#so i found it FITting that he was the final one

[requiemforthepoets]

hii do you write for franco? if yes can i request a fic where reader is short and insecure about her height so she’s afraid their relationship won’t survive his “f1 career” cause of the lifestyle and all the girls he’s going to meet so despite really loving him she tries to breakup with him but he won’t let her?

tell me that you’re still mine, tell me that we’ll be just fine 𖦹 FC43

PAIRINGS: franco colapinto x female!reader

SUMMARY: when you found out that franco will be racing for williams racing, you were so proud of him. though at the back of your mind, you can’t help but overthink about your relationship with him now that he’s finally in f1.

AUTHOR’S NOTE: hi! thank you so much for sending your request. it’s my first time writing for franco, but i really had fun. i hope you’ll like this one and it’s up to what you were expecting. enjoy! :)

REMINDERS: this is purely fiction, the way how the character is portrayed in my story does not reflect the person that is portraying my character in real life. always separate fiction from reality, and do not repost or copy my work in any way.

WORD COUNT: 1.6k

WARNINGS: not proofread, typos, insecurities (mostly comparing self to others), cursing, low self esteem, overthinking, anxiety, and no use of y/n

As you stand in the Williams garage, you can clearly hear the hum of the whole circuit buzzing all around, and you can’t help but feel so proud. Franco had just achieved what he had been dreaming of since childhood—his first official race in Formula 1. It should have been one of the happiest moments of your life, watching him stand there, helmet in hand, chatting animatedly with the engineers, that wide grin plastered on his face. You knew how hard he worked for this, how many nights you spent listening to his dreams, encouraging him through the frustrations of karting, and celebrating every win, every milestone. You were there through it all, and here he was now—your Franco, living his dream.

However, alongside the pride that you were feeling, a bitter feeling also crept in. It had been lurking at the back of your mind for days now, only growing stronger with each passing moment. It was not about Franco’s career, but more about where you fit into his new world. The glitz and glamor, cameras that seemed to follow every move, the polished and perfect people that surrounded him—people you had never imagined yourself fitting in with.

Lily, Alex’s girlfriend, had been nothing but sweet to you all weekend. You bonded with her quickly, her kind words and warmth is a welcoming comfort amidst the chaos. Yet, as much as you liked her, being around someone so gorgeous and effortlessly poised had only made you feel even smaller. You weren’t tall or glamorous like her or the other WAGs, nor were you used to the attention, and you barely have a successful career. You were just…you. A university student trying to get by through her classes, someone who barely knew what to do when a camera pointed your way, and someone who couldn’t help but wonder if you were truly cut out for this kind of life.

When Franco finally made his way back to you, you could hardly breathe. He greeted you with that same wide smile and a soft tender kiss on the lips, his eyes still sparkling from the thrill of the race.

“Can you believe it?” He laughed, pulling you into a hug. “I can’t believe I just raced in F1. This is really insane.”

You smiled weakly, arms wrapped around him. Trying to steady your racing heart. “I’m so proud of you,” you murmured against his chest. But the words felt heavy, there was something you needed to say, something you dreaded.

After the media frenzy died down and the team began to clear out, you knew it was time. You asked Franco if the two of you can go to his driver’s room, away from the lights, cameras, and the noise. He nodded and led you towards his driver’s room, completely oblivious to the storm brewing inside of you.

When you reached his driver’s room, he locked the room to give you two some privacy. Franco quickly sensed that something was off with you, immediately frowning.

“What’s wrong?” He asked, as your hands shook as you fumbled with the words. “Franco…I don’t know if I can do this.”

“Do what?” His voice is gentle but confused.

“This. All of this.” You gestured around vaguely. “I don’t belong in this kind of world. I don’t look like the other girls in this kind environment, I don’t act like them. I just feel like…I’m not cut out for this, you know. For you.”

He blinked at you, and then—he laughed. A soft incredulous sound that only made your chest tighten. “You’re joking, right?” But you just shook your head, throat tightening painfully. “I’m serious, Franco.”

His smile faltered, eyes searching your face, and then he grew serious. “You’re breaking up with me?” He sounded like he couldn’t believe what he was hearing at all.

You bit your lip, feeling your resolve crack under the weight of his words. “I think I have to.”

Franco stepped closer, shaking his head in disbelief. “No. No way. Hell no. You’re not doing this.” He grabbed your hands, holding them tightly. “Tell me why. What’s really going on?”

You stared at the ground, unable to meet his eyes. How could you even tell him? How could you put into words the overwhelming insecurities that you had been drowning in.

“I’m not enough for this life, for your life,” you whispered, voice barely audible. “I’m just…me. You deserve someone who can handle all of this, someone who doesn’t feel like they are drowning every time the cameras turn their way. I’m scared that this will change us, that it will change you.”

Franco squeezed your hands tighter, forcing you to look at him. “You’re scared?” He asked softly. “Of what exactly? That I’ll stop loving you because I’m in F1 now?”

You nodded, chest tightening as tears began to fill your eyes. “I’m not like them, Franco. I don’t belong here.”

He pulled you into his arms, resting his chin on top of your head. “Listen to me, and you listen well,” he whispered. “You’ve been with me through everything, literally everything. Since my karting days. You’re the one I want with me, not some random model, not someone from this kind of environment. You.” He gently cupped your face, making sure that you were looking directly into his eyes. “I’m not breaking up with you. Not because of this, not because of anything. I love you so much. If this life makes you uncomfortable, we’ll figure it out. Together.”

You shook your head, still overwhelmed with doubts. “But I don’t know how to—”

“I don’t care,” he interrupted softly. “I don’t really care about any of that. All I care about is you. I’m not losing you just because you think that you’re not enough. You’ve always been more than enough for me.”

Tears finally spilled over, and Franco wiped them away with his thumb. “You’re not getting rid of me that easily, okay?” He added.

You let out a choked laugh, burying your face in his chest. “Okay,” you whispered, feeling the weight of your fears slowly start to lift.

Franco kissed the top of your head as he kept you close, his voice soft but firm. “Look at me,” he said, lifting your chin so your eyes met his. “There’s no one else I see in my future but you. No one else who matters like you do. I don’t care about the noise or what other people say. Let them talk all they want, I don’t give a shit. You’re the most important person in my life.”

His words wrapped around you like a warm blanket chasing away the chill of insecurity. You couldn’t help the way your heart fluttered, how much you wanted to believe him. “But people will judge, Franco. They already are.”

Franco shook his head, brushing a strand of hair away from your face. “I don’t care about them. They don’t know you like I do. I’ve seen you at your best and your worst, and I’ve loved you through it all. That’s what matters, not their opinions.”

You bit your lip, trying to push away the lingering doubts. “It’s just I don’t want to hold you back. You deserve someone who—”

“I already have someone I deserve,” he cut you off, voice unwavering. “You’ve been there for me through everything, you believed in me when no one else did, even when I wasn’t sure I believed in myself. I’m not letting you go because of some stupid insecurities about fitting in with this world. I don’t need someone from this world. All I need is you.”

Tears welled in your eyes again, but this time they weren’t from doubt or fear. They were from the overwhelming love you felt at that moment. “You’re sure?” You whispered, voice trembling. “You’re really sure?”

Franco smiled, the kind of smile that made everything else melt away. “I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life. You’re my future, not them. Not anything else. Just you.”

As you stood there in his arms, you let yourself believe it. Because the way he looked at you, the way he spoke, it left no room for any doubts. You were the one he wanted, and that was enough.

After a long moment of silence, just feeling the comfort of being in his arms, you finally pulled back, wiping the last of your tears and giving him a small and sweet smile. The tension that had been weighing on you had lifted, already been replaced by the familiar warmth you always felt around Franco.

You wrinkled your nose playfully, trying to lighten the mood. “Okay, as sweet as this moment is, you really need to freshen up. You stink.” You teased, giving him a playful nudge.

Franco let out a laugh, the sound light and easy. “What? No way, I smell like pure victory,” he grinned, pulling you back into his arms, purposely trying to rub his post-race sweat on you.

“Franco!” You squealed, trying to push him away. “Ew, Franco! You’re all sweaty!”

He laughed harder, his arms tightening around you for a second before he finally let you go, raising his hands in surrender. “Alright, alright, I’ll go and freshen up,” he said, his grin still wide. “But don’t think I didn’t notice how you were crying on me. If anything, you owe me for that.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help smiling. “Fine, fine. I’ll owe you. Just go clean up before I regret taking you back,” you teased, earning an exaggerated gasp from him.

Franco winked at you before heading off to freshen up, not forgetting to steal a kiss from you. “Don’t go anywhere, I’ve got plans for us to celebrate.” He threw a playful look over his shoulder.

You shook your head with a laugh, feeling lighter than you had in days. The doubts that once felt overwhelming now seemed small in comparison to the love you shared. Franco was right—together, you could figure out everything, just like how you both always do.

[imaginesig]

Blue + Papaya

Pato O'Ward x reader

An F1 and an Indycar driver go on a social media brake....

ynln posted a two stories!

caption: (1) was I paying attention to the totally important sponsor lunch? Mmh yea totally (2) cheers to the absolute champ that is my man @/patriciooward

replies:

maxverstappen1

you're lucky they thought it was cute

old rich people love happy couples!

yea and the champagne you bought the table

hey the sponsored agreed to the next season so 🤷‍♀️

patriciooward

I cannot believe you

dont worry they found our love cute so they agreed

you're ridiculous

but you love me!

I do ❤️

user1

LMAO Y/N

user2

YOU WERE NOT WATCHING INDYCAR AT A WORK LUNCH

user3

y'all are literally my favorite couple ever!!!

patriciooward

liked by ynln, arrowmclaren, user43, and 823,209 others

patriciooward celebrating first 💪

tagged arrowmclaren, ynln

ynln THATS HOW WE DO IT

ynln LETS GO PAPAYA

user3 what a redbull pr nightmare

ynln IM SO PROUD

patriciooward I love you 🤍

ynln I love you too!!!!🤍

arrowmclaren That's our driver 👏🏆

user1 YESSS PATO!!!!

user2 a weekend full of Mclaren wins🧡

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patriciooward posted two stories!

captions: (1) lets go 13!!! (and Mclaren) (2) someone's moms a winner

replies

ynln

I love youuu

I love you tooooo

call me later!!

Will do!

landonorris

thanks for the support 😒

at least I mentioned you

bros before hoes or whatever they say

im ignoring you now

user1

stop this is too cute

user2

"someones mom" I'm gonna cry

ynln

liked by patriciooward, redbullracing, maxverstappen1, and 928,293 others

ynln love to hear that champagne pop!

tagged redbullracing

patriciooward You were incredible! Norbi and I are so proud!!

ynln I love and miss you guys 🤍

danielriccardo what a race!

redbullracing thats our girl 💪💪

ynln admin i love you

maxverstappen1 next time I'll get you

ynln sure sure, whatever you say

user1 great day for YnPato fans

user2 fr i love the double wins

user3 aww the flowers from Pato

user4 hes always on top of things

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twitter

ynln posted a story!

caption: off week(s) I love you already

replies

user1

where you going with that papaya Y/n?

user2

headed to america by any chance?

user3

airport fits always eat

indycar_updates

liked by user1, user5, user84, and 734,939 others

indycar_updates whether you know her from her career in F1 or as Pato O'Ward's girlfriend, a familiar face has been spotted in the paddock

tagged no one

user1 OMG OMG OMG

user2 THEY'RE BACK TOGETHER FINALLY

user3 its a great day or annoying people

user4 she looks so good!!

user5 i love that she has no papaya

user6 shes loyal to rb

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arrowmclaren

liked by ynln, user54, user2, and 928,293 others

arrowmclaren it was an honor to host our Mclaren buddies (and of course of fav Red Bull gets a shout out 😍)!!

tagged oscarpiastri, landonorris, ynln

elbaoward @/ynln you look so cute

ynln I'd be nowhere without your style guidance

redbullracing we lost our girl to the orange team

arrowmclaren its papaya actually

ynln dont fight, this isnt you admin

oscarpiastri thank you for the warm hospitality!

landonorris what a great weekend!

user1 welp looks like girlie came across some merch

user2 we lost her 😔

user3 ok ok but like thats Pato's personal jacket, not just some merch

user2 nevermind them i can be ok with this

load more

ynln

liked by maxverstappen1, patriciooward, user66, and 902,292 others

ynln you look so good in papaya baby 🧡

tagged: patriciooward

redbullracing come home the kids miss you

ynln otw admin 🏃‍♀️🏃‍♀️🏃‍♀️

patriciooward ditto 😉🧡

ynln the only time I will ever be seen

elbaoward hands a little low 🤨

ynln heard loud and clear, won't happen again 🫡

user1 I love that she didnt post a single pic of herself in Mclaren merch/colors

user2 pr dream

user3 I love the first pic

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patriciooward

liked by ynln, oscarpiastri, landonorris, and 928,203 others

patriciooward great results+great company=perfect weekend 🧡🤍

tagged arrowmclaren, ynln, oscarpiastri, landonorris

ynln wonderful race!! I love you

patriciooward thank you for the support! I love you too

landonorris great race!

oscarpiastri it was wonderful meeting you!

arrowmclaren we agree, great company 😁

user1 Im beginning to think Mclaren photoshopped their photo of her, because Y/n hasn't been seen in papaya since 💀

user2 the second photo hand placement 🫠🫠

user3 my fav Mclaren boys all in one place

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ynln

liked by danielriccardo, elbaoward, user94, and 929,0292 others

ynln who doesn't love watching your best friends get married??

tagged patriciooward

patriciooward gorgeous girl 🤍

ynln pretty boy 🤍

user1 ugh they are so attractive

user2 im gonna cry the way he's looking at her in the second pic

user3 so when will y'all attend your own wedding??

user4 fr

elbaoward I second this

ynln LMAO ELBA GET OUT

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patriciooward posted a story!

caption: be my forever wedding date? @/ynln

replies

ynln

anytime baby 🤍

Time Skip

patriciooward

liked by elbaoward, user54, landonorris, and 829,292 others

patriciooward what a season! Thank you @/arrowmclaren for everything!

tagged arrowmclaren, ynln

ynln so so so proud!!!!

patriciooward 🤍

arrowmclaren can't wait for next year 👏👏

patriciooward right back at you!!

user1 next years champion- I can smell it

user2 lets go Pato!!!

user3 ugh this man is too fine

user4 that middle picture is actual goals

user5 my fav couple fr fr

load more

ynln

liked by elbaoward, user43, user92, and 928,029 others

ynln IndyCar, what a season

tagged: patriciooward

ynln alternate caption: save a horse

user1 LMAO Y/N

danielriccardo im blocking you

maxverstappen1 how would admin feel about this

pactriciooward 🤠

pactriciooward thank you for being here for it, near and far 🤍

ynln 🤍🤍

user2 that last photo ma'am 😫

user3 omg their captions match

load more

ynln

liked by danielriccardo, yukitsunoda0511, user25, and 981, 918 others

ynln last moments of peace before its back to work

tagged patriciooward

redbullracing we hope you enjoyed it!!🏕️

Patriciooward unplug and unwind

user1 awww Norbi

User2 I love this!!

User3 this is such a them thing to do

user4 right only Yn and Pato would go camping with his dog on a off week

Load more

patriciooward posted a story!

caption 🤍🤍, 🎶 Keep Driving by Harry Styles

Replies

User1

Orange backpack?? We caught her

User2

Enjoy offseason!!

User3

please travel with Y/n to f1 stuff!!!

f1_updates

liked by user82, user91, user 9, and 718,828 others

f1_updates: Pato O'Ward, Y/n L/n's boyfriend and Arrow Mclaren Driver, has posted several stories proving rumors he's in the paddock today dressed in Red Bull Blue...

tagged no one

User1 please not the selfie in the hospitality bathroom

User2 he may have blue on but we all see the nods to McLaren

user3 they’re both so stubborn abt their teams 💀

user4 OMG OMG OMG

user5 they are literally couple goals

User6 if he wanted to he would

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ynln

liked by user3, danielriccardo, redbullracing, and 918,992 others

ynln the best company in the paddock this week! So happy to get P4, but rest assured I'll come back stronger next time

tagged redbullracing, patriciooward

user1 the last pic HELLO???

user2 they’re too cute

lilmhe glasses Y/n is too cute

Ynln love you lils 🫶🫶

Patriciooward 🤍

Ynln 🤍

user3 such good driving this weekend!!

user4 podium next week??

Load more

patriciooward

liked by Ynln, user42, arrowmclaren, and 982,992 others

patriciooward in a sea of blue I'll bring the papaya

Tagged Ynln, redbullracing

Ynln can’t take the McLaren out of the boy

patriciooward sorry not sorry babe!

redbullracing after our hospitality?? Were hurt

arrowmclaren @/mclaren we’ve trained him well

landonorris right on mate

user1 only Pato

user2 I swear 💀

Load more

Time Skip

ynln and patriciooward

liked by danielriccardo, landonorris, elbaoward, and 918,929 others

ynln 10.13.24

tagged no one

elbaoward my favorites!! I love you guys ❤️❤️

danielriccardo best night ever!

landonorris beautiful couple!!

User1 welp we now know where they’ve been

User2 STOP THEY GOT MARRIED

user3 this was not on my 2024 bingo card

user4 im gonna cry

user5 you know this was a party between all the F1 and indycar drivers 😭

user6 Y/n IS the life of the party

user7 what a power couple

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[vigilante-3073]

Flowers In Bloom

Logan Howlett X Female Mutant Reader

Summary: A glimpse into Logan's life with his significant other.

TW: Pre-established relationship, Logan being a lovesick puppy, mutant abilities, pregnancy.

Logan never expected to get a happy ending for himself. His life had always been filled with anger and pain, a cycle that he believed would continue until his life eventually came to an end. Logan's outlook on his life began to change when he met Y/N L/N through Charles Xavier.

Y/N was a teacher at Xavier's School For Gifted Youngsters and she absolutely loved her job. Y/N had the ability to control plant life and the children loved it.

Logan watched Y/N as she knelt in the grass with one of her students, bright pink flowers sprouting up from the soil around them. The little girl smiled widely, letting out a happy squeal as she spun around in the flowers.

Y/N smiled, carefully picking one of the flowers and tucking it behind the young girl's ear.

Logan found himself smiling softly as he watched her, admiring the woman he had come to love so deeply. Y/N brought him to life and he was finally able to see a future that was different from the one he had always imagined.

Everything Y/N touched turned to light and love, putting Logan at ease in a way that he had never experienced before. He didn't believe in soulmates, but she would definitely be his if he did.

Logan watched the little girl collect the flowers from Y/N before running off to give them to her friends. Y/N observed the girl for a moment before she stood up from the grass, brushing the dirt from her knees.

Y/N was great with kids and Logan hoped that he would be able to give her a child of her own one day. She would be an excellent mother and any kid would be lucky to have her.

Y/N seemed to feel his gaze on her, turning her head in his direction, he watched her face light up when she realized that he had returned from his mission. Y/N ran to him, Logan moved towards her and opened his arms. He caught her as she collided with his chest, holding her tightly in his embrace.

"Missed you so much, baby," He mumbled.

"I missed you too," She replied.

He pulled away slightly, her fingers tangled in the hair on the nape of his neck, bringing his lips to her's in a passionate kiss. Logan's hands shifted to rest on her hips, thumbs circling her hipbones gently as they kissed.

"Mister Logan," A soft voice called, the pair broke apart quickly. Logan smiled at the bright red flush that darkened Y/N's cheeks at the interruption.

"What can I do for you, bub?" Logan asked, looking down at the young girl.

"Do you want a flower? Miss Y/N grew them," She said, holding up a pink flower.

"She did, huh? Then I definitely have to have one," Logan said, accepting the flower from the girl, "Thank you, little miss," He said.

"You're welcome," The girl chirped before running off to hand out the remaining flowers.

Logan brought the flower up between them, spinning the stem between his thumb and forefinger before carefully tucking it behind Y/N's ear.

"Beautiful," He muttered, leaning in to give her another kiss.

...

Y/N moved through the hallways of the school with a large stack of books in her arms. She had raided Xavier's library for some resources to use in her lesson for the day.

Y/N shifted the books in her arms, struggling to manage the weight, "Need a hand, baby?" Logan asked, stepping out of one of the various classrooms.

"That would be great actually," Y/N said, Logan took the heavy stack of books from her and tucked them under his arm. His other hand quickly founds her's, fingers fitting together easily as he walked her through the mansion towards her classroom.

Y/N shifted closer to his side as they walked, "What do you need all these books for anyways?" He asked.

"Mushrooms," Y/N said simply.

"You need this many books to explain a fungus?" Logan asked, looking down at her with a raised eyebrow.

"There is a lot that people don't know about mushrooms. They're actually pretty cool," She said.

"Maybe I'll stay for the lesson then," He said.

"Really?" Y/N asked, an excited smile spreading across her face.

"I could listen to you talk all day long and never get bored," Logan said, her cheeks flushed.

"You're sweet," Y/N replied, giving his hand a gentle squeeze.

"Only for you," He stated.

Logan released her hand as they approached her classroom, opening the door for her. Logan allowed her to enter the room first before following after her.

Every available surface of her classroom was lined with plants, the bright colors and vivid greenery making the room look like a jungle.

Logan set the stack of books on the edge of her desk, "How much time do we have before your next class starts?" He asked.

"About twenty minutes, why?" She asked.

Logan's hands quickly found her hips, spinning her body around and backing her up against the nearest wall, "Just want you to myself for a bit," He said, leaning in and pressing his lips to her's.

Y/N smiled into the kiss, wrapping her arms around his neck and pulling his body closer to herself. Logan slid his hands from her hips to settle on the small of her back as he tilted his head, deepening the kiss.

He pulled away slightly, "Baby, I got something to ask you," Logan said. Y/N's hands slid down from around his neck to rest against his chest. Her fingers tangled around the chain of his dog tags, "Can you kiss me some more before you ask whatever you need to ask?" She questioned breathlessly.

Logan smiled, "I think I can manage that," He said, leaning in and pressing his lips to her's again.

His hands slid up underneath the material of her shirt, his touch heating up her skin and making her heart race. She tugged on his dog tags, pulling him closer before her hand slid up to rest on the back of his neck.

Logan pulled away, watching her pout at the loss of contact, "I gotta ask my question, baby," He said, hands returning to her hips and giving them a gentle squeeze.

"What's your question?" Y/N asked.

"Will you marry me?" He questioned, her eyes widened, "Logan, are you- Are you serious?" She asked softly.

He slipped his hand into the pocket of his jacket, pulling out the small velvet box and flipping it open before holding it up in front of her. The engagement ring glittered in the light, "Marry me, baby," He repeated.

"Yes, yes, of course I'll marry you," Y/N said shakily, happy tears gathering in her eyes.

Logan smiled, pressing a quick kiss to her lips as he plucked the engagement ring from the box. He took her hand and slid the ring onto her finger carefully.

She smiled, wrapping her arms around his neck and pulling him in for a tight embrace. He wrapped his arms around her waist, hugging her tightly and burying his face in the crook of her neck.

"I love you," He said.

"I love you too. I love you so much," She replied.

...

Logan made his way across the grounds of the mansion towards the greenhouse. The sun had set a few hours ago and a chill was beginning to settle in as night fell. Dew lined the grass, dampening the material of his pants as he walked.

He approached the greehouse, opening the door and stepping inside. The air was warm and humid, the string lights casting a soft yellow glow over the rows of plants.

Y/N was standing in front of a collection of strawberry plants, holding her palms over the soil and watching the vines grow, weaving themselves through the metal trellises that had been wedged into the dirt of each pot.

Logan made his way over to her, "Bit late for gardening, don't you think?" He questioned.

"I couldn't get to sleep... The baby kept kicking and she wouldn't settle. I think she could tell that you were away," Y/N replied, watching the green strawberries on the vines ripen into bright red ones.

"I'm sorry," He said.

"For what?" Y/N questioned, looking over at him.

"She's been giving you a lot of grief," Logan said, nodding to her swollen belly.

"It's nothing I can't handle," She smiled reassuringly.

"I know... I just wish that I could do more for you," Logan said, moving closer to his wife.

A sudden feeling of nausea washed over her and she turned her head away, squeezing her eyes shut as she gulped.

"What is it?" Logan asked gently, hand resting on the small of her back.

"If you want to do something to help," She started.

"Yes, anything," Logan replied instantly.

"The smell of your cigars has been making me really nauseous," She said.

"How long has that been going on?" He asked.

"Since I was about six weeks along," She admitted hesitantly.

"Why didn't you say something sooner?" Logan asked.

"I thought that it would pass and it hasn't," She said.

"I'll quit tomorrow," He replied, leaning in and pressing a kiss to her temple.

"Thank you, honey," Y/N said.

"You don't have to thank me... You're growing our kid, I'll do whatever you need me to," He stated.

"I really want to kiss you but-" "The smell, I know... Tell you what, why don't we head up to the house? I can shower and then we can go to bed, how does that sound?" He offered.

"That would be amazing," Y/N replied.

"Good, let's get you to bed, baby," Logan said, taking her hand in his.

They walked up to the mansion and made their way through the hallways to their bedroom. Logan hopped into the shower as Y/N got changed and settled herself in their shared bed.

Y/N read a chapter of her book before Logan emerged from the bathroom, water droplets clinging to his skin and a towel wrapped snugly around his hips. Y/N stared at him over the top of her book, watching him change into a pair of boxers and pyjama pants.

Y/N set her book aside as he hung up his towel before making his way over to her. Y/N smiled, holding up her hands and cradling his jaw as she met his lips in a gentle kiss.

"That's the stuff," He mumbled against her lips before leaning in for another kiss. His fists pressed against the mattress on either side of her body, tilting his head to deepen the kiss.

Logan pulled away, pressing a quick kiss to her forehead before getting himself underneath the covers on his side of the bed. He laid down and Y/N quickly moved closer to him, laying down with her body pressed against his side and her head resting on his chest.

Logan wrapped his arm around her waist, his other hand settling on her bump. The baby kicked harshly against his hand, "Wow, you weren't kidding about those kicks," He chuckled.

"Yeah, feels like she's gonna start leaving bruises soon," Y/N said.

"Only a few more months until we get to meet her," Logan said, his thumb rubbing back and forth across her skin gently.

"Two months tomorrow," Y/N sighed.

"Two? Wow, that's coming up fast," He said.

Y/N nodded, "I know you're going to be great, honey. She loves you already," She said.

"Well, I don't think she could find a better mom than you even if she tried," Logan stated.

"I love you," Y/N said with a soft smile.

"I love you too, baby," Logan replied, pressing a kiss to the top of her head.

[stevesgother]

Dress - S.H

Paring - Steve Harrington x Fem!Reader

WC - 1.5k

Summary - 2 times Steve Harrington has lost his mind seeing you in a dress that fits you like skin, and the one time he does something about it.

Contains - best friends to lovers, mutual pining, reader is pathetically in love, loosely based off of ‘Dress’ by Taylor Swift. Or maybe heavily based lol

Warnings - steve & reader ARE 18 in this, they just haven’t graduated yet, drinking, vomit. As always, let me know if I missed anything

AN - THIS IS PART 1 OF A WIP. second fic…ever! also my first mini series! i was gonna make it all one fic but i figured it would be easier to digest this way. enjoy :)

Senior Prom - May 1985

Michael Cooper. That’s who was waiting for you downstairs in your foyer, sweet talking your parents while he waited to escort you to your final high school dance. He wasn’t your first choice for your senior prom, hardly even your second; but he was respectable enough for you to be seen on his arm for one night.

Taking one last look at yourself in your vanity mirror, you smoothed your hands down the front of your dress. It was a beautiful baby pink ball gown with lace trim and puffy sleeves. Before you can think better of it, before you can feel guilty for it, you imagine Steve’s reaction when he sees you tonight.

Steve Harrington. Your best friend since diapers. Your mothers grew up together, so naturally when they found out they were pregnant at nearly the exact same time, it only made sense that they would orchestrate your friendship immediately.

As it turns out, not much orchestrating would be required. The second your little baby brains could comprehend what it meant to love another person, the rest was history. Wherever you went, Steve went too. You’re not sure when your feelings for him started to change. The usual calm that washed over you whenever you were in his presence one day seemed to transform into something different. You felt nervous, like someone had released a net of butterflies into your stomach.

You clear your head with a harsh shake and grab your clutch off the bed, making your way downstairs. Michael is waiting for you with a green corsage in a shiny translucent box. ‘That's Sweet,’ you think, “if only it matched my dress.’ 

–

Upon arriving at the gym, the first thing you do, consciously or not, is scan the room for your best friend. You spot him quickly, his perfectly manicured hair and well-pressed suit making him hard to miss. Even harder to miss is the gorgeous, curly haired brunette resting her head on his shoulder.

Nancy Wheeler.

They’ve been together for over a year at this point, even joining your close knit circle of friends. Despite this, you can’t help the nagging sense of jealousy stabbing at your chest, making your face heat up. You tell yourself it’s the humidity inside the gymnasium, and not the fact that you’d give anything to be in her position. You quickly abandon your date and try not to feel guilty for it, making your way over to the happy couple.

“Steve!” You call as you come further into their line of sight.

“Hey you!” Steve stands and gives you a tight hug. “Hey!’ you greet, returning the embrace. He can’t help the way his eyes quickly travel down the expanse of you, noticing the shape this dress gives your body. He prays to any listening God that his girlfriend didn’t notice, that you didn’t notice. “Hey Nance.” You address her with a polite smile. She gives you a hug without warning. Another thing that irks you about Nancy Wheeler: that girl is impossible to hate. You have every reason to despise her, and yet you can’t. She’s kind, funny, strong-willed and beautiful. She’s so ‘girl next door’, she’s so…not you. Occasionally you’ve wondered if it’s a front, that she can’t possibly be that perfect.

“Where’s Michael?” She asks inquisitively; like she genuinely cares where your douchebag date has run off to. A quick scan of the room reveals he’s already talking up another girl by the photobooth. There’s not one part of you that gives a shit. “We were just thinking about grabbing some food, wanna come with?” Steve nods his head toward the various appetizers they have set up on tables decorated with gaudy tinsel and tablecloths. “Yeah, why not?”, you smile and it doesn’t reach your eyes.

–

An hour and 2 cups of spiked punch later, ‘Heaven’ by Bryan Adams starts to play and you feel like you might hurl. Nancy’s face quickly lights up and she gives her date a knowing look, “Steve! Let's dance! Please??”. She’s immediately pulling him away from the table where you’ve been watching them flirt all night. Her delicate hand resting on his bicep, his large one finding a home on her thigh. He sends you a sympathetic look as he rises; sorry that he has to leave you there, sorry that you won’t be slow dancing with anyone tonight. He has no idea.

Your date is long gone. The two of you going together was a ticket inside and nothing more.

The air in the gym is suffocating and frankly smells of sweaty basketball shorts, so you decide to make your way outside for some fresh air. The romantic serenade of Bryan Adams’ voice is nothing more than a quiet lullaby as you lean against the brick wall of your high school.

You hear him before you see him. “Hey stranger,” the open door momentarily lets the humidity escape and you feel it wash over your skin. “you alright?” he asks with a half smile.

“Yeah just,” you say looking around, “getting some air is all,” returning the expression. He imitates you and decides to lean on the wall, a little too close for comfort. You’re all but slapped across the face with his scent. Cinnamon, a no doubt expensive musky cologne, and sweat. You can feel him looking at you, so you decide to meet his gaze; praying that he can’t see the crimson shade of red creeping up your neck and cheeks simply from standing next to him. You feel so pathetic at times like these. 

“Nance found a couple of her girlfriends, figured it’d be a good time for a smoke.” He pulls a cigarette out of his suit jacket pocket, and lights it. His hand cupped to cover the breeze.

“Those’ll kill ya, you know?” you smirk, knowing. You’ve always teased him for his bad habits, especially this one. “Yeah well,” he says in an inhale, “now’s as good a’ time as any, right?”

He grins at you, smug. It sends you reeling and you hope your thundering heartbeat doesn’t give you away. Maybe it’s just the alcohol.

After a few minutes of silence, he stomps his cigarette out on the pavement and turns to fully face you. 

“You’re beautiful, you know that?”

His words steal the breath from your lungs and your breath hitches in your throat.  Steve’s complimented you before, thousands of times. So why does this feel like you’ve just been slammed into a wall of concrete?

“Steve…”

You feel like he’s getting closer. You’ve definitely had too much to drink.

Before you can stop yourself or even comprehend what’s happening, you vomit all the contents of your stomach directly onto Steve’s perfectly polished loafers. He yelps, most in surprise, slightly in horror. Despite that undeniable foulness of the situation, his hands immediately move to hold your hair back, just in case you aren’t, well, finished. 

You don’t realize it, but you’ve started crying. “Hey, hey, it’s alright. You’re okay,” he soothes, rubbing a hand up and down your back. “Let’s get you home, yeah?” He starts to lead you to his car in the parking lot, leaving you here alone not an option for him. “What about Nancy?” you sob, “I’ll come back and get her, honey. Don’t worry.” Honey. You almost puke again.

Once he settles you into the passenger seat of his pristine BMW, you watch as he toes off his shoes and throws them in the garbage. When he slides into the driver's seat and turns on the ignition, he turns and brings a palm up to cradle your jaw. “Guess I’m gonna have to keep an eye on ya next time,” he chuckles, “can’t handle your mildly spiked punch.” You groan, but give a breathy chuckle of your own, “Just drive, Harrington.”

When you arrive home, you breathe a sigh of relief at the lack of your family car in the driveway. Your mother would certainly pitch a fit if she saw you like this - mascara streaked down your face, an obnoxious yellow stain down the front of your once flawless dress. Steve leads you upstairs with a hand on the small of your back, and a palm cradling your elbow. You know you’re not drunk, and you’re almost positive that wasn’t the reason you spilled your guts. But the alternative to just letting Steve take care of you would be admitting that you love him, that you’re in love with him.

You don’t bother taking your makeup off, Steve just helps you change into an old t-shirt and a pair of sleep shorts. “Lights on or off?” He asks as he pulls the covers up and over you, “Off, please.” he gives you a little two-finger salute, “you got it.” Just as he’s reaching underneath your lamp shade you whisper, “Steve?” he looks, “yeah trouble?” “I’m sorry for ruining your night…and throwing up on your shoes.” you give a sheepish look. Even though he would have every right to be, you know he’s not mad at you.

“You didn’t ruin anything,” he leans down and presses a kiss to the crown of your head,”the shoes we can discuss at a later date,” he shoots you a wink, making sure you know he’s only teasing.

“Thank you, Steve.”

“Goodnight, sweetheart.”

Without another word he closes the bedroom door, bathing you in darkness. Just before you succumb to sleep, you’re filled with dread at the thought that you’re gonna remember this in the morning.

Cheers to senior year.

[moyazaika]

omg doe brought up this AMAZINGGG idea abt the crime lord yan and his lawyer darling hello hey hi!!!!!!

this kinda got away from me because it is 3am but i nEEEEEDED to get this out bjsjsjjs i blame @carnivorousyandeere

i know i wrote the initial dynamic for his darling to be his lawyer, in that they’re on his side in court to keep him from getting sent to prison BUT BUT BUT hear me out T_T

lawyer darling who put yan kingpin away.

as in ,, you are the reason he was found guilty. you are the one, when the judge announced the final verdict, that his gaze turned to and that he smiled for, then. sentenced to death, before it was appealed to multiple life sentences; the beginning of the end of his empire.

you, you, you — the cause of his downfall.

after the infamous internationally documented case, your career soars to unprecedented heights. you’re the lawyer on every newspaper in every country, all the tv channels and glossy magazines. every law school wants you to speak at their graduation ceremonies. every firm’s reaching out to you. the whole world knows your name; you have everything!

—so why do you keep going back to the man who now has nothing?

the kingpin looks the same as he did that fateful day in court. only now, there’s bags under his eyes, and a five o clock shadow on his jaw; lips still curled in an easygoing smile. he laughs when he sees you, as if the two of you were merely old friends who hadn’t caught up in a while.

as if you’re not visiting him years later in the city’s most high security prison.

he grins. “come to gloat, have ‘ya?”

“you’ve committed countless crimes.” you state. “stolen lives and livelihoods. broken up families. killed good men. and still, all these years later, no remorse?”

“don’t get ‘yer panties in a twist,” he huffs, lazily leans back in the rickety prison chair so that he’s swinging it back and forth on its back legs, like a child. how absurd that even the garish orange uniform of a prison should suit him, “comes with the job description, don’t it?”

“i think about you,” you admit, eyeing the chains that bind his handcuffed hands to the desk in front of him. you look up, meet his gaze through the thick, dirty pane that separates you from him. keeps you safe. out of his reach, if only just.

a low whistle. “you sure know how to make a man feel special, y’know. been followin’ your cases. never put another one like me away, did ‘ya?” he grins. “i like that i’m special. makes me feel all warm ‘nd fuzzy inside.”

“wow,” you let out. “you really have gone insane.”

“always been a ‘lil crazy! like i said, part of the job description. though i’ve been thinkin’ recently,” he starts.

your fascination prompts you to lean closer. a sort of morbid curiosity that yearns to solve the puzzle of his twisted mind, slot the pieces you’ve already got in a way that makes them fit. you’ve got this weird feeling that you’re missing something. a big piece, maybe. one of the central ones.

“thinking about what?” your voice is barely above a whisper, almost conspiratorial. he leans in, too, all wide eyes—

—and then he jerks forward with the chains around the cuffs on his wrists pulled taut as he suddenly yanks them all the way, like a feral dog pulling on its leash. he looks like one, too, with that glint in his eyes.

“fuck!”

you barely even register that you’re on the floor until he laughs, low in his throat. he makes a vague gesture to your chair, toppled over on its side.

“oops.” he says, coyly. “didn’t mean to scare ‘ya.”

“liar,” you hiss, standing up to dust yourself off. this was stupid. why would you even entertain the idea of a civil conversation with a madman?

he gasps dramatically. “this is slander, your honour!”

“i’m leaving,” you scoff. “i don’t even know why i even came down here. you’re clearly fucking crazy.”

“and you’re no fun!” he pouts. “how ‘bout you stay just a little longer and i’ll make it worth ‘yer time, pretty please?”

“no can do,” you turn on your heels and reach for the door, fingers curled around the handle as you spare him one final glance over your shoulder— “have fun rotting in here for the rest of your life, psycho.”

—except the door won’t open. you try again, and again once more. the handle won’t budge. an awful sense of urgency overcomes you as you desperately shake the handle in a futile attempt to get it to just—

“funny ‘yer calling me crazy, ‘cus einstein once said real insanity is doin’ the same thing,” he beams. “over and over and over and over again, and expecting different results. door’s locked, lovely. ‘yer not getting out from there, ‘m afraid.”

you turn back then, still holding onto that door like a lifeline. he’s standing up, rubbing sore wrists that are, you realise with a sinking feeling, no longer bound by the handcuffs that kept him chained; on a short leash, like a good dog.

“what are you doing…?” your voice shakes, and it’s a far cry to the headstrong, unwavering lawyer who put the world’s most notorious criminal behind bars. “what the fuck—”

“i told you i’d make it worth your while t’stay,” he rolls up his sleeves, before pushing all of his hair (longer and greasier than the last you saw him) out of his face, features set in a determination you’ve never glimpsed before. familiar eyes twinkle with mischief. “and i meant it, y’know. the world’s very best lawyer came so far to see me! least i can do is greet ‘em properly.”

“‘cus see, the other prisoners wouldn’t be so nice. but i’ve been thinkin’ about you too.” he pulls his arm back and his fist comes flying at the pane. “don’t wanna have a conversation or nothin’ like that, nah, we talked enough.”

“you’ve been thinking about me, i’ve been waiting around for you…” bloody knuckles against cracks in the one barrier that is keeping you safe from him. you watch, helpless, as it threatens to break beneath the brute force of his trained fists.

“now let me just come over there,” he pulls his arm back again, ready to strike; knuckles raw and red, like the maniacal grin carved onto his pretty, flushed face. a deep blush and a shaky smile as those fists bring it all crashing down. “and show you how much i missed my faaavourite lawyer in the whole wide world.”

“—that be a good enough reason to stick around?” he asks slyly, before catching himself. “oh, silly me.” he shakes his head, apologetically, as he steps over broken shards on the floor, tainted with his blood. “doesn’t matter what ‘ya say.” a low hum when scarred hands reach out for you. “i waited so long for you…”

“… so, let’s make up reaaalllll good for all that lost time, okay?”

[aviiarie]

cws & notes: reader (and kaveh) are VERY implied to be aromantic or on the aromantic spectrum. mentions of kissing. lots of platonic affection. platonic kaveh & gn!reader. 1.1k words. wrote this for myself tbh

“So are you two dating?”

You wish you could say it's the first time you've heard the question. And you wish you could bring yourself to be annoyed about hearing it again, but you know there's no malice or spite in the words. Only a polite sort of curiousity, unaware of the way your stomach turns at the thought.

And maybe you wish you could tell Nilou 'no, we're not, why would you think that?' but you know your hand is intertwined with his, and his knee is touching yours, and you have his cheek leaning against the top of your head. You know how it looks, but that never mattered. It felt comfortable, like you fit together just right. Affectionate, with no strings attached.

That was the part that no one seemed to get. You and him were at an understanding that seemed to make sense to no one but yourselves; the squeezing hugs, and nicknames, and nights spent staying up until 3am didn't mean a thing. When you fell asleep on his shoulder, when he chastely kissed you goodbye before leaving on a work trip, it wasn't because you both harboured a secret love you were too shy to say out loud.

You adored him, of course. He was your best friend. But that was it; no strings.

There were always those who couldn't wrap their heads around the thought, the ones who insisted that they had to be at least into each other a little bit. So much time spent being friends, such closeness had to speak to a blossoming romance that just hadn't quiet bloomed yet, right?

What they didn't know was you had tried, your senior year at the Akademiya. It was after all of the comments about how odd it was that they were so close without being a couple finally started to get to them. During a party hosted by a classmate you don't remember the name of, when the teasing and jabs had gotten a little too much, you had found him taking a breather out on the front steps.

Conversation came easily, comfort came quietly, and soon the topic shifted to what people were saying. It was always talk, rumours, gossip. But he could see how they were weighing on you. He could see the look of doubt in your eyes, wondering if this was something you were supposed to want.

If you can't bring yourself to fall for the most important person in your life, then what was wrong with you? Was love a prize that you were never going to win, a lock that you're never going to find the key for?

“Will you kiss me?” You blurted out, and his eyebrows raise. “J-Just once. I just... everyone keeps telling me I'm supposed to like you, and you're supposed to like me, but I just...”

“You want to see?” Kaveh asked hesitantly. You swallow, and nod. “I don't want to do something you don't want to do.”

“I want to. Please, I... I don't want to ask anyone else.” You paused, before quietly adding on, “If there's truly something wrong with me, I want to know now.”

The pinch between Kaveh's eyebrows deepened, but there was a flicker of vulnerability behind his eyes. Some part of him was flashing with the same fear, wondering if there was something wrong with him too, all because he couldn't muster up enough emotion to see you in a romantic light.

Carefully, he placed his hand on your cheek, bringing your face closer to his. There was a pause, before he met your lips in an awkward kiss. There were no sparks that crackled against your mouth, no butterflies in your stomach. It was a unpleasant clashing of teeth together, with your cracked lips pressing against his soft ones for a second too long.

You pull away, face flushed with embarrassment more than anything. “I... I don't think I want to do that again.”

“Me neither.” Kaveh grimaced. He sighed, leaning back to give you a bit more space. “Why do you worry so much about what they say?”

“Because! I'm supposed to enjoy it, aren't I?” There were tears in your eyes, but you didn't care. If there was one person you could cry around, it was him. “What is wrong with me? Why can't I even fake it?”

“You don't need to!” Kaveh said quickly. He ran his hand through his hair in frustration. “Maybe... maybe some people just don't like that sort of love. I know I sure don't, and I've known you long enough to figure out you don't either. We don't have to be a couple to care about each other, right?”

You stared at him, slightly dazed. “...I guess not.”

And since that night, you've never been able to forget his words, and the way he said them. It was like your world got shifted around, and nothing seemed quite the same. All the stress about love, all the worry about whether people thought you were a couple seemed so insignificant all of a sudden.

Yet, your new lighter worldview never stopped that burning question, that followed the pair of you like a shadow.

“So, are you two dating?”

The question echoes in your head, sounding over and over. Nilou is still staring at you, waiting for an answer, although her gaze occasionally flicks to your linked hands resting on his lap.

“We're just friends,” Kaveh responds smoothly. He lets go of your hand long enough to wave away the question, laughing lightly. “Honestly, the amount of times I've been asked that...”

“O-Oh!” Nilou's eyes widen, and her cheeks turn pink. Part of you feels bad for making her look so flustered, but the uncomfortable twist in your gut reminds you that it was her question that started it in the first place. “I didn't mean to assume... you just look so close!”

“We are.” He smiles gently. “But I can assure you we are very happy as friends. Neither of us are interested in that sort of relationship, much less with each other.”

She nods, as if she understands, but there's still confusion behind her expression.

It didn't matter. People didn't have to get what was so special about the two of you. They didn't have to understand what you had, and what you lacked, and why it didn't make much of a difference at all.

You were friends, best friends. And that was plenty enough love for the both of you.

© aviiarie 2024. do not copy, repost, translate or use my work to train ai

[leahrintarou]

Hello can I get for Dabi x Fem!Reader when Reader wakes up in bed without him and she hears him in the kitchen making coffee or tea and she leans against the doorway and stares at him shirtless, because she loves his body so much especially his back and chest and abs, and she hugs him from behind. And touches his abs and stuff and he's obviously his smug self. And Reader just wants cuddles and he turns to hug her back. And it's so fluffy and sweet

✩₊˚.⋆ CHAMOMILE TEA - dabi/touya todoroki

CW: sweet sweet fluff, fem reader, fluff, he's his sarcastic and authentic self, fluff, and some more tooth-rotting fluff.

Word Count: 989

Author's Note: this was such a cute idea :') i enjoyed writing it and i hope you all enjoy reading it! tysm and make sure to send in a request if you have any in mind! also, i head cannon that bro drinks tea bc his vocal chords are fucked lol.

the cool temperature of the air surrounding her suddenly began to feel more dramatic as seconds passed by. with her eyes still closed, y/n felt around the bed, hoping to meet the familiar warmth of her boyfriend. unfortunately for her, that contact never came, leaving her cold—and now annoyed and worried.

her eyes shot open as she scanned the dim room. shadows and streaks of sunlight peeked through the blinds, casting just enough light to check the area, but still, she didn't see him. with a huff, she stood from the bed, the fabric of dabi's loose t-shirt hanging off her frame. she took slow, careful steps out of the room, the scent of chamomile tea drifting into her senses.

her nerves eased, but not because of the tea’s calming properties. it was the familiarity—the scent that dabi would brew every once in a while. eventually, she'd grown so accustomed to it that she'd ask for her own cup. now, dabi made two cups out of habit, whether or not y/n was around. he pretended to be annoyed, but deep down, y/n knew he didn’t really mind when she teased him about it.

y/n's shoulders relaxed as her gaze finally found the defined muscles of her boyfriend’s back. his ivory skin stood in contrast to the purplish hued scars that told the tale of flames clashing against the limits of his body.

those same molten-patterned scars traced along his abdomen, his neck, and down his arms. y/n couldn’t see all of them from where she stood, but each one was etched into her memory. she took quiet, careful steps forward, arms lifting to wrap around his middle. the instant her palms pressed against his toned abdomen, warmth flooded back into her body. dabi let out a low sigh as her fingers lightly traced over his skin.

"you're finally up," he muttered, voice still rough from sleep but soothed by the tea he took slow sips from.

"you left me to freeze to death," she muttered, resting her head against his back, her tone half-pouting.

dabi chuckled, the sound low and amused, as he took another sip. "oh, come on, drama queen," he said, smirking to himself. "you act like i was gone for hours and left you in the arctic."

y/n’s arms tightened around him, her fingertips grazing the ridges of his scars, tracing them with a familiarity that made his chest tighten just a bit. "you know i hate waking up without you there," she mumbled into his skin, her breath warm against him.

he placed the cup on the counter, his free hand casually covering hers, his thumb tracing lazy circles over her skin. "yeah, well, i couldn’t sleep," he said, his voice dripping with faux indifference. "figured i’d make some tea since it’s apparently the only thing that keeps me from going nuts around here."

she hummed softly, eyes closing as she pressed closer to him, her body fitting against his. "next time, wake me up," she said quietly, though her words carried a more playful challenge.

dabi turned just enough to glance over his shoulder at her, his lips curling into that cocky, knowing smirk. "so you can whine about being woken up too early? yeah, sure, sounds like fun."

y/n rolled her eyes but smiled, her lips brushing his back. "actually, I just prefer you not to sneak off and leave me freezing," she shot back, her voice filled with exaggerated irritation. "you’re the space heater around here, remember?"

dabi chuckled, amused by her response. "ah, so that’s what this is about? you just want to use me for my body, huh?"

"obviously," she retorted, her tone teasing. "you think i keep you around for your oh-so charming personality?"

he let out a low laugh, slipping out of her hold with that same smug grace. turning to face her, he leaned down, pressing a slow, deliberate kiss to her forehead as a palm met with her cheek. "tell you what," he said, his tone dripping with mock charm. "i’ll make it up to you with some tea—exactly how you like it. aren’t i just the best?"

y/n raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. "tea’s great and all, but it doesn’t keep me warm for long."

dabi’s smirk deepened, eyes glinting with that familiar mischievous spark. "oh, so you need me to keep you warm forever, huh? alright, sweetheart. deal."

y/n smirked, tilting her head slightly as she crossed her arms. "well, forever might be a stretch. you’ve got your moments, but I’m not trying to roast like a marshmallow every night."

dabi raised an eyebrow, his grin widening as he leaned in closer, voice dropping to a teasing whisper. "careful what you wish for. you might start liking the heat."

y/n snorted, rolling her eyes but unable to hide her smile. "right, because nothing says romance like third-degree burns."

dabi smirked, not missing a beat. "hey, at least you'll always have a reminder of me. permanent, just like i promised."

y/n laughed, shaking her head. "oh, how sweet. a love story for the ages—scars and all."

he shrugged, his grin widening as he pulled her closer. "you love it. keeps things interesting, doesn’t it?" she raised an eyebrow at those words, giving him a playful nudge. "sure, if by ‘interesting’ you mean constantly babysitting a walking fire hazard."

dabi huffed, his hand coming up to gently cup her face, his tone turning softer. "lucky for you, I’m your fire hazard. guess that makes us even—since you’re the only one who can put up with me."

y/n’s playful smirk softened, her arms slipping around his waist again as she rested her head against his chest. "yeah, well, you’re stuck with me. flames and all."

"wouldn't have it any other way," he murmured, pressing a kiss to the top of her head, the warmth between them more than enough now.

got a request? send it in and i'll write it :D

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[jongseobsgf]

jongseob x chubby!reader

warnings: hurt/comfort, insecurities, kissing, jongseob is so sweet, so sweet i might gag, kinda very self insert,

(warning, i’m a nsfw blog so even though this post is sfw, keep that in mind !!)

a typical date night with you and jongseob. he took you out to a fancy restaurant, and had booked a table in the far corner away from everyone’s sight.

you always found it a bit weird — sure, you knew he liked privacy and you wanted some too, but it still made you feel uneasy. why did he always book a table at a spot no one could see you? did he not want to show you off? was he embarrassed to be seen with you? was it because of your weight?

yeah, it might be your own insecurities weighing you down and making you overthink, but was it really?

tonight had been no different. it was your anniversary date — yet your table was still hidden from all eyes.

you had put on your prettiest dress, matched it with your prettiest jewerly, you had even spent hours on doing your hair as perfect as possible.

yet he still kept you hidden.

—

jongseob notices something being off when you don’t even do so much as to look at the dessert he ordered for you two to share. he thought it would be a romantic idea to do, and he knew you loved when he did romantic things for you.

jongseob takes a deep breath, gently reaching his hand over the table to rest it on top of yours. ”what’s wrong?” he asks.

you swallow thickly, not looking anywhere near him.

”talk to me, angel,” he whispers softly.

”are you embarrassed of me? you don’t want people to see me? is that why you’re hiding me from others? why you always get us a table from a hidden spot?” you blurt out, finally lifting your gaze to look at him.

”no, it’s.. wait what?” he stammers. ”you think i’m embarrassed to be seen with you?”

you nod, feeling a lump form in your throat, tears already threatening to fall. he notices this, quickly cupping your face to wipe your tears with his thumbs.

”baby, that’s not the case at all. i thought you knew why i did this,” he says softly.

”what do you mean?” you ask, voice shaky.

”i’m sorry, baby, i should’ve explained it to you. i love taking you out, you know, and i want to be able to do it as normal as i can so.. this is just a safety caution,” he speaks, softly. ”i would show you off all the time if it wasn’t dangerous.. because with my job being what it is, i can’t put you in danger by showing you off. the ’fans’ can be crazy, you know?” he frowns slightly.

you look down again, not buying it. you can’t help the thoughts from coming up. would he hide a skinny girl like this?

”baby, look at me,” jongseob murmurs. you lift your gaze up at him.

”i love you, you know that, right?” he says softly. ”i love all of you. i’m not trying to hide you because i’m embarrassed of you, because i’m absolutely not embarrassed. i wish i could show you off, hype you up to everyone but… i can’t. for your safety, and for my safety, this is what i have to do. and i’m sorry for that.”

”what if i was skinny?” you ask quietly.

”oh, sweetheart,” he sighs softly, caressing your cheek. ”it’s not about your weight or anything like that. i’d have to do this, no matter what you look like, i’d have to keep you safe.”

your tears start flowing freely, and he quickly gets up and rushes to the other side of the table to pull you in a comforting embrace.

”you mean the world to me,” he whispers. ”i like you, all of you. your body, too, all your curves, your softness, i love it all.”

he holds you close, rubbing circles on your back gently.

”let’s go home, alright? i want to make you feel loved,” jongseob whispers softly.

-

jongseob holds your hand as he guides you to his dorm room. he grabs a few snacks as you walk through the kitchen.

”go sit on the bed, okay? i’ll get you something more comfortable to change into,” he says softly, closing his door after you both.

”your clothes won’t fit me,” you mumble.

”i bought clothes as a present for you. and i’ve worn them every once in a while so they have my scent. i ruined the surprise now but i have more surprises coming,” he says, giving you a pile of clothes.

he moves behind you to help you unzip your dress. ”this dress is nice,” he hums as you slip it off.

he takes in your naked form, letting his eyes travel on your body. ”beautiful,” he whispers.

”i’ll go get you a pair of clean underwear. you left some here last time and i thought i’d wash them and keep them here just in case,” he explains, slightly embarrassed.

he pulls you to the bed with him after you’ve changed into the more comfortable clothes he provided.

”i thought we could watch a movie and cuddle to sleep. how’s that sound?” he asks softly.

”sounds nice,” you respond.

he leans back from the embrace, looking into your eyes.

”do you want a kiss?” he asks. you nod.

he complies, gently cupping your face with his hands and pressing his lips on yours. the kiss is soft and sweet, and he tries to pour his love and affection to you through it.

he gently licks your bottom lip, asking for permission to slip his tongue in your mouth. he does just that as you let your mouth slightly fall open, softly exploring your mouth with his tongue.

the kiss breaks as you both have to come up for air. he nuzzles your nose with his, smiling softly.

”i adore you,” he whispers. ”you mean more to me than you know, but i’m going to make you so aware of all the love i feel for you.”

”i adore you too. i love you,” you whisper back.

he leans in, peppering your face with soft kisses, making you giggle.

”there it is, that adorable giggle of yours,” jongseob grins, his snaggle tooth peeking out.

you smile, and he swears his heart is about to burst from loving you so much.

he never thought he could love someone so much — but he’s glad he can. and he’s glad it’s you.

~~~ a/n: i haven’t written in so long my skills are nonexistent now..!! wrote this because as a chubby girl i never ever see any writing for us, everything’s always made for skinny girlies (who i very much love too!!!) so i decided to give our chubby seobie stans some love too! plus i’ve been feeling soo insecure lately and i need my seob to hype me up

i’m thinking about writing a nsfw part 2 to this.. lmk what y’all think

[writeriguess]

instead talking about Bakugou a little older than the reader? he in comparison has had a lot of experiences compared to her, but she in fact feels insecure about this, and would like some reassurance, but at a certain point Bakugou has a fit of jealousy and at that point she makes him understand how much he loves her, it would be too cute🎀 (+smut) THANKS

You had always admired Bakugou Katsuki from afar. His fiery personality, his unrelenting drive, and his overwhelming confidence made him impossible to ignore. Now, being with him felt like a dream—but sometimes, that dream turned into insecurity. After all, he was older, more experienced, and you often found yourself wondering if you measured up.

You sat at the edge of the bed, fidgeting with your fingers. Bakugou was pacing the room, towel draped over his neck after a long, hard day. His messy blond hair was still damp from the shower, and the muscles in his back flexed with every movement. As you watched him, the words that had been bothering you for days finally tumbled out.

“Katsuki… you’ve been with more people, right?”

His movements froze mid-step, and he turned to look at you, brows furrowing in confusion. “Huh? Where’s this coming from?”

You lowered your gaze, unsure of how to voice the insecurities swirling inside you. “It’s just… you’ve done a lot. Been with people, had more experiences. And I’m just—well, I feel like I’m behind. What if I’m not enough for you?”

His eyes softened, but there was a fire flickering behind them. In a few quick strides, he was standing in front of you, towering over your smaller frame. He lifted your chin with two fingers, forcing you to meet his gaze.

“Are you kidding me?” Bakugou’s voice was low, almost a growl. “You think I care about any of that?”

You blinked, the knot of anxiety in your chest loosening just a little. “I mean, you’ve done so much already, and I’m just… I don’t know, Katsuki. I feel like you deserve someone who’s on your level.”

His scowl deepened, but this time it wasn’t directed at you. “Tch, you’re an idiot sometimes, y’know that? You think I’m with you for your ‘experience’?” He crouched down to your eye level, his intense crimson eyes burning into yours. “I’m with you because you’re you. Don’t need anyone else, don’t want anyone else. Got it?”

You felt your heart swell at his words, but before you could fully process the warmth, Bakugou’s expression darkened, and he stood back up.

“Wait… is that why you’ve been talkin’ to that extra from your class? The one always hangin’ around you?” His fists clenched, and you could practically see the jealousy bubbling up in him. His jaw tightened as if just the thought of it made his blood boil. “You think you need someone like him instead of me?”

Realization hit you like a ton of bricks. He wasn’t mad at you. He was jealous. Bakugou, for all his confidence and bravado, was actually worried about losing you.

“Katsuki, no,” you said, standing up and grabbing his arm. His muscles were tense, but you held on firmly. “He’s just a friend. No one comes close to you. No one could ever replace you.”

He turned his head away, still refusing to meet your eyes, but you could tell his resolve was cracking. You stepped closer, wrapping your arms around his waist and pressing your cheek to his chest. The steady thump of his heartbeat filled your ears.

“I love you, Katsuki,” you whispered against his skin. “You’re all I need. I’m sorry if I ever made you doubt that.”

Bakugou’s hands hesitated before they finally settled on your hips, pulling you closer to him. His grip tightened as if he was scared to let you go.

“I’m the one who’s supposed to say that,” he muttered, his voice softer now. “I love you, idiot.”

The vulnerability in his tone made your heart flutter. You tilted your head up, capturing his lips in a tender kiss. He responded immediately, his hands sliding up your back, his lips demanding yet gentle against yours. The kiss deepened, and you felt yourself being backed up against the bed, your legs hitting the edge.

“Katsuki…” you breathed out as he guided you down onto the mattress, his body hovering over yours.

His eyes darkened with desire, the jealousy from earlier replaced by an intense need to remind you just how much you meant to him. He kissed you again, this time with more urgency, his lips trailing down your neck, leaving a trail of heat in their wake. His hands roamed over your body, fingertips pressing into your skin as if he was trying to memorize every inch of you.

“You’re mine,” he murmured against your collarbone, his voice rough with need. “No one else gets to touch you. No one else gets to see you like this.”

His words sent a shiver down your spine, and you arched your back, pressing yourself closer to him. “I’m yours, Katsuki. Only yours.”

Bakugou’s lips crashed against yours again, his hands sliding under your shirt, fingers tracing the curves of your body. You gasped as his touch ignited a fire inside you, and before you knew it, your clothes were discarded, leaving you bare beneath him.

He paused for a moment, his gaze raking over your body as if he was trying to commit the sight to memory. “You’re perfect,” he whispered, his voice barely audible, but the sincerity in it made your heart skip a beat.

You reached up, cupping his face in your hands. “Katsuki… I love you.”

His eyes softened, and for a moment, you saw the vulnerable side of him that he rarely showed anyone. He leaned down, kissing you softly before whispering against your lips, “I love you too.”

Katsuki’s hands were anything but steady as he started fumbling with the buttons of your blouse. His fingers, usually so sure and precise, trembled slightly in a way that was endearing—like even he was nervous despite how confident he usually seemed. You could feel the heat radiating from his body, his eyes locked onto yours as his brows furrowed in frustration.

“Damn thing,” he muttered, his impatience getting the best of him.

You chuckled softly, reaching up to still his hands. “Here, let me help,” you whispered, your fingers gently brushing against his. His gaze softened for a moment, and he watched as you slowly undid the rest of the buttons yourself.

As the fabric parted, revealing more of your skin, Katsuki’s eyes darkened with an intensity that made your pulse quicken. He slid his hands over your now exposed skin, his touch sending sparks of warmth through your body. You shivered, not from the cold but from the electric connection that pulsed between you.

“Katsuki,” you breathed his name, drawing him closer as your blouse slipped off your shoulders, landing softly on the floor. His mouth found yours again, but this time, his kiss was slow, deliberate, like he was savoring every second. His hands moved to your waist, fingers digging into your skin just enough to remind you of the possessiveness he had over you.

“Don’t know why you worry so much,” he murmured against your lips before kissing down your jawline to your neck. “You’re all I ever want.”

His words melted your insecurities, and you tilted your head back to give him better access. Each kiss, each graze of his teeth against your skin, sent a wave of warmth coursing through you. Your fingers tangled in his messy blond hair, pulling him closer as his lips moved lower.

“You’re perfect, you hear me?” Katsuki’s voice was rough, breathless, his jealousy from earlier forgotten as his focus shifted entirely to you. “No one else could ever come close to making me feel like this.”

You couldn’t help but smile through the haze of warmth and desire that clouded your mind. “You always know what to say, Katsuki.”

His response was a low growl of approval, his lips grazing your collarbone as his hands roamed lower, exploring the newly exposed skin. Every touch, every kiss, reaffirmed what you already knew: you were all he wanted, just as he was all you needed.

Katsuki’s lips trailed down your chest, his hot breath fanning across your skin, leaving a tingling sensation wherever it touched. The tension in the room thickened, his hands now tracing over the curves of your waist, gripping your hips with a possessive yet tender touch. As his lips hovered just above the edge of your bra, he paused, glancing up at you with those intense crimson eyes.

“You’re driving me crazy,” he whispered, his voice hoarse, laced with need. He kissed the swell of your breast softly, almost as if he was holding himself back.

You let out a shaky breath, fingers still tangled in his hair. “Katsuki…”

Hearing his name on your lips like that seemed to spark something in him. His hands moved to the clasp of your bra, and this time, there was no fumbling. He made quick work of it, tossing the fabric aside before lowering his head, lips grazing the newly exposed skin. His kisses turned hotter, more desperate, as his tongue flicked over one of your nipples, making you gasp and arch into him.

“God, you’re perfect,” he murmured between kisses, his hands roaming your body like he couldn’t get enough of you. Every touch set your skin on fire, each kiss pulling you further into the storm that was Bakugou Katsuki.

You could feel the tension building between you both, the room growing hotter with every second. You tugged at his shirt, pulling it off him in one swift motion, eager to feel his skin against yours. His muscles flexed under your touch, his body hard and warm as he pressed himself closer to you, almost as if he needed to feel every inch of you against him.

“Katsuki,” you breathed, your voice shaky with anticipation. “I need you…”

The words seemed to unravel something inside him. His lips crashed against yours again, and in a rush, his hands went to the waistband of your skirt. In one swift movement, he pulled it down, taking your panties with it, leaving you completely bare before him.

He paused for a moment, eyes raking over your body, as if he needed to take you in—every inch, every curve, burning the image of you into his mind.

“You’re so damn beautiful,” he said, voice low and husky, sending a shiver down your spine.

Before you could respond, he was on you again, his hands sliding down your thighs, parting them gently as he settled between them. The intensity in his eyes, the way his hands trembled ever so slightly despite his strong grip, only fueled your desire. You reached for him, tugging at the waistband of his pants, needing to feel him, needing to close the distance that still remained between you.

“Katsuki, please…” you whispered, your voice heavy with need.

That seemed to snap whatever control he had left. In a blur of motion, his pants were discarded, and he hovered over you, his skin warm against yours as he pressed his forehead to yours. His breath came in ragged gasps, and for a moment, the world narrowed to just the two of you—nothing else mattered.

“I love you,” he murmured, the words raw, almost vulnerable as he aligned himself with you.

Before you could respond, he thrust into you in one smooth motion, filling you completely. You gasped at the sensation, your back arching off the bed as pleasure overwhelmed your senses. Katsuki groaned, his head dropping to the crook of your neck as he held himself still for a moment, letting you adjust to the feeling of him inside you.

“You feel… so damn good,” he breathed, his voice strained with the effort it took to stay still.

You wrapped your arms around his back, nails digging into his skin as you whispered his name, urging him to move. And he did, slowly at first, his hips rolling against yours with a delicious rhythm that had you trembling beneath him. Each thrust sent waves of pleasure coursing through you, your mind going hazy as you lost yourself in him.

Katsuki’s pace quickened, the desperation in his movements mirroring your own. He pressed his lips to yours in a bruising kiss, swallowing your moans as his hips snapped against yours, the sound of skin against skin filling the room. His hands gripped your thighs, pulling you even closer, deeper, as if he wanted to merge with you entirely.

“I’m yours,” you gasped, your breath hitching as the coil of pleasure in your stomach tightened with every thrust. “Only yours, Katsuki…”

His response was a low growl, his grip tightening as he drove into you harder, faster. “That’s right,” he panted, his voice thick with emotion. “You’re mine… all mine.”

The intensity of his words, the sheer possessiveness in his voice, pushed you over the edge. With a cry, your body tightened around him, pleasure exploding through you in waves as your climax washed over you. Katsuki followed soon after, his body shuddering against yours as he found his own release, groaning your name as he buried himself deep inside you one last time.

For a moment, the world was silent, save for the sound of your heavy breathing, both of you clinging to each other as you came down from the high.

Katsuki collapsed beside you, pulling you into his arms, his chest rising and falling as he caught his breath. He pressed a soft kiss to your forehead, his fingers brushing through your hair as he held you close.

“I love you,” he whispered again, quieter this time, but just as sincere.

You smiled, snuggling into his warmth as you whispered back, “I love you too, Katsuki. Always.”

Requests are open. Send as many as you like.

[conundrumoftime]

My Haladriel fics

I haven't grouped all these together before, so here's a collection of all the complete Haladriel fics I've written so far since October '22. Cannot believe it's been almost two years!

(Some of these fics also feature Celeborn/Galadriel, Celeborn/Sauron or all of them together, because I like a) Celeborn b) multishipping and c) mess. I'll make it clear here which stories those are, so if Celeborn is not your guy or if multishipping confuses or distresses you then that's! fine! just please don't read those ones and then be weird to me about it in the comments.)

Multi-chapter fics

Shadow-Bride (E, 265k words): This is my long long longfic, started in December of '22 and now complete after 43 chapters. Canon-divergence from the middle of s1.

Banquets have burned for you (M, 24k words): Written for eastwynds for the spring '23 Haladriel fic exchange, where the prompt was "one thing happens differently on Númenor, and everything changes." Went heavy on the Greek tragedy influence for this one because it felt fitting for Númenor.

A man is a god in ruins (E, 21k words): At the time this was the longest story I'd ever written and the first multi-chapter story I'd finished since the LiveJournal days. How things change! Canon-divergence from the very end of s1; what if Halbrand decided to leave Eregion before Galadriel got suspicious?

All the kinds of alive you can be (E, 13k words, also Celeborn/Galadriel, also Celeborn/Sauron/Galadriel): so loads of us have written "what if Sauron shapechanged into Celeborn to seduce Galadriel"; this is "what if Sauron shapechanged into Galadriel to seduce Celeborn, because he's furious with her and obsessed with her and sort of wants to be her all at the same time"?

So Wide a Sea (E, 6k words, also Galadriel/Celeborn): After Sauron's final defeat in the War of the Ring Galadriel remembers a long-ago day on Númenor.

One-shot fics

Five times Halbrand's secret got revealed (T, 6000 words): the first Haladriel fic I ever wrote, of five scenarios of Galadriel learning his name. 'Shadow-Bride' is a continuation of one of these five; 'A man is a god in ruins' is the '...and one time it didn't.'

Tar-Mairon of the Shire (G, 3000 words): entire fix-it fluff, probably more '&' than '/', Hobbits make everything better including Dark Lords.

Tempered (M, 3600 words): written for @thecoziestbean for the spring '24 Haladriel fic exchange.

And white winter, on its knees (M, 1800 words): written for the Haladriel Winter Solstice '23, a what-if Galadriel said yes to Sauron's offer story.

Weakened like Achilles, with you always at my heels (M, 4000 words): written for Haladriel Week '24. A little moment after the Tirharad battle and before the volcano.

I have loved flowers that fade (M, 1700 words): they deserved to have at least one nice time in Eregion before she found out who he was!

Weighed Against Our Future (T, 1800 words): A delirious (or is he?) Halbrand on the road to Eregion.

Shine (T, 3300 words) and its sequel Lady of the Seas (E, 3700 words): Halbrand makes Galadriel's armour on Númenor.

Silver Queen (M, 3600 words): my first 'what if Celebrían was Sauron's daughter?' story, sort of a Haladriel fic and sort of a fix-it for Celebrían.

Civil Twilight (M, 10k words, also Celeborn/Galadriel): for Haladriel Week '23. A 'what if Celebrían was Sauron's daughter?' and 'what if Galadriel finds her missing husband?' story combined.

The turn of the tide (T, 1700 words): For Haladriel Week '23. In the Fourth Age after travelling back to Valinor, Galadriel still feels called to the sea.

Though I sang in my chains like the sea (T, 3000 words): For Haladriel Week '23. They were on that ep2 raft for a while; so this is a gapfiller of them getting to know each other better. Or not.

Blood Sugar (M, 7000 words): the only time I've ever done a modern AU, and even then it doesn't really count because he's still literal Sauron in it. Anyway: Glasgow, professional disillusionment, and difficult relationships with your history.

Ficlets under 1000 words

You built a nest inside my soul, you rest your head on leaves of gold (M, 800 words); Numenor alleyway smut.

How shall summer's honey breath hold out (M, 600 words): and why shouldn't Galadriel get to command an army and have a nice time with the enemy general while heavily pregnant.

Gilded (G, 550 words): another 'what if she said yes on the raft' fic

Not for all my little words (T, 775 words) s1 ep8, Elrond-POV on Galadriel and her weird new friend in Eregion.

Miscellaneous fics:

Half-Maia Celebrían short fics: Suo Gân (G, 1000 words), Arda Sahta (G, 1100 words), As Little Might Be Thought (T, 2600 words). All these are Galadriel/Celeborn (and the last one is also Celebrían/Elrond) and Sauron isn't really in them, but they're all about the impact of that being his child.

To hold all the promise of blue-velvet dark (T, 1700 words) - another 'what if Sauron impersonates Galadriel?' fic, this time featuring baby half-Maia Amroth.

Silmarillion rather than TROP: As certain dark things are loved (M, 8000 words, also Galadriel/Celeborn, also Galadriel/Celeborn/Sauron), for @softlighter for the Sufficiently Advanced '24 exchange. Annatar in 2nd Age Ost-in-Edhil.

[everythingne]

double dealing: two wheeler (ls2)

there's no real need for you to get on two wheels--considering logan's four work just fine. but it comes in handy sometimes (requested by @dozyisdead, thank u love!!)

double dealing verse / last logan installment

notes/warnings: this delves into more of the 'double dealing' esc side of this whole little series sooo... illusions to planned car accidents, minor injury, smuggling documents

a call from Alex so late at night is unprecedented. Sure, its not the most random thing on the planet, but its odd considering you're not even in Austin yet. Zipping along the highway, you send him an auto reply message, a quick 'I'm on my bike, I'll stop and talk to you soon!' but the Thai driver doesn't seem to care.

He calls again. And then again, and by the time you've found a safe spot to pull off--down an exit ramp and in a gas station, he's called sixteen times.

It's two in the morning, so you park your bike to get gas anyways, and answer his incessant calls.

"Alex, what the hell is going on?" You huff out, poking the 'Regular' button on the gas pump as you hear the phone connect.

"Hey, Carrie... what highway are you on?"

Oh, motherfucker. You think, he's using codenames.

You shove the nozzle into the tank, clicking back the pump's trigger as the fuel pours out. It can't move fast enough, "Uhm... after I get gas, I'll be back on I-10, is there a problem?"

"Yeah, uh..." Alex sighs and you can picture the way he's gripping his shifter as you hear his car roaring under his voice, "Bandit's caught in the mix transporting some goods, we think there was either a mix up with Godfather's intel or if Payday's got some sort of bet going on."

You watch the price of the gas click up, your hand tensing as you wait for the meter to fill, murmuring to Alex, "Doesn't he have the newbies with him?"

"That's the reason we're calling you in." Alex's car screeches and you can imagine him Jersey sliding into an exit lane, "I'm with Lion and Shades, we're gonna divert the goods with Bandit, see if we can figure out what Payday and The Minister are doing. All I need to know is if you can fit the kids on the bike."

The loud clunk of the gas filling up has you slamming the nozzle back in its holder and closing your tank, kicking up your stand as your bike roars to life, "If Ollie can hold on to the other kid tight, then yeah, probably."

"Meet us at the Walmart in Manor--off 290." Alex says and you nod sharply, pulling out of the gas station. You're not far, like maybe twenty or so minutes out.

"Got it. See you in twenty." You say and end the call. You don't know Texas well enough, but luckily tou knew Manor was somewhat close by. You'd gotten off at Exit 720 for Brenham, following Highway 290 up to Austin. Originally planning to stop for gas and food when you got low, which ended up being in McDade.

McDade to Manor, twenty minutes roughly. But you were sure you could shorten that.

The streetlights pass in a blur of color as you dip between the few cars--and ride alongside the big rigs, in the mostly empty roads. You can't even really think, or breathe right, until you pull up alongisde three cars in the back corner of a Walmart parking lot. Which is.. painfully American. Alex's--or, Smokey's 1970 Pontiac LeMans, Max's--or The Lion's 1999 Subaru WRX, and finally George's--or Shades' 2000 Porsche Boxster.

"Here's the deal," George is quick to say as you click up your visor so they can see you better. You find taking the whole helmet off would be redundant. You'd just delay departure at that point.

"Bandit's got two newbies with him. They were supposed to be with Goss but he was out of commission. So, we figured since this is a low urgency run, it would be fine." George rubs his jaw and shrugs, "seems like someone caught wind."

"Which," Alex cuts George off, "makes no sense. No one should be going after this, it's a deal from the county police chief. If we do this run, they won't bother us with the racing, classic corruption shit, y'know? We do it everywhere, building rapport, doing favors, and what not."

Max nods, walking over to lean next to George, "Obviously, we don't want the kids--if you can call Franco a kid, I guess, in all this shit so soon. They're supposed to do the basic shit, the street racing, the parts running. Not this stuff. We also wouldn't pull you into this unless it was dire."

You nod. Logan had told you countless stories about 'ascending' through the ranks. How the most senior racers, like Fernando or Lewis, handled the most egregious shipments and situations while newer drivers like him or Oscar did base level stuff. You were also surprised to find out all of it is voluntary, and for a lifetime, when Logan did a run with Sebastian Vettel a few months back.

So, even if Logan went to Indycar or NASCAR, or wherever--if he was in the area and they needed him, and he wanted to, he would go.

"We need to get Franco and Ollie out of that car. They aren't even really indoctrinated into this all yet." George hums, "The others in the area are on a bigger drop, or just not able to come out. Hence, why we reached out to you."

"You know Bandit's driving style well." Alex hums, "and while we distract Payday and whoever's with him--I think it's... Minister, we should be able to get him to a secure location and pass the kids to you."

Max eyes your bike carefully. You can tell he's not too keen on the idea of shoving you and two lanky boys on one bike, but it's all you have. He hums, then murmurs, "Can you even fit with two of them?"

"It'll be a tight squeeze and not at all safe but... I think as long as they hold on we can make it work." You eye your bike, having absolutely no idea how to make it work, "If possible, could we do it somewhere close to a drop off point?"

"Yeah." George nods, "I can call Hotshot again and see if he's in Austin now can swing by and take them from you... probably somewhere between Austin and Cedar Park. Bandit's southbound, maybe twenty minutes out from Cedar Park now, so we should get moving."

You nod, "So I'm just trailing Bandit?"

"Pretty much." Alex nods, "stay close, follow hand gestures. We'll have to get you a radio to communicate with us for next time."

"If. There's a next time." Max hums, then nods his head to his car. George quickly follows suit, but Alex pauses to give you a fist bump.

"We got this. Don't worry about it." He smiles. As the cars roar to life, you follow suit, and out of the highway the four of you go. Just a year ago, when you had been in Australia with Logan and Oscar, when you'd gotten all tangled up in this... you hadn't owned this bike. But afte expressing your love for highspeeds and the feeling of the wind rippling across your skin, you'd sold your car and bought the bike.

Less practical, sure, but a hell of a lot more fun. Plus, Logan's car could fit your suitcases and whatever you needed for traveling, so it didn't matter to you.

The three cars in front of you move at perfect speeds, and at Alex's command, you all go dark and slowly exit off to 183, where Logan should be travelling southbound. Luckily, you are able to spot him zipping down, two cars hot on his trail. The first car dips in, a sporty Porsche Cayman, and nearly knocks the back of his car.

Logan dodges, but nearly skids into the gaps in the guard railing. You don't want to imagine it piercing his car, but you can't help it.

You grit your teeth as Alex turns on his lights and dips across the grass median with Max behind him doing the same. They bound acorss, but perfectly time slipping into the gaps in the guardrails right behind where Logan's speeding down the highway--Alex nearly plowing into the side of the Porsche.

George stays on the other side of the road and signals for you to follow him off another exit. Blowing two red lights--and praying that this run is successful so that won't come to bite you in the ass later, you end up about two miles behind Logan and the rest.

Pulling up alongside George, he waves for you to stay back, and peels forward. You stay within eyesight, but hold off a few hundred feet. You can see Alex has put himself between the Porsche--which you think is Lance's, and the Toyota 86 you know is Checo's. All three cars are a bit dented up, you assume from the cheap shot pit maneuvers Lance was attempting.

Max comes up alongside Checo, and through hand gestures, you see the Toyota come back, falling alongside George. And you're waved up. You come between the two cars and a small parcel is handed to you from Checo, and you toss it into George's passengers window--very precariously, before backing up again at your cue. You don't want to think of what it is.

Looking ahead, it seems like they're having a harder time getting Lance to get off Logan's ass, and so you drift off to follow the right hand lane as they see what they're doing.

Eventually you realize they're trying to box Lance into the left lane. Max splitting the lanes in the front, Alex on his right side with Logan ahead of him ready to peel off, and George and Checo holding up the back in the back.

You can imagine the radios filled with excessive swearing as Lance nearly ramming into the back of Max's car is met with George tapping the back of his car.

Finally, Logan dips off to an exit and you gun off, following him and glancing aside to see George swerve big time to avoid Lance just absolutely obliterating the side of his car. You follow down, flicking your headlights off when Logan does. Your heart is in your throat as Logan merges off into a side street and slows down significantly. You boht move, only lit up by streetlights, before coming to park under an overpass.

As Logan's car slows to a stop, you glance back behind you. Other than houses and trees, the area seems vacant. Logan's car shuts off and you follow suit, propping your bike up on its stand and throwing your leg over as you clamber off it and watch the three across from you.

"You guys alright?!" You shout and the three nod. Logan helping the two climb out of the back seat. Even in the hush of the back road, there's a lot of tension from Ollie and Frnaco, the two almost jittery as Logan slams the drivers door closed once they've gotten out.

You can't blame Logan for being pissed, the lives of two kids who weren't even really involved was in danger.

You take off your helmet, setting it on the seat, and make your way over to where Logan's popped open his trunk and is digging in it for something. You look over to where Franco and Ollie stand off to the side, murmuring amongst themselves, then back to Logan as he places his helmet in your hands with a bit more force than needed.

Unluckily, you catch a glimpse of what he's been asked to smuggle--a few guns, semi-automatic weaponry you try to blink out of your eyes as the trunk slams shut. It's the loudest noise in the area, other than the hum of someone's air conditioning unit down the side road.

"You can fit them?" Logan asks gruffly and you shrug, reaching out to intertwine one of your hands. A soft, soothing rub of your thumb along his skin as you hum out your reply,

"Don't have much of a choice."

Logan lets out a low whistle, and you can imagine when there's more time and more context, you'll talk about the whole thing during a late night drive. Probably back home in Florida.

"We both need to get moving." He murmurs and you nod, pulling him closer by the hand for a chaste goodbye kiss, and you're both murmuring at the other to be quick and safe. The night chill on your hand is more prominent when Logan lets go, making his way back over to his car.

Opposite of him, you make your way over to Franco and hand him Logan's helmet. Ironically, it fits well enough. So you shove your helmet on Ollie's head.

"Listen," You point at them and challenge them with your best attempt at a stern, motherly tone, "I have no idea if this is going to work, but you two need to hold onto me like you will die if you let go, because you will."

Your phone buzzes, and you look down to a text from Alex. 'District park nearby, go there.'

You quickly plug the address into your phone, luckily the place is only fifteen or so minutes away. Logan starts his car and you wave him on as he peels off into the night, and after four or five attempts, you manage to squeeze both Ollie and Franco onto the back of your bike. Driving much slower than you usually would, you take the backroads to the park, and are delighted when you see Lando waiting outside the gates.

It's a bit of an adventure getting them both off again, and as you kill your bike and pop it onto the stand, Lando claps, his voice chiming with his hysterical laughing, "I'm impressed no one fell off!"

"i almost did!" Franco complains, popping Logan's helmet off his head and shaking out his hair, "because Ollie can't sit up all the way!"

"I had nowhere to go!" Ollie whacks Franco's arm, and as you watch, you can't help but laugh to yourself. It's just absurd. How the hell did you get all tangled up in this? You have a feeling it won't be the last time.

After the Austin GP, you're sitting on Logan's trunk. Your bike is parked alongside his car, the modernity of your bike somehow working with his older bodied car.

"Ay!" A voice chimes and you glance over to where Ollie jogs over with an almost happy hop to his steps, very much like a puppy, "guess who finally got a callsign!"

"A radio nickname," A much slower Charles Leclerc trails behind Ollie, but pauses at the sight of your bike and whistles, "Nice two wheels, Logan."

Logan hums in confusion before looking at what Charles is ogling, and you can't help but giggle at the mans shock when Logan informs him the bike is yours.

"I wasn't aware your girlfriend was cooler than you." Charles smiles, crossing his arms, and Ollie launches into the story of fitting him and Franco onto the back of the bike. And now, you feel like Charles thinks bikes are death traps a little bit more, just judging the white sheen that crosses over his face in the track lights that illuminate whatever race is going on.

"Did you ever figure out why Payday was on our ass?" Ollie asks Logan, and you watch your boyfriend sigh, leaning on his trunk and smiling at Ollie.

"I did, yes.." He trails off, glances to Charles, and then out onto the track, "we'll call it... bad faith and bad intel."

"Come on, I've got a name now! I should get to know." Ollie complains, and you smile as Alex and George drag Lando and Oscar over, laughter ringing in the air. These were the moments with the racers you loved the most.

"You're just a driver." Charles hums, giving Ollie a whack on the arm in good faith, "Not even a runner yet, Ollie. Don't get a big head about it now."

Ollie nods, a little bashful, and is quickly swept off in conversation with the group about what car he's gonna get and 'not-tracks' they want to take him on to see how he can drive out on the highways. Logan pats your thigh to gain your attention, and when you glance over, Alex hands you a little box--inside, a kit for a motorcycle radio.

"We convinced Max." He smiles, "Welcome in Carrie."

You smirk, giving Alex a fistbump as Logan leans into your side, the night stars twinkling above, the rumble of cars zipping by on bet fueled races. Nights like these you could get used to. But you might need to invest in a side car or something.

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@d3kstar

[hey-august]

Saw the post talking about soulmates and „I love you on purpose.“ and your tag on it. And yes, both is good…

But god, soulmate au with Buggy would be so cute tough. So many fun ideas to choose from.

„Yeah I got a soulmate string what of it? It’s all bullshit for sentimental idiots anyways.“ Sees reader insert and is just immediately smitten and now wants to prove himself as worthy.

„Oh yeah great. Amazing soulmate sentence I got here. „FINALLY I FOUND Y- wait that’s your real nose?“ just perfect. Just grand. Yeah, yeah laugh it off Shanks.“

Decades later he gets hit in the schnotz by a closing door and lets out a colorful string of cusses as he holds it in pain „GODDAMN YOU UNFLASHY SHITHEAD! WATCH WHAT YOURE DOING.“ only to be confused when the culprit opens the door again, positively beaming at him, before opening their mouth.

„No I don’t have a soulmate mark and that is GREAT because I would never even WANT that anyways. Although anyone who’d get me as a soulmate would be LUCKY to have a man like me, with no self esteem issues and lonely nights whatsoever.“

Sees reader insert and immediately feels a connection and it can’t be a soulmate, he knows that, he doesn’t have anything like that, but he keeps looking for a round red mark on them anyways because what else would it be? What else would indicate their soulmate is a rotten old clown? Only to be surprised when reader suddenly touches the back of his scalp in awe, like they just found a mythical and valuable treasure. „Oh it’s… you …. It’s …. It’s been hidden by your hair all this time? I …. I thought you didn’t -I -„ and then they hike their sleeve up to show him a little blue star above their elbow.

Ohoho, I do love soulmate AU tropes and soulmate marks. A little blue star??? PRECIOUS.

First words? Hell yes.

It also fits with the headcanon that Buggy is a romantic at heart, but tries to keep it to himself. Imagine the stories he'd tell himself about his soulmate.

He could fill books with the way they fill his dreams.

Some are tooth-rottingly sweet. How you've been searching for him and just waiting for your true love to sweep you off your feet. How he'd impress you with jokes and tricks. He'd show off his ship. How you love him unconditionally already.

And then there are the other stories. The ones where the ink bleeds and stains. Where you regret ever meeting him. Where you avoid him at all costs. Where no one could love a fuck-up clown like him.

But it works out. You're soulmates after all. Tied by fate and meant to be.

You lay in bed thinking all the same thoughts. That your soulmate is out there looking for you. Waiting for you. Missing you. Maybe he's looking at the same sky as you. And he is.

Okay, to talk about a different trope real quick - imagine Buggy's voice in your head. It would be so entertaining and absolutely irritating.

When you two meet for the first time, you're not sure if you want to smack him, punch him, kiss him, or -bleep- him.

[colorful-bees]

One of the many parts of N's character that makes me a little unwell is the infantilization of him done by Ghetsis. I think about it so often.

N is twenty years old at the time of Black and White and he still uses his childhood bedroom; we know he still uses it in recent times because when interacting with the train set inside during the final stretch of the game, the flavor text say the trains look recently played with. There is no doubt that this is the room that adult N stays and lives in.

The first thing that really sticks out to you is that N is an adult and his room is clearly not fit for one. The second thing you might notice is that it doesn't really look like a bedroom, it looks like a playroom. You get a sense of discomfort from the room and that's partially due to knowing who it belongs to but I also think it has to do with the fact that it doesn't even look like a bedroom; it doesn't look suitable for a child to necessarily live in.

N's room ties back into the themes of "innocence" surrounding N; children and childhood often represent purity and innocence, things N is expected to be. It's like he's expected to remain in this state of childishness as a way of him "staying" pure.

And it's not only within the environment that N lives in that you see this, it's with Ghetsis' dialogue towards N as well. There are a few instances where Ghetsis refers to N when he's not around; saying he once "set up a certain man as king" but when he's talking to N after he loses at the end of Black and White? He's belittling him and only calls him "boy". He's being condescending, he's telling N exactly how he feels about him and while berating him, that's the choice of words he uses.

Ghetsis doesn't see N as a human being and he also doesn't see him as an adult. It draws to mind the kinds of adults who view children as lesser than, people who don't have thoughts or autonomy of their own. And at the end of the day, it all ties back into Ghetsis' manipulation of N. He needs him to remain naive and unquestioning; he wants him to be that same child he found in the forest. It doesn't do him any good if N is a free thinking adult. It's just easier to force him into the role of a stupid, malleable child instead. An adult gets to have their own thoughts and feelings, gets to be their own person and those are privileges N isn't afforded.

It fits in perfectly with all of N's themes of inhumanity and lack of autonomy. No one ever sees him as simply a person. He'll always be a stupid child, a glorious leader, a freak without a human heart, a traitor and people are always telling him what he needs to be or what he already is. Ghetsis refuses to let N be fully human, to have full autonomy over himself whether that's treating him like an inhuman freak or a stupid child who doesn't know any better; he'll never be a whole human being.

[honeyxbunny99]

Sandor Clegane~ The Bitch and The Hound pt. 1

You bit your tongue as you scrubbed at King Joffrey's stinking royal feet. The taste of blood and pain mingling in your mouth was the only thing strong enough to distract you from your own humiliation in this moment. You could blame Joffrey Baratheon, the foolish demon before you. You stole a glance upwards only for your eyes to quickly flit back down in shame when you saw his thin lips curled up in a wiry smile, hatred in his blue eyes, and it was all directed at you. No, not all the blame on him. Your father. 

Your father was to blame, that damned fool. He was the reason you were in this mess in the first place.  Once your father had been charming, or so you were told. A traveling magician who settled in King's Landing when your beautiful mother opened her legs to him one night. Truly, the greatest trick he'd ever pulled was bedding your mother. She was said to be the most beautiful woman in the Reach once, before she was trafficked to marry another noble. One fateful stop for the night, wine, and slight of hand, and you came into existence. You, who were once not even a thought, were suddenly a big problem. She was found with your father and bloody sheets and thrown out into the cold. She bore your stupid father one more child, a girl, before she couldn't handle her life any longer, and ended it herself. 

~Good riddance.~ You used to think sometimes. ~How could you leave us?~ You thought all other times. 

YOU were now the most beautiful girl in King's Landing, or as your father would bolster, in all the Seven Kingdoms. He had made it his mission in life to improve your family's circumstances, through no work of his own. No, your family's future depended entirely on your pretty face. Barely 17, you had developed a reputation around town for your beauty, and your mystery. You were not allowed to walk about unescorted, but your family had no money. Your father would walk you everywhere, keeping his prize close to his chest at all times. You were no fool; you knew you were beautiful by the way people's heads turned in the streets. By the way shopkeepers offered you items freely and how many men would come knocking on your father's door asking for your hand. 

Some men had been handsome, some had many prospects. And yet, your father turned them all away, wanting, no, needing, only the best. ~A fool~, you thought as you opened your mouth to wince, drinking in your own blood from your harsh bite on your tongue. 

He is the reason you were here, presented before the young king in your finest dress. 

~~"Your grace, what she lacks in title, she many times over supplements with her beauty, her kindness, and her intell--"

"That dog?" Joffrey started, looking between you and your father with a disgusted look that you had never seen before. "You've come to my castle to bring me a bitch? To what, to fuck, to marry, to kill?"

Your heart sank to your stomach as you listened to his harsh words. "Y-Your grace, it was my daughter's greatest wish to meet you. She can only dream of calling you her husband..." You watched your father take a step back in apprehension. Joffrey said nothing, only raised his eyebrows as if in wait of a punchline. "(Y/n) is the greatest beauty in all of the Seven Kingdoms, and she wishes to be your wife now and alw--"

The Boy King erupted with laughter. He doubled over in his chair, slapping his knee for effect. Your cheeks flushed in embarrassment, and you glanced at the crowd surrounding you. Some laughed along with the boy king, others hid their face in embarrassment for you and your cause, but most were stoic, waiting for Joffrey's next move.  

The King stood finally and pointed his dainty finger at you. 

"This bitch is not fit to kiss my boot! You have brought shame on your family, ser, but not nearly enough. You see, I can't simply allow everyone to waste the king's time like this. Your family name is what, I've already forgotten?"

"(L/n) ... Your grace." Your father's voice was low. This had not gone at all how he had been expecting.

"(L/n) ... Well, my good man, I truly believe you will succeed in what you came here to do today. You came to make a name for yourself, and your whore daughter." As Joffrey spoke, you looked at the people around him. His mother, useless. His Head of the Kings Guard, an abuser just like him. And The Hound, his protector from childhood. Not one of them could end this miserable moment. "Today, no one shall forget the name (L/n)." 

As he finished speaking you realized he was right in front of you. He reached his hand up and turned your face with it, examining you. You held your breath, nails digging into your palms behind your back. 

"Hmm..." He looked you up and down, licking his lips fiendishly. "You are not fit to kiss my boot, but perhaps you could make use of yourself by washing my feet."

Your brow furrowed in confusion and the boy's smile grew. "Someone bring this bitch a sponge and water." 

"Your grace, I--"

"Ah, she speaks!" He cried out, looking at his followers for approval. Laughter followed and you saw someone dart off to fetch the items. "I don't like the sound of your voice. If I hear it again, your father will take the blows."

He stalked up the steps to the Iron Throne again with Pride. You stood frozen. "Well, take off my boots." He said lazily. 

"Your Grace, I do not wish to offend--" "Then don't, bitch... Your father said it was your greatest wish to be mine, or are you calling your father a liar... Lying to the king is an act of treason, and I don't mind reminding the court of the punishment for such crimes... Is your father a liar?"

"No." You said breathlessly. Tears pricked at your eyes at the thought. 

"Then today should be a dream come true for you... You get to touch your beloved king."

You looked back at your father, and out towards the freedom behind him. 

"Ser Merryn, pull her father to the side and bring forward my next citizen." Just then the man returned with a sponge and a bucket full of soapy water and forced it into your hands, the water splashing on your gown, making the king laugh. 

You struggled internally for a moment before your feet walked forward on their own. The king stared you down as you knelt at his feet, finally resolving to wink at you before his attention was drawn to another subject complaining. 

You tuned it all out as best you could and focused on the task at hand.~~

Finally, as you were drying your king's feet, he tutted at you and looked down. "You really are worthless, aren't you? You've missed a spot!" You squinted in confusion as the king brought his right foot closer to your face. Suddenly your face scrunched up tightly in pain as Joffrey kicked you hard in the nose. You fell back on your ass and slid down a couple steps as a result. Joffrey chuckled quickly as you panted and held your nose to stop the bleeding. He made a show of tying up his shoes while the court was silent, before standing and grabbing your bucket. He walked slowly towards you and raised the bucket over your head, then dumping the dirty water on your head. You gasped and choked on your own blood. Tears could flow freely now, as the water would mask it anyways. You stood quickly, not even thinking. 

"FUCK YOU!" You screamed. The boy's eyes widened. "Fuck you and your incestuous mother, you pathetic little shit!"

Ser Merryn marched forward at you as you heard your father shout scoldings and apologies. You blocked your face, but he hit you anyway. You stumbled back but did not fall.

"Ser Merryn! I said her father would take the blows!" The boy king retorted. The knight marched back over and whacked your father hard with the hilt of his sword 3 times. You dared not look away from the king. 

"Stop!... Ser, you came here today to improve your circumstances... And you, bitch, to find a husband worthy of your beauty. I am nothing if not a generous king, and I understand the needs of my people." He smirked, a fire in his eyes. "So, I will grant you your requests... Your circumstances shall improve, knowing you no longer have a bitch around to mooch off your family. And you," he smiled, biting his bottom lip, "You shall have a worthy husband... And who more worthy for a bitch, than a hound?!?" His voice was deranged, and he raised his arms up, demanding approval from his court. He did not receive it. 

"Hound!" He called and you watched his guard dog snap straighter in attention. "Come collect your bitch. You will wed tomorrow." 

You watched in terror as the giant marched up to you, his hair hardly hiding the burns marring his face, scowl ever present. 

"But--"

"Didn't I tell you that I hated the sound of your voice?! You will hold your tongue, or I will cut out your father's."

The hound grabbed your shoulder roughly and you pressed back against it, trying to push his hand off. He growled and picked you up to throw you over his shoulder. You winced at the change in pressure for your throbbing head but kept your mouth as quiet as possible in fear of further punishment. The hound began walking off, until he snapped back around at the final words you heard from Joffrey. "Don't forget to break her in rough!"

You trembled in the hound's hold. His pace was quick, and your face burned with anger and shame as he paraded you about the halls of The Red Keep, marching you to God knows where. Servants looked at you with fear and sympathy clear in their faces and you let out a small, choked sob. 

Suddenly you were dropped down to your feet in front of a great door. The Hound opened it wordlessly and shoved you in. He quickly shut it again before you could say a word, and you heard the lock click into place. You bolted over to the small window and looked down. There was no hope of escaping. You tried to steady your breathing and made note of things around the room but there wasn't much. You walked slowly into the next room, a bathroom, and noticed your reflection in a very broken mirror. 

Your sobs racked your body when you studied your face, bloody, dirty, wet, worried. You crumpled down to the floor and rocked yourself back and forth as you cried. That night was spent alone, cowering in fear in the bathroom. The Hound never once walked back in. 

In the morning you blinked your eyes open in surprise when a woman entered the bedroom. "Miss (L/n)?" The strange woman called, scanning the room. She rushed over to the window, as if worried you had somehow thrown yourself out of it. You came up behind her, back still flush against the wall, and said "I'm here." She gasped and smiled softly, hand clutching her chest. 

"Goodness, you gave me a fright." You winced at her words, remembering your face. You could still feel your heartbeat in your nose, and your right eye's vision was smaller than your left; a result of the backhand you'd earned from Ser Merryn. 

"I-I'm here to help you dress for the day, Milady." She sensed your discomfort and matched it with her own. 

"I don't need help." You retorted rudely. 

"I don't make the rules, I only follow them. Queen Mother Cersei has instructed that the rules for today are to dress you, feed you, and prepare you for your wedding night."

Your heart thudded faster in your chest, and you tried not to let your panic show. "Very Well." No use in fighting. You loosened the ties on the back of your dress and she rushed over behind you. "Let me help." She insisted. You thought of your sister, who you would normally dress with, and wondered if you would ever see her again. You wondered if your father already had, or if he was dead or locked away too. Either way, for certain you knew you were now a prisoner. A forced marriage to a monstrous man awaited you. You bit your lip and breathed quickly through your nose. 

"Hey," the woman said, resting a gentle hand on your shoulder and walking around to face you. "It does not have to be so terrible..." She tried to make you feel better. "You are here, in one piece. That is more than can be said for those that came after you... You really pissed the King off yesterday, you know."

"Whatever suffering Joffrey caused after me was his own doing, not mine and I--"

"Milady, calm down. I am not blaming you for anything. No one should. You said what we've all thought one time or another..." She smiled softly at you and your brow twitched. "The King is a monster... But your husband does not have to be."

She continued on as she dressed you, informing you how easily men can be manipulated into softness by their women. "Your beauty and your gentleness are weapons against a dog like him. Even wild dogs enjoy being pet." She winked. 

You let out a noise between a laugh and a scoff. "I am to be, in the words of his Highness, broken in rough. By a man people call a mad dog. Whatever beauty I had cannot save me now. My gentleness will be my undoing." You said coldly. The girl shook her head.  "Perhaps... Come, there will be breakfast in the garden."

Over breakfast you got to know the servant girl, called Anna, deeper although it took a great effort as she was not used to talking about herself. She even made you smile in spite of yourself. You did not eat of your own accord, only when she would force food into your hand, and say that you would need your strength. 

"Do you know how it works?" Anna said after some silence.

"What?"

"Sex? Breaking in?" 

Your eyes widened and you looked around the garden for eavesdroppers. She didn't seem amused. You cleared your throat. "My father could be a very crass man. Unfortunately, I have seen the act firsthand, when he was keeping my sister awake one night. Still, he wanted to preserve me as best he could."

"So, you ARE a virgin?" She raised her brows. 

"Of course."

She brought her hands up to hold her face, as she looked almost embarrassed or nervous for you. "Well, if you can handle the hound, you should be able to handle anybody."

You reflected on his size and felt the heat return to your face. "I'm terrified..." You confided. "I don't know all the cruel things men can do, and I never wanted to..." Your eyes welled with tears and your hands began to clam up and shake. "Do you think he will kill me?" You choked out. 

Anna got on her knees before you and took her handkerchief and dabbed at your face. "Oh, my lady, no, no, he will not kill you. Joffrey has not ordered him to do so, so he will not."

"But he will be rough."

"Yes, I imagine even gentle sex is rough with him... I am so sorry, (y/n). I do not envy your position, but know that I will see you the next morning and help you wash his filth off of you... Just try to close your eyes and imagine yourself somewhere else." 

You chuckled sadly and nodded. You took a deep breath and stood as you heard the large clock strike noon. You were to be married in 4 hours. You had to start getting ready. You grabbed Anna's hand tightly and followed her back to the room. 

Later, things flowed as expected. There was a girl to do your hair, and one to fit you into a simple wedding dress. You tried with what little makeup they provided to hide how swollen your face was and highlight your eyes. Father always said it was one of your best features. Every girl is meant to feel beautiful on her wedding day, and yet as you walked down the aisle to your husband in a suit of armor and King Joffrey holding back laughter, you felt like a true clown. You said your vows, and your husband grunted out his. It was only then during the ceremony that you learned your husband's true name: Sandor Clegane. And now you were Lady Clegane. 

You sat silently beside your husband at the wedding feast. No one came up to congratulate you, and you didn't want them to. This was, after all, a punishment. Eventually you heard the voice of your father pipe up from across the room. He was laughing with some other nobleman you'd never seen. You furrowed your brows in confusion and anger and stood abruptly, causing your husband to glance at you. You paid him no mind and instead walked across the room to find him. 

"Ah, (y/n)!" He was loud, drunk. You saw the bruising on his face. "You looked beautiful as always, my darling. A truly happy day!" He said, truly jovial. You scowled at him, wanted to hit him. 

"A happy day?" You asked, venom in your voice. "Do you have any idea what you've cursed me to?! Your stupidity, your pride, your--" "That's enough." He grabbed your wrist tightly. "You've cursed yourself, you insolent girl." He whispered angrily in your ear. "If you had only shut up and let me do the talking, maybe you would be home right now. Maybe your sister would not have to carry on your burdens!" 

You winced audibly and twisted your arm. Your father grabbed your face and turned you forward to look at your husband, who was already looking at you from across the room, expression truly unreadable. "Your tongue got you into this. Your fiery spirit... I've heard the hound LOVES fire." Truly, your father had never quite been this cruel to you. You must have truly embarrassed him. "You made your bed." He spat in your ear. "Now go and lie in it."

With that you were released and walked quickly back to your seat. Sandor's eyes followed you the entire way, but when you sat down beside him and tried to meet his eyes face-to-face, he turned his head away. You blew a sharp breath out through your nose in humiliation. Your eyes were then directed to his hands, the way he tore apart a leg of chicken, his large meaty fingers relentlessly prying. Your stomach flipped on its own and you tried to chug your wine. 

Later that evening, at the king's insistence, Clegane carried you bridal style all the way to your room as his laughter echoed behind you. You tried not to, but you were shaking like a leaf. Even the alcohol could not dull your nerves. He set you down gently inside the room and you walked slowly to the bed. There was a great silence after he closed the door and locked it. You took deep breaths and tried to remember all that Anna had told you to prepare you. He turned around to look at you and leaned back against the heavy wooden door, arms crossed over his chest. Your eyes raked over him. Truly, if he wasn't so terrifying, he might be attractive. You tried to list his positives.

Tall, strong, gruff voice, very likely well-endowed, loyal... Who he was loyal to was another issue entirely, but perhaps like Anna said, you could work him into your favor. His eyes focused on all the different parts of you.

You licked your lips in preparation of your speech, truly the first words you would ever speak to him outside of your wedding vows. 

"Would you like to take off my dress?" You asked meekly, reaching for the laces on the back yourself. 

His face hardened almost unnoticeably. It was very dark in the room, but you could still make out his expressions--deciphering them was another task entirely beyond you. 

"Aye. I would, actually." He spoke lowly. "Let's get this over with." He stepped quickly over to you, and you tried not to flinch. Your face almost collided with his chest plate as his hands made quick work on the dress at your back. A shiver ran down your spine at the closeness and you closed your eyes. Suddenly you felt him ball the fabric at your sides in his fist, he growled and tore the dress open. The sound of it ripping sent a shock wave through you and you gasped, hands coming up instinctively onto his hands to stop him. You looked up at him through your lashes in fear. ~My God, he IS rough.~

Your hands did nothing to stop him as he tore the dress down your sides, leaving you in your underclothes. 

"Shut up," he said gruffly. You stood in your sheer garment and your body tensed. He picked you up and threw you onto the bed. You yelped at this and finally felt the familiar prickling in our eyes. 

"Please" You begged for nothing. 

"Shut up, I said." He stood at the edge of the bed and looked only at your face. "Take that off." He ordered, and you dared not disobey. You pulled the dress off over your head and covered your breasts instinctively with your arms. Sandor Clegane, however, still, made no apparent effort to see your exposed body. 

Instead, he took the armor off of his arms and withdrew his sword from its keep at his waist. Your mouth opened in terror. 

He's going to kill me. He climbed onto the bed with you and grabbed the underdress you had discarded nearby. Then he surprised you again, taking his sword to his own forearm and cutting the top of it. You gasped as he started to poor blood. Your gentleness took over your confusion and fear and you reached out to him to try to stop the bleeding. He growled at you viciously and you retreated your hands. You watched him from the edge of the bed. He directed his blood flow to the crotch of your dress, and the proceeded to smear it around the bed. Your heart had never beat so fast, and you felt faint. 

He tossed your clothes aside and covered his wound, walking to the bathroom to wash it off. Your chest heaved, repeating the scene in your mind. 

~That was not sex.~

"W-What the hell was that?" You called out, still frozen on the bed. 

"Don't worry, girl. That's the most action you'll be getting from me."

You frowned; confusion only intensified. "B-But why?" You begged. 

He walked around the corner, revealing himself again. "You are a virgin, aren't you?" He asked, as though you were dumb. Perhaps you were dumb. "Ah hell, it doesn't matter. You'd bleed from ME even if you were a well-trained whore." 

He blew out snot onto the floor and proceeded to take the rest of his armor off in the bathroom. Your heartbeat steadily slowed to a somewhat normal pace. 

"They'll be coming in the morning to check the sheets. To see what all I've done to you." He said casually. 

"You won't touch me?" Your voice was still thick with apprehension. 

The Hound scoffed and sneered. "You think I want to?"

You blushed and covered yourself again as he finally looked you up and down. 

"Maybe I ought to..." He surprised you, and a lump formed in your throat. He approached slowly. Now that his armor was removed you could see him in his plain clothes; see and smell the sweat under his arms. The musk that emanated off of a man after a long day. You trembled and closed yourself up as much as you could without cowering. "Come here, girl." He mumbled and grabbed your ankle, pulling it toward him. You shouted weakly and slapped him, though he didn't flinch a bit. 

He was on top of you in an instant, legs closed in tight around your hips as he took both of your wrists easily in one of his own. He raised and pinned them up above your head on the bed and you whimpered, his face close to yours. The pace of your heart quickened again as you squirmed beneath him, but you did not yell, did not cry. He looked down at you, grip becoming bruising on your wrists. You moaned in pain, and he scrunched his face up at the sight of you. 

"Look at me, bitch!" He demanded, a bit of spit flying from his mouth onto yours. 

"I am!" You called back, eyes locked onto his face. He took your throat in his other hand while the rest of his body kept you powerless against him. 

"What do you see?!" His voice was bellowing, and his eyes glared down at you. "A monster--"

"My Husband!" You answered, simultaneously. His hard expression broke and his grip on your neck loosened, though truthfully it wasn't tight to begin with. He pulled himself back from you a bit, slowly, and his eyes left yours to drift over the sheets. "I know you don't know me, don't like me. Hurt me if you have to! But you're my husband now, the only man I'll ever have, and I intend to make the best of it..."

His face twisted into a grimace and his hand on your throat tightened again, making it difficult to breathe. 

"I'm not your husband, you stupid little girl." He chided. "I'm your damnation! I am your life sentence, but you are not mine. Weak little girls don't last long around here, especially when they don't know when to shut the fuck up!" His words were harsh, but his voice was low, like he didn't want anyone else to hear but you. 

Your eyes studied his face as he let you go. He got off of you quickly and sat at the side of the bed. You stayed laying down for a while, silently counting your blessings. 

"If you are a monster, why did you hurt yourself instead of me?" You couldn't hold it in any longer. "Monsters don't know sacrifice..."

He side-eyed you, breathing through his mouth like a true brute. You sat up, rubbing your wrists together to soothe them. "You don't want to hurt me."

"You want me to hurt you MORE, is that it? You crazy, stupid, fucking cunt." He shook his head. 

"I don't want more pain... But, am I..." You looked down at yourself, then residing to cover yourself with your underdress once again, as bloodied as it was. You were feeling incredibly insecure, something you weren't accustomed to. You turned heads, made men and women and children smile at just the sight of you, and even you yourself thought you were above average all dolled up for the big day. He made you feel ugly without saying a word. 

Imagine that. Someone deformed like him and a supposed beauty like you, joined in matrimony. And he will not touch you. Does not want to touch you. In that moment you felt so much smaller than he. You sighed, feeling more comfortable now that you were covered. You looked him in the eyes until he was staring back at you. 

"I am sorry that you are punished with me... I realize you also had no choice in this marriage, and well..." You trailed off, not even sure where you were going with this. "You have been kind. And dutiful, and loyal to your king in spite of the monstrous little shit that he is." You tested, seeing if he would hurt you further. Instead, you saw the smallest crack of a smirk pull on his lips. You looked down abashedly. "I will do my best to be a good partner to you, in whatever capacity you need me..."

He said nothing for the longest time, and you looked up at him once again, in curiosity. He was studying your face in the moonlight. "Are you quite fucking finished?" You nodded quickly. "You talk too much." He chided. 

You couldn't believe it. You breathed out a laugh and he rolled his eyes. He stood and pulled one of the fur blankets off of the bed. 

"Maybe try sleeping in the bed tonight instead of the room I shit in."

You blushed and furrowed your brows at him as he crouched down on the floor, smoothing out the blanket as if it were bedding. Your mouth gaped as he laid down on the floor, closing his eyes. 

"Ser, this is--" "My Lord. It's my lord, when people hear you talking to me, that's what you say. I'm not a ser and I never will be. I ain't no fucking knight..." He paused licking his lips. "But now I'm your husband. To Joffrey and everyone else in the Red Keep, that's what I am. In this room, with me, you can speak freely. Call me what I am. A dog." You leaned over the bed, studying him as he spoke with his eyes closed. He looked so vulnerable down there. "Just don't go on and on." He chided again. 

"Get some sleep. I won't touch ya."

You wanted to speak, but did not know what to say. He rolled over anyways, his back towards you. Finally, you resolved to lie on your back. You closed your eyes and truly believed he would not touch you. You had no fear of it throughout the night. 

The strangest thing, however, was your desire for it. Your dreams that night twisted reality.

~ You were back in that bed, Sandor on top of you, barking down in his usual dog way. Wrists in his grasp, breathing controlled by his pressure on your throat. Your mind, however, changed his form to sink his mouth down onto yours. He swallowed your moans with his kisses and his hand went from your throat to your pert breasts. He squeezed and groaned into your mouth. Finally, he released your hands, and they went straight to his hair, pressing his kiss even harder into yours. "Call me husband again!" He growled when he pulled away, string of saliva connecting you. ~

"Lady Clegane, are you hurt badly?" Anna's voice woke you and you sat up quickly in bed. You watched her rush over to your bedside, and you nearly warned her to avoid stepping on Sandor, but you quickly realized his blanket was back on the bed and he was nowhere to be found. 

"Hmm, what?" You asked, still confused. 

"You were whimpering in your sleep!" Anna explained, looking over you. She gasped lightly at the sight of your neck. "Oh my lady, I am so sorry." She grabbed your hands and slowly led you to the bathroom, where you saw a tub steaming. "It's always the worst the first time, remember. But boy, he really did a number on you." She lifted the dress up over your head slowly, leaving you naked. "I'll launder these with the sheets, My Lady." 

You watched her carry your bloody dress away and found yourself in the broken mirror again. You saw the bruising around your neck and almost felt a thrill. To everyone else, your husband had set up quite the convincing show, and yet he kept your dignity intact. As you slipped into the bath and Anna droned on about the day, trying to distract you, you wondered if Sandor Clegane would ever touch you in the true ways husbands touch their wives. You wondered deeper, why you suddenly wanted him to.

[heich0e]

rintarou's sheets are scratchy.

they're new, and haven't yet gone through the wash enough times to properly soften. they haven't been slept on enough times to be fully broken in. you know he bought them because you always used to tease him about his old sheets: faded with some holes in them—a mismatched fitted sheet and top sheet in two different shades of blue, unbefitting of a grown man making grown man money.

so, he got new ones.

these new sheets are green, in the exact shade you like so much—the one you always point out when the two of you are walking in the park near your office on your lunch break. he sent you a picture of the package when he got them home, fishing for praise you refused to give him for doing the bare minimum. they're nice sheets, though. expensive, organic cotton with a high thread count.

but right now, they're scratchy.

and they're irritating you as you lay tangled up in them, the top sheet wrapped around your waist like a belt and twisted around one of your bare legs. you must have been tossing and turning a lot in your sleep, because when you properly rouse from your slumber to take inventory of your surroundings, the first thing you notice is that you're practically knotted into the stiff, new cotton.

you extract yourself from the blankets, stumbling a little towards the door in a fog, and make your way from rintarou's bedroom in the direction of the kitchen.

"oh," rintarou perks up once you appear around the corner, his eyes bright when they spot you. "you're up."

you shuffle around the kitchen counter towards him, your head heavy and pounding, your mouth dry. you feel nauseated, and without thinking, you slump against him with your forehead pressing into the valley between his shoulder blades. you're confused. you're hungover. but he's warm, and smells like laundry detergent. suddenly you feel a little less queasy.

"what's going on?" you grumble into his back. you peel yourself away from him, blinking slowly, and sweep your gaze around the room to get a better sense of things.

suna holds up a frying pan and a whisk. "i'm cooking!"

you blink again. "okay?"

it's not what you meant when you asked him your first question, but rintarou simply smiles. he has an almost puppy-like personality when he gets like this—you can almost picture ears atop his head and a tail wagging happily as he stares down at you.

"how'd i get here last night?"

rintarou freezes, but only for a moment. he quickly turns his back to you again to continue on whatever misguided culinary adventure he'd been attempting before you woke up. "you were pretty drunk."

"my seniors kept egging me on," you complain, rubbing your forehead as the hazy memory surfaces from the night before. it was a company dinner you couldn't get out of, and it had quickly spiralled out of hand. "i don't even remember leaving."

rintarou laughs a little. but he still won't look at you.

"suna."

he doesn't turn, whisking something you can't identify but that you're almost certain should not be whisked in a bowl in front of him on the counter.

"suna." you repeat yourself again.

suddenly, a wave of nausea overtakes you.

no.

no.

you pat yourself down in search of your phone, but the attempt is useless. you're dressed in one of rintarou's t-shirts and boxers, neither of which come equipped with any pockets, and your phone is nowhere to be found. you whip your head around in search of it, but don't spot it anywhere in the immediate vicinity.

"hey—" rintarou finally looks at you when he senses your alarm, and his tone mirrors your own panic. "don't—!"

you swipe his cellphone off the counter in front of him, using the passcode you'd managed to weasel out of him a few months ago to unlock the device and navigate to his call log. you take off running as you tap your way through the various screens on his phone, but he's quickly in pursuit of you—leaving whatever he'd had on the stove to burn like he world's saddest funeral pyre.

"stop, stop!" rintarou is faster than you are, and has longer legs, but even by the time he catches you, you've already found what you're looking for in his call history. he snakes an arm around your waist, pulling you down onto his sofa with him in the living room, and the two of you land in a tangle of limbs against the cushions, your breathing laboured.

"i didn't make this call, did i?" you ask meekly, pointing at a brief call in the late hours of the night prior that sits at the top of his call history. it's from your number, but you're confident you hadn't been the one to dial.

rintarou pouts a little bit, avoiding your eyes. after a moment he shakes his head. you groan, rolling over on the sofa underneath him and hiding your face in your hands.

"i wasn't even there long, i promise," rintarou says, his voice impossibly close because of the way the two of you are sprawled across the sofa. his breath is warm against the column of your throat when he speaks.

you refuse to look at him.

"i didn't even say anything embarassing."

you still don't budge.

"i made sure to thank your coworkers for calling me to come get you and everything."

your hangover has been overtaken by your own mortification, a horrible heat creeping up your face to accompany the taste of bile in your throat. you've been so, so careful not to let your relationship and your career overlap thus far. so cautious about introducing rintarou into parts of your life that would make it even harder to face if or when the time came that he wasn't around anymore.

"are you embarrassed of me?"

his question makes your chest ache. the way he says it twists the knife.

you lift your face from your hands and peek at him over your shoulder. he's so close that your noses almost brush.

"no." you mean it.

the anxiety in rintarou's gaze eases. he presses closer.

"you sure?"

you narrow your eyes at him. "depends. were you wearing that awful yellow track suit?"

rintarou laughs, all breath, and then dips down to kiss you softly. you want to complain that you haven't even brushed your teeth yet, or that you kind of feel like you might be sick, or that whatever he was trying to cook is on the brink of burning down the building. but you don't. you just let him rest on top of you. you let yourself enjoy it.

when he finally pulls away, rintarou has a somewhat sly smile on his face.

"what, rin?" you ask him gently.

"just wondering if now that i've met your coworkers you're going to let me come visit you at lunch, or if you're still gonna make me hide in the park."

"i like the park," you pout.

because the park is green, the colour you like so much. like rintarou's scratchy bedsheets. and his eyes.

"okay, okay," he laughs, pressing his forehead against yours. "i like the park, too."

[nottskyler]

Dear President Russell M Nelson,

Congratulations on making it to 100. I know it was a significant goal for you and you worked hard both physically and spiritually to make it this far. I know there are a lot of things outside our control to having a long life, but it also takes work.

Thank you for the challenge to read the Book of Mormon before the year was out back in 2018. My life has been irrevocably changed for the better for following that counsel. I learned much about myself and the world and Gd’s plan for me and began a path of repentance that has brought me closer to Christ and brought joy into a life that was characterized by despair before.

And that is simply a personal way that I know you are called of Gd to be our prophet. It is very clear how you were prepared to lead the Church at this time, especially with how your responses to revelation prepared the Church for the pandemic. A pandemic following a change in policy that barred me from sharing the joy that I found by following your counsel. It is sometimes hard to reconcile the exclusionary policy that you have permitted to be put in place under your leadership with my testimony that you are a prophet of Gd because following your counsel led me to Christ and the good things that come from repentance.

It is the same juxtaposition of you having a medical degree and then claiming that life (when the spirit enters the body) begins at conception because a unique genetic code was created. Conception comes before the medical definition of pregnancy which is before the latest point identical twins can be formed. Identical twins are clearly two different spirits with the same genetic code. The truth we learn from science is giving a different truth than the one that you claimed in your press conference on the reversal of roe v wade.

Not to harp on something you said one time not even during General Conference, but I was finally pregnant after years of infertility and it seemed to mock my pain of late periods and failed fertility treatments. I came to the conclusion that you were wrong and speaking your personal opinion and not the thoughts and feelings of Heavenly Father or our Savior Jesus Christ. A conclusion that many would think contradicts my previous statement about believing that you are a prophet of Gd.

But to believe that the prophets can do no wrong is idolatry. To claim that the truth is only what prophets have confirmed first is priestcraft. This is not the Lord’s way who said: “If any man will do his will, he shall know of the doctrine, whether it be of God, or whether I speak of myself.” (John 7:17); “Wherefore by their fruits ye shall know them.” (Matthew 7:20). Or even Moroni closing his addition to the Book of Mormon “And by the power of the Holy Ghost ye may know the truth of all things.” (Moroni 10:5) and “For behold, my brethren, it is given unto you to judge, that ye may know good from evil; and the way to judge is as plain, that ye may know with a perfect knowledge, as the daylight is from the dark night.” (Moroni 7:15).

Besides, how can we be fit for the Celestial Kingdom if we, as individuals of the Church, are to surrender our agency to you and never learn how to discern truth for ourselves. You set yourself up as the king of the Church when you say you are the only source of truth. Then all the sins of those who follow you without question become stains on your garments.

It is a difficult task to reconcile these types of mistakes with someone upholding a high calling that presumably has direct access to Gd, but then I realized that the traditions of our fathers was what made me ignore Gd telling me to repent much earlier than the 2018 Book of Mormon reading challenge. False traditions drain true intent and curiosity when you ask Gd because you feel confident that you know the answer and so you study with bias to confirm your worldview and you don’t have intent to do anything different if the answer isn’t what you expect. False traditions frame revelation so that you ignore key pieces because your mind fills in the default expectation instead of what actually exists in the revelation. In the end, I’m glad that I’m a nobody who only has to deal with the consequences of my own actions instead of being in your shoes where my same mistakes would’ve cause much more damage and would’ve been much harder to change direction when I learned I was wrong.

So I pray that your mind will be open to look past the false traditions of our fathers, to be open to the testimony of those othered by the Church organization. I pray that you realize that what you are doing is priestcraft so that you will swiftly repent and put effort into making sure you aren’t standing between us and Christ. I pray that you will repent in this life so you can share our joy.

Sincerely,

nottskyler