#for every @ I get I have to tag someone I love/look up to

[rowarn]

IF YOU NEEDED ME !

simon riley/reader – 7.1k words sale of a lifetime mini series !

tags: smut, childhood best friend!simon, virginity for sale trope, unrealized feelings, soft!simon, protective!simon, virgin!reader, afab!reader, no prns for reader

cw: loss of virginity, cunnilingus, wet & messy, fingering, creampie, mid-sex love confession, a little arguing but nothing crazy tbh, petnames (love, lovie, sweetheart)

; he remembers the way you would look at him when you were children, all smiles and bright eyes. he never thought he was deserving of such happiness. but now, with you shyly covering your bare breasts, in his bed, he feels like he’s the only man deserving of you.

or.

he may not have been the first man you picked to give your first time to. but looking back, you realized he was the only right choice in the end.

Meeting some unknown, shady guy out on the street outside of a seedy bar wasn’t the smartest decision you’ve ever made. Nor was it how you actually intended to spend your Friday evening. But it was the only option you had at the moment, so you swallowed your nerves and forced yourself to stay put at the spot the guy had chosen despite the fact that being out on the street made you feel x10 more nervous and vulnerable. 

You could hear the loud music and chatter inside the bar every time the door opened to let someone in or out. There was a chill in the air that had you contemplating actually going inside and just telling the guy to meet you in there – you were about to give the bastard your damn virginity, the least he could be was accommodating to your temperature struggles. Plus, you could really use a drink.

A car, expensive by the looks of it, pulling up to the curb had you pausing in that train of thought. You recognized him from his profile picture when he stepped out of the vehicle – Lucas, you recall being his name. Whether that was really his name or not didn’t matter; all that mattered was he brought what he promised.

“You have the money?” you asked when he approached you, giving him a tight-lipped smile as a greeting.

“Yeah, got it in the car. All cash, I hope that’s alright,” he grinned, a sight that made a shiver go down your spine. His tone didn’t match the smile, all transactional and dull despite the glimmer in his eyes.

He wasn’t necessarily unattractive but he certainly wasn’t your type. There was a look in his eyes, one that made your skin crawl because you felt like you were nothing but a piece of raw meat in front of a starving, salivating predator. 

“We should get going,” he said, hurrying to open the backseat of his car for you.

You paused, “Aren’t we going to go inside or something?”

He looked confused, grip on the door tightening for a moment before he bursted out laughing. When he saw the shocked look on your face he sobered up, “Sorry, sorry, that was rude of me. Sweetheart, this isn’t a date. I’m just here to get what I paid for.”

“Oh…” you swallowed around the lump in your throat at the condescending tone, humiliation making your cheeks burn, “Right.”

Tears stung the back of your eyes and you quickly averted your gaze so he wouldn’t see how much that stung. Of course, you knew it wasn’t a date. This was a transaction. But you at least thought you’d get to know the guy who was about to take your virginity. You should have known better.

A man who was paying for your virginity wasn’t bound to be someone you could trust to feel comfortable around. You quietly sigh, resigning yourself to this all for the sake of some fucking money. 

You settle into the car, heart jumping into your throat when the door slams. It feels as if you’ve just sealed your fate and you can’t deny that you’re scared. 

But there’s an envelope next to you that you can see stuffed with bills and you clench your fists, trying to calm your racing heart by closing your eyes and breathing. 

You just hope this decision doesn’t cost you your life or something. You’d hate to imagine what that would do to a certain someone.

Suddenly, the car jostles. Your eyes snap open and you see Lucas is jacked up against the side of the car, a very familiar form caging him in. His scarred hands grip the man’s shirt in tight fists. You can’t hear what they’re saying but you can see Lucas is chattering frantically, gesturing wildly with his hands in an attempt to quell the angry man in the skull balaclava. 

You curse to yourself, a different kind of terror shocking through your system. Lucas is thrown to the side and you wince at how hard he hits the pavement before the car door is jerked open.

You can’t even say anything before a strong, rough hand wraps around your arm, yanking you out. You stumble once you’re on your feet, falling right into his chest. 

You try to pull away but his arm clamps down around you. 

Lucas is cursing and screaming his head off, words you don’t even bother to try and decipher because you’re too preoccupied with the masked figure that made his sudden appearance. Nerves make your knees shake and from the look of pure rage in his eyes, you know you’re in deep shit. 

Lucas opens the car door and slams it before driving off, tires squealing against the pavement before he vanishes. Along with that wad of cash that was going to be yours in just a short time. 

Suddenly you’re angry, shoving your hands against his chest to get him away from you.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing, Riley?!” you shriek, shooting him the fiercest glare you could muster.

“I should be askin’ you that,” he sneers, “The hell were you doin’ with that prick?”

“I–”

“Don’t answer that,” he snaps, cutting you off swiftly, “I know what you were doin’. If you needed money that badly you should have told me.”

“It’s not your concern, Simon!” you cry, resisting the urge to petulantly stomp your foot.

You’re so pissed. 

Simon Riley and you went way back, childhood friends. The two of you had always been in each other's lives. Simon especially was always there when you needed him, a beacon of safety and protection. Your best friend and someone you loved to the ends of the Earth. 

But right now, you’re so angry with him that you can’t seem to think straight.

How dare he show up now, when you’re about to do the most humiliating act of your entire life. How could he show his stupid, masked face here when you didn’t even ask for his help in the first place for a reason. 

“You are always my concern,” he shoots back, scarred knuckles turning white from how hard he clenches his fists, “I have always taken care of you. You should have come to me for help instead of puttin’ yourself in danger like this. You didn’t know that guy, what the fuck were you thinking?”

Anger makes your skin hot, sweat beading on your forehead, blocking out the chill that once made goosebumps rise. You feel ashamed that you were caught in this situation – that the man you’ve known your entire life knew you were about to sleep with some random asshole for a fat wad of cash. You don’t like that he’s made you feel ashamed and confronted you with it.

“Just fuck off, Simon!” you shriek, the only thing you can think of before turning on your heel and stalking away from him.

You don’t glance over your shoulder to check if he’s following because you know he most likely is – from a safe distance to make sure you make it inside your apartment alright but far enough that you can’t get mad at him for it. Your jaw is clenched so tightly that you feel a headache radiating down your neck. 

By the time you reach your apartment, the anger has simmered and all you’re left with is a festering shame that makes tears fill your eyes. You wrap your arms around yourself and quickly shuffle yourself inside, not bothering to check if Simon is out there or not. All you want is to get a hot shower and crawl into bed for the rest of the weekend. 

You do just that, letting the burning hot water scald your skin until you can’t feel any emotions except exhaustion. And then, you crawl into bed and let sleep overtake you without a second thought. 

When you wake up, it’s clear that it’s late into the afternoon. The sun is high in the sky and shining painfully bright through the crack in your curtains. You groan and roll over, slapping the bed to find your phone. 

You grab the device and unlock it, taking a moment to scroll through your notifications. There’s some angry messages from the guy from last night – cursing you out for setting him up to be jumped. It makes you roll your eyes before a particular notification catches your eye.

It’s from your bank – alerting you of a deposit. 

You sit up straight in your bed, brows furrowed before your eyes nearly bug out of your head when you see your bank statement. It’s more than you needed and you know exactly who was responsible. 

You jump out of bed, not even bothering to dress out of your pajamas before you’re shoving some slides onto your feet and storming out of your apartment. 

You’re so heated that you can’t even remember the walk to Simon’s place, your mind racing a million miles a second. You storm up to the door and slam your fist on it, the hard wood making your hand sting from how hard you pound. 

The radiating tingle of pain is quickly forgotten when the door swings open. 

Simon stands there, looking down at you expectantly. He leans against the door with his arms crossed over his chest. He wears an army-issued t-shirt that’s a bit too tight. The sleeves stretch taunt around his biceps and you can make out the swell of his pecs. It’s not very often that you get to see his tattooed arms, littered with scars since he tends to wear long sleeves most of the time. 

He doesn’t look at all surprised to see you, clearly having expected you. The apathetic look in his eyes just solidifies that you were right all along.

“What the hell is your problem?!” you cry without so much as a greeting.

He sighs, broad shoulders rising and falling with it before he opens the door wide and motions you inside. You duck underneath his outstretched arm, turning to watch as he closes the door and locks it. 

He wanders into the kitchen and you realize you can smell bacon. He doesn’t seem at all surprised by your outburst nor does he seem interested in acknowledging your question.

“Are you hungry?” he asks, only solidifying how unperturbed he is by your display of anger. 

“No!” you snap, “I want to know why you did that, Simon!”

He sighs again, much louder but doesn’t respond. You stand in the doorway to his kitchen, watching him plate his lunch – which is actually just breakfast food. He places the dish on the table and pauses, looking up at you.

“You needed the money, I had it,” he offered with a shrug of his shoulders.

“I was handling it on my own,” you say, “I-It was my problem to solve.”

“By sellin’ yourself to some prick?” he snarls, the anger he was masking coming out in a flurry.

“I wasn’t selling myself–” you refute but he slams his palms down on the table. His cutlery clatters with the action and you jump.

“I read that post you made,” he hisses, teeth bared, “There’s no fuckin’ reason you should be selling your virginity for some cash when I was right here the whole time!”

Your cheeks burn when he brings up your virginity, crossing your arms over your chest protectively, “I-It’s mine to sell if I want to! I needed that money!”

“And now you have it,” he says with finality. 

He takes a seat and you stand there, fuming. Your jaw is clenched, teeth grinding together as your mind races to find a rebuttal. He begins to eat, taking large, fast bites that just shows how he’s been conditioned to eat quickly by the military. 

“That’s not the point, Simon,” you huff, growing less angry and more frustrated by this conversation. You were just going around in circles. 

“Then what is the point?” he snaps, snatching his empty plate and angrily tossing it in the sink. He turns to you again, a frown evident on his face, “You got the money you needed safely. That’s all that matters.”

“It’s too much money, Simon!” you cry, “I was selling something in exchange for it!”

“I care about you,” he says, “That doesn’t matter to me. What’s mine is yours, you know that.”

You silently glare at him, wishing that the heated stare would get through to him. He stands unbothered, staring blankly at you with his fists clenched by his sides.

You hang your head, sighing, “I-I can’t take your money, Simon, alright? I’m already in debt and I’m not going to be in debt to you of all people.”

“You feel like you owe me, is that it?” he asks.

You nod your head, heart rate spiking when he stalks towards you. You’re close enough to smell his body wash and aftershave, a painfully familiar scent that you adore. He stares down his nose at you, brown eyes lidded and lazy. 

He reaches out suddenly, rough hand gripping your cheeks, smushing them together until your lips pucker, “Then give me a kiss as payment.”

“H-Huh?” you whimper dumbly, eyes wide in shock as his face grows closer and closer.

“It can be payment for a kiss, lovie,” he coos, syrupy sweet and soft, “Will that make up for it, then?”

The air in your lungs suddenly doesn’t feel like enough. This is a man that you’ve known almost your entire life so you’ve obviously thought about him in a romantic sense at some point. Hell, when you were a teenager you even had a crush on him. But he never once looked at you any other way than as a friend so you quickly got over it – or maybe that’s just what you told yourself. Because as you stand there, staring into his eyes, you realize that kissing him would feel like a dream come true. 

You find yourself nodding despite the inner turmoil going on in your head. Simon huffs through his nose before leaning down and pressing his lips against yours. 

There’s a shock of electricity that goes through you at the contact. Your eyes flutter shut as you lean into the kiss, letting him take over. He works his lips expertly against yours, eventually abandoning his hold on your face in favor of wrapping his arm around your waist. You gasp into the kiss when he suddenly yanks you closer, your body pressed close against his. 

He’s warm and sturdy against you, a solid form of muscle that makes you feel safe and content – just as he always has. His hands are big and rough as they grip your hips, kneading the soft flesh there as he gets lost in kissing you. 

“S-Si,” you find yourself muttering without realizing.

He hums in response, chuckling when you continue to mindlessly kiss him. He pulls back, one hand coming up to wrap lightly around your throat, thumbing at your jaw as your eyes slowly focus on him, “What is it, sweetheart? What do you need?”

“I-I don’t…” you swallow thickly around the forming lump in your throat, “I don’t know. I just…”

“Show me,” he breathes, softer than you’ve ever heard his voice. 

The sweet, tender look in his big, brown eyes is what gives you the courage to grab his wrist, leading it just under the hem of your shirt so he can touch your bare stomach. You give him a shy glance from under your lashes, hoping he’ll get the hint that you want more. 

You want him.

Simon, in all his experienced wisdom, understands immediately what it is you’re aching for. His hand travels up further, pausing at your ribs, just under the swell of your breast. Your heart hammers in your chest when your gaze meets his. His eyes are lidded, long lashes obscuring his pupils but still burning into you. 

He stares deep into your eyes, waiting for any sign of hesitation as his fingers creep higher and higher. You suck in a breath when he cups your breast in his palm, squeezing lightly to feel their weight. 

A large, calloused thumb creeps up, passing ever so softly over your nipple until the bud peaks and hardens under the attention. You sigh at the feeling, new shocks washing over you that you’ve never experienced before. 

Sure, you played with yourself plenty – you had a healthy masturbation life, you’d say. But you’d always just been focused on reaching an orgasm, never on the build up. You imagine, however, it would never feel as good by yourself as it does with him.

He pinches your nipple between two fingers and you whine, lips parting as the sound escapes. Simon takes the opportunity to slide his tongue into your mouth. Your hands grab his shoulders, desperately clinging to his shirt as you lose yourself in the sloppy kiss. 

Drool drips down your chin – it's messy and hot between the two of you. His hand switches to your other breast to give it the same attention as the other. You tremble in his arms, overcome by the insatiable throbbing between your thighs. 

You shift on your feet, the fabric of your panties stick uncomfortably to your core. You’re so wet, wetter than you’ve ever been in your life. By the time he pulls back, there’s a string of saliva connecting your lips to his. 

“You want more?” he asks, voice gravelly as he speaks, as if he’s drunk. You nod your head and he clicks his tongue, “You gotta tell me, sweetheart.”

“I-I want more, Si,” you whisper, feeling your cheeks burn as you admit it. 

“Let’s go,” he hums, taking your hand in his as he leads you around the couch towards the hallway.

“Where?” you ask dumbly, hoping that making some kind of conversation would ease the nerves steadily building in your chest. 

“The bedroom,” he responds, stroking his thumb over the top of your hand as if he can sense that you’re nervous, “Wouldn’t want to be stripped down in the middle of the living room, I imagine.”

“N-No,” you squeak, cheeks burning even hotter at those words. 

You’re going to be naked. In front of another person for the first time. In front of him. Simon. 

“There now, lovie,” he whispers as he shuts his bedroom door behind the both of you. He takes your waist in his hands, kneading the soft flesh there, “It’s alright.”

“I-I’m just–”

“Nervous,” he finishes for you, smiling softly when you nod, “I know. We can stop anytime you’d like.”

“I don’t want to,” you rush out, hands coming up to press against his firm chest, “Just…d-don’t be upset when I don’t know what I’m doing.”

The tender way he looks at you sets your heart pounding like a little rabbit. A ghost a smile appears on his lips, “I would never do somethin’ like that.”

“I-I know, I just…” you look down at your feet only for him to catch your chin in his fingers, pulling you to look up at him.

You swallow thickly around the lump in your throat, holding your breath as he descends down. His lips find yours all over again, as exhilarating and mind-melting as the first time. 

Just the sweet, deep kiss he gives you has your nerves dissipating a bit – back to normal levels. You no longer feel the desire to flee, you just feel an intense longing and anticipation. You crave more from him.

As if sensing this, his fingers find the hem of your shirt. He slowly starts to pull it up, agonizingly slow. But you’re grateful for it, it gives you time to prepare before you’re bared completely to him. You lift your arms for him, a sign that you’re still okay with this. 

He pulls it up over your head and lets the fabric drop to the floor. But he doesn’t look down, he continues looking in your eyes, softly pecking your lips as his hands cup your breasts once more. 

When you sigh and lean into his touch, he finally lets himself break the eye contact. He sucks in a sharp breath when he sees how pretty your tits sit in his hands. He touches them softly, sweetly brushing over your nipples in admiration. 

“Perfect tits, lovie,” he coos, chuckling when you whine in embarrassment. 

His head descends, pink lips parting to take one of your nipples in his mouth. It’s hot but his tongue is soft when it circles and flicks at the bud. He sucks, popping off lewdly before switching to the other one. 

The sensation makes you squeeze your thighs together, imaging what that would feel like around your clit. Your hole clenches around nothing, drooling messily into your panties. The fabric was so wet by now that it couldn’t soak it up anymore, leaving it to slick up your thighs instead.

Your core ached, a feeling only Simon would be able to soothe. 

“Please, Si,” you finally break, whimpering pathetically. 

He detaches from your breast, lips wet and swollen from the worship he had been giving your now sore nipples. His pupils were blown wide, black swallowing brown and you were sure that yours looked the same. 

He stands to his full height, nudging you backwards until your knees hit the bed. They buckled at that, leaving you to fall back against the bed. Simon’s bedding was soft, the scent of detergent and his own body wash filling your senses. You relax at the familiar, comforting scent, sinking into the blankets with a bashful smile on your face.

To Simon, you’re an ethereal beauty. You take the air right out of his lungs with the way you look at him.

He remembers the way you would look at him when you were children, all smiles and bright eyes. He never thought he was deserving of such happiness. But now, with you shyly covering your bare breasts, in his bed, he feels like he’s the only man deserving of you. 

He scooches you up the bed, crawling on after you until he’s on top of you. Though you’re still wearing your pants, you feel so vulnerable beneath his weight. He’s heavy and warm and he smells so good. You can’t focus on anything except for him – he’s all around you and it’s exhilarating. 

Feeling bold, you reach up and tug at his shirt. He pulls it off with ease, revealing his toned, scarred upper body. You can’t help but trace over some of the ones you’re familiar with – there’s one from a time he fell out of a tree trying to rescue a cat that you had been crying about. He fell out of the tree on the way down, a jagged branch stabbing into his upper arm and slicing it open. There was another one from when you were teenagers, some other kids jumped him and he took a stab to his shoulder trying to protect you. You kiss that one and he softens, as if he’s remembering it too. 

He’s always been there for you, an overwhelming presence that you simply couldn’t live without. The fact you’re here, in this bed, about to give him your virginity is something that you never would have expected. 

And to think, you were planning to sell it off to some random loser. 

“I’m glad you stopped me,” you find yourself whispering. 

He looks confused for a second before he hums, nodding in understanding, “I am too.”

“I-I want it to be you, Si,” you whisper, the confession leaving you embarrassed. It’s true, all this time, you realize, he’s all you’ve ever really wanted. You had just buried it deep down so you no longer felt those sparks towards him.

“I’ll take care of you,” he whispers back, as if the two of you are sharing some secret little moment that no one else can hear about even though it’s just the two of you in this room. 

“You always do,” you respond, the words making his dark eyes light up. 

He kisses you deeply, moving his lips slowly against yours. When your hands come up to grip the back of his neck, he takes that as his cue to move down to your neck, then your collarbones, down the center of your chest between your breasts, the spot between your breasts, and finally your navel. 

You lay back, head in his pillows with your hands on either side of your head. You watch him, breathing labored as you wait for his next move. He pauses in his path, looking up through his lashes at you before his fingers find the hem of your sweats. You swallow thickly, holding your breath when he slowly begins to pull the fabric down. You lift your hips to help him, pulling your legs free while being careful not to kick him by accident. 

He keeps his gaze on you until you’re settled back down into the bed and the pants are forgotten on the floor to be collected later. Then, he looks down. 

Even though you still have your panties on, you know that the white cotton is soaked through and hides absolutely nothing from his view. 

You watch as he licks his lips, as if his mouth is suddenly bone dry. His hands are burning hot when he touches you again, sliding over your thighs to your hips. He leans down, pressing his lips against each of your thighs. 

His thumb reaches down, stretches over your pubic bone to touch the sticky fabric. You nearly jump at the sensation – someone’s fingers other than your own touching you there for the first time. Simon’s fingers.

As if he can’t help himself anymore, he tugs the waistband of your panties and yanks them down your thighs. You squeal when you’re jostled under the force. 

He holds the material up and you’re mortified to see just how wet they are. He runs his thumbs over the crotch and you whine, drawing his attention from them. He drops them to the floor and returns his hands back to you, gripping underneath your knees, so he can spread you all the way open. 

Your hands fly to your face, covering your eyes in embarrassment at how exposed you are. He doesn’t seem to mind, pressing a kiss over the top of your hands before moving back down your body. 

You peek through your fingers only to find him already staring at you with a sparkle in his eyes. He carefully spreads your slippery folds apart with his thumbs, the movement causing a wet, sticky sound to emanate from between your legs. The little bud of your clit is hard and twitching as it’s exposed to the cool air of the bedroom. When he’s sure you’re looking he leans down, pink tongue hanging out of his mouth. You stop breathing as you watch a fat glob of spit roll down the surface of the smooth muscle and splatter right on your clit. 

“Si-!” your squeal of his name is cut off when your eyes roll back in his head as that sinful tongue slides right over your bud. 

Your whole body twitches at that, hands falling away from your face so you can reach down and grab his hair. It doesn’t even seem like he notices your grip, focused on slurping up that sensitive nub into his hot mouth. 

You choke out a moan, tilting your head back into the pillows as your back arches. It feels just as good as you thought it would when he was giving the same, lewd treatment to your nipples. 

He continues to suck and lick your clit until your mind is completely blank and all you can think is him. Then, all at once it stops and he pulls back, letting your bud slip from the heavenly clutch of his lips.

“You ever have somethin’ inside you, lovie?” he asks, bringing up one of his fingers to swipe through the folds of your entrance, as if to show you what he intends. 

You swallow to moisten your throat before nodding, “J-Just my fingers.”

“How many?” he asks, growing more confident in prodding at the tight little hole. 

“T-Two,” you breathe, any embarrassment you felt long dissipated in the face of true pleasure.

“Alright, lovie,” he hums, “Just lay back, I’ll take good care of you, yeah?”

You nod and do as he says, turning utterly boneless against the blankets. The sweat already slicking your skin despite the fact you’ve only just begun makes the fabric stick to you. 

He prods at your entrance for only a second longer before finally, he pushes his thick middle digit inside you. Your cunt is so wet and pliant that it hungrily swallows it up to the very last knuckle. You clench around it intentionally, getting used to the feeling of the foreign finger inside of you for the first time. 

It feels so different compared to your own, thicker and rougher. The sensation is so strange but you can’t say you don’t like it – in fact, it feels amazing. You already want another, feeling like one just isn’t enough to give you that unknown feeling you’re chasing. It’s like you have an itch that needs to be scratched and only Simon can do it for you. 

As if sensing this, ever the reliable one, he carefully introduces a second finger. The stretch is unfamiliar, a burn around your entrance following as he reaches the last knuckle on that one too. His middle and ring finger stuffed snuggly inside your gooey little cunt as you whine and squirm from the feeling. 

Once you’ve adjusted, he slowly begins working them in and out of you. You slick up his fingers easily, streaks of creamy white coating his skin and making his mouth water. When he crooks his fingers up suddenly, prodding at that tender little spot inside of you, your entire body twitches and the most beautiful moan rips from your chest. 

He can’t resist leaning down and trapping your pulsing little clit under the flat of his tongue. He doesn’t slurp it into his mouth like before, instead, he just licks over it, pressing it down with the muscle. Your eyes are rolled up and your mouth hangs open as you moan and moan, tugging mindlessly at his hair as he works you towards your orgasm. 

It grows and grows, the unrelenting pleasure of his fingers fucking deeply into you and his tongue lapping sloppily at your clit like a mutt driving that knot in your belly to tighten. Drool spills out around his tongue, slipping down to meet his fingers where he easily fucks it into you – the added lubrication not needed but so very welcome with how much wetter and messier it makes you. 

“S-Simon…” you pant, gasping to catch your breath as the pleasure makes it hard for you to even think. 

He glances up at you through his lashes but doesn’t offer any other acknowledgement. There’s a knowing look in his eyes that tells you he knows exactly what he’s doing. He’s going to wring this orgasm out of your little cunt whether you like it or not. 

And fuck, do you love it. 

The orgasms you brought yourself in the deep of the night, little hands stuffed down your panties as you played with your clit and stuffed yourself with your own fingers was nothing like what you were experiencing now. Simon’s thick fingers and hot tongue were torturing your little clit until your entire body started to lock up.

You looked at him desperately, unsure what was even going through your mind besides him and how fucking good you felt right now. 

Just as you teetered on the edge of this orgasm, he suddenly changed up and swallowed your twitchy little clit into his mouth. He sucked, sending you flying over the edge with a shrill wail of his name. Your legs kicked and twitched, heels hitting him on the back as you trembled and shook through the orgasm that he eagerly fucked out of you onto his fingers. 

He suckled your clit, swirling his tongue around it until it was too sensitive and you were tearily pushing him away. When he finally released you, slipping his fingers from your cunt, you were boneless and twitching on the bed. You didn’t even try to close your legs when he pulled away, giving him the perfect view to watch your cute little pussy clench and messily drool cum in the aftermath of your orgasm. 

He popped his fingers in his mouth, eyes rolling and lashes fluttering at the taste of your cum tingling on his taste buds. As you came down, eyes closed and breathing heavy, he began pulling at his belt. 

You could hear the metal clinking as he dropped it to the floor, peeking your heavy lids open to see him pull the button of his jeans open. As he slowly pulled them down, his underwear went with and suddenly you were more aware than ever. 

His cock was something to behold. Thick and veiny, bobbing in the air where it hung – too heavy to actually stand upright. You’d seen dicks in porn before but none of them prepared you for Simon’s. Precum dribbled from the tip, creating a long, gooey string down towards the floor before it broke. 

He wrapped a big hand around himself, giving a few good strokes as he reached down to cup his own heavy balls. The hair wasn’t wild or offensive, but neatly trimmed short. 

“All good, lovie?” he asked, stepping out of the pool of his jeans and boxers so he could kneel on the bed again.

“All god-good!” you blushed as he laughed, leaning down over you to balance his weight on his elbows.

“You still want this?” he asks, hushed and sweet, 

You glance between your bodies to see that intimidating cock, drooling messily over your skin. You realize, quickly, that you’ve never wanted anything more in your life.

When you voice such, he looks relieved, like a weight was lifted off of his shoulders. He sits back on his heels and spreads your legs, pushing your knees up to your chest.

“Hold them there,” he orders, which you follow immediately. 

Your elbows circle around your knees, holding yourself open for him as he asked. He whistles low in appreciation when your cum-slicked cunt was spread and exposed for him to prod his cockhead against. 

He swipes the tip up and down through your folds, humming appreciatively when your little hole tries to suck him in every time he grazes past it. He nudges your clit, the little bud still hard and sensitive from your orgasm but so eager for more. He couldn’t wait to grant your wish and make you cream on his cock. 

You watch him with wide eyes as he starts to push into you. Your jaw drops as you feel that burning stretch, an ache settling between your legs as he continues to sink himself into you. 

“F-Fuck, wait, Simon!” you squeal and he halts immediately. 

He’s only reached just past the head of his cock but he reaches down to pet your clit. The pleasure shoots through you, making your toes curl and your walls relax around him. He keeps his eyes on your face for any sign that you want him to stop as he moves his hips again. 

More and more of his cock sinks inside and his thumb keeps working little circles over your clit until his hips are flush with yours. Your voice breaks as you moan when you realize you’ve taken every single inch of him. 

He’s heavy and throbbing inside of you and you clench around him intentionally, forcing a moan from his chest. 

He leans down, arranging your knees over his shoulders, folding you up and pressing down on  you. He’s heavy and it makes it hard to breathe but that makes it even better – the pleasure of being speared on that fat cock and being utterly helpless underneath this man is better than any fantasy you could have made for yourself. 

“Fuck,” he snarls, rolling his hips back before rocking them forward again, heavy balls slapping against you as he does, “Can’t believe you were gonna give this little cunt away to some prick.”

“S-Si,” you whimper, biting your lip at the feeling of him slowly and carefully rocking his hips against yours, “‘M sorry, sh-shoulda been you all this time.”

“That’s fuckin’ right,” he hums, “No one else gets to love you but me, sweetheart.”

“O-Only you!” you agree, nails digging into his shoulders when he hits that spot just right. 

He can feel you soaking his cock, drippy cum lathering him up to make every glide of his cock wetter than the last. He sits back up on his knees, adjusting his grip so he can pin your legs wide open, giving him the best view of your greedy cunt swallowing his length up. 

He begins to fuck you in earnest, pulling out halfway before sliding home again - nothing like the little movements he gave you to prepare you. He was going to show you exactly why you should only think of giving him this precious pussy for the rest of your life. No one will ever be able to fuck you as good as he can, he’s going to learn your body like the back of your hand and you’re never going to be able to cum as hard as you can with him. You’ll never even want to use your own fingers again when he’s done with you. 

You can’t do anything but lay there and take it, take the pleasure and take his cock. He hits so deep, prodding at your cervix in a way that aches but it only feels that much better when it’s mixed with mind-numbing pleasure. 

Simon looms above you, panting and groaning as he fucks you like he was made to. He angles his hips just right, blunt nails biting into your thighs where he pins you open, neither of you caring if he happens to break skin while he does. You don’t even register the bite of pain underneath the way his cock prods you g-spot so perfectly. 

Your own fingers would have been tired by now, no longer able to work that little spot like you need. Simon’s cock, however, is unrelenting. The pleasure builds and mounts uninterrupted, every stroke of his length sending you higher. His body moves fluidly, rolling his hips tirelessly so he can give you every ounce of pleasure your sweet little cunt needs. 

You’re creaming around him, a frothy, milky ring forming around the base every time he sinks in and becoming visible when he pulls back. It’s filthy and messy and makes your cheeks burn but Simon seems to not mind in the slightest.

“So fuckin’ messy, love,” he coos, breathy and slurred, “Look at that, pretty cunt needed some cock, huh?”

“Y-Yours!” you manage to choke out.

“What’s that?” he asks, a crooked, teasing grin on his face. 

“Y-Your cock! Only needed your cock, Simon,” you pant, reaching up to grope your own tits, pinching and rolling your nipples meanly. It hurts so good, making you clench around his cock. He moans at the sight, his pretty little virgin tormenting your own nipples.

“That’s right,” he hums, reaching a shaky hand down to thumb at your clit, “Keep pinchin’ those pretty tits, sweetheart. Don’t stop.”

You nod your head, unable to form a vocal response from the new sensation of your clit being played with while he fucks you. It feels so damn good that you could go drunk from it all. Everything in your brain is slow, thoughts of only him and how good you feel are all that’s there. Your entire world, right at this moment, revolves around Simon Riley. 

He knows it too, a cocky grin on his face as he works you to your orgasm. You dangle, almost helplessly, staring unblinkingly at his handsome face as he works it out of you. 

After what feels like minutes, but is probably only seconds, you cum. Hard.

Your head slams back against the pillows, back arching as you cunt clasps tight around him. You cry out in pure, unadulterated pleasure as he fucks you through it. His thumb keeps working your clit as it twitches and pulses under the digit, cumming nice and pretty for him just like he wanted. Just like you deserved. 

You cream his cock messily, it drips down his balls and down your ass to the bedding below. So fucking sloppy and wet, a perfect little cunt made to take his cock. 

His brows furrow, mouth falling open as his own orgasm mounts and builds. Now that your well-earned orgasm is out of the way, he can finally let go and allow himself to experience it as well.

“Where do you want it?” he grits out, teeth clenched from the ache of holding back.

His balls draw up, heavy and full. He feels ready to positively explode when you gasp, “I-Inside!”

His head falls back, the loudest, most drawn out moan you’d never expected to come from a stoic man like Simon falling from his lips. It’s deep and primal, full of nothing but euphoria as he spills into you. His load is hot and thick, drooling out of the sides of his cock as he slows his thrusts to milk the least bits of pleasure from the orgasm. 

When he comes down, he collapses. Your legs lock around his waist and he draws you tightly into his arms, neither of you caring for the way his weight crushes you. All you care about is being wrapped up in his arms where you belong. 

He pulls his neck from your chest and kisses your forehead. Then he kisses your nose. Then your lips. 

“Pretty,” he breathes, still drunk on the endorphins of the sex so his lips are a little looser than they’d normally be, “Always thought you were pretty.”

“Really?” you prompt, cheeks heating at his confession. 

He hums, “Glad you’re finally mine.”

You beam, “No one deserved me as much as you.”

He nods as if it’s the most obvious statement in the world, rolling off of you with a sigh. His cock unplugs your cunt and a gush of your mixed cum comes out, making you whine. He laughs softly, drawing you back into your arms. 

You’ve never felt safer and warmer in your life, knowing in that moment that you should have come to Simon all along. There’s no one in the world who would be there for you, more willing and able than he. 

this work belongs to rowarn. do not repost to third party websites or use for character ai. reblogs welcome and appreciated!

[inevesgf]

jealousy, jealousy • lando norris

request rules here.

formula one masterlist here.

synopsis ➔ two close friends ignore their love for each other until it becomes too much to handle for one of them.

warnings ⭒ lonnggg, kind of angst/comfort, swearing, use of she/her, driver x female!reader, driver x race engineer!reader, mentions of sex, jealous lando wink wink.

you searched in all different types of nooks and crannys in the world to find love. desperately grasping at the idea, peaking in places to find that good in the bad. but it was hard, you knew that, time and time again you were reminded of why you shut yourself out so much. the worry, the pain — in the end you thought maybe the good times didn’t even make up for the bad ones. you had plenty of misfortune in your love life throughout the years, whether it was your fault or your partners. you found yourself becoming picky: a perfectionist to the love you receive when the love you gave wasn’t quite good enough either. it had come to the point where you became so detached from finding that perfect person. you stopped searching and stood silent like a predator in a bush waiting to catch its prey.

love comes unexpectedly, you had heard that saying plenty of times before that now you have come to believe it. you stopped wasting nights on men that didn’t matter, you stopped trying to impress people — you were just yourself. as years past, friends found themselves shocked at the idea that you would date someone. they saw you as headstrong, independent, and the thought of you in love made them question if they were dreaming. you didn’t want to be seen like some hopeless romantic — someone who didn’t want to love — but you didn’t want to seem desperate either. it seemed as if not even the perfect medium of those two was reachable where you had now hid yourself.

you had been single for a few years now and even if you didn’t want to admit it, you missed being in a relationship. those around you saw you as independent, someone who didn’t need a man, but the need was more of something your heart wanted. you loved too hard, it’s what got you hurt in the end, and as much as you tried to fight it off, it was still there. you masked yourself with a facade that you were too good for any man, that you didn’t want them falling at your feet and nor would you fall at theirs. love was complicated, embarrassing, and you couldn’t even come to fathom the situation you had wiggled yourself into.

you had found yourself in a world full of men, smack dab in the middle of being an engineer for mercedes in the formula one. you took your job seriously and didn’t let much get in the way, but to admit you were far more than just an engineer to some of those men; a friend at that. you found yourself being invited to parties by the FIA, other formula one racing teams, and some of the drivers individually. while you weren’t totally the party type, you didn’t hate the idea of tagging along every now and then. while working for formula one, you put your gaze nowhere else but forward. it was distracting being constantly surrounded by the media, those with higher positions, and even sometimes all-too-good-looking race car drivers. you would never let something so silly get in the way of your position, but sometimes with a little bit of liquid courage, things happen.

“can you hand me my cologne?” the voice of lando norris boomed throughout the hotel room as you cladded your way to the bathroom before handing it to him. “i don’t think i’ve ever seen you dress so fancy.” he raised his brow at you, making you scoff as you shooed him away. “i mean — if the event calls for it, i will. but after this, you’ll never see me in kitten heels again if it was up to me.” you laughed, adjusting the straps of your black dress to sit more on your shoulders. roaming throughout the paddocks before races and on practice days, you had found yourself making friends with drivers simply from running into them. lando norris was one of those drivers, and now you wear the not-so-honorary title of being one of his best friends. though with lando, there were things you did that made you more than best friends: dancing in the rain, snuggling while watching a movie. there was something so romantic about it, but in your manor, you brushed it off as an act of friendship. “you look nice, though.” he sheepishly smiled, combing the curls on the top of his head back neatly. “well thank you —“ you said sincerely before checking the time, “now hurry up, we’re going to be late!”

an event held by the FIA to bring racers and race crew alike together was something you weren’t completely looking forward too. you liked your crew just enough to be alongside them, but not having to see them outside of work was sure a pleasantry. the night was spent with downing shots, doing anything to drown out the despair of being there. you didn’t think your actions would have consequences until the next morning when you found yourself waking up in an unfamiliar bed. you thought maybe it was inevitable to happen; after a few drinks, your worries and cares floated away. when you were intoxicated, you didn’t care who you were with, you didn’t care what you were doing, all you wanted to do was have fun — and fun you had as you turned around in the bed to be met with a curly headed man.

“good morning,” he smiled sheepishly, his eyes squinting to adjust to the sunlight peeking in through the windows. “good morning, danny.” you smiled softly, a tang of embarrassment lingering on your naked skin from under the blanket. daniel ricciardo was a close friend of yours. with you similar humor, it was easy to say that your personalities clashed very well together. you had always had some eyes for the driver, i mean, there was no denying he was handsome. when in groups, it’s like you two gravitated towards each other, always getting along the most. it was awkward seeing daniel in this sense, but part of you liked it. it didn’t feel as much of a stupid mistake like other drunk hookups had; this one felt comfortable. when his eyes finally adjusted to the light in the room, he smiled at you. you smiled back, a little bit of a nervous laugh falling from your lips.

you were lying if you were to say this was the last and only time you had found yourself in daniel’s bed. you would hangout, put on a movie, have drinks, and on some occasions, you’d end up in his bed. it was more friends with benefits than anything, but you couldn’t help but feel safe and respected in his presence. it was a late friday night, around ten pm, where you found yourself sitting atop danny’s lap as some disney movie played in the background. you were falling asleep gradually as time went on and was only snapped out of your tired state when you received a text message from lando.

lalando

➔ can i come over pretty please

you

im sorry lan im not home rn :(

lalando

➔ where are you?

you

GEEZ nosey much?

im at danny’s

lalando

➔ what time will you be home?

you

im not sure, i’ll lyk

you ask sooo many questions

lalando

➔ smh cut me some slack

➔ sorry i want to hangout with

my bestest friend everrr

➔ do you want me to just come

over in the morning then?

you

i don’t know when i’ll be home

im sorry lan

lalando

➔ nono its ok, don’t worry

➔ WAIT

➔ YOU DONT KNOW WHEN

YOULL BE HOME? IN THE MORNING?

➔ ARE YOU SPENDING THE NIGHT

AT DANIELS PLACE?!?!?

seen at 10:24pm

a small laugh escaped your lips as you read landos frantic confusion. you were sure he would pelt with you hundreds of questions tomorrow and you knew exactly what you had to do: deny, deny, deny. lando and your other friends always tried to pry personal information out of you: deep secrets, hookup stories — you thought it was funny. you prided yourself on being a partially opened book. people knew things about you, but not too much, and you wanted to keep it that way.

a cozy night spent at danny’s laying in bed and watching a movie was something you looked forward to. sometimes it had you questioning if you liked him. it was a funny thought, a silly one, especially considering most dates didn’t go anywhere besides the bedroom. it was basically written in ink that you and daniel were merely fuck buddies and nothing else. you two had mutual respect for each other, but that respect wasn’t enough to do anything more than just please the other. you liked it this way and so did danny. you enjoyed it, but deep down you couldn’t help but wish it was someone else. all those years you spent desperately craving a relationship now put you in a place where you didn’t care. you were young — you had to try new things — and maybe even so sleeping with a driver on a rival team would point you in the right direction.

days had went on and you found yourself once again at daniel’s house. this time he had invited you over to hangout with a few of his friends, have some drinks, and get to know each other. he swore they would like you and you used this as a way to get out of the house and meet new people. it was a bit awkward. all the others surrounded around the living area knew each other and their life stories, but you sat there out of place begging for an escape. daniel had disappeared for a bit before he resurfaced in a corner chatting up a group of guys who’s name you couldn’t remember. it didn’t matter to you though, he was enjoying himself so you simply took time to relax. a notification appeared on your phone, another text from lando, with one simple request.

lalando

➔ do you to go out for drinks tonight?

you

again IM SORRY im busy right now,

but i owe you

lalando

➔ busy doing what? daniel?

you

SHUT UP and no actually

not like i was doing him in the first place

lalando

➔ sure sure ok, lie to my face

you

geez ok, calm down lan

come over tomorrow for lunch

lalando

➔ fine, i’ll see you then

seen at 9:34pm

lando’s seemingly jealous manner had you laughing to yourself when your brain started to drift somewhere maybe it shouldn’t. you had known lando since the beginning of your career. you remember the day you full body bumped into him in the paddock, resulting in you two having a laughing fit. something from there told you that you would be good friends, but you couldn’t grasp if thats what it really was. you recalled all that you had done together: going out for dinner, having movie nights, talking about everything imaginable together. it made you question if what you had with lando was far from casual. he was your friend, but you knew friends didn’t long for each others company as he longed for yours.

pouring the sauce onto the noodles, you slid over a bowl of homemade alfredo pasta over to lando, handing him a fork to go along with it. “i feel like i’m just your personal chef now.” you spoke sarcastically, pouring a small bowl for yourself before grabbing a fork. “you would be if your cooking was better.” lando spoke plainly, shoving a bit of pasta into his mouth. “hey! that’s mean! why are you so sour, huh?” you scoffed, not thinking much of it as lando was always this sarcastic with you. “the only thing that’s sour are these noodles.” he spoke, taking yet another bite which had you staring blankly at him. “i’m obviously joking! cmon, you know i wouldn’t eat it if it was bad. you’re the best cook i know.” lando smiled over in your direction, making you sigh a little. “geez — you got me with that one. was starting to think you hated me, mr norris.” you spoke, trailing over to the bowl before picking it up and making your way over to the couch. like a sad puppy, lando grabbed his bowl and followed over, sitting himself right next to you. “i could never hate you!” “oh suuuuure—“ you laughed, placing the bowl onto the coffee table before grabbing the remote. you and lando did this several times a week. you’d order takeaway or make food, put on a tv show the two of you had been binging, and then get distracted by some irrelevant conversation between you too. it was like a cool down time from your hectic lives — some calm in the middle of a storm.

“i don’t even remember what’s happening—“ lando said mid chew, placing the empty bowl onto the coffee table. you gave him a disgusted look, one that read ‘chew before you speak’, before you responded, “it’s because last time we got distracted talking about cats.” “ok well — come here. this time we can pay attention.” lando spoke, opening his arms for you to lay into them. this sucked you back into your prior thoughts. your small hangouts — dates even — had turned into something more than they were before. “doubt that.” you muttered, letting yourself lay your head onto his lap even though you knew the consequences. you leaned your head to the side, attentively watching the show as lando chimed in every now and then to give his two-cents about what was happening. you two shared some laughs and conversations about the shows plot, but nothing off topic to get you two distracted from watching.

the last episode of season two was now coming to an end and you watched attentively to each event that occurred. you were only snapped out of your fixated reality once you noticed landos gaze had went from the tv to you. when your eyes met, you didn’t expect anything from lando until he spoke. “so what were you doing with danny last night?” he questioned, making you roll your eyes. “what happened to paying attention to the show?” you asked, dismissive of the conversation. “what did you two do? watch a movie? sleep with him?” lando spoke, completely ignoring what you had said. it made you a little upset, even though you knew he was most likely just teasing you. the tone in his voice was off, being more plain than sarcastic. “why do you care so much?” you asked, the conversation now merely banter between you two. “i don’t care — i just want to know!” lando was lying through his teeth now and you could tell. the way he delivered his words, the way he looked at you; he obviously just “didn’t care”.

“are you jealous?” the words feel from your lips so carelessly, so sharply. you didn’t know what overcame you, but something about lando being so nosey to your endeavors made you irritated. “i’m not jealous.” his words were plain and you had now sat up from your once laid down position to face him. words couldn’t form in your mouth. you didn’t know if you wanted to squeeze a confession out of him or make him speak for himself. “are you sure?” it was sort of a teasing manner that fell from your words, egging at him to speak a truth you weren’t sure you wanted to hear. “god—“ lando shot up from his seated position, making you jump back a little and look at him in confusion. “i am jealous, i am sooo fucking jealous.” his voice was louder now, loud enough for the neighbors to hear, his confession making fear grow in your friendship. “you’re all over him — always. you act all sweet and nice to me, you let me hold you — and then you fuck him. i don’t know what’s so different between him and i. i can be all the things he can be too!” “lando—“ you could barely mutter out words before he started again, his face slightly red as he spoke. “i don’t fucking care. you’re supposed to be mine.” his words stung, your lips holding back a gasp from escaping. you didnt know what to say, words not seeming to muster up from your mind. “you know what — i’ll leave. just go hangout with daniel. you’ve gotten good at that.” lando tried to leave, his hands clasping the doorknob to your apartment before you stood up. “i try to deny it, but i can’t anymore.” your words seem to catch his attention, his hand coming off the door and back to his side. “i tried to find another explanation for why i feel so safe with you; for why i always want to see you. i just plucked it up to you being my best friend, lando, but it’s not that. it’s not that anymore.” the words fell from your lips as if they were the last words you would ever say. you didn’t know what you were saying, all you knew is that you meant every word.

“you’re not making any sense.” lando spoke. he looked defeated, exhausted, like he was itching to get out of his skin. “i’m saying that i’m falling in love you with.” you didn’t tell lando what he wanted to hear, you told him what you wanted to say. a feeling of insecurity having nagged at you for a long time had finally become too much to handle; too hard to admit. you knew in your industry and position that you probably shouldn’t be saying these things; you knew you should have gotten out of the water before it got too deep — yet something about lando was like an anchor that had you sinking.

there was a long pause before any other words were said. it could have been a few seconds or a few minutes, you didn’t know. the quick pace of your heart beating had time moving so slow. lando approached you, now close enough to feel his shallowed breathing on your skin. “i’m sorry—“ it’s like he broke down, his voice brittle and hoarse. all you wanted to do was comfort him, but now the confident words that you had spoken so passionately couldn’t come out. “no, lan, it’s okay—“ you pulled him into a hug, resting your head into the crook of his neck as he seemingly cried. “i just couldn’t stand seeing him with you like that — i should have told you sooner. i shouldnt have yelled at you. i just don’t like the idea that he got to you hold like i do. i shouldn’t even be jealous, you aren’t even mine.” his arms wrapped loosely around your waist as he pulled back, red eyes with tears threatening to spill. “i know, i know — but it’s all okay now because i like you. i was too blind to see that what i had been looking for was right here the whole time. i feel stupid, but it’s okay, it’s what makes us human.” you tried to smile, it was what was needed at a time like this, and lando did his best to return it.

what was once a rival, a friend, a shoulder to cry on; anything but a lover, had now blossomed into something you had fought for so long. the pain of searching in every nook and cranny had now met you face to face with the hidden treasure you tried so hard to look for. “i love you—“ it was the mutter in the silence, the dark in the light, and you couldn’t help but feel like you found what you were looking for.

[ao3commentoftheday]

Do you have any advice on how not to give up on fic ideas just because you know they’ll be unpopular? I have ideas I’d love to write, but I’ll get three paragraphs into my first draft and quit because I can’t imagine anyone else enjoying it. Every time I get a fic that gets bad stats, it gets harder for me to go back to writing, even though I know it should be the opposite. I hate the idea of pouring my time and effort into a fic only to find out too late that everyone else thinks it’s worthless. I’ve tried blocking stats to try to fix this issue, but I think it’s already too deep in my head to be fixed—I really think readers will always value popular fic more than unpopular fic, and i feel so defeated knowing I always want to write fic no one else sees any value in.

I know a suggested solution is finding a fic community, but no one on Tumblr is ever interested, I’ve given up trying to figure out how to do fandom on Twitter, and everyone else is hidden away on private discords that they post in-jokes from in their fic notes, and I doubt I’ll ever be invited to join.

I think part of this issue is I feel lonely in fandom and seeing one fic after another fail just amplifies that feeling. But without any hope of being able to build connections, is there a way I can start to feel better about writing fic?

I agree that your loneliness in fandom seems to be the crux of your issue, but it might be loneliness beyond that as well?

I can't remember if it was tags or a reblog on a recent post, but someone was making the point that a lot of us in fandom are spoonies or some form of neurodivergent and that for a lot of us, fandom is where our socializing occurs.

But that doesn't have to be the case. You can find your community outside of fandom. You can find people who share a different hobby with you, people who are regulars at the same restaurant you often go to, people you often see at the library or the grocery store. Some of those people will be easier to talk to than others and some of those conversations will be one-offs instead of the basis for a friendship, but all of them will give you a feeling of connection even if it's just for a brief moment of time.

Right now, the purpose of your writing is to make a connection rather than to write a story that you want to tell. Your entire focus is on whether others will respond to it or not. It's hard to find your own enjoyment when the end goal that you're looking to isn't a finished fic but rather a reaction that will make you feel valued.

If what you're starving for right now is an end to the loneliness, then you'll need to tackle that separately from the writing. Look to the people you have in your life and reach out to them to spend time together - or just have a chat. Look at the spaces in your life that feel empty and invite someone in. Even just one person can relieve the ache of that loneliness, so take that as a first step.

Volunteering can be a great way to put yourself out there while giving yourself the cover of having work you need to do. Friendships form as a result of repeated interactions, so the structure of an organization can give you the opportunity for that. There are even organizations where you can volunteer online - the OTW is an example of one, but it's not the only one there is.

You clearly love writing, but right now writing is tangled up in all of these other emotions too. Try separating the writing from posting it online. Focus just on telling a story, and make it just for you. Find the things you enjoy in writing that have nothing to do with the eventual reader and spend your time leaning into those instead.

[percervall]

slipping through my fingers all the time — smau

Summary: A peek into the lives of girlypop and her gaggle of husbands Pairing: Kevin Magnussen x fem!reader, Lewis Hamilton x fem!reader, Mark Webber x fem!reader Warnings: none

images are all from pinterest, tumblr and instagram

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girlypop take all the time you need, peanut

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susie_wolff congratulations! you're gonna be the best mama ↳ girlypop thanks Susie!

jasmiine so happy for you guys! can't wait to be the best auntie for peanut! ↳ girlypop peanut is lucky to have you!

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kevinmagnussen welcome to the world Agnes. Your mummy and dads love you so much already

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oscarpiastri welcome little roo

carmenmundt congratulations!

mickshumacher laila and I will come visit soon! congrats sis 😉 liked by girlypop

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girlypop Agnes wanted to look at every single flower before picking her favourites for her dads. Happy father's day my loves

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jasmiine your husbands are the luckiest men ↳ lewishamilton oh, we know liked by aussiegrit and kevinmagnussen

landonorris glad to see the bucket hat is appreciated ✌🏼 liked by girlypop

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lewishamilton words cannot express how happy we are. welcome Margot, you are so loved already

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georgerussell63 congrats mate!

charles_lecerc congratulations! 👶🏼

sebastianvettel congratulations!

susie_wolff Agnes can't wait to meet her little sister! congrats you four, she's perfect

susie_wolff, lilyzneimer, and others liked this

girlypop getting so big already!

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sebastianvettel look at my goddaughter getting so strong! liked by girlypop

lailahasanovic 🏃🏼‍♀️ omw for some baby snuggles ↳mickshumacher 🏃🏼‍♂️ wait for me!

aussiegrit posted a new story!

↳ oscarpiastri good to know I am not the only one she's got wrapped around her finger ↳ fernandoalo_ofical she's got better moves than him! 😂 ↳ jasmiine i'd say sorry for turning my niece into a swifty but you're welcome feels more appropriate 😘

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girlypop whoever said it was a good idea to have a baby with a 6ft giant obviously has never been pregnant before

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jasmiine if you need me to 🧹 lmk ↳aussiegrit do I even want to know what this means? ↳jasmiine no✨

susie_wolff oh I know, it's the absolute worst! but, also worth it in the end liked by girlypop

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aussiegrit Our family felt incomplete without you. Welcome Luke

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jensonbutton congratulations man. fatherhood looks good on you liked by girlypop

fernandoalo_oficial congratulations!

oscarpiastri congrats old man! liked by girlypop and aussiegrit

fernandoalo_oficial, oscarpiastri and others liked this

girlypop @.brittnyward is this yours?

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brittnyward ah, so that's where he went. pls remind him to pick up dishwasher tablets liked by girlypop ↳girlypop will do babe!

lilyzneimer can't blame him! baby luke is the cuddliest baby ever! liked by girlypop

landonorris, mickshumacher and others liked this

girlypop this is what happens when Oscar and uncle LaLa look after Luke for the weekend 🤦🏼‍♀️

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oscarpiastri cheers mum 😶 this was all Lando ↳landonorris whats that supposed to mean? he looks like the coolest toddler on the grid! ↳jensonbutton he looks ready to take over quadrant liked by landonorris

lilyzneimer how did Agnes' race go? ↳aussiegrit she did so well! roo came third and was disappointed she didn't get to spray the champagne. pretty sure I saw nano cry ↳fernandoalo_oficial so did you cabrón liked by jensonbutton

the next time I decide to do a smau, I'd appreciate it if someone would remind me of just how long this took me

please let me know what you think. your comments, likes, and tags mean the absolute world to me 💜

[feinv]

can i kindly req for a arthur morgan x hyperfem reader.... pov he is just so so so in live with her...

arthur morgan x hyperfem!reader.

a/n. introducing my other hyperfixation on this blog. hope this won’t flop. if you don’t wanna see this you can block these tags! hope you like this dolly <3

arthur morgan is a romantic.

spending the majority of his life being without a significant other, he kept repressing all those emotions. and repressing just made them stronger.

but lucky for him he has you!

he doesn’t understand why a sweet thing like you would even look at his direction. but you did. and he wasn’t a fool to let you go after that. he absolutely gives you princess treatment. will do like. literally anything just to see you smile.

arthur loves taking you to beautiful places he encountered while riding around. seeing your eyes sparkle and that pretty smile you flush him is enough for him to die a happy man right there next to you.

he is absolutely feral at how adorable you look. like all the time. we all know 1800s underwears were like just a plain white fabric. but you still managed to stitch them up in a certain way and add a few small bows to make them look cuter! he is honestly so amazed that nothing ever stops you from doing your girly things, and he is always there to tell you that you did a good job and it looks perfect <3

he loves showing you off, especially when he knows he has the pleasure of calling you his. he will do any dirty job and hard labor just to get money and buy you anything you want.

he knows it's hard feeling beautiful when you have limited resources in a camp. so he would buy you whatever clothes you want, whatever jewelry and accessories you look at for more than five seconds when he takes you to a town. (he might even steal some really expensive ones and tell you he traded for those)

of course he would think you look gorgeous even if your entire face was covered in dirt and mud. but it matters to him that you feel happy and confident in yourself. and it's his mission to fulfill that goal for as long as he alive.

every time he would bring back a little something that reminded him of you — a book, a small painting, perfumes that smell just like you, and everything else in between.

he would help you with chores however he can just to ease some of your work and have more alone time together. the boys would tease him for being "a housewife," but he wouldn't give a shit. he might as well do every single of your chores if it meant he would have you all to himself in the confines of his tent.

showers you in compliments. all day 24/7. he knows the words will eventually fail him because he physically cannot tell u how infatuated he is with you and how flawless you are to him. but he will try either way.

“you are the most beautiful person ever, darlin'. my pretty girl,” while his fingers gently tuck hair away from your face, his thumb soothing your soft skin. and you would blush and avert his gaze because like :< but he would simply pepper feather light kisses all over your face before connecting your lips in such a tender kiss you would forget that’s a 6 feet tall ripped cowboy.

his side bag and some of his clothes in general would have small hearts or bows engraved in them with pink thread. every time he looks at them he gets reminded there is someone waiting for him to come back. and his heart just swells at that thought.

would also sneak you away from the camp to a pretty field where the two of you could just stargaze together or lay on the grass for hours. you would ramble about your day while he sketches you, your sweet voice literally making him float in the clouds.

arthur morgan loves being around you, being with you. you don't even have to be doing anything together, he just loves having you near him, close and safe :3

©️feinv, 2024.

[lau219]

I want to apologize in advance, you guys — I know I said this would be a one shot, but this got so long that I’m deciding to break it up.

Also, I only tagged a few peeps because I didn’t want to be presumptuous, but please let me know if you’d like to be tagged in the next part.

I really hope you guys like this first part. Please leave a comment to let me know what you think!

It Should Have Been You

•• Tom (The Party) x Reader ••

Part 1

She was an angel; an absolute gem. So perfect and so sweet. And from the very first time they’d met, he’d immediately been drawn to her.

Of course, it was her looks that first got his attention – she was the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen, and he could not take his eyes off her as she stood before him. Even after Janet had concluded the introductions between the two of them and bustled her around to the other people at the large gathering, his eyes followed her discreetly, drinking in her beautiful smile, her bright eyes, and her plump cheeks, which grew adorably red with a blush each time she was introduced to another person. Her lithe body and long hair made him think things he shouldn’t have been thinking, and when she looked up and their eyes met across the room, she blushed furiously and gave him a sweet little smile before turning back to the person who’d pulled her into a conversation.

As their eyes had met, he’d felt his blood rush through his body, and as beautiful as she was, he then knew in the instant she smiled at him like that, that she wasn’t one of them. No, she was like him. He could also sense that she couldn’t be anything other than sweet and humble, and he soon learned that that assessment was completely spot on.

​It was this sweetness and modesty that then drew him to her even more, which he experienced more of every time they crossed paths. It was clear that she was completely oblivious to how beautiful she was. Either that, or she didn’t place any stock in her looks, which was so endearing and unlike the many other women who used their looks to get them favors, especially in these circumstances, where they were often around powerful, wealthy, and influential people. Any time she received a compliment or caught someone’s eye, she would nervously brush it off with an embarrassed and shy laugh and would then immediately try to take the attention off herself. She was always asking after others instead, and offering to help in any way she could. Her warmth and sweetness were genuine and made her so endearing, and he found himself craving to be around her, imagining the bliss it would be if she was his.

​A bond formed between them the more that time went on. As Janet’s favorite (and only) niece, Y/N was often in attendance when Janet had first dipped her toe into the political pool, wanting to offer her aunt, who she loved so dearly, moral support and assistance in her endeavors in any way she could.

However, she truthfully had no interest in the mindless small talk and phony, surface level friendships that came with the territory of all this. Always courteous and lovely, though, she would do her duty of meeting and engaging in a bit of polite chatter with people at each event before she’d then slip away to the back of the room and people watch or spend time with the other friends and supporters of Janet who also had no real interest in the whole charade. Either that, or she’d busy herself with tasks to help keep the gathering running smoothly. She was always friendly and polite, even with the less than appealing guests or the other men whose eye she’d caught, but it was clear that if Janet hadn’t been involved, Y/N would never have been a part of any of this. And that, right there, was the basis of their connection, as Tom was in the exact same boat.

He didn’t belong here, really, and neither did she – she was too sweet, pure, and genuine for any of this, and he couldn’t tolerate the phony bullshit, two-faced people, or the constant act everyone put on, his wife being the prime example of all those things. To these people, it was all about status and appearance, and it was almost sickening. The only saving grace Tom found every time Marianne forced him to attend another event was knowing that he’d see Y/N there.

They’d inevitably find themselves together, gravitating towards each other and bonding over their shared secret distaste for it all. While incredibly lovely, Tom had discovered in a fairly short amount of time that she was also witty and funny, and as sweet as she was, she wasn’t above secretly poking fun at the more ridiculous people or their behavior. Numerous times, she’d surprised him with an unexpectedly smart or cutting remark about something or someone, and they shared a laugh before then passing the time discussing any and every other topic under the sun, being each other’s breath of fresh air from these suffocating parties.

No one seemed to notice, either, which was very fortunate, considering that Janet and Marianne were adversely under the microscope. They could spend the entire evening together at the back of the room, and no one seemed to care. Even Marianne, whose only concern was that Tom didn’t embarrass her or pester her about when they’d be able to leave. As long as he stayed out of the way, she didn’t care what he did or where he was, and the mutual hatred that had started forming between her and Tom long ago only increased as time went by. But then Janet had begun her campaign, and they’d remained married due to the need for Marianne to keep up appearances. A divorce right as Janet tried to ascend would only look bad.

Nothing had changed over the months, though, and things had in fact gotten worse as Janet progressed and Marianne became even more resentful of Tom, and he was miserable. Now, a year later, along with still pretending his marriage was a happy one and enduring the continuous criticism from Marianne, his experimentation with cocaine to help deal with the stress had started to get out of hand, and he'd begun failing at work and blowing money left and right, alternating between getting high and wallowing. And every time he saw Y/N, it only made it worse, because he grew even more infatuated with her. He desperately wondered why the powers that be had been so cruel as to have kept her from him until this low point in his life. If only he’d met her first, instead of Marianne. And even though he knew she was too good for him, he couldn’t stop wanting her.

But tonight...tonight would be different. After an explosive argument with Marianne this afternoon and the decision of divorce finally settled, Tom was set on finally letting everyone know that he and Y/N were in love, and ending the pathetic act that he and Marianne were. Screw any decency of waiting for the campaign to be fully completed or the divorce to be official – he owed it to himself and Y/N to finally do what he knew they both wanted.

So what if he was using every hour, on the hour, now? So what if he was a breath away from losing his job? So what if he currently only had double digits in the bank account? And so what if Y/N had rejected the entire idea, multiple times. As soon as he announced their love, all of that would change, he was certain of it. She’d give in and they’d take care of each other, and he’d become the man that she deserved.

As he wiped the remnants of the white powder from his nose and licked it from his fingers, he made the decision that nothing would stop him tonight from finally making her his. Then everything would be alright.

•.•.•.•.•

“Who all is coming tonight?” Y/N asked Janet as she helped her smooth out the tablecloth.

They were preparing for a gathering at Janet and Bill’s house to celebrate the victory Janet had secured. Yes, it wasn’t completely official yet, but there were only some t’s to cross and i’s to dot, and then it would be, and so Janet had decided there was no point in waiting to celebrate. They’d invited a group of about 30 people to cram into the house and spread out into the garden, and as Y/N helped her prepare for the evening, she smiled as Janet rattled off the names of everyone who’d confirmed their attendance.

“Oh, and Marianne and Tom of course,” Janet added at the end.

Y/N’s heart skipped a beat.

“Tom’s coming?” she asked nervously.

“Yes,” Janet replied with a slightly confused look. “Why wouldn’t he be?”

Y/N shook her head, trying to look dismissive.

“I just assumed he wouldn’t make it since the party starts at 4. I figured he’d still be working, and I know Marianne has told him not to come straight from work to any of these functions. She said he always shows up rushed and preoccupied when he comes straight from the office.”

Janet shrugged her shoulders.

“Well, she must have changed her mind, because she confirmed earlier that they’re both coming.”

At that, Y/N remained silent, just nodding her head, but secretly, she was now extremely tense.

Over the last few months, Tom had been concerningly scattered and unpredictable, and his behavior had started to make her uneasy; scared, even. While he’d always been a little intense, that was initially part of what made him so charming. But lately, he’d become a different person, and she was concerned about the changes she’d noticed in him and the insistent way he kept hounding her. Things were getting out of control.

When they’d first met a year ago, he was a lot less stressed, a lot more jovial, and a lot less quick to anger. Back then, he gave off a much more collected and confident vibe, and as their eyes had met when Janet introduced them for the first time, Y/N’s breath had hitched in her throat at the immediate connection she felt upon shaking his hand. In a room surrounded by fake, uptight people, it felt like he’d truly seen her, and like she’d truly seen him. She’d immediately blushed, taken aback not only by this connection, but by him.

He was devastatingly handsome and so charming, and Y/N admonished herself for suddenly being very jealous of Marianne upon meeting him. As she’d been paraded around the room by Janet afterwards, she had felt someone watching her, and when she looked up and her eyes met Tom’s, she felt her heart pounding as she gave him a little smile. Marianne was one lucky woman.

But initially, she’d forced herself to suppress those thoughts. He was married, after all, and to Janet’s right-hand woman, no less. Y/N knew she was also was very different from Marianne, and she figured Tom was accustomed to having a fabulous wife with a loud personality who relished in the spotlight of this kind of lifestyle.

Their interactions had been minimal at first, but as a couple months passed and they continually crossed paths, Y/N came to find that Tom actually had the same secret distaste for all of this that she did. He hated disingenuity and boastfulness as much as she did. And although his job was impressive and important, and he was very good at it, he wasn’t boastful about any of it.

While Y/N was thrilled to help and support Janet and enjoyed the connections she made with the few genuine people she encountered throughout all this, it was all far beyond the more humble persona she had. The personalities and facades of most of these people made it difficult to be around them for long periods of time, and so, after her due diligence of introductions and polite small talk, she would try to disappear into the background at these events. She’d set up camp at the back of the room, and slowly but surely, to her surprise, Tom would gravitate to wherever she was, and they would have their own party of two, talking and laughing, bonding over their experiences through all of this and conversing about anything and everything. They also relished in a bit of roasting those around them at parties and functions, and she felt like they kept each other sane during those times. She came to find him refreshingly interesting and not at all boring, quick with a joke, and very much the gentleman. But there was also an underlying intensity about him that quietly called to her, and when he’d look at her with those piercing eyes, her heart never failed to skip a beat. He always made her nervous, but in a thrilling way, and she was soon always wondering when she’d see him next. She knew she had no business having the thoughts about him that she did, but she couldn’t help it.

As they got to know each other better, her care for him also grew, especially because she could tell that, underneath all this, he wasn’t quite happy. She soon came to find out through overheard conversations between Janet and Bill that he and Marianne’s marriage was basically a sham. As well as they hid it, their marriage was severely strained, and once she was made aware of that, it became all too obvious whenever she saw them together.

She felt bad for Tom, Marianne’s annoyance with him clear, and all simply because he didn’t play into the same phoniness and superficial behavior that she did. She resented him for that, and it clearly caused Tom a lot of stress and aggravation that he didn’t deserve. It made Y/N wonder why they’d ever gotten married in the first place, and from what she gathered in bits and pieces, they’d been together since university, and while it wasn’t a perfect match for either of them, it was convenient and, on paper, a good union, and both of their (wealthy) families expected them to marry, so that’s what they did.

Y/N always tried to be extra kind to him, seeing his stress unveil itself more and more, bit by bit as the campaign had carried on and Marianne became even more critical of him, even labeling him as an embarrassment during an argument Y/N had overheard. She felt terrible, and all she wanted to do was comfort him and assure him that he was anything but, however, she knew that wouldn’t be appropriate. But when he came back into the room and their eyes met, she had walked up to him and hugged him before she could stop herself, and no one had even noticed as they’d momentarily embraced. It felt so good to hug him and comfort him, and she found herself wishing she had the right to touch him, be there for him, whenever she wanted. What she didn’t know was that he’d been thinking the exact same thing about her. From then on, something changed between them and their interactions became subtly more intimate.

It was nothing that crossed the line, per se, but there were suddenly a lot more touches, a lot more close whispers, and a lot more outright flirting. Y/N knew she shouldn’t be acting this way with him, but she couldn’t help it. She wished she could be with him, take care of him. She tried to ignore it for a long time, knowing how inappropriate it was, but she was falling in love with him.

However, she kept it to herself, because as much as she and Tom enjoyed each other’s company, she figured that his behavior towards her was simply how any man would react. If someone flirted with you, you flirted back, right? She didn’t realize that Tom’s feelings for her actually matched her own for him. Yes, they’d become good friends, but she’d figured her deeper feelings were one-sided, and that all the attention he gave her was mostly a result of his seeking any kind of positive interaction with a woman he could get after so much harshness from Marianne.

But even if all of that weren’t true, it still wasn’t appropriate — he was married, and although she knew the marriage was a charade, it was still a marriage. Not to mention the drama that would unfold if anything did happen between them, and then it was discovered that Marianne’s husband and Janet’s niece had been fooling around. It would be a mini scandal. And so Y/N refused to let anything go beyond flirting.

But something else had also changed ever since that day she’d hugged Tom. He suddenly became more scattered and less reliable when showing up for functions, more irritable and jumpy when he did show up, and much more quick to anger, always seeming to be aggravated and on edge to some degree. He would be incredibly sweet one minute and filled with hatred the next, and she didn’t know how to register the way he’d look at her whenever their eyes met. He seemed to always be on the verge of snapping, and one afternoon when she’d accidentally walked in on him in the bathroom in Janet and Marianne’s office, she found out why.

“What are you doing?!” she’d whispered loudly to him as she saw him whip his head around from the thin line of white powder he had been forming on the edge of the sink. “Is that what I think it is?”

Staring at her for a moment before sniffling and then turning back around, he spoke.

“Just get out of here,” he’d snapped in response, and she was taken aback by his rough tone. She’d recently witnessed him snap like that at others, but he’d never spoken to her like that before.

“Tom...”

“I said get out!” he shouted at her, and she jumped, but stayed where she was. It was silent for a moment as she watched him continue to form the line.

“Why are you doing that?” she asked quietly.

“Why?” he repeated her. “Because my life is a fucking joke, I’m a fucking loser, and this is the only thing that helps me forget that for a moment.”

Once again shocked at his words and behavior, she didn’t know what to say.

“You’re not a loser,” she finally replied quietly.

“Yes, I am,” he said, tapping the credit card he was using to shape the powder on the sink before swiping his fingers over it and licking them clean.

“No, you’re not. And your life’s not a joke.”

He didn’t respond, and once again, it was silent for a moment as she watched him bend over and quickly snort the line. Her heart pounded as he stood back up.

“How...how long have you been using that stuff?” she asked him quietly.

“Who fucking cares?” he said as he wiped his nose and looked in the mirror.

“I do,” she replied. “Tom, that’s...you shouldn’t be doing that. How long has this been going on?”

Finally turning to face her, their eyes met, and she swallowed nervously.

“What’s going on with you?” she said cautiously.

He tilted his head.

“As if you don’t know, little Miss Perfect,” he said mockingly, and she was once again taken aback by his behavior. “I’m a complete loser, my marriage is a sham, I can’t have the woman I do love, I’m one bad business deal away from losing my job, and I spend every free moment of my time around fake assholes who make me sick to think we coexist. That’s what’s going on with me!”

Inhaling nervously as she looked back at him, Y/N didn’t know which declaration he’d made to try and process first. She was still trying to wrap her head around the fact that he was doing drugs. Had he been using the entire time she’d known him?

His anger was palpable, and she knew she shouldn’t push him, but she couldn’t stop herself from speaking again.

“You’re not a loser,” she repeated herself. “And...and I know you and Marianne are struggling, but you won’t have to pretend much longer. I know you’re stressed, but this is…” she paused and gestured to the remnants of coke on the sink, “…this isn’t the way to deal with it. And as far as this...this other...woman...,” she couldn’t finish, knowing she had no right but hating the idea of him being in love with someone else. It just rubbed salt in the wound.

At her hesitance, Tom scoffed in annoyed disbelief, and when he began to walk towards her, she nervously backed up a step, the look in his eyes disarming.

“Don’t play dumb, Y/N,” he said, his face inches from hers.

Her heart still pounding, she swallowed nervously.

“Play dumb about what?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

His eyes moving over hers for just a moment, Tom then roughly wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her to him. Without warning, he forcefully planted his mouth on hers, and Y/N released a high squeal of surprise as he covered her lips. Reaching up and grasping his arms, Y/N mindlessly let him kiss her, but before she could begin thinking clearly again, Tom pulled his mouth away from hers and stepped back.

“It should have been you,” he said, looking into her eyes, and Y/N was speechless as he then reached for the handle and opened the door, walking out of the bathroom as she stood there, still frozen in shock.

•.•.•.•.•

“Will you do me a favor and answer the door as people begin arriving?” Janet asked Y/N as she was brought back to the present. “I want to stay in here and make sure the food finishes properly.”

“Ummm, yes, of course,” Y/N replied, trying to appear as if everything was normal.

She was incredibly nervous to see Tom. Ever since the afternoon he’d kissed her, things between them had only gotten crazier. She still couldn’t believe he’d been doing coke, and still hadn’t known how to react to their kiss or what he’d said. Under normal circumstances, she would have been elated, but nothing about this was normal.

The next time they’d seen each other, she’d avoided him and tried not to even make eye contact. But after a while, he’d unexpectedly isolated her in the hallway near the bathroom, and he bombarded her with an interrogation, his anger obvious, and she was suddenly scared.

“So you’re avoiding me now, are you?” he demanded.

She could instantly tell that he’d been using, and her heart pounded as she finally looked at him.

“I’m not avoiding you; I’m keeping the appropriate distance between us,” she replied.

“And why is distance appropriate?”

“Because I don’t think I even know who you are. And because you’re married!”

“Only on paper,” he replied.

“That doesn’t matter! This is wrong. You’re here with your wife, and you’re high, Tom! I can see it right now! And until last week, I never knew that you used, or that you...that you...”

“That I love you,” he finished.

Y/N shook her head, even though that’s what she couldn’t bring herself to say.

“No, you don’t. You don’t even know what you’re saying. You’re high.”

“Not so high that I don’t know the truth. And that’s that I love you.”

Y/N shook her head again.

“You can’t tell me it’s really that big of a shock, Y/N,” Tom continued. “What did you think was happening with us? We’re meant to be together, and you may think you’re too good for me right now, but I’ll change your mind.”

Under any other circumstances, in any other scenario, she would have been thrilled to hear those words. But this was so messed up.

“I never said I’m too good for you. I would never say that. But this is wrong,” she said. “You’re stressed, you’re not in the right frame of mind, you’re struggling, and God knows there are a million other reasons. I can’t do this, Tom. It’s too messed up.”

“It may be messed up, but is it what you want?” he asked her.

Not knowing how to answer that, she just stared back at him.

“I just need you, and then everything will be fine. I’ll take care of you, and you’ll take care of me. You know that that’s what we’ve been doing from the moment we met? Taking care of each other?”

Her eyes slightly softened at that, and Tom thought he’d convinced her, the blood pumping through his system. But she suddenly shook her head again.

“I don’t even know who you are,” she said.

“I’m who I’ve always been.”

“No, you’re not. This is crazy. You’re crazy.”

At that, Tom’s expression changed to a dangerous one, and Y/N immediately realized that had been the wrong thing to say.

“Am I?! Then tell me you don’t love me, too,” he replied, his eyes dark.

“Tom...”

“Tell me!!!” he slammed his hand on the wall above her shoulder then, exasperated by her resistance and fueled by coke. As his palm met the wall, Y/N winced and shrank away from him, and as she looked at him once more in fright, he immediately regretted letting the anger take over as it so often did when he used. He didn’t want to scare her. He’d never hurt her.

“I’m sorry, Y/N, I just—” he reached for her, but she pulled further away.

Looking at him, she was silent for a moment.

“Stay away from me,” she finally said, and then she slipped past him.

•.•.•.•.•

Since that night, he hadn’t let up, constantly calling and texting her, trying to corner her whenever they were in the same place, and even showing up at her apartment. But it was clear to Y/N that he’d only gotten worse and worse with the drugs, and she’d continued to tell him to stay away from her. Truthfully, yes, she loved him, but he was a totally different person now, and she was scared of him.

Eventually, she’d told him just that, and Tom was disgusted and horrified with himself that he’d made her scared of him.

Of course you fucked this up, you fucking loser, he thought to himself, and he reached for the small bag in his pocket again, knowing it was both the cause of and solution to his problems.

But he couldn’t lose her, and he knew that if he just gave Y/N a little time, that she’d come around. So he’d left her alone for the past week, but knowing that he’d see her tonight, he couldn’t leave her be any longer. He knew she loved him, too, and they belonged together. He’d make her see that.

Retrieving the newest baggie off the bathroom sink, he stuffed it in his pocket and then buttoned his suit jacket, staring himself down in the mirror before finally turning to leave.

It’ll all be alright, he told himself one last time.

•.•.•.•.•

She didn’t know what to expect now, and while she’d been able to escape the other venues where they’d crossed paths since then, there was unfortunately no way Y/N could just bail on Janet’s party. She’d simply have to keep her defenses up, she decided.

Maybe it won’t be so bad, she thought then. Tom had left her alone for the last week, and so maybe he’d finally come to his senses a bit. And there’d be enough people there tonight that she could get lost among the guests and hopefully avoid him all together.

She hated the fact that this was now how she had to think about him.

As the doorbell rang and she heard Janet busy in the kitchen, she could only hope he’d ultimately somehow decided not to come. But then, she realized she’d likely find herself just worrying about him if he no-showed. God, this was such a mess!

As Y/N walked through the hallway, she inhaled slowly, and after reaching for the handle and gripping it tightly, she took a final deep breath, briefly closing her eyes, and then slowly opened the door.

@nyxxie-pooh @febris-amatoria @thegirlinsurmise @shaddixlife @cillianmurphyvevo

@betty21rose @allie131313 @fkmarrycill

[lionhanie]

han taesan ; back 2 u (part one)

you can’t help but find yourself coming back to taesan everytime

this is part one of my series, back 2 u! read the previous part here!

fuckboy!taesan x fem!reader, college au

...featuring! BFFS jaehyun + woonhak, fuckboy leehan (AND he's taesan's roommate), and lovely roomies sungho + riwoo <3

word count: 1.7k

warnings: cursing, alcohol mention and usage, party mentions, TAESAN IS A BIG FLIRT, reader lowkey doesn't like him lol

a/n: fuckboy taesan i won;t U so bad .. . .. </3

likes ♡ and reblogs ↺ always appreciated!

You would’ve never expected yourself to be involved with Han Taesan, well-known on campus equally for his pretty face and his ability to have someone new under his arm every week. Your school wasn’t necessarily huge, but it was impressive to think that most students had some inkling about who Han Taesan was.

His existence frustrated you deeply, actually. There wasn't any actual reason to hate him per se, but it was aggravating to think that some people just have so much going for them. Not only was he undeniably attractive to anyone who had eyes, he was also known for his unmistakable musical talent and a captivating charm that drew people in immediately. It’s almost comical the way you could be minding your business in class only to overhear a group of girls a couple seats over talking about how handsome Taesan was at a party last weekend or who his most recent fling could be.

Despite everything you’ve heard people say concerning him, you found it hard to believe he was such a player. Sure, he may have some good looks, but he looks… Innocent, in a way. Harmless.

The first time you’d interacted was in the library. You’ve noticed him in there on various occasions while you were working, but never paid much mind to it, given that he’d only look around the bookshelves for a couple minutes before seeing himself out. Taesan was standing right in front of the library’s help desk, where you worked for a couple hours in between classes. “By any chance, would I be able to check out this book?” He’s holding it out to you, and you’re surprised to find that he’s renting out one of your favorite novels. 

“Yup, I’m just going to need your name and student ID. You can only get it for four days at a time, but you’re free to come back and renew the book if you need more time with it,” You type away at the keyboard in front of you, opening up the form you needed to fill out for book rentals. “That’s a good book, by the way.” Your small talk is unnecessary, but your job was too boring not to make conversation with the few people that actually used your services. 

“Yeah, I’ve been eyeing it for a while,” He’s smiling as he takes his card out from the back of his phone case, sliding it to you on the counter. “Ah, my name is Han Taesan. And here’s my ID.” Picking it up, you notice that the name he’d just given you didn’t match the one on his ID. Han Dongmin? You were almost sure this was Taesan, though. Sensing your confusion, he chuckles as he moves to explain the mismatching names. “Most people know me as Taesan, not Dongmin. It’s just a nickname, really. Does it matter what name I use to check out the book?” He tilts his head as he looks back up at you, waiting for your response. 

“No, not really. It’ll be linked to your ID anyways, so it should be fine.” You scan his ID on the card reader next to you, allowing you to finish up the form splayed out on the monitor. Taesan drums his fingers on the counter, glancing around the near-empty library; he’s humming the melody to a song you don’t know. “You’re all set, Dongmin.” You slide his receipt and a piece of paper telling him when he needs to return the book under the cover before giving it back to him. 

He’s caught off-guard at hearing his real name come from your mouth, but he flashes you a grin regardless. “Have we met somewhere before…” Taesan’s sentence trails off until he notices the name tag pinned to your shirt, “...Y/N?” 

This time, you’re the one caught off-guard. “Sorry, is it better for me to call you Taesan?” You question. He’s probably only striking up a conversation because he doesn’t like people calling him by his real name— that probably explains why people call him Taesan instead. “And no, I don’t think we have.”

“Nah, keep calling me Dongmin. It sounds nice coming from you.” He’s leaning on the counter now, close enough for you to notice the luxurious-smelling cologne coming off of him. “You’ll be one of the few people who call me that, you know.” His comment makes you roll your eyes playfully, scoffing at the way he’s making it sound like a special honor for you to be able to call him that. “Are you free this weekend?” 

The clicking of your keyboard stops as you finally look at him properly, feeling slightly bashful at the sudden question paired with his intense stare. “...Why do you ask?”  Your initial perceptions of Taesan quickly dissolve, as you now realize that this is the type of person he really is. Looks really can be deceiving. He smirks at the expression on your face, happy with himself knowing he has such an effect on someone he just met.

He slides his phone over to you, just like he had done with his student ID just moments ago. You take a peek at it, curious about its contents, only to see a blank “New Contact” screen waiting for you. “Number?” He asks for a girl’s number… Like this? It irritates you to think that he’s probably used this exact sequence numerous times without fail, and now he’s here using it on you while you’re at work.

Hesitating briefly, you pick up the phone and type in your info— You hate how easily you give in to him, almost wishing you played a bit harder to get, but it’s hard to say no to the handsome face of Han Taesan directly asking you for your number. “I’ll text you, yeah?” 

“Okay,” You reply, completely baffled at the interaction that just unfolded all in the span of less than ten minutes. Taesan slips his phone into his pocket and tucks the book he rented under his arm, giving you a small smile as he steps away from the desk. As you watch him walk out the sliding doors, you let out a breath you didn’t even know you were holding in. Next to you, your phone screen lights up. 

4 new messages from “Unknown Number”! it’s dongmin [address] come saturday if ur free, starts at 10 i’d love to talk to u again, y/n :-) 

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

Just this once, you’re grateful that Han Taesan is so widely known, because it was surprisingly easy to find friends who were already planning on attending Saturday’s party. You were at ease knowing you’d at least have Riwoo and Sungho to fall back on if the nerves suddenly took over. 

You wish you could say that you debated on not coming, but that’d be a complete lie, because you’re currently standing in the middle of Riwoo and Sungho’s shared apartment throwing back shots to pregame. “It’s been a while since you came out with us Y/N! What’s the occasion?” Sungho randomly interrogates you while refilling the empty shot glasses on the counter. 

Biting your lip, you contemplate your response: Should you lie and say you just felt like partying this weekend? You’re well aware of the fact that the pair of roommates in front of you are friends with Taesan… So it wouldn’t be weird to mention him now, right? But then again, his parties are huge. Chances are, he invites random strangers to them all the time, so there’s no need for you to act like your interaction at the library was anything special— You’re about to answer when your phone screen flashes on the kitchen island.

 

2 new messages from “Han Dongmin”! i’ll see u later ya? ik u won’t leave me hanging again y/n ;P 

The notification exhilarates you. Was he looking forward to seeing you tonight? It annoys you slightly to think that Taesan knew you’d show up, even if you’d never confirmed the matter. “Ah… I didn’t know you were friends with Taesan, Y/N!” Riwoo reads the text off your phone from over your shoulder as he moves to pick up one of the shots Sungho just poured. Guess he chose the answer to your internal turmoil for you. “Now that I think of it, how come we’ve never gone to any of his parties together before?” 

Mirroring his actions, you take a glass for yourself and finish it in one clean gulp, wincing at the burn it sends down your throat. “Hm, I don’t think I’d call us friends. He asked for my number at the library the other day.” You correct him, explaining the encounter you shared with Taesan two days prior. 

Being the last to take their shot, Sungho hums in understanding across from you. You can’t help but wonder what it’d be like to actually get to know the kind of person Han Taesan is; Would he maintain the tension with his flirty remarks? Or is he just a normal college student that doesn’t actually live up to the reputation he’s made for himself around campus? 

“So, Y/N, do you think he’s hot?” Sungho blurts out, making you choke on your spit. Riwoo giggles from beside you, patting your back as you finish your coughing fit. “I mean, we don’t care if you think he is. Taesan’s a handsome guy. Hell, half the student population probably thinks so too!” Sungho’s contagious laughter fills the kitchen, making you and Riwoo laugh along with him. 

“Well duh, why wouldn’t I think he’s hot?” There’s a smile on your face as you admit your attraction to the boy in question. Han Taesan is definitely intriguing. The alcohol feels like it’s finally made its way through your system, the room feeling a bit warmer than it was earlier. The three of you didn’t drink much; just enough to give you a little more courage to go to the party without feeling too nervous. You take a glance at the clock on their microwave: 10:43PM. “Shouldn’t we get going?”

taglist: @minwrlds @luna2nite @taesancore @taesanmoon @helpsplease @taylorluvation (send an ask / comment if you want to be added hehe)

© lionhanie 2024 ; all rights reserved!

[he-is-lightning-in-a-bottle]

POLL TAG- FIVE FAVORITE CHARACTERS

tagged by @wen-kexing-apologist.

Challenge: make a poll with five of your all time favorite characters, and then tag five people to do the same. See which character is everyone's favorite.

I am choosing to limit myself to BL characters because otherwise we'd have a Will Graham (an unhinged FBI profiler in Hannibal) vs Yu Ji Ho (the boundary-respecting pharmacist single dad in One Spring Night) vs Bart (the Universe-appointed holistic assassin in Dirk Gently's Holistic Detective Agency) vs Benjamin Sisko (the legendary single dad and captain of the space station in Star Trek Deep Space Nine) type of situation going on.

The Spiel - IN DEFENSE OF MY FAVES

Nozue (Old Fashion Cupcake)

Everyone's favorite boss with a heart of gold, this 39yo repressed hottie could flirt like a pro. My favorite thing about him is that he experienced utterly transformative character growth without having to experience severe pain (a breakup, a loved one's death, job loss, rejection, etc). He just looked at where he was standing and... stepped left.

Kakeru (I Cannot Reach You)

My boy learned his childhood bestie had a crush on him and did not flee in terror. Instead he faced it and asked for patience and examined his feelings and treated the potential change in their relationship as seriously as it deserved to be treated because the request came from someone he loved. Clearly, this is a boy who knows how to spell R-E-S-P-E-C-T.

Wei Qian (Unknown)

He stepped up and raised his younger sibling when their druggie mother died, then added an adoptee into the mix. And he cared for them so profoundly that they had relatively normal childhoods despite being orphans. Yet this softie was tough enough to be a gang enforcer, and then smart enough to get a college degree, and then competent enough to co-create a successful startup. Like what kind of super hero bullshit is he on?

Karan (Cherry Magic, Thailand)

A competent and talented employee, and he's a total simp who looks great in or out of a suit? Sign me up for his tender loving care, y'all. I literally melted into a puddle of goo every time we saw a glimpse of his very earnest yet sweet fantasies. He just wants to take care of his boo!

Iwanaga (Love Is Better The Second Time Around)

I confess he's here mostly because he's eye candy. (Well that and recency bias, because if we're really talking about my favorite eye candy, it'd be Porsche from Kinnporsche without a second's hesitation.) But roll with me here, please? This man can fuck! And fuck so well he pissed off the love of his life! And all the men in town are dropping for him like flies. They get one hint of a taste of his juice and they're down bad! They're hooked. They're his. He is legendary. He is epic. He knows how to work his angles and his puppy dog eyes! And he's also talented and wealthy and considerate to boot.

***

Most of my mutuals have probably played already, but if you care to go again or want an excuse to play by different rules, please consider yourself tagged. Also I'm tagging some of you just in case you haven't done it yet because tbh I haven't been paying that close of attention to my dash this week: @absolutebl, @syrinth, @dean-you-assbutt-cas-loves-you, @lurkingshan, @bengiyo, @chickenstrangers, @thequeenofsastiel, @tiggymalvern, @spicyvampire, @my-rose-tinted-glasses, @wanderlust-in-my-soul, @twig-tea, @telomeke, @guzhu-furen, @gunsatthaphan, @lymeandcoconut, @itwoodbeprefect, @shortpplfedup

[angelsanarchy]

Righteousness of Man: Kappa x Y/N- Mini Series PRT 07

Tagging: @icarus-star @ithinkitstimetonap @kappasbbgirl @chainsawgvtsfvck @luzclarita57 @miniisunshine @romanroyapoligist @madamemaximoff06 @thirtyratsinasuit @ethical-cain-vinnel @blueberrypancakesworld @dumbbitchdelrey @loljustignoreth4t @tvgirlsbluehair @s0ulfulll @mommymilkers0526 @vomiting-blood @ultrakissed @hisemoslut @lustkillers @s-0lar @roryculkinsgf dukesofsp00ks thirtyratsinasuit

After that night, Kappa changed his tune a bit. Instead of being a disciplinary with Y/n, he's softened his actions. He worships her body every night, sometimes eating her out for hours until she's overstimulated and demanding he go to bed. Kappa has become a slave to her every wish.

If she has a taste for something, he orders someone to retrieve it. If she's cold, he builds a fire, even in the middle of the day. He doesn't allow her to have a need that goes overlooked. Y/n however hasn't let her guard down. She knows that Kappa didn't just suddenly become a sucker romantic because she made him cum from pegging him, despite him having her do it at least twice a week.

Y/n is lying in the grass, enjoying the sun on her skin when Kappa starts kissing her belly. She pays him no mind until she hears him almost humming against her skin.

"I think we should start a family." Kappa said, continuously stroking her skin.

"I'm pretty sure that's what all those people over there are." She pointed to the rest of the people down on the ranch but Kappa sat up to look down at her.

"No I mean you and me, we should have a baby." She let's out a chuckle.

"A baby? You plan on carrying it?" She teased but Kappa persisted.

"Seriously, let's have one....or twelve." He grinned.

"Now I know you're crazy." She shook her head but Kappa sighed.

"Are you planning on leaving me?" His demeanor changed.

"What? Kappa, I never said I was leaving. What brought all this on exactly?" Y/n sat up on her elbows and he ran his hand through his hair.

"I just want you to have a reason to stay. I don't want you to get bored of the life here, bored of me..." Kappa was never quite this pathetic. It left a strange taste in Y/n's mouth.

"And you think knocking me up will somehow make me stay forever? You know that's not exactly how the nuclear families are made, right?" She poked fun at him but he clenched his jaw.

"You don't want to make a baby with me?" Kappa questioned. Y/n sighed at the question.

"Kappa, babies can't live in the desert on bonfire food and a trailer that fits barely a person. It would be impossible to provide for a child here, with the limited resources-" He cut her off.

"Those are all bullshit excuses and you know it. I would take care of you and our baby. I would protect you both and make sure you never went without...why don't you want to have a baby with me!?" He pressed.

"Your ideas for the world, the vision you have...they are much bigger than me...bigger than what I can give you. You don't need me-"

"I do! I do need you and I don't just need you, I want you! I want to start the revolution with you! I want our children to grow up in a world without the need for all these machines telling us whats real and what's not!" Kappa took her hands in his and Y/n knew he was desperate.

"Do you believe I love you?" Kappa asked firmly and Y/n nodded her head.

"Yes Kappa, I know you love me." Y/n affirmed his belief so he was less paranoid.

"Then let me make love to you. Let me put a baby inside of you so we can create the new world how we deem fit." Kappa crawled over her body and Y/n knew if she tried to argue, it wouldn't do her any good. Kappa had a one track mind.

"What if its not easy? What if I can't give you a baby?" Y/n asked as Kappa stripped her out of her shorts and tank, rushing to rid himself of his slacks and shirt.

"Our love could build two worlds. I want to fill this one with as many of us as possible." Kappa resumed his position atop Y/n and she watched him spit in his palm to tug himself hard.

"I love you Y/n. I love you so much." Kappa entered her cunt and let himself moan out loud. Y/n let her knees bend against his hips so she could enjoy this out of the ordinary fuck.

"Oh fuck your cock feels so good." Y/n gripped his bare ass and Kappa let his hair hang in his face.

"It's all for you my queen. My cock belongs to you. My heart belongs to you. My seed belongs to you." Kappa thrust his cock frantically, gripping her thighs in his hands, trying not to let the sweat from the heat make him lose his grip on her.

"Is that what you want Kappa? To put a baby in my belly? You want to cum inside of me so deep that your seed creates new life?" Y/n panted.

"Y-yes. Yes I want that. I want that more than anything." Kappa pleaded.

"Than cum inside of me Kappa. Give me your cum and let it create life, a new life...to start a new world." Y/n felt herself cumming and could feel Kappa's hips stuttering as he let out a loud moan.

"I'm cumming! Fuck I'm cumming." He kept thrusting as if he could push his load further than her cervix and win some sort of prize baby on the spot.

Once Kappa had stopped, he stayed inside of her. He laid atop her, resting his head on her sweaty chest.

"I can't wait for this to be real. I want it all with you, my love. You will be a beautiful mother." Kappa kissed Y/n's breasts as he tried to calm himself.

She couldn't lie and say the sex was ever bad with Kappa. The sex was always good. She enjoyed having him try different things with her but the moment he started talking about children, Y/n knew her time with Kappa was now on a clock.

Soon he would realize what brought her here, why Y/n had let him bring her into his world and just how wrong he was for letting himself fall in love with a stranger.

[smolvenger]

The Boat in the Water: A Beauty and the Beast Story Part Five (Loki x Stella Ransome, An MCU and The Essex Serpent Crossover multipart)

Fic Summary: in a nutshell, Beauty and the Beast with Stella Ransome from The Essex Serpent as the Beauty/Belle and Loki Laufeyson as the Beast. Having lost her health and her husband's fidelity and love, Stella has nothing more to lose than her life. Then...she is swept away to another realm, to an enchanted castle. A castle whose master is a god...a god with a striking resemblance to her husband.

Chapter Summary: Stella steps in to save her husband as she and Loki make amends.

One// Two//Three//Four//Five//Six

Word Count: 6K (have a drink on standby)

Chapter Warnings: Violence, sickness, blood, injury- fluff and angst. I portray the affair between Will and Cora in The Essex Serpent in a negative light and Stella exploring her negative feelings about being cheated on. If you take issue with that, then there are LOTS of fics out there for you, this isn't one of them. Stella is attracted to Loki and develops feelings internally for him while still married, but you know our girl Stella would never act on them- so kind of emotional cheating, I guess? Please let me know if I missed one, I am not a professional author and I am not making a cent off of this, but I take full accountability for anything that isn't tagged and how I portray dark subject matter.

A03//My Ko-Fi//My Etsy Shop//Masterlist//Wattpad

Taglist: @anukulee @asgards-princess-of-mischief @jennyggggrrr @five-miles-over @fictive-sl0th @ladycamillewrites @villainousshakespeare @holdmytesseract @eleniblue @twhxhck @lokisgoodgirl @lovelysizzlingbluebird @raqnarokr @holymultiplefandomsbatman @michelleleewise @wolfsmom1 @cheekyscamp @mochie85 @fandxmslxt69 @skittslackoffilter @mischief2sarawr @jijilaufeyson @steasstuff

Stella let out a horrified scream as the dagger pierced into her husband’s flesh. 

Will had backed away, trying to escape. But he was too late. In that split second, the dagger landed onto the lower half of his stomach. The Aesir crowd gasped. Many were frozen in terrified, numb passivity. 

She began to bolt forward, picking up her skirts that swished with her so her feet could easily race across the floor. She heard Loki’s threat and heard the smirk in his voice.

“She’s your wife. And I’m about to make her your widow,” said Loki.

Loki conjured a second dagger. Will staggered, a hand over his bleeding stomach. The first dagger still inside. He fell backward and tried to move away with his legs pushing against the floor. Loki only easily caught up to him in two slow, graceful steps,like a cat toying with an injured mouse. And he was going to savor this moment and devour every morsel of it.

Loki raised his arm to commit a final blow.

Stella ran forward and placed both her hands on the god’s arm.

“Loki! Stop! I command you- stop this instant!” she demanded. Not begged- demanded. 

When the god turned, he saw a fire in her eyes. His dark eyebrows shot up seeing her. Something in him paled and his lips turned thin. Stella held her glare.

“Do. Not. kill him.” she commanded.

 The dagger vanished into the air. 

She ran over to Will, who stopped to look at her in awe. As if she was something far more divine than of flesh and blood. 

She got down and held his hand. She then looked at the gawking crowd.

“Someone fetch him a healer! Get them! Now! Hurry- he’s a mortal!” she insisted.

A few guests hurried and found a room. Two men lifted Will’s arms onto their shoulders as they dragged him there. One used some of his napkins as a bandage for the blood. A small party was going to leave to fetch the healers on their fastest horses.

He was laid on the bed, the dagger remaining inside. But yet, even with that, Stella stayed beside amidst the flurry of people. Will reached out a hand and touched her face and she held it.

“Stella is that…”

She nodded. Tears in her eyes despite the smile on her face.

“Yes, it’s me…” she assured me.

The Vicar smiled, despite the wince of pain.

“You look so well…and you..you were dancing…you didn’t have any strength to dance the last time I looked at you…”

“They helped me here…and they’re going to help you…” she promised him. 

Loki was watching them. Pouting from a distance. He swallowed back the urge to gag at the picture. He had to turn around so he could not look at them. He knew it would make him do something else.

Perhaps he should be the one stabbed instead. Perhaps he should have been the one to be bleeding so Stella would warp her soft arms around him and speak soft, sweet words to him.

But no, instead he was the one who brought about her pain. And he could only force his eyes away.

Stella hated him. Loki felt that in his soul.

The healers arrived with the party on horses not long after. With their bags and magic, they crowded into the room. Though they were all women. They were delighted to heal Will. To help such a handsome man with muscled arms and hair on his chest. Stella saw a few greedy smiles on the younger ones as they lifted up his shirt to look at the wound. Not that she could privately blame them. She could only anxiously watch in the corner.

They caught the blood and were working on spells to repatch the area he was hit in. The ball was only half-heartedly continuing outside. 

Out of the corner of her eye, Stella found Loki pacing about. His face was severe. Until he looked out at a door where the party was continuing. Guests were chatting and even dancing without a worry in the world. He leaned against the wall with one arm to watch them but with crossed eyebrows and a stubborn frown.

Stella approached him quietly, her eyes angry. She knew how to mother naughty children when they did something they should not have. She had that gleam in her eyes before a scolding that is universal to any mother.

“Loki, you did something horrible,” she began sternly.

The god turned to look at her. But his face had the same sour expression.

“You’re right. I stabbed him in the wrong place. I should have aimed for his cock, it would’ve save us all the trouble,” he replied.

He looked back at the party.

Stella took in a breath to slow her heart, to cool the heat building up in her face. Using Christian virtues of forgiving one’s enemy would not work with a Norse god, she figured. There was no use debating if Will was good or bad, no use debating what he did. They already had this conversation before. Things would only become worse between them than they were. 

There was the shameful twinge of herself that felt like he was right yet…it shouldn’t have happened like this…how could she speak to him?

She crossed her arms and looked at him. With another slow inhale, she figured out how.

“Go inside, help the healers, and use your magic to make him stable, please, Loki,” she requested.

He turned around and squinted at her as if she spoke a foreign language.

“I beg your pardon? Why? He deserves it. For the pain he inflicted. For the pain he inflicted on you, might I add. He can bleed his way to this ‘heaven’ plade for all I care,” he argued.

She met his eyes resolutely. 

“Loki…if not for his sake, then think of this…”

Touching his arm with a strong grasp, Stella’s eyes never lowered from his.

“ There are three children who need their father alive. They are staying with a couple who use Will’s tithes to take care of them. If he is gone, those children have nothing to support them. They will all be declared orphans and never see their father again, and I could lose them if another claims them. You must heal him. For James’s sake. For Jo’s sake. For Johns…and mine…” she added.

Loki got up from the wall. He looked at her- strong, angry, and as beautiful as ever. Inches close to her face, his voice quiet.

“For your sake. And the children’s sake. Not his,” he replied.

The god turned inside. He magicked away the bucket that had a cloth full of blood and conjured new bandages. He made sure the healers had whatever they needed. Medicinal magic was not his realm of expertise, but it was what he could do. That and back away and lean against the wall to take in the healing of this infamous man.

A healer walked into the hallway with Stella.

“He is stable. There shall be a scar, but there isn’t any bleeding. He will have some pain, but he will live,” she reported.

“Oh, thank you!” Stella replied.

She scurried in and saw the women checking in on Will. His middle was bandaged and clean. The dagger removed with magic. He was drinking a potion that was going to patch up his innards in a golden cup. He was frustratingly handsome as ever with his curls draped against the pillow. He looked up at the room, his face to the side to show his profile.

But her head turned…Loki was speaking to a few healers. Conversing with them. He had done what she asked.

She approached him slowly and smiled.

“Thank you, Loki,” she replied.

She then went over to Will. He handed his cup to the healer beside him. She gave Stella a silent, jealous glare.

“Stella…Stella, dear…” he rasped, his arms open.

 She wrapped her arms around him and hugged him. He embraced her back, feeling the rich material of her gown. 

The healers trickled out with satisfied smiles painted on their faces. Loki turned and gazed on the wife and husband. 

He hesitated, and then he left the room.

He knew he should not overhear the private conversations of a couple, one who had been married for over a decade. Considering Jo’s age, if the girl was conceived on the wedding night, then it meant they were married at least for fourteen years. Fourteen years to know a person, be tied to them, have them at the hip, always with you, around you, called on when needed…what was that like? 

Despite himself, he heard bits of their conversation. His adoptive parents were together for centuries. Yet the murmurs that trickled out between the mortals in that room didn’t seem too entirely different. 

But if Stella was his…fourteen years did not feel like enough to have her with him.

There were a few words he did pick up on.

“How long until you are better?” asked the husband.

“Only a week or two, they say. There are some symptoms but…I’m not dying. It feels so odd, but…I’m not dying. I’m going to be normal in a fortnight,” Stella answered.

“Normal in a fortnight…why, what does one even say at this!”

“Only that this is a very good place that helps so many people…” she replied. “Wait, Will, wait here…”

Her footsteps, light as dancers, pattered out the door. Loki jumped and turned back to his spot in the hallway. He saw her approach him.

“Could you send him home, please?” she asked.

He complied. After a few happy tears and hugs and promises to write, Will was transported with Loki’s magic from the guest bedroom to his own. 

‘Leave it to him to try and explain to his malicious misteress in the seven hels happened to him last night. And good luck making anyone believe him,’ Loki thought.

The party was already coming to a close. An entire one was thrown, yet the hosts were gone and now guests were getting tired and leaving. Even the music was softer, slower.

One by one, they left. Leaving Stella and Loki alone in the ballroom which was littered with flower petals and crumbs of food on the floor. The night was dark and starry. The crackling torches on the wall were dim.

Loki lumbered over and sat on some stone steps on the floor. It would lead out to the circle where musicians would play. But now there was no music, only the guilt burning inside him.

“Thank you, again, for healing him, and taking him home” Stella said.

The god was stiff. His face pale and he held his hands as he surveyed everything, but avoided looking at her.

“Loki, what is it?” she asked.

He looked about the remains of the party. The magic had yet to clean it up, but he still wanted to look.

“I ruined it. I ruined your party. Your party. I...I…I hurt him…that is what I do…I ruin things…no wonder I was left behind as a child. I ruin everything by touching it..” he mourned.

Stella walked forward.

“Don’t say that about yourself. It is not your fault what your parents did.”

She leaned down and touched his arm. He relaxed as her fingers brushed his fine leathers. He then looked at her.

“Loki…everyone does something they regret when their emotions get the better of them But you listened to me. You stopped it. And you took action to fix it…Loki…I forgive you.”

He looked down again at the ground.

“Is this what I always do? Do nice things and then ruin them? Give you even more things you must forgive me for?”

“You’re a god. Not an angel.” she reminded him.

She sat down next to him.

“Let me tell you something. I once became so frustrated at John when he was little. I was so tired- James was just born and he was crying all night and I barely slept a wink for months. John ran in getting mud everywhere one day. It bothered me so that I raised my voice and scolded him for getting mud in the house. He burst into tears and wouldn’t speak to me all night. He wanted to go hide in wardrobes... I never felt such shame. I found myself crying because I was a bad mother…but I told him I was sorry. And he forgave me. Now he always keeps track of his shoes and helps me clean them.”

She reached over and touched his chin so that he turned to her. There was a gentle smile on her face and part of Loki melted on the inside.

“We will always fail. All of our lives. But we learn from them…and try and do better…that is only the way the world works. In Midgard. Or in Asgard.” she replied. 

Part of her shivered when she thought of the fact that her husband almost died- and that if she didn’t act, he would have.

 “Loki, Promise me you won’t try to end his life, please?” she asked.

He reached his hand up and touched hers. She felt something in her body tighten as he did. He then placed a second large, gentle hand over hers. Pale and smooth compared to the rough, hairy hands of her husband.

“I promise, I won’t try to end his life, Stella…”

“I know why you did it. You were thinking of…of him and Cora, didn’t you?” 

“Yes, I was…”

She paused and lowered her head. Her eyes went down to a discarded flower that fell from the wall and lay trampled.

“I must be honest…”

Something about the long night, her tiredness from the events, was bringing about a candor in her. But she could trust Loki. She could tell him anything.

“Sometimes I think…There are times I think of that dance. They were centimeters away from kissing. I should feel happy. I tell myself I brought this to them. To myself. I should feel happy. I know I should…but I don’t feel happy. I feel so…so sad, so angry. I tell everyone all the time I am happy. But I couldn’t be less happy than those days... Loki…I feel as if  could have flown into a rage and taken that knife and stabbed him myself-”

She covered her mouth, shocked at the words that came out of her. Loki looked at her, her figure hunching more.

“It’s horrid! So, horrid! I…I felt so bad about such thoughts I…I made myself push them away. Keep them in a box. I never…never told anyone…”

Loki shifted closer to her. Her shoulders tightened. Her blue skirt like a collapsed tent around her as it seemed to deflate around her legs.

“Him and Cora I…I find, when I’m alone, when it’s only my mind- I bewail it, and I blame myself, I blame him and yet…I keep it away, I tell myself it’s for the best. He loves her. And she him. My family won’t be  alone, I tell myself I don’t feel bad yet I…I’m gonig to be healed…and this means, this was for nothing. I’m going to have my health. I’m going to live but…he’s still…”

Her breathing was fast.

“He write to her. Every night. I would crawl up, before I was sick, and see his office. The light was still on. His sleeves were still up like it was some great labor. And he would be writing furiously, focused by his lamp. He would barely glance at me behind him. So I would turn and leave…but I was well…even when I was well, I knew he was writing to her…And he would lay awake at night. Reading his Bible…not because he was dealing with God. He was…was thinking of her…all that time, all he could think about was her, and not me anymore-and I wasn’t sick then!”

Tears welled up, her face red and getting scrunched and hot. Finally, the water broke and she began to cry. 

She went up to Loki and clutched him.

“No one is here but me…you can cry as much as you want…” he assured her.

She wrang out the tears. Her shame, Her guilt. Her secrets. Her pain. Let it ebb and flow. For once, unhappiness did not disturb Stella. It did not feel like she was going to ruin something or hurt someone. The grief itching in the back of her brain could be scratched.

Her crying paused. After that, beneath the tears that streamed down her cheeks. Even as she was broken, melting down into a blank slate of herself. 

She cried. Cried in front of someone. And she ruined nothing and hurt no one. No one thought her a weak, foolish person. Loki would never think that about her. But an invisible weight had drifted off her shoulders. She felt…at peace.

Loki put a hand on her face, his long thumb wiping away one of the tear stains. She felt her heart suddenly race against her chest.

“You have done nothing to be ashamed of…you have thought such things yet never acted on them…you’re stronger than I could ever dream. You’ve had such fury, such grief….and you hurt no one…”

He froze for only a moment and then continued.

“You have so much love, so much compassion Stella…but one day you will realize not everyone deserves it…or you…”

She blinked.

“How…how can I…even do that?” she asked.

“Well, I for one, advise on preferably not stabbing someone in the middle of a party in front of his wife.” Loki quipped.

She grinned, a weak laugh escaping her thick, pretty lips. 

He escorted her through the hallways and up the stairs to her room. She paused.

“Loki I…please I…” she muttered. 

She was blushing, as she held out a hand for him.

“What is it?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.

Her hands went to her sides, bunching up into fists.

“Loki, I am a decent woman. And I want to be a decent woman but…tonight could you-could you-”

The god felt every sense in him strike alight, he tensed, not believing this was happening.

Stella wrung her hands on her side, her eyes lowering and darting about.

“You just…you resemble him, in face and form and…I don’t…I don’t want to feel like I go to bed alone for once. I’ve slept beside someone for years and to feel your bed empty for the first time. I…I…could you just…just hold me as a I go to sleep?”

Loki found he was blinking. His chest seemed still and then rose and fall with breaths he needed to be slow.

“You want me…to hold you…as you sleep?”

“You don’t know what it’s like…to sleep in the arms and next to someone you adore. Feel their warmth and touch and then it..it vanishes…I feel…oh, heavens, I feel like some child needing her doll at night. I just- I haven’t been held when I slept for months, but Loki…I don’t want you to…to…”

She turned red as her eyes went up to his, the confession bursting from her.

“Do anything less than gentlemanly, but I just want to be held. Please!”

Loki stepped forward.

“Yes. I’ll stay here, and hold you as you go to sleep.

She went behind a screen. Loki tried not to let blood rush to his system, his body, knowing she was bare just behind that one layer. But he knew to control himself.

Out Stella emerged. Her soft, silk, white nightgown. Her hair in her favorite braid that draped down her side. 

He tilted his head, and his magic turned his clothes from leather to the plain white shirt and soft brown pants.

“Is this how the men of Asgard sleep?”she asks.

“We prefer the…natural form, if you say,” Loki replied with a wink.

“Oh…” Stella replied demurely.

“But I won’t make you uncomfortable.”

“It’s only…he…it’s almost funny, your sleep shirts almost look like his.”

She sat on the bed.

“Would you like me to change to his form?” Loki asked.

Stella shook her head.

“No…just your own, please,” she replied.

Always with manners. It was as if she grew up in a palace like him. He couldn’t help but like her.

They laid down on the bed next to each other. She turned to one side and he wrapped his arms around her from behind. A hug. A reminder that she was cared for, touched. Warm beneath blankets, she fell asleep. Loki drifted off not long after.

When morning arrived, she awoke first. She could feel his arms, but settled into him. Listening to his soft breathing.

When she turned into him, he insintincively held her close.

When he woke up, he was slow in his greetings. And then making sure she was alright, he left the room to give her privacy to dress for the day. His curls were tussled and his cheeks had a slight pinkness to them. He seemed so real, so unfiltered…so human.

“I’ll…I’ll…I’ll see you at dinner, Little Star,” he said.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

The healer in the back room of the cottage had Stella sit up. She was a pretty young woman with dark brown hair and soft brown eyes who held a white bowl in front of Stella's mouth.

“Now, spit,” she instructed.

There was one thing Stella was always advised to do. Every single doctor’s visit, be mortal or Aesir-Spit, Mrs, Ransome, please. Spit. Spit to study the contents. It was unladylike. It was crude. It was something she saw every one of her children do since they were babies. Spittle gurgling down each little chin in a soft bundle. 

She was realms away and yet it felt like nothing changed.

She obeyed and spat into the dish. The pretty healer smiled at her and then went to meet her superiors.

Three more women in their long, white dresses came over to examine her. They listened to her lungs. Waved their hands to have magic images float in the sky- and somehow they were able to read what was happening in her body. But there were more smiles this time, a flitter of excitement in the air.

“Have you felt tired?” asked one.

“No…come to think of it, I’ve not felt tired in the day at all.” Stella answered.

“Do you have any pains in your chest lately?” she asked next.

“I…I think it’s been last week since my chest had any pain…” Stella replied.

“Any blood coughed out?” 

“I haven’t been coughing and there was no blood.”

The younger one who took the spit returned. She whispered something into the ear of the others. They all turned and smiled kindly at her.

“Lady Stella, we have good news. It seems everything in you shows that between the medicine doses, the rest, and the air here…you have no symptoms of the illness and it is not anywhere in your lungs.” one announced.

The world almost fell out. A sound came out of Stella like a gasp, and she covered her mouth. Hardly believing the words, although the feeling in her body told her otherwise. She had been feeling strong. She wasn’t sweating at night. She had her appetite. She was…normal. Normal and healthy.

“We studied everything, and there is only just a little bit of hte disease. Do not fear, for it will inoculate it. Your body shall likely not catch it again…” continued the healer, the leader of the group.

“I…I…I’m healed?” asked Stella, her hands shaking.

“Yes, you’re healed.”

She smiled wide, tears in her eyes, and hugged them. Thanking all of them.

As she got into the carriage, she was beaming. She couldn’t wait to go home and…

Oh, home. The home wasn’t the white house on the marsh. Home was the enchanted palace. The place of refuge…

Stella walked through the entrance to see if there was a nice spot to have some tea and a sandwich. She was feeling peckish.

But as she walked down, she did not expect Loki there, strolling up with a spring in his step. Handsome and winning as a fairy story.

“Ah, I wanted to find you,” he announced.

“Why, what is this?” she asked.

“We aren’t just going to eat dinner today,” he announced. He stopped before her, a proud grin on his face. “We’re doing what you mortals call luncheon- it’s quite a charming little idea. I found a spot in Asgard. And I want to take you there…I think you’d like it..”

He held his hand opened to her, bowing gallantly.

“Would you accept, my dear lady?” he asked.

Ignoring the fluttering in her stomach, Stella accepted and took his hand.

In a flash of light, they were under the sun. Not a harsh sun, but a gentle one. And there was a cool breeze. The birds singing weren’t distant, but could be heard nearby.

Stella gasped in delight.

She was in a whole field full of blue flowers. Roaming over the long grass. They decked throughout and bent with the wind. She could see where the ground sloped down a hill and made a new one- decorated with the flowers. There was the odd tree, but it seemed it went on for miles. 

“Why, this…this place…I…” Stella gasped. The color of peace, of heaven, of beauty all around her.

“The whole place just screams you.” Loki quipped. When she looked at him, his smile had softened.

“I’ve never seen a field full of flowers, much less blue ones! Thank you!” she cried.

“Here…let me show you more of it,” he offered.

He took her hand and led her through. They walked as eagerly and excited and free as children. Loki led her one place and pointed eagerly. She saw a lake and high mountains topped with snow. So high, the clouds above kissed them. How tiny she felt compared to it from a distance. As she breathed in deep to take it all in, her lungs strong again, she could tell the air was cooler, crisper.

“I…I’ve never seen a mountain before!” she exclaimed.

“And now you have, my dear! I accept glasses of wine and time with you and not with my brother as a thank you,” he replied.

She only made a light laugh. Loki had his magic  conjure a picnic blanket and a basket. But Stella was too eagerly picking flowers to eat yet. She bent their green stems to form a necklace and wore it over her.

“Hmm, why do you wear those little beads?” Loki asked as he got out plates and steaming bowls of food.

“Oh, out of habit. For protection!” she answered. 

She took it off hers and leaned to Loki. Though he flinched , he let her put the necklace over his head.

“Here, so you can have protection too.” she offered.

Loki let out a sigh, but relaxed, letting himself wear the flowers. It wasn’t befitting and could seem silly for a god and prince to have them, but Stella’s smile when she saw him wearing them was….well, exquisite. Her small giggles at them stirred something inside him.

And they did smell nice, he silently admitted.

They enjoyed their picnic, which consisted of sandwiches with salted meat, soft fruit in delicate little bowls. There was even a small almond cake offered inside which Loki found himself struggling not to shove entirely in his mouth.

Stella eagerly picked up a few flowers and held it up to him.

“I…I think it’s like your Frost Giant skin- could we check?” she asked.

Loki turned his hand blue and his eyebrows shot up in astonishment as he compared.

“It…it is..” he confirmed.

‘Now help me pick which ones to press!” she offered.

They looked around, gathering some in their arms. All full of bouquets of the blue flowers. Stella was planning to put them in vases around the castle to add a bit of her touch to them. But Stella brought out just a few from one bunch.

“Here, have these,” she offered.

Loki tilted his head at them.

“Little star, it’s usually the gentleman who gives the lady flowers,” he commented.

“No- keep them! I want you to press them into a book or anything you wish. So you remember, so you reflect on how beautiful they are, and how beautiful your true form is!” she replied.

Loki accepted the flowers. Looking into her eyes and smiling. He made them float in the air where they drifted into the baskets.

Loki began twitching his hands. Here it was- his chance. Now or never. He was going to say the reason he brought her here, to this field.

“Well…” he began. He wasn’t good at saying it. But hhe wanted to say it. He needed to say it and yet the words couldn’t come up to him. He knew it was futile, but he had to say it, he had to say-

“Loki, I have good news: I’m healed now…” she announced.

He froze. It was a clear, sunny day but it seemed as if a bit of his brother’s thunder had rumbled through and brought lightning down onto him.

“You’re healed?” he asked.

“I am recovered. I am not weak, I cough no blood…”

Loki looked on the ground for a few seconds, then back up. He took both of her hands and placed them in his. 

“There’s something you’re thinking of, isn’t there?” he asked.

“It’s only…I miss…I miss my family, my children…if only…I could tell them, see them again, let them know I am better…” she confessed.

A second passed between them. A deep breath came through Loki

“Stella, you should go,” he said.

She blinked.

“You will…let me go, just like that?” she asked.

He nodded.

“Yes…you are the mistress of the palace, not its prisoner. And your children need you- and you are healed. You can go. I will do everything to make sure you are safely returned.”

A smile broke wider on Stella’s face, even a few happy tears. She eagerly embraced Loki and he embraced back. He held her, taking her in, burying himself in her. Trying to memorize how she felt to his touch. Trying to remember her embrace, the feel of her pulse, her scent, the brush of her yellow hair against his skin. 

It was going to be one of their last for a long time.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Hurrying to the library, Stella got out paper and pen and scribbled down the letters in excitement. The first to the Ambroses and to Will, to share the good news. To share in her joy, her miracle. She asked that the Ambroses have the children return home at their earliest convenience to be reunited with them.

That made her tear up. Her three little dears, getting about in London in the big city. When they were taken away for fear of their catching it, she sobbed. It was going to be the last time she ever saw her darlings…and she was going to live. She was going to see them again. She was going to see Will again. And the dog, and the church, and the sea, and everyone in that town. The Bates, Martha, Cora, even that old curmudgeon Cracknell still made her laugh in her memories and there was going to be more of him to make her laugh. And that was to name a mere few of the people there!

 She was going to have her health back, her family back, her life back…

The pen stopped. She looked over the two letters, the handwriting scribbing from her fast writing in her urgent joy. There was a window that looked about the gardens where the birds sang, flowers bloomed, and now and again, little creatures walked about without fear.

And Loki…Loki who danced with her, spoke with her, looked at her- no, not only looked, who saw her, understood her, listened to her. Loki, Loki, Loki who made her feel…feel…

She was going to miss it…and she was going to miss him if she had to be honest with herself…but…she was here to be healed. And it had happened. Her task was done. 

She went over to her room with the chest.

“Send this first one to the Ambroses’ in London, and send this one on the right to my house in Aldwinter.” she requested.

The letters vanished.

In the meantime of the children’s travel, Stella was busy as a bee. She kitted little blue dishcloths from the parlor. She gave one to each healer and to the friends she made in Asgard. She wished she could have seen Thor once again, but there was no time now. And the palace would not let her in as a mortal and a peasant. But she did leave him a note should he come back.

In just a few days, she received word that the children had arrived. And she could return.

Stella was given the dresses and trinkets she wanted to keep. Another brown box with the pebbles and flowers she found would be there. She was allowed to use the chests to write to her Asgardian friends. 

The carriage was going to take her back. This time, Loki’s horses would carry it. She stepped out as the god helped her get her new belongings packed safely.  She was bedecked in a traveling gown of a blue jacket and skirt. She was given a small purse and a smart hat with a tiny veil to complete the outfit.

Loki held out his hand, studying the difference in size, her warmth, and her bare skin on his bare skin. But the door was left open. 

“Loki…I want to speak to you, please. You have shown me so much. You made me better in every way.  My body…and my spirit. I don’t feel as if I am the same since I met yout…thank you.”

He smiled at her. Though he was a little sad. His hands then conjured something in the air.

From his pocket, he got out a dagger in a small sheath. Stella foudn her eyes got big. He pulled it out to show it had a blue hilt and ancient norse on the blade.

“I would be surprised if you had any practical use for it…but I wanted you to have this gift. So you could use it to remember me.” he offered.

She accepted it preciously. “It’s beautiful…thank you” she marveled, tucking it into a safe corner where it wouldn’t leave its hilt. 

“And Stella…”

He paused. She turned her head to him.

The words laid heavy on him. They called him “silvertongue” and yet his tongue felt heavy in his mouth. 

“Stella I…I have to tell you…tell you that…”

Her eyes went a little wide, her plump lips barely parted. He got closer. But everything froze. No- it was too much. He knew where and to who she was returning to. It would ruin all things good between them.

He couldn’t …no, he never could tell her.

“Stella, I hope…when you return…that you are happy.” Loki finished.

She relaxed and smiled at him.

“I will be. And I hope you see your family again too…and that you are the happiest god in all the realms.”

She cupped his cheek with her lovely smile. Then she released and settled in.

With a deep breath, Loki lifted his hand and twirled one finger. A portal appeared at the end of the path. The driver from the palace nodded- a stout, somber man who said nothing and minded his business. He clicked the reigns.

The carriage went through the glowing, golden portal. Once it vanished through, it closed. Gradual and sudden as a dying firework. 

Loki stood there. Half hoping it would return any second…

It did not.

He found himself blinking, a quiet tear going down his face.

He wanted her to stay. If he had his way with all things, she’d stay with him in that palace for…for as much time would let them. Haunting him in every corner. Hearing her footsteps, her voice, a flick of blue that he knew for sure was her. Only this time it wouldn’t be her.

But internally, he would never forget Stella. And she would always be there, at least in his mind.

He loved her.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Aldwinter was astonished when on its muddy streets, there emerged a grand carriage. They all gasped and huddled out of doors or smashed their faces into windows to see it. Such finery down here in this humble place! They could practically see the mud sticking to the wheels already.

When they caught who was inside, there was even more tittering about them.

“Why…is that…Mrs. Ransome? Alive! And looking quite well if I dare say! Going through the towns paraded like a princess! What is she doing?”

The carriage arrived before the white house on the field. 

Jo was outside, swinging about a stick, imagining it a sword. Her little kerchief on her head slipped and she pulled it up. Then she turned and dropped her stick as it headed right to her. 

Inside the window, she saw a blonde head and a kind smile. 

Jo opened the door and the dog began to bark from inside. Her brown braid flipping in the air as she was running about. 

“Mama! Mama is home! Everyone! Hurry!” 

The three children darted out first. The grand carriage stopped and out from the door was a fine lady in a blue travel suit.

She lifted her veil and they gasped.

She smiled, tears in her eyes.

“Darlings- my beautiful darlings!” she said.

“Mama!” they all gasped,.

They all ran forward and she knelt down to embrace them and ksis their heads, their joy glowring. The dog was barking and there were heavy, masculine footsteps from a study hurrying down the stairs to follow them. 

All in that house beaming with the light of joy.

 And the lonely god realms away knew it was happening, as he stood in his castle and smiled with tears in his eyes.

[makiswirl]

can i just say. and this is probably a niche hill to die on. that i am so gobsmacked every time someone vaguely hints at the idea that jotaro doesn't care meaningfully for the other crusaders, usually particularly kakyoin and joseph, when those two actually tend to be the ones he reacts to being hurt the hardest

like he cares for his loved ones!!!! that literally plays into his character motives in every single part he shows up in!!! stop lying to me!!!!!!!

[opikiquu]

aventurine pl. Plea s e . PLLEEEEEEASE

[ganondoodle]

a wild assortement of comic wip screenshots and a random doodle that i posted to twitter but not here

(this doodle here is of Raal (aka demise before he became a deity) but whatever happens here isnt anything 'canon', i just randomly doodled him to try a loosen up my painting style bc when i work on the comic i tend to concentrate too much of rendering it perfectly and i dont like that)

[narugen]

keep thinking abt hoshina and mina GOD.. (spoilers for manga and kn8 bside)

given what hoshina said about his previous division treating him like a burden/parasite just because he can’t handle firearms and specializes in his swords… how tiring must it have been to have to work with those people each mission despite having a common goal?

and how tiring must it have been to be constantly told off by his own father for wanting to continue his family’s tradition, or to be told to give up on being part of the jakdf by his own teacher -

before mina, a high ranking commander personally reached out to him, to recruit him into her team?

the fact that she didn’t see him during joint trainings and think: why bother with that? why bother with blades when bigger kaiju will appear? when she personally deals with bigger kaiju herself.

but she instead saw him and thought: he can help me, he can cover my weaknesses (mina not being able to handle a vegetable peeler is hilarious) and he’s someone i can trust

she sees potential in him, she sees how he can excel within her division, she saw hoshina and as captain - has probably heard everyone talk shit about him but she was still certain that he’d be one of her division’s greatest asset

(and even when platoon leader ebina refused to let hoshina help out, mina stood firm on her decision and her claim that hoshina would be useful. when she asked him if he could take down the big kaiju, and he could only promise saving the child within it - she believed him, took his word for it and waited until he carried out his promise.)

and now hoshina is the vice captain, putting faith in a new recruit whom most people wouldn’t have believed in… full fucking cycle..

tldr: it makes me rly fucking emotional to think about how hoshina was given a reason to continue improving with his swords after being told to give up all this time… and how mina had never once thought his abilities were useless 👍

also makes me crazy how protective he is of his position as vice captain, as the person who stands by captain ashiro’s side…

[fitpacs]

,

[todayisafridaynight]

I’m fairly new to the fandom, but I do have a question if you can answer it! Why do people ship Daigo with Aoki / Masato? I tried looking to see if they’ve interacted before, but couldn’t find anything! Sorry for asking I’m just </3 dumb AND I LOVE YOUR ART OF THEM!!! Nerd looking ahhhhhh

hi ! welcome to the community i hope you're having a lovely time so far and ty for enjoyin my stuff :) no need for apologies it's a very fair question to have :]

i cant speak for everyone (all. ten people into masadai anyway) but Personally To Me i just think the idea of them together is very funny. thats quite literally it im afraid..