#after learning that here on the country side he can run as much as he wants as long as he comes back he hasn't stopped

[wannabe-all]

City people long for the countryside and green in such a cute way, they lay on the grass in parks with their little blankets, the sunbathe there, the sit under the shadow of a big tree, go in walks in the park, the park is always full, all of them are no matter the area, people are touching nature constantly, the plants are on the window or on a small terrace where their pots barely fit, there are countless flower shops and decorations with plants both real and plastic.

As obvious and stupid this may sound for people living in the city it actually surprised me when I went to the capital, in all green areas with grass there was someone laying there like a lizard catching the good hours of sun in the morning. I live in a small town, few people and surrounded by nature, it's not exactly green and grassy and field like but I can sure take of my shoes when I go on walks and go barefoot without any concern, I can sit on any rock I want and under any tree, I know their names and species and some of their history. I know the places that hold water and where they are, I know where rabbits, snakes and foxes live. I see them everyday. People in the city don't, they don't know how that feels on a daily basis, they seek nature because they lack it, I seek the noise and activity of the city because I lack it too, but when it becomes too much I can go back home where the air is clean and my dog is fat and my other dog jumps off the most ridiculously high and dangerous places and lands perfectly, where everything is dusty and the almond trees are growing their gorgeous slick leaves and fuzzy fruits. Where do they go when life is too much? Does the grass make them feel connected to their own nature?

Does it hurt when they go back home after the park closes?

[norrisleclercf1]

Siren Eyes

Pairing: Siren!Lando Norris x Human Reader x Werewolf Oscar \

PART 1 OF 2

Rating: R

Words: 7.5K

Warnings: Angst, hating one self, panic/anxiety attacks, also kinda made Daniel a villain but don't worry

Synopsis: Lando's excited about his new teammate, until this new teammate has him losing control

A/N: woah, the love for this fic I have is insane, honestly I couldn't be prouder of myself for writing this

Lando wanted nothing more than to curl into a ball and sleep; instead, he was sitting in a stupid meeting, learning about his new teammate. "He's a werewolf, but very calm and keeps to himself, so I think that's perfect for you after...Daniel." Lando sighed, closing his eyes as he remembered what happened when Daniel learned the truth about Lando. The way he felt unsafe, and the team dealt with it swiftly. He'll always be grateful as McLaren has been the only team to openly not oppose what Lando is. He's forever thankful. "He does have a girlfriend; from what we know, they're rather private; she's a human, sweet girl," Zak adds, and Lando nods. 

"And, does he know?" Zak's response was a gentle shake of the head, and Lando's understanding was clear in his nod. Oscar remained unaware of Lando's true nature, a decision that Lando believed was in their mutual best interest. "Now, he'll be here in a few days to join us for promotions, pictures, and all the boring stuff you hate. But he's a sweet kid; don't put him at arm's distance, okay?" Lando sighs, looking out of the large windows and staring at the green plains of Woking. "Yeah, alright." 

The meeting ends; Zak hangs back, Lando making no attempt to stand, much less leave, as he stares at the picture of Oscar smiling. "He's a good kid; I don't think he'll care what you are, Lando. He's from Australia. They're the first real country to be open to the idea of," "Sirens? That's because they're Australian, surrounded by water, and have a fairly large population." Lando huffs and looks up, taking in the statistics. "He's going to give me hell, isn't he?" Zak snorts and leans on his chair, folding his hands. "Yes," 

Lando sits up and takes off his sunglasses, his sea-green eyes sparkling in the sun; with a smirk, Lando leans back, staring at the picture. "Bring it on," 

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Oscar groans when he feels pressure on his chest. He knows what the weight is, and honestly, he wishes it was a different kind of weight. Slowly blinking, he comes face to face with Mr. Orange, your cat. He hoped it was you sitting on his chest. Instead, it's the damn cat. When you started dating, he clarified that he was a werewolf; you just rolled your eyes and didn't care. Being human and dating a supernatural wasn't uncommon but not overly popular. 

When you made it clear you had a cat, Oscar groaned loudly; cats and he didn't mix well. But since he started staying over, Mr. Orange, this old, grumpy, fluff ball of an orange cat, has not left his side. The cat actually prefers Oscar over you. Oscar would never admit it, but he grew close to the cat and started getting used to its weight, which he wakes up to. "Morning, Mr. Orange," The cat just blinks at Oscar, purring slightly when Oscar scratches behind his ear. 

"Oscar, phone call," You don't have to yell; he can hear you clearly as he groans and buries his head in the pillow, wanting to hide from the world. "Who is it?" He yells, and your sweet giggle has him smiling. "Zak Brown?" Oscar jumps up, Mr. Orange voicing his displeasure at losing his pillow, running down the stairs, Oscar following. "Seriously?" You giggle, holding the phone, and nod; grabbing it, he places it on his ear. 

"Mr. Brown, hi." You snicker, and Oscar waves you off, slapping your ass which has you running to the kitchen. "Oscar, good morning; I hope I didn't wake you," Zak jokes, as it is well-known how much Oscar loved his sleep. "No sir, actually just got done with training." You snort a laugh, and Oscar glares at you in the doorway. You stick your tongue and slowly start to raise the shirt that you're wearing. Oscar sucks in a breath and cuts you a look that says to knock it off. 

Smiling, you turn back to cooking and groan, having to reach something, the edge of the shirt rising, and Oscar about loses it there; you weren't wearing any underwear. Your perfect ass was on full display. "Oscar? Oscar?!" Oscar shakes his head and turns away, trying to ignore his blood rushing south. "Yes, sir, I'm thrilled to have joined the team and to work with Lando." Zak sighed. He was glad to hear that, and Oscar was proud of his media training. 

He wasn't lying. He was excited to work with McLaren and Lando but couldn't help but be a little weary, sensing they were keeping something from him. "Um, Mr. Brown," "Please call me Zak," "Okay, um, Zak," Oscar rubs the back of his neck, unsure how to approach the topic. "There isn't anything you're hiding, is there? I mean, about the team, I figured I'd have already met Lando properly," Oscar, with his excellent hearing, can hear how Zak stops breathing for a second before letting out a nervous chuckle. 

"Lando is just, well Lando. , you'll meet him properly in Woking. I hope that isn't an issue. That way, we'll talk in person. It's easier to explain." Oscar jumps when cold hands touch his warm skin. Calming down, Oscar covers your hands with just one of his and smiles, feeling your body push into his back. Oscar smiles when he feels your hand travel down and gently slide past the waist of his boxers. "Yes, Zak, that's perfectly fine." Oscar bites the inside of his cheek, feeling your hand grab his cock and start to slowly move up and down, and you place butterfly kisses on his back and shoulders. 

"I'm glad, and also, Oscar?" Oscar pulls the phone away, letting out a low groan, and then pressing the phone back to his ear. "Yes?" "Congratulations on becoming a Formula 1 Driver." "Thank you," Oscar hangs up the phone; taking your hand out, he spins and leans against the counter. "What are you doing?" He groans as you slowly sink to your knees and giggle. "About to blow my gorgeous, talented Formula 1 driver boyfriend." You comment, pull his boxers down, and lick your lips. 

"Yeah?" He asks, fingers cupping your cheek. You lean up and lick from his balls to his tip, sucking it, and he throws his head back. Pulling off, you smile up at him. "Yeah, he just a got a Formula 1 seat and a future World Champ; think that allows a blowjob, don't you?" Oscar groans low in his throat. It's almost a growl, "Fuck, yes." You smirked and placed a kiss on his hip as he closed his eyes and enjoyed the way your mouth felt on him. 

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Lando lays his head on the conference room table, sunglasses on and hood over his head, taking slow, deep breaths. It's odd, but he used to ask Carlos what it was like to smell and hear everything within a mile. Carlos would chuckle and ruffle his hair. 

"I can choose to turn it on and off, muppet." Lando would blush and crave Carlos's touch. Carlos was never afraid of Lando, as Carlos and Lando had a different love that was pure and based on brotherly love. With Daniel, he acted like he was okay with Lando being a siren when, really, he kept Lando at arm's length. It hurt; it made him miss Carlos. He would always slink off and sit with Carlos and Charles. 

It helped that they weren't attracted to Lando, so his powers and eyes would not affect them. Charles was a vampire, so he understood people's avoiding him and helped Lando hide his supernatural marks. Lando would be forever grateful when Carlos and Charles took him to a shop for vampires. It had contact lenses that could match his eye color; they were enchanted, so whenever he wore them, people could look at him in the eyes and not know he was a siren. 

Lando was wearing them now, but he was still careful. He would lie if he said he was relaxed about meeting Oscar. Oscar, a werewolf, was this extraordinary talent and probably came in and dethroned him as McLaren's golden boy. The door opens, and Lando groans, tightening his arms around his head. "You're early," Lando looks up at the dark outline of Adrea Stella, the Team Principal of McLaren. 

"You said to be here at 7. It's only 6:45." Lando whispers, looking at the giant clock on the wall. "Still," Andrea grumbles and starts lying out files. He smacks Lando gently on the head with his. "He's a good kid, won't be like," "I don't want him to know at all. The only people on the grid who know are Charles, Carlos, Max, and Daniel. But I don't think he'll say anything." Lando whispers; Andrea nods his head but is still worried about Lando. 

Everyone starts to float in, Lando sliding off his glasses and hood and ruffling his hair as time passes. "He does know where MTC is, right?" Lando asks, earning a couple of chuckles as Zak sighs and gives him a look. "What? He's about 15 minutes late." Lando defends himself, raising his hands. The door opens, and this boy with pale, perfect skin, round brown eyes, and soft, messy hair tumbles in. He is wearing an all-black outfit and smiles softly. Lando can tell immediately that this is Oscar, who was smaller when they last met, and now he is a buffer. 

"Oscar, welcome." Zak and Andrea stand, as does everyone else, but Lando is stilln't too shocked by Oscar's beauty. If anyone didn't know Oscar was a werewolf, they'd think he was the Siren with his perfect lips and stunning smile. "Hey, sorry I'm late, I overslept." Oscar mumbles, his cheeks a dusty pink, and Lando licks his lips. He can feel the tug in his chest and clears his throat, shaking off the twitch in his powers. 

Oscar makes his way around; Lando stands clumsily and holds out his hand when Oscar gets to him. "Hey, Oscar," Lando smiles brightly. "Yeah, I know, Lando. But you know that already," Lando and Oscar still shake hands until Zak clears his throat, making the two slowly stop and drop their hands. Lando grows cold again, missing the warmth that was tickling up his arm. "Well, why don't we start. Oscar moves around Lando, sits down in front of Lando, and watches the screen. Lando sits down slowly, unable to stop his eyes trailing to the back of Oscar's head. 

Lando twitches when he hears a soft vibrating noise. Oscar slowly looks around and slips his hand into the pocket of his black jacket. Pulling it out, he smiles. Lando hates how his skin crawls; that smile is so sweet and soft that he remembers hearing Oscar have a girlfriend. Oscar's fingers move, typing a quick reply before pocketing his phone. Oscar slowly raises his hand, and Lando can't help but think how cute he is. 

"Yes, Oscar?" Andrea calls, the lights flicking on, Lando blinks his eyes fast, but Oscar, with near-perfect eyes for a werewolf, doesn't even budge. "When you called me, it sounded like you were hiding something about the team; what is it?" Lando goes so fucking still he's sure Oscar would clock the fact he even stopped breathing. Oscar doesn't show awareness, staring hard at Zak and Andrea, who keep sharing looks. 

"There's an issue with the car, and we won't be able to fix it until Austria....it will be a hard start of the season," Andrea admits, and Lando sighs. Oscar nods, satisfied with the answer. "How bad are the issues?" He presses, and Lando is proud that the little rookie isn't afraid to ask the hard questions. "That's a good question. Will we look good in pre-season testing or be a laughing stock?" Lando asks, leaning back. Oscar casts a glance but quickly looks back at Zak and Andrea. 

"With the data, we're looking at being dead last; we'll most definitely be lapped and a possible DNF, maybe even for both cars," Andrea admits; Oscar finally looks at Lando, who is just leaning back in his chair with a slight smirk. "I like a challenge, do you Osc?" Oscar looks away, and Lando chuckles, seeing the slight blush on his pretty, pale skin. Lando can't help but wish he could make Oscar blush that prettily again. "Yeah," Oscar clears his throat and sits up straight. "I like a challenge." 

Zak and Andrea stare at each other before smiling at one another. "Perfect," 

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

"Hey mate," Lando jumps so far out of his skin that he fears he'll never get it back. Turning, he glares at Max, who sits on his couch with Petra, watching some trashy show. "How.." "We have a key for emergencies," Petra smiles, and Lando can't even argue, as he's grateful for his friends. "How was the meeting?" Max asks, sitting up slowly and looking over Lando. Max was one of Lando's best friends and the only one who never cared that he was a siren. Max was human and loved him; he didn't care if Lando was different; Lando was his brother. 

"It was fine," Lando looks away, trying to hide his blush as he hangs up his jacket, still wearing his sweatshirt. Petra and Max share a look, and both smirk, "Just fine?" She drawls out, biting the inside of his cheek; Lando glances at them sideways and moves to the kitchen. Petra is right before him, moving faster than light, giggling. "Stupid vampire speed," Lando grumbles as he faces Max, smugly looking his best friend up and down. "Does the bay have a crush?" His teasing tone has Lando pout, dragging himself to the couch. 

"He's cute," Lando drawls out the 'e,' his head thrown back and eyes closed. He pictures Oscar smiling at him as they leave the factory. "Lando, he is aware, yes?" Petra asks, crawling onto the couch, sitting on his other side, and pressing herself into his side. Lando's head flops and lands on her shoulder; Max's weight leaves the couch as he heads to the kitchen, probably to get Lando's favorite Jon-approved snacks. "Petra, why'd he have to be cute," Lando whines, Max comes back, dumping the bags on the couch, and Lando happily digs into them. 

"Mate, it's okay that he's cute. You learned to control your powers with Carlos, and Daniel was the real test," Max says as he sits on Lando's other side, the couple cuddling their friend. "Carlos, I just idolized him; he's my big brother and Daniel," Lando sighs; they had a challenging relationship initially, not really liking each other. But, as the year went on, and into the second year as teammates, Daniel had found out and didn't take it well. Daniel raised concerns with the team, and the team lashed him for saying Lando was only doing better cause he was using his powers. 

Lando was hurt, hurt that someone, yet again, was using what he was against him. Daniel even threatened to go to the FIA. He intended to report that Lando was a siren and used his powers to get ahead. The team shut it down immediately, and Daniel lost his seat. It was very tense, with some static between them, but it was improving. Daniel has apologized for what he did, and Lando accepted it, but that didn't mean things could return to how they were. 

"We know, buddy," Max whispers, playing with Lando's hair. Groaning loudly, Lando hides his face on a pillow. "He even has a girlfriend, which isn't a shocker; he's cute, funny, has great dry humor, and just....perfect." With Petra covering her mouth, Lando gushes, trying not to giggle at her friend's expense. "Well, maybe that's a good thing, him having a girlfriend, mate. You can remember that when your....song gets out of hand." Lando looks at him, confused. 

"Song? I don't know what triggers my powers, much less causes me to use them. I barely know anything about what I am. My parents are human, and I'm the freak of nature." Lando snaps, Max cringes and Petra sighs, knowing it wasn't fair to Lando. Being a siren in a family that was forever thought to be human, only to find out, was far from the truth. They try their best for Lando; Cisca and Adam are always there for him, but they don't understand, and there isn't much lore about sirens. All people knew were from the Odyssey, which didn't give them a good reputation. That's the only piece of work on sirens, and anytime someone heard the word Siren, they ran. 

"We're still looking; we'll find something, Lando, we promise," Max whispers, pulling his friend close and kissing the top of his head. 

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Oscar holds his arms out as you run at him, squealing loudly. He chuckles, happily catching you, spinning you around, and you wrap your legs around his waist. "How was it? Was it everything you dreamed? I'm sure it was!" You rapid fire at him; Oscar laughs, carrying you deeper into the apartment and placing you on the counter so he is at eye level with you. "It was good, but we're going to be struggling hard until Austria, but that's okay. People won't expect much from me, and I can just chill and learn the teamwork and all that." Oscar kisses the tip of your nose, still wearing what he left you this morning. His shirt, and only his shirt. 

"Well, that's good, and Lando?" You ask softly, watching Oscar's reaction, a slight blush, and you start to smile. "Knew it, I knew you'd find him attractive." You giggle, and Oscar sighs, resting his forehead on your shoulder. "Y/n," Oscar groans, wrapping his arms around your waist, squeezing slightly. "He is beautiful and has such pretty eyes." Oscar snorts, "Yeah, but we wear those stupid vampire contacts." Cocking your head to the side, you hum. "I didn't know he's a vampire; that explains why he's so good-looking." Oscar shakes his head. 

"No, he's not a vampire. He didn't smell like iron and earth. He....smelled like the sea, but that's probably because he lives in Monaco. He's not human, but it's not my place, and the team seems to ignore it, so I should, too." You move your fingers through his hair and tug softly. "Hey, I'm sure he'd tell you when he's ready," You knew this was bothering Oscar more than he'd let on. The team hid more than the car's status; they seemed nervous when Oscar asked about the earlier conversation and how Lando stopped breathing. 

It worried Oscar. Initially, he was going to ask about Lando's status. Still, he knew how everyone reacted, so he avoided that conversation and quickly changed it to the car. Lando started to breathe again, which calmed Oscar down; he didn't like upsetting the older Brit. It spiked Oscar's own anxiety when he felt Lando go still and stop breathing. It took everything in Oscar to not reach over and palce a hand on his knee. It was a reflex he did with you when you got nervous and felt that same protectiveness wrap around his heart. 

"Yeah, maybe; I'm hoping we're teammates for a long time," Oscar mumbles, fingers digging into your hips, taking a deep breath, smelling your shampoo and favorite lotion. "I hope you two are teammates for a long time, too." You whisper, rubbing between his shoulders, feeling the tension get released. "I'm sure everything will work out," Oscar nods, "Can we take a nap," Right on queue, Mr. Orange appears, meowing softly and rubbing his head at Oscar's ankles. "Of course," Oscar lifts you up, carrying you with ease, as you two walk down the small steps into the open space and fall onto the fluffy bed. 

Oscar and you giggle, letting the sun glow softly on your skin, leaving soft kisses and words as you two sleep. 

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Lando wanted to scream and rip his driver's room apart. He'd felt anger before, but this rage was unexplainable. It was hot, burning liquid in his throat. Something inside him was clawing at his throat. He knew it was something evil, and he was terrified. His driver's room door was closed, locked to protect anyone from him. 

A knock at the door rigidifies his body, and the knock is soft again. "Lando, are you okay?" Lando covers his mouth, feeling that darkness in him claw his way out. Oscar's sweet voice makes him whimper, and he hates that he made a sound; Oscar could hear it. "Lando, are you okay?" Oscar's voice sounds slightly panicky, his door handle wobbling under the pressure of Oscar's grip. 

"Oscar, go away," The jingling stops, feet walk away, and Lando whimpers, feeling the bile in his throat. Fuck, he had used his powers on Oscar. Lando hated this feeling; when his emotions got out of control, he felt something clawing at him, ripping him from the inside out. And he couldn't run away, couldn't leave. He needed to be here for the team. 

The door handle wobbles again, Lando curling in on himself, stopping himself from yelling. To prevent the darkness in him from escaping, the door creaks, and suddenly, it's open. "Mon cheri," the velvet French calms his heart, mewling practically as two more bodies fill the room, the door closing. Shhhh, it's okay. Deep breaths, Carlos, come here." Lando doesn't open his eyes, instantly feeling the warmth. 

Gasping out, Lando sobs, burying himself into the warm chest of Carlos. Carlos whispers soft Spanish in his ear, Charles murmuring in French. Something cold touches his skin, causing him to hiss before the familiar hand on his neck. "You're okay, Lando, we've got you," Max whispers, crouching beside Charles. Lando slowly peels his eyes open, burning as he stares at Max. Max's blue eyes mirror, smiling softly; Lando blinks, feeling this calmness wash over him. 

"You're using your powers," Lando whispers, his ugliness dying. Max's hand is slightly warm but comforting. "I am; you seemed to be struggling with... this." Max chooses his words carefully. Charles rests his head on Max's shoulder, smiling gently. "Hey, there," Charles whispers, running fingers through Lando's sweaty curls. "I'm here," Carlos whispers, pulling away, but Lando chases after him and clings to Carlos. "Don't leave," Lando's voice so vulnerable and raw that Carlos can't help but growl softly, "I'm not leaving you," Carlos whispers, tightening his grip. 

"How," Lando takes a deep breath, his chest shaking as he feels his anxiety comes down. "How'd you know?" Lando whispers, hiding his face in Carlos's neck, loving the smell of his cologne. "Oscar was pacing outside; he seemed distressed, and we were talking. He knows we're close, and that's how we knew," Max whispers, sitting down properly, Charles moving to curl into Max. "I'm sorry, you shouldn't have to be here with me. Charles, you had a bad race, too." Lando whispers, hand grabbing Charles's free hand and holding it close. 

"Eh, typical Ferrari, but nothing like yours." Lando cringes, Max and Charles giving him a pity smile. "Should've DNF'd would've hurt worse." Carlos chuckles and pulls Lando off the couch and into his lap so he can curl up with the others. "I used my powers on Oscar. I didn't mean to," He whispers, disgusted with himself. The first race, and he's already fucked up. "Lando, it's okay. You were under a lot of stress; everyone has a flare-up." Max tries to comfort him, but Lando shakes his head. 

"This isn't like calming or angering someone by accident, Max," Lando spits, feeling angry that they think what he did was okay. "I can make people do whatever I say; it's unnatural." Lando looks down, picking at the skin around his nails. "Lando," Carlos growls, grabbing his friend by the hands and making him face him. "It's not unnatural; you're a siren, and their voices are powerful. That's not a bad thing. You just got worked up, and that's fine. You think I haven't lost control, Charles or Max haven't? It happens, and it'll happen again. You can only control how you react to it, which will make the difference." Carlos presses a soft kiss to Lando's temple. 

"I know; maybe I should return to therapy or buy those special mouthguards. "No," All three growl. It was a mouth guard given out by the FIA for any supernatural they deemed dangerous. It was a barbaric practice that Sebastian and Lewis had fought for years. Meant for wolves, vampires, and anything else the FIA didn't like, it was another way to control the drivers. "You buy one, and I swear to god, I'll call your mother." Lando cringes at that threat, knowing that Cisca would rip the world. 

"But," "No," Charles's accent thick, his gorgeous hazel eyes a dark red. "Lando, we don't care if you use your voice on us; it happens; I mean shit, I feed off Carlos sometimes," "What?" Max growls, "Nothing, babe, anyways, we're family, and sometimes we have to use our gifts on each other. Besides, you've never caused harm." Charles tries to comfort him, and Lando sighs, moving and welcoming him into Charles and Max's arms. "I know, but," A large hand covers Lando's mouth, and warm chocolate eyes stare into Lando's sea-green eyes.

"Lando, no buts; if we didn't love or feel safe around you, we wouldn't be here, but we're here. We'll always be here," Carlos whispers, bumping his forehead against Lando's. "Lando!" The men all stiffen, hearing Andrea's voice. "We have the video to film. Is everything okay?" Lando takes a deep breath; pine, sweat, lavender, champagne, and damp earth fill Lando's nose, the smell of his family. "Yeah! Be out in a second!" Lando calls, sounding his usual self. Carlos smiles, placing a soft kiss on Lando's cheek. 

"I miss those eyes of yours," He whispers and hugs Lando close, who relishes in Carlos's warmth. Lando craves to be warm. 

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Oscar can't help but pace back and forth, trying to rack his brain about why he just left Lando like that. Even though he was outside surrounded by different smells, the smell of fear, anger, and disgust still lingers in his nose. He no longer wears his race suit, just his black shorts and signature orange shirt. Hissing, Oscar looks down, seeing his finger torn to shreds. He had been biting the loose skin, trying to calm himself. 

He couldn't understand why Lando was so upset, which drove him. He was so close to breaking the door down that Lando spoke; a sweet taste was in his mouth as he walked away. Now, his head just felt heavy, and his mouth was dry. "What's up," Oscar spins, almost headbutting Lando, who was smiling like nothing happened. It did nothing to calm Oscar's nerves. "Lando," Oscar reaches out, but Lando pulls back, fixing his curls, placing his hat on top, and smirking. "We've got a video to film, and say how I finished last and to trust the process." Lando skips slightly, heading up the stairs. 

"You didn't finish last," Lando stops, turning around and looking at Oscar. "What?" Oscar clears his throat, looking away as he rubs the back of his neck. "You didn't finish last, I did." Cocking his head to the side, Oscar tries hard to keep himself together. Lando looks like a baby owl in his mind when he does that. "I DNF'd first; technically, I finished last." Lando snickers, covering his mouth before it escapes, and it turns into a huge body laugh. 

Oscar freezes. Hearing Lando laugh flustered him; something in him wanted to hear Lando's laugh more than anything in the world. His lips quirk up, turning into a full-blown smile. "Yeah," Lando catches a breath and gives him a gorgeous smile, lighting up Oscar's face. Yeah, you're right." Lando turns around, walking up the stairs, but Oscar stays still, Lando's laugh ringing in his ears, perfect little bells. 

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"Can I meet him, pleaseeee," Oscar sighs as you lay on his massage table, giving him puppy eyes and a lovely view of your cleavage. "Y/n, can you let me get dressed before you're hounding me about my teammate," You groan and flip around, buttoning up your lilac shirt. "We're in Australia, and I still haven't met him; it's literally 3 hours before the race; it's like you're trying to keep him away from me," Pouting, Oscar tries hard not to take you again to the table. 

"I'm not keeping him from you, maybe lessening the blow." You mock gasp and sit up fast. Oscar Jack Piastri, how dare you! Are you saying I'm too much?" Oscar settles you with a deadpan look and snorts. "You two together is like an atomic bomb. You'll create chaos." You giggle, knowing it is very accurate. "Nope, I'm not buying it." Truth be told, Oscar was nervous about the two of you meeting. Lando and he had grown close, slightly, but he still had trouble wondering why he craved to hear Lando laugh or smile at him. 

"Welp, don't care," You smack him lightly, and he giggles, squishing your cheeks between his hands, kissing you gently, and then giving you small pecks. Your hands on his waist squeeze as you relish in Oscar's warmth. "You're always so warm," You sigh, burying your head in his chest, Oscar smiles, feeling this tingling feeling in his stomach. "I love you,"

You open your eyes, smiling as you place a kiss right over his heart. Oscar rarely spoke those three words, but you felt like you could breathe when he did. "I love you, and you'll do amazing. And even if you don't, Australia loves and supports you." Oscar smiles, thumbs brushing over your cheeks as he kisses you. "Come on, let me introduce you to Lando." Squealing, you jump up and rush out the door, Oscar's hearty laugh following you. 

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Lando stares at the screen, talking to Will and Jon, pointing at the screens and telling them what he needs fixed or set before the race. He notices movement in the corner of his eye but shrugs it off, directing his attention back to the screen. "Wow, you really are pretty," Lando jumps, turning to see a girl staring at him. "Um, thank you, strange girl," Lando steps back, Oscar rounds the corner, and Lando almost waves him off. Still, when Oscar's eyes land on you, he sees such a softness that he wishes Oscar was looking at him like that. 

"Y/n," You turn and smile, returning to staring at Lando. "I like the beard. It suits you. Your baby face makes you look too much like a baby," Lando blinks as Oscar approaches you, touching your shoulder blades. Lando follows his hand as Oscar slides it down your back to your ass before placing it back on your waist. Oscar looks up and smiles at Lando. Lando looks away quickly. "Thanks, I like my beard too," You smile and move closer to Lando. 

"Woah, I love your eyes," Lando's eyes widened, ripping away eye contact, and he felt panic and bile rising to his throat. He couldn't do that to you, not Oscar's girlfriend. "Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to make you nervous," You mumble, stepping back into Oscar's space. "No!" Lando yells, causing some mechanics to look over. He laughs nervously, fidgeting with his race suit. "You didn't make me nervous; I just got anxious when people looked directly into my eyes." You nod, thinking everything over. "Okay, then I won't do that. I'm Y/n, Y/n L/N." You stick your hand out, smiling so brightly. 

"Lando, Lando Norris." "I know," You giggle; Lando blushes and pulls his hand back, rocking on his heels. "She's been wanting to meet you, and finally, she can, which means she'll stop bugging me." Oscar jokes, bouncing his hip against yours. "You've been wanting to meet me?" Something in how he says it has you and Oscar staring at him. He said it in awe that he couldn't believe someone wanted to meet him. "Well, Oscar talks about you a lot, and I've been a fan since you joined F2. Why wouldn't I want to meet you?" Lando is shocked, closing his mouth. 

"Oh, I don't know," You smile and loop your arms together. Lando smiles, enjoying the way you are so relaxed with him. "Oscar, show us around," Oscar stares at the two of you, blinking slowly as he takes in the fact he very much liked the way you two looked together. He was in trouble. 

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

"Stop, I can't," you giggle, trying your best not to choke on your drink. Lando is red in the face, laughing so hard that Oscar growls in embarrassment. "Carlos just doesn't like him, and so Carlos, like, growled, and Oscar turned around and made this little kitten sound." Lando gasps out, which sends you into a new round of laughter. "He caught me off guard!" Oscar tries his best to defend himself e, but it's useless. 

"Guess you've been hanging around Mr. Orange too much," you wheeze out. Oscar reaches over and pinches your side, which makes you yelp and move closer to Lando. "Landooo," you whine and wrap your arms around Lando's neck. "Oscar is bullying me," Oscar rumbles lowly and shakes his head as the food is brought out. 

Lando blushes, feeling how you hold him, before pulling back and sitting in your chair. "I'm really proud of you two. It was a good race, and I avoided the crash. Made me worry," You suck the straw into your mouth and stare at the food on your plate. Lando smiles softly, pushing his caesar salad around. "We did good, and I got points at the home race. Feels good." Oscar smiles, and you lean forward, stealing a kiss before biting. 

"I'm worried," Lando admits, shoving a fork full into his mouth. "Worried about what?" Your voice is muffled as Oscar shakes his head at you, talking with a mouth full. "That the car won't be good, that the upgrades won't work, the fact we have to wait till Austria, and even then, we might not have all of them." Lando spills, Oscar looks down, understanding, but you just shrug your shoulders. "So?" The two boys look up at you, shocked. 

"Who cares? Your fans love you, and they'll support you no matter what. You have faith in your team, right?" Lando nods his head, as does Oscar, which makes your smile grow. "Then you have nothing to worry about. McLaren is a good team. They wouldn't have put you in this position if they didn't think you could." Lando smiles, his eyes soft as you take a hug bite, which has Oscar snicker. "You're eating like a werewolf," Shrugging your shoulders, you swallow before smiling. "Well, you wore me out last night and this morning," you tease. Lando looks away, and Oscar kisses you deeply. "I did," He hums, and you nod, look over at Lando, and quickly sit back. 

"Shit, sorry, Lando," You blush, but Oscar just smirks as Lando nods his head. "It's okay, I've been there," "With Carlos?" You didn't mean to ask, quickly covering your mouth. "Oh, god, I'm so sorry, I shouldn't have asked." Waving your hands, Lando chuckles and stops you. "Carlos is like my older brother; he's just very touchy," Lando gets this soft smile on his face, and Oscar can't help but feel something rear its ugly head in his chest. 

"Carlos, he was protective of me for certain reasons. He got worse after Daniel," Lando whispers, and you remember reading about how Lando and Daniel didn't get along in the beginning. "Daniel and I didn't end on good terms, but we're slowly getting there." Oscar stops, trying to understand why Lando looks so hurt. "Hey, some friends go through issues, but it makes the friendship stronger between you two; Oscar and I broke up once," Oscar's head whips to the side, and he feels his wolf cry slightly at the painful memory. 

He was gone a lot, more than needed, Oscar was refusing to explain, and you had enough. Oscar can still remember the hurt he felt when you said you two were done; he threw himself into racing. He worried Mark so much that he called you and asked you to talk to Oscar; he wasn't doing well. "Oscar and I worked it out, and we're more vital than ever. We need the pain to remind us that we're happy." Lando smiles, "Thank you," You giggle and kick his leg. 

"No more mopping. We need Oscar to show us around Melbourne," Oscar groans, throwing his head back. Baby, I told you we have a flight in the morning. We're going back to the hotel." You pout, and Lando decides to join in. Oscar tries to look away but groans loudly. "Okay! Okay, fine, we'll go out, but just no clubs," he begs, looking at Lando for that. "I'm chill with that!" Oscar nods and waves the waiter over. "I'll pay," Lando insists, but Oscar waves him off. "Hey, I should pay, besides my treat," Lando rolls his eyes, but they both stop when the waiter leaves. They turn to look at you, but you just giggle and sip on your drink. 

"You two were having a dick-measuring contest and decided to pay," Oscar snorts and leans in, stealing a kiss. "We both know who'd win that contest," Lando snorts and shakes his head, trying not to think about his teammates, cock. You giggle, a slight blush coating your cheeks, which has Lando thinking about how pretty you look with that blush on your cheeks and hating it wasn't him putting that blush on your cheeks. 

"So, what do you say?" Lando blinks fast as Oscar looks at him, waiting for an answer. I'm sorry, what?" He can't help but fidget with the pinkie ring, something you and Oscar notice he plays with often. We asked if you wanted to come to an old hang-out spot," Lando blinks, thinking it over. He wants to say yes, but he also knows that if he went, he might do something stupid. 

"No, um, I should probably go back to the hotel. Thank you for dinner," Lando stands, legs shaking, and awkwardly pats Oscar's shoulder. And thank you for paying, um yeah, see ya'll." Lando quickly rushes out, Oscar following his movements and then looking at you. "What the hell was that?" Shrugging your shoulders, you just think how cute and blushy Lando gets. "He's cute. Can we keep him?" 

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

"You're dumb," Lando glares at Charles, ignoring that he is naked with visible love bites that go farther than Lando wanted to know, and Max's hair is wild with lips bruised and swollen. "Shut up," He squeaks, as Charles leans back, rolling his eyes, Max squeezing his boyfriend's thigh, "Charlie, be nice," Max whispers, and Lando envies that. 

Over the years, Lando watched Max turn from this hurt and angry person to one who was now soft and only showed his true love to those close to him. Really, he only showed this side to Lando and Charles, but Max was different from Charles; it was this different, and Lando hated it; he wanted someone to be like that to him. Charles loved Max, faults and all; he thought Max was the Moon to his Sun. 

"What, I'm not going to be nice. He's being dumb," Charles pouts, looking out of the window as Max just chuckles softly, "Lando, you can't just suddenly catch feelings for someone you just met, let alone someone who is dating your teammate," Max is gentle with his words, but yet firm and Lando whines collapsing on the bed. "She's....she's so pretty, I couldn't help staring, and every time Oscar got to hold her, kiss her, make her smile and blush, I felt...jealous," He whispers, burying it in a pillow. 

Charles sighs, running his fingers through the curls he loved playing with when they cuddled. Max smiled at the two of them, Charles mildly annoyed, but Lando was a dear friend, and he'd never turn him awake; Carlos liked to call them a...pack. He didn't know what it meant, but Max explained it was a werewolf term for family, and it made Charles smile. 

"Do you want me to get Carlos?" Max whispers, and Lando cuddles closer to Charles, "No, he's with Rebecca. They're on a date," Charles coos. Let's move Lando closer before the boy stops and quickly backs up. "Clothes," He squeaks; Max chuckles as Charles glares and moves faster than light, coming back wearing underwear and an oversized t-shirt that hangs off his body. "Better?" As they move and curl together, Lando nods, Max moving around to ensure they have everything in reach. 

"Charles, did you ever....hate being a vampire?" Charles grows quiet, thinking over the question. "Yes," He whispers, pain rippling through Max's face, but he hides it, looking at the room service menu. "Really? Why?" Lando always wished he was a vampire, even a werewolf, and thought it'd be easier. "Lando, everyone I loved, I've outlived; I wasn't born a vampire; I was turned, unwilling; it was.....horrible. Being turned, it's like acid as your blood, and then just silence. My family, I watched them all pass away, and for a while, I was alone, but I'm not, not anymore." Lando makes a face, seeing the love between his two friends, but he's glad Charles shouldn't be alone. 

"Can I stay here? I don't want to be alone," Max puts the menu down, hugging Lando and nodding. "You can stay here however long you want," 

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

"Fuck!" Lando slammed the helmet into his driver's room, breathing heavily as the Miami heat got to him. His skin was dry, and he was uncomfortable; the dry humid had been pinching at him with each guess, the team trying their best to keep him hydrated. "Lando, here," Jon shoves a water bottle in his face, Lando slapping it away, eyes shimmering. 

"Okay, okay, I'm going to make an ice bath, okay," Jon whispers, knowing Lando was tittering on the edge, his powers starting to form little knives. Lando gasps, nodding his head as Jon slips out. Lando growls, trying to remove his fireproofs, but can't the proofs becoming a second skin, and it was starting to make him antsy. "Lando, you okay in here?" Lando freezes, hearing Oscar's worried tone, "Lando? I'm coming in," 

Lando doesn't even fight; he's just drenched in sweat and looking on the brink of passing out. "Lando," Oscar whispers, shocked as he trips over his feet and rushes towards his teammate. Oscar, help, hot," Lando gasps, tugging sluggishly at his fireproof. Okay, okay, hang on," Oscar kneels, gently pushing Lando down, and his fingers burn Lando's skin, making him whine. 

"Sorry, werewolf thing," Oscar jokes, but Lando is too exhausted to do anything. Oscar moves carefully and gently, pulling the fireproof off, hissing at the heat rolling off Lando's skin and how sickly grey he almost looks. "Lando, what do you need?" Jon bolts into the room and stares wide-eyed at Oscar but quickly removes the fireproof. Help him into the ice bath. Come on." Oscar quickly shoulders Lando's weight, and Lando whines at the heat Oscar is putting off but can't shrug him away as they drag him to the ice bath. 

"Help him in," Jon groans. They lift Lando into the tub and watch as some color comes back to his skin; his eyes are no longer dull or lifeless. "Lando, Lando, you okay?" Oscar whispers, his chest tight with worry, almost feeling sick. "He'll be alright, just he didn't stay hydrated enough," Jon tries to excuse, but Oscar whips around, growling lowly. "This isn't simple dehydration. This was more. What the hell," "Oscar, it's none of your business," Oscar whips around to see Andrea and Zak staring at him. 

"None of my," Oscar stops, feeling that anger claw at his throat before taking a deep breath and nodding his head, casting a look over his shoulder; he feels that protectiveness calm in his chest, seeing Lando looking more alert but still drowsy. "Just tell me when he's okay," Oscar whispers, moving past the team and to his driver's room, where you lay on the little couch, curled up, asleep. 

Leaning against the door, Oscar takes deep breaths, trying to understand what just happened. "Osc, what's wrong?" His eyes move over you, and he smiles gently, but it's useless. You can tell something is wrong. "Did something happen to Lando?" Pushing his body off, the weight of everything comes crashing down, putting together the puzzle pieces. 

"What do you know about Sirens?" 

[l1tw1ck]

dean winchester consumes my mind LAWDDD I beg for anything with that man, surviving off of scraps looking for more top male reader x dean 🤕

- 🛸

No Longer a Mentor

Sub!Bottom Dean Winchester x Top!Male Reader

☆ Word Count: 1,512 ☆

After spending his young adult years with you, his mentor, more than his father, Dean found himself falling for you. He eventually made a move and forever changed the dynamic of your relationship

🕯️: well luckily for u, i just finished this draft :3

CW: Age Gap, First Time Bottoming, Blowjob, Fingering, Frottage (Sort Of), Creampie

Dean’s known you for a couple years, you're a friend of his dad’s and a fellow hunter. You became his mentor in place of his father, who often hunted on his own and left Dean in your care. You liked to stay in your state since the area was basically a supernatural magnet while his father preferred to travel the country so he chose you to finally allow Dean to stay in one place for more than a week. If you were anybody else, Dean would've been annoyed that his dad didn't take him along despite his age and experience. Instead of going to college, Dean spent those years learning to hunt with his father and mostly you. Thanks to all the time you spend with each other, his allegiance to you is almost stronger than his allegiance to his father. He hangs on your every word and treats you like a god. It's thanks to you that he finally accepted his bisexuality. But he doesn't want to tell you that.

He first started feeling differently towards you when you started to become more physical with him. You often hold onto his shoulder with your strong hand or pull him out of the way by his waist and it drives him crazy. He so desperately wants to feel your hands on other parts of his body and vice versa. Your voice makes him weak in the knees and you sound especially attractive when you've found your prey. You're much older than him but he can't get rid of his feelings for you. He tries his best to be content with just having a crush.

After you two had dinner, you decided to drink with him. The two of you laughed and talked over a few cans of beer and deepened your relationship further.

“You ever been in a relationship, [Name]?” Dean asks, slightly tipsy.

“A few. I mostly slept around in my college years and experimented a bit with other hunters but in the end I decided to marry my job instead.”

“Why?”

“I wanted to marry someone I could tell everything to so I tried dating within my circle but none of the hunters seemed to click with me in the ways that really matter.”

“That makes sense…then you probably haven't…” He trails off.

“I probably haven't what?”

“Had sex…lately……”

You laugh. “No, I haven't. Honestly, I think getting laid would really help me. It's been a rough couple weeks.”

“I…” Dean gulps. “I could help with that….if you don't mind…….being with a guy..”

You look at him in surprise. “You're drunk.”

“I’ve only had two cans and a half…You know I don't get drunk that fast.”

You look at him differently, no longer with the eyes of a mentor. “You’ll bottom?”

Dean nods.

You smile in amusement. “I might be a little rough, can you handle that?”

He nods again, more enthusiastically this time.

“Come here.” You motion for him to come over to your side of the table. He stands in front of you. “Kneel.” You order. Dean immediately kneels, his cock steadily growing in size. You unbuckle your belt and pull down your underwear. Dean stares at your cock in awe, body heating up as he watches you jerk it to its true size.

“Fuck. You’re big.” He breathes out.

“Too big?”

“I can handle it.” He says, licking his lips.

“Attaboy.” You run your hands through his hair. Dean blushes. “Ever done this before?”

“Never..” His eyes are trained on your length.

“Is this your first time with a man?”

“Yeah…”

Your gaze changes. Dean shivers in arousal. “How long have you wanted this?”

“A long time…I’ve been…fingering myself, in case we….” He looks away.

You grin, turned on by the thought of that. “You'll have to show me that some day.”

Dean’s face gets redder.

“Now, let me see how you suck cock.”

He's so hard right now. He opens his mouth and slowly swallows your length. He makes a dragged out moan in pleasure as he feels your thickness enter him. Pre cum leaks out of his cock as he imagines how it’ll feel in his ass. He bobs his head up and down enthusiastically, mimicking his past girlfriends by simultaneously swirling his tongue around your shaft.

“Fuck–” You moan. “That's it– good boy.”

Words can't express how happy Dean gets when you praise him.

“You're better at this than I expected, baby.” You smile at his cuteness. He can't hide how pleased he is. “You like sucking dick, don't you? I never thought you’d be a cock slut, Dean.”

He moans. He’ll happily be your cock slut. He pulls away and licks your length in a very sexy way, gaining more confidence thanks to his elevated horniess. “I love your cock, sir.”

“Of course, you’re my cock slut.” You press your hand against his cheek. “Stand up and take your clothes off, I wanna use your other hole.”

Dean’s cock throbs even more. He stands up and quickly removes his clothes, shivering under your hungry and lustful gaze. You pat your lap and he quickly sits on top of you, your shafts pressed against each other.

You grope his ass. “I don’t have any lube..” You trail off, mesmerized by his soft butt.

“I already fingered myself earlier.” He smiles.

“Good boy.” You praise him. “Then spit’ll be enough. Say ‘ah’.” You bring two fingers into Dean’s mouth. He sucks on your fingers in the sluttiest way he can before you take them out and gently push one of your saliva covered fingers inside his soft hole. You give him a moment before adding the second, then you start to finger him.

Dean lets out the prettiest moan you’ve ever heard. “[Name]~” He arches his back and subconsciously thrusts his hips, his cock rubbing against yours. “Your- yours feel so- fuck~” He groans. “So much better!”

You moan as well thanks to the sudden friction. You bring him into a sloppy kiss, the temperature between the two of you steadily rising. Dean pulls away first, more desperate for air, and presses his forehead against your shoulder. “Don't stop– mm- gonna come~” He whimpers. Your fingers find his prostate, an immediate gasp of pleasure leaving Dean’s lips. He throws his head back. “There! Yes!” He moans, grinding against your cock even faster. The combination of his moans, his expression, and his cock against yours all contribute to bringing you to closer your orgasm.

Dean comes first, cum splattering over the two of you. Yours comes second thanks to the amazing look on Dean’s face.

“You're so fucking sexy, Dean, you know that?” You take your fingers out and knead his ass.

“I know.” He gives you a kiss. “I want you inside me.”

You lift Dean up and slowly lower him down on your cock. You both let out noises of pleasure as you penetrate him. He bites down on his lip, thoroughly enjoying the feeling of his ass stretching to accommodate your girth. Once you bottom out, you give him time to get used to it. “Your cunt feels fucking amazing.” You groan. It's hard to hold yourself back but thankfully for you, Dean has no intention of waiting any longer. He places his hands on your shoulders and starts riding you. He quickly loses his momentum as the pleasure begins to overwhelm him. You help him out by grabbing his waist and doing the work for him, allowing Dean to fully enjoy himself.

He knew anal sex would feel good, especially because it's anal sex with you, but he never really had an idea of how good it’d feel until now. Now he's completely blissed out and only able to moan like a slut. It's especially thanks to your quick and rough speed that he's unable to think properly. You couldn't get yourself to go slower even if you tried. His ass just feels way too good.

“Your ass is perfect, Dean–” You groan. “So fucking good-” You hold him and stand up then gently place him on the table after clearing it of the empty cans. You rut into him like a monster, so horny that you feel like you could fuck him all night. You can never get enough of him.

Dean arches his back and shakes as ropes of cum spurt out of his dick. You know you should stop, or at least slow down, but you can't. “‘M sorry baby, fuck–” You moan, hanging your head low as you find your orgasm approaching. “‘M gonna come inside, okay? Gonna fill up your tight fucking cunt with my seed–”

Dean’s conscious enough to understand you. “Ye- yes!” He grins. He's been wanting to know what it feels like to get creampied. “Co- come inside!”

Encouraged by his words, you spill your cum into his warm and welcoming hole. Your thrusts come to a stop and the two of you start to catch your breaths.

“That…was so fucking good.” Dean says, leaning back.

[wlntrsldler]

poisoned mercury | bad reputation

ii. bad reputation by joan jett & the blackhearts 

a/n: andddd we're at chb! reader is mean to luke lol. vaping, smoking, mentions of addiction. crumbs of clarisse x chris!

series masterlist | previous | next

“kid, you really need to look at the bright side,” your dad said, taking a sip of his diet coke. “you get to summer in montauk for free. no paying rent, no worrying about what to eat, the world is your oyster.” 

“i don’t understand why i have to spend the entire summer here,” you glared at him, close to ripping your hair out. 

“you’re smarter than that,” he replied, placing his can down on his table. he kicked back in his chair, letting his sandal-covered feet prop up on his desk. his aloha shirt wrinkled as he placed his arms crossed behind his head. he was taking his camp manager role too seriously. “you got put on probation by your field hockey coach.” 

your eyes narrowed, “and?” 

“... for punching a teammate.” 

“who deserved it!” you argued, huffing as you sat on the seat across from him. if there wasn’t a desk separating you from your dad, you were sure you would’ve strangled him with the camp necklace around his neck. “i promised you i’d be on my best behavior, but no. you decided that i needed to be glued to camp all summer.” 

“listen,” he leaned over on his desk, “the girl probably deserved it, but you still got kicked out from summer conditioning, kid– from the top field hockey team in the country! not everyone gets to attend unc but you did and you fucked that opportunity, so until you can prove to me that you have your shit together, you’re stuck in montauk.” 

“gods, you’re ridiculous!” you howled, getting up from your seat. “i hate you.” 

“love you!” he called out, chuckling to himself. you got your dramatic flair from him so he couldn’t fault you too much for your reaction. he probably would’ve reacted way worse if he was in your position. 

“yeah, yeah,” you yelled back, already out of his office. “love ya, too.” 

you walked out into the campgrounds, still huffing and puffing at your interaction with your dad. groups of children and teenagers were checking in for the summer. it amazed you how popular camp half blood became over the years. your dad wanted to create a summer camp for aspiring musicians and creatives to meet others and learn from professionals. he already had the network for it given that he used to be a hot-shot producer in the mid-nineties until he fell into his addiction. 

your dad never talked much about those dark moments in his life, and not many people knew about it, but he was happy to tell you about what came after it; meeting your mom, falling in love, and having you. his sobriety became his top priority when you were born, after you and your mom, of course. camp half blood started out as a dream your dad had when you were still a child, unsure of what you were passionate about, and he hoped you’d fall in love with music the same way he did. right before you turned four, he opened camp half blood. he said he wanted to have the place up and running and established by the time you were old enough to join. but alas, when you turned six and still had no musical or creative bone in your body, your dad’s hopes of having a musical protégé as a daughter were shattered. 

he bounced back from it though when he saw how passionate you were about field hockey. the second you picked up a stick, he saw your eyes brighten and he knew it was lights out from then on. he attended all of your games, bought you the best gear for the sport, and supported you in any way he could. you were thankful for that, for him, but you also knew that he probably would’ve preferred a kid he could talk music with. you saw it when he bragged about the new artists he signed to olympus records or when he talked about the kids at camp half blood. 

you took a sharp right turn at the corner of the dining hall, making a beeline to the secret spot by the lake that you stumbled across when you were fourteen. it was the place you retreated to whenever you and your dad fought while you were at camp. fights and arguments between you two happened often. your mom said it was because you were too similar for your own good. it was true. you and your dad were both stubborn, hot-headed, and unable to accept when you were wrong, but it also meant that you and your dad understood each other on a level that not many father-daughter duos did. 

even though you refused to tell him–or anyone for that matter– why the altercation with your teammate happened, your dad was on your side. he always was. 

you sat on the worn out bench, years of weather damage evident on the wood, taking out your cherry ice vape from your pocket. it was a vice you picked up in college. you weren’t proud of it, and it definitely started affecting your ability to play, but the stress of being a student-athlete, plus all the commotion with your probation started to get to you. 

you stared out into the view, appreciating the way the trees framed the lake in a picturesque way. camp half blood was beautiful; nature everywhere, there was utter silence except for the sound of water and birds chirping when you got far enough away from the noise and chatter of the campers, and the weather in the summer months was perfect. you let the smoke escape your lips, watching as the cloud dissipated into the air. 

“oh, my bad. i didn’t realize someone would be out here.” 

you turned around to see a boy, an unlit cigarette hanging from the corner of his lips. he wore a black, tight-fitting t-shirt and gray sweatpants. there was a silver chain hanging around his neck with a pendant tucked underneath his shirt. his tussled curls peeked under his backwards yankees cap. 

“spot’s taken,” you said, facing the view once more. you took a deep breath, sliding your vape in the pocket of the hoodie you wore. “go somewhere else.” 

“that thing’s gonna kill you, y’know.” either the boy didn’t hear you or he didn’t care enough to listen because he slid on the bench next to you, taking out a lighter for his cigarette. he closed his eyes, letting the nicotine into his system, “that has like chemicals and shit.” 

you scoffed, “like your cig is any better.” 

“i know what i’m putting in my body,” he shrugged. he motioned aimlessly in your direction, “you don’t know what’s in there. it hasn’t been around long enough for us to know the long term effects.” 

“‘m not planning to be doing this long term.”

“sure,” he smiled at you, unconvinced. “i’m luke.” 

you stared at his outstretched hand, shaking your head, “i’m not interested.” 

“i was just trying to be polite.” 

“if you want to be polite, find another spot to smoke.” 

luke eyed you, undeterred by your hostility. he leaned back on the bench, taking another puff, “nah, i’m good right here.” 

you took out your vape again knowing that you’ll need it to get through this conversation. the two of you sat in silence as you both smoked, letting the smell of the cigarette mix in with the artificial cherry scent. you tried your best to ignore the boy beside you, but it was hard to when he was so close to you. the bench seemed much larger when you were fourteen, when you were alone as its only occupier. 

“so five star, tough day?” 

“what did you call me?” 

“five star,” luke nodded to your hoodie, flicking off the ashes on his cigarette. “your unc field hockey hoodie? like five star recruit.” 

you looked down at your sweater, completely forgetting that you were wearing your team merchandise. you tugged on the collar awkwardly, suddenly feeling like you were exposed. “oh.” 

“so, tough day?” 

you glared at him, “what makes you say that?” 

“well, for starters, it’s the first day of camp and you’re by yourself away from where all the fun shit is happening, smoking a fucking– what is that? strawberry?”

“cherry ice,” you corrected. 

“cherry ice vape,” luke continued, “and you’re biting my head off for trying to start a conversation.” 

“maybe i’m having a bad day because a boy disrupted my me-time and decided to start a fucking conversation when i obviously want to be alone.” 

luke chuckled, pointing to the cigarette between his fingers, “relax, i’ll get out of your hair after this one.” 

“don’t make it a habit.” 

“what? smoking?” he asked, a boyish smile on his face. “already a habit of mine.” 

“interupting my me-time,” you replied, blowing out rings with the smoke in your mouth. “i don’t care what you do to your body.” 

“should we exchange numbers and coordinate when we’ll be using the spot?” 

you rolled your eyes at the teasing tone of his voice. this guy just doesn’t quit, “no, because you won’t be coming back here.” 

“i dunno,” luke looked out into the lake, a soft smile on his face. “i like it here. it’s pretty.” 

“i was here first.” you weren’t backing down. this was your spot. your secret spot, at that. not many campers ventured this far out into the woods, too afraid to get caught by their counselors and get in trouble, or too scared to get lost in the maze of trees. 

“sharing is caring, y’know,” his tone was playful.

you looked at him, no emotion on your features. you studied his face, furrowing your eyebrows like you were trying to place him. he looked familiar like you’d seen his face before. his eyes were big and brown, innocent looking compared to the smirk on his lips. a scar ran down the side of his face, subtle, but noticeable if you looked hard enough. it was slightly discolored compared to the rest of his face. his jaw sharp and cheekbones defined, with beginnings of a summer blush dusted across the bridge of his nose and the high points of his face. behind his ear, a small tattoo of the number “4” was hidden under his curls. his ears were pierced, two, small diamond studs on each earlobe. 

you’d seen him before, but you just couldn’t remember where and when for the life of you. 

you blinked, “i don’t like to share.” 

he threw the butt of his cigarette on the floor, gently stomping out the remnants of it with the tip of his converse convered feet, “noted.” 

you watched as he got up, keeping his promise of leaving you alone after one cigarette. the smirk on his face remained as he turned to face you before he left, “see you around, five star.” 

you made an noncommittal noise, not missing the sound of a deep rumble from his chest as he laughed at your dismissal. you watched him disappear into the trees, noting how his back flexed under his tight shirt as he cleared a path to avoid ducking under stray branches. 

you waited around twenty minutes before getting up to leave. you didn’t want to risk running into luke again, just in case he got lost on his way back. you were not going to lead him back to the safety of camp. if he got lost after trying to take over your spot, then so be it. that wasn’t your problem. 

as you entered the main campgrounds, you saw clarisse, a teammate of yours, who also got put on probation for coming to your defense, leaning against a tree trunk by the registration table. she needed a summer job and housing since she wasn’t allowed to come to practices and live on campus during her probation period, and you were quick to recommend her to your dad to be a camp counselor for the summer. thankfully, your dad was kind enough to say yes. at least you wouldn’t be alone all summer. 

you walked over to her, smiling kindly at the young kids you ran into on the way, excited out of their minds to be away from home for the next few months. “what’s up, la rue?” 

she smacked your arm, “why didn’t you tell me?” 

“ow,” you winced, clutching your upper arm. the girl was strong. there were many moments where you were thankful that you played for the same team. you did not want to be the poor girl who stood in clarisse’s way when she was in the zone. “tell you what?” 

“poisoned mercury!” she hissed, crossing her arms over her chest, “why didn’t you tell me they were gonna be here this summer?” 

“oh,” you rolled your eyes, “i didn’t think it was a big deal.” 

“not everyone grew up around celebrities, y/n,” clarisse reminded you, shaking her head. “sometimes, i forget that you did. you don’t talk about it as much as i would if i grew up like you.” 

“yeah, well, it’s not all glitz and glamor, to be honest.” 

you thought about your last relationship– a boy from california that you met during one of your dad’s work trips. it was a whirlwind summer romance that ended in a lot of heartbreak and a promise to yourself that you would never, ever date another musician again. your dad did try to warn you about him, subtly, of course, since he knew better than to butt into a teenage girl’s relationship. the boy had been begging your dad for a record deal for ages and he thought that by dating you, he’d get one step closer to his goal. your dad dangled the possibility of a record deal in front of him like a carrot, his own personal entertainment since he saw right through the boy, and ended up blacklisting him from the industry after he broke your heart. 

a little extreme? sure, but it wasn’t like he was that talented anyway. you still cringe when you remember his terrible rendition of “grenade” by bruno mars. 

“do you know when they get here?” clarisse asked, snapping you out of your thoughts. 

“i dunno, don’t care,” you shrugged, “when did you become such a huge fan?” 

“since i saw how hot their bassist is,” she laughed, a twinkle of mischief in her eyes. “seriously, y/n, chris rodriguez is fine.” 

“enough, there are kids around,” you shoved her playfully, laughing as you motioned for her to follow you into the cabin you were staying in. “i didn’t know they were gonna be here, actually.” 

“your dad didn’t tell you?” 

“i’ve been on a strict ‘no talking, unless it’s yelling’ rule with my dad the past few months,” you explained, entering your room and closing the door behind you. your bags were messily thrown across the floor, bed unmade, and walls empty. you didn’t get around to decorating and putting things in their place before you gave your dad a piece of your mind. “and i refused to accept that i would be staying here all summer.” 

“it’s not that bad so far,” she moved your training bag from your bed, sitting on it, “the kids are adorable little music nerds. i don’t think they’ll cause too much trouble.” 

“for your sake, ares cabin head counselor, i really hope they don’t,” you teased, beginning to put your things away. “i’m not worried about the kids, actually. it’s more of the people our age that i’m worried about. musicians can be such dicks.” 

“true,” she agreed, “do you remember the kid who acted like he was hot shit when he performed at the fall concert at unc?” 

“yes!” you let out a belly laugh, “the one who shamelessly flirted with lena?”

clarisse nodded, falling on your bed in a fit of laughter, “then ran away when he saw charlie.” 

“i mean charlie is a scary-looking dude,” you commented, taking off your hoodie and stuffing it into one of the drawers. you fixed the camp half blood shirt you wore under it, “big ass linebacker.” 

“but the biggest teddy bear.” 

“the biggest,” you grinned, thinking about your friends back on campus. you already missed them and your crazy, late-night adventures in your college town. you and clarisse met charlie the summer before your freshman year at unc during athlete orientation. he shyly asked if he could sit next to you and clarisse in the back row, not wanting to block the view for people behind him if he were to sit in the front. he was a timid guy for someone who could probably bulldoze you and clarisse without breaking a sweat. 

he introduced you to his girlfriend, silena, when the school year started, and the four of you became inseparable ever since. you were glad you found a friend group in college, one that you could trust and depend on. 

“and this is the cabin where you all will be staying.” 

you looked back at clarisse, eyes widening as you heard your dad’s voice in the living room of the cabin. he didn’t tell you that someone other than clarisse was going to be staying in the cabin with you. 

“there are six rooms in total. one master and five others. there are three bathrooms. one’s in the master and the other two are out here. this is the living room and the small kitchen is down the hall,” he continued to explain, “my daughter has dibs on the master bedroom, though, so tough luck for you guys.” 

“i didn’t know you had a daughter, mr. d.” it was a boy’s voice.

“yeah, i do, y/n,” your dad said. you can practically hear the smile in his voice. “she doesn’t like the limelight so i don’t bring her up too much. i’ll introduce you guys to her when i see her.” 

“chris, put that down!” another voice. this time it was a woman. she sounded older, and tired, like she’d said that phrase a million times before. “sorry about them, mr. d. they may all be of age, but i swear it still feels like they’re kids.” 

your dad laughed, “trust me, i get it, may. my little girl is turning 19 soon, but she’d give her 12-year-old self a run for her money.” 

“i call this room!” 

“travis, you can’t just call dibs on rooms when the rest of us haven’t gotten a chance to take a look around.” 

“you snooze, you lose, rodriguez.” 

clarisse jolted from your bed, jaw hanging as she put the puzzle pieces together. she pointed at the door, whispering, “is that poisoned mercury?” 

your dad was in the middle of a conversation with the woman, may, when you opened your bedroom door to investigate. he was nodding along to what she was saying, taking mental notes of her words. you walked towards them, giving may a polite smile when she noticed you coming their way. 

“speak of the devil,” your dad clapped his hands, placing a hand on your back to guide you into the conversation. “may, this is my daughter, y/n. y/n, this is may castellan, poisoned mercury’s manager.” 

you held out your hand, “nice to meet you.” 

“oh god, a teenager with manners,” she exhaled, immediately accepting your handshake, “pleasure to meet you.” 

“you know we can still hear you, right, mama c?” a boy with curly hair peeked his head out from the room beside clarisse’s. he was wearing a white tank top, his tanned skin adorned with patchwork tattoos on full display. he had a pearl necklace around his neck, a charm of the band’s logo resting between his collarbones. he had a wide smile as if he wore his emotions proudly on his face. “these walls are thin.” 

“you were supposed to hear me, chris,” she replied, rolling her eyes jokingly. 

you tilted your head, analyzing the boy. you understood what clarisse meant. he wasn’t your type, but he was definitely hers. she always did like the golden retriever type. you raised your arm, giving him a small wave, “hey, i’m y/n.” 

“it’s the famous y/n!” you turned around at the sound of your name to see a boy with dark hair and a vintage iron maiden shirt on. he was leaning against his doorframe, toned arms flexed as he stuffed his hands in his front pockets. “travis.” 

another boy, looking eerily similar to travis popped his head out his door at the sounds of introductions. you cocked an eyebrow, “are you guys tw–”

the boy shook his head, stating “no we’re not,” at the same time as travis nodded, “yes we are.” 

you looked at may for help. she shook her head, throwing a pointed look at travis, “they are not. travis is older than connor by a year.” 

“which one of you fuckers stole my charger?” 

you froze in your spot. you knew that voice. your mind started connecting the dots then– luke castellan, lead singer of poisoned mercury. you’d seen pictures of him on your twitter timeline from both your friends from college and from home. he seemed to be the topic of conversation every week because there was a new thing to write about. his wild rockstar adventures were a crowd favorite. 

you once heard that he had a pet monkey that he bought with his first check from their album sales, but tmz reported it so it wasn’t the most reliable source. the last article you saw about luke was titled “leaving a trail of broken hearts: luke castellan’s extensive dating history and how they ended.” typical. 

“oh, luke, i want you to meet my daughter,” your dad beamed, none the wiser. he placed his hands on your shoulders, twisting your body to face the boy. 

you pursed your lips, biting the inside of your cheek. so much for him getting lost.

“five star, nice to see you again,” luke’s eyes lit up, the corner of his lips quirking up in a smile, “looks like we’re roommates.”

[buckets-and-trees]

Desperate [Bucky x Reader]

Fandom: MCU Title: Desperate Characters/Pairings: Bucky Barnes x female!Reader Word Count: 3k 

Summary: Enemies? Rivals? It's always been reluctant teamwork between you and the Winter Soldier, but when put in a situation where personal feelings have to be put aside, maybe actual personal feelings are uncovered.

Content Warnings: kidnapping, sex pollen ergo DUBIOUS CONSENT, sexual situations (named acts, non-explicit depictions of vaginal sex), medical elements (needles, IVs, experience of medical distress)

Thank You Notes: BIGGEST SHOUT OUTS to @sgt-seabass who beta loved this into what it is and @vonalyn who helped supply me with some of the vital energy I needed. This was SUPPOSED to be an answer to this little sleepover ask @povlvr had graced me with... but then it became this! Logistical Notes: Filling my eleventh square for Bucky Barnes Bingo @buckybarnesbingo - Y2 "Reluctant Teamwork" and @buckybarnesevents Hot Bucky Summer Week 9 which is technically a "FREE WEEK" but had sex pollen listed as one of the suggested things to play with, so... that's why we're here now.

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You were an old SHIELD contact that Steve knew before Project Insight. He didn't know you well then, but you had crossed paths a few times. You were an analyst sometimes assigned to Steve's missions. You went to work for the CIA after the Triskellion takedown, where you stayed for a couple of years, before eventually moving into the private sector.

When Steve, Nat, Sam, and Wanda were outlaws on the run, they bumped into you again, and you became an ally and valuable contact in your new area of the country - and ultimately a friend. And trusted enough that you knew about Bucky - and Bucky heard about you.

Bucky didn't love that you were an element in Steve's life. He hadn't met you, hadn't been able to get his own read on you. 

He'd been wary initially about Nat, Sam, and Wanda, but he'd been able to meet them and build his own trust - and they'd all ultimately put their lives and reputations on the line for him. 

It wasn't that he was distrustful of everyone anymore and needed people to put their lives on the line to prove themselves. Those who had sided with Steve over Tony in the Zemo affair aside, he'd also learned to trust others again in Wakanda with so many of the royal family and the royal guard building relationships with him. 

But with you he didn’t know you, and so he didn't like it.

What Bucky loathed even more? 

You didn't blip out. For five years, you were there for Steve when he couldn't be. You were apparently there so much that when Steve left, he fucking said to watch out for you. The punk.

Bucky didn’t know Steve dropped in on you, too, and asked you to keep an eye out for Bucky the day he gave Sam the shield. You promised you would.

You reached out. Not immediately, but in the weeks after.

Bucky was... less than kind.

Frankly, he was surly, ungrateful, short, and rude. 

Pieces were moving and with Bucky's reappearance in the United States, the question of his future was an immediate concern. Public and government representatives were demanding trials, pardons, and all the rest.

You told him you had found an excellent contact for a lawyer.

"No, thanks, I can find my own," the words were polite, but the tone was clipped, flat, low - almost a growl. 

Being so abruptly shut down, you decided to cut the phone call first and on your terms, so you wished him luck - managing to be more polite than him, making it sound genuine - and hung up.

You called Matt Murdock yourself, and told him about Bucky's case.

You did it only because of your promise to Steve.

And a little bit because you knew you were fucking right and that Bucky needed your lawyer contact. 

Matt chuckled, told you he knew about stubbornness, and that he'd go about approaching the Winter Soldier diplomatically and professionally.

Matt pulled off the best possible pardon deal, even if not everything about it was ideal.

When Pepper decided to get back into some of the Avenger support again - after the Flag Smashers business - so she could provide some more trustworthy resources for Sam and Bucky and the old crowd, you were one of the people she ended up scouting and recruiting to come work on the direct home support team with research and tactical support. Sometimes you went into the field with the team, but usually you stayed at home base and relayed with the agents over comms. 

This was not because you weren't outstanding, but because it was clear the less time you and Bucky spent in proximity to each other, the less awkward it was for everyone else on the team. You were both professional enough to keep the animosity out of things during a mission over comms, and that was about it. 

Otherwise, it was silent treatment and resentment.

Neither of you extended the woes of your dislike for each other actively to anyone else on the team, keeping your mouths shut about your feelings, and engaging in only occasional and minimal eye-rolling when either of you was mentioned. Bucky made a point of giving you electrolyte-enhanced waters first whenever you did go into the field on a mission with them, as if you were a toddler who couldn’t take care of yourself. 

Sitting by you at a holiday dinner at Sam’s you almost thought there was a moment of thaw between you and the Winter Soldier, but you didn’t push the almost comfortable silence between you to anything more - knowing it had been long-established he only tolerated you. It was clearly only a temporary pause, meaning very little as Bucky continued to push for you not being put into the field with them. You didn’t need to be around his close scrutiny. He made getting over any initial crush you might have had on him very easy. 

Things were fine like that for a little over a year. 

And then you were abducted on your way back from a mission outside of Paris where you had been part of the local ground team, taken and smuggled out of the airport. It was not HYDRA this time, just leftover cretins who blipped away but now were back, stirring up their own operation which hoped to double down on being even more nefarious. They were interested in testing some of their new methods and resources while also trying to extract some sensitive information.

Why not kill two birds with one stone by snatching up a well-connected and informed analyst at the heart of the neo-Avengers operation?

They recovered files from debunked HYDRA facilities (hard drives were wiped, but motivated hackers knew how to dig beneath what had been wiped to recover remnants - in hindsight, SHIELD should have taken the tech to a secure location) and developed an even more concentrated and powerful form of sex pollen. They were interested in how it would be absorbed in both the aerosol and liquid forms they had developed. Why not try out both forms on you? 

The aerosol was potent enough, but not in a way that would break you for their line of inquiries.

So, they injected it right into your veins.

Compounding with what had already been ingested into your system, everything intensified, and you - much more quickly than they anticipated - moved past what may have been a state where they could've coaxed the information they wanted out of you. 

Quickly you progressed to the point where you were consumed by this toxin, your body raging and desperate for the physical activity that will get you to a sexual release and flush the toxin from your system. You were keening and moaning and crying, covered in sweat, straining painfully against your bonds, unable to focus on anything anyone said to you. 

You were incoherent and not far from feral. 

Having gone beyond the point you could be giving them intelligence, you were still useful to provide information as the test subject, and they kept you on it through an IV drip to see the limits of what an average female body could take before it was completely broken.

You had absolutely no sense of how long this went on, only that you were not even crying tears anymore, just dry sobbing and wailing, because everything in your throat, and in your veins, and in your chest, and in your vagina burned. 

It was an agony you'd never experienced in your life. 

You vaguely registered a cacophony of sound around you, but it was like it was coming to you through a long dark tunnel, distorted and distant, and you couldn’t open your eyes to see what is going on, not that you could even think to or were capable of caring about anything other than the desperate purgatory you were enduring until you finally passed out.

Bucky and Sam were nearly back to base ops in New York from the Paris mission when the news of your abduction came through, and they turned around immediately. Teams working at home and in Paris - and Bucky in the air while Sam piloted - narrowed your likely whereabouts down to two locations: somewhere near Versailles (because of course evil operations are drawn to the ideas of opulence) or a compound outside of Brussels. 

Time already against them, Sam and Bucky made the tough decision that they needed to split up so they could investigate both options as quickly as humanly possible. Sam dropped Bucky at the well-equipped safe house less than an hour away from the suspected Versailles compound and then headed to Brussels.

After arming himself to the teeth as quickly as he could, Bucky fired up the Ducati in the garage of the safehouse that had been equipped with a noise dampener by your tech engineers, punched in his navigational coordinates, and pushed to top speeds to get to there, stashing the bike half a kilometer away so he could make the rest of the approach in complete stealth.

The operation was much smaller than he anticipated, but because of its size it was almost immediately apparent to Bucky that this was where they had you, and he was also confident he would be able to drop this operation and get to you without as much trouble as he expected.

But in no way could he have predicted the state he would find you in.

He heard your agonizing cries and keening within moments of entering the facility, and he'd already dropped four agents at that point, but the excruciating pain he heard from you was its own form of torture in itself. 

He picked up the pace, tearing ruthlessly through everyone else that came between him and you.

He got the full view of the condition you were in only moments before you passed out. He quickly undid all the bindings and removed everything they had attached to monitor your vitals. He unhooked the IV drip but had the presence of mind to take the bag for testing later. It was inelegant, but he hefted you over his shoulder, and everyone else still conscious who got in his way of getting you out was incapacitated with a single kill shot.

It was close to midnight when he reached the safe house and carefully tucked you into one of the beds. He pulled a secure laptop and some of the base medical testing equipment into the bedroom and kept watch over your catatonic form while he started running tests on the substance you’d been hooked up to and sent the base data for his samples to the bioengineering team back at HQ.

Over the next hour your body experienced a few fits of violent shaking, but you didn’t rouse until almost 2am. When you did, it was with great heaving gasps, and your arms flailed, your hands grasping at the sheets, at your clothes, and then at Bucky when he appeared almost immediately at your side trying to soothe you. He had a theory he hoped wasn’t true – that he knew what was running through your veins – but it was confirmed when you clutched and pawed desperately at him. Then your eyes met his, there was a recognition but coupled with devastating desperation, and you started babbling his name and pleading, “Bucky, please, Bucky. Need. Bucky, help. Bucky, Bucky, Bucky.”

He’d been in distress over you since he first heard your tortured cries hours before, and he knew you needed him.

He wouldn’t deny you. 

He knew the anguish of being a slave within one’s own mind. 

He worked both of you out of your clothes quickly, and then laid you back on the bed and crawled above you. “I gothcu, shh, I know what you need.” You cried, but with a glimmer of relief, when he sunk into your desperately wet cunt. He thrust diligently into you while you clung to his shoulders and wrapped your legs around his waist. 

The first orgasm was quick, and provided a glorious wave of relief that helped, but it was not enough. 

Not even close.

For nearly two hours he let you use him, pulling him into you, riding him, kneeling under him on all fours while he wrapped an arm around your waist and took you from behind. 

It was relentless fucking until you hit the point of being utterly depleted – mercifully coinciding with when the chemicals seemed to have finally been flushed from your system with enough of the endorphins released into your bloodstream from the numberless orgasms. 

If anyone but a super soldier had found you, Bucky genuinely worried they may not have been enough to help. Seeing you at the utter extreme of limits, in dangerous territory, had shaken something inside him he wasn’t prepared to discover. There had been no question in his mind that he had to get you through it. 

He smoothed your hair off your face and let your body gently sink back into the mattress, then got up and went to the bathroom, returning with a warm washcloth. He wiped your brow first, and you sighed in relief, eyes already closed in bone-tired weariness. Bucky gently wiped the sweat from your neck, continued moving down your body, and then with a second warm cloth he’d also brought, he gently wiped away the mess of slick that had seeped down your thighs. He carefully redressed your exhausted form, sliding you back into your discarded underwear and his t-shirt that was close enough to scoop up from the floor, and tucked you into the covers. You were asleep before he had finished taking care of you.

As you rested, he continued his vigilant watch from before. You stirred an hour or so later. It was still dark, but with almost a hint that sunrise would be creeping to the edges of the windows soon. He moved to your side again, this time with water, which he pressed to your lips, helping you to set up so you could drink. You began to gulp it down, but slowed when he tried to soothe you and urged you to slow your intake.

When you were nearly done downing the glass, your eyes opened briefly, but catching Bucky’s wary gaze on you, you shut them again. Not before Bucky saw the flash of anguish, however. You scooted away and turned your back, pulling your knees up and burying your head in your arms.

Bucky wanted to reach out and touch you, but settled for softly uttering your name, trying to coax you to look at him.

You refused, consumed with shame and horror.

Your throat was thick with a different kind of agony. 

That episode of pain and innate need had ended, but this? 

This was a new hell you would have to endure. 

“Bucky, I’m sorry, and I know I owe you my life and probably all of my sanity, but please, please go. Please leave me be and don’t put me through the humiliation right now of being here only because you were resigned to helping me despite hating me. I’ll have to bear that forever, but please, just… please at least leave me to myself until we get out of here.”

He was silent for a moment.

“Fuck, I don’t hate you – I never truly hated you,” he said. It was quiet, but perfectly audible in the silence of the pre-dawn.

You raised your head tentatively.

He took a deep breath and continued. “I only kept it up to save face since I drove you to despise me and was too proud to turn it around.”

You were truly overwhelmed. You wanted to say something but had no idea how to respond to that admission, especially when you were already wrung out to the very edges of your emotional state.

“I’ve respected you for a long time now.” Bucky broke the silence.

“You have?”

“Probably more than respected you, if I’m being honest.”

You were still exhausted despite having slept for the past few hours, but you pushed your mind to think… you started to reconsider the thaw from hostility to civility, that he argued with you in group settings less, how everything had become less grudging. But you knew you’d put up your own protective walls to shield you from his scrutiny because it had hurt too much to have been spurned by him when you’d reached out to try and forge that relationship with him after Steve left initially. 

And so much of tonight had been a feverish haze, but you had small pieces that were stained into your memory, some of which were him and things you couldn’t categorize as the actions of anything less than someone who cared. 

“How do you feel about me?” you ventured. 

The two of you looked into each other’s eyes for a few long moments.

“I don’t know that I can explain it all yet – I don’t think I know the words for it, but… let me show you? No chemicals, just us, see what’s really here?” He reached out a tentative hand to cover one of yours.

You nodded.

You let him move in.

You let him kiss you.

You let him lay you down beneath him again, and this time you sunk into each other. 

You cried again, but this time from the immense emotion. You could feel it rolling off of him and pouring into you, a balm starting to fill in the anguished pieces of your soul. Your spent bodies pushed through any tiredness and desperately moved together again, relentlessly motivated this time to slake the emotional hunger growing between you. Touches that explored, that carved into memory, that expressed. 

This time when you were both only finished by exhaustion, you curled into each other and slept, feeling the beginnings of solace and true peace, a turning of the tide, and maybe the acknowledgement that emotions that had run so deeply between you two were only felt so strongly because you truly valued the other even from the beginning.

READ THE FOLLOW UP DRABBLE: UNCERTAIN AND SURE

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[thestuffedalligator]

There had always been a goblin and an orc at the sides of the Overlord.

Once upon a time, it probably had a symbolic meaning. Over the centuries it had dwindled to a way for orcs to offload embarrassing family members, while goblins sent prisoners who probably wouldn't bite too much.

At the sides of the Overlord, they were decorative and invisible.

The only one who saw them was the magician.

At first, she had thought of them as a convenient way to have a pair of eyes and ears in the Overlord's presence at all times. Then one day, after the Overlord had ordered his whole chamber out while he ruminated, there had been a very convenient death.

Then she planned on blackmailing them.

It was a delicious thought. In the dead of night she slunk through the castle halls with the deliberate slowness of a spider enjoying every tantalizing wriggle of a panicking fly.

She got to the iron doors of the Overlord's chamber and was about to spring the trap when she heard the orc say, "How is this bloody country still running?!"

The goblin said, "Look, it's not that important, we have to go."

"Look at this." There was a rustle of paper. "They've been paying the giants thousands of gold pieces a year for them to make war machines that they haven't been making!"

"So what?"

"So, if instead of paying them, we took that money-" There was furious scribbling. "And put it in an interest-earning savings account... for twelve months..."

Paper was slid across a table.

There was a long pause.

"Huh," said the goblin.

"That's," said the orc. "Roads. Bridges. Actual infrastructure in the empire. We could really do something here!"

"We were going to!" said the goblin. "We were going to get out of here!"

"Look. I'm good at numbers. You're good at words. We can run tomorrow, but we have a once in a lifetime chance here."

There was a longer pause.

"Okay," said the goblin. "Okay. But as soon as someone even thinks they've found us out-"

"Oh, the second that happens, we're gone."

"Good. All right. How many roads?"

The magician blinked.

Huh, she thought.

It's not a good look to slink where you've just slunk. She slunk nevertheless in a thoughtful mood.

---

The next day, she brought a long scroll to the attention of the Overlord.

Other members of the chamber had learned to recognize it by sight. They groaned and braced for the inevitable.

She pointedly ignored them. "A thousand apologies, O Master Of Midnight And Bane Of The Dawn," she said. "But I felt I must once again bring this proposal to your attention."

She put the scroll into the Overlord's huge, gauntleted hands. "It is, of course, my proposal for infrastructure reforms within the Empire," she said. "A nation as mighty as thine must have roads, my lord."

The Overlord looked at her. The Overlord read it. The magician winced as the goblin obviously craned to read it as well, lips moving silently.

The Overlord looked at the goblin. The goblin looked at the Overlord.

The Overlord waved a hand. The goblin bowed. "His Magnificent Presence, The Overlord, Accepts Your Proposal," she recited. "By The Will Of The Overlord, May This Work Be Done, And May You Continue To Make Such Useful Contributions To Your Empire."

Yeah, don't lay it on too thick, the magician thought.

---

The next week, around a corner where she thought nobody could see her, the orc pulled off the Overlord's helmet, shaking out long coils of dark hair that curled and tangled against the breastplate of the armor.

The magician stared.

Huh, she thought, more emphatically this time.

---

The next month, the duke came to her and said it was obvious that the Overlord had been replaced by an imposter.

She let him rave for a few minutes about the affront to the dignity of the Empire, sighed, stood, thanked him for bringing it to her attention, and waved a hand. There was a rush of air, a wooden clatter, and then a sad little mechanical squeaking noise as her new office chair swiveled where the duke had stood.

[bridenore]

HD Being on the run fic recs

Here are a few Harry/Draco recs where Harry and Draco are on the run. Listed in alphabetical order, as always.

9 ½ Days by @magpiefngrl [69k]

After the events at the Manor, Harry and Draco find themselves stranded in the countryside with a broken wand and Death Eaters on their tail. This is the story of an uneasy truce, featuring faerie forests, seaside caves, Romani camps, kind old ladies, and a shared bed in an attic. Or how two boys fell in love in the midst of a bloody coup.

Crown Witness by @slytherco [70k]

After the war, wizarding society is oppressed by a new kind of plague—an organised crime group calling itself the Family. When Harry Potter goes to interrogate a potential witness, he doesn’t expect to end up on the run again, trying to keep Draco Malfoy alive, while a manhunt follows in their footsteps, adamant on eliminating the one witness that could ruin everything. In which Harry and Draco learn that the way to each other might just have to go through the dingiest hotels in Britain.

Eclipse by Mijan [287k]

"You're dead, Potter... I'm going to make you pay..." Draco swore his revenge on Harry for Lucius's imprisonment, and Harry all but laughed at him. But Draco is planning more than schoolyard pranks this time. The old rivalry turns deadly when Draco abducts Harry for Voldemort. It's the perfect plan, guaranteeing revenge, power, and prestige, all in one blow. But when Draco's world turns upside down, the fight to save himself and Harry begins, and the battle will take them both through hell and back. If they come back.

Hermione Granger's Hogwarts Crammer for Delinquents on the Run by @waspabi [93k]

'You're a wizard, Harry' is easier to hear from a half-giant when you're eleven, rather than from some kids on a tube platform when you're seventeen and late for work.

Oh, Sinnerman by @lou-isfake and @babooshkart [40k]

“I’m serious, Potter,” Malfoy said quietly. “That was some real bad luck you had, being there last night. They will come after you, and they will kill you—after torturing you for information on my whereabouts.” He pocketed Harry’s wand, but held on to his knife, twirling it between his fingers. Harry was distracted by its movement, the reflections of the bright, dawning sun on polished silver. “I’m not happy about it, either, but you’re stuck with me for the foreseeable future.”   He watched Malfoy’s face for a long time, in a staring contest he wasn’t sure he’d signed up for. Stuck with Malfoy, for the foreseeable future, on the run from a massive crime syndicate that had infiltrated the Ministry and was out for their blood. It was all very familiar, except for the Malfoy part.

REVOLVEVLOVER by @firethesound and @lol-zeitgeistic [88k]

The work Harry does is justifiable. It’s justice. He works for his country, and his country is a republic—the magical side, anyway. It’s not laudable work, it’s not work he’s proud of, but it’s necessary work. Harry has always taken the necessary jobs that no one else has the stomach for. It’s just that he’s never deciphered a kill sheet and seen Draco Malfoy’s name on it.

A Sword Laid Aside by @korlaena [128k]

When Draco’s cover is blown during a deep undercover operation and the Ministry is compromised, Ron takes Draco to the only safe place he can think of—Harry. Hiding out with Harry Potter, who has been missing from the Wizarding World for almost two decades after a shocking fall from grace, is nothing like Draco thought it would be.

I hope you enjoy these stories as much as I did!

[bedsyandco]

𝐒𝐂𝐎𝐓𝐓 𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐄𝐄𝐓

✰ PAIRING — fem!reader x quinn hughes

✰ SUMMARY — in which Quinn returns home to Michigan for christmas and runs into his old girlfriend! this takes place christmas ‘23!!

✰ CONTENT — nothing I can think of? potential spelling mistakes bc no matter how much I check I still find them days later

✰ WC — 2.54K

✰ NOTE — inspired by phoebe bridgers’ scott street!! as always I love writing Quinny and I hope you enjoy it!! I don’t like this but … here we are. please do tell me what you thought about it…I’m always curious what you guys think!!

Michagan has always been special. No matter where life took you, returning to Michigan and visiting the city you grew up in, always felt like coming home. Even three years after graduating from university and moving away, nothing compared to the feeling of driving the streets where you had your first fall and scraped your knee open, the streets where you learned to drive for the first time, the park where you had your first kiss. Michigan will always be special and it will always be home but coming back always leaves you with the biggest ache in your chest.

There’s a reason you haven’t been back to Ann Arbor since you graduated. This place held too many memories. Too many “what ifs” or “what could’ve beens” It was like one big memory box, every corner you turned reminded you of something, someone. And while usually you weren’t opposed to taking a stroll down memory lane and being reminiscent about past years, somehow it always led to one year, one summer, one moment, one person. Quinn Hughes.

You met him your freshman year at Michigan, both of you in the same class. You were late to class the first day, uncharacteristic of you and a result of a missed alarm that morning, and you got stuck sitting in the only open seat left, the one next to Quinn. You’re sure it would have been sat in earlier if it wasn’t for the bag he put on it. You still get the urge to laugh when you remember the expression on his face when you approached that very seat. As if he was actually considering having you sit on the floor just so he didn’t have to share his space. Knowing everything you do now, you had no doubt that he had a mental image of Ellen scolding him for his bad manners and that’s the only reason he scrambled to accommodate you.

Somehow as luck would have it you were partnered up for a big project and spent a lot of time together. And Quinn Hughes went from a reluctant seat partner to your closest friend, to the man who you were hopelessly in love with and was lucky enough to call your own. The next two years you had been glued to his side and wherever he went, everyone knew you weren’t far behind.

Perhaps that’s why everyone had a shock when you didn’t follow him to Vancouver when he left after two years. You had many nights that summer where you had debated it, the decision to move to a new country for a guy you had been dating for less than two years. The fact that you even considered it at all should have already been an indication of how much you loved him. But when he did eventually ask if you’d do it, you knew that you couldn’t and turned him down. You had dreams and goals and plans of your own and none of those consisted of moving to Vancouver.

The idea of moving to a new country, in the middle of your degree, where you didn’t know anything or anyone didn’t particularly sound like a joyful experience, no matter how much you loved Quinn. But you also didn’t expect the two years after Quinn left to be as hard as they were. Somehow you had gotten so wrapped up in your relationship that every aspect of your life revolved around him. Where you hung out, who you were friends with, what routes you drive to school. You felt alone when he left, you felt isolated, you felt misunderstood. Because the only way you fit into that life you had built for yourself was if Quinn was next to you, and he wasn’t anymore.

Quinn made it big and moved on to bigger and better things and you were just the girl he left behind that was stupid enough to turn him down when he begged you to go with him. And so the last two years of what was supposed to be the best years of your life turned into one big pity party thrown by everyone you met. People who once envied you for getting to be with him, now pitied you for losing out on him.

You’d only been with him two years and yet he destroyed the memories of the place you called home for the 18 years prior to that. And it wasn’t those last two years and the pitying looks that ruined Michigan for you, it was the fact that they were right. The fact that you still thought about him and those two years you got to have him. The fact that you’ve compared every guy you’ve met and been with to him and none of them have ever measured up. The fact that staying in Michigan only resulted in awkward social situations, a piece of paper stating your degree that you could’ve gotten at any institute, and regrets. Lots of regrets. The fact that every time you come to Michigan, it’s all that you can think about. It haunts you.

And because you like to torture yourself, this year on your annual visit home, you somehow ended up at his favourite cafe. You had spent more time here than anywhere else when you were dating. It was the place you had your first study session, your first date, your first “I love you”, and also your last goodbye.

As fate would have it your first time seeing him since you guys broke up would also be at this café, because as you entered the relatively empty room, it’s as if your whole body could sense him, your eyes shooting to where he was sitting in the corner of the room, a coffee and a bagel in front of him, folding the napkin in front of him as many times as he could until is was small enough to push in between the salt and pepper that was on the table.

You always wondered what it would be like to see him again. What your response would be to those fight, flight or freeze instincts. You briefly considered it…fleeing. But as soon as you laid your eyes on him, you couldn’t do anything but stare. Observe. Admire. You always knew Quinn was going to be handsome once he matured a little bit. Got out of the teen-early adult phase. And while you had seen him on social media occasionally, seeing him over a screen didn’t do him any justice. Nor did it have the same effect on you it’s currently having. Your heart felt like it was going to burst out of your chest and walk over to Quinn. As if it recognized that it was the same guy that cherished, loved and swore to protect it all those years ago.

When his gaze shoots up to meet yours, that pounding in your chest ceases completely, leaving you to put your palm over your heart, just to ensure that it was still beating, and to soothe the ache that seeing those green eyes unexpectedly caused. The ache only worsens when his lips tip up into a friendly, familiar smile. His head tilting slightly as he sits back, as if he was beckoning you over and before you had even registered what was happening, your feet began moving in his direction.

“Hey,” you say softly when you reach his table and his lips quirk, obviously amused that after all this time that’s how you decide to greet him.

“Hey. Sit please,” Quinn says, gesturing to the chair across from him and you take a seat

“Didn’t expect to see you here. What are the odds…” you say. It was a few days before Christmas, and you knew that the Canucks had a few days off before then so maybe you shouldn’t be as surprised that Quinn decided to come home early for a few days. You paid a little too much attention to the Canadian team than you would like to admit.

“Yeah, it’s an unexpected surprise for sure. A good one though. I came home for Christmas for a few days, decided to stop by here. I haven’t been here in a while,” Quinn says and you nod.

“Well how are you? How are things? Hockey? The family?” you ask, rambling a bit and Quinn chuckles fondly, he knew it was a nervous habit of yours.

“I’m good. Really good. Hockey is good. The team’s heading in the right direction, better than last season that’s for sure. The family is good. Busier than ever but all happy and healthy,” Quinn replies

“That’s good. Yeah I can imagine. Jack’s breaking records left and right and it’s Lukey’s rookie season. And you’re captain now. Big things happening in the Hughes family,” you say and Quinn nods. If he’s surprised that you know that much about him and his brother’s careers he doesn’t let it show. You briefly wonder if he kept tabs on you too. Wondered what you were doing with your life. Career. Dating.

You then come to the conclusion that he’d probably have a harder time trying to figure out details of your life since it isn’t broadcasted like his are. You were snapped out of your thoughts when the server asks you your order and your cheeks tint a little when you realise you walked through the door and straight over to Quinn without even placing an order. To the server it probably looked like you were meeting him for lunch, so some of the embarrassment fades a little and after you place your order, you turn your attention back to Quinn.

“Congratulations on being named captain by the way. It’s a huge achievement Quinn, and I don’t think it’s any surprise that Vancouver is having the year they’re having after naming you captain,” you say and his cheeks redden slightly, fingers tightening against the coffee cup.

“Thank you. I mean there’s a lot of things going into it. The coaching change, the new additions to the team, new playing structures, I don’t think it’s me necessarily…” Quinn says, smiling sheepishly when he sees the expression on your face. He was never good at taking compliments.

“What about you? I heard you opened your own marketing agency? That’s huge, congratulations.” Quinn says and you can’t keep the smile from spreading across your face

“Thank you. And you heard? From who?” you ask teasingly

“Your mom and my mom still talk. She always asks about you, and reports back to me. I still talk to your brother too so…” Quinn trails off and you gape at him

“You still talk to my brother?” you ask incredulously

“Yeah, not often but we catch up every now and then,” he says and you don’t know if you find it sweet that he still kept in contact with your little brother who looked up to him so much or if you felt a little bitter that he could keep in touch with your brother but not you. If only you knew that most of their conversations were about you anyway.

“What about Josh? Brady? You keep in contact with them right…how are they?” you ask and Quinn smiles. Josh was at Michigan with both of you and you and him still followed each other on social media. You guys were friends, you just understandably drifted a little when you and Quinn broke up. You met Brady one summer at the lake house and you had instantly taken a liking to him.

“Josh is good. See him all the time when I come home in the summer. Brady got married. That’s still so weird to say,” Quinn says with a shake of his head and you laugh.

“I saw! Who would’ve thought he’d be the first one to get married. He looks really happy though. Good for him,” you say and both you and Quinn go quiet for a moment after that. There was a time everyone had thought the two of you would be the first ones to get married. You wonder if Quinn’s mind wandered to the same place yours did. To those 2AM conversations you had about your future, what type of house you want, a dog, how many kids. Your relationship with Quinn had always progressed fast, and you had no doubt that if you did follow him to Vancouver, you would have ended up engaged a summer or two after, and probably got married by now. Your heart stings thinking about it.

Thinking about how if you made one or two choices differently you could’ve been married to the man sitting across from you. You could have kissed his bruises after a game, nursed his injuries instead of checking for updates on when he was set to return because you were worried and too scared to reach out and ask him how he was doing. You could have been there to celebrate his milestones with him instead of slyly liking the posts on social media and hoping he would see it and know how proud you were of him. You could have had a lot of things…in another life. If you had done things differently.

Your thoughts get interrupted by the server placing your cup of coffee on the table and you take that as an opportunity to escape. There was no use in sitting here and torturing yourself by daydreaming about all the things you could’ve done differently. You couldn’t change them. You just had to move on and live with them.

“I should get going. This was a pit stop on the way to meeting a friend, and I’m running a bit late. It was nice seeing you, Quinn. Don’t be a stranger,” you say, standing up and grabbing your coffee, knowing this was likely the last time you were going to see him in who knows how long? Another five years? Maybe forever…

“Yeah, you too. Happy holidays and tell your parents I say hi,” Quinn says and you nod, grabbing your cup and practically sprinting out of the café

When you get to your car, you take a moment to collect yourself, clenching the steering wheel tight and taking a shaky breath. You hesitate for a moment before switching on the car and driving away from the cafe. Away from him. And the more distance gets put between you and him, the more you wonder about the next time you return to Michigan. And the time after that. You wonder if you’ll always have a heavy heart when coming home. If you’ll always have a hole in your heart that Quinn used to occupy. If you’ll always think about all the things you wish you could go back and change. Things you wish you could do differently.

And you wonder if this exchange will be the little cherry on top of the “regretting my life choices” cake. If you’ll come back next Christmas and think about how you just had a chance to fix all the mistakes you made. Had a chance to reconnect with the one you let slip away. Had a chance to rectify all those regrets that always plague your mind and you just…didn't.

[redheadspark]

Fifth Floor Prt. 1

A/N - I wrote this out and it ended up being SO long! Part two will come soon enough, and that HAS the SMUT in it!

Summary - You and Oliver reunited after the Battle of Hogwarts, and old flames are rekindled again

Warnings - Just some fluff and angst in this part, Part Two is found here

"Alright, make a perch right here,"

Madam Promfrey helped place you on one of the old Great Hall benches, at least the one that wasn't destroyed and still standing.  You groaned a bit, your head throbbing from a wound that was inflicted on the top of your forehead, your energy dropping by the minute and your adrenaline was no longer evident.  The rest of the students and teachers around you were in no better shape either, trying to mend their wounds and unwind from all the chaos that happened within the last several hours.  Not to mention the bodies that were being moved and placed in a secluded area on the other side of the Great Hall.   It was heartbreaking to see, both Death Eater and those in the Order.  They were all the same: lifeless.  But it was worse since some of those bodies were of the students.

You both felt lucky and cursed to be alive.

Coming back to your old school Ala Mater, you wanted it to be more of a blissful reunion and not a bitter one.  But you were called back too, thanks to the enchanted Galleon you were given. The world was already turned upside down when You-Know-Who took over the Ministry of Magic, his followers running around all over Europe to capture half-blooded and muggle-borns, the safety of the medical world was now critical.  You even had to go into hiding since you were a half-born witch, your mother being a witch and your father a muggle.  Luckily, they both were out of the country on Holiday over in America visiting family when the Ministry Fell, and you can get in contact with them to stay across the Pacific until further notice.  

With your parents safe and out of harm's way, you were not focusing on yourself and going into hiding at your cramped little flat.  It was a bit hard, thinking that when you would go to sleep you would be awakened by a Death Eater leering over your little bed with a wand at your throat. Plenty of people were disappearing in the night.  You were glad to have escaped a few close calls, seeing Death Eaters going among the streets in packs and causing chaos for no random reason.  

Thankfully, you learned a thing or two when it came to blending in and staying under the radar.  You kept your eyes on your neighbors, especially the older couple that had no one else to turn to.  Thankfully, they were not a target to any Death Eaters or even the Ministry of Magic.  They would go for anyone, and to make sure you were not a min target, you made sure any communication with anyone was going to be minimal.

Yet the one person who you were still talking to since you graduated together, was Oliver Wood. 

Being from the same House and in the same year, you both were thick as thieves throughout your years at Hogwarts and in Gryffindor House.  Ever since you were first years, you and Oliver were sticking together when it came to classes and studying.  It was nice to have another friend in your year since you were on the shy side, though Oliver was a bit cockier and a sports enthusiast.  Especially with Quidditch, which was his obsession and life. 

Speaking of which, you saw him helping bring in some of the bodies of the fallen to the corner of the Great Hall, placing them gently on the ground and covering their bodies with some of the blankets from the Hospital Wing.  He too looked worn from the Battle: his clothes were disheveled and covered in dust, and blood was evident along his jaw and a bit in his hair.  But you were glad he was walking around and alive, in a much better state than others.  It made you smile, seeing him alive and alert.

The older you two got while at school, the deeper your friendship was going, and with the deep friendship, you developed feelings for him came along too.  You had no clue when it happened, whether it was your 4th or 5th year when it shifted, but you started to look at him in a different light.  How he would fly as the Keeper on the quidditch team, you watched him a pinch longer during practice or a heated match against Slytherin.  You two were still friends, going to Hogsmeade on certain weekends to get butterbeer and catch up together, or go out on the ground studying together for Potions or Herbology.  

You were catching feelings, whether you liked it or not.

"Hey!"  You saw him make his way over to you, weaving his way around the other survivors who were walking around and trying to catch their breath.  His eyes were right on you, and you gave him a small smile as he finally sat down next to you.  Before you could say anything, he engulfed you in his arms, you clinging onto him while you both were sighing in relief and happiness that you both were alive.  

You were beyond glad to see him there with all his limbs and functioning, the last time you saw him was still in the wee hours of the morning and he was making his way over to the courtyard with some of the other Quidditch players,  You were taking one at least two Death Eaters that were trying to kill a group of 1st years that were caught in the middle of battle and couldn't hide out in time. Of course, the rest of the night you were thinking about Oliver and if he was okay, if he was going to make it to the morning and survive that whole ordeal.

He did, and you two were reuniting again.

"You okay?" He asked as he pulled away abruptly and scanned your appearance frantically, "Nothin' broken?!"

"I'm okay.  I promise I'm okay," You reassured him as he gave you another hug, this one felt gentler and a pinch intimate.  Just being hugged by Oliver alone made you feel at peace for the first time since you arrived at the school on the threshold of chaos and death.  His hugs always made you feel calm through a storm, peacefulness in a chaotic world, and most of all love in a lonely time.  No matter how many times you two hugged, whether it was a simple hug or something more intense, you felt love. 

You both again pulled away and you took in a long breath, looking away from Oliver for a moment, seeing the Great Hall still trying to heal and digest all that happened.  People were weeping, others were clinging onto each other in hopes of feeling consoled, and the rest were simply sitting, saying nothing with longing gazes on their faces.

"I can't believe that happened," You said in a long exhale, tapping your fingers rapidly on your leg as Oliver was watching you carefully and with a hint of concern, "He almost killed all of us, didn't he?"

You-Know-Who, filled with rage and power that it seemed that you were losing hope in winning this war.  All of the horror stories you knew about him and his followers were in effect that night. You knew it would take some time for you to heal, you didn't know if it'd take months or years, but you weren't the only one.  Everyone in that room would need to heal.

"Aye, but I'm glad we're all alive," Oliver murmured next to you, sitting back a bit on the bench, "Thanks to Harry,"

You gave a small smile at the mention of the Boy Who Lived, remembering him as merely a fellow Gryffindor and someone who flew with Oliver on the Quidditch Team.  You've ran into him a few times, being one of the plenty who knew of his story before he even did.  But he was kind, a bit brash at times but kind and willing to stand up to the bullies.  Harry Potter was a true Gryffindor, and for him to lead the battle against the very Dark Lord who tried to kill him as a baby, he was beyond brave.

"Thanks to Harry," You repeated as Oliver shifted in his spot.  He gave you a serious look.

"Where are your folks?" He asked, you rolling your shoulders.

"In America, visiting my Aunt and Grandfather," You replied, "They left two weeks before the Ministry fell, and I told them not to come back,"

"Good," He replied in relief.  Oliver met your parents a few times, the first time was at Platform 9 and 3/4 when you were going back to Hogwarts for your second year.  Your mum and dad thought of Oliver as a great fiend inviting him to come to your home over the summer once or two to both use your backyard to train for quidditch together and to simply talk quidditch with your dad.  

"Your folks?" You asked him with a raised brow.

"Fine.  They…um.. they went into hiding as I did, but they're safe with some old colleagues of theirs," Oliver explained to you, you smiling in return.

"I've always liked your mum and dad," You stated, "They've always been so kind to me, especially your mum.  And your dad is just like you,"

"Or I'm just like my da?" Oliver asked as you smiled and shrugged.

"Don't know, but I'm not complaining," You joked half-heartedly, hearing him laugh in return.  Such an odd thing to do at a time like this, almost dying from Voldemort, almost seeing the school that you grew up and loved become dust.  Yet you two were laughing as if you'd never parted after graduation.  Some people were looking over at you in confusion, wondering why two young adults covered in dust and blood were laughing like teenagers all over again.  

But it felt good to laugh, it felt good to let that emotion come through like a wave that was crashing on the shore.  You remembered laughing like this with him when you two would study together in the Common Room, or chat side by side during dinner in the very Great Hall you two were at.  You missed this, being with your old best friend and not having a care or worry in the world.

For the briefest of moments, you forgot about the war and how you almost died.  

After the laughing died down and you two were quiet again, Oliver looked down at his attire and grimaced a bit, "I don't know how much dust I have on my blazer,"

"Me neither," You agreed, looking at your coat and noticing all that it took on with the battles.  Some wear and tear along your sleeves, your shirt ripped at the bottom from a Dead Eater nearly ripping it off of you while you were trying to escape, blood splattered along your pants and boots that you threw on, and even your hair was a bit matted and barely staying together from the braid it was in over your shoulder.

The last thing you wanted to do was move from the bench you were on since it felt like you could fall over in exhaustion, but you also wanted to scrub down all the filth from your skin.  Your mind didn't know what you wanted to do, and thinking of traveling back to your small cramped apartment seemed too stressful.  

"I need to wash this off," You grumbled, flicking off some dry blood that was stuck on your thumb.

"And I doubt there's anything here in the castle to rinse off in," Oliver added in agreement, then pausing with a tense look on his face.  You looked back at him with a questioning gaze.  You knew that look on his face, plenty of times in the past when he had a bright idea, whether it was during Quidditch practice or knowing what to do in his homework.

"What?" You asked him, seeing him then gaze at you while pointing to the Great Hall doors that were barely propped open and showing the battered hallway.

"You think the fifth floor is still intact?"  He asked you, having you cock your head at him.

"The fifth floor?" 

Oliver got the door open, with a gentle nudge of his shoulder as he had to give it a shove.  After you followed him through the small opening of the door, your eyes went wide from the site in front of you.  Of course, with some debris everywhere and a few cracks in the wall and windows, most of the room itself was mildly damaged from the battle.  Perhaps there was some enchantment in this room, with all the minor damages that were evident all around the room.  You had no clue, you've only heard of this place through some gossip with some friends.

The Prefect Bathroom. 

A massive tub that took up half of the room itself was built into the ground, aligned with cool step stones and marble that wrapped around and melted into the stone walls.  Stain glass windows that were floor to ceiling were on the other side of the tub, different shades of greens and blues illuminating the room from the sun that was already rising over the Scotland mountains and countryside near Hogwarts.  

Along another wall, there were facets, dozens upon dozens of bronzed facets perched over the tub ready for use.  A shelf that was splintered had some white towels that were tossed to the floor, along with some vials that looked to have stored oils and perhaps scented substances for use in baths.

Shocked was not a word you would use in your everyday vocabulary, but this time you were going to have to use it.

"Merlin's Beard," You gasped as Oliver walked over to where the facets were, you were scanning the whole room as Oliver was checking the damage of the tub.  The surprise and shock of this massive room were still reeling in your mind, you've never seen any kind of bathroom like this in your life.  The ones in your old dorm back in Gryffindor Tower had no tubs, simply shower stalls that were decent enough.  But this tub was the size of your entire bathroom at your home.  

"How do you know about this bathroom?" You asked him as he was kneeling next to the facets and scanning the tub.

"Quidditch Captains get access along with the Prefects and Head Boys and Girls," He explained, "You don't know how many times I would hide out here and soak in this tub after a match,"

"No wonder you fled after the games rather quickly," You hummed as you were staring at the gorgeous stained glass over the tub, the image of a Mermaid from the Black Lake was along the glass and looked hauntingly beautiful.  

"Let's test it out, shall we?" Oliver asked, you looking over at him with a hint of shock as he was turning a few of the facets.  Some gurgles were heard, and you thought that the facets were going to be broken and water wouldn't come out. Sure enough, a huge flow of water was coming through at least 5 facets.  Oliver chuckled turning a few more facets with ease.

"What if someone sees us in here?" You questioned in worry, looking at the door that led out of the room thinking someone was going to walk in on you and Oliver in the Prefect's Bathroom.  Of course, you two were grown adults, not longer students at Hogwarts, but it would still be a bit of a shocker if a passerby happened to stumble on the pair of you alone together.  You were no prude, but you would hate to be caught in an awkward situation.  

Oliver gave you a raised brow and a glare, "You think anyone's gonna wander up here after what just happened here at school?  To the Prefect Bathroom of all places?!" 

You glared, "You know what I mean,"

"Aye I do, and you're a bit paranoid," He replied, you huffing and pointing to the running water from the enchanted faucets.

"How is it still working?" You asked in shock as you watched the water flow into the massive tub.  Each facet was giving out a different color in the water but once it was in the tub, it was all clear again.  

"Don't know, but I'm not goin' to complain," Oliver huffed as he sighed and stood back up.  Walking over to you, Oliver cleared his throat and gestured to the tub that was being filled up with hot water, "I'll just…umm…let you go first."

You blushed and fiddled with your fingers.  Now hitting another wall In this situation, taking turns in a bath with your old best friend.  It was already risky enough for you to be venturing amongst the school grinds, right after a massive battle that almost took out the entire castle.  

But another risk was being there with Oliver, the very Quidditch Captain that you both adored as a friend and secretly had a crush on.  No matter if you two were adults, covered in blood and dirt, still running on adrenaline and stress from nearly a handful of times within a few hours, exhausted in both fatigue and mental pain, you were getting those butterflies in your stomach again.  Just like you were teenagers, sitting together during a meal or in a study session, those fleeting emotions seemed to be coming back on overdrive.

Perhaps you were thankful he was alive and with you, finding you in a massive crowd of survivors and making sure you were okay and safe.  Or maybe it was the fact he reached out to you hours before everything happened, telling you Harry was calling all of the ex-Quidditch players to help defend Hogwarts.  You were both barely in contact with each other since you graduated, and seeing him at your doorstep with that glint in his eye and the look of panic and pain on his face.

But you would follow him anywhere, even if it meant into battle.  Placing your life on the line for the sake of helping your old friends defend the school you grew to love. Oliver had a way about him, the way of being able to give you a sense of security and vulnerability that no one else could ever do.  He knew your deepest secrets but held them to his heart with no sign of exposing them to others, his own unique joy and humor made you laugh more than anyone else ever could.  

There was no denial for you, you did love Oliver.

"Thank you," You replied, seeing him give you a small smile.  He was about to walk past you, leaving you in the Prefect Bathroom when you suddenly grabbed his arm.  Oliver stopped, looking at you as if something was wrong.  But you were giving him a kind smile, still holding his arm gently within your fingers and remaining close enough to almost feel the heat radiating off his skin.  It made you wonder if he could hear your heartbeat going up a bit faster.

"You okay?" He asked, his voice was low and subtle, almost sounding gravely, and yet warmth was mixed in his tone.  

"I'm just….I'm glad we're both okay and alive," You said in a stammer, Oliver saying nothing but staring down at you, "Mostly, I'm glad you're okay,"

Oliver gulped, giving you a short nod, "I'm glad you're here too,"

"And I know we haven't talked in a long time since we left Hogwarts, but you were my best friend.  All of the best memories I have ever had within these walls were because of you.  I never had a chance to tell you, and I wanted to tell you now," You explained with no hesitation in your voice.  It was selling out of you before you could stop yourself or dial it down. 

"I'm just glad we're both alive and that I told you how I felt.  It would have killed me if I didn't," You said calmly, then being a bit bold by leaning up a bit on your tiptoes and giving him a gentle kiss on his cheek.  It was brief, the fog that would roll over the Black Lake outside of the castle on an early Autumn morning.  But the feeling alone made you feel experience sparks under your skin, that teenage sensation was back tenfold as you were about to turn back around and grab one of the towels that seemed decent to use.  

Oliver turned you back around with a gentle grab on your arm, kissing you soundly on the lips.

You've been kissed before, yet not like this.  This felt like a new level of a kiss, his chapped lips along your own that almost shuttered from the sensation.  Other kisses felt clumsy or out of place, maybe failed attempts to make you feel swooned.  You hated those kisses, they seemed uneasy and stumbled.  But not this.

This felt like the sensation of flying on your broom for the first time, drinking a butterbeer on a cold winter day in Hogsmeade, and the feeling of snow touching your cheeks during the first snowfall.  Kissing your best friend, the one friend who was your true north and compass in the bad times, the one friend who knew how to make you laugh and feel overjoyed, and the one friend who was your number one fan and supporter in any choice you made.  

He pulled away slightly, you still in a daze from that simple touch of the lips as you slowly opened your eyes and watched him gaze at you.  With him being slightly taller than you, his brown orbs were pouring into yours as he was almost wishing to read your mind.  

But you knew that the same broke inside of you.

"Merlin," You whispered, leaning back up and kissing him back.

You both melted into one another, hands grasping each other's clothes as Oliver kissed you over and over as if he was both starving and yet taking his time with you.  You were letting him, his fingers brushing along your neck as he cradled your face close to kiss you soundly, his body pressing against you with the right amount of pressure that your head was spinning.  Everything about Oliver was consuming you, your fingers were clinging onto his blazer in fear that he was going to drift away from you. He wouldn't, you knew that deep down that he wouldn't leave you like this.  

One of his arms moved from your neck to lower your body, wrapping his arm around your waist to pull you in tightly as his kisses evolved into deeper and more sensual kisses.  It felt like a drug was kicking in with no sign of slowing down, maybe the knowledge of almost losing each other hours before when the castle was in flames and people were dying around you was still igniting in you.  

Before you both knew it, hands were roaming as you were leaning into him more and more. His hands moved to strip off your jacket letting it fall to the ground in a heap as your tongue moved out to trace his lower lip.  A small sharp inhale was heard from him, his fingers were dancing along your worn down shirt and his other set of fingers were digging into your hair while your hands attempting to push off his blazer.  Oliver grinned against our lips, moving his hands away for his blue blazer stained in blood and grime was now on the ground. 

"What are we doin'?" He asked against your lips as you kissed his hotly and smiled. 

"What we should have been doing for some time," You murmured back as his arms were around you again.  

"Aye, we should have done this a long time ago," He confessed as he pulled away again to look down at you again. You saw how plump his lips were, his dilated his brown eyes looked, and even the flush on his skin and cheeks.  This was a unique look on Oliver, who always seemed to have his cool and calm demeanor even the most stressful of times.  But now he looked undone, stripped open and bare, and it was all from kissing you.

"I think this is crazy," you admitted with a soft smile, though the smile on Oliver's face never left as he shook his head.  

"We just survived a war at the hands of Voldemort, and you think snoggin' in the prefect's bathroom is crazy?" He asked you in a breath, you staring deep into his eyes and seeing him reach into his back pocket where his wand was snug in.  With a twist of his wrist, you heard the door snapping shut and locking automatically.

"What's crazy, is that I never said a word about how I felt about you all those years we were friends," He explained with a gulp, his eyes never leaving yours as he went on, "I was afraid to say anythin', but not anymore.  I wanna be with ya, only ya, and after what we went through last night, I'm not lettin' ya go,"

You would have melted to the floor from hearing those words from Oliver, and you knew then and there you would never be able to let him go either.

Reaching down to retrieve your wand that was on the floor with your blazer, not losing your gaze on Oliver who was still giving you an alluring gaze, you licked your lips and gripped your wand tightly.  Finally, you turned around and aimed at the door.  With a flick of the wrist, magic shot out of your wand and landed against the door and the wall, giving a shimmering light.

“What did ya do?” Oliver asked in a tentative tone, thought you grinned and looked back at him with a soft grin.

“Imperturbable Charm” You answered, seeing him  grin widely as you dropped your wand onto your jacket that was on the floor.

“Bloody Hell,”

To Be Continued....

Tagged - @a-lumos-in-the-nox

[ghostie-luvs]

HIIII

so would it be okay if you made a yandere! hero x a villain! reader? Like a hero that’s looks like an absolute angel to the public, but when he sees the reader, he just turns into the villain. In private ofc!!

AND DJDNTJDKNR ITS OKAY IF YOU DONT WANT TO DW HAVE AN AMAZING DAY YOU WONDERFUL PERSON ☆

-🎀

Yandere! Hero x Villain! Darling <3

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ who debuted as a hero just after he graduated high school. He had always looked up to heroes and it was his dream to become one. He always liked the idea of saving a person and seeing the relieved faces all because of him.

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ who felt excited even though he was hurt while rescuing a civilian for the first time, getting them to safety and loving the “thank you’s” and smiles he received.

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ who feels accomplished the more he saves civilians and sends the more villains to prison, where they should be. You can imagine the surprise the night he fought a villain and did not even have the heart to do any damage to them.

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ who later in his debut, is known all around the country for the amount of innocent people he has saved. He is praised everywhere he walks and is always somehow there when villains seem to be lurking. The people all love him. How could they not? He’s so sweet, he saves everyone, and he’s rather good looking too!

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ who saved a civilian one night in the alleyways as he hears sounds of struggle, seeing the two figures as he throws his daggers, the blades pinning the culprit and into their flesh as a soft hiss leaves their lips, their eyes flickering over to his as the once trapped civilian thanks him and runs away.

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ who walks over to you, scanning you over as he takes in the blood trickling down your skin and oh…even under that disguise you sure are cute. He sees the way your lips form into a snarl and how you struggle against the blades, one in your side and the other trapping your suit to the wall behind you. Only a small laugh escapes him at the sight. Feisty too, huh?

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ who sighs as he frowns a bit, seeing the blood down your side and arm. In his sweet voice, he offers to help you out, only cocking a brow at your refusal but eventually you give in and now, here you both are, in his humble abode, where he’s stitching you up and bandaging you.

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ who after that, lets you go and as a consequence, sees more of you often during those nights. During these many nights together, he’s gotten to know you..he might even say that he’s gained some…feelings? That’s absurd, he’s a hero and you’re a villain! He’s dedicated his life to locking villains up. And yet..he can’t do a single thing to you.

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ who meets even your villain friends and..well, was invited to do what they do. With you, he’s learned so much..he’s felt more exhilarated during the nights together than when saving people. Of course, he wears a different disguise during these nights. He’s till the sweet, caring hero they all love during the day. But the night? My, he’s made a name for himself with you and your friends.

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ who, one night, while committing crime with you and your friends, sees your friend being just a bit more touchy while you were rolling your eyes and trying to leave the friends grasp. He didn’t say, but he felt a twinge of jealousy in his stomach as you two interacted.

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ who, as the night drags on, finally loses his patience, a snarl on his own lips as he ‘confronts’ the friend, trapping them to a wall as he pressed one of his blades to the person’s throat while the rest of the group walked on, and he threatened them. “Look, you may have known them longer. But you better fuck off, they’re mine. Got it?”

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ who mockingly smiled as the person nodded and he retracted his blade, walking off to catch up with you, wrapping an arm around your own waist as the person is left befuddled.

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ who realizes that maybe, the villain life isn’t so bad. As long as you’re by his side, that’s all that matters.

A/N: M so sorry for the long wait but I thank you for the patience!! I loved this idea and I loved how I ended it <3 I hope this was enough for you, darlin!! And also, welcome to my blog 🎀 anon! You are also a wonderful person!! In this, I’d say he’s a new yan and I’ll give him a name soon ! :) reblogs, comments, and constructive criticism (please tell me if there are any mistakes) are welcomed!!

more of my works :) Requests!!

© @ghostie-luvs All works belong to me,, please do not post my works, modify, or plagiarize on other platforms and this one unless stated otherwise.

[somnambulic-thing]

wrong number 2.2k

A/N: Just had an idea for a fic I will very probably never write in a fully flashed out way because I have a million wips and no attention span and no deisre to have more wips but don't want to fully let this idea go to waste so here it goes in very shortened form and probably very messy and rough.

Eddie x afab!reader || imagine them in their early/mid 30s

cw: mental health themes, reader has a broken leg, angsty shit, fluff, happy end

You moved cities to have a fresh start after a rough time came to an even rougher but long overdue end. You know nobody here, a clean slate to draw new blueprints on.

Two weeks in and despite your grumpy hermit ways, you are friendly with some of your neighbours already. They are nice, helpful people which is a win you take like it was a million bucks.

Three weeks in, you fall down a flight of stairs, break your leg and bump your head. Brilliant.

Back from the ER you sink into your bed, looking at still unpacked boxes and biting back bitter tears of frustration when your phone beeps. You eye it suspiciously, anxious your past might be knocking already, bloodhounds of days past sniffing your weakend state and their chance to inflict a little more pain.

You figure you're overracting, turn on the sceen and find a message from an unknown number.

[Hey Rick. Sorry to drop this on you on such short notice, but I won't make it to your get-home-from-prison party tonight. I can swing by next week with a six-pack or something. You have a good time, yeah? I'll explain when we see each other.]

[Hey there. I'm afraid you got the wrong number. I don't know any Ricks. But gratulations to him from me for getting out of prison, when you get a chance. Unless he's a serial killer or something comparable. Then I want you to run.]

[Well, shit. Sorry.]

And then after a few seconds: [I get back to you in case I need a place to hide.]

And somehow this sparks a conversation that lasts for hours. His name is Eddie, you learn after some minutes of back and forth which are unsuspectedly remarkably funny. But he's surprisingly also really concerned about your leg and your mild concussion and the fact that you mentioned you will give yourself one day of rest and then try to catch up on and get as much stuff done as you can with your cast and crutches. Luckily you can work from home, you say. Eddie isn't sure how he feels about that.

He makes you swear you take it easy. He asks if there are people that can take care of you and you lie to that concerned stranger who is the first person to make you laugh out loud in a too long time. You tell him your friends are taking turns to look after you. Why lie to a stranger? It's complicated... He keeps checking in, keeps chatting with you about all kinds of things all day long no matter what he has to do: Work, band practice, DnD, being out with friends or his uncle, Eddie keeps lighting up your phone all day long. The later the day, the deeper your conversations and you soon get the feeling that Eddie isn't all just fun and jokes but when you actually try to poke softly, he evades you.

[When you feel better and still are interested in my bullshit, I'll share. Promise.]

Okay, fine. Why would he want to trust you with his private struggles? He's just a stranger, with friends and an support system, who probably will lose interest to invest his time into you sooner than he himself is expecting. Which is fine... really... would be fine if he wasn't really funny... and interesting with a hundred interests and hobbies... and so weird and oddly caring... and living on the other side of the country.

But four days in and you wake up with a text from him, asking you if you finally could sleep a little better than the days before.

And then at 3am and endless hours of exchanging messages filled with thoughs and musings and dreams, he offers to send you a copy of a book he is sure you would enjoy. That he really needs... you to read for important reasons. One of them is to remedy the boredom inflicted by bedrest in those hours Eddie is busy and can't entertain you.

You give him your address almost without second thought, despite your mind telling you to maybe think about it first...

You had avoided anything outside of texts - no pictures, no calls - and he hadn't pressed the matter by himself. Which was a relief because you're not sure if you could witstand the temptation if he were to offer.

Getting more pieces of him... It just felt too dangerous. But a book was just a book, right?

You rely on your 72 year old neighbour for food and other errands and chores around your place. Mrs P is such a sweet old lady eager to help as much as she can, bending over backwards for you. So you naturally try to bother her only when it's really dire.

Seven days in and you see the postman stuff a small parcel into your mailbox. You hurry to snatch your crutches, not even thinking about what you are doing and you limp down the six stories to your mailbox way too fast. Your head is not happy and neither is your leg and it takes you and your ego ages and all your strength to get back up to your apartment.

You fall into your bed, exhausted, sweaty and in pain and crying in frustration and you fall asleep on the package from Eddie before you can even think of opening it.

Your phone rings and wakes you up when it's already pitch black outside. You've slept most of the day away.

Answering the phone on autopilot, still half asleep you don't check the name on the screen.

"Yeah?" you drawl.

"Jesus fucking Christ you're alive."

"What--? I--"

"I haven't heard from you in hours and your messages sounded so antsy and sad all day and I had a bad feeling somehow. Are you ok? Did I wake you?"

"Eddie?"

"Yeah, sweetheart. Hi, that's my voice. Anxious edition."

You're overwhelmed. Finding no words while his words dig deep trenches of longing into your brain which are hard to get out of...

"You still there?"

"Uh-hn, yeah..."

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing's wrong. I just woke up, like you said. That's my voice. Sleepy edition."

And then he laughs. Oh god, what a sweet sweet sound.

"Hmm, sorry I just was really worried here..."

You tell Eddie there is nothing to worry about but that he's very sweet and he asks you if you have a little time to chat, tells you he likes your voice, likes it a lot and of course you have time but something weighs on you and the flutter of bats in your stomach.

You can't say if it's the aftershock of your staircase ordeal or the fact that your wonderful stranger keeps getting more and more real and more and more precious or a mixture of both. Suddenly there is silence on the other end of the line.

"Eddie? You still there?"

"Something's off."

You shuffle and feel the parcel poke into your ribs. You dig it out from under you, face heating up from two sources - the gift and his tone - and you start to fumble the parcel open.

"I'm sorry--"

"Don't be. I just want to help. Let me help."

You finally fully unwrap the book. It's a well loved worn paperback copy. You run your fingertips over every wrinkles and cracks in the cover. Your voice sounds dazed to your own ears when you speak.

"I got your book..."

"Oh. Okay, yeah, great. And?"

You notice the excitement in his voice, notice that it matches your heartbeat when you open the book and find it full of notes. On some pages the margines are completly filled with Eddie's toughts.

"I just unwrapped it, like, ten seconds ago."

"Oh."

"I didn't realize you would send me... such a personal thing... looks like a diary..."

"Kinda is. Too weird?"

You stare at his handwriting which is somewhat of an elegant scratch and all those little sketches and something inside you gives way.

"I'm not okay..."

"I know. Tell me?"

You tell him that you lied, that there were no friends despite your eldery neighbor looking after you and you tell him about your little ordeal this afternon and about feeling tired and lonely and scared and starved for joy and he listens through it all.

Now it will be too much, you think but then you look at the book in your lap and keep talking. When you're done, there is silence on the other end.

"You still there."

"Processing."

"Mad?"

"Nope."

"Too much?"

"For me?" He chuckles. It's bitter and wonderful. "Sweetheart, it's not me who's dealing with all that shit right now. If you can handle living it, I can handle listening to it..."

"I hear you swallowing a but."

"But I know what you're talking about..."

You talk a little longer and despite him saying everything is alright, something is different. He seems distant, distracted, not fully with you. You keep leafing through that book, gently tracing the lines that are proof of his existance, marks he left in the world, preparing for him to ask you to send it back as soon as you can. You prepare for him to realize this was a mistake. A charity case gone wrong.

Eventually you get tired and a headache and he tells you to go rest, voice soft and deep and you're preparing for this to be the last time you'll hear it.

"Sleep well, yeah?"

No more sweetheart.

"I will. You too."

"See you tomorrow."

"Bye."

You have a restless night and wake up to a message from him.

[Good Morning. How did you sleep?]

You smile, feeling stupid, like you overreacted and you exchange some messages but they are short and flat and there is still no sweetheart. Around noon, your phone has gone silent. Inside your chest, the echoes of disapointment are deafening.

You bury yourself in his book, and it feels like you're having a conversation with him through his notes for they are like direct replies to your own thoughts about the story unfolding. You can't put it down, probably look up from it for the first time in hours late in the evening when you're full on crying, holding the book away from you to not get tears or snot on it.

And then there is a knock at your door. Three sharp raps. Quick.

And you think it must be Mrs P with your groceries, you feel guilty that she has to carry all the stuff upstairs while her knee is bothering her. You make your way out of bed, get your crutch and slowly move towards the door.

"Coming!"

You realize you still have the book in your hand and you wedge it under your arm to open your door and--

"Hi."

Your heart is racing as your mind tries to keep up with what is happening. You consider pinching yourself, consider reaching out to touch him, see if he's made of flesh and blood or delirium, feel the dip of a frown-made crease betwen his brows under your fingertips, the fine stubble on his cheeks under the slide of your thumb.

"That's my face. Worried edition... why are you crying?"

You lean against the crutch, wipe at your cheeks with one hand, dry your fingers on your shirt and pluck the book from under your arm, holding it up wordlessly. Eddie's face lights up in a big, wide, gorgeous smile. Now there are dimples you want to explore. Suddenly the floor is moving.

"Easy, easy." Warm hands steady you. You hear the door fall close behind you and then it finally dawns on you.

The dreamy guy from inside your phone is inside your flat.

He's holding you steady by your shoulders on outstreched arms, searching your face with big, incredibly dark eyes.

God he's fucking beautiful.

"You gonna faint, beautiful?"

You shake your head. That's all you can do.

"I'm going to use your very understandable shock to ramble for a moment, okay? Okay. The obvious first. What the fuck am I doing here without invitation? Offering you my help. I rearranged all my shit and I can stay for two weeks, if you like. I have a hotel room booked and ready if you don't want me to stay the nights. Next: Why didn't I ask on the phone first? Because I kinda feared you would just say no and be all tough and stupid about needing help. I am way more charming in person and I was counting on me actually being here, a real guy, showing you that I mean it, would make it easier to convince you... Am I pushy? Yeah. I guess I am. But... if you really want me to piss off again, I will piss off. We pretend that I was just getting back my book because you're not fit to get to the post office right now and I'll never bother you again... but I could stay and make you dinner while you tell me which part of the book made you cry, decide over my fate when you're fed and calmed down? I left a whole load of food with your neighbor downstairs. Nice lady. Thinks you're a stubborn thing, by the way."

You swallow around something enourmous and try your vocal cords on something simple.

"Hi."

He tilts his head, smiles softly.

"Hey sweetheart."

You inhale deeply. Your exhale either carries bravery or invites doom but suddenly you're really, really hungry...

"You're really here."

"Yeah, shit, I know... to be honest, my knees are really wobbly right now?"

"You're crazy."

"Hmm, totally... bad case... started about a week ago..."

And there you see it. He's nervous too. That finally makes him real.

"So," you say, reaching out to cup his cheek, your touch coaxing out those dimples again. "What's for dinner then?"

[is-today-tomorrow-in-nz]

Why Nikolai fails as a leader

I made a post about why I cannot accept Alina as a protagonist here. I wanted to continue the trend and do the same with the other members of the Righteous Gang. I will start with Nikolai this time.

This is a long read so, brace yourselves.

Nikolai Lanstov is a character I enjoyed reading very much and he is the only member of the Righteous Gang that I find likeable. He is shown as an inventor, visionary, a lawless pirate and a prince who threw away his cushy life to support his country. LB proposes him as an alternative- the 'good' leader opposed to the 'evil' Darkling. However, as the story progresses, we cannot help but see several parallels between them. Both are clever, have a thirst for power(not for themselves), are patriotic and posses an opportunistic nature.

So what differentiates our 'Good' King from the Dark Lord? The short answer is LB and her plot armour.

In other words, the 'goodness' in Nikolai that is supposed to make him better than the Darkling is never put under trial. Even though, Nikolai as a character has enough traits in him to make him swing easily towards the 'evil side', LB restricts his character to his goodness and devices a plot armour in such way that his morals and ideals are rarely threatened.

Let me point out a few key instances where LB restricts Nikolai's character growth to keep up his clean image:

Nikolai's bid for the throne: Ever since Sturmhond's true identity as Nikolai is revealed, we are shown of his ambition to take over the throne of Ravka. We also see the ground work he had laid since his days as a soldier in the First Army but his plans just stops there. After re-entering Ravka, his only plan is to solely rely on Alina(a fickle person at best) accepting his hand in marriage, kickstarting his campaign for the throne. With the Darkling on the run and the country in shambles, we see no tangible efforts from him even when the situation calls for it He neither strong arms Vasily(or the King) nor does he march in and seize the throne. He does nothing but attend meetings and act as an underling to Vasily. For someone who loves Ravka enough to give up his princehood and live his days as a pirate in the sea, we don't see him doing much to aid the said country when it is in literal chaos.

So how does Nikolai secure the throne?

Answer: The Darkling does it for him.

LB had already established Nikolai as a morally grey character. So why didn't she let Nikolai blackmail his father or brother to position himself in the throne? The country is in shambles and the entire population is looking for a miracle. Marching in with the Sun Summoner, his First Army supporters and seizing the throne is obviously the correct step here and yet we don't see Nikolai doing that or rather LB doesn't let him do that because if she did, then how can she differentiate her hero from the villain?

Nikolai's when faced with the truth about his parents: For once, we are given an excellent opportunity to see how good and righteous Nikolai is. He learns the truth about his dear father, aka the rapist King. He also learns how his mother had been turning a blind eye to his crimes for years. And he, their only remaining son, is placed is in a position to dole out judgement for their crimes.

How does Nikolai punish his family?

Answer: He doesn't.

He shamelessly uses the opportunity to establish himself as the King and sends his parents on a nice, luxury retirement to the colonies. So where did his sense of justice go? How is he the 'good' King when his first instinct is to pardon his kin and not hold them accountable? Isn't that what self-righteous, non-Darklings supposed to do? And the way LB later twists this on the Darkling is laughable. Nikolai literally denies Genya her justice and yet the Darkling is blamed for it. Instead of Nikolai shouldering the responsibility for his actions(by extension his family's), the entire fault is solely placed on the Darkling. What is one more evil deed to his list of crimes, eh Miss LB?

Nikolai on Mal's insubordination. Why does he allow Mal(much later we see it with Zoya too), a literal nobody, to talk and treat him the way he does? He was well within his rights as a prince to demand Mal's blood and yet time and time again he lets Mal walk scot-free? Why? Because he is different? Because he wants Alina to see him in a positive light? To present himself as a better prospect? Because he is a good person at heart that doesn't want to force Alina into something and 'win' her over? So kissing Alina without her consent, in a public event no less, was an act of chivalry?

Answer: Because if he acted, it would make him look as 'bad' as the Darkling. The Darkling would have never accepted insubordination from anyone let alone a nobody tracker from the First Army. He demands respect as any good leader should. Punishment for insubordination is not as 'evil' act as LB perceives it to be. It has been existing since the dawn of time and it exists even in today's modern society. You cannot mouth off figures of authority without consequences. And yet LB cannot have that because Nikolai is not the Darkling. He is different, he is 'good'.

*****

Throughout the trilogy and duology, through several mouth-pieces, LB keeps telling us how much of a good person Nikolai is and yet when presented with an actual moral dilemma, she does not allow him to make a decision that would sully his 'goodness'. So how can we, as readers, call him 'good' when he is never presented with a trolley problem?

LB keeps shooting Nikolai in the knee to keep him from growing. Because if he did, then we would see how he was no different from the Darkling. The 'evilness' of the Darkling stems from the fact that he had to make hard choices since the day he was born. He had taken up an cause that no one before him did and so being 'good' was never an option for him because the only choices he had were preserving his soul or preserving his community. And he chose the latter and this is where Nikolai fails as a leader. Nikolai never had to make a choice of sacrificing a few for the goodness of many. LB swathes him in plot armour after plot armour that by the end of the duology he is almost as virtuous as Virgin Mary.

It's a shame that LB's views of the world are restricted to black and white. Had she understood the nuances of morality, she would not have maimed one of her strong characters.

A good King shows strength, courage and fights for his country. He commands respect from his subordinates and strives to improve the lives of his subjects. A good leader does not hesitate to use any tools at his disposal to get results he needs- diplomacy, violence, threats, warfare etc. A good leader will always puts his people first before his morals and more importantly does not give up his crown to Daenerys Targaryen knock-offs. By making Nikolai's character cling to his cloak of morality, LB makes him look like a people-pleasing child rather than a formidable leader he has the potential to be.

In conclusion, as much as I like Nikolai as a character, I would say Uther Pendragon made a better King to Camelot than Nikolai did to Ravka.

[qqueenofhades]

bless u for the comprehensive answer to my last question, it is much appreciated! And sincere apologies for coming off as defeatist - you're absolutely right that, at the end of the day, the most important thing is working as hard as we can to make sure trump loses the general election. What this really clarifies for me is that my focus should be on the elections, and that I should file the judicial process under "interesting, could be useful, but will never be a silver bullet". Thank you again!

You're welcome, and I think it's most useful to think of it like this: we need to do our job (defeating Trump in 2024) so Jack Smith's job (indicting the fucker up the wazoo) will stick. We hear endless punditry and hand-wringing about how Trump will just cancel the charges if he wins, and that's often presented as some kind of terrible foregone conclusion that we will only avert by dumb luck, if we do at all. And yet, for some funny reason, we never hear about the flip side: i.e. if Trump loses, he's fucked. He will have no more reason to delay, no last-minute Hail Mary play, nothing to stop him from standing trial, being convicted, and going to jail, and that's exactly why he and the rest of the fascist criminals are throwing everything at the election. It is his last shot.

Honestly, I don't want people complacently thinking that the indictments will do the work for them and get rid of Trump -- because they will, but only if we do our job first and pound that motherfucker into the ground in 2024. I don't want anything to take away from the importance of doing everything we can to help Biden win in 2024 -- voting, volunteering, donating, talking to friends and family, you name it. We NEED to do that work so that Trump is out of miraculous golden parachutes and is left to face the consequences. And if he does (again, please God) lose, at least this time he is not the sitting American president and does not have the full resources of the federal government to attempt a coup. In that sense, if you want to see Trump properly, completely brought to justice, it's so easy:

Support the indictments

Vote for Biden in 2024

Do everything to make sure Trump loses

The end.

It's really that easy. Because as noted, if we do our part and Trump loses the election, he is fucked. That's really all there is to it.

We are in uncharted territory here because the founding fathers were eighteenth-century Enlightenment rationalists, and while they obviously did not trust a king and built in all kinds of checks and balances to prevent the president from BEING a king, they also imagined that whoever held the job would at least make a good-faith effort to follow the rules. Besides, the best-designed political system in the world would still be vulnerable to someone like Trump, who gleefully and sociopathically wrecks all norms and precedents however he pleases. That's why there isn't technically a law on the books preventing someone in prison from running for president, because the founding fathers were operating under the idea that people in American government would at least try, however badly, to perform the functions of American government. Trump doesn't. He doesn't give a shit about that. He's willing to take the whole country down in flames if it saves him personally from consequences, and while our institutional guardrails (barely) held last time, they've already said that a second Trump term would involve wrecking all of those, because he is a tinpot narcissistic psychopath dictator wannabe. And yes, it's terrifying, and yes, too many people didn't learn from 2016, and all the rest, but still:

If you want to see the fucker go to jail and reap the consequences of his actions, make sure he loses the 2024 election. That's what you need to focus on. Do that, and the rest of it will come after. So yeah.

[cupiohearts]

ANGEL EYES ?! - shu meet the strangest person you'll ever meet

gn! reader, scenario, highschool au, rebellious shu

shu found you easy to talk to in fact your first meeting started when he had begun rebelling against his school and started to skip class more often. living inside of the country side meant that there were several forests and lakes to look around at.

"a human boy?" he heard your voice coming from a tree that was thick in size and with leaves that grew all around. it was a dense tree so he couldn't even see if he tried. "huh? hey is someone around here or something?!" shu threw his bag down on the grass and sat against the tree.

"whoever you are come out right now!" he shouted around himself. not expecting anything from anyway.

a hand suddenly popped out from the tree in front of his face.

"WA-WAHHH! WHAT ARE YOU?!" shu screamed as soon as the hands started swinging around. "i'm human just like you!" you giggled. you watched as shu ran away from the tree screaming something about a witch or a monster living inside of it.

but here he goes again the next day. he brought himself a peace offering for you this time. a charm he found on the ground and declared it to be a worthy sacrifice.

"oh? a gift for me?" your voice quieted a bit after you took the charm from his hands. your arms disappearing from the tree for a moment before returning back. shu was still looking at the tree with a upset look on his face. his special tree was getting over run by a strange person and it's not very cool when arm start swinging from its leaves.

"human! bring me more of these!"

"if i bring you more, will you hurt me?"

"when you start bringing more of this trinkets we can start dealing out cards"

shu smiled inside of his palms at his first memory of meeting you. after that day he started collecting things like bottlecaps or scraps of ribbons to appease you so he could take naps or just relax under the tree you guarded. but when late summer to fall started coming around you stopped talking to him.

but one day in late spring you showed up again. he noted that you always came by when the leaves on the tree were getting denser to hide your appearance. he took nothing of it until one day on the first day of fall. he heard your voice again.

"im sorry shu, this will have to be my last time meeting you."

with only a sentence you stopped showing up all together. no notes, not a scrap of you was left behind. when he decided to climb the tree branch your hands appeared from all of the little things he gave you were there inside of a small hole inside of the tree.

it was laid inside of a pile with a paper on top of it. he couldn't read what was on the paper. it was only when shu started to learn more about spirits and more creature did he learn who you were.

a minor wind god who was too young to die. you were around for a few centuries and took in mainly spirits as followers but he found that all of your followers had died around winter.

since there was no one left to worship you, you no longer had a physical form. it was only your spirit that was left after the summers went by.

and here he was. at a rusted old shrine placing his hands and knees together and bowing at a dead god. but his dear friend at the same time. he had only just realized this but he never got your name all this time. looking carefully at the shrine there was an etched plaque that looked poorly placed on the side.

Y/N.

I WATCHED TOO MUCH NATSUME AND THE BOOK OF FRIENDS OK I NEEDED THIS

[heavyhitterheaux]

My Baby is Having Three of My Babies

First Babies of Private Garden Instagram AU

Liked by y/ninsta, urbanwyatt, saweetie, quiiso, 2forwoyne, djdrama, danivalentine, estgee, 21savage, and 4,086,225 others

jackharlow: first day out after announcing the pregnancy and her ass don't know how to act 🙄🥴

saweetie: leave my best friend alone. all she's had the pleasure of looking at is your big ass head for how many months?

jackharlow: OUTTA POCKET DIAMONTE!

urbanwyatt: and she had to fight tooth and nail for this to happen. left up to jackharlow he would have kept her in the house until the babies were born

jackharlow: urbanwyatt NO I WOULDN'T!

y/ninsta: jackharlow don't get up here and lie, only reason my pregnancy pic got posted is because I cried and you couldn't get me to stop

jackharlow: y/ninsta well excuse me for being protective over you 🙄

druski2funny: well damn throw me some. why ain't yall tell me yall were going?

jackharlow: y/ninsta you spoiled as hell smh

y/ninsta: jackharlow and it's no one's fault but yours 🥰

y/ninsta: druski2funny since when does your dumbass live in kentucky?

druski2funny: y/ninsta will travel for food

lilnasx: druski2funny your dumbass does realize that wing stop is all over the country, right?

danivalentine: my baby girl looks amazing. that glow is on point 😍

y/ninsta: special thank you to urbanwyatt who yelled at Jack because he was like 'out of all of the places we can go, you want to go to wing stop?'

urbanwyatt: y/ninsta his ass never learns smh, but I will say he's gotten better

jackharlow: urbanwyatt y/ninsta why are yall talking like I'm not here?

y/ninsta: Urby, can we go get ice cream after this? And did you hear something?

jackharlow: SERIOUSLY?

urbanwyatt: y/ninsta of course we can. extra sprinkles for the babies.

jackharlow: so just forget about me over here? WHO JUST SPENT DAMN NEAR 12,000 DOLLARS ON FOUR BIRKINS FOR YOU

y/ninsta: jackharlow it was for the babies! the babies need matching birkins with their mommy!

theestallion: lmaooo y/ninsta runs that damn house

normani: whenever she says jump, Jack says how high and how long do you want me to keep going for?

2forwoyne: SIMP

shloob_: jackharlow that's cheap compared to other things that you've gotten her

jackharlow: shloob_ you would take her side because you're scared of her smh

shloob_: jackharlow AND SO ARE YOU! SO WHY YOU JUST CALLING ME OUT?!

quiiso: it's not so much jackharlow is scared, he just values his life and wants to live a long one

jackharlow: quiiso exactly. you get it.

urbanwyatt: jackharlow only thing I get is that you a simp 🤷‍♂️

Liked by jackharlow, saweetie, danivalentine, djdrama, normani, theestallion, urbanwyatt, cardib, and 7,932,760 others

y/ninsta: yall wanna know their names? 👀

jackharlow: y/ninsta what the? WE don't even know their names!

y/ninsta: jackharlow yes I do, me and quiiso discussed last night

saweetie: y/ninsta so you mean to tell me you decided on their names without telling your husband?

y/ninsta: saweetie yes

jackharlow: y/ninsta I swear all you live for is to stress me out quiiso SHOW YOURSELF

quiiso: jackharlow I didn't do anything but give her a milkshake!

jackharlow: quiiso and I don't believe you

urbanwyatt: I thought we were naming them all after me?

jackharlow: urbanwyatt there's three of them

urbanwyatt: jackharlow I have three names. Urban Henry Wyatt.

2forwoyne: urbanwyatt lmaooooo aye yo

saweetie: them titties sitting right 😍

y/ninsta: saweetie and they're sore and they hurt 😭

saweetie: y/ninsta you better tell your husband to fix that for you

lilnasx: OKAY ARE WE REVEALING NAMES OR NOT? I GOT A FLIGHT TO CATCH

druski2funny: one of them is druski jr.

jackharlow: druski2funny over my dead fucking body

dualipa: look at my baby mama! I can't wait to meet my children!

jackharlow: dualipa what will it take on God's green earth for you to stop terrorizing me?!

dualipa: jackharlow one date with the wife

jackharlow: dualipa NO.

dualipa: jackharlow fine. anyway, I hear pregnancy sex hits tens times better. when you get tired of jack's dick, come get this pussy, byeeeee

jackharlow: DUA!

sza: lmaoooo dua has NO shame

lilnasx: NAME REVEAL NEOW!

jackandy/naremyparents: WE WANT NAMES!

jackharlowsource: well don't get shy now

jackharlow: y/ninsta baby you better NOT

y/ninsta: triple threat harlows! it's their nickname given to them by uncle quiiso

urbanwyatt: and all three of their birth certificates will have a variation of my name

jackharlow: urbanwyatt GIVE IT UP ALREADY

claybornharlow: little baby is hereeeeeee

y/ninsta: MY BABY!!

jackharlow: I get her pregnant and all she does is pay my younger brother attention. tired of this shit.

y/ninsta: smush, your jealousy is showing again. besides, you're the only one in the universe that I would let impregnate me.

brysontiller: y/ninsta only because I was busy

saweetie: OOP!!

jackharlow: I cannot fucking stand any of you smh

Liked by y/ninsta, urbanwyatt, danivalentine, saweetie, 2forwoyne, claybornharlow, jackharlowsource, and 5,792,306 others

jackharlow: she tired of me lmaoooo, crazy that my baby is having three of my babies

y/ninsta: jackharlow you been picking on me all day and I'm about to call maggie

jackharlow: I DIDN'T EVEN DO ANYTHING

claybornharlow: I told you that we wouldn't be having these problems if we were still together

jackharlow: claybornharlow imma knock your two front teeth out

urbanwyatt: jackharlow since when can your ass fight? that's all y/ninsta

jackharlow: urbanwyatt you know better 👀

urbanwyatt: 👀

2forwoyne: 👀

shloob_: 👀

yungskylark: 👀

nemoachida: 👀

quiiso: 👀

saweetie: what's them eyes for?!? jack you hiding something?

jackharlow: saweetie nope. nothing at all.

jackandy/naremyparents: I fucking told yall that he fought giveon. it was only speculation but that shit HAS to be true

urbandjack24: I second this!

claybornharlow: jackharlow y/ninsta will get you if you lay a hand on me

jackharlow: claybornharlow she has to catch me first since she isn't so fast these days

y/ninsta: jackharlow touch my little baby and I will END YOU. you will not get to see your three spawns born. MARK MY WORDS

jackharlow: y/ninsta oh? you'll end me? wasn't saying that an hour ago when I had you cum repeatedly on my face

y/ninsta: jackharlow just kidding 😊

y/ninsta: jackharlow but don't touch my baby!

saweetie: yall never let up lmaoooo

Liked by jackharlow, urbanwyatt, quiiso, danivalentine, djdrama, saweetie, champagnepapi, and 3,783,004 others

y/ninsta: I thought I was the passenger princess 🤨

jackharlow: y/ninsta YOU DROVE ONE TIME! ONE TIME!

sofftcurse: nah why you making my wife drive tho?

urbanwyatt: softtcurse excuse me, your WHAT?

softtcurse: y/ninsta is my wife, everyone knows this

claybornharlow: softtcurse since when?!

jackharlow: all of yall can fuck off smh

y/ninsta: but doesn't my baby look so cute?!? come here so I can kiss you and pinch your cheeks

jackharlow: y/ninsta stoppppp stink 🙈🙈

y/ninsta: AWW is my baby blushing?! like yall my man is so fucking fine. I see why all the cougars be after him. hint: anitta lmaoooooo but that dick is MINE!

saweetie: y/ninsta BITCH SHUT THE FUCK UP! LMAOOOO

jackharlow: y/ninsta you didn't have to add that last part smh

y/ninsta: jackharlow ain't she like 45?

jackharlow: y/ninsta hell if I know, now I'm coming to get my kisses

claybornharlow: y/ninsta me first!

jackharlow: claybornharlow mom should have swallowed you

y/ninsta: JACKMAN THOMAS! NO KISSES FOR YOU! APOLOGIZE!

urbanwyatt: TIME OUT! FLAG ON THE PLAY LMAOOOO

jackharlow: 👀

jackharlow: y/ninsta BUT, WHY?!?!

y/ninsta: jackharlow you know why. apologize to your baby brother NOW.

claybornharlow: jackharlow your wife still loves me more

jackharlow: y/ninsta I'll apologize when he stops terrorizing me

jackharlow: claybornharlow imma need for you to get a girlfriend smh

y/ninsta: claybornharlow it's okay little baby. I'll make you mini sweet potato pies

jackharlow: y/ninsta I WANT SOME TOO

y/ninsta: jackharlow not until you apologize

jackharlow: claybornharlow fuck off

y/ninsta: BABY!

Liked by jackharlow, urbanwyatt, danivalentine, saweetie, estgee, champagnepapi, 21savage, neelamthadhani, privategarden, and 4,962,301 others

y/ninsta: bored in the house and I'm in the house bored 🙄 where is my husband so I can give him a lap dance? jackharlow come home already!

jackharlow: throwing it back like that is why your ass is pregnant now, with not one, but three children. stop playing with me because I'll put three more after they're out

y/ninsta: jackharlow THE FUCK YOU NOT!

jackharlow: y/ninsta lemme eat it from the back tho

y/ninsta: jackharlow not the way this back pain is set up. I can't be on all fours.

urbanwyatt: y/ninsta exhibit A above says otherwise

y/ninsta: urbanwyatt you are supposed to be getting me cheese fries

jackharlow: urbanwyatt you better NOT

urbanwyatt: jackharlow too late, already here!

saweetie: AYE FUCK IT UP BESTIE!

y/ninsta: thank you to neelamthadhani for getting me more make up so I can be a bad bitch around the house too. bad bitches get no days off

jackharlow: y/ninsta my baby is a bad bitch anyway, but carry on

y/ninsta: jackharlow don't make me cry. I haven't cried in 6 hours and that's my longest streak

danivalentine: SIX HOURS?!

urbanwyatt: because six hours ago, 2forwoyne drank all the iced tea and she wanted some and of course who gets yelled at?! me and jack because 2fo was nowhere to be found

jackharlow: y/ninsta come sit on my face then

y/ninsta: jackharlow no I'm the size of the titanic

lilnasx: y/ninsta bitch please shut up, the titanic?!

normani: y/ninsta bitch you better scream jack I won't let go until he has your legs shaking. JACK DRAW HER LIKE ONE OF YOUR FRENCH GIRLS!

jackharlow: normani I don't have no fucking french girls, don't get me in trouble lmaooo you know her ass takes shit too literal sometimes smh

urbanwyatt: jack can't draw anyway. have you seen his stick figures?

quiiso: LMAOOOOOO

jackharlow: urbanwyatt OUTTA POCKET!

theestallion: did y/n actually turn down her husband eating her out?

y/ninsta: NO I DID NOT TURN IT DOWN I JUST SAID I WASN'T GOING TO SIT ON HIS FACE BECAUSE I DON'T WANT TO PUT ALL MY WEIGHT ON HIM

jackharlow: y/ninsta you act like I give a fuck about that. get your ass upstairs now and wait for me and I'm not fucking playing with you.

dualipa: oh damn. even jackharlow got me hot. SHIT.

y/ninsta: jackharlow YES DADDY, ON MY WAY!

Taglist:

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[savage-rhi]

Ffxv headcanons whatever type you want just share with the class

Noctis: When he was a kid, he used to lift up rocks to see what critters lived underneath them. He stopped around nine or ten when he accidentally pissed off a snake and got bit. It spooked him so bad that he didn't do anything like that again until he went on the frog side quest. Now that he's over his fear, Noctis is always flipping over rocks and ushering Prompto to come over and take photos of the animals and bugs he finds.

Gladio: There's a saying among the kingsguard that, "if you give Gladiolus a beer and a mic, you're gonna have a GREAT time!" He's quite good at karaoke, and despite the gruff voice, he can hit high notes. Singing was something Gladio and his sister did together while growing up. While Gladio didn't like her taste in music, being the big brother, he still sang her favs to and with her. He tried to keep this hobby a secret until he had one too many drinks with his comrades. He's since embraced his reputation over the years, and isn't as embarrassed about it.

Ignis: There are a few things in this world that can make this man mentally break, but Feng Shui nearly destroyed him. Ignis got into the practice initially in an attempt to get Noctis to have better organization in his apartment. Per usual, Noctis didn't appreciate the principles, but it rubbed off on Ignis to the point where he became obsessed with Feng Shui. He did it to all the rooms in the palace, much to King Regis's chagrin. It all backfired when Ignis attempted to Feng Shui his own residence. Nothing satisfied him, and after he didn't come out for almost 10 hrs rearranging furniture, Noctis had to give him an intervention. After that, he swore off the practice. Sometimes, he'll get irritated if he hears about it in passing.

Prompto: In his spare time when he's not with a camera, Prompto is on a computer learning to code. While he's not the best at it, Prompto enjoys the process cause it satisfies a mental itch (he gets that from his father...haha). It's his dream to one day make a game like Kings Knight. He has pages of concept sketches for apps, and other social media ideas he'd like to try creating one day. He seldom shares his passion with the boys, assuming they'll think it's too nerdy.

Lunafreya: It isn't considered "proper" by an means for someone of her status, but Luna enjoys watching duels on TV or in person. Ravus from a young age was always taught how to be a warrior, and she felt left out on numerous occasions when he'd be sent off to learn sparring lessons among other trainings. As a kid, she used to sneak away from her home in Tenebrae to watch people battle for fun. Observing others helped her hone in her own skills, and she's memorized different stances and techniques over the years. She also used to place bets on people who fought, and did get into trouble at one point because of it.

Ardyn: He's very aloof and no one knows what the hell he does in his spare time when not running a country. He has the craziest of rumors made up about him, and he ravishes in how it all scares and fascinates people. What people don't know is that he often sneaks around Niflheim and observes others for his sketchbook. When he was a healer, he had a book of medicinal plants that he'd catalog and sketch out himself. It's one of the few things that soothes his mind anymore with the daemons he has in his head. For a few hours, Ardyn can silence them by focusing on capturing the details from another person or thing in his work. It's also his only means of connecting with humans given how far he's gone. His style is kind of like Da Vinci's, very detailed with lots of notes here and there. When he's sketching its also the time where he'll snack on something sweet like candy from his pocket. In general he'll always have candy on his person, but he likes savoring it without an audience.