#while it wasn't when i actually started it

[ellewritesx]

teach me slowly

Summary: Harry doesn't mind waiting, as long as it's you he's waiting for. a harry styles x inexperienced!reader series

Warnings: early stages of a relationship, age gap, sexual advances, lots of talk about virginity and sex, that's it for now

Based on: this ask!

A/N: hi lovelies! this is the new series i'll be writing now that we've parted ways with the sugar, baby series for now (sobbing). huge shoutout to anon who submitted the request this is based on. while exaggerating things for fiction is fun, i tried to also be relatively realistic about virginity. tag list is open :) this first part is, as always with my series, kind of a prologue to the story. have fun x

Word Count: 2,529

...

The first time you stopped him, it was subtle. A hand against his chest, a breathless ''maybe not tonight,'' and a kiss that lingered just long enough to prove you still wanted him, just not like that, not right now. He didn't push, didn't ask questions, just smiled against your lips and said, ''Alright, love. Another time.''

It wasn't the last time it happened.

You've been seeing Harry for a few months now, longer than you expected when he'd first spotted you across a room you didn't belong in, some industry party you'd been dragged to by a friend of a friend, too many faces and too many flashes. Harry was in the spotlight, the center of attention, you were hidden away in a dark corner, and yet his eyes managed to find yours through the sea of faces.

When he walked over, laid-back, confident, too pretty for his own good, you expected it to be fleeting. Maybe flirtation, a drink or two, something to roll your eyes about later.

But then he asked for your number. And not even two days later, he actually used it. And now here you are, tucked under his arm with his heartbeat thudding steadily beneath your ear.

It's late. A slow Friday night, the familiar sounds of reruns of Friends filling Harry's apartment as you're curled into his side, your fingers absently tracing a pattern against the slope of his ribs. The scent of cheap takeout still lingers in the air, mixing with the cologne he wore earlier, now faded into the cotton of his worn-in hoodie.

You feel it when his hand shifts. When it goes from lazily draped around your waist to something more deliberate, fingers tracing a purposeful path under the hem of your sweatshirt.

He leans down, pressing his lips to yours, making you smile at the faint taste of wine still lingering on his tongue. Your breath hitches, deepening the kiss, one hand fisting in his shirt. His hands graze your bare skin, curling at your waist, pressing you closer to him.

But the moment they start to travel higher, sliding up your midriff toward your chest like it's second nature, your stomach drops, and before you've fully thought it through, your hand slides over his and stops him, gently, but definitively.

''Sorry,'' you whisper against his lips, squeezing your eyes shut so you don't have to see the disappointment likely flashing across his face. ''I… Sorry, can we not tonight?''

Harry opens his eyes, confusion etched into his features like he was just abruptly woken from a peaceful dream. He blinks down at you, clearly startled by your tone. ''Yeah, of course,'' he says, pulling his hand back immediately. ''You okay?''

You nod quickly ''Yeah. Just… tired.''

It's not a lie. But it's not the whole truth either. You feel him hesitate, like he wants to press, wants an explanation, answers, but chooses not to. Just kisses the top of your head and settles back into the cushions, shifting so you're still cuddled into his side.

The silence stretches between you, not uncomfortable, but different now. Tense. Loaded. You let it sit there, unsure how to break it. Not yet, at least. But soon. You have to.

It takes you a few more minutes, waiting for the episode to end, for Harry's breathing to even out slightly, having willed away his arousal. When you turn your head to look at him, he's watching you with the kind of quiet patience you've come to recognize.

''I need to tell you something,'' you say finally. Your voice doesn't shake, but your heart is beating erratically. You sit up on the couch, just enough to give yourself some room to breathe. ''I've been meaning to. I just... I didn't know how.''

Harry sits back a little, his hand moving to lightly rest on your leg, calming you. Concern flickers across his eyes, focused frown on his face, his curiosity piqued. ''Okay. What is it?''

You push your hair behind your ear, fingers suddenly clammy. ''I've... I've noticed you've tried to take things further a few times now. And I always stop you.''

His eyes stay on yours, steady, unreadable. ''Yeah. I've noticed. I don't mind waiting, love.''

You inhale. ''It's not that I don't want to. It's just… I've never actually done it before.''

For a moment, Harry says nothing. His brows knit together, like he's processing, like the words don't quite click at first. Then something shifts. Not judgment, not disgust, just genuine surprise.

''You mean… you're a virgin?''

You nod once, jaw tight. Your heart stutters, bracing yourself for his inevitable rejection, already regretting bringing it up. ''Yeah.''

There's a pause. A long one.

But then Harry exhales, a soft smile tugging at his lips, head ducking to meet your gaze. ''Okay,'' he says softly. ''That's okay.''

You blink at him. ''You're not weirded out?''

He smiles, kind. ''No, of course not. I just… I wasn't expecting it. You're so confident. So sure of yourself. I guess I assumed…''

''That I'd done all of that already?'' you finish for him, smiling weakly.

He shrugs. ''Yeah. Doesn't change anything, though.''

Your bite your lip. ''You're older than me. More experienced. I thought maybe you'd be… disappointed.''

''I'm not,'' he tells you firmly, his hand finding yours, leaving no room for your doubts and fears.

You swallow the lump in your throat, feeling the warmth of his raw honesty settle somewhere deep in your chest.

Then, a beat later, his voice drops slightly, light-hearted but still earnest. ''So… would you want me to be your first?''

You look up at him, fidgeting with your fingers anxiously. ''I don't know. But if I did… would you want to be?''

His eyes search yours. ''If you decided you wanted that, I'd be honored.''

You sigh in relief. After the initial heaviness of the moment has passed and you've both found your way back into the soft cushions of the couch, it's quiet for a while. Not the kind of silence that stretches with discomfort, but something gentler. Pensive.

His fingers trace idle shapes over the back of your hand, and every now and then you catch him glancing at you like he's thinking about saying something, but keeps deciding against it.

Until finally, he does.

''Can I ask you something?'' His voice is soft, almost sheepish. Like he's worried you might shut down again.

You turn to face him, tugging the throw blanket around your legs a little higher. ''Of course.''

His thumb slides along your knuckles, thoughtful. ''Are you saving yourself for marriage? Or was it just... situational?''

The question doesn't surprise you. You were expecting it. Still, there's something about him saying it aloud that makes your chest ache. It's the explanation people seem to instantly assume, like there couldn't be any other possible reason to not want to have sex in your early twenties. The prejudice bothers you sometimes.

You shake your head with a chuckle. ''Not marriage, no. I just…'' You pause, choosing your words carefully. ''I never found someone I wanted to give it to. It never felt right. It always felt like… I don't know, something I'd be giving away for the wrong reason.''

Harry nods like that makes perfect sense, like you've just confirmed something he suspected about you all along. That you don't move through the world withholding things, you move through it protecting them. ''You wanted it to matter.''

''Yeah.'' You smile faintly. ''I guess I figured that the first time should be something I remember fondly. Not something I regretted five minutes after.''

''That makes sense,'' he says, reaching up to brush a fallen strand of hair out of your face. ''I kind of figured something was holding you back. I just didn't know if it was because you were nervous, or waiting for something specific… or someone specific.''

Your cheeks flush. ''I guess it's both.''

A smile spreads across his face, slow and reverent. ''And you think that... might be me?''

You glance away, trying not to look too embarrassed. ''Maybe,'' you admit quietly, before glancing at him, raising a brow. ''And you? First time with someone special?''

He huffs out a laugh, scratching at the side of his jaw. ''Not exactly. I was young, dumb, and too eager to impress someone older than me. Regret's not the word, but I wouldn't say it was magical.''

You both laugh softly at that, and the tension that had crept in between your ribs eases again. There's a pause. He meets your eyes carefully, trying to phrase his question without making you squirm. ''Have you ever... touched yourself?''

The heat rises to your cheeks instantly, not from shame, but from the sheer boldness of the question. Your relationship with Harry is still relatively new, and for a moment, you don't know how to respond.

Your eyes flicker down to the curve of his smile, cheeky but careful, like he's testing the waters. You tuck your knees up slightly under the blanket. ''I mean... Yeah, of course.''

That earns you a grin. He shifts slightly, propping himself up on one elbow so he can look at you properly, his other hand rubbing up and down your arm soothingly. ''And? Has it ever felt... good?''

Your eyes narrow a little, teasing. ''Are you asking if I've had an orgasm before?''

''Yeah,'' he admits, unabashed now. ''Not trying to be weird. I just want to know where we're starting from.''

You shrug, a bit self-conscious. ''I think I've had a few? But like… nothing crazy. I don't know if it's something wrong with me or—''

''Hey,'' he cuts you off gently, hand brushing your hip. ''There's nothing wrong with you. You know that, right?''

You nod, but it feels like a reflex, not something you fully believe yet. He must sense it, because he dips forward and presses a kiss to your shoulder, warm and grounding. Then another, just beneath your jaw. ''It's harder for women, y'know? But it'll get better. Some things just take time. Patience. And the right person. I'm glad you've tried.''

You snort. ''Why? Would it have been a red flag if I'd said no?''

He chuckles, pressing another sweet kiss against your skin before pulling back. ''No, not a red flag. I just think it's important. Knowing your own body. Knowing what feels good.''

There's something so matter-of-fact in the way he says it that it makes the conversation feel less intimidating. Less taboo. You inhale deeply, a weight lifted off your shoulders now, and you run your fingers along his biceps to ground yourself.

''I haven't explored much. It felt... underwhelming. But with the way everyone raves about sex, I must be doing something wrong.''

His thumb stills over your hand, his expression softening. ''That's okay. It'll be different when you're with someone else. With me.''

You glance at him, curious. ''How so?''

He shifts toward you, arm slung over the back of the couch now. ''It's a mix of things. Trust. Communication. Timing. Like… it's not just friction, right? It's being seen. It's vulnerability. Intimacy. And if that isn't there, if you don't feel comfortable, it's hard to get there.''

Your stomach flutters at the way he says it, so attentive, so considerate. ''That's kind of what I'm scared of. That it'd be awkward. Or disappointing.''

Harry's voice dips lower, more serious now. ''It doesn't have to be. Especially if you're honest. If we are.''

You tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ear and smile bashfully, ''That's what I want, I think. Just... honesty. I don't want to have to pretend I know everything. Because I don't, and I don't want to have to act, to perform.''

He nods, the corner of his mouth tugging into something fond. ''I don't want you to do that either.''

You settle into the cushions, knee brushing his thigh. ''Have you ever been with someone inexperienced before?''

He thinks for a second, then shakes his head. ''Not really, no. I mean, I've been with people who had less experience than me, sure. But never… never someone completely new to it.''

Your eyes find his again. ''Does that scare you?''

He gives you a look, a lopsided smile on his face. ''No. If anything, it makes me want to be better. I want to make it good for you.''

That does something to you, sends a warmth crawling up your spine. ''You're already doing everything right, Harry.''

''Am I?'' he teases, bumping his shoulder with yours.

You laugh shyly. ''Yeah. You ask questions. You listen. You make me feel… like it's okay to not have all the answers yet.''

''It is okay,'' he reiterates.

You smile gratefully, but your insecurity creeps back in quickly. Your voice is timid when you speak again. ''So you don't think it's weird? That I haven't… done any of it?''

''Not even a little,'' he says, cupping your face gently, thumb brushing along your cheekbone. ''I think it's admirable, actually. You're twenty-three, and you've gone this long without letting someone touch you, just because nobody earned it? That's sexy as hell.''

You huff out a laugh, surprised. ''Really?''

''Really,'' he says, lips quirking. ''It means you know your worth. You know what you want. I wish I'd had your strength of will at that age.''

You smile gratefully, tension slowly uncoiling from your shoulders. ''Thanks. I don't always feel that way.''

Harry dips his head down, pressing a short, sweet kiss against your lips, effectively shutting up your mind. He sinks back into the couch with a satisfied smirk, cushions dipping under his weight.

You swallow nervously. ''Hey, just out of curiosity. What… what would you have done if I'd told you I was waiting for marriage?''

He raises a brow. ''You mean, like… completely off-limits?''

You nod.

He considers that. ''I would've respected it. Obviously. But I probably would've asked what else we could do instead. Would still want to be close to you, in whatever way you'd be comfortable with.''

You nod. ''I think that's the thing. I do want to be close. I just… I want it to mean something.''

He hums in response. There's a peaceful silence then. You're both thinking, processing. It's the kind of silence that only happens when you feel truly at ease with someone.

''So… if we did want to start exploring things… slowly…''

He grins, just a little. ''Want me to teach you, huh?''

You roll your eyes. ''Don't make it a thing.''

He lifts both hands in surrender, chuckling softly. ''We'll go at your pace. Whatever that looks like. You just tell me, yeah?''

You nod, the corners of your mouth tugging into a fond smile. ''Thanks, Harry. For being cool about all this.''

He scoffs. ''I'm not being cool,'' he says. ''I'm being decent. What kind of idiots have you been surrounding yourself with?''

That earns him a playful shove, but he catches your wrist and kisses the inside of it, right where your pulse flutters at the touch. His eyes flick up to yours, warm and steady.

''Whenever you're ready, love,'' he says softly.

...

thank you so much for reading! i appreciate any and all support so remember to like, comment and reblog. requests are open! 💕

general tag list @2601-london @mads3502 @angeldavis777 @run-for-the-hills @postsexfistbump @hobireasns @madilee7802 @spinninc @practistyles @qrapejuices @fangirl509east @sstylezzz @hontpwk @lichi-dunkera

...

[rnbwtrout]

Offering unsolicited advice muahaha

I recommend trying to sketch it out, and work out what exactly you need to learn to achieve the vision, then take a bit of time to study those elements. Then come back to your drawings and try again. Oftentimes the inability to represent something artistically is just that you don't understand how it is actually drawn/shaded. Art is a skill above anything else and as such it needs to be trained and practiced to really be understood. Treat art like a science, trial and error some things and tweak some things, and, maybe not immediately, but over time you WILL get to a point where the visions in your head can be put on paper effectively. The secret though is to not get caught up in perfection, just get as close as possible. When it does click it's so fulfilling, it just takes a bit of a grind.

Example: I'm working on a series of FMAB fight scene redraws; I'm trying to rework the perspective for the scenes entirely. Mostly because I'm a try-hard lol. I started with one and realized I didn't even know where to begin. My grasp of perspective wasn't great, and my understanding of posing wasn't great. So I stepped away for a while to work with the scene elements in a perspective grid, and to understand some poses better. Came back to the idea a couple weeks later and it looks about 85% what I envisioned. Here's where I'm currently at; this is still just the draft, some things still need tweaking, haven't gotten to line art or shading yet. But it's leagues above where I started a few weeks ago.

And here's some of the pages of tweaking and studying I did to get to this point:

If you don't know what to study to figure out how to achieve your vision, I highly recommend browsing other artists who break down their techniques and methods. I started using the 5 point fish eye perspective grid for scenes because I saw another artist use it well in a way that made sense to me. I still don't understand it fully, you can see my envisioned perspective on the Mustang vs Lust drawing is actually not what I was putting in the perspective grid at all LOL. But even still, working with it and thinking through it still helped me envision what I needed to do better. I spent a good 3-5 hours on those perspective grid just redrawing boxes to understand where to place the characters effectively. And it was tedious, but by the time I got to actually redrawing the scenes a bunch of things suddenly made sense. And even still, the perspective isn't perfect, but it doesn't matter because it's close enough and still achieves the vision.

That all being said: just grinding usually doesn't help. You need to grind with a purpose and a vision in mind. I see people say "to learn perspective you need to draw a bunch of boxes in perspective over and over". Which has always felt pointless to me. But in this case, I made huge improvements in my understanding of perspective by drawing these boxes because I had a specific intent and vision in mind for what they represented.

Tl;dr: Grind it out!!! Art isn't talent it's a skill, study it!

Having a sickass art idea that haunts your every waking moment but lacking the talent to fully idealize it in your exact vision

[nightplvmes]

MORNING (fluff)

Rafayel one shot ⋆｡° | pairing : rafayel x fem!reader (third person pov) ⋆｡° | word count : 1k ⋆｡° | fluff, lazy morning, clingy rafa likes and reblogs are appreciated!! ★ masterlist here

She was about to fall asleep, her eyes slightly closed, until she felt hands around her. A yawn escaped her lips and she turned to look over her shoulder. Rafayel was trying to make room for him on the bed.

She shifted and crawled to the center of the bed to make room for him. Seconds later, she felt his weight on the bed. His arms wrapped around her again, this time pulling her closer to him. It was cold, and his warmth was actually comforting. She yawned and shifted gently in his arms so she could turn until she was facing him.

"I thought you were going to work," she murmured in her sleepy voice. She didn't know how long ago Rafayel had started his morning routine, but she knew it had been long enough for her to fall into a deep sleep for at least a few minutes.

"I work at home," he replied, causing his girlfriend to roll her eyes. He knew what she meant: starting some paintings he had pending. He already knew what she meant, but he liked to tease her every time she asked the same question.

"You know what I mean."

Rafayel nodded, pressing his body against hers. He buried his face in the crook of her neck, smelling her scent. There was a peculiar scent she had every time she woke up, and it had become his favorite. He'd mentioned it to her once. "Yeah, I just… wanted to say good morning to you."

"It doesn't count as good morning if you wake me up." She gasped when Rafayel pulled her against him again. She knew there was something more to it. It didn't have to be something bad, exactly, but she knew it wasn't just Rafayel wanting to say good morning to her. "What's wrong?"

He sighed when he stopped hiding his face to look at her. "I wanted to spend some more time with you," he admitted. "Besides, you smell so good. I hate that you smell so good," he complained before burying his face in her neck again, inhaling her scent.

She smiled, trying to wriggle in his arms, but Rafayel was stronger than her, and there wasn't much she could do while she was still sleepy. "You're late. Thomas called me yesterday asking if you'd thrown away your phone because you weren't answering." It had become a habit to call her when Rafayel didn't answer, which was… often when he was with her.

"One day won't change anything." He stopped hiding his face again, this time to place a kiss on her cheek. "It's your fault for smelling so good," he complained… again.

She laughed again; his lips tickled her, but she didn't dare push him away. She turned her face to look at him, but Rafayel took the opportunity to press his lips against hers, a small, lazy kiss. Like those kisses you give when you know there's more to come.

"You can do many things in one day." She shook her head. He had that look on his face that told her he wasn't leaving her side anytime soon. "I promise to stop showering and rolling in mud next time," she joked, causing her boyfriend to snort and her to giggle.

"Do that, and I'll put you in the shower myself." He squeezed her hips, and she raised an eyebrow, sensing that his words actually had a double meaning. "I didn't mean that, but you could put it into practice right now."

"Stop it, you have work." She shook her head. It wasn't that she didn't really like the idea of taking a bath together, but she hated being the reason he wanted to stay in bed all day or preferred to spend his time with her and was now he had pending work.

Rafayel nodded, giving up. He wouldn't get anywhere fighting with his girlfriend, especially since he knew she was right; he couldn't keep putting off work. "Fine." He sighed in frustration and placed one last kiss on her cheek before getting out of bed.

She watched as he left the room after a few seconds. The room fell silent, and she felt guilty for practically kicking him out of bed when she really would have liked to be curled up next to him for the rest of the morning.

She let out a yawn and shifted back in bed to settle in and sleep for another couple of hours. She was still tired; she could feel it throughout her body, but when she settled under the sheets and closed her eyes, sleep never came. Minutes passed, and if she continued like this, she was sure it would be hours, but she couldn't go back to sleep. All she could think about was Rafayel and how much she missed his warmth.

She gave up and got out of bed, having to tiptoe as the cold from the floor penetrated her feet. It took her a couple of seconds to reach the big room where Rafayel usually worked. Despite the quietness, he felt her presence almost immediately.

"Wouldn't you go back to sleep?" Rafayel's question echoed throughout the room even though he was facing away from her, preparing the materials he would use for his next painting.

"It's your fault, you made me wake up," she replied, and now it was her arms that wrapped around him from behind. He smiled and one of his hands wrapped around hers to bring it to his lips, placing a soft kiss there.

Was she too needy? Was there something wrong with wanting to be close to her boyfriend on certain days? It wasn't that she couldn't be without him; she could survive perfectly without him; she just preferred not to.

He guided her to the chair in front of the blank canvas and made a space for her on his lap, as he had done so many times before. She rested her head on his shoulder, her gaze fixed on the canvas, waiting to see the beginning of his next work.

And spending the morning on her boyfriend's lap, receiving his kisses, seemed like the perfect way to start the day.

[callsign-swan]

Dick Diaries: Bob Floyd

I can't find the 141 post that inspired this but i wanna write a 'Dick Diaries' for the Lew characters I write for. also, i found out just before posting this that this is happy 500!!

18+, smut, creampie, breeding kink, period sex, oral

Bob Floyd has a big dick. Thick and long all at once. It was easily hidden beneath sweetness, beneath keeping to himself, beneath his uniform.

Bob Floyd's wife is all too aware of how thick Bob's dick is. Their first time together wasn't easy.

It was back when they were dating. Not planned, a spur of the moment thing after a dinner date. She was in his lap, him pinned beneath her on the bed. Jesus fuck, the feeling of him growing in his trousers.

He was above her, her ankles on his shoulders. She had started with her hands gripping the sheets as Bob touched her, but now her fingers were laced over her stomach as they struggled. "Fuck, sweetheart," he said through a breath, his head falling forward. "'s not gonna fit."

Removing her ankles from his shoulders, she pulled him towards her. Wrapping her arms around his neck, she kissed him. A reassurance that it was okay, that she loved him and his third leg.

So Bob Floyd dropped to his knees. He would later say (to nobody but her) that, as he began eating her out, he knew she was the woman he was going to marry. The way she writhed while he had his mouth on her, her hands in his hair, he knew.

It got easier each time. On the second time they went to have sex, Bob managed to get inside of her. It was a squeeze, for sure, and he was unable to move once he was inside, giving her time to adjust.

Sharp breaths as she squeezed his wrist. But Bob wasn't going to go anywhere, not until she wanted him to move.

Bob Floyd loves all parts of fucking his wife. Undressing her slowly, squeezing the flesh of her ass in his palm, holding her hip as she wrapped her legs around him. Kissing her skin, leaving marks that were for his eyes only.

Dropping to his knees, eating her out slowly until her legs shook against his head. His fingers inside of her as he listened to every desperate noise she released as he opened her up. Bullying his thick cock inside of her, holding it still while she adjusted, rutting his hips against her.

Bob Floyd is a creampie man. (Actually, most of them are creampie men. Please check out THIS post by @lewmagoo). I think by now we all know how... virile Bob is. The man has three kids before the time he's thirty.

He loves creampie-ing his wife. Finishing inside of her, pulling out to watch it drip. Fucking hell. That sight was enough to get him going again. To push her past overstimulation, until she could babble out nothing but his name as he filled her with another load.

Did someone say breeding kink go brrr? ("Gonna make you a daddy." "Fuck." "Gonna put another baby in me?" "Fuck!")

Yeah, it's no surprise they have an army of kids.

(I've been asked to cover period sex with Bob). It can't be understated that, whatever Mrs Floyd wants, Mrs Floyd gets. Including period sex.

Its gentle, its loving and it's lowkey messy. But thats fine, but Bob is happy to put a towel down and get to work. He's happy to clean her up afterwards, to hold her up in the shower, her legs exhausted as she cleaned herself. But her period horny-ness had been sated, for now.

Bob Floyd is the KING of aftercare. It has become a ritual at this point. Sweet kisses, reassurance that she did so good for him, that she can come down. He cleans her up with a cloth first while the bath fills. Candles, bubble bath, music playing from the bathroom speaker.

Besides actually having sex with his wife, sitting in the bath with her was Bob's favourite thing. They stay in there until they're both clean, and then some. Until the water is cold and they both begin shivering.

I could go on. There is so much more I could say in the Dick Diaries of Bob Floyd. But we would be here all day

[un-fwuit-un-fwog]

Leona flood incoming!

Leona with a f!reader who can read people super well, very gifted in body language and reading between the lines.

So, hear me out ...it's cannon he likes to work for his success, not just have it easy or instant. There's no fun in that. Make him sweat dear reader!

He is getting away with nothing. Nada. Poor lion has met his match. Talks a big game, he's a strategist, used to being the one who can see between the lines. And boom, he's blind sided and suddenly He's the one stumbling. He's met his match. And worse, she's subtle about it. Checkmate. 💘

So, this took me way too long to get to. . .SORRY!!

Anyway, love this idea! Leona doesn't talk a ton, so someone who can read him is a perfect match!

Synopsis: Leona mentally kicks himself as he finds himself becoming more and more partial to the prefect with the piercing gaze he swore to avoid. The Prefect thinks he's just terrible at flirting (he is).

TW: Leona yells at one point but it's quickly glossed over (his anger is quelled by a lil smooch)

Pairing: Leona Kingscholar x Reader Who Can Read Him

It started just before Leona's overblot. Your friend had been taunting him but just as he was on the verge of snapping, you, out of nowhere, dragged them off. That wasn't all that odd, what was; however, was the look in your eyes. He only made eye contact with you for a brief moment, but when he did, it felt like your eyes saw into the very depths of his soul.

Leona DIDN'T like that.

The Next time it happened was as he was overblotting. Just as the viscous black ink began to surround his body, he made eye contact with you.

There was that feeling again.

After his overblot, he decided it'd be best to avoid the little magicless prefect with the unsettling stare.

That didn't happen.

In fact, he was forced much closer to you when your dorm was seized by Octavinelle and that left you to have to stay in the same room as him.

You seemed to predict every movement, change in emotion, and even thought. It's not like you were using this ability maliciously, quite the opposite actually. You used it to help him out more than anything else.

But Leona wasn't used to being seen. Not like this at least. As a prince he was used to being looked at, but never truly seen.

One evening the two of you were sitting in his room doing your own things when he started to feel hungry. Just as that feeling struck you walked into the room (when had you left?!) with snacks. You handed him one. It happened to be his favorite.

A shiver jolted through his spine.

"You good?" you look up at him.

He just huffs and rolls in bed to face away from you.

He thought he had gotten rid of you when you got your dorm back, but it appeared the gods simply hated him.

Crowley instated you as the spelldrive club's manager.

And, of course, you somehow managed to always carry out his orders before he could even give them.

It was after a spelldrive game that the next incident happened. The team had won an overwhelming victory. Everyone was in high spirits and Leona's smirk was cockier that ever.

You approached him in a moment when he was away from the rest of the team and gave his a detailed record of the game. That was pretty normal. What was strange was what you said "The team we face next week will be much tougher than the one we just faced. If we go in with this game in mind we'll be crushed. I set up a practice match with a team on a slightly higher level than the team we face next week so we don't get too comfortable."

And with that, you walked away. You just casually walked away after telling Leona exactly what was on his mind.

A chill.

This continued to happen over and over again. It was to the point that Leona was now questioning his lifelong dream of becoming king. Being seen by someone was just too unsettling.

It was family day at NRC and while Leona's family had promised to come, there was royal business they had to attend to last minute.

Most assumed Leona was elated as he wasn't exactly shy about expressing his distaste for his relatives. His face didn't show any clues that the assumption was false either as it was as stoic as always.

So why was it that when he came back to his room from begrudgingly greeting all the families who came to see his dormmates he saw you? Why did he see you sitting on the edge of his freshly made bed with freshly fluffed pillows, his favorite meal, and a set up chess board?

Why did the chill feel less unpleasant this time?

This was Leona's nightmare. No, not being up at 1:00 in the morning unable to sleep. Leona realized he liked you romantically. Out of all people, why did it have to he the one person he knew he couldn't hide anything from?!

For weeks after this realization he did his best to avoid you. When you greeted him he just gave a short huff. When you sat next to him during joint lessons his tail would flick and he would refuse to look at or talk to you. To everyone else, it looked like Leona had finally had enough and was shunning you.

It all bubbled up when he was leaving the locker room after spelldrive practice and saw you waiting for him on a bench. "Ah, you're done-"

"Would you just leave me alone?!" you weren't sure if it would be more accurate to compare his tone to a roar or a growl, but whatever it was, it sent all the nearby birds careening out of the trees.

Leona panted as he watched you agitatatedly.

Sure, you winced a little when he yelled, but you didn't run. In fact, after the initial shock, you didn't look scared either.

You casually stood up, stretched, and approached him. You stopped a few feet away before speaking: "Why would you ask me to do that if you have a crush on me? Is this some new weird confession tactic?"

He froze.

"What?"

"Whaddya mean 'what?' You've been really obvious, you know."

Leona started pacing, his tail flicking violently as he muttered to himself. "Why didn't you say something!?" he finally paused his ranting and pacing to yell.

"I thought you were just bad at flirting."

His eye twitches at that comment.

However, as he's about to open his mouth to speak, you grab his collar and pull him down to your level. Before he can react, he feels soft lips meeting his. He only realizes what's happening when you begin to pull away and he tries to chase your lips.

"Well, that's my confession" you yawn. You YAWN. You just kissed him and now you're yawning.

He's not even surprised when you read his shift in mood instantly "It's late and chasing someone playing hard to get is tiring."

Leona's eye twitches once more before he throws you over his shoulder and starts marching towards his dorm "I guess we should take a nap then, shouldn't we?" it wasn't really a question as much as it was a passive aggressive remark.

"Sure."

From that position, you couldn't see the blush rapidly creeping onto his face.

"So, we're dating now?"

"The h*ll do you think, Herbivore" the lion grumbles into your chest as his tail swishes agitatedly. You might have even thought he was upset if it wasn't for the way his arms wrapped tightly around you and his face pressed deeply into your chest. Just to test it, you slowly began removing your hand from where it was tangled into his unruly locks only to have him growl at you until you put it back.

Sure, sometimes it was impressive that you could read him, but other times he really was just too obvious.

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[hopegrasping]

Hii a lot of you seem to not get what I mean by this. I'm not saying shitty looking diy are bad. And the ppl making your clothes in the first place that I'm referring to is. Sweat Shop Labor. And while I wasn't As Specific As I Could Possibly Be, I'm kind of shocked none of y'all got this. Harsh reality is, a lot of us Are buying fast fashion pieces at least a few times a year,, ESPECIALLY those of us who are beginners bc !!! Most beginners Don't have the community and resources needed to diy or ask a neighbor. Most of my time avoiding fast fashion has been me spending HOURS of my time thrifting for Years. Bc I was Scared to Look Even More Raggedy than I Already Was. This wasn't caring about fitting in or even about what other people thought. Where I grew up it was either Look Alright (which ie. for me meant Don't Be Symptomatic Of Your Circumstances. It's a pretty backwards bullshit rule ik, too bad we share a world with all the stereotypical assholes you see in the movies. hardly any exaggeration to their cruelty if you haven't already experienced it first hand, like those examples are Barely fictional most times if at all) or... Get Fucked. And that's the case for A Lot of people. Part of being alternative requires the critical thinking to at least be aware of that.

A lot of you have really gotta take a step back when interacting with posts that are in ur community tags. We are neighbors. You are preaching to a choir and accusing your missionaries of blasphemy. Some posts are for beginners who are still scared to "look bad" bc Outside Of Very Specific Online Spaces, regardless of how nice the people YOU know, a lot of us are actually still being ridiculed and shat on for posting our diys. Have you ever been on tt? It's NOT pretty. Ppl eat beginners Alive if they post outside of designated community tags.

So no, it's not bad for diys to look like shit. We as a community literally like that here. But *DIY* will not *INHERENTLY* look *SHIT*. With the exception of people with disabilities that literally prevent them from doing so (and that's Not *All* disabled people btw, you know your limitations better than anyone else fr), most people WILL get better over time. This post is for the people who needed a reason to keep going, not for u to tell me things looking like shit is fine actually SOME PEOPLE DISAGREE! And it's important that we acknowledge that we live in a world of shitheads AND that some people just. Have Preferences.

The idea that diy looks like shit 100% of the time isn't what we need. Diy is For Everyone and that means we need to include ppl who aren't even in our circles. And in order to do that we do need to be encouraging towards people who Actively Want To Learn This Skill.

Everybody likes talking community and how we can all play our part but sometimes I feel like we really hold each other back when it comes to really learning skills beyond the bare bones basics. You want a community sewist? They need to know from the start that they can do a good job even if it'll take some time. Because if they feel like, and read this literally, every last one of their diy projects is going to turn out Shit.. they're Not going to feel comfortable offering their services to anyone. I Know it took a lot for most of us to get comfortable with looking grungy, or maybe it didn't and you've always liked the messy imperfect look. Some people are literally different than you and need a little friendly support pleaseeee stop assuming the worst from people it's Really annoying.

Let go of the idea that diy will inherently look shit. All your clothes are handmade you just don't see the people doing it.

[clanwarrior-tumbly]

I see forsaken...here's one!! Characters of your choosing (survivor and killers are fine) with a reader who has an "identity switch"? Idk if they're in other asym horror games but identity switches are from identity v and basically mean that the character is both a killer and survivor...as far as I know there's not a whole lot if lore on identity switches :p I just thibk it'd be juicy drama when one of your allies just starts hunting you down one day and the next they're doing machines like nothing ever happened

Ohh yeah I can just imagine the angst/drama that would come with it! I'll just do 3 survivors

..........

Noob

Before being forsaken, your identity varied between a normal-looking survivor and a monstrous hunter/killer, the latter of which you vowed to never use again unless it was a matter of life or death.

The Spectre found you to be particularly intriguing, deciding to let you keep that role with merely a small change:

You'd forget your previous identity whenever you switched between survivor/killer....which was just about every other round.

Unfortunately you wouldn't realize this until much later, after meeting Noob and befriending them and the others.

Their spirits seemed down lately, but within your first few conversations with them, you got them to smile and even laugh a little--and for a moment, everything seemed okay...

Until you're warped into damnation and have to fix the generators whilst a killer runs amok, reminding you that this was ultimately your new life now.

Usually Noob is fine on their own, with bloxy cola and ghostburgers to keep them "out of sight, out of mind", although you still try your best to protect them.

But one night, you enter the fray looking awfully different, and at first they think nothing of it, assuming you're using your powers to protect them....until they made the mistake of turning their back, as you struck them once and sent them running away from the generator. Yet you followed their every move, knowing how much they prioritized the machines.

And despite their pleas for you to recognize them, you murdered them as though you didn't know them at all.

Back in the cabin, Noob was rightfully scared of you. They didn't think it was possible for someone to be both survivor and killer.

And that begs the question....who's side were you really on? Why did they trust you?

You didn't understand why they were starting to avoid you over the next few days, and why they yelled at you to "go away" when you try helping them with a generator.

Eventually, you confronted them and they broke down, explaining how you killed them so brutally, not even recognizing them, and you look utterly confused.

That made no sense. You were the monster? Like the corrupted John Doe? Like the hate-filled 1x4??? You don't even remember ever switching to that form...

You could never fathom hurting Noob, and you apologize and try to comfort them, unable to believe that was you....and they become confused, too.

It takes a few more rounds for them to realize you genuinely couldn't remember switching to your killer identity and you'd even forget the conversations you both had about this subject.

You'd keep asking why Noob was scared of you, and they'd explain it again and again. It made you feel guilty, knowing that some higher being was messing with your memories and powers, forcing you to hurt your friends. You assured them that if you targeted them next time, it wasn't anything personal.

Sometimes, they found that hard to believe.

Eventually, they learned how to anticipate your attacks so they didn't die to you as much, although your appearance still scares them.

Guest 1337

Despite his gruff and intimidating appearance, Guest could see how anxious you were about spawning into this new place. He was was actually one of the first survivors to talk to you and help you feel welcomed among the group.

When you're getting chased by the killer, he takes the blow and sends them flying a few feet away....and while you're grateful on the outside, on the inside you're sweating, feeling lucky that he doesn't know about your identity switch just yet. You planned to tell him before being abruptly thrown into damnation, but now you were afraid getting knocked into next weekend.

Unfortunately for you, him, and every other survivor...you appear as the next round's killer and begin hunting him down specifically, taunting him and calling him a "pathetic meatshield", destined to fail his comrades, threatening to break every bone in his hands so he'd be useless and helpless.

Insults typically didn't bother him, but the fact that it's coming from you, someone he thought to be a friend and ally, cut deep.

With perfect timing, one of your abilities is strong enough to counter his punch, even if he blocked your attack successfully. And if he didn't get out of the way....he was dead in the blink of an eye.

Back at the cabin, Guest looks shocked when you're back to normal, sitting by the fireplace. Then he gets annoyed when you asked why he looked so grim.

"Do the words "pathetic meatshield" ring a bell?" He grunts, his eyebrow raised as your confusion grows. "Now's not the time to play dumb. Why didn't you tell us you could be both killer and survivor?"

"....what?" Your eyes widen. "How...did you know?"

".....seriously? This isn't funny. It was clearly you who murdered me last round." He removes his gloves to show you the scars on his hands, inflicted by you. "You threatened to break every bone I had. And now you're acting like nothing happened?"

"I did that...? That's..no. That's insane! I-It's true I have an identity switch power, but I swore off on being a killer! Why....Why would I do that to you? Why would I say those awful things?"

In that moment, Guest sees you clutching your head, genuinely looking upset about what your killer-self did, as though they were a separate person.

As more matches continued, he began to understand that you'd become amnesic every round. You'd counter his punches as killer one moment, and the next you're repairing the generators as survivor, asking for his protection like you didn't just insult his entire bloodline yesterday.

Like Noob, Guest learns how to counter your attacks better, and he informs the others so they knew that you weren't trying to hurt them on purpose. He knows you don't truly mean those terrible words.

But he hesitates to open up anymore to you, uncertain whether he has to perceive you as an ally or enemy in the next damnation.

Taph

The mute demolitionist was someone who you originally thought was a killer, but you learned very quickly that you shouldn't judge appearances...as he was actually very sweet to you.

With him sticking by your side during your first round, you learned how this "death game" worked and how his contraptions ensured your safety, making you feel better about fixing generators.

He lays down nearby tripwires while you're working, and threw a subspace tripmine at Jason (who's been targeting you for a while, able to sense that you were "new"), buying you lots of time to escape and heal.

You were grateful for Taph's protection and repaid him by following up with an attack if he managed to stun Jason.

However, when he doesn't find you anywhere next round, he assumes you were killed off already and feels sad....until he sees you in the distance, coming towards him.

But you look...different.

He gets the tripwire ready--only for you to slash through it like paper, and he stares at you in shock, realizing you're the killer.

Before he can grab a subspace tripmine, you strike him, snarling as you chase him through several areas before finally dealing the killing blow, but not before taunting him.

"How weak. You're nothing without your little toys, huh?" Are the last words he hears before dying, laying in the grass with his robes soaked in blood.

But the physical pain is nothing compared to the emotional...

Your words echo in his mind as everyone respawns in the cabin, including you...who's back to looking like a survivor, confused as to why everyone seemed to be avoiding you.

But the second you look at Taph, he flinches...before running out into the woods alone. You follow him out to the pier in worry, unsure why he reacted that way.

He's sitting by the water, shoulders trembling with silent sobs, keeping a tripwire behind him.

You just step over it, and he looks at you, his whole body tensing up. You didn't have to see his expression to understand how scared and sad he was...the dark tear marks staining his cloth mask were enough.

His hand is on a subspace tripmine, ready to activate it, but luckily you convince him not to as you cautiously sit beside him, wondering what was wrong.

"Taph...did I do something to hurt you?"

"🫵🤜💥☠️" ("You killed me")

"..I...I did what?""

He's so upset that he could barely sign properly and coherently, but you eventually understand that you cruelly insulted him while killing him, and the guilt crushes you--especially as you explain that don't even remember doing any of that.

He has a hard time believing you, but the remorse on your face and the apologies spilling from your mouth seemed genuine enough.

You're only truly forgiven once you share a brownie with him (it was just a snack you had in your pocket somehow, or maybe you got it from Elliot's shop before being forsaken), and after that, he promises to remind you of what you told him should you forget again.

Even when you're the killer giving chase to somebody, Taph hesitates to throw a subspace tripmine at you despite their pleas for help....but he forces himself to anyways, especially if Builderman demands it.

You don't remember getting struck by it, although he feels the need to apologize back at the cabin.

[fanfic-ya-know]

Did You Get the Feeling?

Pairing: Bob Reynolds x Thunderbolt!Reader +platonic Thunderbolts (mostly Yelena) x Reader

Word Count: 3.6k

Warnings: reader is afab, mentions of a toxic relationship, language, alcohol consumption

AN: I have not stopped thinking about Lewis Pullman in weeks - it's becoming a problem. SO enjoy this little fic kinda based on this song I like. This is probably going to get a second part, so let me know if you guys are interested in that! And, as always, please send me your thoughts and/or requests!

It had been a few weeks since you'd decided to break up with your shitty ex-boyfriend, and the only person on the team who knew was Yelena. Honestly, it was a long time coming, but you weren't ready for all the drama that came with ending a relationship. So you took it slow. With Yelena's help, you mourned the loss of the man you had devoted the last three years of your life to. She helped you work through all the stages of grief before you even told your boyfriend. It wasn't super fair to him, but after all he had put you through, you didn't really care.

Eventually, you worked up the nerve to tell him it was over, and he reacted exactly how you thought he would. First, he was defensive, telling you how much you'd be missing out on. Then he started getting more aggressive, calling you a bitch, saying that you were probably cheating on him with one of the guys on your team. Not that you ever would, but the idea wasn't entirely out of nowhere.

The two of you had fights before about Bob, about how much time you spent with him, about how much you texted him, and how you would drop everything in a moment's notice if he needed you. You sometimes felt bad about your relationship with Bob, and, for a while, even pulled back from it, in an effort to appease your boyfriend. But when that turned into him complaining about how clingy you suddenly were, you realized nothing you could do would please him. That was the beginning of the end.

Now, here you were, listening to him ramble on about how you'd never find another guy like him and how he's actually better off without you.

"Great," you said, cutting him off. "Thanks for being so understanding." Then, you finished gathering your things from his apartment and left. You felt free. You felt like you could fly.

By the time you reached the tower, though, you felt like you needed a drink. Somewhere during the walk home, your ex's words had sunk in. Maybe you would never find someone else. Maybe he was the best you could get, and you just blew it. He put up with a lot of your shit and almost never complained about your job. And now you had just thrown three years down the drain.

When you stepped into your room, you dropped the small bag of things you'd brought back with you, which suddenly felt like it weighed a hundred pounds. It made a small noise as it hit the floor, and you simultaneously flopped face down on your bed.

You weren't sure exactly how much time had passed, likely only a few minutes, before you heard a knock on your door. All you could manage was a groan in response.

"Okaaaay, I'm coming in," Yelena announced before opening the door. You could hear her padding across the floor, and the mattress dipped beside you. Yelena started patting your head awkwardly, unsure of what to do in this situation. "Sooooo," she started, opting to retract her hand since the patting didn't seem to help. "How did it go?"

You let out a strange noise, something between a grunt and a groan that was muffled by your comforter.

"You know I am going to need more details than that."

"Fine," you sighed, rolling onto your back. You told her about how things had gone and how you were feeling. Yelena had been your go-to person for all of your relationship problems. Even though you would consider Bob your closest friend, it felt weird to talk to him about these things. You didn't think he would want to hear about it, and that he probably wouldn't know what to say. Not that Yelena was great with advice - her default being "then break up with him" for some time now. But she was good at listening, and she made you feel a little less crazy when you were upset about something.

"So let's go get a drink," she said matter-of-factly once you had finished. "I've been dying to get out of the tower, and I know Ava would want to come with."

"I don't know," you groaned again. "I don't want to make a whole thing of it."

"Then we don't tell anyone why," she offered. "We can invite everyone, because Alexi will throw a fit if we don't, and we call it team bonding or whatever."

You propped yourself up on your elbows and contemplated her suggestion. "Okay," you said finally. "But let's go somewhere chill, I don't want to feel underdressed, and I don't have it in me to try to look nice."

Yelena let out a small laugh at that. "Got it, I'll go tell the team." And with that, she left your room.

You flopped back against the mattress and pulled your phone from your back pocket, beginning the slow and painful process of deleting all of the evidence from your relationship.

A few hours later, you'd managed to drag yourself out of bed and put on a fresh set of clothes. You put on your favorite pair of jeans, a tank top, and your comfiest sweatshirt. You reapplied your mascara and ran a brush through your hair, but that was all you had the energy for.

Yelena had texted you the time to meet in the common area before heading out. By showing up on time, you had managed to beat everyone there. Everyone except Bob. He was perched in his usual chair, likely having been there for a while, just waiting for something to happen. Bob lifted his gaze from his book when he heard your footsteps approaching, his eyes lighting up slightly at the sight of you.

"H-Hey," he said, marking his place in the book and setting it to the side. "I was, uh, looking for you earlier, but Y-Yelena said you'd gone to your boyfriend's place. I didn't want to bother you, but I-" he swallowed, looking up at you and then back down at his hands sheepishly. "I, uh, I dunno, I'm glad you're back."

You got that warm feeling in your chest at his words, something that happened a lot when you were around Bob. "Yeah," your voice came out in the way that you reserved for him, soft, but not quiet, more breathy than you usually were. "I'm glad I'm back, too. I missed you."

Bob's eyes snapped to yours at the confession. He smiled at you, and the warmth you felt in your chest seemed to bloom in his as well, a soft pink blush spreading from below the collar of his sweater up his neck, reaching the apples of his cheeks and the tips of his ears. It wouldn't be that noticeable if you hadn't been staring at him so intently.

Your shared focus was broken by the sound of the rest of the team coming down the hall, chatting about the bar you were all heading to and how much you all needed this. Yelena caught your gaze and gave you a reassuring smile.

The team piled into the elevator together, Bob opting for one of the back corners, pressing his back against the wall. You followed him in, turning to face the front of the elevator as it filled up, and you ended up with your back bumping into Bob's chest. His hands instinctively grabbed your waist, steadying you as you stumbled backwards into him. "Sorry," you half-whispered over your shoulder.

The doors to the elevator closed, and you turned your face back to the front. Glancing around, you realized something. "Guys," you addressed the group. "Where's Walker?"

The whole elevator burst into laughter at your realization. "Oh, he is going to be so mad," Yelena said between laughs. Even Bob let out a good chuckle, his breath hitting the back of your neck where you had swept your hair to one side. You smiled at the feeling, both because of how good it felt to hear his laugh and because of how nice it felt to be this close to him without feeling guilty.

When John finally joined the group in the lobby of the tower, he did not look happy. "You guys suck," was all he said before the team filed through the front doors, Yelena and Ava leading the way to whatever bar they had picked.

Not much later, you found yourself dangling from a stool at a high-top table in one of the dingiest bars you'd ever been in, trying to keep your sneakers off the sticky floor as much as possible. You had all taken a round of shots upon arrival, save for Bob, who was nursing a Coke Zero with lime, and now you had a mixed drink in your hand. You had no intention of getting drunk, just wanting enough alcohol to keep the ache in your chest at bay, Bob's proximity somehow both helping and hindering your goal. The brush of his arm against yours was certainly adding to the fuzziness in your brain. You looked over at him, watching the way his throat bobbed as he sipped his drink through the tiny straw.

Bob turned to face you, slightly pulling you out of your trance. "Y-You okay?" He asked with genuine concern lining his features, a crease forming between his brows. He was so beautiful, and it took a lot of your focus not to reach out and touch him.

"Yeah," you breathed out through a smile. You shook your head slightly. "Sorry, just lost in thought. I think maybe I should slow down," you said, gesturing to the drink in front of you. You weren't sure what was in it, having trusted Yelena when she pressed it into your hand before she disappeared onto the dancefloor somewhere with Ava.

Bob nodded at your words. Then, his eyes darted to your mouth as your tongue poked out to wet your suddenly chapped lips. When his gaze returned to your eyes, a blush rose to his cheeks, realizing what he had just done and that you had seen him.

Then, as if on cue, Yelena appeared out of nowhere. "Y/N!" she shouted over the music. "Come to the bathroom with me!"

This made you realize just how close you and Bob had been, since you were able to hear each other without raising your voices. "Where's Ava?" You asked her, scanning the crowded bar for your other friend.

"She and Walker are trying to teach Barnes how to be a normal person at a bar in the 21st century," Yelena explained. "Now c'mon, I have to pee."

You turned back to Bob with an apologetic look and took Yelena's outstretched hand. She began dragging you away as you called an "I'll be right back" to Bob as you waded through the crowd.

When you reached the bathroom, Yelena pulled you into the stall with her. You stood awkwardly, not looking directly at her. "Don't hate me," Yelena said.

"Okay," you responded hesitantly.

"But I told Ava," she continued. "Because sisterhood or girl code or whatever." You sighed and looked at her expectantly as she zipped up her pants, knowing there was more. With this team, there was always more. "And she told Bucky, and I'm pretty sure Walker overheard."

"Okay," you repeated, resigned to whatever would come of them knowing all about your love life.

"Well," Yelena said, her story evidently not finished. "Bucky told Alexi, and you know he's just sitting at the bar now-"

"So now the whole place knows?" you clarified.

"Not Bob," she offered, as if it made any difference. And it kind of did. You wanted to be the one to tell him that you were newly single, to try to gauge his reaction.

You exited the stall so that Yelena could wash her hands. She looked up at you in the mirror. "I'm sorryyyyyy," she grimaced.

"It's fine," you reassured her with a chuckle and a shake of your head. You weren't surprised in the slightest.

You followed Yelena out of the bathroom, but you stopped in your tracks, surprised to find that Bob wasn't where you had left him. Confusion etched on your face, you scanned the room. Yelena turned and gave you a knowing smile. "He's probably with the others," she shouted over the music that was once again thrumming in your ears. Yelena grabbed your hand once again, carting you behind her, in search of your friends.

You finally found them near the back, gathered around a pool table. John and Bucky were in the middle of a game, and Ava was antagonizing them both, saying if they had let her play, she'd be destroying them. "Yeah," John scoffed, "that's why we didn't let you play."

Alexi had managed to find the only comfortable-looking chair in the entire bar and looked as if he was about to pass out in it. You winced at the thought of trying to get him home later.

And then there was Bob. He was standing near a high-top table, guarding your drink like his life depended on it. He had a soft smile on his lips as he watched the trio at the pool table.

"Helloooooo?" Yelena announced your entrance, and the entire team paused to turn and look at the two of you. "You guys said you were going to wait for me," she directed to the group fighting over whose turn it was.

Bob's eyes stayed on yours from across the space, and his gaze softened slightly. Shit. He knew. You were sure someone had told him while you were in the bathroom, ruining your chance to tell him yourself.

You crossed the room towards him, and when you got close, he picked up your drink and offered it to you. You took the sweaty glass from his hand without breaking eye contact, his expression soft, comforting, maybe even hopeful. You pause in front of him, a comfortable distance separating the two of you. You ached to be closer, taking a deep breath, eyes still searching his. Finally, you looked down at the drink in your hand and lifted it to your lips. Bob watched intently as you finished the drink, his own throat flinching in reaction as you set the glass back on the table. His eyes caught on the small drop of liquid left at the corner of your mouth, and they widened as you wiped away the drop with your thumb and dipped it into your mouth, sucking it clean. The sight felt vulgar. "I'm going to get another," you said, breaking his concentration. "Anyone want anything from the bar?" you asked the group, turning away from Bob. He let out the breath he didn't realize he was holding.

You listened as your teammates each gave you their orders, and then you turned to Bob, smiling sweetly. "Will you help me?" you asked. He just nodded in response, not trusting his voice.

You knew what you were doing as you led Bob through the crowd toward the bar, your hand in his larger one, fingers intertwined lightly. You'd gotten all the answers you needed from the look in his eyes earlier. And now, you were trying to give him the encouragement he needed to make the first move.

There was only enough space at the bar for you to squeeze between two of the other patrons and lean against the counter. Still, you held onto Bob, pulling him forward and placing your joined hands on the bar, forcing him to lean into you slightly and rest his chest against your back. You stood there a while, waiting for the bartender to take your order and bring you the collection of drinks. You paid and passed a couple of them back to Bob. Even with his help, it was a balancing act to carry all the drinks back to the group. By the time you returned, your sleeve was wet with John's spilled beer seeping into the soft fabric. He grumbled something about "of course mine is the one that spilled," but you weren't really listening. Instead, you tugged the sweatshirt over your head and laid it over the back of a chair, hoping it would be mostly dry by the time you guys left the bar.

You were more exposed than you typically liked to be in public, your tank top hugging your figure, and the neckline exposing the soft flesh at the top of your breasts. But the buzz from your first drink lingered, and your second held the promise of maintaining that fuzzy, slightly giddy feeling you needed. Bob’s stare, however, was affecting you far more than the alcohol. You could feel it - the way his eyes raked over your form, lingering on the swell of your breasts. When his eyes finally met yours, his blush darkened, realizing he’d been caught eye-fucking you. A flicker of gold flashed across his eyes, so quick, you almost missed it.

The rest of the night went smoothly. You and Bob maintained a safe distance for the most part, neither of you quite ready to break the barrier that was obviously crumbling between you. You laughed with your friends, almost forgetting why this outing had been planned in the first place. But as things wound down and your buzz dissipated, the ache in your chest returned.

Bob seemed to notice your mood shift as he made his way back over to you. The group murmured variations of the same sentiment: everyone was tired and wanted to go home. Bob picked up your sweatshirt from where you had left it and passed it to you wordlessly. You slipped the soft fabric back on, the sleeve now only slightly damp from the spilled beer. The moment felt tender, almost domestic.

Your group of friends trudged through the now nearly empty bar and out the door, the chill New York air hitting your face sharply. You winced at the feeling, and Bob turned at the sound. He watched as you rubbed your hands together, trying to generate warmth. He smiled softly, finding the sight adorable. He simply extended his arm toward you as you walked side by side, offering his right hand to you. Bob always ran warm, so you immediately accepted his offer, both of your hands clamping around his larger one. You intertwined the fingers of your left hand with his right and placed your right one over the back, sandwiching his hand between yours. It didn't seem to bother him at all, despite the stark difference in temperature.

You walked in near silence with your friends all the way back to the tower. Then, just like before, only now including John, you all piled into the elevator. Bob didn't move from your side, and you didn't let go of his hand. Your head lulled to the side, resting against his arm. You reached the residential floor, and everyone bid each other goodnight. It wasn't until you stood in front of your bedroom door that you finally detached from Bob.

"Thank you," you whispered, your throat feeling dry. You looked down at your hands, still tingling from the warmth of his touch. Your voice was so low that if it weren't for his enhanced hearing, Bob might not have heard you.

"F-For what?" he asked. You looked up to find his gaze already set on yours. There was a small crease between his brows as he looked at you, the question shown on his face. You wanted to reach up and smooth away the lines of confusion and worry and fear that seemed almost permanent in his expression. Instead, you twisted the ring around your thumb, a nervous tick you picked up for when you didn't know what to do with your hands.

"For walking me to my door," you shrugged like that was obviously what you meant, that you had only wanted to thank him for his chivalry, but you continued. "For tonight. For being so great."

Bob softened at your words, as he often did. "Oh." He rubbed the back of his neck and looked down at the floor. If not for the darkness, you would've seen the blush form on his skin. "Y-Yeah, no problem."

"I know someone told you," you said, finally deciding to address the topic that had hung in the air around you all night. "I wanted to tell you myself. I was going to, but I just didn't get the chance." You paused, thinking about your next words carefully. "I mean, it's no secret that things weren't going well for a while now, and I'm glad it's over. For a lot of reasons." Your words caught in your throat, suddenly feeling overcome with emotions. You searched Bob's eyes, you didn't know what you hoped to see, but what you found was quiet understanding. He was patient, letting you say what you needed to say without interruption, and you were grateful. "I guess what I'm trying to say is, thank you for being there for me." Another pause, not sure of yourself. "And I'm just going to need a little time."

Bob gave you a small nod and a smile, not the wide, open-mouthed one you'd grown to love. This smile was just a twitch, pulling up the corner of his mouth for less than a second. "That's okay," he breathed out, his eyes glassy with understanding, with what felt like love.

"Take as long as you need."

[alotofpockets]

What friends are for | Kyra Cooney-Cross x Reader

5k celebration prompt: "That's what friends are for, right?" - "Right, because you're definitely not more than friends."

Woso masterlist | Words: 1.2k

-----

When Kyra joined Arsenal, the two of you instantly became friends. While she had found comfort with her fellow Aussies, she gravitated towards you. Her second week at the club? You already labelled yourselves as best friends.

Steph and Caitlin were happy to see Kyra make a new friend. They loved her of course, but she could be a little pest, and they were grateful that her energy would be divided between more people than just the two of them.

It didn’t take long before they started questioning if the two of you weren’t more than friends though. The two of you seemed to be glued to each other’s sides. From pitch walk partners, to always linking up for drills, to being over at each other’s places all the time. Yet whenever they asked, Kyra always told them you’re just friends. 

Movie nights had become your favourite thing to do with Kyra. It had become a tradition for the two of you to have at least one movie night a week. Movie nights always included a sleepover, so today’s one did as well.

Kyra opened her door and smiled when she saw you standing on her doorstep, your kit bag slung over your shoulder. “Come on! I am so excited about this movie.” She said as she pulled you into her apartment. You put down your kit bag next to the door and kick your shoes off. “You picked without me?”

She looks at you dead serious, “Yes, you picked without me last time, so now it’s my turn.” You knew picking last time was going to come back to bite you in the ass, but it was movie night, so you’d have fun no matter what. “Alright Kyky, what movie did you pick?”

“Home Alone!” She yells from the kitchen, where the microwave had just dinged to let her know the popcorn was done. “Home Alone? It’s May, why are we watching a Christmas movie?” 

Kyra walked back into the living room, “I love Home Alone, and so do you, so no complaining.” You playfully rolled your eyes and sat down on the sofa. Kyra sat down beside you and handed you the popcorn, “See, I knew you would give in.” 

You shove her lightly, before cuddling into her side. It was by your own definition the most comfortable way to watch a movie. Together you watched, laughed, and ate your popcorn. And once the movie was over, you made your way over to Kyra’s bedroom. She had a one bedroom apartment, as did you, so you had always shared the bed.

The next morning, you woke up cuddled into Kyra's side. It wasn't unusual, this is how you woke up most sleepovers with Kyra. You got up to get a headstart on breakfast while you let Kyra sleep a little longer.

“You're too good for me.” Kyra states as she follows the smell of her favourite pre-training breakfast. You smile at her groggy morning voice, “I try.” 

Kyra drove the both of you to training. Once she parked the car you jumped out, since you had a session with the physio in five minutes that you had almost forgotten about. In your haste you quickly run past Steph, who had just gotten out of her car. She watches you with an amused smile on her face, and then turns to Kyra.

“Finally got the missus to move in, and now you’ve scared her off?” Kyra rolls her eyes. “I think she actually enjoyed herself quite well. She even made me breakfast.” Steph looked at her with eyes of disbelief, how could she not see it. “What? That’s what friends are for, right?” She asked when she noticed the look Steph gave her. “Right, because you’re definitely not more than friends.” The older Aussie told her while rolling her eyes, before walking off, leaving Kyra to trail behind her.

You had made it just in time for your physio appointment, and with some tape applied to your knee, you were free to join the rest of the girls for training. The day started with some warm-up exercises before working on the rest of the planned training session.

To finish the session off, you were playing a little 5v5. Everyone on the team always got super competitive while playing 5v5, even if it was just to be named winners of today’s session.

Apparently you and Katie got a little too competitive, because when you were jumping up to head the ball, Katie’s head collided with yours. The two of you fell to the ground, each clutching your heads. 

The medical team was quickly by your sides, but Kyra was quicker. She hadn’t even been on either of the teams, she was just sitting on the sidelines, yet she had gotten up and sprinted across the field to get to you as fast as she could. She crouched down by your side, quickly getting some of the grass off your face. “Are you okay? Are you hurt?” The medical team pushed her to the side. “Kyra, you need to give us some space.”

She stood to the side watching them do checks on you, but then to her side she saw Katie already standing up, fully cleared by the medics that were checking out, and something within her snapped.

“Look what you did!” She snapped, lunging towards Katie. Luckily Caitlin caught on to Kyra quicker than she could do anything and stepped in between her and Katie. Before either Caitlin or Katie can say something, you speak up. “Kyky, don’t.” It was all you had to say for Kyra to fully stop, making it so that Caitlin didn’t have to hold her back anymore. 

Katie chuckled at how easily you were able to stop her from her anger. “Ha, your wife said you're not allowed to hit me.” Caitlin quickly stepped forwards again and sent her girlfriend a disappointed look. Katie held up her hands in surrender. “It’s not my fault she’s whipped.” She said under her breath as she stepped back.

Kyra kept her eyes on Katie, the girl who hurt you. Her eyes were filled with anger. “She’s up.” Caitlin said to Kyra, and she quickly focussed back on you instead. “Are you alright?” You nod, “Yeah I’ll be fine. Maybe a bit of a black eye.” You could see Kyra’s eyes turn angry again, so you put your hand on her arm. “Breathe, Kyky, I’m okay. Katie did nothing wrong.”

She let her eyes focus back on you, to double check if you were really okay. Then she nodded slowly. “Can you maybe get me an icepack?” Kyra smiled, “Yes, of course. One icepack, coming right up.” She didn’t have to run, but she did.

While she is occupied doing that, you head over to Katie. “Sorry about her. Are you alright?” Katie’s smirk grows, “Even speaking for her like you’re married I see.” You roll your eyes. “Grow up.” You say jokingly. “Fine fine, I’m good. Seems like you got the worst of it, you’ll be okay?” You nod, “Yeah, I should be good. I think I’ll have myself a nurse 24/7 for a bit though.” You say as you watch Kyra sprint back with an icepack. “Lucky you.” Katie says as she pats your back as she watches your eyes shine just a little brighter as you watch Kyra nearing.

-----

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[izumiphoenix]

I apologize if this is an old post and not relevant anymore, but I happened to stumble upon it and wanted to respectfully share my opinion.

I’m approaching this purely from the game’s point of view, since, after all, that’s how Astarion’s story is told. I haven’t really seen interviews or developer commentary yet, and while I think they’re a great addition, I believe it’s also valid to form an opinion based only on what the game itself shows.

In BG3, we don’t know for certain what kind of person Astarion was before. Even he doesn’t fully remember that himself.

From what I understand, there are two main interpretations: one - that he was a corrupt magistrate who abused power and paid the price; the other one - that he was someone who genuinely cared about justice and crossed the path of a powerful figure.

Personally, I think it could be both or something in between. Astarion is one of the most complex and well-written characters I’ve seen, and trying to fit him into a black-and-white scale feels too narrow for his story.

I imagine he was young, still figuring out who he was, watching the world around him and trying to find his place. He wasn't perfect, he made mistakes. Maybe he was careless, maybe selfish at times, but I don’t think he was cruel, not intentionally. He probably didn’t consider the consequences of his choices and decisions well. And he probably believed he had a whole life ahead. Not a saint, not evil - just human.

When we meet Astarion, he has a lot of learned cruelty within him and a desperate determination to survive by any means. But he also has this softness, warmth and hope inside, too. He is intelligent, perceptive, and understanding. And he genuinely looks for connection. If Astarion chooses not to ascend, that part of him starts to really shine. And I don’t believe that came from nowhere. I believe it survived, all that time, just like him.

That’s why I don’t believe Cazador’s abuse taught Astarion morality - quite the opposite, actually. It taught him fear, cynicism, and the idea that power is all that matters. He said it himself: that he prayed to all gods he could remember, begging them to save him. And no hero ever came to his rescue. In one of the early dialogues, he plainly stated that it’s foolish to believe in good and bad - there is only what is good or bad for him. And power gives you the right to do whatever you want. This is what he was made to believe under centuries of Cazador’s “teaching”.

And the PC isn’t some moral savior either. They don’t fix him. What they offer him a safe space. A space to be seen, to breathe, to choose who he wants to be. And Astarion chooses to be better. Not for anyone else, but for himself. He chooses kindness, redemption and love over power and fear.

The idea from the follow-up post, that Tav should someday dig up old court records to confront him and “humble” him into reflection... honestly, that isn't helpful. Bringing up Astarion’s possible misdeeds - things he can't even fully remember from a life long gone - feels more like punishment, coming from a Tav who sees themselves as his moral superior. He has already been dehumanized and tortured for centuries, and after all that, he still chooses to break the cycle, to seek connection, to love and be kind. Digging up a past he can’t change, after he’s already made that choice, just sends the message that he will never be good enough. That he will always need to be “put in his place.” That’s not healing, that’s control. And I believe Astarion deserves more than that. He deserves a partner who doesn’t try to keep him on the right path, but simply walks with him. Because he isn't something broken to be fixed - he deserves respect, trust and space to continue becoming who he chooses to be, without someone constantly holding his past over his head as a reminder of who they think he really is.

To be honest, I think it's good that the creators didn't tell us in the game what kind of person Astarion was before Cazador, because his story is not about who he was, but who he wants to be. But I don't think we should dismiss him either. We may not fully know the man buried in that grave, but he is still part of who Astarion is now. Just like Ascended Astarion is still him, too - twisted, afraid, desperately clinging to control. This is painful to see, but it’s another possible path, and it deserves to be acknowledged.

Astarion is layered, messy and beautiful in his contradictions. He shines through his scars. He isn’t good or bad, he’s human. And I believe we love him because of who he is, not in spite of it.

There is a level of deep, bitterly poetic and cruel irony in Astarion's death and his eventual fate as a vampire spawn. Laughable, even. Lamentable.

Where do I even begin. I once posted here my thoughts on who Astarion was before Cazador took him; and all my thoughts were based on what we can assume to be canon from scraps on information in - game and interviews with Neil. That Astarion Ancunin who was laid into the ground at Baldur's Gate cementary was a corrupt magistrate, a shining example of power abuse, indulgence, hedony, existence in privilege without any service to the world around.

We also know for a fact that Astarion is not a good person in a moral sense. Again, Neil Newbon himself talked about it. He has capability to grow, mature, open himself up, soak in the positive influence and feel for others, but he never will be the default upstanding type. That is simply not at his core.

This is why (I am aware we're talking a fictional character, headcanon is free to all in whichever way they think it suits and pleases them) I cannot for the world believe in all the fanfiction based on the notion of the tragic, tortured soul unjustly attacked and turned into a vampire, because to me - it misses the entire depth and essence of Astarion's personality and arc. He was not a "worthy" persona before Cazador; in fact, the beating he got from the Gur was well - deserved and the near - death experience... Probably so as well. Maybe if anything, this would open his eyes and force him to reflect at least a bit on his choices in the position he was occupying. (But given that he mentions begging Cazador to turn him to be able to take revenge, I highly doubt that.) So yeah... The man got what was coming to him. He deserved it.

But what he got in the end once Cazador allowed him to drink his blood and had him in his hold? Two hundred years of misery and abuse beyond description, being completely stripped of any identity and personhood? No one deserves that. Such fate should not be thrust upon anyone. Ever.

It is the cruellest, most wicked twist of fate that it took that kind of ordeal to change a corrupt little elf's view of the world and force him to even acknowledge the existence of evil deeds and abuse of power - something I am quite sure he never gave any thought to before. It took being transformed into an utterly helpless victim to make him truly see that there is good and bad and perpetuating the bad leads to pain and misery for the innocents (and you can never be sure if not for you as well), and only then, at his most pathetic, most vulnerable, after centuries of torment, it took meeting, trusting, admiring, being grateful to, befriending / loving and being influenced by a genuinely good and kind person (probably the exact opposite of who he was before) to shake and cause some shift in his inner moral compass, or rather the way he was choosing to use it. The full circle, a poignant, unwilling journey from the one abusing power, to the enslaved puppet of someone with considerably more power abusing it in the most inhuman ways possible, and this time to his own woe, to the one person able to break the abusive cycle given the right influence.

Isn't that simply poetic in the most sickly sense? A tragicomedy, if you will.

Forget about Astarion Ancunin. The grave was good for lovemaking and sharing an important moment, but whoever was laid there was not anyone worthy of your time (just like "Ascended Astarion" )The one who stands by your side now is. Your Astarion. The new Astarion, the same "lovable rogue" with a taste for theatrics, drama, debauchery, beauty, murder mayhem and loose morality, but - a better person all the same.

[follow up post here

https://www.tumblr.com/glitteryinknotes/733162725841289216/a-little-follow-up-to-my-previous-post?source=share]

[simplylov3ly]

perhaps some lando x leclerc!reader

pairing: lando norris x leclerc!reader

summary: being charles leclerc's sister wasn't so bad, you would always get a good reward.

warnings: smut, horniness, fluff, oral sex, dirty talk, vulgar language, flirting, light kisses, french kisses, neck hickeys, cumshot, hot treat, p inside v, blowjob, consent given, spanking, cowgirl position, semi-public, tenderness, light spanking/whipping, squeezing the bottom.

words: 1.7k

author's note: i'm letting you know that english isn't my best language, but i always accept edits to help me improve. i hope you like this os/fic that an anonymous person requested. <3

It's the Monaco Grand Prix, and your brother Charles has won the first place finish, placing very well on the podium. You decided to come down from where you were so you could film your older brother's big moment.

Although you also noticed that Lando was on the podium as well, with a third position. You couldn't lie, the British McLaren driver is too hot to be true, and you knew he had a giant piece under his suit.

After congratulating Charles on his victory and being completely ignored by him, you felt someone staring at you, so you turned around and could see Lando in the distance, giving you that genuinely mischievous smile.

You decided to be discreet and went into the McLaren garage to feel someone pulling you by the arm to take you to the small room that every driver has.

The atmosphere is charged with a perverse sexual tension, A chemistry that's too intense. Excitement runs down your spine when you feel a pair of soft, tender kisses on the back of your neck.

"To think your brother ignored you..." Lando whispers, continuing the kisses. "Actually, it's not so much a shame. I have you here with me. All to myself."

"Lando..." You gasped a little from the heat on your skin, you felt your body burning with each pleasurable kiss that was placed on you.

"Yes, darling?" Lando asks quietly.

When you turn around, you can see the most beautiful green eyes mixed with blue. you've ever seen. He smiles when he notices your fascination with him.

"I missed you so much," you whispered, giving him a small kiss on the lips to feel Lando's hands, go down your sides and squeeze your hips, bringing you closer to him.

"Oh, yeah?" Lando murmured flirtatiously.

"Yeah."

"You missed me, huh? What did you miss most about me, my princess?" He asked, starting to place kisses on your collarbone, moving your hair to push it back.

You let out a sharp gasp, taking a few steps back, pressing your back against the locked door.

You feel incredibly amazed, loved, and best of all, you know he's going to give you all the affection and great sex in the world just to make it clear that he cares so much about you.

Now you feel your heart racing, feeling the adrenaline rush knowing you're in a place that's almost public yet private, but despite all that, you don't give a damn: you needed him, your favorite brit.

You placed one of your hands on the back of his head and with the other, decided to massage the bulge visible under his pilot's suit. Yes, Lando had been hard ever since he grabbed your arm to lead you to the break room, away from the gossiping eyes that were ruining your moment.

"You're a shameless, my princess," Lando whispers, placing kisses on your neck.

You moaned into the brunette's ear. Your right hand squeezed the bulge even harder, making Lando's cock stand out even more through his suit. He let out a soft grunt, filled with easy pleasure.

You never thought about this moment. You and Lando weren't a couple, but you both wanted to be, despite the reputations at stake. And that didn't matter; what mattered most to you was enjoying every moment you shared so you could remember them as the best days of your lives in the future.

"Lando... Don't stop" You gasped in search of more things and he was going to give it to you without thinking twice.

He squeezed your ass right now, giving you a few gentle spanks while you couldn't control yourself, as your moans sounded tender and you were ecstatic.

You walked beside him to push him against the black couch, opening his legs slightly and kneeling down as you slowly pulled down his pilot suit. His eyes watched your movements and he smirked, knowing that he had turned you into a girl full of mischief and pure shamelessness.

"Are you going to suck me off, princess?" Lando declared, though it sounded more like an obvious question. "Look what i've turned you into. You look like a cute little slutty princess looking for british cock."

"And you love everything i do," you said, leaving the suit at his ankles as you watched how the boxer was exploding with his cock under the fabric, suffocated and about to be released by her.

"Are you going to eat it all this time, or are you going to give up like last week?" Lando asked mockingly.

"I'll eat you whole, so you shut up already."

Lando lets out a deep moan as he feels your lips wrap around his entire cock and your tongue flicking over the tip, beginning to bob up and down your head as you enjoy sucking him off.

You roll your eyes as he grabs all your hair in a gentle tug, gently fucking your mouth a little, but at the same time, wanting you to make a few gurgles. Of course he was going to be sweet on you, but he didn't want to keep it that way for too long: Lando hoped he could make you his the way you deserve to feel a good cock in your pussy.

You felt him take the length of your mouth out and straddle you. He began to massage your ass vigorously until he saw you take off your shirt, revealing your lacy white bra. Your boobs were a gift from God in all their splendor.

"You want me to eat your breasts, huh? You really do. I can see the pleading in your eyes, princess." Lando signals with his words, placing kisses on the tops of your breasts, biting a little before starting back to his previous task: your neck.

He loved leaving hickeys on your neck knowing your older brother, Charles, would ask about it later.

In one swift motion, Norris slides your panties to one side to slide his index and middle fingers between your folds, feeling how wet and horny you are for him at this moment.

"Look how wet you are for me..." Lando whispers. "You can't wait for me to fuck you, can you?"

"You're a bastard... Don't torture me like that..." You mumbled breathily, letting out several high and low moans so that no one could hear that the two of you were practicing... Certain sexual activities in the room.

"I'm not going to torture you," he says, moving away from your neck to look at you with a burning hunger. "You know i'd give it to you without a second thought, princess."

"Put your cock in me. Now." You ordered, panting.

"How do i ask? Be polite to your boyfriend." Lando says, smiling when he saw the sparkle in your eyes, knowing you'd heard the word 'boyfriend'. You both knew you weren't anything, but he gave you hope. "Say 'please' and i'll let you ride me however you want."

Your pussy was dripping in a way you couldn't believe because the small vaginal fluid stained the skin of Lando's cock a little, making your folds slide a little over the length.

You watch as the british man pulls two fingers out of your core and brings them to his mouth to taste some of your fluids, and he smiles when he tastes the liquid.

"Please... Let me ride you," you begged, watching as he positioned his cock at your pussy hole and slowly lowered your hips.

You moaned as you felt your walls tighten while Lando let out a deep growl, visualizing the expression on his future girlfriend's face, her eyes rolling in pleasure, her mouth open and her head thrown back... It was all pure perfection.

Sometimes, being Charles's sister was almost too much of a blessing, because you had prizes where you enjoyed a ton of situations like these. No matter where you were, you let yourself be carried away by Lando and his perverse, cheeky british thoughts.

Riding the love of your life is one of the best things in life. You could hear the slapping of skin, your pussy sliding more smoothly with his cock inside you, thrusting in and out smoothly, quickly, captivating you, making you feel an unforgettable experience.

Lando puts his hands behind his head, watching you ride him, how your breasts bounce in your bra and how your moans are high-pitched, full of strong pleasures. The McLaren driver doesn't hesitate to lower one of his hands to make you lower the straps of your bra, visualizing how your nipples are hard, how the fat of your tits are seen before him.

You kissed him with pleasure, resting your breasts on his chest while you jumped wanting to make him feel in fucking paradise and you knew that he loved it, that he loved this position because right now, he was gently strangling your neck, not wanting you to separate from the rough kiss.

"You're mine, princess," Lando murmurs between kisses.

"All yours, Lan..." You said between moans and hot kisses.

And so the two continued enjoying the ride, until they learned that hours later, Charles would find out that a formula one driver had been fucking his little sister for months.

[webslingingslasher]

J! I just got a Spidey plush!! And he’s adorable and so cuddly. I love him.

Idk if you’re taking requests (if not, please disregard lol), but a drabble/blurb (idk the difference) about Trouble w/ a Spidey plush. And Peter getting jealous bc she’s choosing to cuddle with it instead of him

'i found spider-man today.'

peter wasn't out in the suit today so he's not sure what you mean. 'you did?'

'mhm, i took him home with me.'

now peter's imagining a copy-cat walking around in some halloween costume, pretending to be a hero, and allowing girls to take him home. when peter said spider-man could be your hall pass, he didn't expect you to actually find him.

'what?'

'what, what?'

'what do you mean you took him home?'

you smile, 'oh. yes, i took him home. i almost didn't but he was so cute i couldn't say no.'

a fake spider-man is running around and flashing his face. 'you saw his face?' you shake your head, peter thinks that might be worse. 'no, but i know he's cute. wanna see him?' you start digging through your bag before he can say anything, if you show him a picture of someone touching you, he'll scream.

but it's no real threat. it's a miniature, stuffed him.

'aw.'

'i know, right? he's perfect cuddle size too.'

peter waves you off. 'nah, i'm perfect cuddle size. he's too small.'

you hug spider-man to your chest and squeeze tight. 'he fits right between my arms. i can't wait to hug him all night.' peter's eyebrows slightly furrow, 'i thought you were spending the night?'

you nod. 'i am.'

'then how are you going to hug him?'

you sway back and forth, hugging spider-man a little tighter. 'like this.' peter looks at you, looks at his bed, looks at spider-man, then back to you. 'but that's where i sleep.'

'nuh uh. it's more like me laying on you and you trying to escape me the whole night.'

'you make me hot!'

you shoot a wink his way, 'right back atchya, baby.' you trace the black lines of the plush mask spider-man is wearing. 'it's a win for you, petey. you won't get all sweaty tonight.'

peter wears a frown and crosses his arms over his chest. 'what's the point of spending the night if you're not going to cuddle me?' your mouth drops, 'okay, mr. sassy.'

'well, i just don't get why you'd want to sleep here if you don't want me.'

'i do want you! i'm sharing a bed with you, duh.'

'while cuddling...' peter's eyes narrow on his new enemy, 'him.' you try to hold a straight face but you're unable to swallow your laugh. 'there's no way you're jealous of a stuffed spider-man right now.'

peter exaggerates a head nod. he's jealous and he doesn't care if you know. 'i only get trouble cuddles two nights a week, three if i'm lucky. and you want me to give up a whole night for that thing? no way. not happening. i'll allow it in the bed but cuddles? no, that's me and me only.'

you hold spider-man closer to your chest. if he had ears, you'd cover them. 'we went from him to it real fast, parker.' peter gives spider-man a death glare. 'it's taking you from me. i don't like it.'

'well, maybe if you didn't complain everytime i try to cuddle you i wouldn't have to find someone to take your spot.'

'someone? someone? that is not someone, i'm someone!'

you give spider-man another squeeze. 'fine. but he's sleeping next to me and if you give me any lip about getting off you, i'm turning my back and won't turn back around until morning.'

peter smiles wide. 'deal.' 

[ikiracake]

so uuuuuuuuh I had only seen the first image when I started writing fic for it but you know what it still works

woe fic be upon ye

(Also posted on AO3 HERE)

This was definitely not how Dash expected his day to be going.

It had started off normal enough. School, football practice, hanging out with the team afterward at the nearby arcade. But on the walk back home after he'd finished up with his friends, things had taken a turn for the weird.

He was about halfway home, walking down the sidewalk with his hands tucked into the pockets of his letterman. It was late, the streetlights overhead lighting his steps and casting a long shadow behind him as he passed, and he'd already been anticipating the chewing out he'd get from his mom for staying out so late and missing dinner again. He'd been trying to come up with some sort of excuse that might satisfy her, when a bright flash of light suddenly illuminated the night.

Dash stumbled to a halt, eyes going wide with alarm as what looked like a tiny bolt of lightning suddenly materialized in the air straight ahead of him, less than a few feet away. He took a step back, expecting to feel a wave of heat rush over him from standing so close to a lightning strike, but when the blast of air hit him, it was chillingly cold. A second later, the lightning bolt suddenly started to stretch and spread through the air, until a flat disc of pale green light so bright it was nearly blinding was hanging in the air in front of Dash, the bottom nearly brushing the sidewalk and the top at least a foot over Dash’s head.

Dash stared at the disk in stunned silence. What the hell was this thing? Was it actually lightning? He was pretty sure he'd heard of something called ball lightning before. Was that what this was? If so, he should probably be running away in the opposite direction, right?

Probably, but for some reason he couldn't bring himself to move. A combination of curiosity and the disk's glow had transfixed him, pinning him in place before the disk's flickering light.

He ended up standing there for a while, waiting for it to do something else, but to his growing disappointment, it seemed to be done with its shape-changing show. Instead it just hung there, floating silently above the ground. When nothing happened after a full minute, Dash took a hesitant step forward, staring into the light with his brow furrowed. 

He'd assumed it was ball lightning before, but if it was ball lightning, it should have moved or flickered or something by now, shouldn't it? And besides, lightning was supposed to be really hot, but the air around it seemed icy cold. Maybe it wasn't ball lightning after all. But if it wasn't lightning, then what was it?

One of his hands absently started to rise, his hand reaching out to try to touch the surface of the disk, despite the cold chill radiating off of it. A voice at the back of his head that sounded a lot like his mom was trying to warn him that this was a really bad idea, but he couldn't bring himself to stop.

His fingertips were inches from the disk when he suddenly heard what sounded like voices coming from the disk.

“Wait! Your majesty!”

“Stop! Stop, sire!”

There was also what sounded like laughter ringing above the other voices, which seemed to be growing louder; it was almost like someone was approaching. Dash’s hand withdrew, and he shrunk back from the disk, suddenly feeling nervous as his curiosity was overcome by apprehension. There had been no one else around before the lightning bolt had appeared, and although he couldn’t see anything past the disk, he doubted anyone else was out on this random suburban street so late in the evening. But then where were the voices coming from? It couldn’t be from the disk…could it?

Dash got his answer a second later. His only warning was a shadow appearing in the middle of the glowing disk’s light, and then a second later something crashed against him, knocking him down to the ground with a yelp of surprise. Dash’s back hit the sidewalk hard, his shoulder blades and elbow immediately shrieking in pain from the rough treatment, but thankfully he managed to avoid hitting his head and his letterman took the brunt of the damage. Still, he was left lying there for a moment, feeling a little bit dazed from his sudden tumble.

He didn’t know how long he was sprawled there on the sidewalk, but he became abruptly aware that there was someone lying on top of him when the person let out a soft groan and started to move. As they sat back, Dash pushed himself up to his elbows so that he could see just who had collided with him.

As soon as he caught sight of the other person, he felt his mouth drop open.

Glowing green eyes were the first thing he saw, the colour more vibrant than anything Dash had ever encountered in his life. Pale green skin dotted with glowing freckles caught his eyes next, the face framed by soft, spiky hair that was so white it looked like snow. The person was wearing a black and white bodysuit covered in exquisite embroidery and elaborate patterns that was mostly hidden by a heavy black cloak trimmed in a thick layer of fur and lined with what looked like the night sky itself. The person’s long, pointed ears twitched as they looked down at Dash with a curious expression, their head tilting slightly to the side as they studied him right back. And then they smiled so wide that their nose wrinkled, flashing their shiny fangs, and Dash felt his breath leave him in a whoosh.

They were the most beautiful person Dash had ever seen in his life.

“Hi there!” the person chirped, still sitting practically in Dash’s lap. “I’m Danny, it’s nice to meet you! Are you a human, by any chance?”

Dash’s mouth flapped uselessly for a moment as he struggled to remember how to speak. “U-uh, I, um. Yes?”

The person, Danny apparently, brightened impossibly more, almost literally. He threw both hands up into the air and let out a triumphant cackle. “Yes! Yes, it worked!”

Just then, there was a shout from behind them. Danny twisted around to look over his shoulder, and Dash leaned slightly to the side to see past him. The disk was still floating in the middle of the air, shining like a tiny supernova, but a few shadows had appeared on its surface that were slowly growing larger.

Danny said something in a language that Dash didn’t recognize, but suspected was some sort of curse word. Danny threw out a hand towards the disk, his fingers splayed, and a light that mimicked the shine of the disk appeared against his palm. He then made a quick twisting gesture with his hand, and a moment later the disk suddenly shriveled up and winked out of existence as if it had never been there.

“There,” Danny said with a satisfied nod. “That’ll keep them off my back for a bit.”

He then turned back around to look down at Dash, the grin from before returning. He leaned in, so close that his nose was practically brushing against Dash’s, and then gleefully asked, “So, where were we?”

“Uh…”

“Right! I was just introducing myself!” Danny declared, smacking his forehead. He shook his head, his grin becoming slightly softer. “As I was saying, my name is Danny, and I've never met a human before! It's a pleasure to meet you!”

“L-likewise?” Dash stuttered out. Then, before he could stop himself, he added, “Are you, like, some kind of alien?”

“What? No!” Danny laughed, like that was the silliest thing he'd ever heard. “No, obviously I'm a ghost.”

Dash glanced over Danny's sparkling, celestial cloak and glittering otherworldly outfit that wouldn't have looked out of place in a space opera movie, and felt his eyebrow start to rise. “Right. A ghost. Of course.”

“Yup!” Danny agreed cheerfully,  completely missing Dash's sarcasm. “And this is my first time in the living realm!”

But then his excitement seemed to dim a little. “This is the living realm, right?”

Dash had no idea where the hell the living realm was supposed to be. “Uh. This is Amity Park?”

“Amity Park,” Danny echoed, almost in awe. He started glancing around, taking in the stretch of suburban neighborhood that surrounded them like they were sitting in the middle of some sort of grand palace rather than at the end of someone’s driveway, his eyes wide with wonder.

As he turned his head, Dash couldn’t help but notice the black spiky crown that was floating above Danny’s head almost like a halo. It matched Danny’s elaborate outfit perfectly, making Dash think of fairy tale princes and the fancy portraits that he’d seen in his old history textbooks. It occurred to him that he’d also heard the voices in the disk using the phrases ‘your majesty’ and ‘sire’ right before Danny had appeared. His mouth suddenly went dry, and he nervously licked his lips.

“Say, uh. Mr. Danny ghost sir,” Dash said slowly, hoping he was showing proper respect or whatever to what he was starting to suspect was some sort of fairy prince. Danny turned away from studying the nearby hedges to glance down at Dash, who flushed a little when he found himself under the focus of those beautiful green eyes once more. “I, uh. Was wondering. Um. Your highness?”

Danny’s expression soured at the term of address, his nose wrinkling. “Ugh. Please don’t call me that. I deliberately came here to get away from all that crap. Please, just call me Danny.”

“But aren’t you a…a prince or something?” Dash squeaked, gesturing helplessly to the crown floating over Danny’s head.

“Huh?” Danny glanced upward, following Dash’s gesture, but of course the crown moved with his head and he couldn’t actually see it. Still, he seemed to realize what Dash was talking about, because he rolled his eyes and let out a huff. “Ugh, I thought I left that behind. Whatever, just pretend you don’t see it.”

“Uh. Okay.”

“And call me Danny!” Danny insisted.

“Okay, Danny then,” Dash agreed shakily, his stomach fluttering at the chance to address such an ethereal person so casually. “So, Danny.”

“Yes?”

“Can you, uh. Get off of me, please?”

“Huh? Oh!” Danny seemed to finally notice that he’d been sitting on top of Dash this whole time. “Whoops, sorry about that!”

He abruptly levitated up into the air, until he came to a stop hovering a few feet above Dash with his cloak drifting around him like he was floating in water. His eyes stayed fixed on Dash as Dash scrambled back up to his feet, watching him with open curiosity. He even drifted a little bit closer once Dash found his footing again.

Now that he was free and standing, Dash hastily brushed off his jeans, wincing a little when the motion strained what were definitely becoming bruises on his back and elbow. All the while he kept a wary eye on Danny, who seemed content to just observe Dash as he straightened out his clothes and shook out his numb legs. The ghost…prince(?) continued to smile warmly at him, patiently waiting for Dash to finish.

The moment Dash seemed settled, however, Danny darted forward until his face was once again only inches away from Dash’s own. Dash startled backward, but Danny just followed, his smile growing into an excited grin.

“So! Human!” he announced. “What’s your name?”

“It’s, uh. It’s Dash,” Dash introduced himself, feeling his face heat and his heart rate pick up from how close Danny was to him. Now that he was hovering in the air, he looked even more breathtakingly gorgeous, his hair drifting about his head and brushing against his cheeks. Danny's easygoing attitude did little to distract Dash from his beauty, and Dash was left feeling completely tongue tied as he stood in Danny's glow.

“Dash! Great to meet you!” Danny said, grabbing Dash’s hand between his own and giving it a hearty shake. “You seem like a neat guy! You look like you know stuff about humans! It’s my first time in the living realm, think you could show me around a bit?”

“Y-you want a tour?” Dash stuttered, before glancing around at the bland front lawns and driveways that surrounded them. “Of this?”

“Absolutely!” Danny replied, his head whipping around to take in their surroundings. “I mean, look at this place! The ground is actually all one piece! And none of the plants are floating!”

Dash glanced over at said plants in bewilderment. To him they just looked like a typical overgrown garden and a lawn that the neighbor really needed to cut already, but Danny just seemed so enthusiastic about it that Dash didn’t really want to burst his bubble. So instead he let out a weak chuckle. “Yeah, I suppose that’s…cool?”

“It is,” Danny agreed solemnly, looking deep into Dash’s eyes to convey exactly how serious he was. “It really is.”

“I mean…if you really want me to show you around…” Dash cast his mind to the surrounding area, trying to think of what was nearby that was more exciting than a couple of street lamps and some parked cars in driveways. There was a strip mall a few blocks away, but at this time of night all of the stores would be closed and it was already kind of sketchy in the full light of day. No, that wouldn't be a good place to take someone as special as Danny.

“Uh, there’s a park just down the street?” he eventually offered, hoping that might be enough to satisfy Danny's interest. “They’ve got, like, some swings and stuff. We could head over there, if you want?”

To his relief, Danny practically glowed with excitement. “You’re going to take me to a park?! A real, human, park?!”

“Um. Yes?”

“That would be so cool! Thank you, Dash!” Danny cried, before suddenly flinging himself forward to wrap his arms around Dash’s neck.

Dash let out a soft grunt of surprise and his arms automatically came up to rest on Danny’s hips as he suddenly found himself with an armful of ghost boy. Once again he found himself frozen in place as Danny stared into his eyes, Danny's energy momentarily dimming, his expression growing softer.

“Thank you, Dash,” he said quietly, his voice hushed. “I’m really grateful that you’re here to show me around. I could explore on my own, but I was hoping to spend time with a human while I was here as well, and you seem like a really nice one.”

Dash’s mouth had gone so dry that it was almost impossible for him to speak. Danny was there, right there, pressed up against him. This close, Dash could finally see that the glowing freckles on Danny’s skin were shaped like little stars, dusted across his cheeks like the Milky Way Galaxy in the night sky. His eyes had grown hooded as he looked up at Dash with that pleased little smile, the arms wrapped so casually around Dash’s shoulders like he’d done it a thousand times. The casual intimacy left Dash at a complete loss for words.

Eventually, however, he decided that the silence had stretched on for too long, and he needed to say something in reply to Danny, or Danny might start thinking he was crazy and go fly off to go find some other human to hang out with. So with a shaky grin of his own, he cleared his throat and forced himself to speak. “H-hey, you know. Just, uh. Happy to help!”

“Great!” Danny beamed, and then he abruptly pulled away from Dash to float in the air again. Before Dash could get too disappointed with the new distance between them, however, he reached down and grasped Dash’s hand in his own, linking their fingers together. “Alright, now take me to the park! I really want to see the swings!”

“F-for sure!” Dash choked out. He could feel how hard he was blushing, completely flustered by Danny’s innocent gesture, but he cleared his throat again and tried to move past his jitters. “L-let’s head there now!”

Danny let out a little cheer, and started tugging on Dash’s hand to get him moving. Dash stumbled for a step or two, but then he caught his footing, and began trailing after Danny. 

“Shouldn’t I be leading?” he pointed out as they headed down the street in the completely wrong direction.

“Oh. Yeah, whoops,” Danny agreed with a giggle that almost sounded nervous. He dropped down to the ground so that he was standing next to Dash on the sidewalk, but he didn’t let go of Dash’s hand. “Lead on, then, Dash!”

Shaking his head in amusement, Dash started walking again, leading Danny in the correct direction this time and pulling him along by their joined hands. He gave Danny's fingers a little squeeze, which Danny returned shyly.

“Come on. I’ll even give you a push on the swing, if you’d like,” Dash told him with a little smirk, some of his regular confidence returning now that he was the one guiding the way.

“Yes please!” Danny agreed.

As they headed to the park, Dash absently thought of how much trouble he was going to be in when he finally managed to get back home. His mom was absolutely going to kill him. But when they arrived at their destination and he saw the adorable way Danny’s face lit up in pure delight, Dash found that he couldn’t bring himself to care all that much.

Maybe if he told his mom that he’d been abducted by an alien, she might believe him. It wasn’t that far off from the truth, after all.

Uh Oh! You got a lap full of Ghost Prince! Time for you to become humanity’s worst possible ambassador

[that-smallinjured-bowylamb]

MY NAME IS. BRUTUS.

Damn fourth fic of the day, yeah? Why am I listening to these music while writing? Idk. But let me do my thing ‼️‼️ P.S. All this while it was 5pm in the evening too🙏

Gender Neutral reader

Genre: as you can tell with many others in the singer!reader au posts, Romantic.

Involvement: Main cast

Warnings?: cussy [yk what time it is ‼️‼️], comedy cus I can't live without it, if you see mistakes I'm probably half brain-dead for not noticing it, OOC[just in case], and uhmmm other things idk help me I'm multi-tasking through apps [texting my friends in whatsapp, TikTok, going back to Tumblr, and random ass research that has nothing to do with any of my works 🙏‼️], idk what else to add.

Ayeee shoutout to @sparklybasementcherryblossom

Thank you for reminding me I had this in my playlist!!!

So you see, you've been getting popular recently... but who cares? You're actually getting paid for it so, Letts cook up another one ‼️‼️‼️

And you thought of one thing.

Brutus...

Oh, that name. With so much envy driven into madness. Yes. That one.

You are going to have so much fun with this.

For the next performance.

They have no idea what's coming for them.

You've already set up the stage, and set in the camera for streaming. You've already had a few people in your otherworldly band, so you were happy to do more.

☆~~———~~☆

You've set up the play, it was like everything before, everyone had sat down to see the play, you had new additions for this music, though.

Because it's gonna get loud.

Riddle, Ace, Deuce, and Trey all sat in front since yk, they're your first friends in a dorm?? And so on with Leona, Ruggie, Jack, Azul, Jade, Floyd, Jamil, Vil, Rook, Epel, Idia[tablet], Ortho, Malleus, Silver, Sebek, and who else could be companions of yours.

You've started it.

Now they'll hear it.

The music begins...

It went silent before it got louder and louder.

You hear the chorus of women, humming, singing random incoherent words.

And no one fucking understands.

The beats sounds heavy, like any other songs you've recently played, but this one has something, unspoken, heavy, feeling.

I've been watching him for my entire life,

I hate the air he breathes,

his foolish decrees,

His words so contrived

And I hate the way the townspeople gather outside,

They hang on every breath,

Cling to his chest,

Home to his heart full of pride.

Whoa, now that was a surprising start, your voice seemed exhausted, angry in a way. It's like speaking through your teeth with unbridled rage.

The oracle told him to beware of the Ides,

And I'd be lying if I said I wasn't wishing,

For an untimely death or demise.

You've spat out those words like venom.

DAMN. Right off the bat?? Chill [Name]! Ruggie would've been scared if it weren't it being a music play.

Or am I just wishing just wishing I could be like you?

That the people would see me too as a poet,

And not just the muse.

The envy in your voice pours out for everyone to see.

Rook was wondering if it was pointing to him...

Vil felt a strange feeling of Deja vú.

Oh, it's not true,

I don't wish harm upon you,

You reassured in a mocking way.

Riddle was thinking on what the implications might be... Trey was attentively listening, could you be envious as well? Cater stresmed again, in a more hushed tone.

From birth,

We've been like brothers of different mothers,

within the spirit of the same womb,

May the Gods strike me down if I forsake you,

You sounded desperate, in what way, though?

Frater Meus, you're beautifully made,

And to you,

I'm forever grateful.

I'll never forget that you showed me to make art,

And I know the love you showed me came,

From a pure and noble heart.

Okay... weird thing to say when you literally wished for someone's death...

Idia seemed interested, Ortho likes the emotions put into this, Malleus is wondering why your singing all the time, Vil explained its a form of expression.

I love you,

And if you want, I'll call you king.

You said in a hushed tone.

All are listening closely like a secret being told

But why do I lie awake each night thinking,

"Instead of you, it should be me"?

Jamil looks at you like you've hit amnesia, no shit???

Something wicked this way comes,

And as I set to face it,

I'm unsure.

Should I embrace it, should I run?

The words weigh heavy, lingering in the air, crashing down in suffocation.

What motivates me?

Hatred? Is it love?

What's more wrong:

That I too wish to be great

Or,

My mother wished she'd had a son?

Your voice grows frantic, in a desperate dance.

Everyone is worried on the implications of what it could've meant, jealousy.

You gasp.

And even if I can't be the one,

Maybe I could at least help

Make way for him,

Until the day that he comes?

In a crazed manner, your expression was manic.

Maybe my name could also be known,

That I helped return good to the people,

And restored greatness to Rome?!

You raised your voice slightly.

Making some flinch in surprise.

A chant of 'Brutus' in the background.

A scene of Brutus killing the man she envied.

MY NAME IS BRUTUS,

AND MY NAME MEANS HEAVY,

SO WITH A HEAVY HEART,

I'LL GUIDE THIS DAGGER INTO THE HEART OF MY ENEMY.

Oh! Uhm...

MY WHOLE LIFE,

YOU WERE A TEACHER AND A FRIEND TO ME,

PLEASE KNOW THAT MY ACTIONS ARE NOT ONLY MOTIVATED ONLY BY,

ENVY.

I, TOO, HAVE A DESTINY, THIS DEATH WILL BE ART!

Your voice grew louder and louder, enough to awake the sleeping students.

THE PEOPLE WILL SPEAK OF THIS DAY,

FROM NEAR TO AFAR!

THIS EVENT WILL BE HISTORY,

AND I'LL BE GREAT TOO,

I DON'T WANT WHAT YOU HAVE,

I WANT TO BE YOU...!

The intensity of your voice increases, never ceases. The envy boiling in your tone like a forbidden spell not to be chanted.

The audience is left hypnotized with its intense tones and harsh words, it's like sharpening knives grazed on their ears.

I always knew I could be the one,

Though, I feel the endless pain of being,

And I am scorched by the sun.

What.

-Malleus, probably.

Of humble origins,

And born of the cursed sex,

My name is Brutus,

But the people will call me Rex.

Hushed out a voice from the last verse, a rasp sound in the throat.

The women hum and chant in incoherent voices.

The music ends.

Well done.

The audience was quiet, then finally.

"Wooo! That was amazing!!" Epel yelled.

Everyone erupted into an applause.

You're talented, [Name]. No matter what it is your good at, whether your confident or not.

You'll be recognized by the others.

The End.

OOUUFF DONEEE!!!

Enjoy !!! :>

[pleasantlycrazyworld]

A/N:This was requested but I cannot find it anywhere!!! I'm sorry I couldn't tag you :( The request was for a mute reader who wasn't a hero working at the tower. Bob becomes a translator for them!

I do have a few follow-up ideas for this let me know if you're interested in one or both! 1. Bob gets jealous of someone at the tower bc they learned ASL and are taking up more of your time. 2. Soft mutual pining with no jealousy (obviously both could be combined lol)

Summary: Working with the Thunderbolts* is a challenge, especially when you don't speak. Thankfully Bob is there to communicate for you.

°•○°•○°•○°•○°•○°•○°•○°•○°•○°•○°•○°•○°•○°•○°•○

Most of the team barely noticed you when you started at the Tower. You weren’t flashy — no special powers or combat gear. You worked in communications, more in the ground support area of things. It was quiet and precise, the kind of work that kept the mission flowing much smoother.

The only thing that would be labeled as special for you was that you didn't speak.

Which meant in a room full of people who were always busy solving problems you were often overlooked… except by Bob.

Bob usually blended into the background himself. He had a talent for disappearing into a room full of larger personalities. It was Bob who smiled the first time you signed “Nice to meet you.” You didn’t expect him to answer, most people just blinked at you awkwardly and waited for you to get your phone out. But Bob, he softly smiled back, and signed, slowly, clumsy but clearly: “Nice to meet you too.”

You stared back at him in disbelief.

He scratched the back of his neck, looking a little sheepish.

“I uh… picked up ASL a while ago. Long story. You’re the first one here who I can use it with.”

From that day on, everything changed.

You didn’t need to rely on text or nods. You could talk-- actually talk and be understood while Bob happily listened. He was patient and kind. He never made you feel like you were less than or an inconvenience. Whenever meetings got chaotic or everyone at the debriefs skipped you over, Bob would awkwardly clear his throat and voice your thoughts aloud. “She says we need to reroute the signal. It’s already compromised.”

No one else understood what you were telling them, but they started paying attention when Bob spoke. And that made him…proud? It gave him something nothing else did, it gave purpose to his life. He wasn’t just in the background anymore. He was your connection to the team. Your translator. Your voice. He was needed. He was important, he was…valued. He never knew that he was missing out on this feeling but he knew he never wanted to miss it again.

He’d walk into the control room just to see if you needed help. He started to pause during drills to check if you were okay. And you started saving little notes for him on post-its. Inside jokes and little drawings. Doodles of him and a speech bubble: “Best Translator Ever.”

He kept that one on his mirror.

One night, after a long hectic day, you both lingered by the Tower windows, watching the rain streak down the glass. The others had cleared out long ago but the two of you stayed in the peace that always seemed to find you when the two of you were together.

You signed slowly: “Thank you for seeing me.” Bob looked at you, and stayed quiet for a long moment. Then he smiled, it was a soft smile, a little sad, but very warm. “You’re the only one who’s ever made me feel like I wasn’t invisible.”

You reached out and brushed your fingers against his arm, a small gesture that made him suck in a breath, a gesture that said: Me too. And in that silence between signs, Bob realized something: You didn’t need words to say everything that mattered.

○•°○•°○•°○•°○•°○•°○•°○•°○•°○•°○•°○•°○•°○•°○•°

If you like my work please let me know! Reblogging, commenting and liking are huge and easy ways to let me know you're enjoying my work and it keeps me motivated to post way more!!! Request are open <3

I have started a taglist for Bob lmk if you'd like to be added <3

@itsjustisa

[cyanide-siren]

wake up, baby

Dean Winchester x Reader

Summary: You get severely injured and end up in a coma. Dean visits you every day and realizes how he took you for granted and regrets not doing certain things when he still could.

Warnings: Angst with happy ending.

☆☆

One day after the hunt

When Dean first arrived to the hospital and saw you lying on the hospital bed, attached to a heart monitor, his heart sank and he couldn't breathe for a moment. The sight in front of him what he had been feared from the day he had started to care for you. No, ever since he had met you. Deep down, he knew this was going to happen at some point, but he still hadn't prepared himself for this.

While you were in the surgery, Dean had been sure that you were going to die. Your injuries were too severe to survive from them, the blood loss was way too big. The hit on your head would surely leave a permanent brain damage. Dean wasn't a doctor and hadn't participated in the surgery, of course not, so he hadn't diagnosed the actual damages your body took – but he saw the entire thing right in front of him.

Dean had carried you in his arms to the hospital, his shirt stained by your blood. He hadn't cleaned it, only threw it straight into a trash can when he had been able to change a new shirt.

But now here you were, heart beating and state currently stable. Although, you were in a coma and there was a little chance that you'd ever wake up. According to the doctor, extremely little.

But there was still a chance. Dean had to hold on to that short piece of strand of the chance to keep himself from losing his mind.

If Castiel was here, he could cure and heal you in a heartbeat – surely he could, right? But Cas was nowhere to be found, no matter how much Dean tried to pray for him to come.

☆☆

Three days after the hunt

Dean hadn't slept properly since the day you ended up in the hospital. He couldn't. Every time he closed his eyes, he couldn't get the picture of you out of his mind. You dying and not being there for him ever again.

Your state hadn't progressed to neither better or worse.

Dean had kept praying for Castiel to come and heal you countless of times. For his surprise, Castiel did arrive to him one time. However, he was unable to heal you, having his powers temporarily cut off. What a great timing. Dean's only hope was gone. Of course the doctors did the best they could in this difficult and hopeless situation but it wasn't enough.

Dean's mind wandered to every option possible how to save you, including the worst ones. Making a deal with the Devil. But he had promised you, Sammy and Bobby that he'd never do it again, and he couldn't take it a second time, being tortured and forced to torture other souls in Hell.

If you found out about him selling his soul for you, you'd kill him before the hellhounds would be able to reach him. You would never forgive him, and he wouldn't blame you for that. He had to find another way, but what was it?

Dean wanted to cry, scream and go for a demon killing spree to pour out his anger in a reasonable way but all he managed to do was sit still and stare at you.

☆☆

Four days after the hunt

"Dean, you gotta sleep and eat something," Sam insisted, growing more and more worried about his brother.

"I'm not hungry, i'm fine," Dean mumbled.

"No, you're not. You're –"

"Sam, i told you i'm fine," Dean shouted, feeling this anger and fire raise inside him, and if Sam said another word, the anger would be too much to handle and he'd explode.

Sam was about to say something but decided otherwise not to make Dean flip out completely, already squeezing the wheel with his knuckles white.

Sam missed you too, a lot. You were the closest friend he had who he wasn't related to by blood. You weren't dead yet, but the chance of waking up was becoming less likely as the days passed.

Dean knew it wasn't Sam's fault, and he had no right to get angry at him, to pour his anger at his brother. No, it was his own fault, Dean could blame only himself.

"It wasn't your fault, Dean," Sam had insisted, sensing that Dean's mind was revolving around just him fucking shit up. Dean didn't say anything back, just tried to concentrate on the road ahead of him and not drive into the ditch.

Sam didn't know what to say to him, so he said nothing, letting an uncomfortable silence linger inside the car.

When they had arrived to the motel and Dean had locked himself in a bathroom and was now taking a shower, Sam went outside to make a phone call, far enough that Dean didn't hear him.

"I don't know what to do with him, Bobby," Sam said, feeling desperate. "He's not eating or sleeping, he's a total wreck. I've never seen him like this."

Sam wanted to help his brother and make him feel better but there was no other way to cheer him up than have you wake up.

☆☆

Six days after the hunt

Dean had been visiting you every day, except yesterday, which made him feel so guilty. It wasn't his job to keep you alive there, he trusted the doctors and was sure that they did a wonderful job – but still. He didn't want you to feel like he abandoned you, if you were in any way aware that he was there.

Were you? Could you hear him talking to you? Feel him holding your hand? No, of course not. It was just one day of not visiting you because of another case, but he wanted to sit by your side every second until you'd wake up, so his face would be the first thing you saw.

You would wake up, right? You had to. You had to wake up and come back to him. You couldn't leave him, not since he hadn't even told you that you were the best thing that had ever happened to him. His best friend.

The woman he had fallen in love with. Why did he have to realize all the important things too late? The things that mattered to him the most?

"Sorry that i didn't come to see you yesterday," Dean said quietly. "We were taking down a few vampires and everything didn't exactly go as planned at first. We're alright though, got it handled. Like always."

No, not always. You were an example that thing's didn't go as planned every time. It was just more comforting to say that everything was fine. Everything was going to be fine.

Everything was going to be fine.

Everything was going to be fine.

Everything was going to be –

Who was he kidding.

☆☆

One week and 2 days after the hunt

Dean was sitting by your bed, looking at you lying there. You looked like you were simply asleep but he knew he couldn't wake you up no matter how much he'd try to shake you awake.

"Come on, Y/N," Dean whispered, grabbing your hand in his. "Wake up. Please. I'm losing my mind over here."

No reaction. Of course not. Maybe he should just accept that you're gone. That you left him before he managed to do everything he wanted with you. God, there were so many things he wanted to do with you.

He wanted to tell you how beautiful you were.

How funny and capable of making him laugh you always were.

How much he loved you.

How he wanted to take you on a date. Buy you flowers and chocolate.

How he wanted to sleep with you next to him, cuddled up in his arms to be protected by him.

How he would make you breakfast. Whatever you craved for. Anything from cereals to toasts to pancakes. If he didn't know how to make something, he'd search for the recipe.

How, some day, he wanted to marry you. To build a family with you.

And how fucking much he loved you.

He wanted to protect you from every possible monster that existed but he had already made one mistake. One single mistake that cost your life.

You deserved only the best. Was Dean really the best option for you? No, he knew he wasn't, you could have someone much better than him who would have a lot more stable lifestyle – safer and which had less risks.

But Dean was too selfish to let you go into someone else's arms just like that.

Dean stood up and leaned closer to plant a kiss on your forehead. He cupped your face and gently stroked your cheek with his thumb.

"I love you," Dean whispered. "Please come back to me. I'll be better for you, i promise."

Why couldn't this be a fairytale where a princess would wake up with a true love's kiss? His life was no fairytale, none of it. There were no happy endings, at least not for him.

☆☆

One week and 4 days after the hunt

Sam and Dean visited you together today. Dean had dark circles under his eyes, and Sam had had to drive the car to the hospital in fear of Dean falling asleep behind the wheel.

"Dean, go get yourself a coffee or something. Stretch your legs a little bit, you've been sitting here for hours," Sam insisted.

"Sammy, I don't need to –"

"Dean," Sam interrupted, raising his eyebrows. "She won't go anywhere if you're gone for ten minutes."

Dean rolled his eyes and sighed, knowing full well Sam was right. It had been already over a week, what would another ten minutes matter?

All both Dean and Sam wanted right now was you to be okay. To all of you to be okay and live another day. But just a minute or two after Dean had left the room, leaving Sam to look out of the window and drown himself in his thoughts, something happened.

You slowly opened your eyes, the light above you almost blinding you. You turned your head around on the pillow, confused where you were and what had happened. Then, in the corner of the room, which you had assumed to be a hospital room, was sitting Sam, easing the anxiety in your chest a little bit.

"Sam...?" you mumbled, feeling your throat sore and almost scaring the life out of him.

"Y/N?" Sam breathed out, instantly standing up and coming towards you. His eyes were wide and lips apart, trying to recover from the shock not to freak you out. It had been over a week, so Sam hadn't expected you to wake up today either. "Oh thank god, you're alright."

"What happened?" you asked, trying to sit up but Sam instantly pushed you back on the mattress when you winced out of pain and body being sore.

"You were injured during the hunt and taken to the hospital," Sam explained slowly. "You fell into a coma."

"A coma?" you repeated, unsure if you heard him correctly. "For how long exactly?"

Sam bit his tongue, not sure how you'd react to the answer. "Over a week."

"A week?!" you shrieked in panic.

"Shh, calm down. You haven't missed anything special, don't worry," Sam assured, letting himself smile a little to ease down your panic.

Then, Dean arrived back to the room, holding a coffee in his hand which he almost dropped on the floor when he noticed you wide awake. His eyes grew wider.

Sam gave you a brief summary what had been going on during you were in a coma. He didn't tell you how broken Dean had been during the entire time and how he barely slept, but he explained a little bit about the hunts they had been involved in, since you were curious about that.

"Y/N, oh my god," Dean sighed, putting the cup of coffee down on the side table, rushing to your bed. He was speechless, not knowing what the hell to say, not having been prepared for you to open your eyes. He wanted to say so many things but none of the words felt right on his tongue.

Right then, an idea popped into your head. This was mean. This was going to be so mean. You knew you shouldn't do it.

"Um... who are you?" you asked, furrowing your brows to look confused.

Dean's face instantly fell, going from relieved and happy to confused and sad. He glanced at his brother who looked also surprised.

"You... you don't remember?" Dean mumbled quietly. The hurtful look in his eyes made your heart clench but this was a payback from earlier.

You glanced at Sam for comfort, who seemed to be just as confused.

"Wait, you don't remember Dean?" Sam asked.

"Should i?" you asked, playing the innocent victim with amnesia card.

"Hold on, she remembers you but not me?" Dean pointed at Sam, looking offended.

Sam noticed your face crack a little when Dean wasn't looking and could guess what was going on.

"Well, i suppose she must like me better then," Sam said and shrugged, looking all smug.

Dean raised his eyebrows, lips slightly parted. "The hell she does." Then, he turned back to you, kneeling down next to your bed and looked directly into your eyes. "Y/N, come on. You must remember at least some part of me, yeah?"

"I'm sorry," you apologized nervously. "Are we friends?" You narrowed your eyes and tilted your head. "Wait, are you... are you my boyfriend?"

Dean's cheeks turned slightly pink and he momenturaly turned his gaze away from you. "Um, friends, yeah," he replied awkwardly.

"Really? Only friends?" you asked. "I do remember you telling me that you loved me though."

Dean's eyes grew wider now. "What? I, when?" he stuttered.

"While i was in a coma," you responded, a smile spreading on your face. "I heard every love confession you made to me."

"Yeah, well, um. About that," Dean mumbled, the words getting stuck in his throat. It was so cute when Dean got all flustered like that.

Sam looked both amused and surprised, having no idea that his brother had been finally confessing how much he loved you to you, though while you were unconscious. He had been waiting for that day, sure, and apparently you had to be on the verge of dying for Dean to act on his feelings. Typical.

"I'm just kidding," you chuckled. "Of course i remember you, silly."

"That wasn't very funny, Y/N," Dean stated, raising his eyebrows. God, you made him go insane in every possible way. "Seriously, not funny at all."

"I know, i know, i'm horrible," you sighed and rolled your eyes, a wide smile creeping on your face. "But you still love me. Or did you say that just because i was dying?"

"I do love you, Y/N," Dean admitted seriously. "And the past week almost killed me."

"Killed you? Which one of us is lying on a hospital bed, huh?" you pointed out.

Dean was about to say something back when the doctor entered the room, looking genuinely surprised and relieved to see you awake. He rushed Sam and Dean out of the room to have a quick examination on you in private. Dean was hesitant to leave just like that but Sam grabbed his hand and pulled him away.

What if you had woken up for a moment and would fall into the coma again when he'd look away? What if what if what if.

☆☆

Home

Dean had wanted nothing more than to hug you tightly ever since you woke up, so tight that you couldn't almost breathe and you'd be glued on his body, merging into him. You had stitches on your stomach so he couldn't take a risk and accidentally rip them open, causing him to take you back to the hospital.

When you finally got back home, Dean felt like he had to keep an eye on you every damn moment. Have you sleep on a bed placed inside a circle of salt, have bottles of holy water on your bedside table and a silver dagger. Just in case you would wake up by a demon attacking you.

Dean knew he was overthinking things but he couldn't help but feel overprotective over you. He wanted to take you in his bed and cage you against him with his arms, pressing your head on his chest. You'd be safe with him.

"Dean, you alright?" you asked.

Yes, i'm perfectly fine. Don't worry about me, let me just worry about you. He should have said that. Should have just let it be. You didn't have to worry about his well-being.

"No, Y/N, i'm not," Dean admitted.

"What is it?" you asked.

"You," Dean whispered. "It's you, Y/N."

"Me?"

"I almost lost you, god damn it," Dean spat, voice harsher than he meant it to be, making you flinch a little. His face softened, and he closed his eyes to calm himself down. He felt your hand cup his cheek, making him open his eyes. Your gentle touch sent shivers down his spine.

"But you didn't, dummy," you sighed. You were taking the entire situation too lightly. You weren't the one who had to watch you lie there on the edge of death.

"Y/N, i-" he started. Why was this so hard? "I love you. You have no damn idea how much i love you. I visited you almost every day, holding your hand and talking to you, waiting for you to wake up but you didn't. I was going crazy, just having to wonder whether you would wake up or your heart would stop."

Tears were rising in his eyes, and he didn't even try to hold them in, letting a drop fall down his cheek, right past your fingers. For a second, you were speechless.

"I can't lose you. I just can't," Dean muttered, almost choking in his own words and having to bite his lip as his voice was starting to break in pieces.

"I'm here now, sweetheart. It's okay," you whispered and wrapped your arms around his neck, pressing his head on your chest, his ear against your beating heart. "Feel that? I'm alive, you didn't lose me."

Dean pulled back, keeping his face just couple of inches away from yours. It didn't take more than one quick glance on his lips before he pressed them against yours, taking you into a sweet and gentle kiss, treating you like you were made of glass and would break apart if he grabbed you with too much force.

"I love you too, Dean," you whispered.

"I'll protect you better from now on. I promise," Dean assured you, though actually more himself, letting the words sink into his mind. You were there and you were alive, at least for now. That's all that mattered.

☆☆