#i feel he enjoys watching you and you don't know you are being watched

[ddejavvu]

Mean!Logan Manhandles You

Pairing: Logan Howlett x Reader

Contents/Warnings: smut, minors dni. mean!logan, manhandling, fingering (almost? not to completion), don't like, don't read.

Logan's movements can be described as nothing less than pushy, rough and strong as he manhandles you into the dingy, single-stalled bathroom of the divebar you're drinking in tonight. It's a hole-in-the-wall place, but that's what Logan likes; somewhere where you won't be ogled as he drinks to what most people would consider excess. He doesn't like attention, and he thrives in the shadow of the bar's less-than-packed interior. Those that are here are drinking to forget, and you and Logan are left to enjoy yourselves.

"Let's see." He hums, his voice gruff as he pins you to his chest in the bathroom. You feel his greedy hand prying at the waistband of your panties, and you yelp in shock when his large fingers snake down across your bum and move aside the pad of your underwear. He prods experimentally at your cunt, peering down your back at your choice of dress.

"Mm, those little white lacy ones. Love those- s'real easy to tell when they're wet."

"Logan, I'm- we're in public." You gasp, feeling his fingers snake into the entrance of your cunt, curved around your ass, "Please, don't make me- aah! I- I don't want anyone to know."

"They won't know." He snickers, rubbing persuasively against your sensitive clit, pressing in just the right way to induce the first of many jolts of pleasure through your core, "They're all trying to drown themselves in liquor."

He retracts his fingers ever-so-slightly, pumping them as far into your cunt as it allows for being so unprepared. Watching Logan knock back shots does send that funny feeling down between your legs, but you're not quite dripping yet. Still, there's enough for him to push his fingers into you, and you sigh shakily into his chest. You rub your face against the cool leather of Logan's worn jacket, leaning into his touches and gasping slightly when he manages to slip his fingers slightly deeper into your cunt. You part your legs, standing at an awkward angle, clutching the waistband of his jeans for sturdiness.

"I prefer to drown myself in pussy." Logan muses, all at once retracting his hand and leaving you with a crippling, uncomfortable sensation of emptiness after being so suddenly full, "But if you really don't want me to do it here, I won't."

The waistband of your panties snaps back against your skin as he removes his fingers, and he tucks them into his mouth, tongue sweeping over them to clean them of your essence.

Now you're standing alone, so drastically cold and empty and hungry that you glance at the lock on the door, debating whether or not you're willing to risk being caught naked in a dive bar.

"Let's go, then." Logan hums, his fingers now clean as he hangs his hand limply by his side, "I'm not done drinking, and I'm sure you don't wanna be caught spread-eagle on this bathroom floor. You ready, sweetheart?"

He offers you the same hand he'd prodded at you with only moments before, and you stare at his large, rough fingers like you might be able to telekinetically move them back to where they were. Instead you take them into your own hand, dragging Logan out with a sudden burst of energy: The faster you finish here, the faster you can get home.

"Atta girl." He chuckles darkly, landing a hefty smack against your ass as you tug him in tow, "'Keep ogling me while I drink, sweetheart: as soon as those panties are soaked through I'm layin' you down in the back seat."

[itneverendshere]

the first relapse being the most scariest thing you’ve seen. sarah’s even calling you about him like “dads trying to get his doctor on the line just in case he od’s”

added this to what i'd already summarized in this ask!! hope everyone enjoys the angst 😔🫂 it’s a little long (around 7.1k)

death by a thousand cuts - r.c

pairing: rafe x pogue!reader (bartender!reader universe) warnings: substance abuse.

Ward’s sitting at the dining table, barely glancing up from his phone when Rafe walks in. His jaw clenches. That look—so cold, so dismissive—always sets something off in him.

“What’s wrong?” Rafe asks, already knowing this isn’t just a normal night.

Ward doesn’t answer right away, just sighs like Rafe being here is another weight on his shoulders. “Your mother called today.”

Rafe freezes.

He doesn’t have to ask which mother. Ward’s new wife has nothing to do with this. His real mom. The one who left.

He tries to stay calm, but he can feel his blood pumping, “What’d she want?”

“She says she wants to see you. You and your sisters.”

Rafe’s eyes narrow, his heart pounding harder now. The audacity of it. She always did this—popped back in when it was convenient for her, like they were just part of her life she could pick up and drop whenever she felt like it.

When was the last time? A couple of years? Before that? It doesn’t matter.

“No. I’m not doing this again.” 

“Rafe—”

“No, I said no.” The anger wells up fast, a familiar burn in his chest. He stands there, fists clenched. “She’s full of shit, dad. She doesn't give a fuck about us. So, no. I’m not seeing her.”

Ward looks up, calm as ever, but there's that edge in his eyes—the one that always makes Rafe feel like a little kid who’s stepped out of line. “You’re overreacting. She’s still your mother.”

“My mother?” He lets out a bitter laugh, but there’s no humor in it. His fists tighten at his sides. “She left. She fucking left us. She’s not my mother. She’s just some lady who couldn’t handle shit.”

Ward stands up now. “Watch your mouth.”

“Watch my mouth?” Rafe barks back, stepping forward, his anger boiling over. “I watched her leave me every time she got bored or freaked out. And you—you didn’t do shit!.You just let it happen. Let her walk out over and over.”

“That’s enough, Rafe.”

But he's not done.

He’s too pissed to think straight. “What? You gonna defend her? You’re the one who let her fuck me up like this! You—”

“Stop blaming everyone else for your problems,” Ward snaps, his voice rising. "Grow up. She left.  And you’re still standing here acting like a child over it.”

Something inside Rafe cracks. His chest tightens like someone’s squeezing the air out of him. "A child? You don't get it. You never got it. She fucked me up. She fucked all of us up, and you're still acting like it's nothing." His mind is spinning, flashing back to all those nights he was too high to breathe, too strung out to care if he woke up the next day. He feels like he’s suffocating, the anger burning too fast. “I’m not doing this again, dad. I’m not.”

Ward’s gaze turns cold. “She’s trying now. That has to count for something.”

“Trying? Trying?!” Rafe grits out, stepping forward. All those years, all those broken promises, all the times he was left wondering what the hell he did wrong to make her leave—and now Ward wants him to sit down like it’s a fucking family reunion. 

“I don’t care what you think about it, Rafe. This isn’t up for discussion. You will see her, and that’s final.”

“No. No fucking way!” He shouts, his voice shaking as he steps closer to Ward, fists clenched. “You can’t make me do this. I’m not going to sit there and pretend like everything’s okay when she’s the reason I turned into the mess I was. And you—” His chest heaves as he fights to find the words, his throat tight. “You’re just as bad as she is.”

Ward’s eyes narrow dangerously, but he continues, “Every time she left, you didn’t do a goddamn thing. You let her walk all over us. You let her leave me, leave us, and you never said a word. You’re a shitty father, just as bad as her."

Ward’s face darkens, a storm brewing behind his eyes. “Don’t you dare talk to me like that.”

“I’ll talk to you however the hell I want,” Rafe fires back, stepping even closer, eyes blazing. “You didn’t stop her. You never protected me. You sat there and watched her fuck me up and then turned around and blamed me for it. Like I was the problem.”

“You were the problem,” Ward snaps, “She didn’t know how to handle you, and neither did I. You were a fucking disaster, Rafe. And that’s on you.”

“No. You two were and are the fucking problem because you can’t let go of her.”

Ward takes a step forward, “This isn’t about you. It’s about your sisters. Sarah wants this. Weezie deserves a chance to know her mother. It’s not all about your issues, Rafe. Grow up.”

“Grow up?” He feels like he’s suffocating, “You think I’m the one who needs to grow up? 

“Enough. You will meet her, or you can leave this house right now.”

All the work he's put in, all the shit he's tried to fix, feels like it’s slipping right through his fingers. He can’t be here. Not like this. He’s out the door before he even knows what he’s doing. That itch beneath his skin is back after years, that’s how much control his parents have over him.

Rafe’s hands are still shaking as he gets into his truck, slamming the door harder than he means to. It feels like he can’t get enough air in his lungs, and his thoughts are spinning, they’re all crashing into each other at once. The fight with his father keeps replaying in his head, louder and louder, until he can’t hear anything else.

He’s gripping the steering wheel so tight his knuckles turn white. His dad’s voice, cold and cutting, telling him he’s the problem. That he’s always been the problem. His hands are shaking worse now, trembling like he’s about to snap, and there’s only one thought pounding through his mind: He can’t go to you like this.

The thought of walking through your door, this messed up, makes him feel sick. You’ve seen him at his worst before, but this… this feels different. He can’t let you see him like this—not the old Rafe. Not the one who almost lost everything.

You don’t need to see that. You don’t deserve it.

He knows where he can go instead. Somewhere he shouldn’t, somewhere he swore he’d never go again. But right now, it feels like the only place that makes sense. His head’s spinning, his body buzzing with leftover adrenaline and anger, and he just needs it to stop.

So, he turns the key in the ignition and drives. It doesn’t take long to get to Barry’s. He knows the back roads by heart, even though it’s been years. He pulls up to the small shack Barry calls home, the lights still on, music thumping faintly from inside. It’s like nothing’s changed. The same rundown place, the same shitty cars parked out front, the same smell of smoke and spilled liquor lingering in the air.

Rafe sits there for a minute, gripping the steering wheel, breathing heavy. He shouldn’t be here. He knows that. 

He climbs out of the truck, shoving his hands into his pockets to keep them from shaking, and heads toward the door. The second he steps inside, the familiar smell of stale beer and weed hits him like a wave, bringing back memories he thought he’d buried.

Barry’s lounging on the couch, a joint hanging from his mouth, lazily flipping through channels on the TV.

“Country Club!”, Barry drawls when he notices him, smirking around the joint. “Now this is a surprise. Didn’t think I’d ever see you walk through that door again. Thought you were all clean now, with your pretty little girlfriend.”

He tenses at the mention of you. But he can’t walk out now. Not after what just happened with Ward. Not when everything inside him feels like it’s about to blow.

“I just need something,” Rafe mutters, avoiding Barry’s eyes, already regretting this but not enough to stop.

Barry raises an eyebrow, amused. “Something, huh? You know, you’ve got a real habit of showing up here when you’re all fucked up.” He laughs, low and mocking. “What’s the matter this time? Daddy issues again?”

His jaw tightens. “Just give me what I want.”

Barry leans back, flicking ash onto the floor. “You sure you wanna go down that road again, man? Thought you were past this shit.”

“I don’t care,” Rafe snaps, his voice low, shaking with frustration and something darker. “You know what I want. Go get it.”

There’s a pause, and for a second, Barry just looks at him, sizing him up. Then, with a shrug, he gets up, disappearing into the back room. Rafe waits, heart pounding in his ears, staring at the floor, trying not to think about what he’s doing. About what this means.

Barry comes back a minute later, a small bag of coke in his hand. He tosses it onto the table in front of Rafe, “Knock yourself out.”

He doesn’t hesitate. He grabs the bag, his fingers already moving on autopilot as he pulls out his wallet and shoves a roll of cash toward Barry. He knows this is stupid, reckless. He knows this is going to hurt you, more than anything else. But ll he wants is to forget. Just for a little while.

His hands stop shaking the second he takes that first line.

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You’re already drained when you step through the front door of the house, kicking off your shoes and throwing your bag onto the couch. The sticky summer air is clinging to your skin, and all you want is a cold shower and to crash in bed. 

The day’s been dragging—work was a shitshow, and all you’ve been thinking about is Rafe. You haven’t heard from him since this morning, which isn’t weird, but there’s been this nagging feeling in your chest, like something’s off.

“Hey,” Monica calls from the kitchen as you grab a glass of water and lean against the counter. She’s scrolling through her phone, half-distracted. Milo’s at kindergarten.

“Hey,” you mumble back. “Everything alright?”

She shrugs, not looking up. “Yeah, mostly.” She pauses, frowning slightly, like she’s trying to piece something together. “I think I saw Rafe’s truck earlier. Over by Barry’s place.”

You blink, trying to process what she just said. “Barry’s?”

“Yeah, you know. The guy who used to sell—Whatever.” Monica shrugs again, more casual than you feel. “I was driving back from work, and I swear it was Rafe’s truck parked outside Barry’s house.”

Your stomach drops. Instantly.

“You’re sure?”

“Looked like his truck,” your sister says, “Thought it was weird. Figured maybe he was helping someone out or something.”

But you know better.

A cold sweat breaks out over your skin. You’ve heard Rafe talk about Barry. Back when things were bad—really bad—he was the one who kept him hooked, who kept pulling him deeper. He told you everything about those years when he was drowning in addication and Barry’s name came up more than once.

And if his truck’s outside Barry’s, you know something’s wrong.

It’s like a pit in your stomach, this gnawing feeling that’s been sitting with you all day. 

“What? Why’s that such a big deal?”

You swallow, trying to keep your voice steady, but it’s impossible. “Rafe doesn’t… he doesn’t go there anymore. He hasn’t in years.”

Monica frowns, finally understanding. “Oh. Shit. You think something’s wrong?”

“I don’t know,” you mutter, already pulling out your phone, fingers wobbly as you open your messages. You scroll through the last few texts from Rafe, but there’s nothing out of the ordinary. Except the silence. He’s usually better at checking in, especially when he knows you’ve had a long day. But today? Nothing.

You stare at your screen, debating if you should call him. But deep down, you already know something’s happened. He wouldn’t go to Barry’s unless things were really bad.

“I’m sure it’s nothing,” your sister offers, but her voice is hesitant, like she’s not sure. “Maybe he was just stopping by. It doesn’t mean—”

But she doesn’t finish, and you don’t need her to. You know what it means. You feel it in your bones. He’s back in that dark place—And he didn’t come to you. He went to Barry instead.

Why didn’t he come to you?

“I need to go,” you say, your voice coming out more panicked than you’d like, but you can’t help it. Your heart’s racing, your mind is spinning, and the only thing you can focus on is Rafe. You’re grabbing your keys off the counter before your sister can even answer.

“Wait, what? Where are you going?” Monica asks, a bit alarmed now, but you don’t have time to explain.

“I need to find Rafe.”

Your sister steps forward, “Is it really that serious? I mean, maybe he’s just—”

“He’s not just anything,” you cut her off, shaking your head. “If he’s at Barry’s, it’s bad.”

Rafe had told you everything about his past—every ugly detail about the years he spent losing himself, the drugs, the fights, the constant mess of it all. He had opened up to you after your first time together. And for the past two years you’d seen him, the real Rafe, the one who tried so damn hard to be better.

And now? He’s slipping. And you weren’t there.

Your mind is racing as you drive. You think about how good things have been with him—how far he’s come. He’s not the guy he used to be. He doesn’t party like he used to, doesn’t need to numb everything with lines of coke or bottles of whiskey.

He told you about his time in rehab, how scared he was of becoming that version of himself again. But something must’ve happened.

Something big. 

Why didn’t he tell you?

The thought is suffocating. You know him—he’s reckless and impulsive sometimes, but he’s been so careful with you, always making sure you never had to see the side of him that scared him the most. He’s opened up about his struggles with anxiety, about how he sometimes still smokes weed to take the edge off, but this… this is different. 

This is worse.

It had to be Ward. He’s has always had this chokehold on him, making him feel like he’s never good enough. And whenever his mom gets brought up—whenever she’s even mentioned—it messes with him in ways you can barely understand. She’s the one person who could make him spiral, and Ward is the one person who could push him over that edge.

You slam your fist against the steering wheel, frustrated.

He’s dealing with this alone, and now he’s gone back to Barry. To coke. To everything that almost killed him before. You pull up to his place, your stomach churning. You can see Rafe’s truck parked haphazardly outside, and your heart skips a beat. He’s here.

He’s here, and he didn’t come to you.

You sit there for a moment, gripping the wheel, trying to calm yourself down, trying to figure out what the hell you’re even going to say when you see him.

You get out of the car and practically run toward Barry’s door. You know this place, know the people who come here and what they’re looking for. You’re pretty sure your dad spent half his life here, when Barry’s dad still ran the business. 

You don’t even knock. You push the door open. Barry’s on the couch, looking up lazily when you walk in, and you see Rafe—sitting in the corner, eyes bloodshot, jaw clenched.

He looks like a ghost.

Barry snickers from the couch, taking a drag from his joint. “Well, well, look who it is. Didn’t think I’d see the two of you here together.”

“Shut the fuck up, Barry,” you snap, glaring at him before turning your full attention to Rafe. “What are you doing here?”

“W-What?”

“Baby, look at you.”

He tries to stand, his movements slow, like his body isn’t responding the way he wants it to. His eyes are bloodshot, unfocused, his pupils blown wide, and he’s swaying slightly, barely able to keep his balance.

“I just... I needed to clear my head,” he mumbles, the words slurring together. His hand goes to his hair, but it’s shaking, and he can’t even look at you. “It’s not—”

“It’s not what?” You feel your heart breaking with every word, the cracks widening as you take in the mess of him, his clothes disheveled, his face pale, his hands twitching.

He stumbles again, trying to step toward you, but he’s so high he can barely stand. “I didn’t want... I didn’t want you to see me like this,” he rasps out, finally meeting your eyes for just a second before looking away. “Didn’t want you to... think I was still... still that guy.”

“You’re not that guy anymore,” you say softly, even though right now, he looks too much like that guy. “But you’re acting like him.”

His head drops, and he looks down at the floor, his shoulders sagging, defeated. “Didn’t know...what else to do.”

“And you didn’t think to come to me?” Your voice breaks on the last word, “You went to Barry instead of me?”

“Hey now—"

“I told you to shut the fuck up,” You almost scream in Barry's face, your chest rising with each breath you take. Rafe can't stand to look you in the eyes right now. He can't see the disappointment.

“You always know what to do. You call me. You come to me. Why would you run here? Why would you go back to this?” You glance at Barry, who’s watching the whole scene with a smirk on his face like he’s enjoying every second of your heartbreak. “You’re better than this. Get in the car. We can talk about this.”

But he shakes his head, his breath shaky. “Can’t… can’t be with you right now.”

“Why?” 

 “Just… too much. Hurts too much.” He looks down, guilt washing over him. “Didn’t want you to see... this.”

“Then get in the car. We can figure this out together.” Your voice cracks, the hurt pouring out.

He hesitates, shaking his head again. “I… can’t.”

It pushes something inside you.

Maybe you’ll regret it later but now it’s all you can think about. If he doesn’t want your help, he doesn’t want you. And if he doesn’t want you right now he doesn’t deserve to want you when he’s better. 

“You can either get in this car and fight with me, or you can stay here. But if you stay—”

“Y-You’ll leave?” He’s looking at you despite the fog in his brain, not sure if he’s hearing you correctly, “Leave me?”

“I didn’t say that—”

“E-everyon leaves right?"

He’s never said anything like that to you before.

“I’m not leaving you, but if you stay here, with him,” you jerk your head in Barry’s direction, “I can’t help you. I can’t pull you out of this if you don’t want to get out.”

You know you can’t fix this for him. He has to make the choice. His eyes dart toward Barry for a second, and Barry just shrugs, clearly not giving a damn about anything but his next hit. 

“I love you, but I can’t watch you destroy yourself.”

For a second, you think maybe you’ve gotten through to him, because his eyes soften behind all that darkness. But then he shakes his head again, looking at the floor like he’s already made his decision.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” he mutters, barely audible. “But I don’t know how to stop.”

Your heart breaks a little more at that. “Yes you do, baby. You do. You just need to believe it.”

If he doesn’t come with you, you’re not sure where this ends for him. He’s stuck, frozen in place, trapped by whatever’s going on in his head, and you realize that no matter how much you love him, no matter how much you want to save him, you can’t force him to choose you. You can’t make him get in the car.

“You have to decide,” you say quietly, voice breaking. “Me or this. You can’t have both.”

Rafe looks up at you, eyes glossy, and for a second, you think he might actually say something — something that will make this all okay, something that will bring him back to you. But he doesn’t. He just stands there, torn apart by his demons, his lips pressed into a line. You feel the pit in your stomach grow deeper.

“Okay,” you nod, barely holding back tears. “I guess that’s my answer.”

You turn and walk out the door, your heart shattering with every inch of distance you put between you and him. You don't look back, because if you do, you know you’ll drag him out yourself, and you can’t do that. Not now. But as you get into your car and grip the steering wheel with your entire strength, the sobs come anyway.

You don’t want to leave him. God, you don’t want to. But he didn’t choose you. Not this time.

Rafe doesn’t even register the sound of the door slamming behind you. It’s like he’s watching everything happen from somewhere far away, his body numb, his mind completely blank. You said something, you were upset—he knows that much—but the words never really hit him. They just floated around. He sinks back down into the chair, staring at the floor, heart racing but completely detached. The room is spinning a little, his chest tight, but he can’t feel anything. Can’t let himself feel anything. It’s better this way. Safer.

You left.

He knows that happened, but it doesn’t mean anything right now. He can’t process it. Not in this state. Not when the drugs are still in his system, making everything feel like it’s underwater. He blinks a few times, trying to get his brain to catch up, but it’s not working. It’s just static.

Barry’s voice is somewhere in the background, laughing about something, but he doesn’t hear him either. It’s like the world’s on mute. His body’s still buzzing from the high, fingers twitching, muscles tense, but inside? Inside he’s empty.

Hours pass, maybe. Time doesn’t exist here, not when he’s this far gone. The light changes through the window, but it could be minutes or days for all he knows. He drifts in and out, his head heavy, eyes closing, but sleep never comes. Just darkness. Maybe he did too many lines.

At some point, he wakes up—if you can call it that. His body feels like it weights two hundred pounds, his head is spinning, his mouth dry and sour. He blinks against the light, his vision blurry, trying to figure out where the hell he is. 

It takes a second for everything to catch up. To realize he’s at Barry’s.

And then, it hits him all at once. You.

You were here. You were mad. And then you were gone.

His chest tightens, a sick, sinking feeling crawling up his throat. He sits up too fast, his head swimming. Fuck.He rubs his hands over his face, trying to calm his breathing. His thoughts are still sluggish. You left. You walked out, and he… he didn’t stop you. Didn’t even try.

Why didn’t he stop you?

Before he can think too much about it, Barry saunters in, a smug grin on his face, holding a beer in one hand, a joint in the other. He takes one look at Rafe, slouched and disoriented, and lets out a low, mocking laugh.

“Well, well, well,” Barry drawls, leaning against the doorframe, clearly enjoying every second of this. “Look who’s finally awake. You done fucked it up, Country Club.”

Rafe doesn’t say anything. Can’t.

Barry raises an eyebrow, taking a drag from the joint, shaking his head. “Damn, man. Thought you were smarter than that.”

Rafe just stares at the floor, his stomach twisting. He can’t remember exactly what he said to you. But the look on your face… he can’t forget that. The disappointment. The hurt.

Barry chuckles, settling down on the couch across from him. “What was it? You running your mouth again, or did she just get tired of you being a fuckup?”

The shame is settling in now, creeping up his spine. He doesn’t want to hear this. Doesn’t want to hear anything. But Barry just keeps going, like he’s enjoying watching him fall apart.

“Should’ve seen it coming, man,” Barry continues, “Girl like that? She was bound to leave eventually.”

If he felt strong enough he would’ve punched that joint out of his mouth, his teeth following next. Who the fuck did he think he was to talk about you like he knew you.

He knows Barry’s just trying to get under his skin, but it’s working. He feels sick. He presses his hands against his eyes, trying to push it all away, but it’s no use.

“You done fucked it up, Country Club,” Barry repeats, leaning back with a satisfied smirk. “And now you’re right back here. Same old Rafe.”

Same old Rafe. He told himself he’d never end up here again. He swore he was done with this. Done with Barry, done with the drugs, done with the guy he used to be.

But now? Now he’s right back where he started. And the worst part? He let you see it. He doesn’t know how to fix this. Doesn’t know if he even can fix this. But the one thing he does know? He should’ve crawled after you.

Rafe doesn’t say a word.

He doesn’t need to. His hands are already moving, reaching for the small bag of coke on the table. His fingers tremble as they close around it, the weight of the plastic barely registering in his hand. 

Barry watches him, that same smug grin never leaving his face, taking another drag of his joint, exhaling a cloud of smoke with a low chuckle. He’s not surprised. Not at all.

"Of course," Barry mutters, shaking his head in amusement. “Of course, you're takin’ that shit with you.”

Rafe’s jaw clenches, but he doesn’t fight him. He can feel Barry’s eyes on him, feel the judgment radiating off him, but he can’t bring himself to care. Not anymore. 

Not after everything he’s already fucked up. He stuffs the bag in his jacket pocket, standing up on shaky legs, the room still spinning a little as he stumbles toward the door. His mind is on autopilot, moving without him, as if the drugs are the only thing holding him together. 

"Attaboy, Country Club," Barry calls after him, voice dripping with condescension, laughter bubbling up from deep in his chest. “Just keep runnin’. That’s what you’re good at, right?”

Rafe’s hand tightens on the doorknob, his teeth grinding together, but he doesn’t turn back. He can’t look at Barry—he can’t look at any of this—so he does what he always does.

He walks away. He doesn’t think. He just keeps moving, out of the door, out into the night, the bag burning a hole in his pocket.

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It’s been two weeks since you last saw him.

Two weeks of silence, of unanswered calls and texts that sit there on your screen and make you cry every time you look at them. You told him you’d leave, but you didn’t mean it. You never meant it.

You just needed him to fight. For himself. But he didn’t.

And now, you can’t stop thinking about him. It physically hurts.

Every morning you wake up with this heavy impossible ache in your chest, and it only gets worse as the day goes on. You keep wondering where he is, if he’s okay, if he’s even thinking about you or if he’s too far gone to care.

You miss him. God, you miss him.

Now you don’t even know where he is. If he’s still spiraling or if he’s hit rock bottom.

You’ve barely been able to keep it together at work. Every time you try to focus, that image of Rafe in his absolute worst slips in, and you never get anything done. You’ve called in sick twice, just to stay in bed and cry, because you can barely breathe.

You’ve reached out to Sarah a few times, trying to understand what’s going on, but she doesn’t know much either. "He’s off the grid," she’d told you last time, "Doesn’t want to talk to anyone."

That was a week ago.

And now you’re sitting on the edge of your bed, staring at your phone, debating if you should try one more time. One more call. One more text.

Because this can’t possibly end this way. 

He’s the love of your life. 

Sarah’s name flashes on the screen, and you nearly drop the damn thing. “Sarah?”

“Hey,” You can hear it immediately—something’s wrong. “Are you home right now?”

Your stomach drops, “Yeah. Why? What’s going on?”

You can hear her take a shaky breath. “It’s Rafe. He’s, shit, it’s bad. Like, really bad.”

 “What do you mean, bad? Sarah, what happened?”

“Dad’s trying to get his doctor on the line,” she says, her voice cracking. “Just in case he ODs.”

Your blood turns ice cold.

“He’s not picking up,” she continues, her words spilling out in a rush, like she’s trying to keep herself from breaking down. “Dad’s freaking out, and Rafe—he’s not making sense. He’s been on a bender for days, and now he’s just... he’s not there. I don’t know what to do. I thought maybe you could—”

“I’m coming,” you say, cutting her off, already standing, your body moving on autopilot.

You hang up before she can say anything else, grabbing your keys and rushing out the door. The drive to Tannyhill  feels like it takes forever as your mind comes up with worst-case scenarios. You’ve seen Rafe struggle before—you’ve seen the dark places he’s been—but if Sarah’s calling you, if Ward’s getting a doctor involved….

You barely notice you’ve already parked the car, barely notice the front door swinging open as you run inside. The house is quiet, too quiet.

Sarah’s standing by the staircase, her eyes red and puffy. She doesn’t say anything, just nods toward the living room.

And that’s when you see him.

He’s slumped on the couch, his body limp, his eyes half-open but glazed over, like he’s not even seeing what’s in front of him. His skin is pale, clammy, his hands twitching every few seconds, and there’s a sheen of sweat on his forehead. He looks like half a version of himself, his breathing shallow and uneven.

Ward’s pacing the room, his phone pressed to his ear. “I don’t care if he’s busy, get him here now. He’s going to fucking die.”

“Rafe?” you call, stepping toward him. But he doesn’t react. Doesn’t even flinch. He just stares ahead, eyes unfocused, like he’s not even aware you’re there.

Sarah’s standing behind you now, her voice low, “He won’t talk to us. He’s too far gone.”

You sink down beside him, your heart breaking at the sight of him like this. You reach out, hesitating for a second before gently placing your hand on his arm.

“Rafe,” your voice wavers. “Baby, it’s me. Please… please talk to me.”

But there’s nothing. Just silence.

His head lolls to the side, and his eyes meet yours—but it’s like looking at a ghost. The person you know, the person you love, isn’t there. Not right now. Not in this moment. And it kills you.

You keep whispering his name, pleading for him to wake up, to do something, but nothing works.

Ward's still on the phone, pacing like a caged animal, his voice a angry hum in the background. His eyes flick over to you every few minutes, but he doesn’t say anything. Sarah’s standing off to the side, her arms wrapped around herself, her eyes red and puffy from crying. You can see how scared she is, and you’re glad they got Weezie out of the house before she could see this. 

After what feels like an eternity, the front door bursts open, and a doctor rushes in, followed by a paramedic with a bag of medical equipment. The doctor, some guy Ward must have on speed dial for situations like this, doesn’t waste any time. He kneels down beside Rafe, checking his pulse, his pupils, his breathing.

“This is bad,” the doctor mutters, shaking his head. “He’s lucky he’s still breathing.”

Lucky. 

The paramedic moves in, setting up an oxygen mask, checking Rafe’s vitals, and it feels like the room is spinning. You try to stay calm, try to keep your hand on Rafe.

Ward finally hangs up the phone and stands there, watching as the doctor works. “Is he gonna be okay?” he asks, his voice strained because god forbid he shows more emotion.

The doctor glances up, his expression grim. “We need to take him in. I’m stabilizing him, but if this had gone on any longer, we’d be having a different conversation right now.”

You feel like you're going to be sick.

The paramedic starts prepping him for transport, and you stand there, helpless, watching as they move him onto a stretcher. His body looks so limp, so fragile. They’re talking about taking him to the hospital for observation, but all you can hear is the blood pounding in your ears.

Ward steps forward, he watches his son being carried away. For the first time, you see it—real fear in his eyes. 

“I should’ve seen this coming,” Ward says, his voice shaking. “I should’ve stopped it. This is my fault.”

You feel something snap inside of you.  “I’m sure it fucking is.”

He doesn’t say anything. He just stands there like a fucking idiot. Sarah is beside you now, her hand on your arm, gently pulling you back. “Let’s go,” she mutters,“We should go with him.”

You nod, swallowing as you follow her out of the house, leaving Ward standing there alone.

You climb into your car, Sarah beside you, and you both sit there for a moment in silence, watching as the ambulance pulls away, taking Rafe with it.

“I’m scared,” Sarah admits. 

You close your eyes, and nod. “So am I.”

You have to remind yourself to breathe. She sits beside you, staring straight ahead and neither of you says another word.

The hospital is quiet when you arrive, eerily so. You both rush in, Sarah at your side, searching for the emergency room and after a bunch of paperwork and hurried conversations, you’re finally led to the waiting room. The doctor said they’d keep you updated, and you sit down on those stiff, uncomfortable chairs, the waiting begins.

Minutes drag by like hours. You try to text or scroll through your phone, anything to distract yourself, but you can’t focus. Every time you close your eyes, all you can see is Rafe. It’s like your brain is stuck on replay, and you can’t shut it off. Sarah’s over there biting her lip until it’s bleeding. Every now and then, she looks at you, like she’s about to say something, but then she doesn’t. And you don’t either. You can’t. What the hell would you even say? It feels like you’re both waiting for the worst possible news and just pretending you’re not.

After what feels like forever, the doctor finally comes through the doors, and Sarah and you jump up at the same time. 

The doctor sighs, and he looks tired, like this isn’t the first time he’s delivered news like this today.

“We stabilized him,” he says, “He was really close to an overdose, but we got to him in time. He’s still unconscious, but his vitals are stable for now. We’ll keep him under observation for at least 24 hours.”

You finally take a deep breath, but it’s shaky, and it doesn’t feel real. 

Sarah doesn’t even hesitate. The second the doctor says Rafe’s stable, she’s heading towards his room, like she needs to see him, to make sure for herself that he’s really still here. You don’t follow her, though. Your legs feel like they’re made of concrete, if you move, you’ll just collapse right there in the hallway.

As much as you want to be with him, to hold his hand or just… see him breathing, you know you can’t handle it. Not right now. You’ve spent the last two weeks trying to hold it together, and this is the first time you feel like you can finally breathe. Like you’re not suffocating with worry.

What you need more than anything is to get out of here. To just breathe, to close your eyes for more than a minute without the image of him passed out, strung out, burned into your brain. You need sleep. You need to feel something other than panic. He’s gonna be okay. Maybe not perfect, maybe not healed, but for now, he’s alive. 

The next day, you finally gather the courage to see him. You feel like you might throw up at any second. You stop outside his room, staring at the door for what feels like forever, trying to convince yourself to go inside.

He’s lying in bed, looking like he barely walked out of this one alive, but he’s awake. His eyes meet yours the second you step inside, and you feel like you’re going to start crying at any given second. 

“Hey,” You manage to say, You don’t trust your voice to be strong enough to say something more.

Rafe blinks, like he’s surprised to see you. His voice is rough when he speaks, cracked from everything his body’s been through. “You came.”

“Of course I did,” He’s genuinely shocked. As if he thought you’d just walk away from all of this. From him. You swallow hard, taking a step closer to the bed. “Of course I came, Rafe.” Your voice is soft, barely holding together. “Where else would I be?”

He doesn’t answer. His eyes flicker away from yours, settling on the IV in his arm, like he can’t stand to look at you. 

“Sarah called me. She was scared. She didn’t know what to do.”

Rafe’s jaw tightens, but he still won’t meet your eyes. “She shouldn’t have,” he mutters, his voice hoarse, barely there.

“She shouldn’t have had to, Rafe. You scared the shit out of her—out of everyone. And I’ve been sitting here for two weeks, waiting for you to say something, anything, and you just—” You stop yourself, your throat closing up, and you bite your lip to keep from crying. “You almost died.”

You can see his chest rising and falling slowly, and for a split second, you think he’s not going to answer at all. That he’s just going to keep shutting you out. 

“I didn’t want you to see me like this,” he says quietly. “I didn’t want you to see how fucked up I am.”

Your heart breaks all over again because you’ve already seen it. You’ve seen every part of him—the good, the bad, the absolute worst. And you’re still here. You’re still standing in this stupid hospital room because you love him. He shakes his head, his hands gripping the edge of the blanket like he’s trying to hold himself together.

“I don’t deserve you.”

You step closer to the bed, sitting down carefully on the edge, and for the first time in weeks, you feel like you can breathe. Just a little bit.

“Don’t say that,” you reach for his hand. He flinches at first but doesn’t pull away when you lace your fingers with his. “You’re gonna be okay. We’ll get through this. But you can’t keep pushing me away. I need you to let me help you.”

He closes his eyes, his face twisting in pain, “Ward wanted us to meet mom and I just—”

You’ve never fully understood what his mom meant to him, or maybe what losing her did to him, now you do. That deep-rooted pain that always seems to haunt him when he talks about her is stronger than you’ve ever seen before. 

“I didn’t want you to see this mess. I don’t want anyone to. I’m a fucking disaster. Every time I try to fix something, I just make it worse. I just—” He breaks off, his jaw clenching like he’s trying to swallow down the rest of his words, the ones he can’t say out loud.

“You spent years sober, that’s not easy,” You scoot closer, wrapping your arms around him carefully, not caring if he feels like a mess or if you’re being too much. You just want him to feel like he’s not alone. “Baby, I know you’re hurting,” you murmur into his shoulder, “But I’m not going anywhere.”

“You should,” He confesses, “I hurt you.”

“You have,” you admit, “But that doesn’t mean I’m leaving. I’m not gonna give up on you.”

He looks away, like he doesn’t believe you, like he’s waiting for you to just walk out of that hospital room and never look back. But you don’t.

You tighten your grip on his hand, "You don’t get to decide that for me.  I’m still here because I love you. Even when you push me away.”

“You shouldn’t love me,” he whispers, like it’s some kind of fact, like it’s already been decided.

You shake your head, leaning in closer, your hand resting on his cheek. “But I do, Rafe. I always will. Even when you don’t think you deserve it, we’ll figure it out, together, okay? One step at a time.”

He nods, barely, but it's something. It’s a start.

[felibrary]

╭──╯GOOD DAYS | even as the snow falls atop his hair and the colorful fireworks launch in the distance, sylus can't help but keep his eyes off of you.

pairing: sylus x reader (gender neutral) | content & warnings: just some toothrotting fluff, bit of banter and bicker, reader is implied to be shorter than sylus, possibly ooc sylus | wordcount: 1.1k ; ficlet

author's note: this is based off his nightplume card with my own little add-ons lolll (also i don't even play lad anymore..so if you see any mischaracterizations here..yeah..)

A/N: Loll finally posted again and it's lad haha, enjoy!!

"sylus, i'm cold."

your boyfriend raises his brow and sighs, having the audacity to act disappointed. "i've warned you about the cold weather. should've listened to me about wearing a scarf," he smirks while you on the other hand only huff, frown deepening.

"well, i didn't know it'd be this cold," you shudder as the snowflakes meet your nape and slowly dissolve.

you're pretty sure you look absolutely ridiculous right now — with a runny nose and a hoarse voice complaining about something you're at fault for, to sylus who simply enjoys watching your dilemma and chuckles in amusement.

there aren’t often moments when sylus feels at ease, always on the lookout if something happens to you when he isn’t around. but he knows that if he stays by your side there won’t ever be something bad happening to you — he makes sure of that and instead decides to enjoy these simple but meaningful moments with you.

so maybe these little moments make him pay less attention to his surroundings than usual, oblivious to the snow that gets stuck in his hair and you can’t help but cackle a bit. “what?” he asks curiously. “there’s snow in your hair,” you point out. sylus’ gaze drifts up for a split-second before smiling and lowering his head. “help me,” his voice is soft as he requests you to help him.

even through hands covered in mittens, you can feel how soft sylus’ hair is, you play with his hair for a bit, rubbing your hand over his head before finally brushing the remaining snow out. “be careful, even a crow can turn into a dove in this weather,” you smile. “a crow? what a funny thing of you to say,” sylus returns your smile before turning his head away from you to look at the fireworks and so do you.

the fireworks are pretty, magnificent even. they vary in size, motive, and color but despite all of that each of them is unique and beautiful in its own way, making it unable to rip your eyes off them..besides maybe one exception.

not even a moment later, the exception in question turns to you, expectant ruby eyes staring down at you before swaying his gaze down to the snow-covered railing, smiling. "want me to draw you?" the turned-up collar of his stuffed leather jacket rises and falls along his neck as he exhales.

you follow his gaze and scoff. "sylus, what are you up to," you mutter under your breath. he doesn't respond, instead his gloved hand meets the metal railing before slowly tracing circles in the snow, and soon after you're able to recognize what he drew — a cat.

“seriously? a cat? i thought i’d at least be something more intimidating like a tiger,” you complain in faux offense. sylus only hums “do you know what you look like right now?” he doesn’t wait for you to respond before tracing lines onto the cat’s forehead.

"like a tiger that meows when it opens its mouth," he says, voice laced with sarcasm. upon seeing it, you can't help but crack a smile. "you're so stupid," you express with a shake of your head. "says the stubborn one who refused to dress warmly," he huffs before turning away from you again.

those ruby eyes full of danger and a lust for adventure soften upon seeing the shower of fireworks being cast in the sky. a mixture of bright red and blue colors paints the sky and casts a light shadow over sylus’ figure. 

you playfully roll your eyes at him, grinning as you scoop some of the snow off the railing. “sylus, you still have snow in your hair, want me to get it out for you?” you offer, a sweet smile gracing your lips. “what, you want to deepen our relationship? but if you insist,” he smirks before lowering his head.

you reach forward and unlike sylus’ expectation your hand lands on his cheek, making his eyes widen in surprise while you bite your bottom lip, suppressing the giggle you’ve been meaning to let out ever since you got the idea. sylus shoots you a boyish smile before flicking his fingers against your forehead which catches you off guard. “unprompted benevolence wasn't out of the kindness of your heart,”

before you’re able to process what’s happening, sylus pulls you into a tight embrace, strong arms snaking around your waist and holding you closely to his chest. "sylus let me go, i can't see the fireworks" you muffle into his jacket. "mhm, but weren't you the one who was complaining about the cold just now?” he says absentmindedly and you gaze up at him as he turns his head to the fireworks. 

his eyes find yours again, ruby eyes locking with yours as he gives you a mirthful smile. i'd rather not let you be exposed to the cold again" you glare at him which seems to amuse him even more because his next move is to pull you closer than before. (which you didn’t even know was possible from how close the two of you were already.)

luckily he lets you go soon after and you breathe in relief and observe him curiously as he pulls something out of the pocket of his jacket — a scarf. you gasp in surprise. “you had a scarf with you all along?” you ask him dumbfoundedly, not sure whether to be grateful for having something to warm your neck which isn’t sylus’ biceps, or if you should feel betrayed that he hid it from you.

“i’ve had a hunch that you’d forget yours in the rush, always so forgetful.” he smiles softly before wrapping the scarf around your neck, twice around your neck, and once around your.. eyes? “sylus, i swear to god.” even with your eyes covered beneath the wool scarf you can practically see sylus smirking to himself. “fine, fine,” he mutters, smiling before removing the scarf from your eyes.

the scarf sits nicely around your neck and not to mention it’s very comfortable and keeps you warm. you exchange glances with sylus before turning your attention to the fireworks again. 

from beneath you, on the riverbank, a bunch of people are lighting up their fireworks before watching after them as they fly into the distance. your eyes follow the fireworks as they light up the night sky and their reflections shimmer on the surface of the river. “the fireworks are so pretty, aren’t they?” you turn to sylus, expecting him to watch the fireworks too, instead you find his ruby eyes fixated on yours. 

“yeah, they really are.”

TAGS: @azullumi we're just gonna ignore the fact that this is dedicated to you and your birthday you oldie gramps of a geezer which was one week ago.....but anyway although i don't want to repeat what i said in my birthday letter (which you haven't read yet LOL) i want to tell you that in such a short period of time you've grown to a person I've learned to love so easily as if it were naturally - which it is. you're so loveable that it makes me wonder how anyone could ever hold a grudge towards you? you're the sweetest soul on earth and i wish i would've been there for your birthday to congratulate you in person but well beggars can't be choosers. azul, you're my soulmate and i appreciate everything about you and everything that you've done for me. i love how clear and easy our communication is, i love our little playful banters that other people find questionable and i love that people associate the two of us together, even when it means mistaking us for one another, which just proves how close we even appear to other people. you're the embodiment of lovely and loveable to me. i love you to death azul and once again happy birthday! <3

© FELIBRARY 2024. stealing, copying, translating, reposting my works on other platforms or feeding them to ai is not permitted.

[tpwk-formula1]

Hi, could I get a gluten free crust with red sauce. For toppings I’d like tomatoes, basil, broccoli, pineapple and mozzarella. For drinks I’d like some lemonade (reader receiving), sun tea and coke. And a dessert please. With Lando

Lee-Lee's Pizzeria Menu

gluten-free enemies to lovers red sauce rough sex tomatoes "Do you enjoy pissing me off?" basil "I love to watch my cum leak from your pretty pussy" broccoli "Made just for me huh?" pineapple "Look so pretty wrapped around my cock" mozzarella "All you ever do is bitch and complain, just fucking take it” lemonade body worship sun tea sir kink coke spanking served by Lando Norris

Lando x rival reader

TW rough sex, dirty talk, creampie, multiple orgasms, spanking

WC 1400+

Y/N POV

"Lando, go back to the McLaren garage," I tell him softly while walking through the Ferrari garage trying to get to my driver's room but quickly being stopped due to the boy in papaya currently hot on my heels.

"Just let me explain myself," Lando basically shouts while still following me by the time I reach the door.

I just grab his arm and drag him into my room quickly not wanting anyone's eyes to be on us.

"Lando there's nothing to explain! We aren't together I do not give a fuck if you're seeing another girl. I just would have liked to know before getting a message to leave you alone," I tell him softly while starting to pack up my room getting ready to go back to my hotel after a long qualifying day.

"But I'm not with her! I spent one night during summer break with her," Lando defends making me shrug my shoulders and finish packing up.

"It's not my business what you do Lando. I truly don't give a fuck," I tell him softly before heading to the door and exiting my driver's room knowing Lando would follow and truthfully would probably just come back with me from the paddock and stay in my hotel.

"Are you coming or not?" I ask when I stand at the door waiting for Lando to exit. He just shrugged his should and followed me out and into the parking lot where I quickly found the Range Rover I had rented for the weekend not really caring to have some crazy sports car.

Lando quickly climbed into the drivers seat making me roll my eyes before getting into the passengers seat and allowing for Lando to drive us to the hotel.

"Do you enjoy pissing me off?" Lando questions into the silent car making me scoff at the attitude.

"I don't see how any of this is my fault, you're the one who started seeing another girl and deciced to not tell me until I'm getting bombarded by her and all her friends in my DMs," I reply back which had Lando gripping my thigh with his big hand harder.

"I told you, it was one fucking date. I didn't know I had to inform you of my every move. You're the one who has made it so clear that we are nothing more than some rivals on track who fuck in their off time," Lando says clearly getting more frustrated the more he talked. He lands a soft slap on my thigh making me whimper slightly.

When we finally got back to the hotel nothing had been resolved between us, leaving me to lead Lando into my hotel room in awkward silence before he pushed me onto the bed and climbed on top of me where he pins my arms above my head and starts kissing around my neck.

"Lando, if you're seeing someone you need to stop," I gasp when I feel his teeth sink into my sweet spot he knows I loved so much.

"I'm only seeing you and how you take my cock so well," Lando mumbles against my neck before slowly sliding my shirt up and off my body and throwing it somewhere in the room.

"Lando, is this even a good idea anymore?" I question when he starts trailing kissing down my neck making me whimper when he starts biting at the part of my tits that are spilling over my bra.

"I don't know why one date I go on is making you question if this is a good idea. It was one fucking date. I'm not gonna stop fucking this pussy until the day I die," Lando roughly tells me before he unclips my bra and tosses it across the room to join my shirt.

Once my bare tits are exposed to Lando he starts kissing at them while telling me how pretty they are.

"No tits are better than these ones," Lando mumbles making me whimper slightly.

"I love that by the time I'm down with these tits you'll be soaked and ready for me to fuck your pretty pussy," Lando groans while pulling my legging downs leaving me in the black thong I had thrown on after FP.

"Lando I need you," I whimper out, but quickly scream when Lando lands a rough slap on my thigh.

"Try again," Lando says roughly making me try to grind my hips up into him.

"Please," I whimper.

This just had Lando flipping me over and starting to hand harsh slaps on my ass making me whimper.

"Lando, too hard," I whine again only making Lando spank me harder still not getting what he wanted.

"All you ever do is bitch and complain, just fucking take it,” Lando says clearly getting frustrated.

"Sir, please fuck me," I finally submit when I can no longer take his brutal attack on my ass.

This had Lando ripping my thong from my body leaving it to be a sad string of fabric before he roughly shoved them into my mouth and quickly takes off his clothes before he shoved his cock deep into my pussy making me whimper.

Lando gives me no time to adjust to his cock, but it didn't matter cause all I could feel was the overwhelming pleasure coursing through my body.

"Made just for me huh?" Lando questions when he realizes how well I was taking him now. When we had first started sleeping together he had to go slow because I could barely fit in and now I could take him with ease, even if I still could feel the stretch.

"More, sir" I gasp begging for more. Lando starts thrusting harder making me moan loudly not caring if anyone else in the hotel could hear us. Lando fucks me a few more seconds in doggy before repositions us so I could ride his cock a bit.

"Fuck," I whimper when I feel his cock pressing against my cervix before I start bouncing roughly on his cock making his cock continuously hit my cervix in quick succession.

"Look so pretty wrapped around my cock," Lando whimpers when he feels me speeding up my actions. While Lando had always been the dominant one but I have always loved it when I had him whimpering for me.

"You sound so pretty when you whimper for me," I say with a smirk across my face making Lando's eyes snap open at the praise and darken with lust before he flips us over and starts flowing into my pussy in missionary.

"Don't get fucking smart with me," Lando says while slapping down right on my clit making me whimper.

"Can I cum please," I gasp when Lando starts teasing my clit with his fingers?

"Go on, make yourself useful and cum for me," Lando groans making the band in my tummy finally snap making them start shaking all over Lando's cock while cumming harder than normal.

"Sir! Fuck!" I scream when he keeps fucking into me prolonging my orgasm when I feel him start painting my walls with his hit cum making me whimper when I can feel the tip of his cock nudging against my G-spot sending me into another smaller orgasm.

Lando helps ride my mini orgasm out before slowly slipping out watching some of his cum spills from my convulsing pussy.

"I love to watch my cum leak from your pretty pussy," Lando groans when he sees some of his cum starting to pool on the bedspread.

"Fuck," I gasp still trying to catch my breath when Lando lays next to me and pulls me into his chest where he starts rubbing my back softly.

"Will you please go on a date with me?" Lando asks making me laugh .ightly.

"If you win from pole position and lead after lap 1 I will go on a date with you," I reply softly making Lando groan.

"All the motivation I need," Lando replies back making me laugh softly before both of us fall asleep in each other's arms.

In the morning we showered together before heading to the paddock where Lando proceeded to get pole position and later Sunday he went on to lead the entire race and even beat Max by over 20 seconds. When we were standing on the podium together Lando whispered in my ear that we had a dinner planned for midnight.

I just laugh and shake my head before drowning the man in champagne. I guess he just needed a bit of motivation to finally break the curse.

[spencerrreiddd]

Three, Two, One. - Chapter 2

Summary: After telling Spencer that you’re pregnant with his baby- how is he going to react? what’s going to happen now?

Pairing: UnitChief!Spencer Reid x Fem!BAU!Reader

Warnings: Pregnancy, Mention of abortion, Angst, Fluff?

WC: 3.0k

A/N: - chapter 2 has finally made its ARRIVAL! enjoy ! 🔪🤍

UPDATE: chapter 2 is under an editing process !

Three, Two, One. - Chapter 1.

"Spencer, I'm pregnant - You are the last person I slept with. I am pregnant with your baby" You said it before you even had time to think about what you had said, it wasn't lies but telling him now?

You could visibly see all of the color leave Spencer's face, you wondered what was going through his big genius brain, if anything at all.

"W-what? We were careful, we were very careful." -

Before you could even produce words, you were cut off again by Spencer and the panic coursing through his entire being.

"How could this of even happened, Y/N?" He asked quickly, making his panic more and more obvious by the second.

"Spencer, you are fully aware of how this happens and careful isn't always guaranteed to be 100% effective" After the words came out of your mouth, you realized it was a bit snippy but- c’mon, Spencer is a genius. He of all people should know that being careful and using protection is always 100%.

All he could do was stare, like he wanted to say something but had no idea how to start moving his lips to speak the words. He was frozen in place.

"I- I know we are not in a relationship, Penelope told me that you were talking to someone and that's fine- if you don't want any part in this, I will keep my lips sealed" You continued, it broke more of your heart saying that.

You knew Spencer, you know Spencer and you know that he isn't the type of person to abandon someone with his child- You would be 100% fine being a single parent and healthily co-parenting with him, if that is what it came down to but you would be lying to yourself, if you said you didn’t want a relationship with him. You’ve wanted a relationship with him for years, you just never spoke on your feelings so a beautiful friendship wasn’t ruined because of it.

"Y/N, I'm just in shock, I mean, I wasn't expecting this- I was expecting something after the conversation I walked up on with Alvez and Garcia but not this" You honestly could understand what he was saying but did it hurt? Of course, it did but you are also taking his feelings into consideration.

And what conversation did he walk in on with Alvez and Garcia anyways?

Spencer could barely look you in the eye, he was starting to pace around like a dog that needed to go out for the potty.

"If you need time to let this all sink in, that's okay with me and I understand, honestly. This is a lot to take in, in a short amount of time" You could sympathize with him, for godsakes it's still hard for you to accept whats happening but you know you have to accept it.

"I just need some time to- to bring this all in, It's just a lot" He says, finally looking you in the eyes.

"I will contact you, Y/N. I won't leave you in the dark, please trust my word on that" His eyes pleading with you to trust him, to trust what he is saying to you.

And to be entirely honest, you do trust him. You trust him with your entire life but it doesn't stop the pain that you feel in your chest and how suffocating the pain is.

"Take your time, please. I understand that it's a lot, Spence- just don’t leave me in the dark” You surprisingly manage to choke out with the hot tears pricking your eyes.

Watching him walk out of your apartment tore you apart, you wanted to chase after him, beg him to come back, wrap his arms around you and tell you that it's all going to be okay but it was all wishful dreaming.

Right now, all you wanted to do was curl up in a ball and cry and maybe stuff your face with sweet treats, sweet treats that you didn't even have but you knew who would have them.

to: ‘Penelope Garcia 🖥️💖🍩’

'are you busy? - I need someone and I need sweet treats, please come through for me, my sweet crazy lady'

You could at least giggle at yourself with the little random nickname you through in there at the end of your text message. Ever since you joined the BAU and met Pen, y’all were best friends, she was there for the worst times of your live and for the best times of it.

You always thought, if she can produce weird and funny nicknames for people then you can to- outside of Spencer, she was the one you grew very close to.

You were close with everyone and you loved them dearly- Rossi, Tara, JJ, all of them but it just seemed so much easier with Penelope.

from: ‘Penelope Garcia 🖥️💖🍩’

'I am on my speedy way, my sweet sugar plum'

All you could manage to do after reading her text was zone out and stare at a random wall in your apartment, other than feeling like your heart was absolutely shattered, you wren't sure if you were even happy about all of this- maybe, just maybe if the situation would've been different, you could probably be happier.

Have you always wanted children? Of course! but before getting pregnant did you at least want to be in a stable relationship or marriage? Also, yes.

Before you even realized how much time had passed, Penelope was running through your front door and holding all of your favorite sweet treats- Honey Buns, Oatmeal Cream Pies and your ultimate favorite, Fudge Rounds.

As soon as she was fully in the door and sat everything down, you collapsed in her arms crying your heart out. Everything, the tears and the sobs had been waiting to spill out until this moment.

"Okay, okay, what's going on" Worry coating her voice - "Nobody could reach you after you ran out of work, even Spencer was worried about you!- Did you get any of my texts or voicemails"

"I told him- I told him about the baby. It all came out before I could even process my thoughts" You had a small amount of hope in your soul that she would be able to understand that through your sobs.

Looking at Pen after you said that, you could see the wheels turning in her head. Realization setting in.

"Reid came by here? By your apartment?" She questioned.

"Yeah, I was just relaxing and came out to the kitchen and I nearly ran right smack into him. He nearly gave me a heart attack in my own house" You were still unappreciative of that scare to say the least.

"Ho-how did he take the news"

"Not horrible but not how a woman would hope her-"

"Person would react" Penelope cuts you off seeing as you couldn't even figure out you own words.

"Exactly but as hard as it is, he isn't even my person. He's my boss, Pen. My boss. Our boss got me pregnant because we stupidly decided to have sex a few times to release the stress of work and life because evidently, we couldn't just sit down over coffee and vent to each other" You don't feel shame admitting that, should you? Maybe but you and Spencer are both adults.

Now that you're thinking about it, he never did confirm or deny, if he was talking to someone or not- It probably wasn't your business but at the same time, you felt like it was. I mean, you are carrying his child and you don't want to be responsible for tearing apart a relationship or a relationship that is forming.

Spencer has been through enough hurt with JJ and with Maeve. You couldn't bear the hurt and the guilt of causing him more pain like that or even similar to it.

Remembering and witnessing his pain first hand after Maeve was gut-wrenching, it made you want to lay and sob right there with him.

from: Spencer 'The Genius' Reid

'I'm sorry for how I left, how I was unable to sit down and talk with you. Can we meet tomorrow?

'It would be good to sit and talk about all of this and there are things that I need to tell you, still.'

You couldn't even look at the message, so you had Penelope read it and just simply asked her to tell you if it was good or if it was bad.

"He wants to sit and talk to you, says he is sorry for how he left- I would say that's a good message" Handing you your phone back, so you could message him back. If you could even bring yourself to do that. In reality, you knew that it was the right thing to do.

to: Spencer 'The Genius' Reid

'Sure, I would feel comfortable speaking here, at my apartment. Is that okay with you? You can come over at any time tomorrow- If not, let me know and we can figure out another place to meet'

"I asked him if we could just meet and talk here. Do you think that's okay to even ask? Asking him to come here? I should've asked where he felt comfortable meeting" You are beginning to overthink everything and rambling on- you care about Reid's feelings but right now, you're caring for yourself more as selfish as that sounds.

"Y/N, that's a perfectly fine thing to ask- what's gonna happen? He's going to knock you up.. again? Y'all are talking, not getting under the sheets" How she said it made you laugh a bit considering the situation.

from: Spencer 'The Genius' Reid

'That's fine with me, Y/N- I will be there at 10:30.'

You surprisingly feel relief washing over you reading his message-

'Let's just hope tomorrow goes better' You think to yourself.

“Oh. Pen. What conversation did Spencer walk in on you and Alvez having, anyways?”

“I saw you run out of work and I knew at that point, Alvez opened his mouth about something I shouldn’t have even spoken to him about and I’m sorry, for telling him- we didn’t tell Reid anything, though” She admits, you weren’t mad at her- you just had confusion after hearing Spencer say he overheard their conversation.

After a few hours of eating sweets and watching Modern Family with Penny, you started getting tired -

"I'm getting tired, Pen- I'm gonna go to bed, you're welcome to crash on the couch, if you're too tired to drive" Partially hinting at her that you wanted to be alone but you still didn't want her falling asleep behind the wheel and hurting herself or someone else.

"Don't be silly, I'm never too tired and plus, I enjoy sleeping on my own couch, if i'm sleeping on any couch, ma'am" She deadpans as she stands to leave.

Hugging her good-bye and giving her the biggest thank you for coming over to calm you and well, the sweets too.

"I love you, Penny- I'm also keeping these sweets. I know my pregnancy cravings will appreciate them soon and you for bringing them"

"You better be happy that I love and adore you, I wanted to take the Honey Buns with me- oh, and yes, I love my next god-child too" She says in a jokingly way while walking out the door.

After Penelope left, you decided that you did need sleep even though you would probably be struggling to even close your eyes because of your wonderful habit to and overthink every tiny thing about anything and everything in you life- all of this going on with Spencer is just fueling your ability to overthink. Lovely.

'What if he asks me to get rid of it' 'What if he ends up being a deadbeat and i'm stuck raising this baby alone' 'What if we can't co-parent in a healthy way and it causes the child trauma' - Any and every 'what if' flew through your mind. It felt like hours before your eyes finally closed and you were able to get sleep.

After waking up to the sun shining directly into your eyes, you roll over just to see 10:27 A.M on your alarm clock. - You don't remember ever having to fly out of bed that quickly, except maybe when you were in school and running late or even yesterday with work.

Walking out of your room and into the living room to sit in peace for about a minute or two before Spencer shows up. The nausea you began to feel was becoming over powering. Was it from pregnancy? Was it from the nerves? You didn't know but you were accepting your fate that you may or may not upchuck everywhere.

10:30 A.M - KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK

"Right on time" You mumble to yourself, you weren't expecting him to be a minute early or late.

"Come in" You yell, not having any energy to stand up and not wanting to move because it was making your nausea 10x worse.

"Hey" He greets coming through your door, he doesn't appear to have gotten any sleep- his hair messy, he has dark bags under his eyes.

"Hey, glad to see you showed- I'm sorry, I didn't mean that in a horrible way, I know what you said yesterd- I'm rambling. I'm glad you're here, Spencer" Another bad habit of yours, rambling on and on when you were nervous.

"Me too. Where do you want to start- I mean, I've never had to have this conversation with anyone else before" You could clearly hear the nerves in his voice.

You know you want to keep the baby. Regardless of what happens between you and Spencer. Tell him that.

"I'm keeping the baby, Spencer. That's my plan. I know we aren't in a relationship and we don't have to be to healthily co-parent and if you don't want to be involved, I understand because you're working on building a relationship with someone else but-" Spencer cuts you off before you can continue on with your rambling.

"Okay, pause for just a minute. I'm not in a relationship, I'm not working towards a relationship with anyone else. Where are you getting that information?" He asks with slight irritation in his voice.

"Penelope did, I went into work yesterday and I told her about me being pregnant, blah blah blah- she told me that you had a girlfriend, as far as she knew at least because the contact name for her 'wasn't a name you gave a friend"

"Y/N, getting back to the point then I will come back and touch on that- I wanted you to keep this baby, I want you to keep our baby. I've always wanted to be a dad, you know that about me. I want to be here every step of the way with you, with our child" Spencer is looking into your eyes with every word coming from his lips.

"And to touch on this topic because the names in my contacts are evidently Penelope's business, the name she is referring to is 'Pretty Girl', which is you, Y/N- Since we're on the honesty road, Y/N, I love you and I mean that, I've loved you for years, this isn't coming out of nowhere for me and it's not because of our current situation, either" You're blown away by everything Spencer has just said to you to say the absolute least.

Honestly, now that your mind isn't running a marathon, you could pinpoint certain changing things between you and Spencer- the longing looks between one another, bringing each other breakfast and coffee in the mornings, which never happened beforehand, the private meetings after work to just talk, nothing sexual ever involved but last but not least, the sex between the two of you.

'He loves me, he loves our child, he's been in love with me for years- I am the weird? contact name in his phone that Pen had spotted.' You think to yourself, seemingly not able to produce words after Spencer's confessions.

"Spence, I don't even know what to say or how to begin saying it. - I love you, I loved you since the first time I saw you walk into the bullpen and Gideon introduced his newest prodigy to all of us. - I'm happy, so happy that you want to be apart of our babies life and be here for us."

Neither of you have words after you both say your peace, you've both just poured your hearts out but your eyes are still saying so many things to each other.

"Y/N, I love you and I want a future with you. I want to have a family with you, if you'll allow it" Spencer confesses further moving closer to you.

"I would love that, Spencer" It came out as a whisper but with how close he was to you, to your face- you know that he heard you.

Moving even closer, Spencer takes your face in his hands and kisses you gently- It's a kiss that you can tell is filled with love, comfort and pure gentleness. Nothing like the kisses y'all shared in bed when y'all were just trying to reach an orgasm after a rough case.

Finally, you both break apart, breathing heavily, foreheads resting against each others.

"Not to ruin such a beautiful moment that I have been waiting years for, what's going on with all the 'Little Debbie' boxes" Spencer jokingly asks you, finally realizing the boxes you forgot to put away last night.

"Penelope was here last night, I asked her to come over with sweets after you had left- I needed honey buns to cope" Shrugging your shoulders saying it, you had no shame in your sweet tooth game and you certainly wouldn't when your pregnancy cravings really started attacking you.

"So, another quick thing- of all people, why would you tell Alvez and Garcia this news?" Spencer looking at you, confused as ever as to why you would tell two of the biggest blabbers.

"I didn't tell Alvez, I told Garcia and she "let it slip" to Alvez- Alvez is why I left the other day. He came up to me talking about it loud enough for anyone else to hear him, if they were paying any attention at all- It got to me, frustrated me. I should've communicated better but, I wasn't exactly coping well yesterday" There was nothing to hold back now and frankly, at this point, you had zero shame about any of that and any of what was currently happening.

"I'm not upset- I was worried, I should've came myself after I heard that you left, I should've at the very least sent someone to come and check on -"

"Spencer, it's okay. I would've probably ignored the knocking of anyone and my phone was on do not disturb anyways, I wanted to be alone. Don't beat yourself up about this. We're okay. I love you." You couldn't stop yourself from cutting him off, you couldn't stand to watch him beat himself up, you couldn't stand watching anyone beat themselves up.

"Y/N, I love you and I want you to be mine, I want this family."

"And I love you, Spencer and I want to be yours and I want you to be apart of this family. I loved you then and I love you now."

not going to lie, i thought this was going to be a 3 part story- not including the epilogue that i do plan to make for this mini-series.

i, personally am happy with how this turned out with this being my first writing in so long and being rusty to say the least.

i hope you, my dearies, enjoyed reading it and i hope you look forward to more stories coming your way.

PLEASE MAKE SURE TO LEAVE FEEDBACK

TAGLIST: @donttrustlove @sebastiansstanswhore @eddiesdrummergf @hayleythecannibal @fanfic-viewer @kyrathekiller @xx-spooky-little-vampire-xx @diffidentphantom @ivet4

IF YOU WOULD LIKE TO BE TAGGED IN FUTURE STORIES or FOR THE EPILOGUE- slide into my inbox and let me know so that i can get you on my list !

[piratecaptainscaptainpirates]

I do think that the fact that there's still a degree of "controversy" around the circumstances with which Ed and Stede had sex is quite telling of our (general, societal our) expectation that sex be made into something that is, fundamentally, uncomplicated.

In general, there tends to be an expectation that sex can be either sorted into two categories: Good and Bad. If a specific occasion where two people have sex can't be cleanly sorted into Good, then it's lumped right into everything else with Bad - this is how we still get takes that there was any sort of dub-con element to Ed and Stede's sex scene in s2e6 when that's just not the case at all.

Like any part of human connection and communication, sex can be, and often is, messy. Here are the facts about the circumstances under which Ed and Stede have sex for the first time:

They have just had an extremely traumatic day, during which they had to see each other being tortured, and Stede just did something that upset him deeply. Ed wants to comfort and support Stede right now.

Ed has previously expressed a need to "take it slow."

What Stede needs, in the moment, is physical comfort, closeness, and intimacy with his boyfriend.

When Stede pulls Ed into the cabin, it's intense and passionate, but Ed is not uncomfortable or upset in the slightest.

Stede waits for Ed's nod of consent before kissing him, and the two fall into each other at the same time. They are both eager to hold onto each other.

The morning after, Ed is in a GREAT mood. He continues to be in an excellent mood throughout their date, and is even the one who suggests they go enjoy Stede's fame at Spanish Jackie'z. Ed initially enjoys not being in the spotlight and giving Stede advice about handling fame.

Ed does not become uncomfortable or get in his head until he's talking with Jackie, they watch Stede living it up, Ed admits that he just wants to be a regular dude now, and Jackie asks him if Stede knows that. The trigger for Ed's fear isn't anything Stede has done necessarily, it's about him worrying that Stede, who is just enjoying fame for the first time, will choose piracy over Ed.

This situation, as with many realistic human relationships, is messy. Should Ed and Stede probably have waited to have sex? Maybe. He certainly would've stopped if Ed had asked, and Ed could've found other ways to comfort him and be with him. You could argue that Stede is choosing physical intimacy to make him feel better instead of talking about his feelings. They've just had a very shitty day, and Ed's going through a bit of a personal crisis right now, and it's very possible that anything they do will get wrapped up in those big emotions. But it's also undeniable that they both had a great night and very much enjoyed it in the moment.

And that's just...realistic. It's just how any aspect of human relationships can work. People are messy and complicated. And, importantly, even if Ed does regret rushing into having sex that night (which I don't honestly think he does, I think he was having a hard time saying "things are moving very fast and I'm terrified" and that was just an easy thing to latch onto), that doesn't negate the consent he gave in the moment or retroactively make the sex non-consensual.

[punpunsonny]

WARM

Tw: icky behavior(pushy yandere), yandere stuff

Empty.

Empty is all he could describe of what he felt, sans of everything, sans of feeling, of emotions, why did he feel this way?

Born in a loving family, gifted with the face of an angel, his life was always easy, always carefree, nothing to worry about, everyone singing and chirping praises to him, worshiping him.

He has gotten used to this easy lifestyle, to the point he felt numb to everything, shouldn't something when his mother hugs him? Shouldn't feel something when his father expresses his pride for him?

Should he not feel anything when a girl cries her heart out to him, leaving him a hand written note. Shouldn't he feel something? Anything?

He hated himself, he couldn't bring himself to just.. feel something, anything: hatred, anger, disgust it all felt like a dream, a goal to reach the moon, something so easy to think about but hard to do.

He constantly laid awake at night, how would it feel to feel something right now? To experience happiness, to experience sadness. To cry your eyes out after a break up.

He had tried everything, getting in and out of relationships, people leaving one by one. Why were they crying when he wasn't? He itched to feel something, to fill the gaping hole in chest…

So, he took a job for modeling, maybe the constant praise of how good he did, how good he looked would invoke a feeling, anything. Anything he'd take, just to feel something.

It took a few months for his career to take off, after that he was widely sought out for, he had blown up due to his face, how he carried himself, how he walked down the runway, how he talked. He was beloved, loved in places he never even imagined going. Yet, that darkness looms still in his chest.

And there you came, like a answer to his cries, a solution to his woes, solving his empty life, filling the endless void with your presence, if he was to describe how he felt seeing you frantically run around, being the assistant of the photographer who booked him, scoring a spot to his hectic schedule. He felt like the sun itself crashed down on earth, forming you.

A little sunshine in his dark life, he felt something, his heart beated, fast. He was confused, why did he feel this way? Why was his face warming up? It was cold, too cold in the studio you two reside in to feel warm, to feel awkward posing there as you watched him, a smile on your face.

He gulped, as he watched you. By God's he felt like he saw an angel, he was always told he had a face of one, now he thinks they were lying, because now. He saw what an angelic face looked like.

It was you, you who made this stone of a man feel something. He desperately tried to become friends with you, calling the photographer who was your employer for more shoots who the man happily accepted even if the pay wasn't that good compared to the brands who blew up his phone for a photoshoot.

Soon, due to his persistent behavior, you two became friends, it was awkward going on cafe hangouts with a celebrity of a man, he would just smile, and tell you “it's fine.. my treat.” He always says,

He would only stare at you during these times, he would always say he wasn't hungry when you helped yourself to his food he pushed your way, he enjoyed that smile on your face. He liked feeling this way, liked the swelling warm feeling engulfing him whenever he saw you. He liked this.

“I love you, y/n.” He whispered through the phone in a random midnight, by this point it has been a year of you two being friends, he constantly texted you, asking for your advice of what he should wear, he could ask his professional stylist but no, he always texts you of his outfit. He liked seeing what you preferred, that way he's learning more about you.

“I really love you.” You could hear him shuffle around, soft rustling from his clothes.

“Derin- I.. I don't know.” You said, hesitantly. How did this man like you? You weren't anything special in your eyes..

“Please.. please, y/n, I don't think-” he sighed “I don't think I can handle this..” he said.

“I love you, please.” He said, he wants you. He wants to feel warm, to feel something. He loved you, he really does..

“Derin- let's.. talk about this tomorrow.” You said.

“No, let's talk about this now. Y/n you made me feel things I didn't know I could feel. Please?” He said he really was pushy. Being used to getting what he wanted.

“Agh..” you sighed, was this worth it?

“Okay.” You said, you know you'd come to regret this, but, don't celebrities get bored in their relationships a week in? You trusted that Derin would get bored and possibly cheat on you or dump you. You'd let him have his fun for now to get out of this situation you no longer want to be in, shaking the thought of you being too easy to get away.

“Thank you- I love you.. so much.” you could hear him smile through the phone.

“Mhm..” you said.

“Night night, sunshine.” He said, his soft voice coming out of the speaker of your phone.

“Night.” You said, groaning as you ended the call. What the hell just happened?

He smiled to himself, kicking his legs around as he raced to his Instagram, putting “taken :33 by @your_name” he giggled, he always wanted to do this ever since.. he knew his manager would be calling him by the morning, yelling for him to take it down, he never will.

Oh, the grave mistake you made. If you knew now how he truly was, you would had never said anything and had blocked him right there and there.

[inchidentally]

Inch what is your opinion on this clip? https://www.tumblr.com/eightyonefour/762429464940527616/what-kind-of-guyteammate-is-oscar

It makes me sad that Lando isn’t able to find a lot of words to describe Osco ;-;

ohhh anon I know for most ppl this is all so boring and not interesting but the way excitable!nervous!shy!butextroverted!fidgety!sassy!emotional!squirmy!insecuresometimes!pleaseloveme!whydoyouhateme?!seeIknewyou'dloveme!creative!sexualconfidence!HORNY!travelstheworldintechnicolor!babyfever!workaholic!Lando exists against calm, placid, self-assured, does his job well,what's the point in doing less than his best, work life balance, lowkey, rational, good with kids but talks to them like adults Oscar makes me so emotional for god knows what reason ??? ;_;

but to Get Into It, I know this is the choppiest messiest compilation I've ever done but hopefully it'll be both self-explanatory and also go along well w my usual dissertation on something that has no real life importance for me but that makes me Feel Things

x x x

so the main thing with how Lando's stops for long periods to think and mull it over is for two reasons: one is that he hasn't done the usual PR aspect of his rs with Oscar the way he has with other drivers/teammates - and the other is that if he found Oscar dull or uninteresting then he wouldn't have had to sit and think aslfgsaljfgsajl. Lando's rly good with the media and honestly this answer would've been rly easy and quick if he could just say "yeah he's very fast and a good guy! hard worker and solid teammate!" bc it's not like anyone is expecting any more about a guy like Oscar anyway!

and with everyone else, Lando's got lots of anecdotes and jokes and shared activities as well as lots of experience interacting on camera in ways that give fans something to enjoy. it's not being disingenuous, it's just that they can easily tailor the friendship to be useful for publicity.

but !!! it's also the case of all of Lando's friends on the grid being extroverts as well as being great on camera. and Lando maybe could be seen as an extrovert but he's also naturally (self-confessed as well as confirmed by those closest to him) painfully shy and he relies on extroverts around him to help him out a lot. I got this ask that we don't even need proof of bc it's exactly how Lando is when he's alone among strangers or around huge crowds. same with when he has to do publicity stuff all alone the thinking silences stretch and he gets that upward inflection where he's trying very hard to see if the other person knows what he means??

and Osc is very much not an extrovert and while he likes the odd shared activity, he has said he prefers quiet conversation in small groups away from public places. so literally ! the ways he and Lando are compatible are simply in enjoying spending time together and being extremely low pressure friends who don't like the publicity aspect encroaching on that.

so how do you describe someone to a stranger if they're just quietly a good, reliable person who you like and work well with ?? Oscar himself needs a fair amount of prodding and encouragement to describe himself, let alone Lando being asked to do it !!

which I think is why landoscar has actually had this strong resonance for a lot of us who have those kinds of friendships or love those kinds of people - you can only see it and get to know it by observing it and knowing it in a way yourself. the way Oscar stares at Lando and does his little self-assigned duties to Lando and the way Lando watches Oscar in that wide-eyed trusting way and lets his brattiness out bc Oscar will always find it endearing. none of that makes for snappy PR content but if you get the vibes then it's so so sooooooo sweet ;__;

it's also why their dynamic lends itself so much to fic authors bc you've got a strong foundation of their authentic dynamic since they can't/don't fake it or play it up, from which you can put them in any scenario or any roles and they just… write themselves! not in a sense that the author isn't putting the work in as a writer skfgalsfg but the strongest thread among landoscar fic is that dynamic always coming through so consistently (even in the more challenging dark fic or out there AUs) the classics I can think of first off are playdate by debrief, that one from work can come over on monday night by higgsbosonblues and q&a by corsi

the common development of how Oscar is so blatantly changed by Lando in ways that seem either superficial or purely practical so that Lando ends up initially missing out on the depth of what that means - and misinterpreting Oscar not changing emotionally for him as disinterest. only to find that when someone who is solid and reliable and knows who they are decides they love you, they show it by changing their life for you and not changing themselves for you.

and that irl considering that Oscar always says how important it is for his relationship with Lily that he spend time with her that isn't connected to his career/life's passion, it's clear that he considers that to be proof of how much he cares. so all of the little ways Oscar bends and adapts and fulfills Lando's practical needs are ways for him to say "I value you" "I make you a priority in my life" "I want to fit you into my life" "I am willing to give up something/change something for you"

like idk how much Lando realizes the significance of those things and that's how I interpret him spending a very long time mulling and thinking rather than just getting past the answer in a neat, succinct way. bc Max F is a very emotionally intelligent guy and very capable of expressing his feelings, all of the guys on the grid are varying levels of emotional awareness/intelligence but they all have the same regular expectation of using their words to express how they feel about friends, and ofc the people surrounding Lando for the past ten years are highly attenuated to his needs. Oscar stands out as this very very different person to what he's used to!

and lastly, there's the whole gentleness and communicating through their kitten smiles and their ways of getting lost on a random subject - they're just such a quiet, gentle introverted dynamic. there's this moment after Japan last year waiting for a train, as well as this moment from Vegas where the crowd is singing happy birthday to Lando that I think are like, poetic levels of how their shyness/introversion fully matches up. bc neither of them feels easy or comfortable actually interacting with the crowd, so they keep looking to each other and smiling for comfort and reassurance. if another driver from the grid were around they could probably rely on him to brazen out the situation, but these two kittens just find solidarity in each other to get through!

so a lot of what makes landoscar a flop for bromance-only ppl is what a lot of us love about it <3<3<3 like I love a good bromance and self-aware PR ships too but landoscar made me want to get an f1blr and write insane pointless dissertations about them so shrug emoji !!

[anniebeemine]

hi!!!!! I’ve loved all your Spencer Reid fics, I have been eating them up like a starved lion. That being said I have a request if that’s alright!!

Little self indulgent, but maybe Spencer with a reader who’s just been feeling like just so crazy like emotionally. Just having a lot of overthinking and having a lot of crying fits?? Hopefully that makes sense, but some nice comfort would be peak, thank you sm!!! 🩵🩵🩵

I'm so glad that you've been enjoying my work <3 I'd love to write a little something for you

The house was quiet, but inside your mind, everything felt overwhelming. You sat on the edge of the bed, your thoughts swirling in a chaotic mess, spiraling into one of those emotional storms that you just couldn’t seem to escape lately. Tears slipped down your cheeks, and as much as you tried to hold it together, the lump in your throat made breathing feel like a battle.

You didn’t hear Spencer come in, but suddenly there he was—standing in the doorway, his brows knitted together in concern as he watched you, clearly sensing something was wrong. His soft, familiar voice broke through your haze.

“Hey…” He crossed the room quietly, careful not to startle you. “What’s going on?”

You shook your head, struggling to form a coherent sentence. It felt impossible to explain why you felt like this—why everything was so heavy. "I don't know," you finally managed to whisper, your voice cracking. "I just feel...crazy. Everything feels too much. And I keep overthinking everything, and I can’t stop crying. It doesn’t even make sense."

Without another word, Spencer sat beside you, his hand resting gently on your back. He didn’t try to fix it. He didn’t tell you to stop crying or try to solve your problems. He just sat there, his presence grounding you, letting you know that you didn’t have to go through this alone.

After a few moments of quiet, he spoke, his voice steady and reassuring. “You’re not crazy. You’re going through a lot, and sometimes it’s hard to make sense of it all. But whatever you’re feeling, it’s okay. You don’t have to have all the answers, and you don’t have to go through this by yourself.”

His words were like a balm to the raw edges of your emotions. You leaned into him, resting your head on his shoulder as another wave of tears came, but this time they felt a little less overwhelming. Spencer wrapped his arms around you, holding you close as you let it out, his steady heartbeat calming the storm inside of you.

“You’re not alone,” he whispered, pressing a gentle kiss to the top of your head. “I’m right here.”

You stayed like that for what felt like forever, his arms a safe haven from the weight of your own mind. Slowly, the sobs quieted, replaced by the steady rhythm of your breathing syncing with his.

When you finally pulled back, Spencer cupped your face in his hands, wiping away the stray tears with his thumb. “You’re doing your best, and that’s enough. I’m proud of you for hanging on, even when it feels impossible.”

A soft smile tugged at your lips despite everything. “Thank you… for just being here.”

“Always,” he said, his voice filled with the kind of love and sincerity that made you feel a little bit lighter. “Whenever it feels like too much, remember you don’t have to carry it by yourself. I’m always here for you.”

And for the first time in a while, you believed him.

You leaned back into his embrace, burying your face in his shoulder as his arms wrapped around you again. The warmth of his body and the steady rise and fall of his breath were comforting, anchoring you in the moment. As you relaxed into him, the words you’d been holding inside tumbled out in a quiet, shaky mumble.

Spencer’s hand gently rubbed soothing circles on your back, his voice calm and reassuring in your ear. You nodded against him, his words sinking in as the tension in your body slowly eased. Speaking the thoughts that had been rattling around in your head out loud, even if they didn’t make perfect sense, helped loosen their grip on you. And Spencer, as always, listened without judgment, giving you the space to feel everything without pressure. His words felt like a lifeline, pulling you out of the swirling thoughts just enough for you to breathe a little easier. You stayed in his arms, the two of you wrapped in a quiet understanding, and for the first time in what felt like forever, the weight in your chest started to lift.

[lostalioth]

𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐝𝐢𝐞𝐝 𝐤𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐬

→ premise: there existed no such cricumstances in which dean doesnt want your lips against his. bloodied, bruised, even with broken bones, a kiss from his girl makes it all better.

→ pairing: dean winchester x fem!reader

→ warnings: tw: blood, fluff, but some sort of instense making out, established relationship, descriptions of blood and injuries, blood in mouth, nicknames [baby, sweetheart, my girl], reader is described a bit to have anxiety

→ a/n: as always i hope dean isn’t too out of character as i have never written for him! enjoy my loves :) and sorry its short.

A hunt had gone south they got the monster and it was done but Dean was injured, they were headed back to the bunker. That was all Sam spit out over the phone, normally you appreciated his ability to get straight to the point. Currently you were cursing it as he hung up shortly after cause he was the one driving back. You had a million and one questions running through your head and more than half of them weren’t good.

This was the part of the boys going off hunting and you staying back that you hated the most. When one of them got hurt or something went wrong and all you could do was sit there, a chill running down your spine as your blood boiled in your veins, anxiously pacing the living room, trying to not let yourself jump to the worst conclusions which you regularly failed to do.

You used to go on hunts with them and instead of you currently being the one riddle with anxiety, it was Dean. Once the two of you pulled your heads out of your asses (as Sam would say) and realized you’ve had feelings for each other for years, you got together. Being officially together seemed to make Dean's protective nature increase tenfold. He was even more terrified to lose you now than before. He began fussing over you whenever you'd get even the slightest scarpe or bump on a hunt. He would glue himself to your side the whole duration. Forcing you to normally stay back in the motel room when the hunt turned into a more dangerous situation than dean cared to put you in.

You loved Dean but it began to get a bit too tedious to deal with and even Sam made a comment on how overprotective he was being. In an attempt to make hunts go easier and ease your boyfriend's anxiety, once you all situated yourselfs in the bunker you suggested to him that you go out on hunts less, especially when they could now take Cas. Dean jumped at the suggestion but you couldn't blame him.

“I think that's a great idea baby” he said with a kiss to your forehead.

You still helped out, researching things when Sam needed the help, going through old books and files in the library, patching them up when they’d come back with cuts and bruises. You hadn't realized just how jittery you'd be however stuck in the bunker when he was out and especially when they went on far away hunts.

They'd go to the hospital when things were really bad, so you knew if the boys were on their way back then it couldn’t be too bad. The reminder did nothing to sooth your racing thoughts, your heart thumping so hard you could practically hear it pounding in your ears. You didn't know just how long you've been pacing back and forth, too afraid to look up at the clock and realize it's only been a few minutes since Sam called.

You don't hear the sound of baby pulling into the garage, your head is too clouded as you were damn near about to wear a grove down into the old floors. The sound of a door shutting loudly and two sets of heavy footsteps are heard down the hallway. Spinning so quickly on your feet you nearly lose your balance you turn to face the noise. Watching as the brothers emerge from the dark hall, Dean's arm rests on Sam's shoulder almost using him like a human crutch. You let out a small gasp making them stop and both of their eyes snap up to yours, whether you gasped in surprise at the state of your boyfriend or in relief you can’t tell.

“Hi sweetheart, We’re home” Dean tilts his head, his voice laced with his usual sarcasm and deep tone. He pushes off of Sam, clearly able to at least stand on his own, slowly making his way over to you a small limp in his step.

In the blink of an eye you’re rushing into his arms, your soft hands grabbing ahold of his beaten up face and crashing your lips against his. He grunts out a “fuck” in surprise or pain the word dying in his throat turning into a noise as his eyes fall shut and he grabs ahold of your hips. With a sharp tug he pulls your body as close as he can to his, his hands sliding up your sides. His bloodied lips against your plush ones, kissing you like a man starved, a kiss you’ve come accustomed to when he comes home from longer hunts. “Missed you” he hums in a hushed tone into the kiss for only you to hear, making your racing heart only speed up. His blood flows into your opened mouth as the kiss goes on, the metallic taste on your tongue foreign but you were far too relieved he was back in one piece to care about the blood coating your tongue.

Any pain Dean felt after the whole ordeal and from the bumpy ride back to the bunker seemed to fade from his body. He could care less about his brother's presence still in the room or the blood still dripping from his face and that covered his clothes or his split lip. It felt as if all the bruises that were forming on his body were already being kissed away as your soft lips slid against his. The taste of your mouth overcoming the taste of the blood in his, your scent calming his body, reminding him he's finally home again. Your body grounding him.

A rough deep cough stops the moment making the two of you reluctantly pull away, lips swollen and parted as you catch your breath.

“Before this gets any more R-rated maybe we should patch him up and you know clean him up” Sam suggested with a small light hearted chuckle as he walks off to the bathroom to get the first aid kit. You were grateful you remembered just yesterday that it had needed to be restocked. “Sorry Sammy” Dean calls after him, you turn your head away and follow up with a “Sorry not sorry” down the hall after him making a small smirk grow on your boyfriend's face.

Once he's out of eye sight, Dean grabs ahold of your face by lightly squeezing your cheeks and turns your head back to face him. Leaning down to begin softly kissing you again, groaning against your lips when the pain in his body begins to return.

“Who needs a first aid kit, all i need is my girl's kisses” He mumbled softly against your mouth, making you break out into a smile. A small tear slips down your cheek, your breath returning to your lungs and the chill in your spine fading as relief finally settled over your body knowing he's okay.

→ a/n: if you enjoyed please reblog or send me some dean requests id love to write more for him!

[syluslnd]

Sssooo... thinking of Stalker Sylus the first time he gets to catch MC masturbating...

Stalker sylus catching you masturbating

You had no idea you were being watched, none at all. The apartment was supposed to be your safe space, where no one could see you in your most vulnerable moments. But Sylus had been watching for weeks now, his eyes always on you, tracking every move you made, every sigh, every flutter of your lashes.

Sylus had always thought you were pure, an innocent creature who stirred something primal in him. He'd set up the cameras around your home, hidden in the shadows of your bookshelves, the corners of your ceiling. He was never far, always lurking, always observing.

Tonight, though, was different. You had no idea what you were doing to him. The way your hand slipped beneath the sheets, your breath catching in the quiet of your bedroom. Sylus leaned forward in his dark office, eyes glued to the monitor. He couldn't look away, couldn't believe what he was seeing. His innocent little kitten, no longer as innocent as he thought.

The way you whimpered softly, biting your lip, your cheeks flushed—he watched with a dark satisfaction growing inside him, feeling a surge of possessiveness like never before.

His fingers hovered over his phone, a wicked grin spreading across his face.

“Sweetie” he typed, the word dripping with that familiar teasing energy. “You know l've been watching, right?”

Your phone buzzed on the nightstand, startling you. You grabbed it, heart pounding as you read the message. A cold shiver ran down your spine. He knows?

Before you could even react, another message came through. “I'm on my way to you. Don't move.”

Your heart raced as you stared at the screen, a mixture of fear and excitement building inside you. You looked around your empty room, the dim lighting suddenly feeling oppressive, like the walls were closing in on you. You knew he had his darker side-Sylus was dangerous, a man not to be crossed.

But he also had a soft spot for you. His obsession with you had always been more protective than harmful.

What had you gotten yourself into?

A knock sounded at your door mere minutes later, though you hadn't heard any footsteps.

Sylus was always swift, always silent. You hesitated, but the door creaked open before you could even reach it.

And there he was, leaning casually in the doorway, his dark suit clinging to every muscle, his eyes gleaming with amusement.

He closed the door behind him with a soft click, locking it, his lips curling into that maddening smirk.

"Well, well” he drawled, his voice low and dripping with amusement "I didn't know my little kitten had such a dirty side. How long have you been hiding that from me, sweetie?"

Your breath hitched as Sylus stalked toward you, his eyes never leaving yours. You felt your pulse quicken, the heat rising in your cheeks as he got closer, the intensity in his gaze sending a thrill through you. He stopped just inches away, his presence overwhelming, the air around him electric.

"You weren't supposed to see that" you managed to whisper, your voice barely audible.

He chuckled softly, tilting your chin up with one finger so that you were forced to meet his gaze. "Oh, but I did. And I have to say, kitten, I'm not disappointed." His voice was a low purr, dripping with that familiar, teasing tone. "I always thought you were innocent, but it seems l've been missing out."

His eyes darkened as he leaned in closer, his lips brushing against your ear. "Tell me, sweetie" he whispered, his breath warm against your skin "were you thinking about me?"

The question sent a jolt of panic through you but there was no denying the effect his voice had on you. Sylus knew exactly how to get under your skin, how to toy with your emotions and now that he knew your secret, he was going to enjoy every second of it.

"I-" You tried to form a coherent response but his hand had already found its way to your waist, pulling you closer to him.

"Don't be shy, kitten” he murmured, his lips grazing your neck. "You don't need to hide from me anymore. I've seen everything." His words were dark, yet there was something comforting about the way he held you, like even in this twisted obsession, you were safe in his arms.

The game had changed and you knew Sylus wouldn't let you forget it

You stood frozen in his arms, your mind spinning from his words, from his touch.

Sylus held you against him like you were his most prized possession-his obsession fully realized. The teasing look in his eyes deepened, flickering between dark amusement and something more primal.

His thumb traced slow circles against your hip, a touch that sent shivers up your spine.

"You know, sweetie" he continued in that low, velvety voice "I've been patient with you. Watching from afar...protecting you." His lips hovered just above yours, and you could feel his breath, warm and steady, fanning against your skin. "But now, I think it's time I stop being so... subtle."

Your heart pounded, torn between the thrill of his closeness and the fear of how much he knew-how much he'd seen. The intensity in his eyes, the possessiveness that radiated off him-it was overwhelming.

"Sylus, please" you breathed, not even sure what you were asking for. A part of you wanted him to stop, to give you space to think, but another part, the part he was awakening with every word, with every slow caress, wanted to give in. You could see the hunger in his eyes-the need to own every part of you.

His lips twisted into a knowing smirk.

"Please? You're going to have to be more specific than that, kitten. Do you want me to stop?" His fingers slid up to your chin, forcing you to look at him again, to confront the heat in his gaze.

You swallowed hard, your body betraying you with every beat of your heart. You should tell him to stop, but you couldn't deny the way your body responded to his. It was maddening.

He leaned in closer, his lips brushing against yours, so close that the air between you felt like a spark about to ignite. But he didn't kiss you. Not yet. Instead, he held you there, teasing, making you wait.

"You're mine” he murmured, his voice a rough whisper, "whether you admit it or not." His eyes darkened, his hand tightening slightly around your waist as if to make the point clear. "And now that l've seen how much you want me... well, kitten, there's no turning back."

A shiver ran through you, but this time, it wasn't just fear. It was anticipation. Sylus had seen everything-your vulnerability, your desires—and now he wasn't just your protector, your stalker. He was the one thing you couldn't run from.

Without warning, his lips crashed down on yours, the kiss rough and claiming. It was everything you'd feared, everything you'd secretly craved. His mouth moved against yours with a hunger that stole your breath, his hands gripping your hips possessively as he deepened the kiss.

When he finally pulled back, you were left gasping, your body trembling under the weight of what had just happened. He looked down at you with that smug, satisfied grin, as if he knew exactly the effect he had on you.

"You'll never be able to hide from me, sweetie," he said softly, almost sweetly, but there was that edge to his voice, a dark promise laced within the words. "I'll always know what you're doing, what you're thinking."

His hand slid up your arm, fingers brushing against your neck, making you shiver. "And next time," he whispered, his lips close to your ear, "you won't be playing with yourself alone. You'll be mine. Completely."

The room felt heavy with tension, the air thick with the weight of his words. You knew Sylus was serious. There was no escaping him, not now, not after this.

And maybe, just maybe, you didn't want to escape at all.

[chaos-in-deepspace]

LADS Xavier: Galaxy Hands | SFW

Look at me. LOOK AT ME. I dun wanna hear nufin about bad typos in this one. I just got my nails done yesterday and they're so long in comparison to how they normally are. I am learning how to type all over again and ya...this was written in fifteen minutes.

Pairings Xavier x Reader Warnings None Disclaimer: This is an original fan work for “Love and Deepspace”. Do not repost on other platforms or plagiarize. All characters shown in this fic is 18+.

Blog Information | Masterlist

Xavier

```You had decided, for once, to treat yourself. To paint your nails despite knowing that while working tomorrow they would probably get ruined in some way. You knew your job wasn't exactly one where you could have fancy nails, so you felt it simple. Instead of going somewhere, you opted to just do it yourself.

Xavier hadn't questioned it when you showed up to his home with a small box in hand, nor did he ask why you were setting things up in his living room. Instead he just sat and watched as you got out the polishes and began working on your hands.

He was snacking, enjoying some pocky while watching you from the couch. The way you were sat on the floor, relaxed, and just focused on the task. It was relaxing for you, the small motions, waiting for it to dry between coats, and then finishing it. It had taken a good half hour, and the entire time the apartment was basked in silence.

When you finally looked at them, you smiled. It was simple, a black undercoat with a holographic purple and blue on top of it. The way the top coat made it shine had you staring at them for a little longer than you normally would.

Then you felt a hand taking your own and you looked to see Xavier. He was staring at the design on your hand with a gentle look in those beautiful blue eyes of his, "It looks like a starry sky." he finally said, breaking the silence that had been there since you had first come over.

"I know, I wasn't expecting it. This is the first time I tried this polish." You admitted. You had expected it to look nice, but you hadn't expected to have a literal galaxy on your nails when you had finished them.

You blushed when Xavier brought your hand up to his mouth, pressing a gentle kiss onto the knuckles of your hand. Your nails were, at this point, mainly dry, but he was still being so delicate with them that it surprised you.

"I like them." He finally said, "Why don't you paint your nails for often? You're pretty good at it." he noted as he looked them over. It was like he was transfixed on your hands at the moment and you let out a nervous chuckle.

"I mean, they'll just be ruined tomorrow while I'm at work. Doesn't make sense to do them every day." you pointed out and he nodded.

"Aren't there ways to make them last longer?" his finger were gently playing with your hand as he looked at you. "I know I've seen Tara with her nails done a few times." what he really meant was how he had seen Tara shoving her hands in your face before to gush about her nails, but that was neither here nor there.

"I mean I guess if I got them done professionally with a gel or something they'd last longer." You murmured.

"Then how about on your next day off you do that?" Xavier suggested, "It's clear you like your nails like this."

"I feel like you're enjoying them more." you pointed out, taking your hand away from his to gently bop his nose with one finger. He gave you an amused smile as he took your hand back and placed it on his cheek.

"I do. We can go together if you'd like." he said and you gave him a questioning glance.

"Oh, and are you going to get your nails done as well?" You pinched his cheek and he gave you a soft smile.

"Perhaps. Would it make you happy if I did?"

You took a moment to think about it. Xavier did have pretty hands, and his nail bed was long. Even if he kept his nails short, there was a lot you could do with them. "Ya, I think it would. I'll ask Tara where she goes tomorrow and make an appointment for us." you said as you leaned down. You pressede a quick kiss to his nose and he looked at you with a pout.

"You missed…" he muttered, and before you could ask what he meant, his lips were pressing against your own. You hummed into it, savoring the feeling of his mouth on yours as he pulled away, "There, that's better." he said, then quickly kissed your cheek. He went to grab your hand again, staring at the color for a moment more, "Now…how about we get some dinner."```

[moodymisty]

I’ve been thinking about our resident fail wizard and have come up with two ideas for a request about him, pick which ever one appeals to you.

Maybe some cute pre heresy encounter with Ahriman, you are one of the rembrancer or chapter serf attached to the Thousand Sons legion. You find yourself amazed and interested in the warp sorcery that the legion performs and Ahriman strike up a conversation with you after seeing your admiring glance

Or post heresy your another psyker or acolyte of Tzneetch who been roped into helping Ahriman find a cure for the Rubric post heresy. You don’t really have a choice in the matter and so are forced to help him. Though as you spend more time together, pouring over ancient tomes and following leads, you can’t help but feel Azhek’s eyes on you more and more. Never escaping the feeling that you’ve begun to take up his attention more and more

Author's note: I love meetcutes, so i had to do the first one lol enjoy a little snippet

Relationships: Azhek Ahriman/Gn!Reader

Warnings: None really

It's always fascinated you- how the warp comes to them so easily.

They seem so natural with it, a power beyond your imagination is simply at their fingertips, cast in a million and one different shapes and forms. It's endless, boundless, yet they seem able to twist it to their desires at their beck and call. With an everexpanding grasp as well, each time you see them it's something new; A new spell at their fingertips or lips.

You don't mean to interrupt him; You were only taking a momentary breather in the night air before going to your bedchambers. This has always been your favorite spot, a small balcony overlooking vast portions of Prospero.

instead of being alone however you find Lord Ahriman on the balcony, flipping through the pages of a book that floats to his left as if hung by invisible strings.

You find yourself awestruck by the sight, and when he looks to you the warmth of his eyes is almost hypnotizing.

"You seem quite surprised,"

He says, and you quickly divert your eyes downward and partly bow in the proper show of respect. You hadn’t expected someone of his stature here, you barely had time to compose yourself.

"I, I am so sorry Lord Ahriman."

You raise your head up and take yet another glance towards his floating book, eyes catching on the odd way the very air around it seems distorted. Then they look towards him as you await his orders- you presume they will be to dismiss you- before glancing to his book again.

"You seem quite interested. Is something on your mind?"

You look back up at him; The moonlight casts his tanned skin in a pristine glow, only broken up by the way his scars cast the light differently. His armor is cleaned, the white fabric draping over harsh metal edges and smoothing out like flowing water.

You take a small step closer, words on your tongue.

"Is it..." You purse your lips, trying to find the right words. "What does it feel like?"

The gentle evening breeze blows through your clothes, sending them flying about before landing back against your skin. You still have trouble looking him in the eyes, holding your arms close to your body.

"I don't think there are any words to describe it, little one."

He watches the look on your face change curiously, before giving a breathy chuckle.

"I didn't mean to disappoint."

You can’t help the feeling of disappointment that crosses your face, the feeling of not fully understanding. You want to know more, you need to know more, but your lot in life has seemingly denied you.

Ahriman finds that amusing; And perhaps worth a bit of his pity. A bright young mind, forever closed off from learning more. But yet you yearn so eagerly, so wantonly for more.

In a fit of impulsiveness you reach your hand outward into the oddly warping air around his tome, feeling the way the air changes in a way indescribable. Ahriman lets you, watching amused as you pull your hand away.

“I don’t think I’ve seen a mortal quite as stupidly curious as you.” He smiles a bit, even as you shirk away and await admonishment.

How doesn’t however, and instead makes a bit of room at his side.

“Let me show you a few more wonders, if a floating book can mesmerize you so.”

[girlfriendsofthegalaxy]

tuesday again 9/24/2024

you might be wondering “is my dear friend tumblr user girlfriendsofthegalaxy still unemployed?” the answer is yes. take this cat off my hands please i don’t think he’s causing the unemployment but he certainly isn’t helping

listening

via Wendy @dying-suffering-french-stalkers, Huoy Meas' ប្រគល់ក្ដីស្នេហ៍មកខ្ញុំវិញ. figuring out what this incredibly zippy Cambodian rock song is named and what it's about was really difficult bc spotify is a bane upon this earth and won't let you fucking copy-paste and OCR was not working on the Khmer script. i ended up listening to the first couple seconds of each of her songs on apple music, and finally figured out this roughly translates to Give Me Back My Love and is about begging a fuckboy for closure.

via the spotify discover weekly, Night Club's Pretty Girls Do Ugly Things. all Night Club's songs sound the same so if you like one, great news! i had this song on for a full gregorian hour bc, i am only a tiny bit ashamed to say, i was storyboarding a The Man With No Name fancam to this. i think it would go pretty hard.

Smoke you like a cigarette Choke you like a lariat Fatalistic tourniquet Do you want more?

-

reading

thank you mackintosh.

i did not Adore any of these comics from the library. i sort of enjoyed Night of the Ghoul, a one-volume TPB by Scott Snyder and Francesco Francavilla. i think ive blogged about this before but every once in a while i'll get a bee in my bonnet to read some horror comics even though i am a giant baby about horror movies.

Night of the Ghoul is about how you can't save your dad from PTSD but also about a lost horror film and also about the extremely dad behavior of tracking down every scrap of info about an auteur. there's also a monster.

the subtle art changes from present day to the remains of the film to the non-film flashbacks are well done, imo. the cover screams mignola but the inside pages are really fun pulp nonsense. i love a piece of genre writing that rolls around and delights in being a piece of genre writing.

im doing my level best not to get sucked into tiktok but i DO love watching this lady revive antique nail polish and look for dupes for shades from like the 20s. she found an almost exact dupe for a shade produced during wwii which is crazy insane to me!!!

-

watching

The Asphalt Jungle (1950, dir. Huston), it's a very painterly heist noir. i even like Sterling Hayden in one of the more prominent roles, even though i think he generally has the appeal of undercooked dough.

much like Fritz Lang's M, it presents the criminal element of the city as its own class with its own reputation and reference systems. it got in some trouble with the censors for having a VERY clearly laid out heist plan and execution. it's also got the babiest Marilyn Monroe in one of her earliest roles

this was such a gloriously messy movie. everyone is such a fucking mess. this woman only known as Doll is heartbreakingly, head over heels in love with Sterling Hayden's character. she's a little flighty and bumbling and silly, but determined! they're constantly orbiting the gravitational weight of her desire for this man and desire for a real life with this man. and that's just one subplot! she has maybe five minutes total screentime! she should have gotten a supporting actress oscar!!! everyone acted their fucking hearts out and it was so much fun to watch!

-

playing

monument valley is in the netflix games library this month (i don't actually know what their liscencing agreements would even look like, they and the studios they worked with were very tightlipped about that when they were rolling this out three years ago) but i assume it's going to be on the service for a while. i have never played this game, which makes me feel a little bit like a bad gamer. you can tell it's ten years old from some of the color and texture choices, but WOW did literally everyone take inspiration from this game.

this is the platonic ideal of a phone game. i get why everyone went insane about it and there was a brief boom of geometry-based puzzle mobile games. it is MUCH much harder now to get people to pay money to play a game that has a planned endpoint and planned number of levels, so netflix is a good home for it.

i was often frustrated but always delighted. the level below involves making something happening that made me genuinely gasp out loud in glee. well worth the annoyance of downloading the netflix app and scrolling through the poorly labeled and poorly sorted carousel of games.

great retrospective, a bit about how you need to have tiny teams go off and just kind of fuck around and bring weird stuff back, and a lot about how they actually designed the levels

The end result had a pixel-perfect axonometric aesthetic that not only went hard on its references to Dutch master artist and printmaker Maurits Cornelis Escher, but also dug deep into classic video game design, going right back to early arcade machines and 8-bit titles. Each of the ten levels is like a piece of fine furniture, built with invisible dovetail joints and inlaid with marquetry, stuffed with secret compartments and little design flourishes. Gray cites the world of theatre and stage design, as well as graphics, as important keystones in the way the levels were constructed. ‘Ken would always talk about flower arranging, and how you frame a silhouette of a level on the screen,’ he says.

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making

update on the Phantom Menace fabric: pinked the raw edges and threw it in the laundry again with a very large quantity of vinegar. 50% poly was too high for it to really do anything, which is interesting. it didn’t lessen the seam edge effects either, which is a little annoying bc the seams were so gigantic and that’s a good chunk of fabric to lose. i am going to buy a camp shirt pattern at some point when i have money again but for now it goes in The Box

also! thrifted a pack of o-rings for jars for a dollar and finally put my grains etc in my pretty jars. they’re going to live in the pantry but today they live out on the countertop

[pinkchaosnight]

so here is my adar request. basically in which the fem!reader is taken in ep 5 instead of galadriel. once in adar's tent (during ep 6) they talk and get into a heated discussion about sauron and eregion. their banter gets so intense that glûg walks inside to see if everything is okay and then they both snap at them in union and then glûg whispers something like "oh no, dad and mom are fighting" idk something humorous lol. (excuse my grammar mistakes - English is not my native language). i need tension like air.

omg , tysm for this ask. its absolutely flawless. i enjoyed this ep so much! i have initially thought of doing a small imagine but somehow it turned it into this long, also i diverged from the ask slightly too🥹. i have changed some dialouges and scenarios. i hope you enjoy them!

pull of threads - (adar × fem!reader)

summary: dinner with adar is never straightforward is it? when especially you are captured and essentially sort of a prisoner?

(reimagined rings of power ep 6 where reader gets captured instead of Galadriel)

pairing : adar x female!reader

notes : english is not my first language, so i apologize in advance for the errors you might encounter. i have not properly edited, so please let me know if you find any error.

the uruk leader seated across you is poking his food with a vigour, as he regards you with suspicion. humiliation might be the nicest thing you can describe about what you are feeling right now, (along with some other feelings too but you blatantly ignore them) being captured as a prisoner. you were Lady Galadriel's friend and the her aide, until a few months ago when you retired from your post. everything that was going on was so overwhelming that you had to step away from your duties and that's exactly what you did. you travelled around, mostly staying in woods and forests and praying orcs don't chase you. you almost succeeded too until you recieved a letter from Lady Galadriel stating she needed your help, now that they are going to warn Celebrimbor about Halbrand being Sauron. you were reading her letter without a care for your surrounding that unfortunately resulted in you being captured and brought to the uruk camp. and thats why you were currently in this situation, being seated in front the uruk leader. Adar, he is called, as you recall from the days Lady Galadriel captured him many months ago.

the tent which was made up of dirty rags, was surprisingly warm, with a fireplace and a huge table laden with food. combinations of food that seems almost a disgrace to the plates it hold ; with berries, onions and meat. whoever did the dinner should be tossed into the cliff. the said uruk leader was now biting into a piece of meat from god knows what, as he watches you. if he is hoping to catch something from your expression he has another thing coming for him, as you keep your face as emotionless as you can, although Eru knows for how long.

" from my brief time in your Commander's capture, I guessed she was intent on finding Sauron. almost consumed by the thought of it, one might say." his words sliced the depth of silence that hanged between you and him.

" former Commander. and it is none of your concern what her intentions are. who are you to know her mind? you who could not even resist the allure of Sauron's words?" you reply in a monotonous way, hoping he doesn't find anything there.

Adar stops as he hears those words, as he slowly puts down the piece of food he is chewing. he remembers the first time he saw you; being chained up after being captured by Galadriel. all around him was dark but you came with a jar of water and a loaf of bread for him, when everybody was kind of neglecting him, except for when they needed information and torturing. that simple act of kindess and the conversions that ranged from 'hello' to a simple 'have a good day' that followed from your side warmed what little was left of his beating heart. he remember you being firercely loyal to Galadriel yet having a mind of your own to speak if necessary. he remembers how you disagreed when your commander spoke of his children as slaves. and above all, he remembers how you exuded a sense of warmth in that cold space.

now he looks at you in surprise as he leans forward "former?"

you squirm uncomfortably in your seat. after all, how could you let him know that one of the reasons why you left the army and being her secondin command, was his words? the converstion between him, Lady Galadriel and you, when he was captured really messed up your perceptive. other elves could not see but you saw what he was trying to say; that the uruks were just as worthy of lives and living as other creations of Eru, as each had a heart. you remember disagreeing with Lady Galadriel when she mentioned them as slaves, and Adar's eyes flashing in you direction, with ambiguous emotions.

shaking out of your reverie you say "yes, i am no longer her second in command, so its really useless to have me captured in here. i can offer you nothing. "

adar chuckles at your statement, as he rises from his seat and strides towards you. he stops infront of your chair, as he looks at you with an intense stare. and you couldn't help but stare back at him. those eyes, surrounded by scars and years of mutilation, made your heart ache with pain. you wonder what he was thinking, what he was plotting behind those somber eyes of his. you always wondered what happened to him after you ran away from the campsite that day. you retired and wandered in woods after that incident, with nothing to keep you company but fragments of him in your memory. love and hatred have a fine line separating them; you often heard from your friends and in those lonely nights on the woods you wandered if that is true. if you can cross that line with bravery. something that you are afraid to reveal to anyone. he was the one in your mind and on the other side of that fine line, as swirls of feeling wound up in your heart. a dangerous feeling to have for man who is going to kill you......one day.

"who says you can offer me nothing?" he says as he strides close to your face and tucks a strand of hair back. funny he did that because you had the same thought too, of brushing the loose hair of his and tucking it back. "my children found this in your bag" he says as he pulls out the scroll from a table behind you. "we know the elven army is approaching to find Sauron, in Eregion. And that has all the confirmation i want. and i know Halbrand is Sauron"

desperation washes over you as you see the scroll of paper Lady Galadriel wrote and gave you to read before she parted ways. you never got a chance to read the rest of paper as she and you went seprate ways, before you got caught by his minions.

" whatever your plan is, it is not going to work " you say with venom, as you stand up in anger (or so you thought stubbornly), coming face to face with him.

"do you know what Sauron promised me? " Adar asks you as he studies your expression flits from anger to confusion "children, he promised me children. and he made that promise into weapons of wars, my children mere tools for his gratifications, something which can be eradicated at his whims" he says, his voice a tad quite and flushed with sadness. it took all my willpower to keep my hands from reaching his and comforting him.

" you are going to kill him Eregion, aren't you?" i ask as realisation hits me a few seconds later. he moves back a few paces, widening the tantalizing distance betweeen us and doesn't reply as he keeps his back to me.

" you cannot, i think it is his plan too. i just have feeling in my heart this is exactly what he wants. for you to lead your army to him. we must ask Lady Galadriel's advice" i say as he turns and shoots me a look of disbelief.

"why should i listen to the words of someone whose race is hellbent on eradicating us from the face of this plane?" he shouts as he paces towards you, shaking with anger. "i did not capture you to hear your advice. Eregion will fall and Sauron with it" he says as closes the distance between us, trapping me between the chair and him.

"i want Sauron to fall too, i want to kill him and make sure he is permanently wiped off from this earth. but not in this way." i shriek in his face, which was merely inches apart from mine.

"i do not know why you care if i lead my army or not " he hisses as he moves back from me again, his eyes capturing my own ones in anger and perhaps sadness.

there is a tipping point for everyone's anger and you could feel his words pushing you to yours. you could no longer hold the feelings erupting inside you as you shouts." i care because this will all be ending in blooshed. i care because all my loved ones are going there and i don't want them to die. i care for the lives that will be sacrificed if you chose to follow this foolish plan of yours. and i care that something will happen to you and you will not make it out alive"

reality of the words registers in your brain as soon as the words escape your mouth. you have opened your heart and mouth and let all the dam of emotions you kept inside to turn into a river. and now you are going to suffer the consequences, preferably being submerged in those same waters, which you so kept in binds inside your now erratically beating organ.

Adar was stunned, staring at you in utter silence. his heart tingled, with the same warmth he felt months ago in your presence. his ears has always been the receiver of abuse and bad news, never the object to receive the sentiment with which you uttered the words quite a few seconds ago; words with care...and love. he slowly steps forward you, his hands unclenching from the remnant of his anger and reaching towards your face "you ....care about me.....?" his voice is a mere whisper, tinged with something you couldn't place. this goddess, this beacon of kindness care about him?

you wanted to melt into those eyes of his, that is oh so mysterious and perhaps you would have, if the tents did not flap open suddenly.

" lord father, glûg here. i heard shouts coming from outside. i was worried and just came inside to check if you are okay and if nan--" glûg stops as he sees you standing closely to his lord father. you notice his surprise being replaced with a slight smirk in your direction.

"get out" adar and you both says in unison, as you turn towards the orc in annoyance.

"certainly lord father" glûg says as turns away to exit "just lover's quarrel, lord father and naneth better make up". he exits as quickly as he can, muttering to himself.

you turn your head towards him, only to catch his eyes searching your face "yes i do care about you...." your voice is shaking but not in anger and with some other emotions you tried so hard to bury.

a flicker of emotions passes over his eyes as he glazes his vision over you "you think you are the only one who cares? why did you even think i captured you instead of your Commander, when i could have easily caught her and gotten the information too? why did you think you never encountered any orcs while you were sauntering through the woods? never have you escaped from my mind for a moment from the day we met. i tried so hard to keep every emotions i am feeling, hidden from you. but tonight i can't and i won't. i know i am a monster, an abomination for someone so kind as you. but tonight i am baring the one thing that has not been tainted by the evil , to your hands."

he places your hand on his chest, as you your eyes brim with tears. you feel his heart beating erratically, mirroring yours. "from the day you pulled me from that dark abyss, i decided that this heart will only belong to one person, to the one person this heart wholeheartedly loves."

time stops as you hears his words, it is like honey being poured into your ears. "so does mine too" you reciprocate, as you places his hands on your chest. "you are neither a monster nor an abomination. you are beautiful as Eru's any other creation. i even left the army because of you. because you keep on invading my everyday thoughts. and i kept thinking of how you are my enemy and i how i should hate you. but my heart never responded to any negative emotions, for all it had was love for you."

fianlly you can let this emotion run free, this plaguing need for him that you tried so hard to conceal. you would have stood there for eternity, for all of your immortal life, with his warm hands pressing yours into his chest. no words are exchanged betweeen you two in these seconds; no words are needed as the beating of your heart and the measure of your breath are enough to convey the feelings pouring off from both of you. he slowly closes the already miniscule distance betweeen you, as you step forward at the same time too, the tantalizing distance between your lips almost unbearable. you can feel his breath near your mouth, as your lips part with breathlessness and need. you just need to lean forward and place your mouth. you slowly reach forward, just enough to press the lips against his----

" lord father, i got a sudden report that---what is happening here?" glûg's voice rang across the tent as you and adar both turned to his direction.

" GET OUT GLÛG" you both cries in unison as poor glûg scurries off, being banished from the tent second time. but not before he catches a warm smile passing over his lord father. glûg catches from his peripheral vision, of his lord father pressing a chaste kiss in your cheek before placing his forehead against yours and smiling a genuine smile, which he has never seen.

'things will be good from now on' glûg thinks as he passes over to the next tent, thinking of the elf that thawed the ice of his lord father's heart. the one his lord father told him about months; the one lord father instructed him to call naneth in the future. and the one who made his lord father whole again after eons.

extra notes - all the asks i got, i will update them by this week itself, tysm for requesting! please leave a like and reblog and if you enjoyed reading them. hope everyone have an amazing day :)

[rivendell-poet]

I loved the little sibling headcanons so much! But reading Legolas’s part gave me a small idea for Thranduil because he is such father-coded sometimes.

So what if the same reader always had bandages wound around the entirety of their right eye and some of their right cheek for some secret reason that nobody knows. Thranduil is slightly intrigued by how this human teenager manages to fight so well despite being disadvantaged in sight, and after he grows much closer to them, he asks them about the bandages. And because reader trusts him a lot more than before, they (sort of) hesitantly take off the bandages and reveals how the entire bandaged area was heavily damaged/scarred from dragon fire mostly due to their recklessness a few years back. I think it’d be interesting to see Thranduil’s reaction towards a young human that also suffered from the feared dragon fire. I don’t mind if you write headcanons or a scenario for this :)

Btw sorry if this request was weird 😅 I just think that Thranduil’s character has so much to be explored, especially as we don’t see him interact as much with humans and younglings

Glad you liked the little sibling hcs! I'm always weak for platonic!lotr <3 And please don't worry about your request - I loved it, and I'm only sorry it took me so long to write. Hopefully you enjoy <3

*･༓˚✧ ❝𝐓𝐡𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐮𝐢𝐥 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐚 𝐝𝐫𝐚𝐠𝐨𝐧-𝐟𝐢𝐫𝐞 𝐬𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫❞ ‧͙⁺˚༓˚✧ « scenarios »

Gender-neutral reader | Wordcount : 1k | TWs : Brief discussion of scaring

✧ When he first meets you, a lone human who has somehow managed to brave Mirkwood, his mind doesn’t pay too much attention to the bandages.

✧ Another human eccentricity.

✧ It’s only after, when the scouts are quick to dole out praise for you - praise that does not come lightly from elves - that he thinks back to them. How you are able to fight remarkably well with something covering your right eye.

✧ Not that it matters to him when he calls for you to be escorted to a room and watched.

✧ Thranduil is a kinder king when not dealing with dwarves and dishonest folk, so has no reason to throw you into the dungeons. He doesn’t fully trust you at first, but that can be left until tomorrow.

✧  Late next morning you are invited to his chambers after eating, and he asks questions of you - why you are in Mirkwood, your age and general motivations. But not your bandages.

✧ Until the very end, when he asks if you would like to see a healer for your injuries.

✧ Your freezing is almost imperceptible to humans, but obvious to an elf. You decline, hands still frozen by your sides, but he lets you go without further issues.

✧ Mirkwood’s palace is a great haven for you - full of scrolls of lore, warriors of the highest skill, and places of respite if it is needed.

✧ When you initially only planned on staying for a day in there, you soon find yourself becoming familiar with your room. And then days turn into weeks, and the rest of Mirkwood becomes more familiar as well.

✧ Once you’ve become more comfortable with the elves you go down to spar, and to your surprise there are some happy to train with you.

✧ Although you are not as skilled as an elf they acknowledge your talent for what it is, impressed.

✧ Whispers spread all the way through Mirkwood, and even the king is reached by them eventually.

✧ Thranduil asks to be kept up to date about you, of course, as you are in his kingdom. Word reaches him that you managed to disarm a guard, and for some reason he feels genuine pride in the news.

✧ As the guard turns to leave, Thranduil asks when you had the bandages removed and by who.

✧ The guard answers that you haven’t.

✧ You’re not blind to the stares at your bandage, but something new has been occurring. There’s even more subtle glances, but less questioning about it. As though your bandage is now something to be observed, and not questioned.

✧ The excitement around it eventually dies down, especially as weeks in Mirkwood become months.

✧ It’s around the first month mark that Thranduil requests to see you again.

✧ Being summoned by the king is nerve-wracking, but once you’ve been around him for a while you become more relaxed.

✧ He doesn’t behave like the rigid, cold but regal king you were expecting. He is still regal, effortlessly so, but there is warmth in his gaze - when he asks you about your day, or compliments your progress.

✧ Some days you don’t even have to tell him about the feat you accomplished, as he already seems to know. But he still listens intently when you explain it, asking questions in just the right places - and always with sincerity.

✧ Over time, you begin to think of him a small bit like a father.

✧ Then one day, he asks you about your bandages. Why you still wear them after so long.

✧ He regrets it when he sees you freeze up, but when he begins to talk you raise a hand to stop.

✧ Hesitantly, you begin to remove the bandages from around you, not looking at him until they’re all of.

✧ As soon as Thranduil can see your face he recognises dragonfire on it. Scars so similar to his own, but on the face of a young human instead of an elven king.

✧ You can see the shock on his face as his eyes seem to sweep every area of the scars and not want to settle back on you. You take a deep breath, beginning to apologise for them.

✧ “There is no need.”

✧ Thranduil interrupts, softly but it stops you instantly. “The wounds you bear show you have survived, that you have faced dragonfire and lived. You… you should not need to be ashamed of them.”

✧ The revelation is surprising, but it makes you smile. You thank him, for being understanding about them - and he responds that he always will be, will always support you.

✧ There’s some deeper meaning to his words, but you cannot quite decipher it.

✧ The rest of your meeting is fairly normal, until the end when he asks questions you did not expect. How it affects you, if you can still see out of that eye - if you are in any pain.

✧ Each question you answer honestly, and any complaint that is raised he instantly tackles - doing his utmost to make sure you are comfortable.

✧ As you leave you turn to bow goodnight, and it looks as if he is about to say something before bidding you goodnight as well.

✧ In the morning you receive a summons to his chambers for later that day.

✧ For the first time you walk to Thranduil’s room without bandages covering your face, but you don’t find yourself afraid of him. Of him judging you.

✧ When you walk in there’s a nervous air. But not from you. From Thranduil.

✧ And he apologises, for not being honest sooner.

✧ You watch as the smooth perfections of his face give way to scars that being to mimic your own.

✧ “I would have told you sooner, if I had known you would understand this pain. I am sorry for not telling you.”

✧ The silence is loud, and then you move closer.

✧ “There is nothing to apologise for.”

A/N : Hopefully you liked it! Sorry if it wasn't as father-coded as you liked, I think I got a bit too deep into lore and setting up the story. But this is the second scenario in a row I've been very interested in expanding, so let me know if there's more interest in this universe!

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