#The HEART behind the whole project

[somnimagus]

My page for @destinytriofanzine! I drew something about kids always dreaming of far off places

[id in alt!]

[theneighborhoodwatch]

Re:So Below. I have many theories on where WH will go, but I think one of my favorites is that some vestige of the show, whether it be Wally or Home, is sending out these snippets to WHRP in a desperate attempt to revitalize the neighbors. Yaknow, in one of those 'the power of memory' things?

The inky grip of oblivion encasing the entire neighborhood outside of one lone window. Technically even Wally's in the dark, with only the light from homes gaze outlining him.

Either way, it's very interesting!

(context)

so i've been thinking a lot about this ask in tandem with this reply from @totallynotadoptingallofthelnkids on one of my posts:

and for a while i couldn't really put my finger on Why, but then i realized i don't think i've ever talked about where i think we Are in welcome home's overarching narrative on this blog? i'm not talking about how much of WH we've seen - i know everything we have so far is just the prologue (or, part of the prologue?) it's more like...

... it's not a stretch of the imagination to say that we're probably starting in medias res, right? the content warnings page describes a story that centers the neighbors first and foremost, as their world falls apart around them - literally, figuratively, very likely some combination of the two. what we've seen of the prologue, though, is very much Not that; it's a research team trying to gather information about the show those puppets were from nearly 50 years after it last aired, ft. wally acting as the Bridge between these two aspects of the Overarching Narrative - and it's possible that other neighbors may follow suit, given some of the things that reply (and post) brings up.

i suppose the biggest question for me is whether the apparent Meat of the story (i.e. the puppet-centric part, the Prelude to our starting point with the WHRP in the same breath that it is the main event) will turn out to be the original four-year run of the show or the 50 years that have passed since its cancellation. was the show on a downward spiral since the day it began, or did things only begin to fall apart over the course of those 50 years with no human intervention given that puppets are made For The Sole Purpose of being used and perceived by humans? i think you can make a strong argument for either possibility - assuming they're even mutually exclusive, anyway.

all this to say: yeah, i think it is Reasonable to assume that wally, home, and/or the rest of the neighbors if not the entire town rely on being Perceived in order to continue existing; a blessing as much as it is a curse. and also to assume that everyone involved with the website (however many people that entails - wally, home, the WHRP, WHRP associates, possibly other neighbors, etc.) is banking Hard on this.

[thornilee013]

Oml I am so sorry for missing WIP Wednesday yesterday! Honestly I thought it was Tuesday. Thank you so much for your sweet tags! I really appreciate you. I’m so proud of you for reporting that person at work! That takes so much strength and bravery. Also, good for you for using up your days!!! I’m doing a bit better, thank you for being so nice🤍🤍🤍

Requesting some baby Jean because I feel bad sending an ask on your writing account that isn’t connected to your writing, but feel free to ignore since I missed Wednesday if you want!🤍🤍🤍

prev | Baby Jean | WW 3.1.2024

Jean stretched his face into a variety of expressions in his reflection. His grandmother always told him to be careful about what kind of faces he made, or else it could freeze in that expression forever. But he'd never seen an old person with blown out cheeks or lips that looked like a fish. Well, anyone aside from his violin instructor. He was pretty sure that the sharp, disapproving angle of his eyebrows was permanent.

MASTERPOST

[slvttyplum]

satoru had a long open clean neck, there was nothing on it, barely a hair that could be seen, it was a blank canvas, that was until he met you.

you weren't all that intrigued with his neck, that was until you saw how abnormally clean and blank it was, like it was missing a magic touch, so you started giving it exactly what it needed…

…hickies. that's exactly what he was missing on that beautiful neck of his, filling it up to the brim with red and sometimes purple marks, and there was no regret in your decision. it looked like an art piece on that long slender neck of his.

as much as you loved it, so did he. he loved having your warm saliva trickle down his neck as you suck on his neck, lightly sucking his flesh in between your teeth, making his eyes roll back with pleasure, it felt so good that he couldn't stop you.

the way you worked and focused in on his neck and making sure the hickies you were placing looked good and weren't too sloppy looking, you were quite good at your craft. a light giggle sliding past your lips every time you place a hickey on him, your thumb slowly running over the deep red spot.

satoru especially loved it when you would run your finger over his bulge and slip your hand into his pants or grind on him when you did this, it felt so good that he couldn't do anything but groan and try to hold himself back from cumming in his pants.

“so pretty.” you muttered after placing each and every beautiful mark on his neck. once you started placing hickies on his neck and the both of you being satisfied from that, you would continue to place them all over your body.

licking all down his body, your tongue trailing with saliva as you go through every inch of his body trying to find where to place your pretty lips and start sucking his soft skin in between your teeth, there wasn't a place on his body where you didn't mark.

he was like an art project that you were slowly doing. the vibrations that came with your placing hickies made his heart flutter and his head fuzzy, this was his favorite part of foreplay. feeling your lips and tongue trail up and down his neck as your hand fondled with his dick in his briefs that had his dick dripping.

satoru getting hickies from you was like a dog getting scratched behind its ear, but instead it was arousing, it made him feel good, made him mouth water, made his back practically arch, begging and pouting for you to give him more. it doesn't matter if his whole neck turns red, he just wants you to keep sucking on him.

“please, just a little more.” he'll beg and whine for you to have your soft lips and warm tongue all over his body, tracing over his abs, and tracing back up to his neck. there wasn't a better feeling in the world than you sucking and marking him up.

[yuujispinkhair]

Boxer!Sukuna headcanons

Inspired by this lovely ask. Thank you so much for sending me that and making me lose my mind over Boxer!Sukuna.

Pairing: Boxer!Sukuna x Reader (female) Genre: fluff + smut Word Count: 1.5k Warnings: 18+, modern AU, smut, squirting. Mentions of boxing injuries, biting, blood. I know that boxers usually wear a groin protector, but I chose to ignore this for this AU because I wanted to write a sexy detail lol. Sukuna + Reader are in a relationship. Minors don't interact. Divider @/benkeibear

++ Boxer!Sukuna, who always wants you by his side backstage until it's time for him to enter the arena. You are his good luck charm and the only one who is allowed to wrap the bandages around his hands before he slips into his gloves. Not that he needs any luck with the skills he has, but he loves seeing you press your sweet kisses on his boxing gloves and smile at him before you hug him tightly and tell him to please be careful.

++ Boxer!Sukuna, who gets a warm feeling in his heart when he sees how worried you always are. Much more nervous before his fights than he is. But he always reassures you, wrapping his muscular tattooed arms tightly around you and hugging you to his firm body while he tells you, "Don't worry, princess. You know I never lose."

++ Boxer!Sukuna, who smiles while you help him get dressed before a fight, helping him slip into the white silk kimono he wears for his ring entrance show. He can clear his mind the best when he feels your gentle hands caressing over his broad back.

++ Boxer!Sukuna, who gives you his most charming smile before he grabs your chin and asks you for a good luck kiss, not just on his boxing gloves but also on his lips.

++ Boxer!Sukuna, who always tells you he loves you before he leaves the backstage area. And hearing your "I love you, too" in return gives him another surge of motivation.

++ Boxer!Sukuna, whose ring-entrance show always makes the crowd go wild. The whole arena is bathed in blood-red light. A picture of an ancient shrine in a sea of blood gets projected onto the large screens. Dramatic classical music starts playing as a huge throne of skulls emerges from the fog, with Sukuna lounging casually on it, his head resting on the back of his hand. He's wearing the snow-white kimono and a crown on his pink hair, presenting himself as The King of Curses, which is his stage name.

++ Boxer!Sukuna, whose stage name fits him perfectly. One look at him and his powerful body and that dangerous and ambitious glint in his eyes, and everyone knows this guy is truly a King in the boxing ring.

++ Boxer!Sukuna, who gracefully walks towards the ring with an arrogant look on his tattooed face, only accompanied by his assistant Uraume, who walks a few steps behind him as if they are a loyal shrine servant who follows their master obediently. They take off Sukuna's kimono for him and bow respectfully while the crowd cheers loudly.

++ Boxer!Sukuna, who looks intimidating but beautiful as he stands there with a posture like a God while the white silk slips off his broad shoulders and reveals all the firm muscles and the sexy tattoos on his tall, athletic body.

++ Boxer!Sukuna, who drops his serious act the moment he climbs into the ring and instead smirks his most charming smirk and lifts a hand to casually wave at his fans, letting them celebrate him as if he already won.

++ Boxer!Sukuna, whose last glance before every match belongs to you, though. As much as he enjoys the attention and worship from his fans, he always loves your gaze on him the most. You are the one who grounds him before a fight, the one who gives him the strength and the right mindset to lead him to victory.

++ Boxer!Sukuna, whose maroon eyes look directly into yours while he kisses his boxing gloves, at the same spot where your lips left their kisses a few minutes ago backstage. And right before he turns around to face the referee and his opponent, he winks at you and mouths, "I'll win this fight for you, baby".

++ Boxer!Sukuna, who already mocks his opponent before the fight even starts. Smiling tauntingly at him and asking him if he is scared. "You know, you can still run, little boy."

++ Boxer!Sukuna, who looks so sexy during his fights. All of his attacks are powerful and well-planned. He moves gracefully through the ring, like a big cat on the prowl, beautiful and deadly. Everyone can see that he isn't someone who just relies on his brute strength. Sukuna is intelligent, and he uses his mind to win his fights.

++ Boxer!Sukuna, who is both hated and loved by the judges. They hate how cocky he is but admire his skills and respect him for how well-prepared he is for his matches.

++ Boxer!Sukuna, who wins most of his fights with a knockout, laughing triumphantly when the referee counts down the seconds.

++ Boxer!Sukuna, who only loses fights when he gets disqualified for committing a foul. Sometimes, he bites his opponents, drawing blood with his sharp teeth and laughing as he licks the blood off his lips. You know that this is also part of Sukuna's strategy. He is too controlled to let himself get carried away during a fight, but he loves the reputation those bloody attacks give him, basking in the fear he sees in his opponents' eyes when he whispers to them before a fight, "Did you see the guy I bit last month? Let's see how your blood tastes on my tongue."

++ Boxer!Sukuna, who is brilliant at blocking punches but also cannot be stopped if he gets hit. You used to be worried sick when you saw him receiving blows to the head until Sukuna reassured you that he is allowing it on purpose. It's all for the show. And sometimes, because he craves the pain since, it will spur him on even more.

++ Boxer!Sukuna, who laughs after every punch his opponent lands, smirking cat-like as he licks the blood off his cracked lip, and his wild maroon eyes glitter amusedly at the other guy: "Aww, was that all you can do, brat? Gimme more, come on! Punch me! Make me bleed for real, you coward!"

++ Boxer!Sukuna, who looks so sexy with his tattooed skin all sweaty, every muscle in his tall, strong body taut. His veins standing out, and his broad chest rising and sinking as he breathes deeply. The outline of his long, thick cock visible through his dark red boxing shorts, making you want him so much.

++ Boxer!Sukuna, who wears a sexy smirk on his beautiful tattooed face when he gets declared winner. He looks deeply into your eyes when the referee yanks his hand into the air to signal his win. This first moment is always for you alone, mesmerizing maroon eyes silently telling you that Sukuna dedicates this win to you.

++ Boxer!Sukuna, who then punches his fist into the air and does a little round in the ring to let the crowd celebrate him like the King that he is. He is a professional, giving his fans what they crave, even while he craves something very different at that moment after a match.

++ Boxer!Sukuna, who expects you to wait for him in his private locker room backstage, naked and wet, with your legs spread, ready to get taken by him.

++ Boxer!Sukuna, who takes you rough and hard. He needs to fuck you to come down again after being so pumped up during his fight. His tall, muscular body is still dripping with sweat, smelling so sexy, a mix of sweat and musk and his expensive cologne. His breath is loud and harsh in your ear, turning into low, hoarse groans as he pounds your cunt with his cock and his heavy balls, just like he pounded his opponent with his fists.

++ Boxer!Sukuna, who rubs your swollen clit firmly and whispers dirty things in your ear, making sure you give him your everything and squirt all over him when you cum on his fat cock.

++ Boxer!Sukuna, who coos at you and calls you his good girl, his love, as he chases his own orgasm, finally allowing himself to let go, fucking you with hard erratic thrusts, his face buried in your neck, moaning loudly until he captures your lips in a heated kiss when he shoots his hot cum into your cunt.

++ Boxer!Sukuna, who cuddles you afterward, pressing himself tightly against you while he is still buried balls-deep inside you, resting his forehead against yours and thanking you for being his lucky charm and the one who gives him strength. He stays like that, pressing you down with his heavy body, kissing you tenderly until his breathing finally calms down and the sweat on his body begins to dry.

++ Boxer!Sukuna, who picks you up and murmurs to you, "Hold on to me, princess," before he carries you to the shower, not letting go of you even for a second, needing his princess on his cock and in his arms.

++ Boxer!Sukuna, who showers with you and lets you wash him, sighing when you massage shower gel into his taut muscles, caressing him, and cleaning him, easing the tension in his body.

++ Boxer!Sukuna, who returns the favor and lets his large, calloused hands wander gently over your naked and soaped-up body while he kisses you nonstop. Who caresses another orgasm out of you while you stroke his long thick cock slowly, making him spill his seed all over your hand.

++ Boxer!Sukuna, who isn't the famous boxer, The King of Curses, anymore, when he is here under the shower with you. Here he is just Sukuna, your fiancé, who is joking around with you, all playful again, grinning that sexy grin and kissing you so sweetly, whispering against your skin how much you mean to him, and asking you where you want to have a late dinner tonight.

++ Boxer!Sukuna, who fucks you once more, this time against the shower wall with your legs wrapped tightly around his hips and your hands in his pink hair. But this time, it is slow, sensual lovemaking. Slow, deep thrusts and tender French kisses until you both find completion at the same time and moan into each other's mouth. The perfect finish for a successful match.

HE IS SO SEXY 😭😭 I didn't know I would write so much for Boxer!Sukuna, but I enjoyed it so much to think of his dramatic ring-entrance show and the way he boxes, etc. I hope you enjoyed it too!!

Comments and reblogs would be very sweet.

[scuderiahoney]

After All

Charles Leclerc x bestfriend!reader

Masterlist

Word Count: 3.6k

Warnings: alcohol/intoxication, tooth rotting fluff

Charles is a lot of things. He’s determined, hardworking, a bit of a self sacrificing dumbass. He’s kind, talented, humble, confident, soft. He’s your best friend, your closest confidant, the person you would trust with your life.

And, according to everyone who’s ever seen the two of you together, he’s madly in love with you.

…..

Pierre’s the first one to say it. He’s known both of you the longest, he’s one of Charles’ best friends. He sidles up next to you on a warm afternoon. You’re both on Charles’ yacht, leaning against the railing and watching as he does a backflip off the deck and into the water.

“He’s going to hurt himself,” you point out, “and Ferrari will not be happy.”

Pierre snorts out a laugh, shaking his head. “He is showing off.”

You give him a look of disbelief. “For who?”

Before he can answer, you’re drawn to look at Charles again when he calls your name. You watch and wave at him, and then he lines himself up for another stupid trick dive that makes your stomach lurch. He makes a splash when he lands, sinking deeper and deeper till you can’t see him through the bubbles. Just when you start to worry, just when you feel like he’s been under too long, he resurfaces. He kicks himself to the surface, hair plastered to his forehead, laughing raucously. He’s suddenly the boy you met at 13, big dreams and big plans and a big personality to get him there.

“You,” Pierre says, jarring you out of your staring. “He is showing off for you.”

You roll your eyes and elbow your friend. “What? He is not. Why would he be trying to impress me?”

“Because he is in love with you,” Pierre states, so matter of fact you almost don’t realize what he’s saying. “Come on, it’s obvious.”

“He is not!” You laugh, shoving at his shoulder lightly. “Jesus, Pierre, the fumes from those engines must really be getting to you.”

Pierre opens his mouth to speak, probably to rebut with some insane theory he’ll present as fact. He’s interrupted by Charles calling your name again. This time he’s waving you down to the back deck, eyes sparkling. He’s going to want you to jump in. You have a fear of heights, a fear of falling, a fear of deep, open water. Despite it all, you head down to meet him anyways. Charles could talk you into anything, could make even the scariest things seem easy.

“You have to hold my hand, though,” you say, when he urges you to jump in with him. “The whole way, no letting go.”

“The whole way,” he promises, knitting your fingers together.

…..

It’s a bit of fate that you end up in Suzuka for the race. You hadn’t been planning on going, but there’d been cheap flights available when you looked the week before, and suddenly you’re off to Japan. Charles is thrilled about it, always happy to have you there, even when he’s busy and barely gets to see you. He says there’s something comforting about knowing you’re in the garage or the stands.

He takes you with him to as many things as he can, including the pre race media days. The second you meet up with him after you get to Japan, he’s talking non stop about Sebastian’s Buzzin Corner project, and your heart melts at the excitement in his eyes. He’s been missing Seb lately, having a tough go of things and searching for guidance.

You watch from behind the scenes, behind the cameras, as the entire grid arrives to make pollinator hotels and decorate canvases. You smile when Sebastian spots Charles and runs over to give him a hug, and you smile even bigger when Charles follows Sebastian around like a lost puppy. Sebastian seems just as happy to be near Charles again, stopping by to check on Ferrari’s progress frequently.

Charles turns during a lull in the event, when the cameras are on another team and Sebastian is distracted, too. He waves you over, eyes bright, smile wide. You can’t help but be drawn towards him. Any time he wants you nearby, you go willingly, eagerly.

He has paint on his fingers, speckles of it on his shirt. Charles is creative, too. He doesn’t get nearly enough chances to show it, in your opinion. He’s stifled by brand deals and the public eye and overbearing management. You stand next to him, eyeing his and Carlos’ artwork with a soft smile. The pollinator hotel is filled with supplies, the roof is decorated, and Charles tells you excitedly that they’ve already had their first “guest”. He hands you a paintbrush when nobody is paying attention.

“You should add something, chéri,” he says, nudging you lightly.

You look up at him, twist your face into an unsure smile. “Am I allowed to?”

“Of course,” Sebastian says, having made his way back around to the Ferrari team. You smile at Charles’ old teammate as he pays your shoulder lightly. “It’s not exclusive, you know.”

You laugh, reaching out with the paintbrush and adding a small heart next to the stripes and stamps the guys have painted on. “A little love for the the pollinators and bugs.”

“You weren’t saying that about that spider last week,” Charles teases.

“It was in my hair,” you say through gritted teeth, looking at him with wide eyes. “Don’t slander me in front of Seb.”

Carlos is giggling, watching the two of you. Sebastian is doing the same, his eyes lit up reminding you of years ago when he and Charles had been teammates. He’d joked about the two of you exhausting him, with your boundless energy and constant flip flopping between bickering and affection. You’d insisted you were the ones keeping Sebastian young.

Someone calls Charles and Carlos over for a photo op. You peruse the bee hotel while you stand next to Sebastian. There’s a lot of people’s artwork on there, but somehow you think you know which brushstrokes belong to Charles.

“I see not much has changed,” Sebastian says, nodding his head towards Charles. “He calls you darling and then teases you in the same minute.”

You roll your eyes, feeling your cheeks grow hot. “He is my best friend, both of those things are his job.”

“Ah, to be young and oblivious,” Sebastian says in a lilting tone.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

He laughs, tilts his head at you. “Just that my wife was my best friend, once.”

You narrow your eyes at him. The glare has no effect if the grin on his face says anything. Sebastian is older, wiser, and Charles trusts his judgement on nearly everything, but you know he’s wrong about this. There’s no way Charles sees you as anything more than a friend. You’ve come to terms with that. You can live with that. You have to live with that.

Charles makes his way back over to the two of you, hands in his pockets. You plaster a sunny smile back on your face and try to ignore the way Sebastian is watching the two of you. Charles is telling you to paint something else, pointing out the empty space left on the canvas and the bee hotel.

He takes your hand, still wrapped around the paintbrush, in his own. He dips it in the black paint, leads you over to the wooden structure, and adds another heart.

“More love,” he says, singsongy, squeezing your hand. Behind you, Sebastian barely muffles an affectionate laugh. “More love for the bugs.”

…..

“This is my favorite song!” You yell over the booming bass.

You have a drink in your hand, your… 6th? of the night? You’re not sure, you’ve lost count. Charles keeps handing them to you every time your gets low. It’s always tequila and soda, always with two limes.

Charles laughs, shaking his head. “You have said that about every song in the past hour.”

“I mean it this time,” you say, eyes wide. You’re standing up from the table, pulling on his arm. “C’mon, we should dance, Charlie!”

He groans lightheartedly. Really, all of this should be your sign to cut yourself off. You don’t like dancing, and you rarely call him Charlie. Everyone calls him Charles, so you’d let the nickname go years ago. You’d worried it made you sound childish, made you sound like you were holding onto years past. He doesn’t budge from his spot in the booth, watching you warily.

“Amour, I don’t like this song as much as you apparently do,” he says, shaking his head. “And I like dancing even less.”

“Fine,” you say with a pout. “I will find someone else, then.”

You melt into the crowd before he can pull you back into the booth and down to earth. You’re at that pleasant stage of drunk where everything is funny and fuzzy and floaty. You spot Lily, Alex’s girlfriend, at the bar, and she needs much less convincing to join you on the dance floor. She abandons Alex with George and follows you eagerly. It’s Las Vegas, you’re here to have fun. This is fun. The two of you squeeze through the swirling mass of people till you find a good spot.

You don’t know how long it’s been when Charles finds you there- you just know you’re sweaty, a few drinks deeper, and past the point of no return. The song that’s playing now is your actual favorite song, a fact that you tell Charles when he steps in front of you, his hands on your waist to steady you.

“I know,” he says, because of course he knows. Nobody knows you better than him. “I also know you are drunk.”

“M’having a good time,” you tell him, wrapping an arm around his neck. It’s just to keep you steady, you tell yourself. “Vegas, baby!”

Charles laughs, shaking his head, but he starts to sway to the music with you. One hand stays on your hip, but the other comes around to your back and pulls you closer. You like being pressed against him, like being able to feel the warmth of him even through the fabric of your clothing. You don’t think before you spin in his grip, press your back to his front, keep your arm around his neck behind your head. Tomorrow morning, or rather, later today, you can blame it on the alcohol.

Charles wraps his arm around your waist in response, and you swear you feel his lips on the back of your neck as he pulls you in again. You’ll blame that on the alcohol too.

It’s like you blink, and then you’re standing out on the sidewalk, surrounded by the lights of the Las Vegas strip. The night air is cold, and you laugh to yourself, thinking about all the talk of a night race in the desert and the temperature.

“What’s so funny?” Max asks.

You’re surprised to find him standing next to you, and you blink at him.

“S’cold,” you say, unable to explain the rest of it. You just giggle again. “Where’s Charlie?”

Max raises his brows. “He went inside to get your jacket. You left it in the booth. Remember, five minutes ago, when you said it was cold?”

Huh. You don’t remember, but Max is probably telling the truth. He and Charles are more of friendly rivals than enemies now, despite their formative years. Max is definitely not trying to kidnap you as revenge. He has nothing to get revenge for- he won the race. Maybe he’s bitter that a Grand Prix he talked about so negatively had ended up being one of the best of the season, you suppose. Though you’re not sure that would give him a reason to kidnap you-

“I called him that once,” Max says, and you tilt your head at him. “Charlie. He didn’t like it.”

You remember. It was in Brazil, when they’d all been gathered in a garage. You’d seen it in a video. You can’t admit that, though, without admitting you watch tiktoks of your best friend, so you stay quiet on that subject.

“He thinks it��s childish,” you say with a shrug, scuffing the toe of your shoe on the ground. “I… forget, sometimes.”

You forget that Charles isn’t just your thirteen year old friend, the guy you’d never expected to even tolerate you. You can’t remember how it even happened, how you went from barely saying hi in the halls at school to dinners with his family, homework at their kitchen table. You’re not sure it matters now. What matters is keeping him a part of your life.

You’ve adapted. You’ve let pieces of him go, like childhood nicknames and any hope he’ll ever look at you the same way you look at him. Charles is larger than life, now. You’re still small. You’re still thirteen sometimes, still sitting at the table, begging Charlie to help you with your math problems.

“That’s the thing,” Max says, nudging your side lightly. “He doesn’t seem to mind when it’s you that says it.”

You frown. “Oh, he definitely minds.”

Max shrugs. “He doesn’t show it, then. Probably because he loves you.”

You nod solemnly. “I am his best friend.”

“Right,” Max laughs. “Sure. Friend.”

Charles reappears shortly after that, your jacket in hand. It turns out Max isn’t even leaving- he’d just been tasked with keeping an eye on you while Charles went back inside. He says goodbye and goes back into the club, while Charles is checking his phone, telling you the car should be there any minute. The night has gone from fuzzy to blurry, and you lean heavily on Charles’ shoulder, blinking repeatedly and trying to stay awake. He pours you into the backseat of the car, drags you out of it ten minutes later when you get to the hotel.

“You are so drunk,” he says, standing in the elevator, your head against his chest.

“I know you are but whatamI?” You slur, tugging on his jacket.

Charles just laughs. Even if he could understand you, he wouldn’t get the reference. His hand is resting on your shoulder, fingers squeezing your bare skin softly. You’d taken your jacket off as soon as you got inside, complaining about being hot. Charles had just taken it from your hands with an exasperated smile.

“I think you should sleep in my room,” he suggests when the elevator dings and the doors begin to open. “So I can keep an eye on you.”

You’re not that drunk, but you’re not going to argue. “Yeah, okay.”

When you wake up in his bed in the morning, Charles is asleep on the couch. He’s stretched out, one arm hanging off the edge, one foot on the armrest. His blanket is tangled in his limbs, and you feel guilty, suddenly. It was his night to celebrate, and he’d ended up taking care of you, ended up sacrificing his hotel bed and sleeping on the sofa. You sit up, feeling sick to your stomach, and not from the hangover.

“Lay down,” Charles says, not even opening his eyes. “S’too early. You need more sleep.”

“I should go to my room,” you whisper, and he opens one eye and looks at you warily. “That couch cannot be comfortable.”

“It’s not,” he admits, and the guilt lurches in your gut again. He’s smiling, though. “You tried to insist on sharing the bed, but you were very drunk.”

That’s not surprising. Drunk you always wants Charles close. You direct your eyes to the comforter and muster up all the courage you have left.

“I’m sober now,” you tell him. “So either we share the bed, or I go to my room. You look so uncomfortable.”

Charles hesitates for only a second. You wonder if you’ve gone too far, if you’ve crossed the line. But then he’d shifting, untangling himself from the blankets and tumbling off the couch. He crawls into the bed next to you, sighing happily as he sinks into the mattress. Seemingly almost without thinking, he reaches out, slips his arm around your waist, and hauls you against his chest. You let it happen.

There’s something sacred about the time between morning and night. The sky is a purple hue outside the hotel room window. The halls are quiet. Charles’ heart thuds in your ear, steady and beating out a soothing rhythm, and nothing about this feels out of place. It’s like this is where you’re meant to be, tucked against him, slotted together like puzzle pieces. You wrap your arm around his upper arm, and he pulls the blankets over the two of you.

“G’night, Charlie,” you mumble.

He laughs, and it’s a sweet sound. There’s no hostility behind it. “Goodnight, amour.”

…..

There’s something to be said about your inability to see something as it is until it’s staring you in the face. You’re stubborn as a mule, and maybe blind as a bat, too. It’s not till the holiday break that it all clicks into place.

Charles is sitting next to you at your kitchen counter, decorating cookies. You’ve been baking all weekend. It’s your grandmother’s recipe, now your responsibility to keep up the tradition. There are batches set aside for your family to decorate later, another set for the cookie party you’re holding with some of your friends from university. But Charles had whined and begged about wanting to decorate cookies, about wanting to be a part of the tradition, and you’d given in oh so easily.

He has a heart shaped one in his hand, a knife with red frosting in the other hand. He’s being so delicate, so particular, like it means so much to him. It’s just a cookie, you want to say to him. You hold my actual heart in your hands every day without a care, but you’re so delicate with a cookie?

Except, then, you’re thinking about it, and maybe that’s not true. Charles is brash and bold and confident, but he’s never anything other than gentle with you. He cares deeply, throws himself headfirst into things, he’s all or nothing. But when he’s around you he lets his guard down, takes the time to think. He’s cautious, heartfelt, kind. He takes his time.

“Max asked me to play padel today,” he says casually. “To make up for him missing our match.”

You laugh, though it feels a bit forced. You’re watching his hands, watching as he takes the white icing and writes something on the cookie. “Oh? You didn’t go?”

Charles shakes his head. “He wasn’t free till 11:00. I told you I’d be here at 10:30.”

You frown, blinking at him. He’s so focused on the cookie he doesn’t even notice you staring. He hasn’t spent this much time on a single cookie since he got to your apartment that morning.

“You could have come over later,” you say.

He shakes his head. “This was more important. I’ve been looking forward to it all week.”

It shouldn’t be the moment, is the thing. Nothing spectacular happens. It’s not like he’s made some big confession, not like anything drastic has changed. Somehow, you just know. He looks up at you, a soft smile on his face, and it’s so, so obvious. You wonder if this is what he sees when you look at him. You wonder if this is what everyone else has seen and told you about. There’s so much love in his gaze that it makes your heart skip a beat, makes your skin feel hot, makes your fingertips go numb. You set your cookie down on the table.

He holds his in his own hand, peering down at it as if he’s judging it in a competition. He turns it between his fingers, leaving a red thumbprint on the underside of it. He has icing on his fingers, all the colors of the rainbow. It’ll probably stain his skin.

“You are always more important,” he breathes, and you can’t breathe at all. “The most important.”

He turns the cookie towards you, but you already know what it’ll say. His initials and yours, in white icing on a red backdrop. He’s been saying it all along, really. The whole way. More love. I know. Somehow it has still caught you off guard, stolen the air from your lungs and the words from your lips. All this time pining after him and you had never actually considered he might be feeling it, too. But it’s there, written on the cookie, and it’s written on his face, too.

You lean in to kiss him. He tastes like frosting and feels like love, and you wonder how you didn’t see it sooner.

…..

A week later, Pierre spots the matching hickeys on yours and Charles’ necks and laughs his ass off.

“I told you,” he says, through peals of laughter, shaking his head. “You are both so blind.”

Charles wraps his arm around your waist, and you shrug. You stare up at your boyfriend, happier than you’ve ever been, the weight of his hand on your hip grounding you.

“Yeah, yeah,” you say, dismissing Pierre even as he continues to laugh. “We figured it out. That’s all that matters.”

Charles leans close, presses his lips to your forehead. You feel it all. The years of waiting, wondering, wishing. Pierre is congratulating the two of you and saying something about calling Carlos about a bet they’d apparently had. You can’t bring yourself to care. In the end, you suppose, Pierre deserves to gloat. All your friends do.

They were right, after all.

thanks for reading! you can check out my other fics here!

[wh0reforcoriolanussnow]

Mom, I am a rich man || Tom Blyth x gf!reader

Summary: Fans have always speculated that Tom was dating someone until he confirmed it in an interview. After digging through Tom’s socials, fans stumble upon you, a Yale law student.

Warnings: fem!reader

Wc: 341

A/n: anyone studying law atm? 🙋‍♀️ ALSO THANK U SM FOR 6K AHHH THATS INSANE!!!

Divider by @pommecita

“I did it!” You slightly furrow your eyebrows at the text message your boyfriend sent you before clicking onto the link that he sent. It was a 2 minute interview that he did while at one of the premieres for his hunger games movie.

Tom looked insanely good in his tailored suit, exuding confidence as he engages with the interviewer. Cameras flashed around him, capturing the glamour of the event, and you couldn’t help but smile, feeling a sense of pride for your boyfriend.

The interviewer, a charismatic host with an air of familiarity, turns his attention to Tom, eager to delve into the behind-the-scenes of the blockbuster. “Tom, how was the filming process for ‘The Hunger Games’?” She’s asks, a glint of curiosity in her eyes.

Tom smiles, his eyes gleaming with enthusiasm. “Oh, it was fantastic. The whole cast and crew brought so much energy to the project. But what made it truly special was having my family here. They visited during filming, and even my girlfriend, who took some time off uni to be with me. I greatly appreciated that.”

Your heart swells with warmth at his words. Tom, ever the supportive partner, acknowledges your sacrifice and commitment to being by his side during this whirlwind experience.

Your 2 months in Berlin with Tom was a great opportunity to take a break from all your uni work, and of course, spend some much needed time with your boyfriend. The revelation that he has a girlfriend elicits a gasp from the woman interviewing him.

That video goes viral on the internet. With Tom’s fans searching the internet for anything that could lead them to finding out who Tom’s girlfriend is.

With hard digging, fans discover your insta page. Your posts containing photos of your life as a law student at Yale and fans were pleasantly surprised to find never seen before photos of Tom that you’ve posted.

y/n_y/l/n just posted a story!

y/n_y/l/n

Liked by tomblyth and 2,941 others

this months dump!

view all comments

yourfriendsusername: 😍😍

↘️ y/n_y/l/n: ily!

yourfriendsusername: uh oh, ur getting famous…. remember me pls!

↘️ y/n_y/l/n: sorry, who are you 😂

user1: omg so this is Tom’s gf? SHES GORGEOUS

user2: damn she’s hella smart huh?

↘️ user3: DUH SHES IN YALE

user4: eh, she’s mid

↘️ user5: studying at one of the ivy league’s is far from being mid lol 😭

user6: she’s been posting him for so long now, how have we only just found this out 😂

user7: so she’s pretty, she’s smart, and she’s bagged Tom Blyth? Damn girl. Teach us ur ways!

user8: THE LAST PICTURE AWEE

user9: the bouquet behind his back- the way she’s looking at him- my single heart cannot 😭✋

user10: studying in Yale is such a flex oml. And studying law too? Imagine being able to say, yeah my mom’s a lawyers. COULD NEVER BE ME. 😃

~

tomblyth

Liked by y/n_y/l/n, rachelzegler, phoebedynevor, tomblythupdates and 8,307,163 others

yeah my girlfriend is cooler than me.

view all comments

y/n_y/l/n: Alexa, play brooklyn baby by Lana Del Rey 😁

↘️ tomblyth: volume up Alexa!

rachelzegler: y/n’s side eye 🙈

↘️ y/n_y/l/n: 👀👀

↘️ tomblyth: side eyed me the whole damn time

user1: HE FINALLY POSTED HER!

user2: can’t wait for more gf appreciation posts 😆

user3: what’s a uni student doing dating an actor like Tom Blyth?

user4: first pic. sleeping on the road tn.

↘️ y/n_y/l/n: pls don’t 🙏

↘️ user5: AHH SHE REPLIED TO YOU

↘️ user6: UR SO LUCKY TO CALL TOM UR MAN.

↘️ user7: nah, he’s actually my man.

user8: crying. screaming. throwing up.

user9: it’s happening 😭 Tom finally posting about his gf

[theemporium]

[2.4k] when pictures from a past relationship come to light, the whole world decide to weigh in what they think. but it's your boyfriend who is right by your side, knowing who you are and who he loves. it's you and him against a world of scrutiny, hate and jealousy.

based of this request!

.

You were honestly surprised you hadn’t chucked up the contents of your stomach in the toilet yet, though you suspected you were close to doing so soon. 

It was meant to be a normal day. It had started off as a normal day. By some grace of a superior being above, you had the Monday off and you had spent most of the morning just lazing around the flat. You tidied, you sorted out a food shop, you did the laundry you had been holding off on for the weekend. You sorted the place out a little in preparation for Lando coming home. 

You hadn’t been able to fly out and join him due to some projects you were working on for university. You decided it would be easier to stay home to finish them off, and Lando respected it even if he pouted incessantly before he left in hopes you would change your mind. 

He had messaged you that his flight would be landing later that afternoon, so when lunchtime came and you were fighting back a yawn, you saw no harm in a nap. You had been curled up on the couch in one of his hoodies and a thick blanket over your body, slowly blinking as you tried to focus on the documentary playing on the tv but it was a losing battle.

You didn’t even know what time it was when you woke up. All you knew was that you could hear your phone buzzing and pinging and it was hard to enjoy the warm comfort of sleep when you could have sworn the whole building could hear your phone. You blindly reached for it, your vision still bleary when you peaked them open and saw more notifications than you ever had in your life. 

Your heart stopped when you saw the notifications spread across all your social media platforms. 

But it dropped to your stomach when you saw the reason behind your trending name. 

It was a series of misconceptions, twisted lies and bitter words that were overwhelming your phone screen. Every tweet was worse than the last, every insult stung a little more, every stranger thinking they had a place to say or assume anything about you absolutely fucking sucked. 

And you get it. You were dating someone in the spotlight, it was stupid to assume you could stay in the shadows. You could handle being photographed in the paddock. You could handle fans wanting to follow you on social media. You could handle people tagging you in cute edits and wholesome posts. You could even handle the offhand hate you knew most people only posted due to jealousy. 

But this? This was something else. 

SLUT. WHORE. CHEATER. CLOUT CHASER. DISGUSTING.

The words were blurred and intertwined between photos that you recognised, photos that were indeed yours. They were photos from mere months before you met Lando, making them recent in the eyes of the public. They were photos that shouldn’t be posted for someone who’s happily in a relationship. 

Your vision welled with tears, your breathing became erratic and every part of you knew you should’ve just thrown your phone across the room, but you couldn’t bring yourself to do it. You couldn’t bring yourself to stop reading all the comments. You couldn’t bring yourself to stop putting yourself through that pain. 

You felt like your whole life was being thrown in your face.

Suddenly, all your female friendships and interactions were being analysed and scrutinised. They were pulling up pictures with friends from over the years, pointing out the ‘obvious’ signs that they should have noticed before. They were pulling up comments you had left on friends’ posts, claiming that you were blindly unfaithful to Lando for everyone to see.

Suddenly, your integrity to your relationship with Lando was being questioned. They didn’t see you as a fit match for the Brit. You didn’t fit the mould of a perfect WAG. You were an anomaly, you couldn’t be trusted, you weren’t good enough for him. 

Suddenly, every piece of your life was being torn up, criticised under a microscope and judged for the whole world to voice their opinions on.

Suddenly, you weren’t a human anymore. You were just an object for them to throw their insults, judgements and abuse at. They didn’t care for an explanation or a response or a story, they had made their minds and they seemed inclined to push that narrative to anybody who would listen. And that narrative only seemed to be solidified by the fact you had missed the most recent race weekend.

Everything blurred into a mess. 

You didn’t know at what point you slid off the couch and curled up on the floor, or when the sun started to set outside. You didn’t know when your thumb started to cramp from scrolling, or when the strain behind your eyes started to become more stabbing and irritating. You didn’t know what time it was, or even acknowledge the sound of the door lock turning.

“Babe?”

It was like a distant sound, like your head was underwater.

“Baby?”

And a part of you wanted to say something, to open your mouth but you couldn’t even bring yourself to utter a word.

“Hello?!” 

And then, like the fogginess had been lifted away, he was kneeling in front of you. He was in front of you, his expression hinting confusion and his brows furrowing in concern and his touch was so soft and gentle as he reached out towards you.

“I–” A choked noise left your lips, like the words got stuck in your throat and muddled together. But it was enough for Lando to wrap his arms around you, pulling you into his chest. And as much as your mind reeled at the idea, your body sunk into his embrace.

“Hey, hey, shhhh,” he cooed in a gentle voice as his arms tightened around her even more. “It’s okay. Take your time. There’s no rush.”

And it felt twisted, in a weird sick way. Here he was, comforting you and holding you and reassuring you. Here he was doing to you what you should be doing to him as you reassure him everything wasn’t what it seemed, that they don’t have the facts—that nobody believed the truth, that you would never cheat on him in a million years.

“It—” You took in a gasping breath, your lungs burning for some fresh air. “It—It’s not….it’s not true. I-I promise. Lando—”

He pulled back, the crease between his brows deepening slightly as he looked even more discombobulated than he did moments ago. “What? Baby, what are you on about?”

You froze, your body tensed in his arms as a wave of discomfort washed over you when you realised he had no idea. He hadn’t seen the pictures. He hadn’t seen the comments. He had no idea, and somehow, that made it even worse.

Scenes flashed before your eyes of him looking through them, of him seeing them for the first time. An image played in your head of his gentle comfort quickly turning into bitter anger. You imagined him pulling away, scoffing, tearing up. You imagined him believing them instead of hearing you out.

You imagined him saying the same bullshit the rest of the world was saying.

And deep down, you knew he never would. That’s not who he was, that’s not your Lando. But for a split second where fear clouded your judgement and your stomach twisted in discomfort, you imagined that maybe your boy was capable of the same hatred that tainted the world. 

“Baby?” You heard his voice gently calling out, dragging you back into the moment as coldness seeped into your body. The concern was back again, overwhelming and engulfing and something quite like guilt bubbled inside you about the whole thing for reasons you were unsure of. 

“I was in a relationship before I met you!”

The words were blurted out, a few beats of silence passing between you before Lando even seemed to react to the outburst. He nodded, his hands still holding onto you like he was keeping you together.

“Yeah,” he murmured, nodding his head. “I know, babe. I was in a relationship before I met you too.”

“No, I—” You shook your head, letting out a shaky breath. “A few months before we met, I…was seeing someone.” 

“Okay…baby, I’m not gonna lie to you, I don’t know where this is going or what this has to do with why you’re upset,” Lando admitted, something in his chest aching at the sight of your puffy, red eyes.

“Because,” you took a moment to pause, to bask in the few moments before you felt like your life was truly about to hit the fan. “Because she was a girl. I…I was with a girl before I met you. Well, she isn’t the only one I have dated, but she was the most recent one and some pictures got leaked and the world seems to think I just used you and—”

“Deep breaths, babe, deep breaths,” he said in a soft but commanding voice, watching the way your chest heaved with the staggered breaths. “Just like that f’me.”

“Lando,” you whispered, your whole body practically shaking from the overwhelming emotions inside you whilst he remained completely calm. 

“I’m sorry,” he murmured, and this time it was your turn to be confused. 

“What?” You blinked a few times. “Why are you apologising?”

“Because being with me puts you in a spotlight you didn’t ask for. It makes people think they have some right to snoop around in your life and voice their opinions on it,” he confessed as his hands stroked down your arms before taking both your hands in his. “I’m sorry I have put you in that position. And I’m sorry they don’t value your privacy, I can understand how upsetting that is when you never asked for this kind of attention.” 

“I—” 

Yet, you cut yourself off for a short moment. His words weren’t completely false. It was a big change in your life from going as a nobody to a somebody for such a large group of people. It was weird having aspects of your life picked apart. It was weird that people felt they were so entitled to parts of your life. But out of everything you said, the fact he was holding onto that alone made you almost feel like you were going insane.

“And you’re…I just…” You shook your head, looking down at your joined hands where Lando’s thumbs were tracing random circles on your palms. “And me being with a woman is okay?”

Lando frowned a little. “Why wouldn’t it be?” 

And it was such a simple question. 

Because he was right. Why should it be such a problem? Why shouldn’t it be okay? Why should you having previously been with a woman be such a scandal or detail to latch onto?

And maybe it was the years of feeling like you needed to hide who you truly were. Or maybe it was the shifts in behaviour whenever you did open up about your sexuality to someone. Or maybe it was all the times it was held over your head that made you feel like you had to keep it a secret, that you had to hide the truth, that you had to make sure the least amount of people in the world knew that you were attracted to men and women because of the countless people who made you feel utterly shit in every being secure in that fact alone. 

Maybe it was the realisation that there were people out there—people like your Lando—who would accept you without any questions asked because whilst your sexuality is a part of you, it’s not your whole identity.

“I don’t know,” you breathed out, a shake in your voice as the overwhelming urge to cry once again washed over you. “People just said—”

In seconds, Lando pulled his hands away from your grip and raised them to hold your face, the touch gentle but comforting as his thumb swiped away the few stray tears that ran down your cheeks. He gave you a soft smile, and something about it seemed to ease some of the tightness in your chest. 

“People are gonna say a lot of things, that is an unfortunate reality I have come to learn over the years. But, the only people’s opinions who should matter to you are those of the people you love and the ones who know you,” he spoke, everything about his presence so soothing in contrast to how you were before he arrived. “I know you, baby. And I know what kind of person you are and how amazing you are. And I know that people can say what they fucking want about you, but I know the truth.”

You let out a small, breathless laugh.

“I’m sorry they made you feel like something was wrong with you,” he continued, a small frown on his face as he uttered the words. “Baby, it’s a part of who you are. And I love every part of you. And if you like men and women, then so be it. I am just grateful that I am one of the people you have decided to love,” he confessed to you, something like a cheesy grin on his face when he said it. “I am one of the luckiest fucking guys about because of it.”

“I love you,” you murmured, your eyes falling shut as he rested his forehead against yours, 

“I love you too, baby,” he murmured back, his nose brushing against your affectionately until he saw your lips twitch upwards. And just when the silence had passed for a few moments, he spoke up again. “Plus, I haven’t seen the photos but I am pretty confident in saying that I am probably way hotter than your ex—”

You snorted, the noise loud and unbashful but it made your boyfriend grin at you as you tried to stop yourself from grinning.

“You’re impossible,” you grumbled, laughing as you shook your head.

“Yeah, but I’m right,” he replied with a cheeky smile, so boyish and so Lando.

“You’re much hotter,” you reassured him, even if you rolled your eyes a bit.

“Knew it,” Lando grinned as he leaned down to kiss you, finally happy to give in to the one thing he had been craving to do since he left over a week ago, with social media and the world a distant thought in both of your heads for the time being. 

Lando knew you and loved you, and that was all that mattered.

.

[natalievoncatte]

Lena squared herself up after she stepped from the elevator.

This has taken considerable work. She’d had to arrange for her absence from boarding school to go unnoticed, or at least, unremarked upon. If Lillian got wind of her running away, she’d have been skinned alive. Perhaps literally. Since her adoptive father’s death, she’d actually looked forward to school, and to being away from Lillian’s abuse. Lex was now the only thing keeping her from Lena, and Lex was preoccupied with his project.

Her brother had been away for school for some time, but they had summers off together at least. When Lex took over the company when he turned 21, he grew distant and aloof, spending more time with his friend Clark or at work than with family.

With his absence came Lillian.

Still, she had managed to build a support network. Frank, her bodyguard-slash-driver was Lex’s man, but he was useful. Lena had spent months buttering him up to participate in her plan: she needed wheels.

In the meantime she’d acquired blackmail material. The head master at the school gave her a broad latitude after she implied that she might expose certain proclivities of his. That gave her the time away she needed. She’d carefully negotiated a higher allowance from Lex in exchange for accelerating her studies in anticipation of beginning her undergraduate studies at sixteen, which was a triviality for her anyway.

Lena walked down the hall, heart pounding against the backpack clutched to her chest. Each step felt heavy, alive with portent.

She could turn back now. She could turn her back now.

What if she was wrong? Paranoid, addled, as crazy as her mother, just like Lillian said? What if she was about to not only blow up her whole life, but slander her brother. If this went sideways, she didn’t know what exactly would happened to her, but Lillian had once, while tipsy on whisky from Lionel’s stash, told Lena that if not for Lex, she’d have Lena garroted with piano wire and buried on the estate, and like any bag of trash, no one would notice she’d been disposed of.

When she told Lex, her hands shook like leaves. He looked at her for a long cold moment and she worried that he’d slap her or scream or throw her out of the house, but he simply said, “I’ll talk to her about it.”

He did. She never made another threat.

He also brought her a wooden box, ornate and polished. Lex sat next to Lena and opened the box, showing her the contents, lying on red velvet. A five shot snub nose revolver and two speedloaders.

“I’ll teach you how to use this,” Lex said, grimly. “I know you’re smart enough to know if you need to. If anyone tries to harm you, kill them. I’ll clean it up.”

Lena had been terrified of it for months, even as she enjoyed the shooting lessons from Lex, given in a remote part of the estate near a burbling creek, the shots cracking the morning peace and shaking dew from leaves.

She had the gun in her backpack, and her hands were shaking.

The other contents of her bag were a weapon far more devastating. She was about to fire it and she’d have to accept the consequences.

Finally, she stood outside the door. Apartment 18B. The name on the lease was Lois Lane, but according to Lena’s reconnaissance, Clark Kent had been living with her virtually full time for the last six months, not long after something changed in his relationship with Lena’s brother.

Lena’s hand hung before the door for a good minute before she knocked, weekly. She hadn’t considered what might happen if they were simply not home. Her legs felt watery and her eyes burned. She knocked again. She was committed now.

The door swung open and Lois Lane stood before her. She was beautiful in an understated way, obscured by limp hair in a chaotic bun, rumpled clothes, and the stink of coffee on her breath.

“Who- what? Kid, what do you want?”

“I need to see Clark Kent. Is he here?”

“Who’s asking?”

“Lena Luthor.”

There was a gust of wind behind her, and Kent stepped into view.

“Lena?” said Clark. “Lex’s little sister? What are you doing here?”

Lena’s throat went tight. She swallowed hard, and as she anticipated, his demeanor changed. He softened. He craned forward slightly, studying her intently, and his brows shot up when looked at her bag.

He was checking her vital signs and he’d spotted the gun. In the bag.

“He knows you’re Superman,” Lena choked out, “and he’s going to kill you.”

Lois glanced at Clark with a stunned, stunned wide expression. Then, she grabbed Lena and yanked her inside, slamming the door. Lena squeaked.

“How do you know that? Lex knows? Did he tell you? What do you mean he wants to kill Clark?”

“Hey,” Clark said, crouching beside Lena to bring himself to her level, resting a comforting hand on her slight shoulder. “Take a breath, Lena. You’re safe here.”

In Lena’s plan, she was going to begin explaining, starting with how she deduced his identity and lay out what she discovered in his files. That was her plan, but no plan survived first contact with the enemy.

Lena began to sob.

Superman knelt beside her and removed his glasses, and enveloped Lena Luthor in a warm, protective hug. She sobbed harder, burying her face in his shoulder.

“Jesus Christ,” Lois whispered.

She drew the gun out of the bag and checked it with professional, practiced familiarity, dumping the shells into her hand.

“I think she’s telling the truth.”

Clark nodded.

Over the next hour, Lena was swept to Lois’s big couch and sat in the middle while the pair sat on either side of her. When she was hungry, Clark went out to get her favorite guilty pleasure meal, a big greasy burger and fries, and a milkshake too. Between bites, she explained everything, telling them about her brother’s insane plan to turn the sun red.

They believed it all. Lena had receipts.

Eventually, Lena was exhausted, everything had been said, and she sat with dull shock on the couch and stared at the black mirror of a blank television set, marveling at how small and helpless she looked, like a drowned rat.

“Why don’t you lay down for a while?” Lois said, gently. “Here, I’ll put something on the TV for you.”

Lena didn’t make it ten minutes in before she was asleep, curled tightly on one end of the couch with a pillow under her head.

She woke sometime later. It was dark now and she heard voices on the far side of the apartment.

“I called Bruce. He said he’s in, and he’s bringing reinforcements. I’m going to try to get a Green Lantern on board. We have to move fast. Nevermind me, if Lex does this, millions of innocent people will die. We’ll have to move fast.”

“What about the girl?” said Lois. “She can’t go home now. We have to get her somewhere safe.”

“I have to get you both somewhere safe. I should probably come up with a reason to get the building evacuated. One Lex realizes he’s been caught out, he’ll come after both of you.”

“You’re right.”

“I want you to go out,” said Clark. “Make it look like you’re heading out to a convenience store. Bruce is sending Alfred to pick you up, he should be here in an hour. I have somewhere else in mind for Lena.”

“Where?”

“It’s better if I don’t tell you, just in case.”

When he emerged from the back bedroom, Clark Kent was resplendent, clothed in the persona of Superman.

“Lena?” he said, gently. “We have to go. I’ll take you somewhere safe, where your brother won’t find you.”

Lois joined him. “You’re going to put on some of my clothes, and I’m going to check your hair. You can’t take anything with you. Lex Luthor might have been tracking you the entire time.”

Lena’s stomach dropped. What if she was right? That might be a move Lex would play, tracking Lena so that he could use her against his enemy. Lex had become cold, single minded. Lena was wondering how long it would be until she was disposable.

“Okay,” said Lena.

“I’m going to have to fly you.”

Lena did as she was told. She put on an outfit that belonged to Lois, a hilariously oversized Gotham U sweatshirt and leggings. When it was time, Superman bundled her up in his cape.

“I’m scared of heights.”

“I would never drop you,” he said.

Lena screamed when he took off. She was glad for the cape, glad she couldn’t see the ground. She curled up around him and pressed her eyes tightly closed, wondering exactly how fast they were going.

The landing came surprisingly fast. He’d alighted on the grassy lawn of a lovely beach house. Lena smelled something baking and heard voices inside. Clark knocked on the door.

A girl, a little older than Lena, opened the door. Golden curls spilled over her muscular shoulders, and she wore an oversized pair of glasses that did nothing to dull the endless depths of her blue eyes. There was something profoundly sad behind the curiosity in those eyes. She looked at Lena with mild confusion.

Lena stared back. There was a wild stirring in her stomach, and she shifted uneasily on her feet.

Then, the girl addressed Clark in a rapid, clipped, and utterly strange sounding language.

It hit Lena like a shockwave.

They were speaking Kryptonian.

“Lena,” said Superman, turning to her. “This is Kara Zor-El, my cousin. The last daughter of Krypton.”

[faesdreaming]

Yandere Deity - Altar

tw: yandere behaviour, possessive/obsessive behaviour, kidnapping, diety uses he/him pronouns, gaslighting, yandere using his abilities to mess with reader’s perception of reality

“Haven’t you come to worship at my altar?”

•A lone Deity part of a forgotten pantheon, lost to the sands of time. What once was a bountiful temple; filled with offerings and gifts of fruits, meats, candles, with sounds of prayers and hymns of worship ringing through the halls, people streaming in to sing his praise, is now nothing but an empty ruin.

•He’s so very lonely. Nary a person has come to visit him in centuries. Years pass by and he has nothing, no one. Until you. A fateful eve when you happen upon the temple. Hidden away in the heart of a lush jungle, you, an archaeologist, find your El Dorado, your city of gold. You’d long since heard tales of a lost civilization, an Atlantis on land. Yet, here the remnants lay in front of your eyes.

•At the heart of the ruins lays a temple, grand and golden. Although time has chipped away at its’ grandeur, it’s still glorious, in your opinion. It’s a testament to humanity’s evolution. You don’t notice him though, no one does. But he’s noticed you. Nosy little thing, aren’t you? Impudent, little mortal wretch. He ought to kill you for your audacity. Daring to defile his sacred temple, you deserve nothing but the most painful end,

•But, you’re not actually defiling it, are you? You’re so respectful, treating every artifact as though it were the Holy Grail. You revere his temple, it’s a wonder, a marvel to you. It, you treatment, you reverence— you make him feel something new, something foreign. The attention you give him is intoxicating. He’s been forgotten, left behind. Yet, you’re here now. And he isn’t going to let you go.

•So, when a series of natural disasters occurs and suddenly your team is halved, some leaving after the first incident, others meeting fates you don’t want to recall. The others are slowly losing hope, they’ve lost friends, money, time to your passion project. This is your life’s work, you can’t just give up, can you? You don’t want to. You really don’t. But you’re smart enough to know when to cut your losses.

•Then, another freak accident hits. This time is more devastating. Nobody escaped unscathed, nobody escapes at all. Nobody is except for you. You slip in and out of consciousness. One moment, you’re in the rubble amongst your dead coworkers and friends, and suddenly you’re in a bed, soft and warm. You’re delirious, unable to actually make out anything. But you’re certain there’s someone taking care of you. A man. A beautiful man, something, someone, divine. His touch is soft and gentle. Caring even. He placates you with sweet platitudes you can’t quite comprehend in this state, but the smooth baritone of his voice makes your heart soar.

•When you fully regain consciousness, you’re able to see your surroundings. You’re in a room filled with luxury. Ornate decor, golden furniture, the whole nine yards. It’s impressive, if not a little, a lot, off-putting. How did you get here? Who was the man taking care of you? Thousands of questions and thoughts flood your mind. It’s interrupted by him, the man.

“You’re finally awake. How are you feeling?”

•You blink in confusion. It’s—he’s— everything is too much. Too overwhelming. He chuckles, it’s a rich sound that sends shivers down your spine. He reassures you, slowly and gently placing a strong hand of on your shoulder. There’s something commanding in his soft tone, something compelling you to swallow the lump in your throat and obey. He laughs again and you blush.

•He introduces himself as the one who’s been taking care of you. Doesn’t offer you any explanation as to why, but you ought to be grateful. After all, you could have been left out to die. He offers you food and water. You eat like a man starved and drink the water as though it were the sweetest ambrosia. He offers to let you stay here— where is here?— with him.

“You may leave whenever you decide to leave.”

•He promises, even escorts you out of the room, down halls that moves and shift, and spin around. You’re dizzy, delirious, unable to care for yourself. He carries you back to the room. How embarrassing. Your apologies when you regain your composure are shrugged off. It’s fine, he insists. You’re sick, vulnerable. He reiterates his offer, stay until you get better— you could’ve sworn he said stay forever— and are able to fend for yourself. You nod your head in agreement. It’s the logical choice, really. You’d probably die on your own.

•He smiles a brilliant smile at you, swears he’ll care for you diligently. And he has been, hasn’t he? You’re beginning to trust him, have faith— why?— in him. He stays true to his word. Working tirelessly to care for not only your body but your mind as well. Sleepless nights are spent with him by your side, telling you folktales and myths, singing soft lullabies to lull you to sleep, or even merely conversing with you. Days are spent improving your health. He feeds you by hand sometimes when you are too weak to do it yourself. When your health shows signs of improvement, you both go on walks, exploring the extensive gardens and many palace— temple, building, you’re not sure where you are— halls.

•He gifts you with many things too. Soft silk robes, shining jewels, ancient tomes and books, everything you desire you’re given. It’s not your fault, really, that you start to love him— do you?— especially not when’s he’s so kind. So handsome, beautiful really. He looks inhuman, like something divine. He’s attentive and nurturing. Your own prince charming. Your feelings grow as time progresses— how long has it been, you need to leave— until you can’t contain it.

•One day, as he presses a warm cloth to your forehead, you notice just how close he is. How he’s just out of touch. You greedily drink it in, unconsciously inching closer until your lips are pressed against his. The kiss is soft, chaste and you immediately pull away. Your stammering and feeble apologies are interrupted by his hand cupping your cheek. He leans in, your heart thumping in your chest, and kisses you again. This time, you don’t pull away.

•He, your lover, your heart loves you too. It’s surreal— too surreal— and your days spent together become all the more special. You’re utterly content with him, he’s become the air you breathe, the light of your life, you’re everything. It’s only natural for you to become consumed by him. By your life with your beloved— to forget you ever had a life before— spending eternity forever in his arms.

“We only have until forever, love.”

[itsstuck]

Perhaps it was a mistake to choose dinosaurs as your topic for your university's science fair. Perhaps you screwed up following the instructions or did not read them carefully enough.

You sat in your dorm, half your project done, sat on your desk. A little nest where you were going to present the replica dinosaur eggs, without its crown jewel however the eggs.

You rubbed your humongous stomach self consciously which has stretched to an unimaginable size. You were naked but there was no way you could see further than your gargantuan bullet shaped stomach littered with red and purple stretch marks and veins. 'Gives a whole new meaning to "ready to pop"' you thought to yourself. You squirted more oil you purchased from a dubious store (along with the egg kit of course) on your puffy pussy that you could barely reach and rubbed it in. It made you feel hot all over but still you dutifully resumed your nightly ritual.

The rubbing felt incredible, before you knew it you barely had any oil left and you were writhing beneath your stomach. You probably would've arched your back off the bed too if you weren't pinned against it by the weight. Then suddenly something shifted within you, you could practically feel your pelvis creak as a torrent of fluid flooded your bed.

You tried to at least get yourself up on your elbows to see in the mirror facing your bed, what was going on.

The bed was soaked alright and between your legs was something slimey and brownish.

"What the fuck..." you muttered to yourself, trying to at least somehow maneuver your body on your hands and knees. Was this it? Upon examining it closer, you realised what it was and your heart dropped just as an extreme wave of pain washed over you. It was the fucking mucus plug. But why was it so huge. How much would your cervix have to dilate if this was keeping it sealed. 15 cm? 20 cm?

You started to feel sick. Just how many eggs were there?!

The sudden pressure increasing tenfold halted your train of thought.

At least you were already on your hands and knees right, besides you had the whole night to yourself. You bore down gingerly and hoped that your huge stomach pressing against the mattress would help too. Nothing but more liquid came out and the pain and pressure was only increasing.

After 3 hours of rocking back and forth with 0 results you decided it was time to get serious about this. You steadied yourself, gripped the sheets and gave a huge push.

Nothing.

1 hour into birthing with all your might you didn't even notice how far apart your legs were and how much your lower half felt like jelly when finally you felt something behind your entrance. Encouraged by the progress you began pressing on the top of your stomach with one hand while gritting your teeth and bearing down hard. Something began emerging. Covered in a slimey substance a jelly like egg started poking through your aching cunt. You moaned and pushed as hard as you could, waiting for the relief of it plopping out onto the blanket so you could birth the rest but it never came. With the next effort you buried your face into your pillow, hopefully muffling your desperate screams. Every time you let up the egg would slide back, nestled deep into the warm slick of your pussy.

This went on for another hour or so when you finally gave a push hard enough that got the egg to a point it wouldn't slip back from. You almost felt relieved. It will slide out any second, right?

Your pussy was stretched to its natural limit as you panted and pushed. But this birth was anything but natural...your only luck was that you kept up your oil regimen because soon you felt something slick and almost gelatinous touch your inner thighs, even with your legs spread.

"Wh-what?!" You whined into the pillow.

Fuck.

No no no no no.

This was supposed to be several small eggs not ONE. Cold sweat covered every inch of your body as the realisation hit. How would this ever come out?! There was no way you could call for help, what would you say, not to mention that you were fully immobilised by the gargantuan egg spreading you open way past what should be humanly possible.

Back when you realised what was happening to you, you tried watching at least SOME birthing videos though you knew your experience would be nothing like that. You tried to think back to them hoping to remember anything from the ones where petite women would have to squeeze out a 10lbs kid. Although even those babies would seem like light work compared to whatever was stuck in you. The pain made it much to hard to think but then suddenly you had an idea!

Gravity would help.

You gathered all your strength to heave yourself up from your hands and knees only onto your knees you could hopefully get into a crouching position from there. However as soon as you glanced up and caught your reflection in the mirror, in a split second, before you could change the outcome you realised it was a huge mistake.

The egg was absolutely humongous and your pussy was stretched grotesquely around it, completely white and on the brink of tearing and worst of all you could not kneel down as the egg was so gargantuan. It was touching the mattress. Or at least you couldn't kneel down without the egg sliding back into your tortured cunt a few inches with a sickening squelch.

You held back the urge to throw up and fought until you were in a squatting position.

You didn't care about making noise anymore, you screamed while pushing down on your pulsating stomach that was urging you to expell the giant egg while with your other hand you reached down to rub your clit. The clit you could barely locate as it was practically flat against the egg with your pussy pulled so taut.

This seemed to be somewhat helping you progress however an earth shattering orgasm caught you off guard and you lost your balance.

You fell onto your back and with the sudden change of position your birth canal caused the hideously massive egg to practically be sucked in once more. All the progress you made was undone and the wind was knocked out of you at the ginormous intrusion. You screamed and thrashed on the bed, violently pressing down on your stomach and pushing with strength you didn't know where you got from.

By this time you were laboring for over 8 hours. You laid in bed and just felt wave after wave of contraction wash over you, the weight of the egg in your birth canal had to be about 50lbs and every 10 minutes or so you felt a dull sensation of pleasure course through you as the contractions were easing the egg out of you agonising by agonising millimeter and every once in a while it'd brush against your tortured clit just right.

You were just about to resign yourself to your fate when you realised the small bottle of oil was within reach in this cursed position. There was still some left, not that it'd make much difference now, you were probably going to die like this. With a humongous egg wrecking your lower half.

You picked up the bottle and with hazy eyes read the instructions again. This was your last hope. Maybe you missed something.

'MORE effective if orally taken?!'

Your eyes widened as you wasted no time gulping down the last of it. Too bad you didn't read another sentence which would've clarified that you only need droplets in a glass of water.

It immediately took effect and kicked your labour into high gear again, you screamed as you practically felt your womb and birth canal undulating, forcing you to scream and push like never before. You spread your legs nearly into a split while thrusting your hips into the air.

"Fuck! FUCK! My cunt will tear, fuck fuck my pussy!!!"

The egg slowly slid out and stopped at its widest point. This made you trying to hold your legs back an utter waste as the egg was already doing it for you. The pain made you unable to breathe properly. You took shallow panicked breaths but by this point you lost all sense of your dignity.

You HAD to give birth then and there.

You let out an animalistic scream and screwed your eyes shut. A vein popped out on your forehead and no doubt you burst a few blood vessels. You didn't care anymore, you used both hands to push down on your stomach and gritted your teeth hard enough to chip them

"FUCK, COME OUT ALREADY!!"

Then with a contraction that made you see stars, the egg erupted from your canal, not to mention the aftershocks of your final effort pushed out at least 5 liters of whatever fluid this was out of your pussy along with the huge egg, mixed with urine that you couldn't bear to hold any longer. Your bed was sopping wet and your cunt twitched and pulsated as one of the most intense orgasms of your life ripped through you.

Before you passed out you mustered enough strength to glance at the clock on your bedside table.

It was almost midday.

Didn't the science fair end at 11...?

[sukunasweetheart]

God I’m always the biggest sucker for AUs where Sukuna is Yuji’s older brother and is just smarter and stronger and the reader is Yuji’s lil friend in his friend circle- literally the only one pining for his ripped older brother like 👀👀👀❤️💦💦💦 ‘h-hi’

GAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHSJDNFKSDNKSDNG I LOVE THIS SO MUCH TOOOOOO

theres always something about the older brother of a friend.................................................................................

he will find u so cute and adorable, such a nervous little thing before his eyes,,, sukuna doesnt usually gaf about yuuji's friends and whatnot but you pique his interest....

sorry i got carried away and wrote a whole thing on this oopsies it's very lengthy and wordy...

thinking about the first day you get invited to yuujis house along with megumi and nobara without thinking much of it, only to run into his older brother who turns out to be totally your type

(youre the type of person who develops a crush easily, so much so that no one bats an eye when you tell them that you have a new crush, rip.)

"i thought i told you not to bring your shitty meetings into the house, brat," he tells yuuji coldly, staring down at you and yuuji in the living room.

"awh, shut up! if you can bring your hookups home, i can bring my friends!" sukuna rolls his eyes at him.

"make sure to stay quiet, then. else, i'm kicking all of you out."

all of your friends give side eyes at each other, thinking about what an asshole yuujis older brother is but youre staring at him with puppy eyes, in love at first sight (and he notices it all)

sukuna retreats to his room, and you're already gushing at everyone else about your new crush... all your friends are like 😑

(it's nothing serious at this point, think of it like a fan admiring an idol)

you begin frequenting yuujis house just to get glimpses of him from then on

the four of you are watching a film in the living room, when the snacks run out

you volunteer to grab some more from the kitchen...and there you find sukuna making himself a sandwich...shirtless.

internally screaming, you freeze on the spot for a second before recollecting yourself and focusing on the original objective, to ogle at his bulging muscles- no, that's not it.. to grab more snacks for your friends...

you try to avert your gaze from him as you look for an appropriate bowl to pour the bag of crisps into, but the cupboard! it's too high up!

you try on your tippy toes and manage to touch the bowl, but it's still a struggle...

"you know, you should just ask for help, instead of potentially making more trouble for us."

his body brushes up against you for a second as he grabs the bowl easily. "is this what you want?"

"yes, sorry..." you could erupt into a nosebleed any second now.

"you're welcome."

with a smirk, he walks back into his room with his plateful of sandwiches.

you seemingly float back to the living room with the bowl of snacks in your hands

"i ran into your brother in the kitchen... he was shirtless...." you say with hearts still in your eyes

"what?? and you came back out alive? he hates it when someone comes into the kitchen while hes using it..."

youre giggling and falling into deeper delusions (or is it really?)

one day, you show up at yuujis house bc you and him became partners for a project at uni, but the person who answers the door is not yuuji

"h-hi... is yuuji home?" you ask.

"he's not home right now, sweetie. but you're free to come in if you want."

s-sweetie... you repeat inside your head.

sukuna basically sees your tail wagging behind you. you're so easy, arent you?

you sit on the sofa in the living room, and to your panic, sukuna makes himself comfortable next to you as well, making you tense up

"relax... i won't bite," he tells you with a languid smirk. "or, do you want me to?"

(yes. yes, i want you to.)

the conversation goes back and forth a little bit, and he gets flirtatious but before it escalates, yuuji returns home.

from then on, he gets more and more bold whenever you come over, giving little teasing touches whenever he gets the chance, driving you madd

numbers are exchanged eventually - without your friends knowing.

and then; you receive a text while youre sitting with them one evening, saying "if you're wanting a little more, you can come upstairs to my room."

...you tell your friends youre going to the toilet, and make your way up. giving a soft knock at his door, he opens up and looks down at you with sultry eyes.

(whatever happens in that room? a secret.)

now every time you're over at yuuji's place, sukuna texts you to come pay him a visit. things either end up with you sucking his dick, or just a quickie. (its all very steamy but youre always leave wanting more) ... its so hot to think abt going back to sit with your friends again after he's stuffed you with his load, and pulled your panties back up for you

"you look a bit sweaty, y/n. you okay?"

you tell them it was a tough no. 2 (i mean, what else can you tell them??)

sukuna as well, feels a little... lonely.... whenever you have to make your way back as soon as things are finished

during one afternoon, he overhears you guys talking about your newly found crush-- an older senior upperclassman from uni (getou suguru)

"did you guys see the way he smiled at me? he's so dreamy..."

"do you ever get tired of changing love interests?"

and this upset sukuna more than he expected.

he demands you come up soon after, and intense sex ensues, where he's rougher than usual, possessiveness showing

at one point during it, he asks why you're looking at other men, when you have him... and you tearfully tell him its because you want more than just this, you want to go on dates and be asked out like other girls...

"you could've just asked me. you thought i wouldn't commit?"

sure, you started out as a fun little toy for him, but now he's well aware there's something more going on here...

things get softer and youre left heaving, arms wrapped around sukuna as he looms over your body

"we took too long... they're gonna find out," you tell him.

"let them. why do we need to be a secret, anyway?"

"we don't? i thought that's what you wanted."

"what? when did i-"

(yuuji opens the door)

oh. my. god.

panic and screaming occurs, and the door is slammed shut, leaving you awfully embarrassed, and sukuna just sighing and putting a shirt back on.

"c'mon, sweetheart. we have some explaining to do."

theres a lot of chaos, yuujis face is STILL red and nobara + megumi are horrified, but all ends well bc at least now, you can date sukuna openly, and have your first relationship in peace.

[maplleaf]

《 Spark 》

[Boothill (HSR) x GN! Reader]

Boothill is a leaked char, but no story spoilers. Just his general vibes from the leaked pics I saw.

Very short too lol, I'm trying to get my motivation back for the dr ratio fic

"Ouch, can't ya' be a bit gentle, Spark?"

Your brows furrowed at the remark and nickname. The sound of mechanical parts malfunctioning is heard clearly, all due to the work of your hands.

"For the last time, I'm not a fucking mechanic. You just keep on insisting I fix you up," you scoffed, but still trying your best to somehow fix his arm. "And what does Spark even mean?! I told you I don't know any of your slang."

Boothill laughed, "why don't you ask your family fellas?"

The half cyborg could see the shudder that went down your spine as you attempted to fix his robotic arm. "They'd kill me. Even touching you would make me lose my upcoming projects."

"Ya' wound me, Spark..." Boothill remarked, feigning a wound on his heart, despite him placing his hand on his right chest.

The sentiment made your roll your eyes, going back to the task at hand.

Both of you remained in a blissful silence after, your whole focus on Boothill's arm, not even realizing the pair of grey eyes staring at you under the shadow of his hat.

A small chuckle escaped his lips, 'a sight better than any dreams,' he thought. Shamelessly staring at you, leaning back against the chair and enjoying his view.

Your focused face brought him glee. The way your lips pout as another error came up in your attempt to fix his arm, the brief moment where he could see stars in your eyes, only to be shrouded in dissapointment once more as another failure struck.

He relished in your... everything. The way you agreed to help him despite knowing barely anything about his robotic parts made his heart melt, knowing that you just want to help him.

Just looking at you made him giddy inside, the thought that you're touching his arm can motivate him to fight the entire Bloodhound Family on his own.

He didn't care if he got roughed up in the fight, any losses he might've gotten in any fight is a win if it means he'll be seeing this.

Before he knew it, you noticed his gaze fixed on you. "Your sharp-ass teeth isn't making the staring comforting..."

Hearing that made the latter laugh again, taking off his hat and using it to cover his mouth, but his vision still locked onto you. "This' better, Darlin'?"

The sudden nickname made you stop in your track, Boothill's frustrating smirk hidden behind the hat. With a scoff, you grabbed his hat, throwing it right at his face before standing up from the chair.

"Fix this arm by yourself. I'm heading back to the Golden Hour," you spat out, dropping the tools on the table, walking over to the glowing blue 'pond' that became the entrance to the dreamscape.

"What? A nickname ruffled ya' up?" Boothill teased, seeing you lay down and close your eyes. His words were met with a middle finger coming from you, right before you drifted off to the dreamscape. The furrowed and irritated face turned into a peaceful slumber.

Seeing you asleep, Boothill sighed, wearing the hat back on his head. Mechanical sounds could be heard from his arm, and a few moments later; he stretched the robotic arm, as if nothing was wrong in the first place.

He walked over to you, making sure you were truly sleep.

The cold mettalic hand went to your face, moving away the strands of hair on your face.

He smiled, his sharp teeth showing faintly beneath the smile. "Good dreams, Spark," he murmured softly.

"... one day I'll tell you what it means."

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

Spark – A lover, a beau.

[qwimchii]

𝘴𝘮𝘢𝘴𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘱𝘶𝘮𝘱𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘴 (pt 4) — 𝘚𝘪𝘮𝘰𝘯 𝘙𝘪𝘭𝘦𝘺

pt 1 pt 2 pt 3 pt 4 pt 5

𝘨𝘩𝘰𝘴𝘵 𝘹 𝘤𝘪𝘷𝘪𝘭𝘪𝘢𝘯!𝘧𝘦𝘮!𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳

𝘴𝘶𝘮𝘮𝘢𝘳𝘺 — 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥𝘯’𝘵 𝘬𝘦𝘦𝘱 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘴𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘯 𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘮𝘪𝘴𝘦𝘴 𝘢𝘨𝘢𝘪𝘯𝘴𝘵 𝘚𝘪𝘮𝘰𝘯 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘭𝘰𝘯𝘨. 𝘸𝘤 — 3.4k

𝘨𝘦𝘯𝘳𝘦 — 𝘧𝘭𝘶𝘧𝘧, 𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘴𝘵

𝘸𝘢𝘳𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴/𝘵𝘢𝘨𝘴 — 𝘴𝘭𝘰𝘸𝘸𝘸 𝘣𝘶𝘳𝘳𝘳𝘳𝘯𝘯𝘯, 𝘭𝘰𝘸𝘬𝘦𝘺 𝘦𝘯𝘦𝘮𝘪𝘦𝘴 𝘵𝘰 𝘧𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘯𝘥𝘴 𝘵𝘰 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘴, 𝘤𝘶𝘳𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘣𝘢𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘳, 𝘧𝘭𝘪𝘳𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨

note: omg okay i know this is so short but i promise i will be posting the next part (which is quite long!) in a couple of daysss so here's some more flirting and angst for you!! >< also thank you for all the love and support for this series :,))

you couldn’t keep your sworn promises against Simon for long.

the next day, you were already back in the basement of the church for another support group meeting. it was mid-day, and you were showing the progress of your individual projects in the past week.

Kate had forced you and Simon, re-masked and clad in black, to sit side by side, leaving you itching with exasperation, because if you thought it couldn’t get more awkward than when you first met, it was so much worse now.

he made more progress with the sewing project than you had believed he could—a third of his box already finished, you realized, as he presented its contents to the rest of the girls who practically cooed over him.

they almost went ballistic when he pulled out your old hello kitty pouch you lended to him. his glare boring into the side of your face, you scrambled to explain that he borrowed the materials from you—including the pink pouch. they all deflated, the smiles dropping from their faces, and you bit a snort at the way Simon relaxed back into his seat.

he really hates attention, you noted, then wiped the thought from your mind, because since when were you keeping mental notes on him?

the rest of the meeting continued on, dull and boring, till Kate applauded the group for its progress and announced that you all would be going on a little field trip to the pumpkin patch a couple streets down. 

your mouth went stale. pumpkin carving. you almost forgot you’d be sharing that activity with Simon as well.

you glanced at him, finding him already gazing at you, eyes quickly flitting away when your eyes met his. you cocked your brow at him.

weirdo, you thought, though it came out half-hearted and made your stomach feel all warm and gooey. 

you attached yourself to Maya and Sarah the whole walk there, Simon a few steps behind, and flanked by some girls who were eager to get in a few words with him. Iris, a married woman, was one of them, you noticed with a little burst of annoyance.

looking back at him from over your shoulder, Iris flush by his side, you sent Simon a nasty glare and his eyes only narrowed, head tilting like he was confused, but your head snapped forward with a hmph, promptly ignoring him again.

you practically stomped the rest of the way, Sarah and Maya locked in conversation with a couple other girls who paid no attention no mind to your strange behavior. by the time you neared the farmer’s market, your outburst had dwindled, and you were conversing with the girls intermittently, craning your head to get a look at the little pumpkin patch.

side-stepping to catch a glimpse of the market’s vegetable booth outfront, you were totally unaware of the biker making his way down the sidewalk from behind, you would’ve crashed into him if a strong arm didn’t hoist you over by your waist.

you shrieked as the biker whizzed by without a second thought, clutching at the arm snug around your waist.

“careful,” Simon hissed, voice rough and throaty in your ear as he set you down. he smoothed your shirt of the creases he had just created, touch warm against your clothes.

scrambling from his grip, you mumbled a meek sorry, flushed with embarrassment as the other girls checked on your well-being.

“are you okay?” Sarah asked, face flicked with concern and you just nodded quickly, throat tight when you noticed Maya’s eyes dart from you to Simon (who you stubbornly ignored) then back to you again.

Sarah followed Maya’s gaze and strung an arm through yours, pulling you close between her and Maya when she whispered, “what’s going on between you and Simon?”

“nothing,” you hissed, knowing how unconvincing it seemed. 

Maya eyed you carefully. “what happened when you went home together last night?”

your throat only tightened at the memory. “literally nothing. he was kind enough to offer me a ride home and i invited him inside for one drink. just one.”

she nodded slowly, but looked completely unconvinced.

Sarah added with a sincere look, “i thought you didn’t… you know, hang out with guys.”

you grimaced. “i don’t.”

she pursed her lips, sharing a look with Maya, though it wasn’t unkind.

“i’m happy for you,” she said with a light smile, patting your cheek. “i’m happy you’re friends with Simon now.”

you bit back a groan. “we’re not—”

Kate shushed you from the head of the group and you jolted, completely unaware that she had been talking at all. you screwed your lips together at the glare she sent you, sending her a ferocious one of your own, and her face twitched with brief amusement before turning back to the group and dishing out some instructions.

it was simple—you’d be helping some kids from the local daycare pick out their own pumpkins to paint. not so simple was the part where you’d be helping in pairs.

moping, you trudged over to stand beside Simon, still refusing to look at him, and filed into a line on the sidewalk to cross the street. at the farmer’s market, some kids were running around, screaming and shouting and squealing as they played.

you let the smile creep onto your lips at the sight of one of the little girls in a yellow raincoat and big, red rain boots even though it was sunny as ever outside. she ran past you, slowing with a shy look, curls bouncing against her head, before she ran off again to play with her friends.

soon enough, the group dispersed, moving around with the daycare teachers to help the kids. you stood by Simon for a long moment in silence. taking one glance at the hulking man, covered in black, to decide that he needed to take off the surgical mask.

you pointed to your face, mouthing mask, and you were dismayed when his eyes narrowed, slowly shaking his head.

you rolled your eyes. “it’s for the children.”

he sighed, ripping the black mask from his face and crumpling it into his hand, shoving it into his pocket.

you nodded in approval, moving to help one boy struggling to pick up a pumpkin half the size of him. with the softest words you could muster, and a gentle tap on his shoulder, you willed him to move over and let you do it. he relented, and you picked up the pumpkin with a huff of breath, carrying it over to the pick-up truck on the side of the road where you were instructed to put the pumpkins. the boy happily skipped beside you, singing out a thank you as you pushed the gourd across the bed of the truck, smiling after him as he ran off again.

looking back to where your partner was, you bit back a snort at the sight of a couple kids shyly prodding at him, two running circles around him, another hanging off his outstretched arm. 

he stooped down to pick up a big pumpkin when a little girl pointed to one, the little girl in a yellow raincoat and curls, clapping with excitement when he did it with only one hand. the kids bumbled after him as he walked toward you, your heart swelling at the relaxed, content look on his face, saying something to a little boy tugging on his pant leg, another girl clutching at his hand.

when he stopped in front of you, eyes flitting between you and the pumpkin in his hand, you let out a soft oh, snapping out of whatever daze the sight had put you in, and you hoisted up the heavy thing, struggling to push it into the bed of the pick-up truck. two arms came flush around your shoulders and helped you lift it, chest flush to your back and his breath by your ear as he shoved it back so it knocked against the other pumpkins.

“thanks,” he said, voice gravel and breath warm on your neck before he stepped back. your throat closed up, unable to choke anything back except a low hum and nod.

he let the kids drag him back towards the pumpkin patch, a couple of them demanding that they hang from his arms. in response, he held out an arm, and two boys latched on, swinging with squeals as he walked.

your stomach roiled. shit. he was good with kids. in a silent, calm sort of way. 

nothing like your own father, an faraway voice ruminated with awe, and you immediately quelled the thought, the fast thud of your heart in your throat deafening. shit. was this what he meant by maturity?

as much as you tried to rid yourself of the thoughts, it was almost impossible, spiraling around your mind as you helped the kids till they had effectively filled the back of the pick-up truck with an array of different shaped gourds of varying colors.

meeting in a big circle to close the event, the pack of daycare kids said their thank yous and bid their goodbyes, that little girl in a yellow raincoat hanging off Simon even as the rest of the kids were following their teachers back to the little daycare. he had to pry her from him, saying something in a low tone that you couldn’t make out from across the circle, till she nodded with hesitancy, sending him one last bashful look, before scurrying off to join the line of kids filing down the sidewalk from the farmer’s market.

beside you, Maya stared at Simon with a sort of reverence you had never seen on her before, and your heart almost shattered at the sight. curling an arm around her shoulders, her eyes dragged from Simon to you with a confused look. you just returned it with a light smile, beginning a ramble about the events of the day that Sarah happily chimed into, adding her own stories and thoughts with an animated nature.

Kate thanked your group for all the help, dismissing you to the rest of your sunday evenings, and you startled when she made a beeline directly for you, plucking you from the conversation as the rest of the girls began discussing where they’d be eating dinner.

“walk with me,” Kate said sharply, a tight smile on her lips as she looped her arm into yours. you had no time to protest before she was tugging you down a path through the pumpkin patch, away from the rest of the group.

when you looked back, you pretended to not notice Simon staring after you, a couple other girls, including Iris, still flush by his side.

“i heard from a little birdie that you and Simon have been getting along well,” Kate said, and you rolled your eyes.

“i know you’re talking about Sarah, Kate.”

she grimaced by your side. “right. Sarah. she told me.”

you gave her a long look. “i know you asked Sarah, Kate.”

she ignored you this time, stopping when you were at the edge of the forested park beyond the farmer’s market. you were ready for her to begin lecturing you—commanding you to explain yourself and the strange, tense atmosphere between you and Simon…

instead, she asked, a foreign tinge of plea in her words, “how is Simon doing?”

you blinked at her. “how is he doing?”

she nodded. “how is he doing?”

“i…” with a murky feeling of guilt, you realized hadn’t really taken the time to consider it. “i think he’s alright.”

she sighed out, fishing around her pocket, pulling a cigarette from it, and a lighter from her breast pocket.

“do you mind?”

you just shrugged. you were used to the smell from working at the auto shop, your dad going through a pack a day bent over cars to complete an endless list of repairs. it’s no wonder he passed so soon.

pushing the old, stale thoughts away, you pried Kate. “why? is everything alright?”

she took a long drag, politely turning her head to the side to exhale out against the chilly fall air. “just between you and me hon’, i worry for him.”

you rolled your eyes, pushing her shoulder playfully. “he’s a big boy. i’m sure he can handle himself.”

she gave you a wistful smile. “something like that.”

your brow quirked, eyeing the tired look on her features carefully. “sounds like there’s stuff you’re not telling me, Kate.”

she sighed long and heavy. “i was the one who kind of forced him to do this thing. i’m surprised he hasn’t walked away screaming bloody murder already.”

your brows raised slightly. “why’s that?”

she just chuckled in a dark, mirthless tone, brushing back her hair. “s’just not in his nature. he refused to go to a personal therapist, so i offered the group thing to him instead. i honestly think he’s just doing it to make me happy. or maybe to make me finally leave him alone.”

you swallowed hard, thinking back to the dirty blonde man, tall with a heavy build, skin surprisingly warm to the touch. you weren’t foreign to the same beliefs, avoiding personal, one-on-one therapy your entire life because the vulnerability of it was too…

you grimaced.

“has he told you anything?” she asked suddenly, and you frowned.

“what do you mean?”

“has he opened up at all?” she rephrased, and you blinked at her, unsure what to say.

“he has,” was all you confirmed, and she nodded, looking a bit relieved.

“good. good to hear.”

with that, the conversation ended, and you walked a step behind Kate to the girls who were still chattering about dinner and, somewhat unsurprisingly, Simon nowhere in sight. though the vacancy of his presence still felt eerie.

Sarah pulled you to her, pointing down the street, saying they’d be going to a comfy little joint known for soups and sandwiches, but after your conversation with Kate, your stomach roiled with discomfort. waving them off, you promised that you’d join next time, feeling guilty from all their kind remarks—no, come with us, no, we’ll miss you—but you took off in the direction of the church, ready to rid yourself of all the crawling, creeping sensations of your body after the day’s events.

in time, the familiar white church emerged from the mist, looking ominous in the foggy weather. you swallowed, pushing through its double doors, a thick, eerie silence muffling any sound in chapel except for your footsteps.

quickly, you descended down the stairs, and strode down the hallway, opening the doors to the meeting room and making a beeline for your box of costumes. Simon’s had already been taken, you noted, assuming he had made early headway back to the church for the materials. with a shiver, you carefully laid out each costume over one another into the box and snapped the lid shut, shivering violently from that draft that passed through the basement as you picked up the box and turned when—

“cold?”

you screamed. a real, long scream ripped from your throat as you scrambled backwards and crashed into a chair, dropping your box that split in half, its contents spilling out over the floor again. you tumbled to the floor, and once the world stopped spinning, you groaned out, forehead against the carpet.

“what the fuck, Simon,” you hissed, pushing yourself slowly off the ground. Simon, remasked, was already half-way to you, holding out a tentative hand that clenched and unclenched in the open air.

you just held up a hand. “don’t.”

he nodded, straightening, before edging closer to you with an open palm. 

you sighed out, taking his outstretched hand and letting him pull you to your feet. you rubbed at your shoulder that had slammed against a chair in your fall.

“are you alright?” he asked slowly, voice thick and rough, and you just let out a tight laugh.

“m’fine. don’t worry,” you said, stooping down to pick up the costumes, wincing at the new soreness of your body.

Simon immediately pushed away your hands, crouching down to lay the costumes in your box, so you moved to right the chairs again. but he was over in a flash, doing it for you. 

huffing with frustration, you chided him, “Simon.”

but he ignored you, standing up two other chairs before moving back to the halloween costumes strewn over the floor, careful with each one.

“you have really got to stop scaring me like that,” you grumbled, watching him put the lid back on the box, snapping down the sides.

he paused, stock still a moment. when he didn’t respond, and didn’t even move, you stared at the back of his head with a new confusion.

“Simon—?”

“sorry,” he said under his breath, still not moving.

you blinked, shifting closer to him, and edged around so you could see the eerily blank expression on his face as he stared forward on an untrained point.

you dropped to a crouch beside him. “is everything alright—?”

“i didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”

you stared at the side of his face, your jaw dropping with dismay, then closing again. “it’s okay. you didn’t mean to scare me.”

he shook his head, dark eyes finally moving over to hold your gaze. “i meant yesterday.”

with that, you flushed. “oh.”

he meant last night.

“i shouldn’t have said all that stuff,” he grumbled, avoiding your gaze now.

his words were sharp. “just forget that i said anything.”

a cutting ache speared your chest. forget everything he said?

“you didn’t mean it?” you squeaked, unsure what to say. 

he stood, taking your box with him. you straightened slowly, taking the box from his hands. his eyes were on yours but you felt like he was looking straight through you.

“yeah. none of it.”

weakly, you nodded, your whole body feeling heavy as you left the meeting room. a murky, damp feeling weighed down your chest. 

you both walked out the church in silence, Simon just a step behind you, and the mist against your skin enveloped you in a bone-chilling suffocation.

you were hyper aware of Simon’s gaze on you as he watched you pop open your trunk and shove the box of costumes inside. closing it, you turned to him, his own box of costumes in his hands. you would’ve laughed at the sight, such a big, burly military man and his own box of sewn items, the pink, hello kitty pouch stacked on top the lid, but the laughter couldn’t find you through the mist.

you don’t need a ride? you had offered, but he had just shook his head, half-turning from you as he jerked his head down the road. s’just a fifteen minute walk.

you had grimaced, pressing, but what if it starts raining?

he had just shrugged. don’t worry about me.

then you had said goodbye, watching him walk away and into the mist. the problem was, whether or not you chose it, half of you had started worrying for him all the time.

you slid into your car, letting the heavy feeling consume you. turning on the ignition, your grip tight on the steering wheel, you bit back tears when the first drops of rain fell onto your windshield. you flicked on the fog lights and backed up out of the parking lot, pulling onto the road, rain coming down quicker now. by the time you reached your townhouse, which was just a block away, it was pelting, and the tears were streaming down your face.

you clutched at your chest, rubbing circles over it like Simon taught you. it didn’t seem to work nearly as much as when you were in his arms. the strong warmth of him pressed into you. his soft words by your ear.

leaning forward in your seat, your forehead came to rest against the horn of the steering wheel, uncaring for your tears that ran down the leather and the loud blare that cut through the evening, hoping the downpour would drown out the sound.

yeah. poor simon's walking home through the rain. he's probably crying too 😇

next part coming very soon you guys!!! happy halloweenings!!! (my senior halloween day is this thursday..... my friends and i are going as 2010 justin bieber and bringing selena gomez cardboard cutouts bc i think that's hilarious)

taglist: @kenma-izhu @actuallyhiswife @froggielottiee @neenieweenie @delaynew @ilovehyperfixating @vxnilla-hxrddrugs @tomorrowseverything @moonlqths @ivybeeloved @babygirl-riley @keiva1000 @arminarlertssword @crowbird @jasonloveclub @karurururu @embers-of-alluring @newsies-pape-girl @suhmie @amberpanda99 @mystsee @cosmoscoffee

@hunterofhonor @wawuwe @kunikku @corvusmorte @hearts4sky @aloudplace @justletmelivethanks @shadowdaddysposts @leclercdream @ayanokomu @thedevillovesflowers @thisuserloveshalloween @soundsfunbutno @enfppixie @tired-bi-ass @http-paprika @xaestheticalien @vonev @garfieldssocks @sapphire-read @moonstonedeluluere @killergoddess97 @cassiecasluciluce @xxkay15xx @mrflyingbanana03 @magneto-was-fucking-right @riverbutghost@palomaxaxaxa @hobiespick

[time-woods]

these are the works of a mad man- these 2 literally make me feel insane evrytime i draw them- anyways i am now going to share my autism analysis of the 2 of them 

I feel the need to shout this from the rooftops but- Kim is most definitely a low empathy autistic with high emotional understanding/awareness !! Like- he doesn’t pick up on cues but he still can figure out emotional tones of certain situations!!(has a bit of a hard time expressing tone/ emotion through actions and expressions so he typically uses his words instead) And he has no internal dialog!! Along with not being able to picture things in his mind!! (aphantasia) (that part is pretty much cannon he practically says it))  always needs to be doing something with his hands- can’t just have them by his side,(too open, too vulnerable- yes this is the fight or flight in me speaking) is either holding his hands in front of himself or behind his back, or writing in his notebook, along with checking the time on his watch or fiddling with it. Looks down when walking most of the time (esp on a scene) but it’s just become a general habit- forgets he has to make eye contact- typically more invested in writing down whatever he’s realized in his notes to care (he is so me)

 And Harry is the opposite in that department- (how I play his character at least) high empathy autistic- good intentions but can read the mood wrong at times! Very outwardly expressive- Gots a whole narrator in his head I also think he’s got a pretty good imagination. This mf can’t stand still to safe his life on god he’s got to b moving every 5 seconds in order to not catch on fire. also most likely has maladaptive daydreaming? a bit upsetting but god does it work well for his whole character. Mf is constantly stretching- probably has extremely tensed muscles, shoulders n stuff (th stress). This bich would and probably has apologized or cursed out a chair for accidentally bumping into it. Eye contact is a no go- mostly cause he’s looking around the room already moving on to the next thing or just straight up more interested abt the thing behind you to care about maintaining eye contact

(I heart viewing characters through an autistic lens and either projecting or scrutinizing every single one of their mannerisms)

[justauthoring]

ATTACK ON TITAN - JUST A TAD JEALOUS

includes: jean kirstein, eren jaeger, connie springer and levi ackerman all xfem!reader

a/n: i honestly don't know what this is :)

jean kirstein:

pouty :(

as much as he tries to act confident, jean gets extremely insecure when he sees someone else flirty with you

he'll watch from a far as the guy smirks down at you, invading your personal space as he brushes a strand of hair behind your ear and whispers something into it all one fell swoop - and jean will hardly be able to stop the heavy pout that curls onto his lips

it's not that he doesn't trust you (literally, takes everything you say and believes it - he trusts you more than anything) but he can't help but wondering if maybe that guy would look better with you and if others think that too

he can be a little oblivious sometimes and although he tries to make you his first priority, it doesn't always work out that way

maybe you'd be happier with this-

"i have a boyfriend, thank you very much"

your voice booms over the noise of the party, the noise cutting out momentarily as jean blinks in your direction.

he'd looked away for a split second and now you're glaring up at the guy, eyes set into a nasty glare as you push him off of you

a second later and you're marching your way through the crowd, ignoring the eyes that follow you or the sputter of the guy behind you, not stopping until you reach jean and the second you do the frown that had been stuck on your lips vanishes and a warm smile curls onto your lips

"there you are"

jean just blinks down at you

"why didn't you come save me," you pout up at him, falling against him dramatically as you draped yourself over him entirely; "that guy was weird and creepy and all i wanted was my handsome, strong boyfriend to protect me"

:((

now he feels worse

"sorry baby," he smiles down but it doesn't reach his eyes

you meet his gaze before shaking your head, "don't worry, jean, i would never leave you"

and he feels his heart swell at your words and the fact that he hadn't even had to say anything and you just knew

eren jaeger:

doesn't even let the guy finish

one second he's talking to armin after class about a project coming up and it's like his sense go off, his head snapping over his shoulder in the direction of you

erens eyes widen

you've been cornered against a wall, some guy eren's never seen before stood in front of you with his arm stretched across you, palm pressed against the wall next to your head

that's all it takes

the guys halfway through sending some sort of flirtatious comment your way when eren abruptly shoves his way through, not-so-subtly shoving the guy out of the way and coming to stand in front of you, fulling blocking your view of the guy

you're swarmed by him, eren's arms coming around you and pressing you against the wall as he smirks down at you

you blink up at him, dazed, the whole thing happening far too quick for you to process

"hi baby"

there's a shit-eating grin across his face

"eren-!"

"excuse me but i was-"

eren spins around, smile fading as he glowers down at the guy

"excuse you," he spits, "but i'm trying to have a conversation with my girlfriend"

every bit of his confidence fades then before he scampers away, thoroughly embarrassed

"that's what i thought"

"eren," you call, tugging him to face, "he-"

"was flirting with you," eren rolls his eyes like he can't believe you're even questioning it, "and i had to protect your honour!"

you just raise a brow at him

connie springer:

he's a little shit to be honest

not at all threatened but that doesn't mean he's gonna let the guy flirt with you

oh, definitely not

"y/nnnnnnnn~! i'm horny!"

cue you burning bright red, body tensing as connie wraps his entire body around you, nearly toppling you over as the boy in front of you turns beet red himself, sputtering

"i-i..."

"mm?" connie questions, lazily letting his eyes drift to the boy like he'd just noticed him for the first time (which all of you knew wasn't true), "oh, didn't see you there"

the boy blinks

"you're so... tiny"

your jaw slacks, "connie!"

"what!"

you just turn to him but he's grinning, eyes twinkling with delight as he shifts, moving to wrap an arm around your waist and pulling you flush against his side

"seriously though, y/n, i'm horny"

"connie, what the-"

"i-i... i should go!"

the boy goes running off before you can say anything

silence follows

"connie"

"hm?"

"he was asking me about the project we were grouped together for"

"oh"

turning to him, you shake your head, "yeah, 'oh'! what am i supposed to say to him now?"

"nothing?" connie shrugs, like the answer was obvious

"connie!"

"what!"

you huff, rolling your eyes but unable to stop the smile that slowly curls onto your lips at your boyfriend

"i was serious you know"

"shut up"

levi ackerman:

no one dares, to be honest

levi is quite literally glued to your hip

he's not a big fan of pda, but he is always near you; whether that be a hand pressed against your back, or holding your hand, or hovering somewhere close to you...

levi is always there

...glaring at any potential man that step towards you

if a guy does try to flirt (not even flirt, just talk to you) with you, levi is glaring at him the. entire. time.

a domineering, honestly terrifying presence behind you constantly

and you?

you're aware and you simply let levi

you're just as smitten with him as he is you and you'd happily let him do whatever he wanted if it meant just getting to spend time with him

levi has no reason to even get jealous because no one dares and you're utterly oblivious to any attempts

if someone flirts with you, you just simply bring up levi, smiling brightly and giggling at the mere thought of your adorable, wonderful boyfriend

and honestly?

its a huge boost to his ego