badnarutoscreencaps

[sailorrhansol]

hi! long time reader, first time submit-er :) could i request a dilf!wonwoo fic where you’re trying to get your kids out the door to trick or treat with a friend or a family member because you and wonwoo have a halloween party and you get self conscious that you don’t look hot enough in your costume but wonwoo disagrees? very fluffy, maybe even smutty if that works for you hehe

❀ Pairing: Dad!Wonwoo x Mom!reader 

❀ Summary: For the first Halloween in years, you and Wonwoo are able to enjoy it together without the kids. When you feel a little nervous about your costume, Wonwoo is determined to show you that you’ve always been the sweetest thing. 

❀ Word Count: 2,278

❀ Genre: Slice of Life, Married Couple/Parents

❀ Type: Smut, Fluff

❀ Rating: 18+ Minors are strictly prohibited from engaging in and reading this content. It contains explicit content and any minors discovered reading or engaging with this work will be blocked immediately.

❀ Warnings: Light mentions of anxiety regarding letting kids go trick-or-treating without them, slight body insecurity and light mentions of a skirt not fitting comfortably, sexually explicit content including oral (f. receiving), vaginal fingering, spitting, hair pulling, stupid and corny during sex. 

❀ A/N: Hey so anyway I’m not even that big of a fan of dilf-teen or parent-fic but here we are and I am ACTUALLY VERY INTERESTED IN DAD WONWOO NOW. SO THIS IS NOW YOUR FAULT THAT I’M THINKING ABOUT IT. Also the visual of Jihoon with a kid on his shoulders sent me into an early grave. 

❀ A/N 2: PLEASE THE BANNER IS NERDY BUT THEY’RE DRESSED AS COWBOYS OK LMFAO

❀ Disclaimer: Disclaimer: All members of Seventeen are faces and name claims for stories. Any scenarios or representations of the people and places mentioned in works are not representative of real-life scenarios. Moreover, none of my works accurately reflect, represent or take a stance on the nuances of Korean culture, cities, people etc. Seventeen members are not Seventeen culturally, intellectually, physically, or representationally in my stories, and should be considered name and face stand-ins for made up characters.

Main Masterlist ❀ Tag List Request Form ❀ Ask ❀ Haliween

“Soonyoung, her crown!” You warn, watching as your friend smacks the plastic crown off Haen’s head. She doesn’t seem to notice, too busy digging her greedy little hands in the pocket of his tiger onesie where she knows she’ll find candy. “Are you sure you can do this?” 

Soonyoung scoffs. His outrage is lessened by the ridiculous tiger onesie he’s in, the suit zipped to the neck and the hood pulled up over his head. He’s got Iseul in his arms, cradling her in her dragon costume as she pulls on his hood while Haen reveals a Jolly Rancher. 

“Maybe we-”

Wonwoo’s hand on your lower back cuts you off as he steps through the door frame. He pitches his voice low and gentle as he crouches down, eye level with your eldest child. “Hey, no candy until after. We agreed, remember?” 

Pouting, she shoves the candy back inside Soonyoung’s pocket. Behind him, Jihoon and Jeonghan snort. “Yes, daddy. Sorry, I excited.” 

Mouth pressed firmly to hide your smile, you feel the overwhelming sense of love for her as she puts her hands behind her back, waiting patiently for Soonyoung to escort her down the steps and sidewalk to go trick-or-treating. 

“We’ll be fine,” Soonyoung assures, pouting as he takes Haen’s hand and spins around. Your other friends hold out the empty buckets made to be filled with candy. “We promised we had them, and we do!”

Wonwoo stands, hand sliding up your back as he does. “You remember where the key is?” 

“Yes, daddy,” Soonyoung calls over his shoulder. He passes Iseul to Jeonghan, who holds her far less precariously. “We’ll let you know when we’re back. Go out on the town or whatever it is parents with no kids do.” 

Children and parents line the streets. You watch your little group of friends with your two kids meander down the sidewalk, Jihoon immediately lifting Haeun to put her on his shoulders. Nerves eat away at you as they finally vanish from your line of vision, lost to the other swarms of trick-or-treaters and bobbing halloween lights hanging from trees. 

“Maybe we should-”

“Nope,” Wonwoo says gently, pulling you toward him. “They’ll do fine. Jihoon is with them, what could go wrong?”

Blowing out a sigh you nod, taking a moment to just drink him in. As much as he hates dressing up on Halloween, he’s done it again this year for you, dressed in the exact cowboy costume that you had put together for him. It’s less a costume than it is precariously picked clothes - the tan, suede button up and brown leather pants had already been in his closet, along with the belt and bolo tie. You’d just purchased the hat and the boots to complete the look.

And it is a look.

Wonwoo has always had the annoying ability to look good in whatever he wears. It doesn’t matter if he’s sitting on the couch in a shirt with juice stains from Iseul spilling her apple juice all over him or if he’s in a pressed suit at a company holiday party - he looks good in everything. 

Heading back inside, you catch yourself in the mirror near the entrance, tugging at your skirt a little. It’s a little higher and tighter than you remember, and the button digs into your stomach a bit more than you like. Chewing your lip, you quickly turn from the mirror, busying yourself in the kitchen looking for your car keys and purse.

Wonwoo follows you silently, leaning against the door frame as he watches you. His eyes are heavy on you, your stomach fluttering as you drop a credit card onto the floor. Cursing, you bend down to get it, feeling the skirt hug you tightly and restrict your movement for a second. 

“I’ve got it,” he says quietly, pushing off the wall.

“No, no,” you manage to peel it off the tile. “This damn skirt is so much tighter than it used to be. God.” Standing up again, you shove your card into the wallet, not meeting his eyes as he drifts toward you. “Maybe I should change.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know. Maybe it’s just… I don’t know.”

“I think it looks fucking fantastic.” You roll your eyes, looking at him with a deadpan stare. His mouth twitches a little as he drops his gaze to the jean skirt in question. “You look fucking hot.” 

“We’re married. You have to say that.”

“Weird. I don’t remember that being in our vows.” 

“It definitely was.” You fiddle with the zipper on your wallet, nibbling on your bottom lip. “I think it was right after in sickness. It said and always tell your wife she’s hot.” 

His laugh is throaty and he reaches for you. You let him, his hands soft as he pulls you toward him by the waist. He smells like spicy cologne and something that is distinctly Wonwoo. Instead of looking up to meet his gaze, you focus on the pocket of his shirt, lifting your hands to fidget with it and press it flat.

“Baby,” he murmurs. You still don’t look up at him, his voice sending a shiver down your spine. “I really like the skirt, but you can wear whatever you want.” 

“Yeah?” 

“Mhmm. It makes your legs look good. Not to mention…” One hand drifts from your hip to your ass, squeezing generously. Your breath catches and your eyes flick up to meet his. They’re dark, a playful edge to his gaze that you’re intimately familiar with. “You look good in everything to me.” 

“Hmm.”

“Hmm?” he imitates. Wonwoo’s fingers skim the edge of the skirt, brushing across your thighs. You shiver, clinging to him a little as your eyes flutter shut at the contact. You can feel your heart hammering in your chest as he says, “Want me to help you out of it?” 

The two of you have been together for nine years, married for six. You know every part of your best friend turned boyfriend turned husband. There is no corner of his heart he has left unturned to you, no thought that you cannot complete, no words he can speak that you don’t already know.

So when he asks if you want him to help you out of it you know what he’s asking you. He isn’t saying he’ll help you out and to pick out a new skirt. He isn’t asking you to change it. He doesn’t even want you to put the skirt back on, if his hungry gaze and the low pitch of his voice tells you anything. 

“I thought you wanted to go to the halloween party.”

His laugh comes out in a huff. “I’d like to get you out of that skirt more.” 

Wonwoo’s fingers curl around the edge of your skirt, a question. “Please.” 

Wonwoo has never denied you anything, and he doesn’t now. He spins you against the counter so that your hips are pressed to it, your back to his chest. He sinks his hands down your front, fingers deftly undoing the button. His hot breath is on your neck, his lips barely skimming your skin in an almost-kiss. 

Button popped, Wonwoo pulls the material open. Instead of rolling it down at the waist, his hand snakes into your skirt, pressing against your underwear as his mouth connects with your throat. You let out a breathy noise, melting in his arms as he presses his fingers to your clit over the silk of your underwear. 

“Oh,” you breath, going slack against him. He doesn’t mind, pinning you between him and the counter as he circles his fingers teasingly. He keeps his mouth busy, pressing wet kisses up your throat and toward your jaw. “Thought you wanted me out of it.” 

“I will,” he promises, nipping your jaw. You tilt your head to the side, giving him more access. The lower pit of your stomach burns with desire, sparking at his lazy touch. “Just wanted to touch first.”

“Slow ain’t your thing, cowboy?” 

“Nah, I’ve got a pretty thing that wants to take a ride.” 

Your laugh is cut off by a hiss, your head falling forward, as Wonwoo glides a finger down to press at your entrance. You feel your muscles clench, your stomach lurching as he teases you. A hand shoots to his wrist and you dig your fingers in, nails biting. 

“Be nice,” you warn sternly. 

“Mmm. You’re using your mommy voice.” 

“I wouldn’t have to if daddy was being nice.”

“Daddy says he’ll make up for it.” 

Daddy does. He always does. Wonwoo loves to tease you and make you beg for it, but he doesn’t now, fingers pulling your underwear to the side so he can stroke your pussy in full. He moans at the wetness he finds, hooking his chin over your shoulder to watch as he works his hand between your legs. 

Wonwoo’s fingers are deft and skillful, applying just the right pressure and stimulation to work you up. Your breath becomes stilted, feeling the ripples of pleasure as he gets you where he wants you. Pinned between him and the counter, you can’t move. Can’t squirm. Can’t buck your hands to meet his strokes when he sinks a finger into your cunt. 

“Fuck,” he rasps, pressing a messy kiss to your shoulder. “Like fucking silk.”

Heat creeps up your neck. You feel breathless under his attention, the heel of his palm pressing into your clit as Wonwoo leisurely fucks you with his finger, dragging it out only to slide up to your clit, circling gently. 

Your fingers dig into him as Wonwoo strings you along, enjoying the way your sounds turn airy and weak. He plays you perfectly, working you up until you feel your thighs twitching, eyes shut as you let him steer you toward your peak.

Wonwoo pulls his hand from your skirt, making you eyes fly open, mouth hanging open. Turning to yell at him over your shoulder, your words are lost as he drops to his knees, fingers yanking your skirt as he goes.

Cool air hits your legs as he taps your ankle, asking you to step out of the skirt. You do and he rewards you with a gentle kiss on the back of your thigh, his hands skimming up your legs. You feel the coolness wear his wet fingers leave a slick trail on your skin. 

Leaning forward, he plans another gentle kiss on the curve of your ass, making you laugh. He hums pleasantly, hands warm and explorative. He presses the small of your back gently, making you lean onto the counter, ass out. 

Delicately, he peels your underwear from your hips, tossing them somewhere else. His hands return to your legs, pressing gently to pry your thighs apart. He groans at your messy cunt, no doubt proud of his work. 

The marble countertop is freezing cold, ground you as you rest your cheek on it. You feel your chest heavy, holding your breath for a moment when Wonwoo leans forward and dips his tongue between your folds tentatively. 

“Soonyoung should take the kids more often,” Wonwoo notes, breath hitting you between the legs. You make a strangled sound, distracted by the way his fingers squeeze your thighs, digging into the meat of them. His tongue dips back in, dragging upward again. “Want to do this more.” 

“You - fuck - did this last night.” 

“Not with you bent over the counter and this pretty ass in my face.” His hand smacks your ass lightly, making you squeal. He laughs deep in his throat, a little bit of a groan as he mutters, “Exactly.” 

Wonwoo stops talking, mouth busy as he fastens his lips to your heat, sucking gently. He drives you insane, losing yourself in the way his tongue circles gently around your bundle of nerves. He alternates between tongue and lips, a shattering combination of heaven and hell as he works you toward an orgasm. 

His mouth isn’t the reason you fell in love with him, but as you start breaking apart, you think it might be a solid entry on the list of reasons. You reach back with one hand, knocking the hat off his head to tangle your fingers in his hair. He grunts, appreciative as he gives a particularly greedy suck, making your toes curl. 

“Fuck,” he mutters, breaking away for a second. His fingers peel you open and you moan when you feel him spit against your hole, clenching around nothing. “Who needs candy when I have the sweetest thing right here?”

“Wonwoo.” 

“You even melt in my mouth.”

“Wonwoo.”

He chuckles. “Yeah baby, I know.”

He always knows. He attaches his mouth back to you, slick and messy and loud as he works you to your orgasm. Your nails dig against his scalp - he doesn’t care. He lets you tug him further in, happy to press his face as close to your heat as possible. 

You press back into him, muscle clenching. You burst like a bubble, completely coming undone under his mouth as you come against him, face pressed to the counter. He pushes you through it, not letting you escape him when you try and wiggle away, tongue hot and hungry until you’re begging him to let up. 

Wonwoo pulls away, breathing heavily. His hands skate up and down your legs and suddenly you’re grateful your weight is all on the countertop, thighs totally useless. 

“God damn,” you pants, eyes shut.

“Yeah,” he agrees and stands. You feel him crowd you in, touch seeking your hips. “Catch your breath, partner. You still got a ride to go on.” 

-

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[madridfangirl]

Escape

Jude Bellingham comfort blurb.

Summary: Literally the title. Jude finds an escape from ongoing shit with the people he loves the most.

(Characters from Star Crossed Lovers.)

.................................................................................

'Heyy you.'

'Heyy.'

Ananya was met with a glum face and a glum voice when she video-called her boyfriend. Last 2 days were nothing short of hell for him. She had been away for her cousin's wedding in India, but the Clasico had bummed her out as well. They had exchanged messages and had a brief call but the wedding celebrations didn't leave her much time to spend with Jude.

And when she saw the Balon d'or fiasco while scrolling through her insta at the airport, her first reaction was disbelief. She wanted to throw her phone at the nearest wall. The travesty and scandal of the whole thing was beyond comprehension.

But she got her reaction out of her system before reaching out to him, knowing he would be 10 times as upset. Just last night he had sent her images of the fully done up suit, along with the classy watch (which she had picked). He had been so excited for the podium finish, to actually attend as one of the best players in the world and not an 'upcoming' player anymore. The post-event party was going to be epic too. But alas - the universe conspired against them real hard.

'How are you?'

'How do you think?'

He responded curtly, then checked his tone immediately.

'Just blah.'

'I know. Me too.'

'When did you see?'

'Just now when I reached the airport.'

She was about to board the connecting flight to Madrid.

'You?'

'Been a few hours.'

'You didn't tell me?'

'Didn't know where you would be. Didn't wanna upset you also.'

Upset was a massive understatement for what she was feeling right now. She wanted to burn down the world. Not just as Jude's girlfriend, but as a Madridista more.

But, she told herself what's done is done. She had to be strong for him. Both of them couldn't have a meltdown at the same time.

'Honestly thought it would be a good distraction from Saturday. But nahh. Man I still can't believe this is true.'

'Me neither. Part of me feels I'd wake up from this nightmare any second.'

'Yeah.'

'When do you go back to training?'

'Day after. Got tomorrow off as well now.'

'Hmm. Denise must be pampering you loads?'

First hint of a smile from the boy, as he thought of his mother fondly.

'Hotdog, pasta, cake, hugs - everything.'

'Awww. Didn't sing you a lullaby?'

She teased fondly.

'Won't put it past her.'

A half-smile again.

Jobe & Mark couldn't make it for the Clasico. Jobe's schedule didn't permit that. The brothers loved nothing more than to be there to support each other for big matches but the realities of their calendars barely permitted that.

Ananya hoped they had been able to make it. Would have been a massive comfort to Jude right now.

But Denise was a superwoman when it came to making Jude feel better & taking care of him. One of the best mums in the world.

Ananya had seen their bond up close for an year now. So she knew he was in good hands.

'She's the best.'

Ananya smiled genuinely at the screen.

'Don't know what I'd do without her honestly.'

He paused for a moment.

'And, without you.'

'Oh you'd walk around the streets crazy if it wasn't for me.'

She shrugged, grinning.

Jude smiled. The kind of smile that recahed his eyes. The ability of this girl to uplift his spirits, just by existing, befuddled him so much.

'How long till I see you?'

'Three hours. Boarding in 5 and coming straight to you from the airport.'

'Come sooner.'

She shook her head fondly at the screen.

'Unless you suddenly turned into Tony Stark and discovered a portal through time & space, not possible to come faster than a plane.'

'Such a nerd.'

'Proud of it.'

'Seriously, come soon.'

'Close your eyes. Take a nap. I'd be there when you wake up.'

Colour drained from his face at her words. He had barely slept AT ALL last two days. Even Denise's cuddles hadn't helped.

'Yeah, will try.'

'Jude, look at me.'

He looked up immediately.

'It's done. It sucks but it's done. Nothing will change it. Don't let it burn you from the inside. Last 2 days were shitty but we can only go up from here, yeah?'

'Easier said than done.'

'With you. 100%. It'd feel shitty for a while but hey, next 1.5 days, lets shut out the world and focus on what's dear to us, what's important, yeah? There is more to life, we both know that.'

'Hmmm.'

'I'll be there by lunch time. Should I get some Toblerone?'

'Yeah.'

'Cool, see you soon baby.'

'Come soon.'

'I'm coming.'

When she landed in Madrid and checked her phone, there were 5 missed calls from Jude. and a message to call him back as soon as she saw it.

Alarmed, she rang him up immediately.

'Hey, where are you? Don't leave the airport.'

'What?'

'We are going to Corsica for a day.'

'WHAT?'

'Mum and I are at the private section of the airport. There is a car waiting for you on arrivals. Sending you the details. Take that & come here. We fly out in 15.'

'Back up. What the hell are you saying? This doesn't make any sense.'

'Makes all the sense. I don't have training tomorrow and you have an off tomorrow. We'll come back early on Wed morning. 2 nights in Corsica. Resort is booked and the flight time is 1.5 hours. I researched, dove. Planned to the T. Now stop wasting time & get here.'

Ananya couldn't register anything he was saying. Freaking out hard at the idea of taking a holiday together with his mum. Sure they had stayed together at his Madrid house many times and she had even visited the family in theri Birmingham home during the summer and she had a good relationship with Denise.

But a holiday with your boyfriend's mum was a big step.

Of all the reasons she had to freak out, she chose the silliest one to voice out loud.

'I don't have any clothes for Corsica.'

'You'd be with me. Why do you need clothes?'

'JUDE.'

'Relax, she's not with me right now. On the phone with dad. Complaining I've gone mad. Her exact words - come get your son he's driving me crazy.'

'I'm with her on this.'

'Did you find the car yet?'

'Yes but Jude..'

'Dove I need this. Can't be here right now. Can't even be in this city. Need an escape. Need you guys. Please?'

There was no way on Mother Earth she could have said no to that voice and those words.

'Ok.'

The plane took off exactly 10 mins later. Ananya insisted on wearing a mask while boarding - the relationship was not public and if there was any chance she was seen with him (Jude insisted it won't happen coz private terminal) then at least they won't get her face.

'Why Corsica?'

'Remote. Pretty. Haven't been there. And you said it's on your list right?'

She had seen the place in a movie and told him about it. Months ago.

'Yeah. But...'

'You shouldn't be the one having to plan all this right now. We should be taking care of you.'

'You are. By being with me right now.'

He leaned down & kissed her, something she was still getting used to in the presence of his family. It had taken Jude some time to understand that PDA worked differently where she came from, and both had gravitated to a midway here.

They landed soon, on a private airstrip of a luxury resort.

Ofcourse.

Ananya didn't even dare to think how much a place like this would have costed. Coz it was luxury personified. Grand sea-facing villas. Normally, she would have told Jude this was too much. But now was not the time. The boy had the right to do whatever he wanted right now.

Instead, she focused on the clear blue waters in sight. And wondered if the place would have a shop to buy at least something appropriate.

The staff walked them to their villa. While Ananya admired the white marbles and fancy chandeliers all around.

'This is us. And that's you, mum.'

Ananya walked in. And kept walking. The place was never ending. Two bed rooms. Three washrooms. Private pool. Sea-facing deck. And a bunch of other rooms she couldn't even understand the purpose of.

'You took 2 villas?'

'Yup.'

'Why? This place can fit a village.'

'Why do you think?'

He said without missing a beat.

'Seriously?'

'I meant what I said about the clothes.'

He said matter of factly, while adding the wifi password to his phone. Leaving his girlfriend gaping at him.

'You can take off that mask now.'

'Oh yeah.'

She had forgotten about that. So lost in this place, and in him.

When his brows furrowed while gaping through his phone, Ananya interved.

'Gimme that.'

'What?'

'No phones while we are here. Let's try that?'

That didn't seem like a bad idea. He did want to forget about the world outside, atleast briefly.

'What should we do then?'

'Lets watch a movie? Ask Denise if she'd be up for it.'

'Naah she's cranky. I literally dragged her out of bed mid-nap. Not knocking on her door now she'll be mad.'

'Cool then we can watch something. On the deck maybe? Sea breeze would be nice.'

'Or we could do some other things. On the deck also if you want.'

She just shook her head at him in exasperation, and he knew it meant a no. But he also knew a no was only for now. She won't keep him waiting for long, not when she wanted to make him feel better.

Honestly, he just did it to get a reaction from her, something he enjoyed a fair bit.

Not having the constant buzz of the phone next to him helped a ton. As did the soothing air. The serenity seeping into his pores.

They watched a random rom-com, with Jude's running commentary on how cheesy it was.

'Please, have you seen you? You are cheesier.'

'Take that back.'

'Nope.'

'Name one cheesy thing I do.'

'Kissing me through the phone?'

'That's not cheesy.'

'Yeah sure.'

The bickering went on, as the movie kept playing in the background.

Denise sent her a quick 'how's he doing?' and she responded with an 'ok.'

After the movie, they did do a few other things he wanted. Not on the deck though, no way she was going to allow that.

It was time for dinner. The resort had set up a table sea-side for them.

'I literally have nothing to wear Jude.'

'Wear my jersey. I have it somehwhere.'

'What a great idea to not draw attention.'

But wearing one of his oversized shirts was the only option. With her jeans.

How badly she hoped she had a dress with her right now. Especially in a fancy ass place like this.

But the shirt, which made her look like a homeless person, will have to suffice. She tucked it in, doing the best she could.

'Don't tell me you're gonna wear a mask here as well.'

'On the way, yes. On the table, it's already dark at the beach.'

He raised his hand in surrender, knowing she'll do what she wanted.

They reached the table and Denise was wearing a supremely elegant dress. And Ananya wanted to jump in the deep waters.

She glared at Jude sideways, and he avoided it pointedly, starting a random conversation with his mum.

Jobe face-timed shortly, and Jude took the phone to show the scenery to Jobe. Denise watched them from a distance, content.

'How was he last 2 days?'

'Oh bad. Very rarely have I seen him like this.'

Ananya hummed.

'But he looks better now. Your being here helped.'

Jude had learnt the matter-of-fact mode of speaking from his mother. He was a carbon copy in this department, and in many other departments.

The said boy returned to the table then, giggling at something Mark was yelling in the background. About Jobe not finishing his dinner.

'I'm 19 dad. 19.'

'19 year old boys don't need to eat anymore.'

'Jobe - why aren't you eating?'

Denise chimed in and Jobe looked distraught.

'You guys - seriously?'

'They're right. You shouldn't skip meals, not on a school night.'

Jude added with a straight face

'Shut up, loser.'

'You're a loser.'

'Ananya - if you love me, you'd make him sleep on the floor tonight.'

She was happily sipping on wine, which she choked on when she heard her name in the middle of the family conversation. And in the context with which Jobe said it.

Her mouth opened and closed like a fish, unable to string words together, but Jude stepped in to help.

'Who said she loves you?'

That did not help.

'Ananya - tell him you love me.'

'Ummm...'

'Alright stop it boys. Jobe - you have training tomorrow. Go to bed now.'

The ever disciplined Denise made her presence known.

'Gosh you guys. I'm 19. NINETEEN.'

'Still a teen.'

'I hate you, bro.'

'Right back at you, bro.'

They hung up shortly after, with another firm nudge from Denise.

When they were wrapping up, Denise took Ananya to the side.

'He hasn't slept in two days.'

'Yeah I figured.'

'Should we give him something?'

'No I think today maybe different. Let me try. Otherwise lets do that tomorrow.'

'Yeah ok. Just....can you check....'

'I'm on it, Denise.'

She smiled reassuringly at the worried mum. And the mum smiled back.

After the usual activities that night in bed, Ananya sighed softly as she was half-laid over Jude's chest. The shirt from earlier laid crumpled over the floor.

'Told you clothes are not a problem.'

'Oh shushhh.'

The sound of his giggle gave her such joy.

'Can I ask you something?'

'Ofcourse.'

'How are you? Truly?'

'Babe...'

'Please? It's important to talk, Jude.'

He was quiet for 2 minutes.

'Hasn't fully sunk in yet. Either thing.'

'I get it.'

'Makes me question a few things.'

'Like?'

'Like how good I am?'

Jude did not like such vulnerability. But the words just started flowing when he was with her.

'You don't need the validation of THOSE people to know how good you are.'

'What about my people?'

'Like?'

'Club. Coach. Squad.'

'Sweetheart - they know more than your family & friends. They are the ones who put you on this pedestal last year.'

'Am I still there though, on that pedestal?'

'What do you feel?'

'Things have changed.'

'For the better or for the worse?'

'A bit of both sometimes. Don't know how to explain.'

'No I get it.'

'Hmm.'

'And I think you should talk to him. He loves you, you know that.'

It didn't need to be said that they were talking about Carlo.

'It can get messy if I do that.'

'Do it nicely. It'd get messier if you don't. Jude, if your head is not in the right place, you think we have a real shot at winning everything?'

'Am I talking to my girlfriend or a Madridista?'

'Both. And both are telling you the same thing. So listen to both.'

'You know I'm not great at these conversations.'

'That's crazy. You're great at addressing things head on. Just do that.'

'Mum said the same thing.'

'See? I knew it.'

'You're so like her sometimes.'

'Like how?'

'Like how smart you are. How correct.'

'Yeah - well - I'm smart can't help it.'

She giggled and he pulled her up for a sloppy, messy kiss.

'Tell me it'll get better.'

'It's you. You will not rest till it gets better. You will turn the world upside down to make it better. And well, it's Real Madrid. No one can keep us down for long.'

'You really should work at the club you know. They'd love you.'

'My dream job. But my current one pays a lot more.'

'Hmmmm.'

As she laid wrapped in his arms, Jude felt a sense of contentment that had evaded him last 2 days. He thought his world was crumbling down, while his world was right there in his arms. And next door. And in Sunderland. And in Birmingham. The pieces of his heart were around him to make him whole again. Ultimately, that's what mattered. This was the most important thing. And he will turn the world upside down till he gets to the very top of it, again. Which was his rightful place anyway.

............................................................................

Written in 2 hours. Not edited at all.

Just me talking to myself, anything to distract from this mess.

Hope you like it.

[katiascraft]

"Is this the start of something new?" |LN4

Part 2: Made in Argetina: The Series. (Lando's Version)

Parings: Lando Norris x Argentine!Reader.

Summary: after the austin gp, lando and you have your "first date".

Word count: +2k.

Warnings: none. Just fluff. Not a native english speaker so there could be (so many) errors. (I do what i can). Not proofread.

Author's note: finally here it is! Hope you like it i accept more suggestions and contructive critics! Dont forget to like or reblog! And follow me so we can be friends :3 (and drink mate together!)

MASTERLIST

Watching the podium was a dream of yours and now you have made it come true. You heard the anthems for the first time in person. All of the tifosis screaming it out. Charles smiled so proud along with Carlos and Max. You were really intrigued by Max’s character and you hope someday you could meet him. That was another dream of yours. Like Franco said: a tiny human filled with so many crazy dreams. Yeah, he joked about it all the time because you have this dreamy personality but he loves you for that. His so logical and terrenal, he loves that you add the daydreaming he most of the time lacks. That’s why your besties, you understand anc complement each other.

When the podium party ended and people started to spread out into different directions, you decided to call Franco to see where he was at. But he didn’t respond. You felt now again embarrassed like when you bumped into Lando fucking the most handsome cute and hot persona you’ve ever seen Norris and born his phone. You felt so stupid. You forgot your friend is now a driver here and probably doesn’t have time to answer your checking calls. So you decided to get back to the paddock and headed to Williams garage. You didn’t wanna be lost so you concentrated on finding your franquito. Fortunately some guys from the team told you he was at a meeting so you decided to look for Lily.

You found her at a table with another girl and didn’t want to interrupt but you also didn’t want to be alone.

“Hey… hi. Sorry to interrupt girls. I was lost for a moment I’m happy to find you Lily” you said shyly and clearly sorry for making the two beautiful women stop talking.

“Y/n! Oh no, there’s no problem honey. I was telling Alexa about you. So perfect timing!” She said sweet and made you smile widely. She introduced you to Alex, Charles Leclerc’s girlfriend. She was so stunning in person. And also really sweet. Lily made you part of their conversation and your stayed with them until Franco was free to get back to the hotel.

Lando was on a meeting with the team he really didn’t want to be in. He wasn’t in the mood to listen to all of that right now. Oscar knew about it and tried to pay attention so at least one of them had the important information and the big men knew. Lando couldn’t stop thinking about you smile and your rosé cheeks. And what you said to him. He also was anxious about the fact you’d never replied. Nor add him to contacts. He wanted to see your profile picture. He wanted to talk to you right now but he had to be here doing driver things. He never tends to be distracted. But he couldn’t help it. You were too gorgeous to not overthink about the whole interaction you had.

When the meeting ended Lando and Oscar went to the mc claren building to get change and eat something before heading to the hotel and rest. They didn’t want to do much. It was a frustrating race and weren't in the mood to go celebrate like some of the boys will do. Maybe he’ll watch Cars and fall asleep before it finishes. It was his comfort plan to be honest.

You and the girls order something to eat at the Williams building. You couldn’t stop thinking about the fact you broke Lando’s phone and that you could have stayed with him. You didn’t know why you felt like that. Like you did something wrong and added to the phone breaking. You started playing around with your phone once Lily and Alex started talking about things you really didn’t understand. But the only thing you learnt is that Alex lives in Monaco and there people speak French and you didn’t know about that. That’s when you see his messages. You blushed by reading them. You got so nervous. Lando was flirting with you that was obvious but you couldn’t believe he was flirting with you like why? Out of all the girls that come to see races, why you? You bit your lip replying.

‘Oh hola pretty boy. Sorry I didn’t see it till now. And sorry again for breaking your phone. Funny both phones still work somehow jaja’

You didn’t know how to approach and English man. Of course you flirted with guys before but you know, with the same culture and slang and social context. This is so different. You didn’t want to come off as rude or whatever.

‘How brave you are to give your heart to unknown person 👀’

You didn’t know if that was actually considered a tease but you were trying at least.

You jumped scared when Franco out of nowhere hugged you from behind almost screaming in your head.

“Al fin te encuentro amiguita. En qué andas? Cambiándome por gente linda y famosa?” (He said hi and what you were doing “charging me for more pretty and richer people?”) that made you laugh and roll your eyes.

“Ojalá. Lamentablemente me tocó ser tu amiga y no puedo salir” you joked about how unfortunately you were his friend and you couldn’t run away. That made him room his eyes. He joined the conversation and met Alex as well. You talked for a few more minutes till Alex Albon came back and so we started going down the stairs all together. Alex headed to the Ferrari building and another girl said bye to Lily and Alex. She said it was Carlos’ girlfriend Rebecca. All of them were so beautiful. You were in love.

You and Franco were chatting about what the meeting was all about when you heard someone scream from afar.

“Wait guys! Franco! Alex! Y/n!” When you all turned you found lando coming to you. Franco looked at you with one brow raised, strange about how Lando knew his best friend’s name. “Sorry guys, I just wanted to say goodbye. We’re not gonna see each other until Mexico” he said weirdly and nervously . That wasn’t the usual Franco thought. He looked at Alex who looked at him the same. Lily looked at you with question marks on her eyes. You smiled at Lando. Your heart is racing. He gave everyone a hug. And you were last. You didn’t know what to do in this situation. You didn’t understand what he was doing. When he hugged you a paper fell on the floor. So when you two splitted he picked up the little paper.

“Here you go” he said and handed it to you so you took it suspicious. “Alright bye guys! Take care!” He waved, running again into the orphanage building. You saved the paper on your jeans and played it cool.

“Okay that was weird and nice at the same time” Franco said, making all of you giggle.

(…)

After leaving Franco at his room and spending some time with him just chatting and drinking mate, you decided to come to your room to rest as well. All of the feelings you felt have left you exhausted. You were so happy for franco. So proud. You could feel your heart explode.

You had a shower. You needed to take out all of the weight of the day from your body. Relax for a while. By yourself listening to a piano playlist you found on Spotify. Dark academia theme. You loved it. After a few minutes you were packing and preparing all of your stuff because tomorrow you headed to Mexico. You were gonna be with franco until the Brazil race. And then going back home to Argentina.

When you grabbed your jeans, the ones you wore today, you remembered the paper piece lando handed to you. You know it wasn’t yours but your intuition just followed along with his play. You unfolded it and smiled.

‘Wanna chill out and watch cars for a while?’

That’s what the paper said and under the question was his hotel and room number. He didn’t answer your messages. And you thought this was like the most romantic thing. Like not using phones and sneaking into hotels. And keeping it a secret. Like a wattpad story you used to read when you were a kid about Niall Horan. Or maybe are you just crazy? Whatever.

You hesitated whether to go or not by the time it was. But you had nothing to lose. He offered and maybe this one gonna be it. Maybe you wouldn’t meet Lando Norris like this or any other way ever again so.

You decided to take some candies you had in your bag and that was it. You felt really bad about not having anything else to take. Google maps indicated his hotel was the one next to the one you were so that was a coincidence that wasn’t in your bung card. You didn’t think much about it and just went straight to his room.

When you got to it you knocked on the door carefully. If he was asleep you didn’t want to wake him up.

Fortunately a few seconds later we opened the door with a sleepy smile and very surprised.

“I thought you wouldn’t come” he said letting you in. You giggled a little.

“Surprise! I’m not losing my chances here honey” you said teasing him and saw how he blushed closing the door.

“Is that a thing in Argentina like beating hot and a teaser?” He asked me to open his mini bar, take out two water bottles and hand one to you with a smile.

“Well I think it is, you know. We are all pretty charming” you said, taking the water and string in his bed. You saw the tv screen displaying the cars movie already in the middle of the story. You acted offended.

“So you invited me to watch cars but decided to watch it all alone?” You said arching a brow funny. He looked exposed and stood in front of the tv.

“Actually that was a trap because no one says no to cars cause it’s a great movie but I invited you to look at me” he said posing awkwardly making you giggle.

“Alright I’ll enjoy the view then” you said grinning.

You just enjoyed time together by chatting about Argentina and London and a few words. And trivial stuff but you laughed so much. He is so funny and laughed at all of your jokes. Like you matched each other’s energy. Or crazy.

It was time for you to go back to your hotel because it was already 2 am and packing wasn’t done. Neither you nor Lando had packed everything for tomorrow's flight.

“Would I see you around then? It was really nice talking to you” he said on the door looking down at you with sleepy puppies eyes. You were so cute and fun. He felt the butterflies. You made him so nervous. Giggling and blushing like a teenager. You smiled at him. You were the most precious thing he has ever seen.

You nodded “of course. I’ll be with Franco until the Brazil race. That’s when I go back to Argentina sadly. But maybe I’ll travel again for Abu Dhabi” you said softly, looking at him. God he was so beautiful. He nodded in response.

Silence took place between you two for a few seconds. You decided to end it by giving him a kiss on his cheek. “See you around landito, te me cuidas chico lindo” you said just like how you taught him earlier a little funny and waved at him heading to the elevator. He waved at you. His face red.

Was this the start of something new?

(…)

‘You looked beautiful in that orange hoodie you wore today’ he texted.

‘You only say that it’s because it’s papaya. Do you want me to be a papaya? You’ll have to work your ass off. I’m team Williams until franco gets a seat in another team’ you texted.

‘I’m on it darling. Get ready’ he texted.

‘Oh I’ve been ready my whole life for this moment’ you texted.

‘😍😍😍😍’ he texted.

‘👀👀👀👀’ you texted.

——————————————————————————————

Hope you liked it 💌 my inbox is open if you have any idea! Send your requests!

[hereforthehitsbaby]

Silver Lining | Worst!Logan Howlett x F!Reader

Synopsis: Logan was too familiar with depressive episodes, spending years stuck in his own. He never wanted you to feel the way he did, he wanted to take your pain away. 

Warnings: ANGST, like no joke this is just straight up angst/whump with a somewhat happy ending, not character angst but reader angst – or at least that is what I think it would classify as?, mentions of mania, mentions of mental illness, reader screams at everyone and tries hard to make people hate her because she thinks she deserves it, mentions of depression, reader has a depressive episode, crying, self-doubt, mentions of unavailing oneself, language,

Rating: M

Word Count: 3.9K

Author’s Note: You know, at times when there are things you cannot tell anyone about, you write. This happened to be that moment for me. Also I know I said this was going to be angsty but I don't think I did the angst justice enough. I'm not used to writing it so I apologize if it's not full blown whump.

Tagging(?): @battermyheart @plagued-kitty @cxrrodedcoffin @babygorewhore @strangererotica

Hugh Jackman Taglist Sign Up

“I fucking hate you, leave me alone!” You scream at your apartment door, hearing Wade on the other end banging harder. You didn’t mean any of the words, you wanted to take them all back, you wanted to say you’re sorry and move on. Your hands reach out to tangle in your hair, pulling roughly at the root. Growls of agony and pain tear from your throat as you drop to your knees on the plush carpet, rocking back and forth. “Let me go, please let me go!” None of your words made sense, they felt foreign on your tongue as the pounding got louder, as the screams turned sour. The world faded to black as your head hit the carpet, your throat raw – straining against your sorrows. Footsteps echoed like snow on a winter’s night; The silence was not comforting. Bloodied fists fell beside your face, and Laura’s soft words lulled you to sleep. “We will be here when you’re ready. Please, take care of yourself.”

No one expected that a day full of laughing and bonding would take a hard left turn. No one knew what hid beneath your surface, they never realized how bad it was getting. All they saw was smiles and sunshine radiating off of you, never knowing they were caused by pain. You thought you were getting better, that you weren’t faking it this time – unfortunately your brain never got the memo. None of your words held any meaning; You knew that but you were worried your friends might not. Then again, day one you did tell Wade to not get attached – that was for his own sake when one day you were no longer here. It was an unspoken song in your head – it never rang true but certain times felt like it would, that it may.

Peter’s party was supposed to be fun, celebrating his anniversary of a year with B-15. A full day planned by Wade and Laura. Logan and you were made to keep them both busy for a while, while Al complained about the constant smell of latex balloons. A day you had been looking forward to for weeks; Spending time with Logan while also not feeling pressured into anything. Wade’s constant comments about you two shacking up held some tension between the two of you, sometimes making it awkward to even say hi to him. But this was supposed to be a turning point for the best, the manic episodes a thing of the past. You were finally healing, so you thought. Alas nothing stays the same forever; A little chaos thrown into a beautiful painting can sometimes turn the colors muddy.

Thirteen days it has been since you left your apartment, almost a full two weeks since you spoke to anyone. Text messages gone unanswered, calls gone silent. Knocks at the door becoming few and far in between as the days grew longer. The care packages dwindling down to one every other day than ever four hours. They did care, it wasn’t a bullshit excuse your mind made up, deep down you fucking knew and yet? It didn’t feel right. It was foreign of a concept; A group of people looking out for you because they care. You had been in with every wrong group possible that it ruined any singular chance of trusting their actions. Happy endings were not in your card, so you had convinced yourself. Episodes like this became your only friend, constantly reliving the worst moments over and over until you couldn’t cry anymore. The utter pain on Wade’s face as he cried for you, as Laura tried to help you, as Al reassured you, as Logan held you, were too much to constantly see. The distance was necessary. But never, never would they give up on you.

Over the last two weeks Wade has come by and sat outside your door, recounting missions and how they went to reading the newest Booktok craze in graphic detail, never spearing a moment to see if he could hear you laugh. Instead all he heard was sobs, self-hatred, and pain. It gave you the time to process your rage, to understand it cannot be pointed towards others who were only trying to help, to figure out a way to explain how sorry you are. But you never needed to, because Logan did – and they made sure they let you know. Out of everyone, Logan was rooting for you the most. Looking out for you, making sure no one came to disturb you when he heard your wails of sorrow, letting you feel rather than cause any discomfort. It killed him silently to hear you like this, not to be able to hold you through it, he wanted to do so much more.

Every text that you stomached to read from Logan was always reassuring, never condescending or jokey. Between small quotes he heard over his life of resilience to funny memes he stole from Wade, he was your cheerleader in every way. It helped you to know, even if you didn’t respond. It gave you the confidence to finally get up and take a deep breath, to understand what you were going to say. That was your plan for today and nothing was going to stop you. As soon as you realized in the early afternoon, you spent the rest of the time cleaning up your apartment, taking a shower, and getting your best comfy clothes on to have a sit down chat with everyone. It felt like everything was going to be okay – you felt like you had control over your emotions; This time it would be easy to convey what sparked your episode. Taking a deep breath you opened your apartment door as walked across the hall to Wade’s, keeping your hand steady as you knocked.

The controlled, hard thuds rang through your wrist as you heard a groan come from the other side, inaudible mumbles coming from Althea. A small smirk played across your lips as you heard her rambles, knowing how feisty the older woman is. The door to Wade’s apartment opened quickly as she stood facing you. Seeing Al after a few weeks of going MIA made your throat dry up, only hearing her words of reassurance as you had a breakdown. Instead of speaking you stared at the woman, fingers slightly trembling. Al let out a sad breath, her shoulders slumping slightly. ‘Oh honey, come on in.” How she knew that it was you wasn’t even a question in your mind, just her gentle nature of feeling you made your eyes misty. Al left a decent gap between her and the door as you crossed over the threshold, staring into the comfortable space.

You could tell that Wade and Laura weren’t around, considering how the pull-out mattress wasn’t out still and Wade’s door was wide open. But you knew he was here. As Al closed the door behind the two of you, the third door of the right opened quickly, the wood creaking against the hinges. Standing in the doorway with warm eyes and a stoic stance was Logan, staring at you like he was in disbelief. He didn’t move, he didn’t blink, instead he kept his eyes on your face. Your hair was tucked behind your ears and away from your features; Logan’s eyes trailed over each part with a soft smile on his lips, relief coursing through his veins. “How are you doing?” he asked calmly, not moving a muscle as he gauged your response. The tranquil state you were previously in started to crumble at those four words, your eyes growing tight and blurry as you stared into Logan’s hazel eyes. Your fingers began to shake as your heart raced, a sob threatening to tear from your throat without warning. All you could do was shake your head at Logan’s question, blinking your tears away. Without a thought, you moved fast into Logan as you wrapped your arms around him, pressing your face into his flannel. Everything you had been holding onto for two weeks was already coming out; The dame officially breaking as he held you. “I got you, sshh – you’re okay,” Logan responded as he rubbed your back, tightening his hold on you as you cried.

Logan slowly shuffled you backwards into his bedroom, letting the heavy door shut on its own as he held you the entire way. Due to how lost you were in his sweet embrace, you didn’t realize that you were now in Logan’s room or better yet, laying with him on his bed. Positioning you to face him, Logan never let you go as he pulled you close to him, letting your face press into his neck as he pulled the comforter over the two of you. Short, sweet hums left his lips as he rested his cheek against the top of your head, letting your subconsciously link his thick legs with yours. “I’m proud of you for coming over, you know that?” Those words warmed your chest as you felt your body shiver, the praise meaning everything to you. Pushing your face deeper against the crook of Logan’s neck, you belted out a wail as you gripped his shirt, just knowing it was starting to soak with the runoff of your tears. You shook your head against his chest, slightly digging your nails through his shirt.

Over the last year you watched Logan transform from gruff and rugged emotionally to happy and prideful. Though that hardened shell of his would never leave, he seemed to be a lot lighter mentally. After he became the new anchor being, new resident of Earth-10005, and the new friend of Wade, which all still was confusing to your human brain, he realized that life was so much more than reliving your past – and learning to move forward from it. It was a slow journey for him but, he found solace in the understanding and knowing. Which is why he didn’t hesitate to grab you and pull you close, knowing this only mirrored what you did for him all those months ago. Being on the receiving end of it felt bizarre for you, but it felt like home. You didn’t want to believe it, but it was true. “You shouldn’t,” a low whispered escaped through your sob as Logan trailed his fingers over your back, drawing small shapes against your hoodie.

“But I am, it’s a big first step.” It was true in a way, the first step was always the acknowledgement. Just leaving your apartment was a great first attempt, and now you were really making strides. “We love you so much, I love you, sweetheart.” Hearing Logan say that caused your heart to clench; The game of cat and mouse of feelings you two have been ping-ponging over the last year reached its peak quickly during this whole time, realizing you two were in silent cahoots – there never needed to be a talk about labels when it happened to naturally. Neither one of you would admit it but, you were together way before any of this went down. Swallowing down the smartass retort wanting to slip off your tongue, you sank your nails a bit deeper into his shirt, feeling his hiss come out. “Don’t say shit you don’t mean, Lo. Do you know how to love?”

You hated yourself for those words, knowing you didn’t mean it but let it go anyways. A typical defense tactic to push people away. Logan knew it too which is why he never responded, only snickered at your persistence. He knew exactly how you would react, knowing from your past conversations about your previous episodes. Running his beard across the side of your cheek, Logan nodded against your face as he spoke, “I love Wade. I love Laura. I love Al. And most importantly, I love you.” Hearing him say again that he loved you should’ve been one of the happiest moments, knowing you both were making great strides in your relationship, yet it left a burning hole of lies in your chest. You scoff at Logan’s declaration, a fresh wave of warm tears cascading down your cheeks as you push your face further into his burly chest. You tried so hard to mask your cry with a cough but, Logan knew better. The words holding their true meaning, the truth snaking its way through your brain. Shaking your head against his pecs, you inhale a deeply, smelling his shower gel and natural musk flooding your nose. “You don’t love me, you barely know me.”

Logan smiles softly above you, trying not to roll his eyes at your clear avoidance of the talk you were about to have. He found your stubbornness endearing, seeing a bit of himself within you. He was the same way after all, never acknowledging or wanting to accept but always question, always avoid. Hiding and not accepting the truth was easier than healing at times. Logan placed his lips to the top of your head as he kisses it gently, rubbing his large hand up and down your back. He never let his lips pull back your head as you let out his words, wanting the warmth of his breath to sink in, hoping that would help you to understand the truth over the lies your mind was telling. “Then give me a chance to.” It slipped out between his lips so naturally you had no time to adjust, hitting you like a ton of bricks.

You stop in the moment; Your breathing, your crying, your whole body. Logan’s words sank deep within your soul, causing a bloom of emotion to burst within your chest. The truth was burning your nerves one by one, every fiber alight and refusing to be put out with your self-doubt. Every stage of grief you could possibly feel ran through your with cold fingers, awakening you for what felt like centuries. Trembling hands grip tighter at his flannel tighter, pulling him close and pushing him away at the same time. Your brows furrow as you scan the darkness within, trying to find a reason why he shouldn’t. All you could find was positive after positive with Logan, remembering how he tried to do the same to you and you refused to give up on him. Now it was your turn, but stepping into the unknown scared you more than anything else. Opening yourself up to him, was terrifying. “Don’t push me away, please.” Logan whispered into your hairline, feeling his own soul hurt for you. 

“That’s all I know how to do.” It wasn’t a lie persay, but it wasn’t the whole truth. You never pushed away the gang, not ever. Anytime you were mildly upset you made sure to be with them, and they stayed with you through it all. Even the times you got annoyed with them, you never gave up on that friendship. You knew deep down you’d never push them away, in fact it was funny to you how you even thought that. As Wade had one said, we are like herpes – we never leave, sweet cheeks. “Let me help you break that cycle.” You wanted to believe Logan, trust his words and actions of the man you love. But it was fear inducing to do so, because every what if made its way out of the wood works, chiming in their two cents. What if he leaves you? What if he moves on? What if he is saying this just to make you happy? What if he doesn’t mean it? What if he just feels sorry for you?

The offer to help you break the cycle was what set you off, tearing yourself away from Logan. Sitting up roughly on his bed, you bunched the comforter down at your hips, placing your head in your hands. The fresh wave of tears was threatening to spill over as you shook your head, your knees trembling with every inhale. “What if it can’t be broken, Logan?” You pan your eyes up at him, your bottom lip quivering. “What if that’s all I’m ever going to be destined for? Healing others while I hurt myself. I don’t know if I can be fixed, or changed or-“ Logan abruptly stopped your spiel as he reached for you, holding your face within his hands. The gentle flecks of golds and emeralds swimming in his irises caused your heart to flutter, his natural beauty causing your cheeks to warm. He stared at you like a man in love, needing you to know just how precious you are.

“I said the same thing about myself, for fucking years. I refused to believe I could be happy, in a better place mentally, I didn’t want to be happy. I wanted to hurt, knowing what I did to cause pain to others. I believed I deserved it. Not a day goes by where I sometimes slip into my old routine. But I remember that people do appreciate me, they do love me - even if I don’t want to believe it.” You noticed how Logan wasn’t aware he was crying with you, his tears slowly falling from the inner corner of his eyes as he spoke. The hold he had on your face growing harder, not in a painful way but in a comforting one. Every word he spoke he wanted to sink in, to show you if it wasn’t the end for him – it wasn’t for you either. “But-“ you chimed, trying to find a reasoning but coming up short. “No buts, just feel. What do you want, sweetheart?”

The question held a lot of meaning, a lot of endless possibilities that you weren’t able to explore in your lifetime. For the first time in so long, you felt like you finally had a choice over your own decisions, not your mental health. The way you stared at Logan, with admiration and hesitance caused his heart rate to speed up, his palms growing clammy at what you may say. He could smell your fear, hear your heart pumping at an abnormal rate. Placing his wide palm against your calf, he rubbed over your leggings with languid strokes, helping to coax your answer out. The feelings finally setting in, everything hitting its peak, knowing you were not going to be hitting rock bottom again. “I want to be happy.” It didn’t sound real coming from your mouth, foreign against your tongue as Logan painted his face with a slow smile, admiring your strength and truth to wanting to be happy, instead of staying in that darkened space.

“Louder, darlin.” Logan coaxed with a gentle smile, pressing his lips to your temple as he took a deep inhale. He liked to believe that was his way of ridding you of this pain, inhaling it so he could hold onto it – so you could feel at peace. A small grin made its way upon your lips as you closed your eyes, sinking into his touch deeper. His arms came to hold you against his chest, peppering kisses along the left side of your face as you exhaled. “I want to be happy, Logan.” This time it felt real, felt right coming from you. Your tears dried up quickly, the sticky residue still on your cheeks as you started to get back on your metaphorical feet. His kisses caused your stomach to burn with love and passion. Grabbing at his right hand, you pulled it to your lips as you kissed over where his claws would come out, showing him how even something so deadly deserves care.

“Give yourself permission to.” Logan smiles genuinely as he cups your cheek, running the pad of his thumb over your skin. Reveling in his touch was the only thing you could do, watching him with hearts in your eyes as you smiled. Having someone like Logan be so patient with you, caring for you like no one before has, made you feel safe. It made you feel like things were really going to get better, and now they were. He was right, you needed to give yourself over to your own happiness, and welcome it in. It was a scary thing to adjust to but, you deserved it. The torment you had been putting yourself through, dealing with crisis after crisis and believing every mean word to be true, you deserved this much needed break and acceptance. Logan pressed his forehead against yours as he closed his eyes, wanting you to take in every word deep within your soul. “I’ll be with you, every step of the way. I won’t give up on you.” 

That was all you needed for the tears to start again, this time though – they were different. They were sweet this time around, not sour and hateful like earlier. This time they were cool to the touch, not scalding hot. Hearing the love of your life say that, meant the world was healing. You were silently giving yourself over to Logan fully, letting him help you instead of shutting him out. Welcoming him in during your time of need was what the world gave you, and you were never going to take it for granted. Sighing out into his touch, you sniffed back a few tears as you cleared your throat, knowing another cry would slip out sooner. “No one’s ever told me that.”

It broke Logan’s heart to hear that, knowing people gave up on you too easily during your time of need. He couldn’t bear the thought of you alone in the world, dealing with the demons on your own; He needed you to know he would make sure you never fell down that path again. Leaning into you, Logan pressed his plush lips against yours, letting the slow hum of the central air drown out the loud voices in his mind. Just like that the world stood still, in this moment it was just you and Logan – no one else, no other thing. Time stopped to let you both take this all in, to realize two souls were converging into one, and the path ahead was twisting together for the two of you. The soft nature of the kiss felt like it could heal all of your wounds, and deep down you believed that it did. Logan was stitching together every slice in your being, healing those jagged scars, stitching your soul into one again. “Good thing I’m not no one,” Logan smiled against your lips, stealing a few sweet kisses as he nudging his nose to yours, making you look up at him. “I’m someone to you.”

[yanderefarm]

yandere crime lord introduction

cw;; torture, violence, yandere things, nsft

he's finally here. please feast your eyes on him. pretty boy. im amazed at how the three of them really do look like brothers. i was having a really hard time with his hair when i finally to give him curly hair like his brother and its such a good choice. ajax has some curl to his hair too so they all look related.

achilles is the eldest brother of ares and ajax. he's 35 years old.

he has a nicotine addiction and he goes through a pack a week. quitting is more stressful than it's worth so he hasn't tried.

he stays in touch with his brothers. ares more so because ares calls him to hide bodies frequently.

he isn't head of the family yet, he works right under his father and he has a lot of the same power and responsibilities.

he hates violence and as a young boy he was even more soft spoken and didn't want to hurt anyone. now he has no choice and that adds to his stress.

his whole life he's been compared to ares because he's so much softer than his more aggressive brother. this caused him to really develop a complex where he's always thinking about how much better ares would be at everything he tries and then he starts to stress that people will realize that he's just faking being tough and masculine.

he's known since he was young that he likes men but he doesn't want to risk anymore more evidence against him.

he doesn't have time for relationships or a personal life. his routine is basically work, stress, eat, sleep.

this only changes when he's with you. suddenly he doesn't have to stop and remember to eat. he doesn't have to hurt anyone or be threatening. there's no fear of being exposed with you.

his routine with you is torture, eat, get taken care of, sleep.

at first it was horrible, of course it would be. he spent every day just praying he survived. but one day you weren't torturing him, instead you just let him sit in the same room as you.

for the first time he didn't have to be scared or worry about survival and he was certain all his stress would come back to him. but he realized there was no point in stressing; you would kill him sooner rather than later so he could just comfortably be himself.

he started to get closer to you then forming some kind of strange domesticity. he even found himself enjoying the pain, the horrible pain you would inflict would empty his mind of everything but you.

and then you would patch and clean his wounds so gently. you would always tell him when it was about to sting like you hadn't been putting out cigarettes on his chest an hour ago.

he fell in love with you in the 2 and a half months he spent as your captive. it was nice to love someone so deeply before he died.

and then you told him he could leave. he was confused, upset, confused why he was upset. he wondered if maybe you had found out that your victim had developed a sick affection for you and you were so disgusted with him.

he never understood his younger brother's feelings and possessiveness towards everything. he didn't understand how his brother could claim to love something so deeply that he feels compelled to break it. but when you told him he could go he suddenly understood everything.

it was like something in his mind finally clicked into place and he knew he couldn't let you throw him away. he knew he didn't have any power over you but if he could find something you wanted he could force you to let him stay.

he eventually becomes a pay pig for you. he knows that you're willing to do extreme things for money but he usually just pays to go on dates or for kisses.

he calls you a lot whenever work becomes overwhelming. if you don't answer the phone he'll light up a cigarette instead.

everyone thinks he has a girlfriend and he's some dominant guy who's suddenly whipped for a pretty little girl. they don't know he's the wife.

he loves mascot characters. he really loves cute or ugly cute things. he has a cute phone charm he got from ares and it's the only cute thing he allows himself to own. he can use it being his brother's gift as a good excuse to keep it.

ares knows his real personality while ajax still thinks he's a cool stoic older brother

he is very stoic and he can come off pretty intimidating. he'll accidentally glare at people sometimes because he's just lost in thought and worrying about something.

he only smiles when he's with you. whether you're out on a date or he's getting sewn up he'll have a soft little smile on his face.

if you ever tried to abandon him he would use every resource at his disposal to find you. even if he has to be the one to lock you up he won't let you leave.

he's surprisingly clingy in public. he doesn't do much pda but he'll hold your hand the whole time. if anyone looks at you he'll squeeze your hand and pull you a little closer to himself.

surprisingly it actually takes him a little bit to come around to the idea of bringing sex into things. even longer to convince him that he'd probably enjoy sex more if there was a pain aspect.

now he gets turned on as soon as you press that piece of duct tape over his mouth. he's a complete degenerate.

he loves being degraded. nothing is more exciting than when he calls you at work stressed out and you mock his whole crime lord attitude.

never worry about being too mean to him. he will beg you to make him cry.

he got the family sex = love belief. however because of his work with prostitutes he finds love to be cheap. he didn't think he would ever fall in love until his obsession with you formed.

he also inherited the family forced fem kink. he particularly likes to wear frilly lingerie under his suits while at work. he always sends you a picture of his underwear in the morning.

he over hears someone talking about how much they love calling their wife, wife. so he asks you to call him wife once and it immediately gets him hard. he's a blushing mess about it. .

quiet in bed. when hes not screaming in pain. he just gasps and whimpers at your touch.

he has a desperate need to praise you. like a praise kink but on the giving side. he wants to kiss every inch of your skin and tell you how grateful he is for you.

he doesn't say i love you a lot but when he does it's during sex. especially after edging him.

any kinks you want to try on him he is down to do at least once.

[maeedrg]

Satoru, Oh Satoru

Y/n’s goodbye letter

ᯓ★

Synopsis : In which you write and send a letter to your ex fiance, Gojo Satoru, before his deathly battle with Sukuna. Broken promise, he wishes to see you again, the love of his life, one last time before it’s too late. [The letter is the Mary’s goodbye letter to Arthur Morgan from RDR2]

Words count : 2k

Warnings : heavy angst, slight comfort, major character death, spoilers of the end of the manga, reader is called « wife » once.

જ⁀➴ ⠀ׂ Autor’s note : I love Red Dead Redemption 2, and the letter of Mary is haunting me. It’s been weeks since I wanted to write about it, so here we go, with Gojo instead of Arthur Morgan ! English is not my first language, sorry for the mistakes.

“My dear Satoru,

You never showed up, and now, after looking at the newspapers I understand why. I don't imagine you will receive this letter but I nonetheless must send it.

Satoru, oh, Satoru. I was just starting to dream the silliest and softest of dreams. I miss you, and I will always miss you but I cannot live like that, and it seems you cannot live any other way.

When I am with you, the world makes sense but when we are apart, I see clearly that your world is not a world from which one can escape. I am so sorry, for everything, for everything long ago and for leaving you. There's a vulnerable man within you, Satoru, but he is wrestling with a giant. And the giant, wins, time and again. You've broken my heart, again, and I fear I have broken yours.

For that, I will never forgive myself but you must let me go now. I enclose a ring you gave me many years ago, when we were both young, not because I don't like it, but because I care for it far too much and it reminds me too much of you. I hope, one day you will find some people in love who can use this, for it kept me thinking of you all these years, and I hope by returning it to you I can finally be free. So please, win, and come out alive.

Goodbye.

y/n”

Are those water drops ?

Satoru blinks once, twice, before realizing that tears roll down his rosy cheeks and wet down the paper. He slowly opens his mouth in a shuddering breath, knuckles tightening against the letter he was holding in his hands. He is crying, Gojo Satoru is crying. Heavens know that this man almost never cried since the day he was born. But the way his heart was hurting so much, each breath being a stabbing inhale, as if a dag was slicing open his lungs and cutting into pieces his poor sweet damaged heart, confirm it. Yes, he cries. He cries this forgotten moment, he cries you, he cries your love, lost in the nostalgia he feels.

The Strongest, no, Satoru, never thought he would lose the love of his life twice. The first time was when you left him years ago, three more exactly, and God it was his own damn fault. He knows it more than anyone else, more than you.

The second was today, when he opened this letter you sent him and read it 5, 6, 12, 23 times. Hell, at first he thought he was hallucinating when he received it this morning. Why ? Why today ? The day he was supposed to have no single regrets, because he knew it would be the last time he would be on earth. He prayed that you forgot about him, hated him, cursed him in your soul forever, so he could die without your and any regrets.

23rd of December. Tomorrow, it will be the 24th. Please, please, please. He doesn’t want to die now. Will he really win ? That was just a sentence said to reassure himself, to convince his students and his own heart that everything will be alright. But the “what if” came along, and he ended up writing letters to his students in case he would indeed lose tomorrow. Including you. His long lost love. His ex fiance.

But for fuck’s sake, he didn’t expect you to send him one before he could even finish writing yours.

That hurts, so damn much. Was he even breathing anymore ? He didn’t know. But he had to breathe, everyone wanted him to breathe and to stand up. They needed him. Everyone needed him. But all he wanted, in the end, was for you to need him. Even if he told you the contrary years ago. That was all a lie, to you and himself. Satoru made you leave him, but that was for your sake.

Marrying The Strongest meant having a deadly bounty on your head, the end of your peaceful love, and maybe the end of your own life. He never really regretted what he did, he preferred for you to be safe and sound, away from him. Even if he missed your pretty eyes, your oh so sweet lips, the warmth of your soul and the comfort of your arms.

But now, some hours before his last day on earth, he regretted it more than anything. In the end, he would have wanted to spend his last years in your company if it meant having this kind of death. God, he could have called you his wife. He wasn’t dumb, Satoru was far too smart for his own good. Tomorrow will be his last. There was no need to be delusional about it, but it hurts. It hurts so much. More than he wanted it to be. The Strongest never gets hurt, after all. Because he doesn’t allow it to happen.

He kisses the ring, the engagement ring, he gave you years ago before you returned it to him in this letter. He slowly closes his watery eyes, biting the inside of his mouth, lost in thoughts. He wanted to feel your lips against his one last time. He wanted to be in your arms one last time. He wanted to hear your name coming out of your mouth one last time. He just wanted to see you, before his battle against Sukuna. Was he egoistical to want that, after everything that happened in between the two of you, after the letter you sent ?

“I just… don’t care anymore,” he muttered, standing back up and softly sliding your letter against his still beating heart.

Seeing you was his last wish. May it be granted.

Some minutes after, barely 20, he was in front of your door. It was an unholy hour to grant you a visit, the clock ticking 11.58 PM. In two minutes it would be his official last hours on earth, Christmas Day. If Santa Claus was real, then you were the biggest gift he could ask for.

The moment you open your door, sleepy eyes, greasy pajamas, and then face distorting in utter disbelief when staring at your ex fiance standing right in front of you, time stops. Satoru couldn’t believe his own eyes. His Six eyes were useless, his soul was already screaming to him that the person in front of him was the love of his life.

“Satoru… ?” you whisper, unable to know if you were dreaming, or not. He died a little when he finally heard his name slipping out of your lips after so many years.

You can’t even utter another word, that his large frame is on you. His strong arms wrap around your body, cradling you in the depth of his chest and undying love for you. He inhales, you smell the same as he remembers. Oh, sweet Lord, how he missed this. He felt his heart beating again, his lungs working finally normally, he was breathing. Yes, he was breathing. Thanks to you. He never felt more alive in this moment. What a duality. A cruel duality.

“I did read your letter. Let me say my goodbyes to you too, y/n. One last time, I beg you,” he murmurs in the crook of your neck. Gojo Satoru never begs. Yet, here he was, ready to go on his knees like he did when he proposed to you, to implore one last blessing moment in your presence.

Your feelings were conflicted, you were in the arms of the man that broke your heart, and from whom you just made your goodbyes. Maybe that was mean of you, to send this letter the day before his battle against Sukuna. When you saw it on the news, you understood that it would be maybe your last time being able to reach to him. You told him what you needed to say. For you, that was final. But one thing that you didn’t take accountability for, was his soul wrenching love for you. And, in this small moment of peace before war, you decided to indulge in his vulnerability, no, yours. Wait, both of you were more vulnerable than you could ever be again.

“Satoru.”

“I missed you,” he whispers as he slowly lift his head, blue glossy eyes meeting yours intimately. Tears, rolling down. You couldn't fathom it.

“I’m so, so, oh so sorry. Do you forgive me for breaking your heart ?” His voice is like a whimper, and you feel a part of your soul breaking at his pleading. Your lips quiver.

“Yes, Satoru. And do you forgive me too for breaking yours ?”

“I never resented you,” he closes his eyes saying that, leaning his forehead against yours. That was unspoken, but you understood the depth of his words. After all, you knew him better than anyone else. He made you leave him, on purpose, and you were aware why he did that. You indeed left, he watched you doing it, unable to stop this tragedy from happening, because you both knew that marrying each other would have been probably the biggest dream and nightmare of your life. You both broke each other's hearts that day.

“I never did too,” you answer, closing your eyes.

“I love you, you know that, right ? Always did."

“I love you, Satoru. I know that you do. And…” you both open back your eyes at the same time, “I realize that loving you was my greatest curse, but your eyes grant me mercy. In them I see the salvation of my soul, but I know that your heart has already cursed me,” you finish in a breath coming from the depth of your being.

Two tears roll down at your answer. One from your eye, one from his. He sniffs, unable to suppress his emotions, and then slowly take out of his pocket two objects. First, a letter, bigger than the one you wrote him. It was unfinished, he didn’t have the time to. He softly puts it in the crook of your hand.

“Read it if I’m gone, if I’m not, then give it back to me in person," he asks you, his pearly white lashes getting wet from the tears in his eyes. You both knew deep in your hearts that you would never be able to give it back to him. Yet, you force a smile on your face.

“I promise.”

The second object, was your engagement ring. Satoru knew it was oh so egoistical of him to give it back, when you send it attached to the letter this morning. He refused to keep it. He still had his on his finger, he wanted you to keep it too.

You said in your letter that you refused to keep it anymore because you cared for it far too much and it reminded you too much of him. Satoru wanted you to remember him. He was sure that when he will die, people would forget about him, and move on. He came to accept that fact. People only cared about the farthest and the greatest grand Gojo Satoru, The Strongest. Once death would take this title from him, he would have nothing left, aside from you.

“Only you can carry my love. Never forget that. You said that you hope by returning it to me you can finally be free. For my christmas gift, let me take your freedom,” he pleads, no, begs. His hand was shaking as he gently slid back the ring on your finger, it was his ultimate wish.

A sob escapes your lips. You cursed him for doing that to you. But how could you be mad, when granting the death wish of your long lost fiance ? You look back at the shiny ring, and remember how you blessed Heavens the day he proposed to you. It hurts to know that you never had the chance to call him your husband. Your love was doomed from the beginning. The world was cruel, so cruel.

“I’ll feel alive as long as I’m in your heart, may you never forget me,” he finishes, tangling his fingers in yours.

His left hand cradles your cheek, and you slowly lean towards him. His lips melt against yours, in this final goodbye, last kiss, last shared moment, heart to heart beating in sync. Your souls intertwined, and Satoru wished he could just die right now in your arms, in the sweetness of your lips and warmth of your love.

“In another life, Satoru. In another life we’ll marry and love each other how we wanted to, just not in this one,” you whisper like a secret to the world against his lips. He smiles through the tears.

“I’ll gladly die with a smile, now.” At least he could die the same day as Geto Suguru, one year after him, joining him in death. At least he could die knowing you loved him no matter what. At least he could die knowing that in his next life he could be by your side, again.

You never forgot him. You kept the ring on your finger, until your last breath and till death do you part. It did.

THE END

[bonefall]

Do you have any plans for Frost’s littermates in ASC?

It's odd that Canon!Curlfeather is portrayed on the screen as a scheming character who was fully willing to manipulate her daughter into a position of power, and smart enough to know that she needed lackeys to carry out her dirtywork... and yet, seemingly had no plans for her other two kids.

On one hand, I can understand her wanting to "use" her family as little as possible. You could say she's willing to make a sacrifice with Frostkit's comfort, but wants to spare her other children from it.

On the other hand... I just don't feel like that works. I want to portray BB!Curlfeather as someone who truly believes every choice she made was good for her children. She might reconsider some of her beliefs based on her closeness to Morningstar while in the Dark Forest, but in life, she is absolutely the sort of person who would have a use in mind for her kittens.

I'm not super proud of these quick designs I made for Mistpaw and Graypaw, but here's a first draft;

You probably notice that they're all dog-like, and that's because they are direct descendants of Bluestar in BB! WOLF MOTIF BABEY

In fact, this is going to be a massive contributor towards their characterizations. I may be shuffling my tree in some other ways to make for better faction drama in RiverClan, but BB!Curlfeather priding her lineage, especially as it connects to Crookedstar and Stonefur, is very important to how it shapes her identity.

DESIGN AND DRABBLE BENEATH THE CUT;

On the wolf motif as a whole;

To begin with; note the apple-leaf eye markings! They are subject to the Mapleshade Curse.

Something I like to play with a lot is misconceptions about wolf behavior. For Bluestar herself, where this all began, I use the myth of the "lone wolf" as symbolism that she never truly acted alone.

At every turn, she had friends and family. Her sacrifices, her ruling style, everything she's ever done, is based on her love for both ThunderClan as well as the cats in other Clans.

The symbol of her friend group, the Forget-Me-Not, comes to symbolize Fire Alone as an ideology.

So... the Curlkin.

What I'm playing with is the idea that wolves are perfect, ferociously strong predators from birth.

Curlfeather wants to eventually give her children strong, respectable positions in the Clan. For Frostpaw, that's the Cleric position.

For the other kids, she was still assessing them as they were growing. Deputyship would have been for one of them, but she hadn't planned so far ahead that it would have been unreasonable.

"When you see a fish upstream, you don't race ahead to catch it downriver."

So, she wanted Mist and Gray to be strong and always encouraged them to achieve greatness. They were battle training as soon as they could, and never missed a day.

But it wasn't really their interest, and they weren't really "naturally gifted" or anything. They just do what their mom tells them is good to do for their future.

As a result I want all of them to look a little goofy in some way, except Curlfeather herself.

Frostpaw herself is the softest of the lot, but I want to make sure Gray and Mist are pretty obviously sweeter than they seem too.

Unfortunately though, I don't think I captured what I was going for. I'm definitely gonna give the Frost Siblings a second pass, while Frostpaw will just get refined a little.

Graypaw

He's naturally huge. Even as a newborn, people would comment about him being a big fat kitten.

As a result, he was probably the most "promising," early on.

Understand though; this wasn't necessarily nefarious. Having accomplished warriors as offspring is a sign of a great warrior, it makes a strong family.

It didn't mean she only saw her largest child as an opportunity. He just had great potential, which she would nourish.

He's a little bit entitled as a result. He's big, he works hard, his family's a big deal, he knows it.

And that's sort of his "issue," if you want to call it that. He's not really interested in honor for honor's sake, or improving himself for the sake of the Clan, the way his mother would expect a great warrior like herself to be.

He likes the tangible rewards of strength and is motivated by approval.

...which causes him to be a bully to those he considers weaker.

That ear got shredded in a fight somehow, I haven't decided yet if there's going to be another set of apprentices around the time, if it was Splashtail or his sister, or if it was a cat from another Clan who got tired of his shit lmaoo

(In any case it was NOT his mother.)

Since him and his sister have "obedient to their mother" as major personality traits, I decided to give them both domestic dog characteristics. Graypaw has a german shepherd "stance."

I really like when people give Gray some cream in his design, so I made him look kinda like how I imagine Stonefur.

I don't really like it, though, especially since he's usually described as "silver tabby."

In my next draft, I'll probably make him look more like "Swansong if he had the wolf motif."

And also fatter. They are not fat enough. These are RiverClan warriors and they are all too damn skinny.

Frostpaw

Since this arc began, I've imagined that Frosty has a sort of "little red riding hood" vibe. It's been mixing in my head with the wolf motif, the phrase "wool over the eyes," and the idea of a wolf in sheep's clothing to result in a sort of wooly cloak idea.

Something about a wolf cub who doesn't know who to trust-- the Big Bad Wolf, or the Lumberjack with a blood-soaked axe.

Lost, confused, their whole world turned upside down.

(hmmm.... maybe I'll do a thing where, before their mom's death, the wool covers her eyes. When she sees her die, the look of shock and horror is etched into her face forever.)

In BB, the Clan cats are monitored by scientists. They wouldn't be spaying or neutering the subjects of their investigation-- so I made her iconic "scars" MUCH bigger.

In fact, they're autopsy stitches. I'm going for a sort of "BROUGHT BACK FROM THE DEAD" vibe there.

Real "there is no way you would have survived those injuries without modern medicine" hours

I'm satisfied with this design, so I probably won't be changing it much besides tweaks. Though, I might make it so her "belly" wasn't exposed before the scientists shaved it to stitch her back up.

NOTE: If you wanna see more Frostpaw Plans, go check out this post where I jotted down a ton of ideas, it's also got further links to explore on BB!ASC thoughts I've been sitting on

Mistpaw

This is the one I like the least. She looks waaaaay too much like an Ivypool.

In my next pass I need to make her look cuter and goofier, give her some curls.

Like Graypaw, she only has one particularly unique scene in ASC so I'm building her personality around that.

Graypaw was a bit of a bully, so Mistpaw's got her mom's silver tongue and sharp wit. She can give a Mistystar speech if she wants.

She's a natural thinker, very curious, willing to question. It's something Curlfeather encourages in her, always coming in with the right answer to keep her satisfied.

"Mom, why do we train so much harder than everyone else?"

"To outdo them, of course."

"But... why train so hard when there's no threat? The impostor is gone, we're at peace."

"Oh, my love. You cannot pack a week's worth of training into the minute before a battle. They come hard and fast, and your attacker will have the advantage of surprise. Only practice will compensate."

Though Gray was a really big kitten and naturally imposing, Mist would be the one Curlfeather would ultimately decide was most fitting as a deputy.

If they'd gotten to that point, the siblings probably would have gotten in more fights as Gray started desiring the position for its benefits.

He'd see his mom was clearly giving Mist more opportunities to prove herself, and demand equal chances.

Mist would start thinking of Gray as a stupid bully who thinks he deserves everything because his shoulders are big.

BOTH of them would probably start trying to get Frost to support them over the other.

It would have been a MESS.

BUT, they never did get to that point. Curl was pretty equally focused on them at the point where she died.

When Graypaw got his ear shredded, Mistpaw thought it looked disgusting and horrific and "decided" to crop her own entirely. For reasons I covered in this Hearing Loss guide, RiverClan relies very little on hearing while hunting anyway.

I wanted Mistpaw to look extremely practical, and reference the cropped ears of a domestic dog. Give her a sort of "doberman" vibe.

Something struck me that Curlfeather could have talked her daughter into getting her ears cropped, both to show visually that she's politically grooming her just as much as she's politically grooming Frostpaw.

But... I'm unsure if I'll stick with it. I might have both Gray AND Mist get their ears cropped, or neither.

I also batted around the idea of a cropped tail, too, but THAT would definitely be too far since a tail is very important in swimming.

In fact, I made her tail waaaay too short and her build too thin, in the pursuit of that "doberman" idea.

Again; not a fan of this design. I will probably re-use it later or just give it away. Maybe I'll wait until I have a couple of "Rejected BB Designs" and do an adoptable batch lmao.

[olderthannetfic]

I'm forever intrigued by people who get mad any time Nick Fury is written as a bottom. They always say it's racist, then go dead silent when I say, "I'm black and gay. Is it racist for me to bottom? I have to top, no matter what I actually WANT to do? There's a racially mandated position for me?" They're always so confident prior. There's always capslock and accusations of fetishization and depending on the situation either calling someone a fujoshi or a gooner. Then I ask the very natural question. If it's bad for a black man to bottom, does that make me bad if I want to? And suddenly it gets quiet. Suddenly they're not confident in yelling at strangers online.

I'm fucking TIRED of every black guy having to be a top. Because that's what this boils down to. It's never about canon personalities or anything like that. You're black, you're getting written with a big black cock and you're topping. Period. It's boring. It's unengaging. It's vaguely dehumanizing. And I am no longer going to be nice about this. If I have to make people uncomfortable to get them to think about this, I WILL.

Some part of me wonders if these people actually mean well. They claim they do. They claim to be fighting black fetishization. But if we can only ever be one thing and fill one purpose, is that fighting anything? Or is that just "don't like a thing I don't like"? Because in the end they're asking people to write a whole race the same way. And that doesn't seem very woke or social justice-y to me.

But even if they DID mean well: if your idea of equality means a race can only do one thing, maybe you might wanna rethink that. Look up what equality means. Because this ain't it.

A thing I do with people I know in real life is, "would you be comfortable with someone saying this about your race?" I think people, especially alleged allies, need to do that here. Would you be comfortable with someone saying white people always top? Would that not feel a bit reductive to you?

--

I... what...? Both versions of this are stupid, for obvious reasons, but I'd have expected yelling about him exclusively topping, to be honest. I've seen the equivalent in quite a few fandoms.

Given fandom's penchant for having the character with more narrative focus and interiority bottom, I'd think, on average, it would be positive to see a black character bottoming. But, really, like you say, can we make black characters the unmarked default who can do whatever instead of Very Special Tokens?

[deim0sdread]

The Outsiders characters as things I did

Pretty self explanatory I just do a lot of stupid things and one of them had me thinking about it too bad I needed to share

Two-Bit: Made a joke that cruelly lacked context and made me look like I kicked children for fun. So I used to coach kids at this gymnastics school and I taught 5 to 9 year old kids and I was getting overstimulated and the kid bit my leg and licked the blood from the wound and I shook my leg until the kid was off. I had to get stitches for the wound and I cope with humour so I texted my friend “Call me Mister Hyde the way I just kicked a child” and I almost got cancelled. Even after explaining we still stopped being friends and honestly I get why

Dally: Called my guy best friend’s girlfriend a cheating whore while myself dating a man that was cheating on me. Then finding out that he was cheating on me with his girlfriend. I fought them after finding them in bed together. I’D DO IT AGAIN 🗣️🗣️🗣️

Ponyboy: I got caught reading in class because I had a huge reaction to what was said in the book and my teacher took my book away and never gave it back. I WANT MY BOOK BACK

Sodapop: Sobbed before going inside the Walt Disney World Haunted Mansion and when my mom tried to comfort me in my native language I kept sobbing and even got worse but when the park lady came up to me to comfort me in a language I didn’t understand I immediately stopped crying

Johnny: Screamed bloody murder and got ignored while my parents were arguing really badly and I thought they were about to kill each other. The neighbour called the cops because he heard me scream and not because of the argument and my parents were confused when the cops showed up for a loud scared scream

Darry: At one of my first shifts at work in was a closing shift and it was late and I was exhausted so when a guy asked me when his drink would be ready I just said “Hell if I know!” instead of “just in a moment” like I was meant to

Steve: I tried to fix my bike when I was little and I thought I could do it alone and almost ended up cutting off my pinky finger while changing the bike chain. I haven’t been on a bike since!

Bob: First time I ever drank alcohol I was so drunk that when I watched my favourite movie at the time and my two favourite characters got killed off I was sobbing and pointing at the screen saying “No… Billy no!” For 15 minutes

Randy: I was supposed to fight this guy and I forgot about it and the next day he punched me in the face and I just said “My man let’s kiss not fight” and we did end up kissing

Marcia: I saw my dad come back from work covered in motor oil and I cried because I didn’t recognize him when he was dirty

Cherry: First time that I went to a drive-in movie I was arguing with my friend because I wanted her to stop talking so I could watch Guardians of the Galaxy and I fell out of the van and we had to scrap my favourite clothes because there was cow shit

Paul: When I broke up with my ex (a different one than previously mentioned) I was so heartbroken I acted like I planned it all from the beginning and this was all part of my master plan because I was actually emotionless and people were like a chess board to me while I was sobbing in call to my best friend because I couldn’t believe he left me for some 25 year old when we were both still 15

also mendatory moot ping @izaacs-notdeadyet @urmomatron700 @b3st-sunday-dr3ss @brat-pack-it-up-boys @brooke-likesmusic

[thatonebirdwrites]

Book

(Part of Lena's POV from Coffee) Follow-up to L-Corp, Chill, and Scotch (Lena's POV), Catco and Family (Kara's POV), Kara and Heat, Plumerias and Ink and Aura

Hospital time exists outside of real time. Lena finds the days fold into each other, like origami, each design needlessly complicated mess. The pain simmers like an old friend, while the other symptoms irritate her. Sitting upright is difficult, and the dizziness exacerbates her sense of unreality.

Plus the unrelenting nausea from the medicines has her not wanting to eat anything.

But Sam, Kara, and Kelly won't stand for that. Nor will her nurses. So she drinks the broths and meal-replacement drinks, snacks on the frozen fruit pops, and tolerates the crummy decaffeinated tea.

She's certain she'd lose her mind if it weren't for the steady stream of books.

The one Kara reads to her she keeps on the bedside table for that is their thing now. It surprises her how much she enjoys Kara's reading voice, and the unique voices she gives each character is utterly delightful. She should ask Kara to come read for the kids at the Luthor Children's Hospital. They'd likely adore it.

So for the times when she's alone and not sleeping or taken for wheelchair 'walks,' she reads whatever the technicians find in the meager hospital library. Most are romances, which aren't her cup of tea, so she urges them to seek out any other genre.

Which is why she's reading about the origins of corn today. She expects it to be bland, but instead, she finds herself engrossed in the vivid prose, each description almost like poetry. The writer is an Indigenous woman who gardens for a living, and her storytelling prowess amazes Lena. She also reminds her of Kara due to how easily excited and fervent her prose becomes when digging deep into the history of corn and its interactions with humanity.

She's so engrossed that she misses the knock on her door at first.

"Ms. Luthor?"

She looks up, confused. The person in her doorway isn't any of the nurses or technicians that she's seen so far. Instead, they are dressed in what looks oddly like pastor garments. Their skin a deep mahogany, and their eyes a brown so dark that it blends with the black of their pupils.

"Yes?" She does not like religious people. So why one stands in her doorway irritates her.

"I was asked to stop by." The person smiles and takes a step closer. "I'm Chaplain Grove, they/them pronouns, and an agnostic. I'm here for those that aren't religious but may wish to have someone to help process their stay."

Lena blinks and tucks her bookmark into the book. She adjusts her bed with the controls so she's sort-of sitting upright. It makes her body ache and her chest hurt, but the numbing meds in the IV cools her arm and helps control the pain.

"I asked for you? When?" She searches her memory, but the unreality of time in the hospital makes it very hard to be certain of the day or when events transpire. She notes the clock, and how it's still an hour before Kara shows up.

At first that knowledge made her anxious. Now she years for it. Kara's presence grounds her, comforts her, and it honestly terrifies her how she's already fallen back into Kara's gravity well.

She has no sense of self-preservation when it comes to that blonde alien.

Grove nods. "You asked to talk with someone about your situation."

"Oh." That's right. The nurse last night, after the nightly meds, asked if she needed anything, and she'd replied, "I think I need an outside opinion about my situation. Someone who doesn't know me."

They pull a chair closer and lean forward, their hands clasped over their knees. "What is it you need?"

She might as well roll with this. "Someone I love deeply hurt me. Lied to me about their..." she can't outright say alternate identity, so she settles for something mundane, "... side job. I know it's a dangerous one, but still. It hurt."

"Your partner?" they ask.

Why is everyone calling Kara that? Lena probably should correct people, but part of her desperately wants it to be true. But that requires more trust than Lena knows how to give.

So she nods and just goes with it.

Maybe this bubble will burst when she leaves the hospital, and she'll have to reckon with the reality of their shattered friendship (relationship?). She's too tired, too in pain to think about that now. She wants the comfort, the grounding, the solidity of Kara's presence.

As much as Kelly and Sam's presence helps ground her too, it's not the same.

"Have you talked with her about how you feel?" The Chaplain asks.

"Yes, before my hospitalization." If their gazebo talk counts as that. "She apologized, promised to be honest, and do better."

"And has she?"

The question stops Lena's thoughts entirely. Has Kara done so?

She thinks through the conversations they've had since Kara's confession at the Pulitzer's. Thinks of how open Kara has been about all aspects of herself. Thinks of the tentative stories Kara shares about her childhood on Krypton, stories she admits she's been too fearful to tell anyone, even Alex. How honest she'd been about the need to hide, and how difficult it is to break those habits.

Little bits and pieces that slip out during her visiting hours.

"Yes, yes, she has." Surprise fills her, and a surge of yearning that brings tears to her eyes. "It's hard to trust her still."

"What's stopping you?"

"I..." she frowns. What is indeed? "Fear I guess."

Chaplain Grove nods. "That's a common motivator. It can be hard to push past it. Do you want to trust her again?"

"Yes, yes, so much so." The word spills out fervently, the desire for Kara so intense that Lena has to briefly close her eyes. God, she's hopeless, isn't she?

"Then why not choose to trust her? I know it sounds easy to say, but often the act of choosing can help build that foundation of trust. By choosing to trust, by choosing to try again, by choosing to be present, trust begins to grow again. So again, what's stopping you?"

Damn, this dude is good. She doesn't know what to say in response to that. So she settles for a simple reply. "You've given me a lot to consider. Thank you. I'd like to think it over alone now."

They smile. "Do you need anything else?" When she shakes her head, they stand and adjust their vest. "Then I'll let you rest. If you need me again, don't hesitate to ask."

Lena lifts her hand in a farewell, and watches them leave. The silence wraps around her, and the chaplain's words dance through her thoughts.

Choosing to trust. She knows it's never that easy.

With a sigh, Lena places her book on the side table and lowers the bed to an one-hundred and sixty degree angle. Much easier on her chest and back.

She looks up at the speckled ceiling, a drab white, and glances around the room at the paintings of waterfalls and mountains. Outside her window a palm tree moves in the breeze, and she sees the wing of the other side of the hospital.

She thinks of her talk with Kelly yesterday during her visit.

"How are you feeling today?" Kelly settles into the chair by her bed. She has a bag with her, and she pulls out knitting supplies to keep her hands busy.

"Pain, exhaustion. Irritation. Nothing new. What about you?" The way Kelly keeps their conversations simple helps Lena cope. She doesn't want complications right now. She's too sick and scared.

Kelly sighs. "I relate to the exhaustion and irritation. Alex and I had an argument about the lies she's done in regards to Kara and her work."

"Oh." Lena winces. She's partially responsible for that since she'd outed Kara to Kelly. "I'm sorry."

"No, no, it's all right." Kelly waves her hand at Lena with a smile. "We talked it out last night. I understand she couldn't tell me about Kara without permission, and Kara's need to hide is... a need of hers." She starts a new row of whatever she's knitting, the yarn a beautiful blend of violet, red, and turquoise. "Alex admits that part of that drive to hide is her and her mother's fault. They wanted to protect Kara. Apparently the government found out where she was as a teenager, and tried to take her away for training."

Lena's eyes widen. That sounds creepily like what her brother did with Red Daughter. "Did they?"

Kelly shakes her head. "Alex's father offered himself instead. Alex didn't get into specifics. There's a lot of trauma there."

Lena rests her hands on her stomach and looks at the ceiling. "Gives more context to it all," she says after a long silence.

"Yeah, it certainly does."

"Do -- do you forgive Alex for her lies?" Lena's not sure exactly what she's asking, but she needs to know Kelly's answer.

Kelly studies her for a long moment, her fingers deftly moving along. The clatter of the knitting needles roots Lena in the present far more than she cares to admit.

"Yes. It's not easy, but that's part of loving someone. We both apologized, we both sought repair, and we'll do better." She smiles and pauses her work to lightly touch Lena's hand. "This is what worked for me, so don't feel like you must do the same."

Lena smiles grateful for Kelly's words, but truthfully, she wants to forgive Kara. She wants things to be okay. She's tired of being angry.

She's facing death yet again, but this time it's slow and painful. Where each day feels like it might be her last. Where sometimes her breaths are so labored, her heart pulsing with pain, that the alarm of the EKG beeps a honing signal for Lady Death to visit.

But then nurses come and stabilize her, and she's wrapped once again in that timeless haze of this drawn-out healing regimen.

She's under no illusion that if Kara and Sam had not intervened, she would be dead.

The memory of Kelly's talk coupled with the Chaplain's words tangle together in Lena's mind. It feels almost like the universe itself is telling her to trust Kara.

The more she considers the situation, the more she sees how much of a pedestal she'd placed on Kara. She'd assumed perfection, placed far too much expectations on Kara, which was bound to explode at some point, regardless of Lex's meddling. That isn't fair to anyone.

Yes, Kara hurt her. Yes, trusting her again is terrifying.

But her actions since the confession proves that Kara is trying to be better. Lena can see that now; funny how being ill gives her a clarity she failed to have prior.

A knock sounds on her door again, and this time when it opens, it's Kara.

Her beautiful, lovely, and often frustrating love. She's wearing black slacks, suspenders, and a button-down violet shirt. Downright illegal handsome, especially with her hair pulled back in a ponytail.

"Hey," Kara says, nervously. "How are you feeling?"

Lena reaches out her hand. The urge to touch Kara, to feel her warmth under her fingers overwhelms her.

"Why not choose to trust her?" The chaplain's words echo in her head, followed by Kelly's "...that's part of loving someone..."

Kara scoots the chair close to her bed and grasps her hand. Lena tugs until she's even closer, and presses Kara's hand against her heart.

Since her confession, Kara's followed through on each promise, has been almost brutally honest at times, and here she is, faithfully coming every day for hours at a time. She's Supergirl, and yet she puts her Catco job, Supergirl, and all her duties aside for Lena.

Lena knows she's staring. She sees how Kara shifts and the blush that blooms on her face.

A smile curves her lips. "I'm glad you're here," she says quietly and finds she means it.

The hospital is less scary, less daunting when Kara is here. Sam may hold back the dread with her jokes and tales, but Kara's presence melts into Lena like water saturating her dehydrated cells.

A literal sunbeam and golden retriever rolled into one, and Lena finds that she can't stay away. Doing so nearly killed her.

Choose to trust?

Okay, she will then. As terrifying as that is.

***

The chaplain visits four more times, partly due to Kelly's advice. "They're trained in therapy too. Some of my cohorts ended up as chaplains. The other option is to ask for a psychologist, but they often can be more formal. I highly recommend either."

Lena trusts Kelly's expertise, so she asks for the chaplain. Each visit is only thirty minutes, but she finds, to her shock, that talking about her emotions help.

It's a novel idea.

Not a new one. Sam has been on her for years to attend therapy. She has no intention of telling her of this development since Sam is already insufferable enough.

But Sam notices the change anyway.

"You sure are calm, despite being locked up in this room," Sam says one evening. Lena's not sure which day of the stay, that timelessness of the hospital is as present as always.

"Hardly locked up," Lena drawls. "I just am too ill to move much."

"Do you walk at all?" Sam leans forward, and digs her elbows into Lena's bed to prop up her head. "Because I read laying for long periods isn't good for your muscles."

"Yes, the nurses have a physical therapist come by to work with me." Lena rolls her eyes. "I'm being cared for, Sam."

"Good. You know, if I didn't know any better, I'd say you seem more at peace with yourself." Sam smiles, but her forehead still has that crinkle of concern. "Who would have thought a hospital stay would bring you peace."

"Forced rest does wonders to the spirit," Lena says.

"Then perhaps we'll work in forced rest periods into your work hours," Sam jokes with a grin. "It'll be the Lena Luthor Rest Hour."

Lena weakly swats Sam, but she smiles. If this stay has taught her anything, it's drilled home how important rest is for one's body. How she's not a machine but a human with weaknesses and strengths.

And having a human body means rest as much as she loathes how it breaks into her productivity.

It hits her then.

"It's a Luthor trait to keep going despite the pain," Lena says, slowly. "I was taught productivity and efficiency is what matters the most. But that's not right at all. Love matters the most. I wouldn't be here if not for the love you and Kara have for me." She looks at Sam and tears sting her eyes. "Thank you."

Sam gently rests her hand over Lena's. "Of course. You're family."

Family.

Such a confusing premise, but Lena's starting to understand what family can be. Warmth, comfort, love, laughter, tears, grief, and trusting others to have her back.

It's something she's deeply wanted for so long, and she finds it here with Sam, with Kara, and with Kara's friends.

Sure, the lies hurt still, but no one is perfect. Even someone who loves her can fuck up, just as she messes up too. Perfection is unattainable, and she's learning to be okay with that.

Maybe choosing to trust isn't as hard as she thought.

***

Lena finds herself falling each time Kara visits. Not physically falling, but more falling deeper into love.

She's given herself permission to tentatively trust that Kara means it when she says she'll do better. That opens a door somewhere in Lena's heart, and she finds that she can't look away when Kara's at her side.

She wants to map Kara's face with her eyes, to capture this moment in perfect detail in her memory. The warmth of Kara's hand in her own as she holds it against her heart seeps through Lena's spirit.

Kara doesn't have to do this. She doesn't have to come faithfully, and yet she does. She's always done this. Always thrown aside her duties whenever Lena was in need.

The lies hurt, yes, but the warmth of these other memories began to break that hurt down. To repurpose it into the growing trust foundation. She thinks of the Japanese style of using gold to seal cracks in ceramic vessels. She's mending the cracks with Kara.

Learning about Kara's mind-healing sessions melts more gold into the cracks of their foundation. It's evidence that Lena didn't realize she needed to witness.

So shouldn't Lena try to be better for Kara too? Isn't that part of loving someone?

Her eyes rove over Kara's face, the tan of her skin, the golden locks that curl in perfect ringlets, her soft features, and the light she emits by simply being Kara.

God, she loves her so much. Those months making herself scarce had been torture, and now, as she struggles to heal from Endocarditis, she's caught up in the gravity well of Kara's gentle and loving support.

Kara had been the one to alert Sam, and now Lena has a fighting chance to beat this infection of the heart. It's almost poetic in a way, that of all her organs it's her heart impacted the most.

"Do I have something on my face?" Kara blushes and fiddles with her glasses.

Lena laughs. She can't help it. Kara is adorable when she's flustered. "Just your glasses."

Healing may be painful at times, but it also wraps her in a joy and fervent hope. One she's never allowed herself to ever feel prior. She's always been waiting for everything to crash down on her head, for the good to be taken from her.

And yet, Kara, Sam, and the others haven't left. Her brother tried to steal this all from her by ripping into her insecurities and fears in the worst way.

And yet, despite it all, despite the horror of what she's done, she's not alone. Kara is still here.

Lena wants to kiss her. (She doesn't.)

***

When Kara comes the next day, Lena has finished yet another book. This one a silly mystery, where she'd guessed the twist halfway through the book. But it passes the time.

Lena's restless. Tired of the same walls, but she's too ill to handle siting up for long, and the antibiotics side effects exhaust her.

On days when the symptoms are less, she sits in the reclining chair by the window. Birds like to build nests in the palm trees outside, and watching them brings her a quiet comfort.

The doctor's visit yesterday had alarmed Kara. Lena could see that, but it's no surprise that the infection is stubborn. Much like Lena herself.

She suspects this will end with surgery, and she knows how much Kara fears that. She'd been uncharacteristically wild in her tone, her eyes wide with fear, during the doctor's discussion about test results and Lena's condition.

So today, Lena holds out her hand and pulls Kara close, until the chair is pushed against her bed. She reaches out to gently run her hand through Kara's locks. She wore them down, likely due to Supergirl duties before this visit.

Kara studies her, intently, a quizzical look on her face.

Lena's fingers trail down Kara's cheek to her chin. She's not sure how to comfort Kara. Such things don't come easy for her, and with how ill she feels, she can't do much more than offer words and touch.

"You're here," she murmurs. The words inadequately sum up her thoughts. "We're both here."

"Yes?" Kara is still, as if afraid to disturb her. Her blue eyes are dark, and her tongue licks her lips so swiftly that Lena wonders if she imagines it.

She runs her thumb over Kara's lips, and feels the moisture there. "Time seems suspended here," she says, softly. "Days blend into one another. The sun rises and sets, and yet I'm still here. You keep saving me."

They've spoken of this before, but she can't help it. She's had far too much time to think over her life while stuck in this hospital room. The antibiotics certainly add to that surreal feeling, with how woozy they make her feel.

"I always will." Kara's gaze sears the air between them, and Lena wants to grab Kara's shirt, tug her closer, and kiss her.

But she's still too weak. So she runs her thumb over Kara's lips instead. Kara doesn't stop her.

"You're gorgeous, you know?" Lena whispers.

The blush decorates Kara's cheeks, and she sucks in a breath. The expelled air warm against Lena's fingers.

"It's cute how flustered you get with compliments," Lena says, dryly. She can't hide her smile, especially as Kara's blush deepens.

"Lena," Kara whines, but says nothing more.

Lena rubs her thumb over Kara's cheek, and thinks of how this grounds her and distracts her far more than pain meds and reading books.

For Kara is a book in of herself. Her pages on display for Lena to read, her stories rich with details now that they are fully honest with each other. With Kara, she can read forever, never tiring of the tale, never wanting to put the book down.

She holds Kara's story in her hands, and she wants nothing more than to delve into its prose, to mine it for the wonder of Kara's indomitable spirit and her endless trove of knowledge.

Each page turned, each moment shared, spills yet more gold into the cracks, and Lena feels full of hope and love.

Does she write upon Kara's heart in turn? Is their growing relationship transcribing a shared story between them? Is this what partnership is like?

All of her care team calls Kara her partner, and Lena finds she likes it. She likes it far more than she should.

Is this partnership forged because Lena's ill? Because she's in the hospital? Will it stay once she recovers and can return home?

She doesn't want to let it go.

Tears sting her eyes. Wetness dampens her cheeks. Kara's hand wipes away her tears.

"I'm here," Kara says, gently. "You're not alone."

Lena presses her face into Kara's hand.

Trust grows when the ground is fertile. This timeless hospital stay fertilizes the ground, pushes Lena to face her mortality, and she knows that Kara deserves so much more than Lena.

And yet, Kara is here anyway.

An open book that unfurls more stories each day. Each glimpse into Kara's Kryptonian heritage draws Lena closer, each memory of her Earth years sparks Lena's curiosity. Each time Kara turns the questions on Lena, and tentative she shares her own stories.

It goes against her instincts, and yet, she understands Kara's fear of loss, her need to hide. Hasn't she too hidden herself behind an impenetrable wall of ice? Yet, Kara's light melts the ice.

Will she survive this infection? Lena doesn't know, and tries to be realistic. So why not allow herself this guilty pleasure?

She's trying, and Lena can do no less.

"I know," she says. "You've always been here."

That truth transcribes across both their hearts.

***

Being under anesthesia is not a pleasant experience. Lena wakes groggy, confused, and afraid. Her heart aches, and her vision blurry, her glasses and contacts somewhere else. She feels along her blankets, touches the railings of the bed, and the cold metal grounds her. The lights are dim but still too bright.

The fear slowly abates. She's in the hospital. That's right, and she's recovering from something. It takes longer for the thought to coalesce into the word 'surgery.'

That's right. A surgery happened.

Her last memory was the anesthesiologist explaining each of his actions, while he administers the dose. The surgeon and nurses are all dressed in their blue surgery garments, gloves, and masks, their hair tucked up into the blue hats and hair nets.

Now she lays on her hospital bed in a large room full of other patients. Nurses and other specialists flutter between beds.

One of them stops by her bed. "Waking up?" The nurse sits down next to her. "Can you tell me your name?"

Lena blinks at the man, his skin a deep amber, and his eyes a warm hazel. "Lena," she manages, her throat dry. "Kieran Luthor."

"Good. Do you know what year it is?"

She's confused. Why is he asking? "2020..."

"Great." The nurse smiles. "Would you like something to drink? We can offer some apple juice or water."

"Juice please. Where exactly am I? Did -- did the surgery go..." She's a little dizzy still.

"You're in recovery. We need to watch over you until the anesthesia is fully out of your system." The nurse adjusts the blood pressure cuff and slides the oxy-meter onto her finger. He writes something on a clipboard by her bed. "Surgery went well. Once you've recovered more, the doctor will speak to you."

That's a relief. Lena briefly closes her eyes. Her mind flutters to Kara, and she pictures Kara's affectionate smile, the warmth of her body, and the kindness in her words. She opens her eyes and blinks away the floaties.

"Where's Kara?"

"Your partner?" Even the recovery nurses call her that. Huh.

"Yeah." She really shouldn't be encouraging this, but she can't help herself. She wants strong but gentle arms to hold her close. To warm her and remind her that she's alive. She wants Kara at her side, and that yearning pierces through the haze on her mind.

"She's waiting at your room. We don't normally allow visitors back here." The nurse pats her hands. "Let me get your juice."

She watches him walk toward the counters at the back of the room. Her memory sizzles with fog, but that's slowly starting to lift. Her thoughts start to come easier.

When he returns with the juice and a drinking straw, she gratefully sips, the cool liquid soothing her throat.

She's left alone again, but only brief as the nurse comes by to take her vitals again. It's a procedure that she's grown used to in her long stay here, and she moves her arm the way the nurse needs to get the most accurate readings.

No clocks within vicinity, which means she has no idea what time it is or even the exact day. She sips her juice as her mind slowly reclaims itself from the haze of anesthesia.

Once again, time sneaks away from her.

The ceiling is painted a light blue with white clouds, and the air has a sterile scent. Soft, pleasant music hums in the background.

"Ms. Luthor?" The surgeon steps up to her bedside. He's back in a white lab coat, with his blue mask still on his face. His hair is slicked back in a ponytail, his skin a deep tan. "How are you feeling?"

"Better," she says. "Less pain."

He smiles. "Good. The surgery was a success. We cleared the pustules and repaired your valve. I recommend taking it easy for the next few weeks. Rest is your friend here. Your heart needs more time to heal."

"Okay." Lena figures that rest will be her life for the next few months. Between Sam and Kara, they'll keep her to that. "What else do I need for recovery?"

"I'll speak with your primary doctor, but I do recommend physical and occupational therapy. You'll need to ease back into exercise, and both can assist with that transition." He makes a notation on the clipboard. "Any other questions?"

Normally she'd unleash a dozen or so, but she's tired still and the haze has only recently lifted. "No, thank you."

"Okay. If you have any, ask your nurse, and we'll come by to chat again." He looks over the equipment recording her vitals and heartbeat. "Looking good. Would you like to see your partner now?"

Lena nods. "Yes, please."

"I'll have the nurses wheel you to her. We'll need to supervise you a few more days, but if things continue to improve, you'll be home soon enough." He clips the pen back the clipboard and pats her shoulder awkwardly. "Take care, Ms. Luthor. A nurse will be by shortly."

She's not sure why she assumed 'wheel' meant a wheelchair, but she's only a trifle disappointed when the 'wheeling' means the entire bed. For the ride, she tilts the bed to an angle that lets her sort of sit up. Not a full ninety degrees, but an easier one-hundred and fifty degrees.

The trip from the recovery suite to her old hospital room has far too much bright lights, and Lena closes her eyes against the glare.

She opens them when she hears Kara's lovely voice call, "Lena! Oh, gosh, you're okay." Kara stands in her room with Sam. Both stood from where they'd been waiting by the window.

"Hi." Lena lifts a hand in greeting. The technician lines up her bed and rehooks the vitals -- the EKG, oxy-meter, blood pressure cuff, and IV.

"If you have any questions or need something, let us know." The technician nods at Sam and Kara. He places the controls by Lena's hand. "The doctor will be by later. Rest."

After he leaves, Lena takes a steadying breath. "I survived," she says with a hint of pride. The pain simmers still, but it doesn't diminish her relief at finally seeing the end point of this journey.

"You sure did," Sam says, tears in her eyes. "You really need to stop scaring the shit out of us, Lena."

"And leave you complacent?" Lena drawls. "Better to keep you on your toes."

"Lena..." Kara tentatively reaches for her hand, but hesitates.

That won't do. Lena didn't just survive a heart infection for Kara to hesitate.

She grasps Kara's hand and tugs her closer. Her own hand trembles too much, but that's okay. Recovery takes time. She presses Kara's hand over her heart and smiles.

"I'm so glad you're going to be okay," Kara says, tearfully.

"This one was losing her mind waiting." Sam drops back into the armchair. "Almost used up my entire Dad joke catalog. Going to have to devise new ones now."

"I can't wait," Lena says sarcastically. Sam's Dad jokes are the worst, but that's part of Sam's charm.

"She's beating me at them," Kara says with a slight pout. "I tried to come up with some, but she had two to every one of mine."

"A dad joke contest?" Lena doesn't know whether to laugh or roll her eyes at their ridiculousness.

Sam laughs. "Oh yes. Next time, we'll have you and Ruby judge us. Whoever loses has to buy the snacks for the other."

"What?" Kara looks at Sam, mortified. "No way. You'll just buy me healthy snacks. I've seen what you and Ruby eat."

Sam shrugs. "Then don't lose."

Lena can't help it. She laughs. It makes her chest ache. Tears stings her eyes, and an immense gratitude and wonder saturates her. "What would I do without you two?"

"Be extremely bored," Sam says.

"I won't even entertain that," Kara says, firmly. "Life without you is dull and sad."

Lena softens. She's seen what she's like without Kara, and she doesn't ever want to go back to that. She lifts her other hand and tenderly touches Kara's cheek. "Then I'm glad you're here."

The blush tinging Kara's cheeks makes her want to kiss her, but instead she runs her thumb along Kara's lips. Kara kisses her thumb, and Lena feels it through her body.

"You two," Sam says, breaking the moment. "No wonder everyone here keeps using 'partner' for Kara."

She drops her arm as heat warms her face and neck. "Yeah..." she has no idea how to explain to Sam. She didn't know Sam had noticed that.

"And you two just went with it?" Sam glances at the two of them.

"Um... well," Kara sputters. "I just am following Lena's lead, and uh, it's nice?"

"Just nice, huh?" Lena says as she smiles.

Kara flushes again, the red deeper. "Well, uh, more than that, you know, I mean..." she trails off and rubs her thumb over Lena's palm.

"Red looks good on you," Lena teases.

That earns her Kara's characteristic whine. "Lenaaaa...."

"God, you two are sickening." Sam shakes her head. "Here I am, showing up for my best friend, and you're flirting like teenagers in front of my soup."

"You don't have any soup?" Kara says, confused.

Lena chuckles. Her eyes droop shut, the day catching up to her, and she tugs Kara closer so she can wrap her arms around more of Kara's arm. The warmth seeps through her.

Yes, today marks the start of a new chapter. Lena is glad that Kara and Sam are here to help her write it.

[kithj]

the more people complain about genderlocked characters i feel like the more stubborn i get about it...

i just feel like. there's a fine line between wanting to see yourself reflected in the art you engage with (everybody wants this to some extent) versus just straight up refusing to engage with any kind of art that you can't personally relate to.

and sure you can argue it's not that deep when we're just talking about romance games i guess but usually this extends beyond just IF romance games, i see it on bookstagram or in mainstream video gaming circles, too... and particularly in IF & gaming it tends to lead to this very entitled attitude where if the thing doesn't appeal exactly to what you personally want, then it's Bad and Wrong.

i definitely understand in some instances, as a butch lesbian there is like... no game even off the top of my head that i can think of that actually has someone that looks like me in it (except for the stuff i've personally written. lol) and i do really like the gender-selection mechanic for this reason. most of the time it's the only way we get sapphic ROs. but to me that's just a band-aid and not a real solution, especially when a lot of authors tend to lean on bioessentialist ideas to depict the gender-selectable variants, and most of the time don't even seem to be aware that they're doing it.

i would much prefer actual female characters, or actual trans characters, over gender-selectable characters. because the other thing we see is that a lot of the time the male variation is the most popular, and is seen as the "default." this is through no fault of the author, really, it's just how the cookie crumbles, i guess.... i don't really know what the solution is but i do really wish people would be more mindful about... well. all of it. authors and readers alike. and maybe broaden your horizons and read something that's different for you, or write something challenging outside of your comfort zone. i get that a lot of these games are pure wish fulfillment, and that's fine, we're not all going to like or want the same things. but when most games don't include people like me, i'm forced to pick from a much smaller pool of fish than everyone else, and i don't agree with that. both in that i wish there were more options for me, obviously, but also that i shouldn't only limit myself to games that "represent" me and am still willing to reach for something different and still give it a chance. both things can be true.

now when a game is intentionally excluding entire groups of people, of course that needs to be called into question. because then it's just bigotry, and we all know bigotry is bad, yes? a game that... let's say. only allows white mcs. is going to attract a particular kind of audience. we know this we can acknowledge this. but i do also kinda think it's a waste of time to try and appeal to authors like this... i'm not against offering feedback but at the end of the day these authors excluded these people for a reason and they have no interest in us. don't bother. there are other authors out there that are writing women and trans people and poc that you can read instead of trying to get a misogynist or a racist or a transphobe to write about people they clearly don't give a shit about.

and i really feel like that encapsulates why i both like and dislike the gender-selectable mechanic... again it's just a temporary band-aid. it lets me play a sapphic mc for a little while. but the larger problem still remains which is that there are no depictions of butch lesbians (or lesbians in general) in most of these games, and there are not a lot of authors out there willing to even try. there are a lot of instances where i feel the gender-selection mechanic is just... a cop out. there's no thought or effort put into it.

i dont think every single author needs to start genderlocking or anything (that would be stupid) i just wish it was something both authors and readers would spend more time thinking about, rather than just automatically defaulting to gender-selection. people approaching Blood Choke and then complaining that it's all genderlocked but... the story is About being a lesbian. it would not exist in any other way. and the beautiful thing is that you can still read it even if you're not a lesbian! in fact i wish more people would. again, reach for something different and you might find that you actually like it. you might even connect with it in a way that surprises you. meanwhile The Northern Passage has a lot of options for the mc both in the character creator and when it comes to romance options. i have a gender-selectable character there, and a lot of people enjoy that, and i do too. and i also chose to lock Clementine originally because i knew i wanted there to be a nonbinary RO that could not be ignored (and then the other two followed shortly after once i started writing).

there's Nuance. there are lots of reasons to genderlock and there are lots of reasons why someone might not. there are games out there that let me play with an all female cast that i hate, other games with a mixed, genderlocked cast that i love. there are authors out there that do handle their gender-selectable characters well, some of my favorite games utilize it! and there are genderlocked games that are all just skinny white cis people that make me recoil. there are downsides to both. this is not an either-or situation. it's just something to think about, both when creating a character as an author and when engaging with a work as a reader.👍

[cinnamonest]

WELCOME BACK QUEEN‼️‼️ I know you're a p5 and p4 gurlie but..! What about p3? And idk if you've ever played p3p but if you have the female mc you can date a 10 year old little boy <33 My p3 obsession got revived with the release of reload

🍋 anon

I still intend to play Reload, buuuuuut due to now knowing there's no FeMC/no male party member social links, it's dropped just a bit on my priority list... I guess I'll watch playthroughs of the P3P romance routes when I play it.

I think I might go in reverse order and replay P4G, *then* Reload... Although, copypasta aside, I also want to play a real SMT game, just not sure in what order I'll do all of those.

I forgot how absurdly easy Persona combat is (even while playing Royal I was like "wow this is too easy I need to raise the difficulty" only to realize it was already on "merciless" 😭) and SMT is apparently basically post-apocalypse Persona with amped up difficulty so I think I'd like it.

But also, I need you to know that only after typing all of this did I scroll back up to read the rest of the ask and you can do WHAT NOW—

[lucabyte]

On autonomy, and what it means to be Obliged to Help.

Bonus:

[mylittleredgirl]

i realized this definition is missing from my mental glossary, and instead of just asking what it means, i'm making a poll!

none of this has to be an x-reader situation if you engage with your favorite characters in a different way! if you know what it means but don't have one of your own you can still answer with your definition, but i also included an i don't know option at the bottom.

if you have more than one & it's different for different characters i'd love to hear about it and get more confused!!

[nikoisme]

I absolutely adore all the relationships in malevolent, in their nature. They are all canonically platonic, but they are rooted in love and affection. I think that some people still believe that the word love is reserved only for romantic love, especially in media. So seeing the two main characters say that they love the other, that that love saved them, that they were willing to die for each other; who are so close (quite literally, as they share a body) that it's impossible to tell where one begins and where the other ends. Whose circumstances and experiences are so wildly specific and unique that it would be impossible to strictly define the nature of their relationship. Is their relationship perfect? Hell no, they have deeply hurt each other many times. Often they can't stand one another, but also can't stand being without one another. It's messy, it's complicated, but it's real. They try. And it doesn't really matter what their specific definition of love is - they simply love each other. And it just means so much to me, as an aroace person and as someone who has always valued all the friendships i have or have had in general. To see love between two people who have been through hell and back together not treated as just romantic love or as platonic love or whatever - but as simply love. It's their own. With all the beatiful and joyous and messy and painful aspects of it. To say it's just romantic or platonic takes away all the complexities and charm of it, just as is trying to strictly label a lot of the things in the show.

[ansburg]

yall ever read da meta and know that op thought they were cooking. but the post is like this