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adventuringblind · 7 months

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What you Deserve

Charles Leclerc x Reader x Lando Norris x Max Verstappen

Genre: angst

Summary: Max deserves to be loved in every way, and she, along with her two partners, are determined to give him that.

Warnings: toxic relationship, mentions of Max's childhood, use of whore as an insult, domestic dispute, implied smut,

Notes: No hate to Kelly. I just needed her to be the villain for the plot

Masterlist

Her life was, and is still, a Rollercoaster. Being the daughter of Christian Horner made it so. Her life has always been with cars. Her soul felt connected to them in a way.

Along with the cars, there also came the people. Seb, Daniel, and Max had become her attachments. Specifically Max since she's only a year younger than him.

You'd think they were in love by the way they acted with eachother. And she would be lying if she said she didn't want that. He, however, wanted to focus on his career and she respected that.

In 2019 she met Charles. An inevitable meeting since she was alway running around making sure things were going to plan. And by running, she means litterally.

She collided with the Monegasque while neither of them were paying attention.

He took her to dinner that night to apologize despite her protest.

It ended up being a fun night. After three after race dinners or outings it felt like tradition.

Something that started as friends didn't last long. Neither are sure who fell first, just that both of them did. They couldn't stay away from each other.

She told her dad. She was terrified and shaking and wanted to cry the entire time, but he took it well. He'd never had a problem with Charles and outside of racing he invited him in. The garage was still off limits.

She remained friends with Max during this time. Even the next year when he and Kelly had been getting closer. She knew it wasn't her place to say anything, but something felt off about it. And the ache in her heart for the blonde Dutch boy hadn't left despite her years with Charles.

It made her feel guilty. Everytime her thoughts flickered back to Max, she felt herself spiraling to places she shouldn't be.

Charles had caught her in such a state. He'd panicked when he saw her glassy and absent stare.

"What's wrong, chéri?" He knelt down next to her and took her hands in his despite his own body shaking.

"I'm not good for you."

"Well that's not true at all." He coos at her. Though it only makes her tears fall harder.

"I love you but I also love Max. Always have. It's not fair to you."

"I already knew amour." He chuckles. "And I don't care. I think your heart os big enough to love more then one person. I'd even be open to seeing if he wanted to join us."

Things changed for the better after that. She felt safe enough to talk about feelings she'd never been able to explore previously.

They'd made a few attempts at asking him about his relashonship with Kelly. None of it had gone anywhere. They didn't go out with them and Max seemed to get rigid and defensive at the subject. So they dropped it until they had more information to work with.

Lando came to them out of nowhere. One day he just exploded with life and laughter into their world and never left.

The Brit had made it very clear that he liked it with them and the other two felt the same. It worked in a way people would find unconventional. But it's their relationship and nobody else's business.

That conversation with her dad made her laugh instead of shake. Mostly because he decided to give a stern lecture to both boys about how he would not hesitate to send Max into the sides of their cars if they hurt her.

Similarly, Max also had a few things to say. Despite him and Kelly going public with their relationship, he still cared for her. A small part of him even knawed with jealousy at times.

Their love for each other felt so different. They openly expressed it and were always smiling around each other. Max had to do something amazing to get that kind of affection from Kelly. Or he had to do something for her first.

But it's all he knows. He'd never had affection modeled for him growing up. He'd seen more hurt then anything. And he can't help the part of himself that wants what they have.

"I'm getting worried about him." Says the female who is currently curled across the laps of her lovers.

"Pretty sure you're always worried about him." Lando smiles at her endearingly. His head is resing on Charles' chest and his fingers idly stroke through the females hair.

She hums in agreement. It's not unusual that she's worried about Max. But this felt different.

Three days ago, Max had made history. Yes everytime he was next to Kelly, the Dutch looked almost pained. Even at the after celebrations he tried to stay with the three of them and not Kelly who looked interested in chatting with other people.

"I believe Kelly is gone for a few days." Pipes Charles. He sets his phone down and cuddles closer to his two lovers. "We could see if he wants to go out with us."

"Wouldn't he be cheating on her then?"

"Realistically it could just be Max hanging out with friends. Plus what Kelly doesn't know won't kill her."

Max says yes. It shocks her that he does so. Max has always been loyal to a fault. Maybe he is in a worse situation then they thought.

They met at the restaurant. It wasn't anything high class and discreet enough that they would hopefully be able to eat in peace.

Max arrived fashionable late and looking mildly anxious.

"Sorry I'm late." He says while getting comfortable in his seat.

"No need to apologize." Reassures Charles. "Is everything alright?"

Max hesitates, his body going rigid like recalling a bad memory. "Kelly's trip got delayed and when I told her I had plans she tried to keep me home instead."

"She doesn't think your cheating or anything does she?" Lando almost whispers across the table. Eyes filled with concern.

"I don't think so? She's accused me of it a few times with y/n but not recently that I can remember."

The female, who's been fighting the urge to punch Kelly since she started dating Max, decides holding his hand is probably better then her words at the moment. He smiles at her in endearment and appreciation.

"Let's move to another topic, shall we?"

The rest of the dinner is spent conversing about nonsense. Nothing about racing or work just everything and nothing all mixed together.

Max is finally looking more relaxed. His phone forgotten in his pocket. His smile lighting up at silly stories and funny jokes. It's refreshing to see him like this and the female finds herself melting into the fact he looks so comfortable with them.

Three days after their dinner date, Max calls to ask if they'd be willing to come to his place for drinks. Which is how they find themselves standing in the doorway of Max's apartment almost dumbfounded.

There is hardly anything around that feels like Max. No redbull posters or racing themed items. No pictures of Max and Kelly together and nothing of Max with his family.

Even when Max is giving them a tour of the place, she spots a shelf that gives evidence this isn't a strangers place. A singular shelf. Again she's fighting the urge to rip all of Kelly's clothes to shreds.

"Mate, your apartment feels like it's a display case." Lando's nose scruntches up in confusion.

Max leads them over to the bar area and starts pouring drinks. His shoulders shrugging and the Brits comment. "Kelly says it's better for my focus if it's like this."

Charles must have caught the way she moved. Her body ready to throw all Kelly's personal belongings out the window. The Monegasque's hand on her thigh stops her from doing so. He shoots her a pointed look that says 'violence is not the answer'.

Joke on him. Violence is always the answer. She just needs to wait for the perfect opportunity to unleash her fury. Just like her sarcastic father and hard to faze mother taught her.

They spent the evening in relatively deep conversation. Not awkward, flowing and comfortable. Max was opening up about his. She knew majority of what happend in his youth but the things about Kelly are new. How Max talks like it's completely normal is beyond her.

They continued this dance for a few months. Waiting for Kelly to not be looking before showering the Dutch in affection. They didn't push anything, just tried to give Max the love he'd been missing and craving for so long.

She would say it was cheating. The three of them are simply being good friends and making sure Max is doing okay mentally. And physically.

Until they probably go a step to far. All of them buzzed with liquid courage. The tension from the last few months finally spilling over.

The intimate a passionate night brought then all together in ways she didn't know were possible. The way Max was tearing up at being taken care of for once made every piece of her melt.

They couldn't go back after this. Max had said so himself. He wanted to be done with Kelly but felt stuck.

They reassured him that whatever happened they would be waiting, ready with open arms.

A week after, Lando woke up to his phone buzzing at an ungodly hour in the morning. Her and Charles shot out of bed out the sound of Max's broken sob and the sound of something smashing in the background.

The car ride felt blurry. The anger rising in her chest making it hard to breathe. Lando's voice is swimming in her head as he tries to keep Max on the phone with him and keep him breathing.

When they get to Max's apartment, the door is unlocked. Charles swings it open to reveal Kelly angrily stomping around. The place is a mess and there is shattered glass covering majority of the floor.

Kelly stops over to the female and lands a finger in the center of her chest. "This is your fault. You made Max into a damn whore for you people."

"Pretty sure you're the whore. Aren't you the one who feels the need to keep yourself young by sleeping with people who are barely legal behind Max's back?" She spits.

Kelly's palm connects with her cheek. Her face stings but her knuckles are burning with fiery rage. She doesn't give Kelly time to recover. Her fist connects with her jaw and sends her reeling backwards.

She'd been so engrossed that she didn't realize the boys had pulled Max out of wherever he was hiding. Now in the saftey of Lando's arms. Charles is the one who ultimately pulls her away from the scene. Despite her fighting him at first to get another hit on Kelly in before they leave.

The next few days are filled with attempting to get Max's things, phone calls, and the ensuring PR circus. The legal things worked themselves out since technically it's his apartment and Max never layer a finger on Kelly. Furthermore, Kelly hit her first so she got away on the 'self defense' excuse.

Max had his stuff mixed in with theirs. She'd printed pictures of them all together and pinned them to the wall. His presences in the house is known.

As she stands in the doorway of their room, her three lovers curled up together, snoring peacefully, she knows it was always meant to be.

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atinylittlepain · 1 month

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Part One

no outbreak!joel miller x f!oc

series playlist

joel miller masterlist

series masterlist

She's tired. He's tired. They're neurotic. They're in love. Something needs to change. They need to change.

word count | 4.5K

chapter content info | 18+ angst, discussions of pregnancy, people being WASPy, marital squabbles that become something more serious some of the time, but also real, persistent love

a/n | listen, don't look at me. not gonna lie, it feels good to be back in the ring and i'm excited to share this one with y'all. special thanks to @wannab-urs for beta-ing and for encouraging me along with this one - love ya, twin.

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He looks handsome and he’s getting on her nerves. She looks beautiful and he still doesn’t think it’s a good idea for her to go to this. She knows he doesn’t think it’s a good idea for her to go to this, but she thinks that’s bullshit, kid gloves that she doesn’t need from him, or from anyone for that matter.

He could, but he doesn’t tell her that her left eye is twitching a little bit. Her left eye is twitching a little bit, she blinks hard every time she feels muscle starting to spasm, keeps her face turned away from him and toward the passenger side window.

“What is it?”

“What?”

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong.”

“You keep sighing.”

“I’m just tired.”

“It’s ten in the morning.”

“It’s been a long week.”

“It’s Sunday.”

“I meant last week then.”

“Are you taking those multivitamins I got you?”

“Uh, yeah.”

“I checked the bottle this morning and the safety seal is still on it.”

“Cass.”

“What?”

“I don’t think a multivitamin is going to be the thing that makes me feel less tired.”

“I hate it when you say my name like that.”

“Okay, how should I say it?”

“Nevermind.”

“What?”

“It’s fine, okay? Let’s just drop it, I don’t want to start the day like this.”

“We’re not starting the day like anything, we’re just having a conversation.”

“Joel, please, I’m not doing this with you right now.” And he asks it before he can think much about it, knee-jerk and maybe a little mean, did you take your pills this morning? Right, going for the nuclear option this morning, she lets out a clipped sound that could be a laugh if it wasn’t so sharp and he wishes there were a way to pluck words out of the air and swallow them back down. And she knows that whatever she says to that is going to be a failure. If she gets angry, if she blows up, she’s crazy. If she informs him that she did, in fact, take her pills, then she’s a liar, because she did, in fact, not take her pills, so she’s even crazier, right.

“You know, that’s a fucked thing to ask me.” Ring the bell because she’s won this round. He thinks about offering her an apology, a glance while they’re stopped at a red light that only affords him the slope of her cheek and her hair tucked behind her ear with the way her face is turned away from him. He sighs and it makes her shoulders hike up a little higher.

There’s a spiral of pink balloons wrapped around the porch banister when they pull up, and of course there is a spiral of pink balloons wrapped around the porch banister, she thinks, because Tommy and Maria are having a girl, and that’s lovely, and she is going to smile when she gets out of the car because of how lovely that is. Already thinking about what her face will have to do to make that smile happen while he parks at the end of the driveway because they’re a little late, always a little late these days. At least they have a clear and present escape route, he thinks.

“Here, let me.” He does, stays still while she runs her fingers up behind the collar of his shirt to smooth it down, and she thinks that she’s not the only one trying to buy a little more time. Made it out of the car, but still standing in front of the car, he has always liked the feeling of her palms splayed over his chest, hums and thanks her for fixing his collar, leans in for a quick smacking thing of a kiss that she gives back to him all ease, and he thinks that maybe they’ll get to be normal today.

“Remind me again what we got them?”

“Bottle warmer and a set of swaddling blankets.”

“What, they can’t use hot water from the tap like everyone else?” That gets him a clipped laugh from her, and he knows he’s bordering on something tender that could snap and snarl if he says any more, so he takes the laugh and leaves it at that. She laughs, feels stupid for the heat that thickens and closes in behind it and hides the flush from him by collecting the gifts from the trunk. Pastel pink and perfect wrapping paper with thin ribbon curled and bouncing. She briefly considers how it would feel to rip it all to pieces. But no, none of that, because this is Tommy and Maria, and she loves Tommy and Maria, really, she does, so happy for Tommy and Maria. Happy, happy, happy.

Maria is the one who opens the door, all smiles, all round because she made it to the third trimester. He glances at Cass as they enter into the usual greetings and congratulations, leaning hugs and Tommy somewhere in the fray. Cassandra thinks she’s doing a good job of smiling but she can’t really feel her mouth, letting her lungs collapse a little when Tommy pulls her in for a quick squeeze, hey, Cassie, good to see you. And maybe it’s the lack of pills in her system but is he? Is it? Verging a little close to hostage negotiator territory? Talking to her like she’s a skittish horse? Because, apparently, it’s not just Joel, but the whole clan who seems to expect her to have a hard time with this. His and Tommy’s parents smile and pet at her shoulders when they see her, that same so good to see you, as if they didn’t just see her a month ago for the fourth of July barbecue, as if she’s the one who’s–

“I appreciate y’all being here, I know Maria does too.” Everyone in the backyard even though it’s already pushing eighty degrees, linen dresses and blue jeans and fluted glasses filled with orange juice and something a little stiffer. He squints at Tommy, nods, of course, lets his eyes drift out over mingling friends and family, settling on Cass. She’s smiling, mouth moving around easy words in a small cluster of women. Her arm is curled across her stomach, elbow held in hand, drink held aloft. She is doing fine, he thinks, good. And of course she’s doing fine, everything fine, and he’s fine too. Her eyes catch his and her smile stays, and he feels one of his own, there and gone. They are doing fine.

“Is Cass, you know, doing alright?”

“Oh yeah, she’s doing fine.”

She can feel sweat starting to collect along the waistband of her underwear, a cool, nauseous shiver, so terrible running beneath the skin. Someone, she can’t remember the name, a friend of Maria’s, is saying something about tits. Well, she doesn’t use the word tits, no, that word couldn’t come out of her baby pink painted lips. Breasts, and Cassandra curls her lips back into her mouth to stop herself from offering up mammary glands, if you want to be so proper about it, smiling and mmhmming instead about stretch marks and leakage and sore, seaming skin. Not that she’d know anything about it, not really. But all the other women do, something close to sharing war stories, all the space the body can make, and what remains when it’s empty once again. Now that, empty, she knows a thing or two about empty.

“You hear from Sarah lately?”

“You wanna know what I hear from her? Is mom there? And then can you put her on?” Tommy laughs, continuing to make quick work out of carving up another watermelon, pink, pink, pink while Joel enjoys a second to breathe in the air conditioned kitchen. Almost eleven, and they’re going to do cake at almost eleven, and he supposes he doesn’t really know what the etiquette is for things like these so sure, he thinks, cake at almost eleven.

“I guess dad’s advice can only work for so long, huh?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“She’s a freshman in college, man, you don’t remember what we were like at that age?”

“I’d rather not, thanks.” And the truth is he remembers very little of that time. Playing at boy king, at living forever, and then the flashbang burst and bloom, obliteration and letting the shrapnel boomerang back together when Sarah came. And then, he thinks, back out on the porch and squinting at the sun threaded through the branches of an elm tree, then, it was a sort of crawl in those first few years.

What he remembers, very little eye contact from anyone, and wanting it more than anything. Never expecting the father to be the one to stay, the very young, very bleary-eyed father who eventually learned to stop looking for other eyes to meet his. Yes, a crawl, kept his head down until one day, two-year-old in tow in the grocery store, looking at pouches of pureed sweet potatoes and peaches, someone ducked her head down alongside his, looked him in the eye, and asked him if it was his wallet she found at the end of the aisle. For the record, it wasn’t his, but he can’t remember who it got returned to any more. That Tina Turner song was playing over the speakers, he remembers that. What’s love got to do with it, what’s love got to do with a HEB on a Wednesday night? Just enough for him to keep going to the HEB on Wednesday nights, hoping to run into the woman who looked him in the eye and told him his daughter was beautiful and had his smile.

“How many do you and Joel have, Cassandra?” Must have been smiling and nodding a little too well to get that question from Sally, Sammy? She doesn’t know. She doesn’t care. Maria needs better friends, she thinks, or maybe just less of them for her to keep track of.

“Oh, just one. Sarah started college this year actually.” And the usual sequence of snobbery that follows her sharing that detail. Yes, had her very young, yes, must be so proud, and she is proud, she can mean that yes, at least.

“But she’s not yours, is that right?”

“Excuse me?” Excuse you, Sally, Sammy, whoever the fuck you are. Excuse you in your baby blue linen dress and your fuckass bob. Sally, Sammy, whoever the fuck she is, eats her words fast, quick flickers of french tips and well, I just mean, not yours biologically, you know, I think Maria mentioned something about you adopting her when you and Joel got married. Said with that pitch that winches higher and higher with each word like a question going nowhere. She clasps her hands behind her back and digs her nails into the soft of her palms until the urge to throttle Sally, Sammy, whoever the fuck she is passes.

“Yeah, well, she’s not mine in that way. But I’ve been in her life since she was two so, I think that matters a little more than if she slid out of my vagina.” Shit, slipped, should not have said that, gets a glossed gasp from the peanut gallery and she’s just glad Maria is off hostessing with other people right now, not bearing witness to the way she just slaughtered this conversation with the sharp of her words. Excuse her Sally, Sammy, whoever the fuck you are, and excuse her, all the rest of you, she needs to get out of the heat, out of the sun, out of whatever this is.

He knows what looks mean what by now. A pinched brow, a frown that’s just barely a frown. She breezes past the kitchen with one hand pressed high against her stomach as if to make sure the rise and fall is still happening. Says her name once and she waves a hand behind her, already halfway down the hall and not turning around now, sorry, just need the bathroom. Tommy’s eyes do that thing, that softening, slipping thing, looking at him and not asking the question, though it hangs in the air somewhere between them. He excuses himself, walks slowly enough that the bathroom door is already shut and locked by the time he gets to it. The faucet is running, all he hears when he says her name again, feeling like a perfect fool knocking on the door. Not the first time this has happened, and she feels more foolish every time it does. But he’s already asked her if she’s taken her pills today so at the very least, that question is out of the way. Or maybe he’ll ask it again, and maybe she’ll break something, and then report back to her OB-GYN who, for some reason, is the one prescribing her these pills, and tell her OB-GYN that she’s getting crazier and needs more pills that she’ll forget to take. Repeat ad nauseam. No, she thinks, too tired for any of that, two years too tired. She presses her fingers into her temples and closed eyes until the throb in her skull begins to still.

“Do you want to go home?” He doesn’t know how to handle this, not really. Seems to get it wrong more often than not, and sometimes his own frustration turns into meanness that makes it worse, he knows that. He doesn’t know how to deal with her any more, she knows that. The truth is she doesn’t even know how to deal with herself any more, everything always raw and hurting, blistered brain and aching heart and wilting like a frail, flimsy thing. She does alright keeping it tamped down most of the time, keeping it cool and closed off. But, there are times when it flares, like a thin flume of disease nested somewhere deep inside of her. During things like these, around people like these, and the month of April, forget about it.

“I said something a little awful, I think.” Sheepish, the door still only cracked, enough that he can see that she isn’t crying so, little lift of relief in his chest, at least.

“What’s that?” He slips in through the half-opened door and she lets him, shuts the door behind him and tells him, may have snapped, may have used the word vagina. It’s a relief to hear him laugh, a single breath of it like he’s not sure if he should. He touches her hand, her wrist, her elbow, little pulse points, half a tired smile.

“There are worse words to use.”

“Could have said cunt.” She shrugs and you’d think he’d have gotten used to her surprising him like that after sixteen years together, but it’s still a giddy little shock to the system, her brass and brash. Like another vital sign, so long as she has her fang she’s fine, at least he thinks so.

“Yeah, that.” He laughs again, coughs, heat flushing down fast in his face and there’s a quick kick in her chest at the sight, something dormant getting stirred up. She likes that look, coaxing that look out of him. The first time, way out of line and out of place, she thinks. Fresh out of college and buying condoms and pretzel rods at the HEB down the block from her apartment and she shouldn’t have, pretty guy, man, father with pretty brown eyes and a little girl in the seat of his shopping cart with pretty brown eyes like his and she shouldn’t have. Thought she was so smooth, pretending like the wallet she showed him wasn’t hers, like she had found it on the linoleum floor, yeah, so smooth, just looking for a reason to shuffle down the baby food aisle and talk to pretty guy, man, father. That same flush, that same smile, little shock, though he had caught her too, taking a sharp glance down at her basket before she could tuck it behind her legs. And then her turn, little shock when he made some joke about little late for me, for that, shrug and smile and yes, she thinks, she didn’t exactly love him right then and there, but whatever comes right before love, it was that.

“Listen, if it’s getting to be too much for you we can–” Wrong, all wrong, sound in the back of her throat like a scoff that’s how wrong those words were.

“Why does everyone seem to think this is too much for me? It’s a fucking baby shower, not a, I don’t even know what. I’m fine, it’s fine. It’s Tommy’s and Maria’s day and I’m so happy for them that they’re having a–” It catches her off guard, the way the sound gets stuck in her throat, not quite a sob, but verging on it, hiccuping out the rest, a baby. He reaches for her arm again but she jerks it away, hands clasping opposite elbows, all tucked in on herself.

“It’s okay if it’s not fine, you know, nobody is expecting you to–”

“Nobody is expecting me to keep it together, right?”

“Would you let me finish speaking?” No, never winning any points for patience, ever. Not too many for thinking before he speaks either. Her face crumples for a breath, if that, smoothing back out with a scoff, I’m so sorry, Joel, what were you going to say? No, not normal, not today. He wonders briefly how long they’ve been in the bathroom now, and whether they’ve been speaking loudly enough to draw attention to the fact of how long they’ve been in the bathroom now.

“You know what, forget it. If you say you’re fine then I guess you’re fine. Can we just get through fucking cake and leave, please?” She’s very good at this, at turning herself off, something cool and distant slipping over her eyes, her face, shoulders rolled back sharp. Of course, she says, whatever you say, she says, doesn’t give him another glance as she opens the bathroom door.

“Oh, I’m sorry, I wasn’t standing here long, just waiting to use the–”

“Cunt.”

“I’m sorry?”

“Cut– I had a cut and I needed Joel to look at it but I’m fine, right, Joel? Aren’t I fine?” She doesn’t give him a chance to answer that, doesn’t give Sally, Sammy, whoever the fuck she is a chance to say any more either, already moving past both of them and back toward the sound of laughter and cake, fucking cake about to happen.

He needs to keep his mouth shut, all he can figure. Keep his mouth shut and maybe, maybe, they’ll get through fucking cake without any more seams splitting. Nothing like this when Sarah came, no balloons, no perfectly frosted and tiered cake with a whole cluster of people around it, and he thinks briefly that maybe he’s the one who isn’t fine being here. Like an ache, or an absence, a place inside of him that has been scooped out and left empty. He doesn’t let himself get sad about it often, mostly because he’s too busy being angry about it with (at?) Cass. But he feels it now, a sinking, swimming feeling that weighs everything down, slow to smile when Maria hands him a plate with a slice of cake on it.

She takes a plate and pushes around globs of pink icing with her fork for a while, standing in another cluster of people she doesn’t really know, one of the women commenting on how good she’s being when she sets her plate down on the kitchen counter, smile and laugh, though the truth is she’s not sure she could stomach pretty pink icing right now. A small mercy when Tommy steps over alongside her and effectively relieves her of having to continue pretending to be interested in a conversation about kitchen remodels.

“Looking a little green, Cassie, you alright?”

“I think the heat got to me, but I’ll survive. Congratulations again, you guys are going to be great, really.” And she hopes he interprets the pitch, the little catch of her words as a good emotion that is entirely for him and his family. Not anything else, not anything that would be entirely ridiculous and well, crazy, on her part.

“I just want to say thank you again for giving us all that furniture, and the clothes, we really–”

“Oh of course, Tom, you did us a favor taking all that stuff. It’s not like we were going to–” Going to what? She doesn’t finish that sentence, and Tommy doesn’t need her to, already nodding, already that look in his eyes that she has come to recognize as thinly-concealed pity. Not like they were ever going to have a use for that furniture, those clothes, not again, not after. A foreclosed room in their house that stayed as silent and shut up as a tomb, and then the happy, happy, happy news from Tommy and Maria and of course, they said, take whatever you want, take it all, actually. The room is empty now. The door stays closed.

He wants to leave and he wants to leave now. The walls creeping in closer and that hollow thing in between his ribs starting to ache and twinge. He catches her eyes from across the room and it takes little else for a knowing to pass between them, both of them already moving, already starting a string of polite goodbyes, friends and family, sorry, yes, really have to go, it’s becoming hard to breathe, really have to go.

Early in the afternoon and the sun so bright it makes him a little dizzy when they step outside. He follows the sound of her heels on the sidewalk back to the car, relief in the closing of the door, in settling into the driver’s seat.

She feels like her brain is deflating in her skull. Enough normal for the day, don’t ask her for any more than that. She props her head in her hand and lets her eyes unfocus, turning the suburban streets they're driving through into pale blurs of minivans and basketball hoops. And there is little fanfare to what happens next, she glances at him once, then looks out the window, hears a metallic clink, and when she looks at him again, there’s a cigarette dangling from his lips. It’s so absurd, so out of nowhere, that she has to laugh.

“Since when do you smoke?”

“I don’t know. Tommy’s a bad influence.”

“Tommy quit.”

“Well then I did him a favor finishing off all his packs.”

“Joel.”

“Yes?”

“How did I miss you picking up smoking again?”

“It’s not like I do it around the house, I know you don’t like the smell.”

“Oh, but you’re happy to trap me in the car with it?”

“The windows are down.”

“Secondhand smoke.”

“Would you prefer to get out at the next red light?”

“You know, you’re probably gonna die before me. Then what the fuck am I supposed to do?”

“What the fuck is wrong with you?”

“I’m serious. Statistically speaking, men die first–”

“I wonder why.”

“Cardiac events.”

“That tracks.”

“You’re already two years older than me and now you’re doing shit like this and I’m probably gonna be like, sixty-eight and a widow, and then I’ll die of stress from being a sixty-eight-year-old widow.”

“Are you done?”

“Oh fuck you–”

“Hey.”

“No, what next, huh? Are you gonna ask me if I took my pills again?”

“Well, did you?”

“That’s not the point.”

“Jesus Christ, Cass, it’s like you don’t even want to get better, you don’t even try.” Silence, she doesn’t fire back, doesn’t make a sound, her lips parted around a wordless frown. The only noise is the turn signal clicking as he pulls into a gas station, his heart sunk down low in his chest, shrinking back in on itself. Too far, too mean, and not even knowing what he was saying until he said it, until she was looking at him in a devastated crumple.

He parks beside a pump but doesn’t get out, doesn’t move at all, really. Waiting. For what, he isn’t sure. When he looks at her again, that stricken look is gone, something slackening, something tired settled in its place.

“Do you remember when you stopped shaving and you asked me if your beard looked stupid and I told you it didn’t?”

“Uh, yes.”

“I lied. Your beard does look stupid.” And with that, she’s out of her seat, out of the car, and clipping fast toward the convenience store, not sparing him another look. He doesn’t know whether to laugh or scream.

The light flickers a little in the convenience store bathroom when she flips it on, locking the door behind her just as the first sob shudders up and out of her throat. She doesn’t look in the mirror, she has no use for that, just grips the edge of the sink and allows herself this, a few minutes to get the worst of it out.

He had finished pumping gas ten minutes ago when she comes back out with a bottle of snapple lemonade tucked under her arm. She has been crying, he can see. He doesn’t know why she always hides it from him. It catches him off guard when she walks around the front of the car to stand in front of his rolled-down window, something bordering on sheepish in the set of her expression, her eyes doing a quick loop from her feet back up to him.

“I didn’t mean that.”

“Okay.”

“I don’t think your beard is stupid.”

“Okay.”

“I like it, think you look handsome with it.”

“Honey, will you get in the car, please?” She does, offers him the bottle of lemonade and they both take a swig, waiting for whatever words are supposed to come next. A car honks at them, still at the pump, and he has enough sense to wave an apology behind his head and pull over into a parking spot instead.

“I’m sorry for what I said. Cass? That was a stupid thing for me to say. I didn’t mean that.” She wants to say no, not a stupid thing to say, not unfair, not really. But that would be an admission she doesn’t want to make, so she nods, accepts his apology, both of them having a hard time looking at the other, suddenly so interested in the brick wall of the convenience store.

“We can’t keep doing this.” She doesn’t realize how much she means that until she’s done saying it. Finally saying it, this truth they have been scrapping and snapping around for months now. He says, no, we can’t, and she braces for impact, anticipating the worst, the nuclear option, and she wouldn’t blame him for it. But that blow doesn’t come. He takes her hand over the center console, as simple as anything, and she is reminded again of how much she loves him.

“Something has to change.”

“I think so.”

“We can figure this out, can’t we?”

“It’s us.” As if that’s an answer, though he still nods, repeats it back to her, it’s us. It’s them. They can’t keep doing this. They have to change. They can figure this out, can’t they?

#joel miller fanfiction #joel miller #joel miller angst #joel miller fluff #joel miller au #joel miller series #joel miller story #joel miller fic #joel miller x f!oc

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alienwithaguitar · 2 months

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Does anyone else think this Wilbur thing has been blown way out of proportion? First of all, I am in FULL support of Shelby and am not defending Wilbur. As a victim myself, I sympathize with her story, and I will never discredit her experiences. But this community is going to extremes that make me so fucking uncomfortable.

What people forget is that Wilbur has a record label. He CAN'T say whatever he wants. There’s a reason he made a statement not an apology, why Lovejoy hasn’t said anything, why he never mentioned Shelby by name, why he didn’t apologize- because making promises can get you in legal trouble. One of the first things you learn about car accidents is to not apologize, even if it's your fault, because that will be used against you in court. Admissions can even get you in trouble for things you didn’t do, if the other party decides to push for that. He’s almost certainly not allowed to apologize because his record label can't risk the legal trouble. We can excuse Quackity for making poor statements for the same reason, so why can't we keep that energy here?

Wilbur has always been an unstable man. As a long time fan and someone who heavily relates to YCGMA’s themes of being awful and feeling like you’ll never get better, he struggles with a lot of mental problems. His persona has been built around manic, destructive tendencies and that’s something that’s been a part of his brand for YEARS. He's brought up drugs and alcohol use in the past, and one of his closest friends recently passed away, which certainly only added to things. Mental health isn't an excuse, but it is a REASON. (Listen to Mammalian Sighing Reflex and tell me it doesn’t resemble compilations of artists deteriorating as they lose their sanity)

I don’t understand how anyone can actively want him to kill himself. Or wish that he gets worse. You can’t claim to be an advocate for mental health and helping victims if you don’t want EVERYONE involved getting serious help. Wilbur needs therapy, he needs to atone if either of them want to heal. Nobody has to forgive him, or welcome him back into their life, but he absolutely deserves the chance to fix himself to ensure this doesn’t happen AGAIN.

If you can seriously say that you want him to get worse, and you don’t care about his mental health, then you DON'T care about victims. Leaving a destructive man to rot alone WILL lead to repeat events in the future. As someone with multiple diagnoses for debilitating mental illnesses, when I was at my lowest, I hurt myself. I hurt other people. Mental illness isn’t cute shit you put in your bio. It's terrifying, isolating, exhausting. And if I wasn’t given a chance at therapy and healing, I could have continued hurting people for the rest of my life.

These tweets just confirm none of you actually care about mentally ill people, it's all situational and performative. This is the most clear cry for help I've seen and you're feeding into it. Most of you will never understand what debilitating mental illness is like, how easy it is to hurt people you care about. You can hate him, be pissed, wish he never did it, deplatform him, I AM TOO! But nobody involved would be happy if he killed himself. These are real people, not characters in a soap drama. Actively wishing for him to kill himself is disgusting. If you care at all about Shelby getting closure, Wilbur needs to understand what he did wrong and fix it, so she can move on.

Also the lying I’ve seen is so stupid. The spotify stuff is fake. Anyone who’s a casual fan of Wilbur has known for a long time that’s not his spotify account. It’s a fan account that posts unofficial versions of his songs. So easily debunked and yet people still hold it against him??

Again, I'm in FULL support of Shelby. I fully condemn his actions, and as a victim I'm so proud of her for speaking up. But at the end of the day, we’re people. I'm glad many of you have never had the kind of debilitating downward spiral that leads to you hurting yourself and others, but if you think that makes it okay to wish an unstable man takes his life, then you can’t say you’re a mental health advocate. Take care of yourselves, please think twice about your own morals if you're sitting around hoping fans and creators commit suicide.

If you are one of the people actively waiting for him to kill himself, I pray that you never find yourself hurting others at your lowest, and I pray that people show you the kindness you didn't give to him.

#not a wilbur defense post #but its still important to consider #wilbur #wilbursoot #wilbur soot #shelby #shelby shubble #shubble

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iliveforyouilongforyouvesuvia · 2 months

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Angst!!! Can you make the M6's reaction to MC who is always bubbly and cheerful suddenly change in personality?

Context: While MC was out, some person came up to them and said in front of their face that they were annoying and noisy, even saying the M6 were secretly irritated by their personality. MC was deeply hurt by their words and believed it. So of course, they drastically changed to a quiet and reserved person, which the M6 find this concerning. Is it okay? Thanks!

The Arcana Mini-HCs: Bubbly!MC gets suddenly quiet

Julian: hates how suddenly quiet you are and immediately assumes that it's because he did something to make you not talk to him. and now he's spiraling and babbling and overthinking and - please talk to him - !! once you explain, he's cupping your face in his hands so he can tell you exactly how wrong they were. ... are you sure it's not him?

Asra: can tell something's off, but doesn't want to assume when you could just be tired. is extra sweet and gentle around you until you either bring it up or they ask why you've been so quiet lately. might tap in to your bond to check in, and then pull you in for the warmest hug while he mumbles how he loves your voice into your shoulder

Nadia: knows right away that something's wrong, but is also conscious of her own "fix it" attitude towards emotional issues and tries to give you space. and gives up because you bring so much light and joy into her life, tell her what's wrong so she can make it better! might hunt down and destroy whoever hurt you later that day

Muriel: he's always a fan of silence, but ... not like this. starts slowly, asking you questions about the things you love talking about, and gets increasingly alarmed when you don't start rambling excitedly. doesn't know how to bring it up, so he starts acting the way you usually do to point out that your roles shouldn't be reversed

Portia: oh, you are not acting like yourself, and even if you were, her out of control empathy levels would be absorbing the bad vibes a mile away. she's confronting this, now. what happened. why are you quiet. are you okay? talk to her! will kiss you and then shake you and then kiss you again and make you laugh until it's all forgotten

Lucio: notices it on a gut level first, because your relentless sunshine is what makes the good life exciting and now the world is slowly going ... gray. bring the sunshine back, please. asks you what's wrong when you fail to compliment his sword skills and then promptly suggests using said sword skills on whoever spoke to you like that

#ask arcana brainrot #the arcana #the arcana headcanons #the arcana hc #the arcana game #asra the arcana #julian the arcana #nadia the arcana #muriel the arcana #portia the arcana #lucio the arcana #asra alnazar #julian devorak #nadia satrinava #muriel of the kokhuri #portia devorak #lucio morgasson

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gold-rhine · 1 year

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Afab! Scaramouche x GN! Dom reader first time

A\N: I guess technically it’s hurt\comfort. sigh. I don’t like to center my writing of trans characters on negative emotions, if you’ve read my previous stuff, you know when I write afab! male characters it’s like. Just guys, who happen to have pussies, having sex. And that’s how I initially started to write Scara’s afab first time prompt, but his canon storyline is so overtly about struggle of dysphoria, anxiety and self-hatred that it felt wrong to not incorporate it into my explicitly trans fic. So I had to rewrite it completely and I’m taking his part out of the compilation so ppl who want to avoid heavy topics and just have a good time reading smut can skip it. Otherwise, give it a try if you like complicated brats, I think it’s one of my good pieces and it has a happy ending.

Warnings: not sfw. graphic descriptions of dysphoria, anxiety attack, dissociation, angst, self-hatred, allusion to self-harm. Fingering, edging, overstim, spanking, oral (character receiving), vaginal sex. Cock stands for strap too, as usual.

Wordcount: 2k

You try to start slow and gentle with him, but he huffs mockingly.

“How long are you going to be wasting my time?”

“This is literally your first time, you little git.”

“Maybe you mortals need to be coddled, but I’m not a weakling.”

But despite his bravado, he’s tense when you kiss him, he doesn’t know how to properly kiss you back and what to do with his hands, so they just limply hang down. When you start opening his clothes to reveal his chest, he’s becoming more and more wooden. You try kissing him, his cheek, his neck, but it doesn’t relax him and he refuses to meet your eyes, still painfully clenched up, jaw locked tightly, like he’s preparing for something bad that he needs to just get through. He is not out publicly yet, still clinging to the belief that if he conforms to her expectations well enough, his mother will accept him. He’s so critical of himself all the time, especially of his body, which is just horrible and wrong, he hates seeing it himself and hates even more the thought of someone else seeing him naked.

“Hey, are you okay?” you ask quietly. “We can stop.”

“No!” he snaps. “I’m great. I don’t need to stop, are you stupid?!”

He wants you, is the thing. He wanted you for some time, got butterflies in his stomach, fantasized about you at nights. He wanted you more than anyone else in his life. So if he can’t bear even for you to see him, to have sex with him, then obviously something is deeply, fundamentally broken in him, no hope for him at all.

So desperately, he tries to find a roundabout solution. He’s still wearing a skirt, which he normally hates, but now it’s convenient, you could fuck him without taking it off.

“We don’t have to take off my clothes. There’s nothing good to see anyway. ”

He sounds frantic and frustrated, eyes alight with anger, and this does not look like a good situation to continue to you.

“It’s not a big deal, we can do it some other time when…”

“It’s just a cunt, you don’t need to see it!” He finally meets your eyes and you realize the brightness in them is not from anger, it’s from held back tears, because he believes you are rejecting him no matter what you say, “Why wouldn’t you just fuck it?!”

He hates his body and he doesn’t even want to have a pussy, but somehow subconsciously he feels like the one he has is also wrong, not even good enough for fucking, that whoever sees it will also recoil in disgust, as he does when he sees himself in the mirror. It’s ridiculous and he knows it, but he can’t help feeling like this, and he hates himself even more for this idiotic, nonsensical weakness, so this spirals into this vicious, unending cycle of self-disgust that he can’t see a way out of. What the fuck is so wrong with him that he can have a person he wants so much touching him and still be petrified, when it’s so easy for everyone else, and when…

You scoop him into your arms, turn him around so he doesn’t have to face you and hug him close to your chest. When he gasps and tries to protest, you clasp your hand over his mouth, kiss his ear.

“Don’t worry baby, I won’t look. But you need to calm the fuck down.”

He wants to struggle, but he’s so touch starved that when you embrace him, your warm breath on his skin makes him melt, especially combined with the wave of relief from your promise. He stops fighting you, curls up into a little ball in your arms, hiding his blushing face in a pillow, humiliated by how good it feels to be held, how little it takes.

“You don’t want me,” he says, miserable, but stubbornly proud, when you let go of his mouth. “You just pity me. I don’t want you to be here just because you feel bad for me.”

“I want you. I just wouldn’t want to fuck someone while they’re having a nervous breakdown. You or anyone else, for that matter.”

“It’s fine,” he says firmly. “I’m fine. I will be fine. Just do what you want to me, ignore my reactions, and soon I won’t even feel anything. It’s okay. I’m a puppet.”

It’s the conviction in his voice, the absolute certainty that there’s no better option that breaks your heart a little.

“Fucking hell, do you even hear yourself?”

“Why?” he says, face pressed against pillow, but calm, limp in your arms, a puppet with cut strings, and you hate it. ”It’s true, I am not like normal humans. You don’t have to treat me as one. It’ll be easier for the both of us, in the end.”

Maybe I just want you to feel good, baby.”

“Pffft,” he snorts like it’s ridiculous, like you’re naive and this option is not even on the agenda, and also so stupid he doesn’t even want to argue about it. “Even for humans, first time is supposed to be painful.”

“That’s bullshit.”

“No, everyone knows it, and…”

You clasp your hand over his mouth again and he starts squirming, noises muffled by your palm, but his protests die down as soon as your other hand starts siding down his body.

“You’re so bossy for a little brat, aren’t you?”

You flip up his skirt and slap his ass, and he jolts up in your arms, gasps against your skin. You stroke the affected skin first gently, then with more and more pressure, until groping it, fingers digging into his tender flesh. “Maybe be a good doll and let me handle this for you.”

He didn’t know it could feel like this, not even when he came thinking of you before, so good, like he’s safe, being taken care of, but also so sweetly helpless, unable to resist. His head is light and dizzy with desire when you caress his thighs, nervously and instinctively clenched up, and he can’t remember his millions of concerns when you whisper “Open up for me, baby.”

He lets your hand between his legs, you slide into his panties and find him already wet, but when you stroke his clit and quietly tell him “Good boy,” it runs through him like lightning, eyes opening wide, moan escaping from his lips, his entire body arching up against you.

“Yeah, that’s right, baby,” you keep caressing his clit, and he writhes more and more against you. “Doesn’t it feel good?”

His hand grips abruptly at your wrist, his slender fingers digging deep, and for a moment you think he’ll try to tear you off him, but then you realize that instead, he presses you closer to himself. You smile against his neck, the hand that kept at his mouth slides down, stroking his throat and down to his chest. At the same time, you slide your other hand deeper in between his legs, find his wet, pulsing entrance. You push two fingers into him, and he shudders against you, his fingers clenching at your wrist, but his cunt is wet and ready for you, stretching sweetly and leaking, his hips bucking against you. His breath is quick and frantic, heart beating rapidly, and then his fingers find your hand that isn’t buried inside of his pussy, leads it down his chest and then under the clothes, under the bra, to find and caress his small tits, and he whines sweetly, arches up, hard nipples poking at your palm. But when you take your fingers out of his pussy and press the head of your cock against his entrance, he tenses up again, his muscles spasming.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing! Just do it! It’s supposed to feel good for you when it's tight, isn’t it? So just fuck it, I can take it!”

He shuts up with a tiny gasp when you press your teeth into the side of his neck, which lets you keep groping his tits.

“I’ve never met someone, for whom a ballgag is so obviously needed for survival before. It’s going to be okay, baby, relax.”

You stroke his clit and massage his breasts, cutting his protests short, his hands clutching helplessly at yours, not trying to stop you, but just trying to be grounded.

“What if it’s not going to be okay?” he asks quietly, his face buried in a pillow. “What if I’m just built wrong, if it’s just always going to hurt when you try to fuck me?”

“Then we’ll figure out something to do that doesn’t involve penetrating your pussy. It’s not that hard, baby.”

“You would do that for me?”

“Of course, don’t be ridiculous. I’m not going to leave you just because I can’t fuck your cunt.”

“Really?” he asks, choked, trying for sarcasm, but failing badly, a raw edge in his voice.

you would just switch to eating him out, but he seems pretty hung up on the inability to take you in, but from how easy it was to fit your fingers into him, how he seemed to enjoy it, you’re pretty sure the issue is psychological. So you stroke his clit, squeeze his breasts and kiss at the side of his jaw. You can feel his entrance involuntarily pulsing open and you push the head of your cock into him, feeling him stretching wider. He turns his head to you in alarm, but you catch his mouth in a kiss, keep caressing his body and slowly moving deeper into him. His fingers move from your wrists to intertwine with your hands, and when you squeeze back, he comes so quickly in your arms, before your cock is even fully sheathed inside of him.

You hold him through the orgasm, then slide out of him, but then he turns in your arms, until he’s under you, he’s looking up at you, instead of being held.

“I want more,” he breathes out, hot and heavy, and before you can think of the answer, he pulls his clothes open, opening his bra and revealing his chest, and then tugs his skirt and soaked panties down. He lies under you, both trembling and determined, his breath fast and nervous for exposing himself to you after trusting you won’t be disgusted with him, that you’’ll *want him*.

“You’re so beautiful,” you run your eyes over him and kiss him, hard, and he presses himself against you, kisses you back with desperate abandon, but still when you break away from each other, he asks, his voice small. “Really?”

In response, you pepper him with hungry kisses, from the neck down the chest, ribs, stomach until you cover his swollen pink pussy with your mouth, while he’s leaking sweetly under your lips. When he comes, and he comes quickly, moaning loudly, you pull him close and kiss his lips with the taste of his own arousal.

“Really,” you tell him softly, while he’s blushing, soft and squirming against you. He shoots you a wry little look that you already came to associate with trouble coming, and says, trying to sound superior, but failing because of mischievous little smiles breaking his act

“So you like this body? That’s so degenerate of you, who would even like something so ugly and…”

He yelps and shuts up when you forcefully turn him over to lay on his stomach and slap his ass, but he looks pleased afterwards.

“There are much better ways to get spanked, you little brat.”

He arches his back, popping up his ass and spreading his thighs to show off his wet flushed pussy, entrance pulsing up open for you. Then he looks at you over the shoulder, eyes glinting in excitement, and sticks out his pink little tongue at you.

“Oh really?”

#rhine writes #rhine writes filth #sub genshin #genshin smut #genshin impact smut #sub scaramouche #sub wanderer #scaramouche

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finalgilmoregirl · 6 months

Text

☆ random thoughts about what i think being in a relationship with mike would be like :

a/n : no gender specified, no y/n + no mentions of the actual movie plot

he’s actually pretty quick to open up after the first couple of dates. i think he would want you to know his situation as soon as possible and understand what you might be getting yourself into if the relationship has any chance of becoming long term.

he also does it for abby’s sake, he doesn’t want you to meet her and accidentally say the wrong thing, or be surprised by their situation so much that you get scared off, leaving poor abby confused.

likes watching horror movies, but only over the top, borderline goofy ones (i.e. nightmare on elm street, child’s play, gremlins, signs). he gets fidgety and even anxious during any where the antagonist is human, some might hit a bit too close to home.

cheesy low budget slashers have a pass. the acting is bad enough and the plot is predictable enough to keep him entertained but not lead him to spiral. those and again, goofy ones are when he pulls out the “here, i’ll protect you” move about fifteen minutes in, of course just wanting an excuse to hold you.

he’s the worst at grocery shopping. he always goes when he’s hungry which leads to too many snacks and frozen meals. and as much as you love the convenience, you know he and abby can’t live like this. which leads to you pushing the cart around while he holds the list you made and grumbles things like “when are we even going to eat rice?” and “i don’t need all of these vegetables, they’re just going to go bad.”

in the end, he’s grateful. and abby is too now that you introduced them to the world of easy to make side dishes.

stealing his clothes duh!! he could groan about how he’d been looking for that hoodie or his sweatpants and sometimes even socks (yes even the ones with the holes in them) but at the end of the day he’ll allow it because he loves the way his clothes look on you, and you love smelling like him.

like i mentioned earlier, he lives for touch. it’s something he didn’t know he was missing until he met you. then it’s all he wants when he’s around you. it can be you running a hand through his hair, or him pulling your back into his chest with an arm around your shoulder.

he loves forehead touching. he loves it when you do it as a way to cheer him up, making a silly face, causing him to pull away and giggle into your neck. he loves it on late nights where he’s just woken up from another bad dream and you do it to calm him down, allowing him to match his breath with yours. he loves it after a moment of passion, and as he stares into your eyes all he sees staring back is pure adoration. it’s the intimacy in the close proximity that he never gets tired of.

he has a temper but it’s hard to blame him. it comes from a place of anxiety, where any high stress situation causes a fight or flight response in him. he hates it about himself, and even after you forgive him after an argument for snapping at you or abby or for shutting you out at a time when he shouldn’t, he still kicks himself for it.

abby usually taking your side in debates just to spite her brother. even if its about something she has no knowledge about, you're in the right! which usually leads to mike jokingly mumbling about how much she likes you more than him.

finally, date nights!!! and as much as mike likes the idea of going out for drinks or for dinner and a movie, he and his wallet favor a more intimate night in at his home. these kinds of dates are few and far between, since its hard for mike to find someone he trusts enough to send abby away with. but on the rare chance that she gets invited to a friends slumber party just a block over, he takes it and spends the night drinking and laughing with you over a plate of your guys' favorite take out orders.

-----------------------------

hope you enjoyed! ☆ requests are open btw

#mike schmidt x reader #mike schmidt fluff #kelly : mike thoughts 💭

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sashi-ya · 6 months

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𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐊𝐓𝐎𝐁𝐄𝐑 𝟐𝟑 DAY 28: FLESHLIGHT adult! Ichigo x F! Reader x adult! Uryu

requested by: anon ➡ would you write a fic for day 28 with Uryu and Ichigo and a afab! reader? thanks! wc: mdni. ichigo and uryu are adults. threesome. using reader as "a fleshlight". DP. some homoerotic action, but very subtle (you can think what you want), oral, creampie implied. wc: 1,7k masterlist.

Drunk, but not with alcohol. Lovers, haters… enemies, brothers.

The gathering had concluded. Their friends have taken their leaves. And the last one to abandon Ichigo’s house, was, of course, Uryu.

The tangerine haired young man plays on his bed, with some particular gaming console. He bounces his right foot, as he do… unaware of the blue haze that’s about to struck him.

“Kurosaki!” he screams, snatching his Switch from his hands. Ishida, a young soon to become doctor, forces Ichigo to stand up all of a sudden from his bed.

“What the fuck? Give it back, it’s not mine!” Ichigo protests, trying to reach for the console.

Uryu puts it down the desk as well as his glasses, and immediately after pounces on his friend.

“I told you once and a thousand times to stop flirting with (Name). I fucking hate you” Uryu grunts, trying to hit his friend but getting his fists stopped by Ichigo’s quick reaction.

As the ginger boy holds the onyx haired one’s wrists, he tries to understand what was exactly happening.

Uryu seems to have tears on his eyes. After all that happened, after the emotional spiral that they both had to face when younger, this felt to the Quincy like the worst of treacheries.

“Stop. STOP ISHIDA. I haven’t been flirting with her! I am not into (Name), why are you- STOP!” Ichigo tries to inject some reason into Uryu’s mind -even if he lies-. But the Quincy looks now more like a rabid cat than a man.

“I am tired of your shit… I am- why? Why would you… I saw you hugging her, I saw her sitting on your lap tonight…” Uryu mumbles, finally falling over his friend chest. He has ran out of strength, and the depression wins against confrontation.

Ichigo sighs. He, for sure, didn’t realize how bad his actions could hurt his friend. He proceeds to place his hand on Uryu’s not so wide back and lets him calm down with the safe embrace of someone he used to hate but loves as a brother.

“It wasn’t at all my intention. I’m sorry” Ichigo whispers.

Uryu clenching to his friend’s white shirt, stays carving his nose into Ichigo’s chest.

“I know…” he murmurs, almost like a little kid.

“Ichigo I think I forgot my – oh-“ you stop yourself right by the entrance of the substitute Shinigami’s door.

Truth is, you weren’t expecting to interrupt such an intimate moment. But it certainly startled you… while it was expected for them to love each other like brothers, sharing a bed in such conditions caught you by surprise.

Immediately after, they both separate and start stuttering to explain you something. You, on your side, don’t really need much explanation… though it was a little disappointing in a way that they were together; after all, you were actually struggling because you seem to like both.

“It’s ok guys! I am not telling anyone unless you say so! I am happy for you two. I think I forgot my Nintendo switch in here, but I will text you tomorrow!” you quickly say, trying to go away as soon as possible… as much as you liked both, and the scenario represented a pleasant homoerotic imagery, you weren’t invited to their “after party”

Ichigo pushes Ishida to the side, and fast enough stops you from walking. His strong hand around your wrist, makes you internally shiver.

“Listen, you are getting it all wrong! We weren’t doing that. We were just fighting!” he tries to explain, a little too desperate for you to believe in him.

You look at him, up and down. Ichigo looks visibly troubled, his breathing accelerated, and his hand clenching to you intensifies.

Soon, he is not the only one trying to stop you from leaving… and maybe, also trying to move Ichigo away.

“(Name)! I am not into men! Much less Kurosaki… I… In fact, I…” Uryu stutters and closes his beautiful deep blue eyes for some seconds before continuing. “In fact, I am into you. I want you. We were having a discussion because of you!”

Ichigo and you widen your eyes; despite his friend knowing, it was still a big deal for Ishida to finally confess in such way.

You take some time to even react, however your eyes fix into his with shining stars.

“Uryu I… I…” you try to think for the right words; you like him, but you like Ichigo as well… and he hasn’t let you go, either.

All of a sudden, the sweet voice of Ichigo breaks the silence. While being pulled to your left by Ishida, you are being pulled by him to the right.

“(Name), I like you too!” he confesses. Leaving you all doubly perplexed. “Chose one of us, the other will back up”

Ishida, who instantly realizes he wasn’t wrong, decides to focus on you before attacking Ichigo for lying to him. While Ichigo, looks away with a slight blush on his cheeks you haven’t seen before.

A wild idea comes to your mind… why choosing, if you can have both?

“I won’t chose” you speak. They both look at you defeated. “Share me” you purr. They both let your wrists go. “I want to be used by both of you” you finish.

And with no mediation, you are surrounded by two needy creatures; both driven by desire. Apparently lust can help the differences set in between two men in a blink of an eye.

You receive kisses on each side of your neck, their playful noses inhaling the scent of your skin and sometimes their fingers even meeting as they slide on your belly.

Slowly, but surely, your clothes end up on the floor and in between kissing, biting, and moaning you fall into Ichigo’s bed.

The Quincy(ies) and Shinigami gloat to see your legs falling a little spread, your arms behind to help your back remain a little erect and the bouncing of your breasts.

“I am going first” Ichigo grunts. “No fucking way, I am going first” Uryu growls. “Didn’t I tell you I wanted for you to share me while you use me?” you moan, spreading your legs wide open to flash them with the very tempting entrance to heaven.

Ichigo and Uryu look each other, and run to you with no hesitation. Both jumped in the bed, with Ishida in between your legs and Ichigo kneeling right next to your face.

While the dark haired one fingers your entrance and uses his tongue to trace circles around your clit, you choke with the dripping merciless sex of Ichigo.

“Use her like a fleshlight” Ichigo claims in between panting, as his dick reached the back of your throat, and you gag.

Ishida stops, leaving his lips posed on your femineity as he looks at Ichigo with eyes on fire. He is probably questioning Ichigo for those words, that indeed don’t sound like him at all.

You stop the oral delight, and with lips still shiny from Ichigo’s precum you moan; “Please… let me be your fleshlight, Ishida-kun ~”

Uryu closes his eyes and sighs loudly; his breathe cools the juices of your cunt and you squirm. He then proceeds to stand up and opens his shirt, while his pants fall to the ground and are sent flying to the other side of Ichigo’s room.

The Quincy looks at you, with his dick in his hand. You are so glad to finally discover what’s beneath that particular clothes of his. His delicate hand lifts his shirt just above his belly, exposing soft marked abs over pale skin.

He then, as he kneels back in between your legs, wipes the little drops of sweat on his forehead moving his black bangs to the side.

“A fleshlight you said? Like a piece of silicone? Is that what you wanna be for me, (Name)?” he asks, serious than ever, with trembling lips of desire and want.

“Ye-yes, like your beautiful little doll to fuck, Ishida-kun” you purr, and feel how Ichigo’s fingers bury, pinching your cheeks.

“God, (Name)… how can you be that much of a slut?” he asks, pumping his dick, with the veins of his hand protruding visibly.

You smirk at him, with puppy eyes and sticking your tongue out. You are ready to receive his load on it, as well as Ishida’s sex penetrating you really good.

And it’s actually even better than what you were expecting; Ishida’s hands slide down your waist to the small of your back to lift your hips up. You can feel his hardness entering you, stretching your walls, going deeper the more he bucks your hips up… because he knows exactly how to make you moan.

“Ah… fuck…” you swear, as cumming has became an imminent happening. “Are you cuming, mh? Are Ishida’s thrusts that good, baby?” Ichigo asks, on the verge of bathing you with his seed. “Bet both dicks inside of you will feel amazing, mh?”

You turn your eyes white, imagining to be double penetrated by them had to be the last push for you to jump into the abyss of climax.

You feel the warmth blessing of the Strawberry Shinigami on your mouth, overflowing the limits of your lips and running through your cheeks, neck, chest, breasts.

You taste the salty product, and even choke with it. Uryu’s rams are violent, so improper, so out of character of what he might look like he could do… they are literally merciless; he is using your cunt as a real fleshlight.

You tremble, every muscle in your body spasms, and orgasm hits you like never before. You grip to the sheets, but regardless you cuming, Uryu keeps fucking you.

“Ishida, lay back, let’s fuck her together” Ichigo suggests -orders-; Uryu obeys, fighting on the verge of climax won’t do for him.

As his back hit the bed, Ichigo manages to crawl behind you and lifts you up from your arms. You, still cumming, almost losing conscious from overstimulation are now on top of Uryu -whose hips haven’t stopped fucking you yet-

“Now, bend a little over him (Name)” Ichigo helps you, while your arms have reached his nape from behind.

A single hand is enough for him to guide his dick inside you, shamelessly grazing his friend’s.

“Kurosaki…” Uryu grunts, staying still just enough for his shinigami friend to fit inside.

“Ishida- not now” he grunts, moving you back to the previous position. Both, inside of you, now feels like exploding your overstimulated womb. A womb asking to be blessed by more than one race…

“Guys… please, don’t stop ~” “No worries, (Name)… you are just like our favourite toy”

taglist: @miabiaria @carmenthedreamer @stygianoir @electronicwitchcollection @aizenwifey @deputy-videogamer @efrodd17 @mizugami @uzxotic @cyberdazetragedy @bookandyarndragon @fushiguroshotwife💖

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dollypopup · 2 months

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listen. . .words TRULY cannot explain how vindicated i am feeling in the fandom after all these interviews and snippets

do you even KNOW how much hate I got for writing Come Over Here and Profound for Me? where Penelope was guilt spiraling over all she did as LW? and people accused me of being a 'psychopath' and needing therapy (as if being in therapy is a. . .bad thing?) and being oh so unfair to Penelope because she was beating herself up a lot and her friends were hurt and betrayed?

and then we got the clip of her talking down to herself, about how embarrassing she is and how no one wants her and 'of course you wouldn't want to court me' and how sad he was about how lowly she sees herself.

how absolutely baffled I was over the narrative that every new male character would be a suitor for her? how little sense it made and how Penelope was for us unseen girlies and her being a diamond would be weird and ooc and unfulfilling?

and then it was revealed that Dankworth is Prudence's husband, and that Anderson is a hit with the older ladies, hinting he's there for Violet (as a continuation of her Queen Charlotte storyline) and that Debling is in a grand total of two episodes and that even Adjoa Andoh said the season was for the wallflowers.

how confused i was over monolithic 'Penelope is a girlboss and never did anything wrong!' narratives that happened over and over in our fandom and that Colin would grovel and beg and cry to be in Penelope's good graces again over one comment?

and then the clip came out and the person she was actually dragging was herself and the worst thing she called him was 'cruel' and just about one day later she's staring into his eyes and telling him how beautiful they are and how they shine when he's kind

how peeps insisted he'd be just fine when the truth comes out that Penelope is Lady Whistledown and that he'd find her clever or already knows or wouldn't be upset at all?

LINK

Interviewer: 'How do you think Colin would react if he found out she's LW?' LN: 'He would react. . .worst out of everyone in the ton' NC: 'She slagged off a LOT of people! I'm like 'Girl, you should be worried!' LN: 'He's also a sensitive boy! We'll see, I'm sure'

i'm not gonna name names. . .but some of y'all owe a LOT of people in this fandom a LOT of apologies

#polin #bridgerton #nicola coughlan #luke newton #maybe this is premature but like. . .sorry not sorry #a lot of the very popular polin takes and predictions for S3 are aging like MILK #and i am gleefully clapping my hands about it #i mean this with my whole chest: some of y'all were straight up nasty to us #and even nastier to colin as a character!!!!!#you were AWFUL to so many people #for DARING to go against the status quo narrative #and i am so glad that the fandom revenge power fantasy is coming out to be wrong #this fandom owes us colin girlies a hell of an apology #prepare to be sick of me

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bronx-bomber87 · 28 days

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Hello my wonderful fandom :) Thank you for all your lovely comments on me being delayed. Not my usual M.O. but I definitely needed the extra time to process. I was GUTTED and absolutely wrecked. Poor D had to deal with my panic spiral for most of Wednesday. (love you lol) I'll be honest I'm still little shook up and sad. Kinda grateful for the 3 week break tbh between episodes. This was a gut punch I wasn't in the least expecting. Hoping we'll get a S7 announcement during this hiatus. *fingers crossed* Get it together ABC. This took me awhile to unpack emotionally so thank you all again for being so patient.

So I want to preface this post. There will be ZERO And I mean ZERO bashing of Tim in this review from me. Would appreciate that in comments as well. I love conversation you know I love comments. What I don't like is hate being spread. Also nothing on Eric either. I've also seen this which is utter madness. Don't touch our captain. Man loves this fandom so much. Deserves respect. If you came to this review for either of those things please promptly exit stage left. I mean that in the kindest way possible but I love Tim/Eric so it's a non starter with me.

I’ve never so deeply related with a character in all my life as I have with Tim Bradford. I’ll be dissecting this ep to best of my ability. I love both these characters so very much. Why I was knocked out for a couple days before could tackle this. I imagine my thoughts will change when I do my summer in depth one. When we have the rest of the season in pocket. I have to say this won't be mini at all. LOL So lets get rid of that concept right now ha I can't be mini with this ep. I am not brief so thanks for reading. Also hats off to Eric my god he was incredible in this episode. Melissa too killing me left, right and center you two. Let us get started.

6x06 Secret and Lies.

Poor Lucy looks like me when I’m stressed and drained af. Tamara asking how stressed she currently is? Lucy answering 19.....She looks like a 19 if not worse tbh. This is probably the most time they've spent apart since they got together. Basically living together at this point let's be honest. Other than 6x01 they haven't really spent time apart aside from that UC op in 5x21. *sigh*

Tamara asking if Tim is still ghosting her? Lucy trying so hard to keep it together with her answer. My heart. What a wreck she is without Tim. Do love that we get to see her pin-up board btw. Good shot of her room we don’t usually get. That cupcake poster I love it so much. Although now it makes me sad...

Lucy asking what's wrong? Tamara telling her she wants to move out with some friends from school. Crap. Her moving is the last thing she needs…. But it's good for her even though the idea makes me sad. End of an era. Lucy is right she needs to live with people her own age. Doesn’t make it hurt less though. This is a ROUGH season for Lucy my god. The hits keep coming for our girl and I wanna hug her. Shield her somehow....

Lucy touching near her tattoo when she reaches Angela. (Mini gut punch.) I do love her coming to Angela about this. If there is anyone who knows Tim like she does it's Angela. Does help she finds his behavior alarming too. I mean of course she does. You can see the immediate worry. The empathy she has for Lucy is there but she holds her cards close in her advice. Telling her to trust him even though it's literally killing her. Not the council Lucy needed to hear or was looking for.

Lucy wanted more action than 'Just wait and trust him.' She has been trusting him but she’s so insanely worried. Going out of her mind with anxiety for her person. It's exuding out of of her and she looks like she wants to cry…Ugh me too Lucy. I’m an empath and an anxious one at that. I would be going out of my mind too…. Angela looks worried as hell though. Even though she isn't conveying that to Lucy at this point. Breaking my heart as she takes off from their convo. Because if she doesn't she'll lose it right then and there.

God I love Angela Lopez. First off well done on tracking him down. She's just a bad ass. I mean it's one of the reason's Lucy reached out to her tbh. Just gets into his car, drinking his soda, calling him out right away. I love her reasoning saying she can live off Wesley’s trust fund. Lmao. Doesn’t matter as much if she get's fired. 'Wine o'clock.' for her. Gotta love the confidence. I truly hope we get more Tim/Angela scenes the rest of this season. I always adore their dynamic.

Tim is sold on her reasoning and starts to explain the current situation he's trapped in. Angela taking it all in and assessing everything as he explains. Once Tim has succinctly summed up his current predicament Angela's reply is the best. 'I’m in.' lmao I love this woman. ‘I got your back boo.’ That she does. In more ways than he even realizes at this point.

Gotta commend Angela calling him out for walking away from Lucy. Not only that but his job to arrest a guy hasn’t thought of in a decade…. Ain’t no one better than her to be there to call him out his crap right now. Not only that but to really dig deep. To know this is far more than what he's sharing. This is why Angela is an incredible detective rooting things out like this. Saying this is more than just protecting Lucy. Her intuition is out of this world.

I mean she's not wrong. Lucy would understand if it was just about the benefits. She would be proud really. Thing is it's about protecting himself too. Which really just scratches the surface of why he is doing this. Tim knows he's caught even if he shrugs it off. She has him dead to rights and he knows it. 'I’m your BFF. I know you.' Ha it’s true whether you like it or not Timothy…Just like Lucy she has your number.

Angela giving him crap with how they're following Ray. Worried he isn't being smart about this. This is so unlike him to be this sloppy and unfocused. She was right he was tailing too close… Ray catches on to their tail quickly. When he scanned the vehicle made me so nervous. Doing it while he's taunting Tim. He's so detail oriented blows my mind Tim let that get by him. This SL gave me such MASSIVE anxiety as I watched it. Oh my lord.

The minute they get back to Angela's place she calls him out once again. Asking why he thinks this is ALL his fault? Tim shrugs it off and she refuses to take that as his final answer. Of course Angela was right there is far more to this story. Tim finally opens up to her about what happened. He had been leading his squadron for some time. Looking to move up to Sergeant.

The catch was he couldn’t be promoted if there was rampant criminality in his unit. Ray clearly was in the way of him moving up. Tim figured he could keep it within his unit if they went after him.. Oh Tim…. It was an unsanctioned mission too. Thinking if he could accomplish this would be easy fast track to his promotion.

Kills me to know he was there during the air strike ugh… Details missing from the last episode. The Humvee saved him and Mark but not his other men… I can't imagine what Tim felt in that moment. The immense amount of guilt laid on his soul from here on out. I mean it makes sense why he never left patrol before Lucy. The last time he tried to advance his career this happened. My broken boy.

Eric CRUSHES this scene. I wanna cry. My poor Timothy. He was more focused more on his career than his oath...Got two of his men killed. My damn heart. He’s so ashamed of himself. The way he points at himself when he says 'leadership.' I knew his military past would be dark but holy crap. I wanted more of his backstory and they delivered that in spades. What a gut punch this had to be for him. No doubt his men were loyal af to him. Would've followed him anywhere and did.

He carries leading those men to their deaths because they followed his leadership. Oof. That is quite the weight to keep on your soul. Also gives us insight to why he shoulders everything. Even when he doesn't have to. Punishing himself for past transgressions such as this. I'm sure when we get to the other side of this season, I will have an even deeper respect for the writers going into his backstory like this. Giving us even more insight to this man.

This hurts so good to get this kind of info. I have no doubt that’s why he shut Lucy out. The shame he feels is overwhelming. I totally get it. Nothing scarier than someone knowing your darkest secrets. Not only that but worrying they’ll think less of you due to it. Tim already struggles with self loathing. Been a theme for him his entire arc on this series. Something I've touched on a lot. This is truly bringing that to light in the most painful way.

We see Ray scanned Tim's car in order to gain access to it. To check his GPS to see where he's been. How he's been tracking him. When he scrolls down to Lucy's address. Made my stomach sink. Legit felt sick to my stomach....

I do love Lucy coming home and having Tamara there. Saying she ordered pizza for them. This is exactly what she needs. Do you really have to go Tamara? I wonder if she'll delay leaving now after this ep. There is a knock at the door and of course it's not the pizza. It's Ray. Hair's on the back of my neck stood up from the moment he entered that apt.

I know Melissa stated in her interview she was nervous about this scene. That she came off awkward in her anger. You are incorrect madam. Holy hell Lucy is a BAMF. Telling him the only call she's gonna make is for the ambulance. Because when she's done with him he's going to need it to wheel him out. Holds her ground like the confident bad ass we've all loved seeing her become.

Lucy calling him shaking and demanding where he was. Ooh lord hell fire coming with her through that front door. I love Angela grabbing Tamara to another room. Like let's go mom and dad are about to have a big blow out. Let's give them some space...

Tim asking if she's ok? Truly concerned but Lucy isn't having ANY of it. 'Do I look ok?' Damn no she doesn't....Ripping into him saying how that creep could've showed up when she wasn't there. Lucy is not wrong....Oh my lord I’ve never seen her so damn mad. She is RAGING at him and rightfully so. Her home was violated, Tamara was put in danger and threatened. All because Tim was trying to protect her. phew.

Tim FINALLY concedes to telling her something. It only seems to enrage her more. She is literally vibrating with anger in this scene with him. The more he tells her the more it doesn't explain why he left her in the dark. Lucy begging him to read her in. I mean she has earned that my love. ..Telling him to stop protecting her. Gah Tim is a deep loyalist who would protect anyone he loves even if it's not the right thing. His reply is a reflection of that.

'I can't. I won't.' He's so driven to keep her safe. His instinct is to protect her but doesn't see he's hurting her in the process. I knew she was going to be pissed he let Angela in and not her. But Tim was right she has a lot less to lose. Which doesn't seem pertinent in this moment...I do love her placing her hands on his when she also replies. 'I can't. I won't.'

Mirroring his words from moments ago. Just like he will never stop protecting her. Lucy will never stop fighting for him or longing to help him. That man is her entire world. The most important person in her life. It makes perfect sense she would help with this. Career be damned. I mean she risked her career to get him a shot at Metro. Of course she would do the same thing in order to shoulder his burden with him.

Love her standing her ground in this moment. Like damnit I love you and you are going to let me in. Whether you like it or not I am here and I'm going to help. If this wasn't a reflection of the communication problems that still painfully exist between them I don't know what is. I mean she tried to be patient and trust him. But honestly he needed this kick in the ass to let her in. Which is a problem. Lucy needs to be the first person he goes to. It shouldn't have to come to this. *sigh*

Their OP goes off without a hitch. Except Ray saying he was going to be an air strike on Tim's life.... God I had no idea as I was watching that scene how true it would be. Tim gets his interview and lies to protect Angela and Lucy. While keeping his own job intact as well. Also welcome back to Jackson’s dad. Hello there Percy. This is not how I wanted to see him again.

But he is IA him returning was never gonna be a good thing tbh in a post Jackson world. Regardless it was nice to see him again. The scene is Grey's office is ROUGH. Never seen Wade so disappointed in Tim. It hurts to watch. Just like this entire gut punch of an episode. Tim is just standing there in utter shame of everything. Ashamed Wade is looking at him like this.

Kills me Grey has to inform Pine of what he did. It makes sense he has to but damn that sucks. The amount of respect Tim has for Wade is immense. To watch him tear Tim apart and just stand there like a puppy being scolded hurts my soul. Especially when he tries to fight Pine knowing. Just dismissing him without further comment or argument...

So I will say this and it's not at all fair to Lucy that I thought this I'm sure. But I felt like if there was gonna be a breakup it would be coming from her. Not Tim in this moment. That's the part of this moment that really knocked the wind out of me. She had every damn right to be the one too btw. Instead she is there waiting for him with open arms. Honestly I took a breath for the first time this entire episode when she welcomed him in.

Wrapping him up in her arms. Encasing him, rubbing his back, her fingers in his hair. Gently cradling him against her. I thought ok maybe we'll be alright. Since Lucy isn't nearly as angry as she was earlier. Maybe they can get through this together. Cause she loved on him regardless of what happened. The unconditional love she has for this man blows me away. I honestly thought with her loving on him maybe they'd make it out. That they’d work through it together.

Tim looks so very defeated. On the verge of an actual breakdown as he explains that he lied about everything. Saying it saved his job...protected Angela and her. It doesn't seem like enough of a win to him. He looks so very destroyed and this is just the beginning of his downward spiral.

Lucy is doing everything to be his rock in this moment. To assuage him of his guilt… Most vulnerable ever seen Tim *pre tears*…. Lucy telling him it was an impossible situation. She would've done the same thing. It’s so very clear she was willing to work through this. To build them back to where they were before he got that phone call. Everything Lucy was in this scene represented her unconditional love for him. Tim is just too destroyed at the moment to see it….Also for him to accept it. It's so hard to truly accept unconditional love if you've never had it before. To truly trust in it.

Lucy is watching him spiral out of control. The way he's talking about himself with such loathing. How she never would've been in a place where she put her self interest over her team like him. She is trying her damndest to right his wrong. But Tim is having none of it. It pains me to see it... Pains Lucy too. It's the way she grabs onto him while he continues his verbal self flogging that get's me.

Trying to ground him in this moment with her touch. Bring him back to her. Something that has worked so well in the past. Sadly not having the intended affect this time around. Tim is too damn gone at this point. He feels he’s betrayed everything he thought he was. THOUGHT he was. *heart clutch* Tim has such a deep moral compass. That's why this is rocking him so very much. Ugh my heart. I too have a crazy deep moral compass. I can't say I wouldn't be spiraling out like him as well.

This was his greatest sin brought to light. To Tim exposing him for the fraud he feels he is. Him saying he's been lying to himself for a long time is a reflection of this. That imposter syndrome coming out real strong here. Something he buried deep down came rushing to the forefront and he is imploding. Says as much above. He no longer feels worthy to be in her life now. I get this anytime I screw up with a friend or my sister. I have this deep sense of shame attached to it. Like I no longer deserve that friend or my sister cause I messed up or if a past sin comes up. That they'll no longer love me or will forever look at me differently cause of it.

It's not logical but it's deeply ingrained from my mom shaming me for doing anything wrong growing up. As it is for Tim. His father literally beat the hell out of him for ever being out of line. He has suffered emotional and physical abuse. Unless confronted and treated comes out like this. Demons making their way to the surface. I was bawling by the time he said 'I'm sorry.' He’s never seen himself worthy of Lucy’s love that much has always been evident. But to see it this raw and visceral ripped my heart out. It’s on the ground where they're both standing.

I think this is something that has been brewing in the background for Tim for a long time. Now that I've had time away to decompress and think. I'm actually very excited they're tackling this. It's clear Tim is not in a place where he thinks he deserves her anymore. Low key never has been. He acts before he thinks. Eric had a great quote from his interview about Tim "He is impulsive and he reacts instead of thinking things through, and it can come out a bit too strong.” That is this decision in a nutshell. He feels he is a burden therefore he is removing himself without thinking it through. The regret that is going to come with this is going to be immense for him.

'You deserve so much better.' Better than me basically. He feels immense shame and that shame is launching him away from her. You know I learned something in therapy about this. About not being perfect and feeling like I'm too much. i.e. a burden. My therapist told me and it made me cry. 'You are worthy of the space you take up in people's lives. They want you there.' Tim does not think he is worthy of the space he is taking up in Lucy's life now. All his sins on the table laid out for her to see. He can't handle it. That much is very clear here. I will say I haven’t let a ship hurt me like this in a long time.

This absolutely crushed me. I couldn't even fathom assembling my thoughts. Cut me very deep. Been with this ship since day one. Also what a crushing blow this is for Lucy. Our poor girl. I mean she gave everything to this relationship. I mean EVERYTHING. She was all in from the moment Tim said ‘Unless it is.’ This was her first real relationship. First real leap into being serious. Thinking about marriage and kids. She gave her all to Tim my god. Her career took a hit for him and she never complained. Knew he was worth it (he still is btw) Fought every step of the way for him. For them.

When he was pulling back above it was an absolute panic for her. She could see him slipping through her fingers. Idk what broke my heart more Tim thinking he’s not worthy of her any longer or her begging him not to do this. She literally can't fathom how he can let go of her like this. Thought she was his person. Tim feels he’s gone back to who he was pre-Lucy and that scares him. He feels undeserving of the love she has to give him. Lucy knows everything and in his mind he can’t imagine her still loving him.

Lucy was as we all were in this scene. In disbelief... Even though Tim put her though absolute hell she was still there to comfort and support him. Because to her he is worth it even in the hard times. We all know Tim isn’t the best with his emotions. In his trauma damaged brain he thinks he’s doing the right thing here. That he’s radioactive, she deserves better than being around him and his reckless behavior.

The kiss on her head. Lucy trying to physically push away his rejection. Stomping all over my damn heart...However this ends up playing out Tim is going to have to address his emotional instability. How he charges forward and doesn’t think things through. Ruled by his emotions in the worst way. He’s impulsive and he’s gonna have to fight to get her back when he’s in a better mindset. Her trust has been obliterated by this. She fought and clawed for them and this was her reward. He’s gonna have to do some serious healing to get back to her. Lucy has loved him the best she can but he needs to put in some work now. We see next ep he's meeting with Aaron's therapist. Don't love that but I’ve wanted Tim to go to therapy for years. He needs this. Therapy doesn’t work unless you put the effort in though.

That will be a challenge for him. When I get out of the purview of this hurt I’m feeling...I’m actually going to be really impressed and happy they had Tim go through this. Do I think this is the end of them? No I think this is some serious growing pains. It was issues that have been percolating since Lucy did that 5 player trade. Hell probably back in 5x12 when Tim sacrificed himself without telling her so they could stay together. I still think that was romantic because of it's intended nature. BUT was the beginning of the communication problems. They’ve grown so very much in that regard. We’ve seen it but there is still work to be done on that front. It just came to a very gutting painful head.

I still have faith in the writers. I still have faith they’ll be ok. It might not be right away and I'm already feeling impatient tbh. But this is some serious realism being applied to them. It wasn't some random BS angst. Honestly we’re lucky our ship gets the most attention, the best SL’s and two people who LOVE these characters. They absolutely adore them and this ship. If you haven’t read Melissa and Eric’s interviews for this episode I highly recommend. This sucks right now. No two ways about it. But we will survive this storm. They’ll come out stronger than ever. Truly believe that. But for now let's rally around each other and get through this together. There will be brighter days ahead just doesn't feel like it right now. We got this.

~~~

Side notes non Chenford.

Do love Aaron working with Harper all if of all I cared about other than their SL in this one. Nolan's I fast forwarded which I normally don't do but I had no patience for his BS in this ep lol My anxiety was rampant in this ep and had no space for him.

Also RIP Metro Tim for the 6x07 promo. This hurts to see not just cause I enjoyed him in that outfit lol But to see his career take a nosedive like this. I wanted more Tim back story. Didn’t think would hurt like this though....Feel free to comment I love you all for any interaction I get with these. <3

#Caitlin mini reviews #chenford #s6 #the rookie 6x06 #6x06 Secret and Lies #otp: unless it is #otp: doing my job #the rookie #tim x lucy #tim bradford #lucy chen #lucy x tim #eric winter #melissa o'neil #tim bradford x lucy chen

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galatially · 4 months

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❝𝐭𝐨𝐮𝐜𝐡 𝐦𝐞 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐧𝐨𝐛𝐨𝐝𝐲 𝐞𝐥𝐬𝐞 𝐝𝐨𝐞𝐬❞

𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 / 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐲𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 / 𝐥𝐢𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐲

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 — 𝐣𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐬 "𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐚𝐧" 𝐡𝐨𝐰𝐥𝐞𝐭𝐭 x 𝐛𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐤!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 — you called and i came, the history between us too broad to ignore; when he showed up on your doorstep five years after he disappeared in the middle of the night, logan howlett decided to clear the air

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 — 5K

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 — 𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐎𝐑𝐒 𝐃𝐍𝐈, 𝟏𝟖+, strong language, exes, angst, smut, soft boi™ logan, exes to tentative lovers

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 — it is time to spread the agenda of logan howlett and his influence on my brain rot for most of my nerdy life. shout out to lizzy mcalpine for making "ceilings" and having me spiral over it for a year!

also also, y'all, i know. i'm horrible at deadlines. but it's what y'all love about me lol

also also first post of 2024!

as always, lovely dividers by @firefly-graphics

Your fingers rubbed moisturizer into his skin, your fingers both light and firm.

“You have so many scars.” He grunted in response. “When you tell me, am I going to have to set a house on fire?”

Logan laughed. “And why would you do that, bubba?”

“To defend your honor, of course.” You laid across his back to whisper in his ear, the warmth of your breath making the hairs on his body erect. “Can’t have you being the hero all the time. My shoulders are strong, too.”

“…listening? Logan? Logan!”

He blinked, his vision focusing on Ororo’s concerned gaze.

“What’d you say?”

A soft smile graced her lips. “I asked where you were going.”

Logan hoisted his duffle bag over his shoulder. “I’ve got some business to attend to.”

Ororo hummed. “Would this have to do with a certain someone that lives in the Canadian mountainside?” He didn’t answer as he threw the bag in the back of his truck. “Do you think that’s the best thing for her right now?”

“I just want to make sure she’s okay, Munroe.”

“And then what?” Ororo crossed her arms. “What are you going to do when you see that she’s fine?”

He threw her a hard glare. “I just want to see her. Is that so fuckin’ wrong?”

Her features softened. “You had another dream about her.”

Logan turned back towards the garage. “What does it matter? I just need to see her, Munroe.”

She held her hands up. “I can’t stop you. I just worry that you’re about to uproot this woman’s life because you can’t let her go.”

He took in a sharp breath. She wasn’t wrong; he’d spent the better part of six years raking himself over the coals at how he ended things. If he allowed them, the memories of you screaming and your brown eyes red and puffy from crying haunted him more than any battle he’d ever been in.

“Look, if you’re so hellbent on going to see her, then go. You’re an adult and you have to live with your decisions.”

He walked around to the driver’s side of his truck. “Tell our fearless leader that I’m goin’ out of town and I’ll be back when I can.”

Ororo nodded and waved, a sad smile on her lips.

He shouldn’t fucking be here.

The second Logan crossed the border, he could think of nothing else but to get to you. Thirty-eight hours and he didn’t sleep for any of them. No, his mind’s eyes played memories of you: how soft your skin was, that fig and jasmine perfume you loved. The silken warmth of your cunt. He fucked his fist like a horny fourteen year old in that dingy hotel in BC. If he focused hard enough, he could get the tone of your voice just right — those breathy, pleading moans that you let out only for him. He could get lost in the memories, pretend that he was beside you in your bed, other people be damned.

But that was thirty-eight hours ago.

Now, here he was. His hands gripped the steering wheel of his truck until his knuckles went white, silently cursing himself for even showing up. He hadn’t seen you in, what? Six years? Who the hell was he to appear on your doorstep after the shit he pulled?

His eyes scanned the forest surrounding your home. He hated that you lived so far away from immediate civilization. It took you thirty minutes to get into the nearest town for work and you essentially lived off the grid. When he’d happened upon your home that fateful October evening, he was amazed that you had a working phone, let alone Wi-Fi. Whenever you crossed his mind, he thought the worst. He used to beg you to get an apartment in the city, but you always refused.

“I’m not ready to let get of this place just yet.” You looked up at him from drawing circles on his bare bicep. “Unless you want to give up city life and live out here with me?”

He didn’t answer; even back then, Logan knew that he was bound to hurt you. His refusal to give you more than idle pleasure was a point of contention for you both. Jean always said that he could be hard to talk to because if he wasn’t picking a fight, he was evading questions. But unlike Jean, you weren’t one to back down. When he’d divert or blatantly ignore your questions, you stood your ground. You didn’t give him the chance to distract you with sudden affection. You wanted to resolve issues as soon as they were made present.

It’s something Logan both loved and hated about you.

“Fuck this.” He groaned, scrubbing a hand down his face. He blew out a determined breath and opened his car door, his feet moving before he changed his mind. As he got closer to the house, he noticed the red “SOLD” sign on the lawn. His chest thrummed with…pain? Remorse? Fear?

What would he do if you left?

He was on your porch now, his heart hammering against his ribcage, fighting to get to you. He raised his hand to knock on the door as it was opening, being met with the face he’d been dreaming about for half a decade.

Your brows were furrowed in confusion. “James.”

His hazy memory didn’t do you justice; your eyes seemed more intense than the last time he’d seen you. You were dressed in an oversized t-shirt — eerily familiar to an old Pink Floyd shirt he thought he’d lost years ago — and shorts barely peeking out from under the hem of the shirt. Your skin smooth and begging to be touched. Your dark coils were thrown into a bun, pieces falling out in various places. You weren’t outwardly upset but you could school your features better than anyone he knew. Your body was half-facing him and half-facing the tiny hall that led to the inside of the house. There was a solemnity to your face that he didn’t recognize.

A voice in the furthest part of his mind whispered that it was because of him.

“Y’know you’re the only person that still calls me James?”

Your features flattened. “What are you doing here?”

“I don’t know.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “I was just passin’ through Edmonton and ended up here .”

“You drove for three days on a whim?”

“I was on my way back from handlin’ somethin’,” he said, the familiar finality in his tone. His gaze went past your shoulders and into the darkness of your home. “Have you eaten yet?”

You blinked. “Not yet.”

He nodded, his blue eyes back on you. “Can I come in? I’ll make you somethin’.”

You should’ve said no. Should’ve slammed the door in his face and went back to packing up the rest of your bedroom. But instead, you moved to the side and let Logan inside. He thanked you and walked inside, toeing off his shoes, and heading back towards the kitchen like he’d been doing it forever.

You looked out at his old, rusted truck one last time before closing the door and going to the kitchen. From the tiny hallway, you could hear him humming to himself; an old song his mother used to sing to him, he’d told you once. He’d put his hair up into a bun at the top of his head, a few strands falling to frame his face. His tan skin, the same skin that had scars that even his mutation couldn’t heal, glowed under the dull glow of your kitchen light. You used to always tell him beautiful he was, but he’d wave you off in that Logan way, telling you that no one was as beautiful as you.

You leaned up against the doorjamb. “Last I heard, you were living in New York. You teach at some fancy school?”

Logan chuckled, mincing up onions and garlic. “I wouldn’t say teach.”

“So, what, you get paid to hang out with fourteen year olds in upstate New York? Sounds kind of sketchy.”

“I teach hand to hand combat,” he glanced over at you, “the kids that I teach it to are like me. Mutants.”

You wrinkled your nose. “I never liked that word; mutants. They make you all sound like failed experiments.”

“Aren’t we?”

“No.” You crossed your arms. “Far from it.”

Logan nodded, more to himself than your declaration, and moved to face the stove. He dumped his vegetables in a small pan to cook. He reached to the left of him — muscle memory, you reasoned — and grabbed a jar of maize. “You’d like it. New York.”

“You think?”

Logan lifted a shoulder. “Be better than livin’ all alone in the mountains.”

You let out a hum. “Guess we’ll find out, won’t we?”

“Where you headed?”

“I don’t know yet,” your eyes dropped to your fidgeting hands, “I didn’t think that I’d be able to sell the house, actually.”

“Why did you? Sell?”

“You know why,” you said, your voice lowered to a whisper. “I held onto it for her and when she died, I didn’t want to stay.”

“‘M sorry I didn’t reach out. Your mother was a remarkable woman.”

You made a bitter sound. “Yeah, well, you’re good at leaving when the wind blows.”

He pursed his lips, turning around to turn off the stove. “You got any plates or bowls left out?”

“James, I —”

“’S fine, Y/N. Bowls?”

You blew out a breath and walked over to the cupboard beside the stove and grabbed two plates, handing them over to Logan. Your knuckles brushed up against his but you kept your eyes on the oak wood of the cupboard.

“Thanks.”

You rushed out a hushed “you’re welcome” and moved back to stand in front of the sink. The air was tense and you had to fight the impulse to pull Logan to you and let him consume you, if only for tonight. You tightened your hands into fists, feeling the bite of your nails as they embossed your skin.

Logan handed you a plate and walked to your tiny kitchen table in the far corner of the room. He sat in his chair: close enough to the back door and facing towards you. Where before it was to smile and regard you with tenderness, now there was unease in his eyes.

You’d forgotten that you didn’t ask what he was making, so the spread in front of you gave you pause: it was your mother’s polenta recipe. “You remembered.” The words came out airy, surprised.

“You’re the last thing that I’d ever forget, bubba.”

“Don’t do this, Logan.” You set your spoon down. “Just…don’t.”

“You’re right. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize, either!” You pinched the bridge of your nose. You pushed your plate away and looked away from your former lover.

What were you doing? He showed up, out of the blue, making you dinner…to do what? The question had been clawing at you the entire visit. Why now? What could Logan possibly want from you after all of these years?

Logan leaned back in the chair, the wood creaking in protest against his broad frame. You kept wanting to speak, break the tense silence, but you couldn’t find the words. Looking at him, he seemed too still. Like a marble statue molded to the chair, anchoring him to this room with you.

“I fucked up, bubba.”

Your brows canted. “What do you mean?”

“That night…the last night that I was here, I said some things that I shouldn’t have. Made promises that I didn’t know if I could keep.” One of his large hands scrubbed down his face, his eyes still on the ceiling. “I told you that I’d leave everythin’ behind to stay.”

Your bottom lip quivered. You remembered; he’d come here that night more impassioned than usual. His hair wind-swept, his cheeks wind-whipped and red, he pulled you in for one of the most passionate kisses you’d ever had in your life. A clash of tongue and teeth against fleshy lips and curves of skin that left you a shaking mess beneath the thin sheets of your bed. You laid in his arms, running your fingers along the lines of his collarbone, when you’d asked if he’d stay. You weren’t begging, didn’t even lower your voice to a low hush to persuade him. You were as direct as you always were, determined to know where you stood in the universe that was Logan Howlett.

“You lied.”

His eyes, darkened with sorrow, finally found yours. “I lied.”

You blinked back tears. “Why? If you knew that you weren’t going to make space for me in your life, why make me believe you would? I uprooted my life for you, Logan! I was going to sell my mother’s house and ride off with you into the sunset! And for what? For you to leave me alone?”

“I couldn’t take you with me then, Y/N. Somethin’…came up.”

“I know, Ororo told me.” Logan shot forward, his eyes wide. “She came and found me two years ago. She said that there was an incident and that you almost died. Said that you kept murmuring my name, telling them to make sure that I was safe.”

He scoffed. “Always meddlin’, that woman.”

“At least she cared enough about you to come find me.”

His jaw tightened. “You’re walkin’ a thin line, bubba.”

“Don’t fucking call me that. You don’t get to call me that anymore, Logan.” You stood up from the table and opened the back door. “Get out.”

“What?”

“Get. Out,” you hissed. “Thank you for making me dinner, but I want you to go.”

Logan crossed his arms, throwing you a hard look. “No.”

Your nostrils flared. “James, get —”

You’d forgotten how fast he was. He was out of the chair and in front of you in an instant, your next retort dying on your tongue. One of his large hands cupped your chin and the other slammed the door shut. His blue eyes roamed your face, searching for something.

Though he towered over you, hell, he overpowered you, you didn’t back down. “I want you to leave.”

“I’m not leavin’. Not until I say what I have to say.”

Your eyes brush along the seams of his lips, lingering, before meeting his smoldering gaze again. “Then say what you need to say and go. I’m done with this.”

Logan’s fingers gripped your chin harder, his gaze hard. “We’re not done talkin’, bubba.” There was an intensity to the nickname as it left his mouth that made your thighs clench together. He leaned in closer, his lips brushing up against yours.

You gripped the sleeve of his flannel, your pulse fluttering in your ears. The hand that had closed the door moved to the small of your back and pushed you into his pelvis. You gasped at his hardened erection against your thigh.

“You can yell at me, you can fuckin’ hit me if you need to.” He rested his forehead against yours. “But don’t tell me to leave. I don’t know where to go if I’m not with you.”

“You haven’t had me in years, James,” you said, roughly. You knew that he caught the desperation in your tone, your words. You tipped your head back and lifted up on tiptoe to press your lips to his. When you finally noticed that he hadn’t returned the kiss, you started to pull back, a pit growing in your stomach.

“I’m —”

His arm tightened around your middle to keep you still. His mouth molded against yours, hungry and desperate.

You pawed at his flannel, helping him shrug out of it. Logan cupped his hands under your thighs and lifted, wrapping your legs around his waist. You sucked a bruise along the curve where his neck and collarbone meet, relishing in the hiss he let out.

“Wait, wait, wait.” He pulled back, his gaze intense. “I need to say this before anythin’ else happens between us.” Your brows creased. “I hurt you. I hurt you and it fuckin’ killed me, Y/N, and I’m sorry.”

Your breath caught. You didn’t know Logan enough to know his favorite color or his mother’s name, but you knew enough about him to know that he didn’t apologize. Didn’t matter if he was wrong or right, he just didn’t. But the man before you wasn’t the man you knew six years ago. Now that you were looking at him, you could see it all: the dark circles, the stiffness of his body that only came from being nervous.

Despite your assertive nature, you didn’t hold grudges. Those types of feelings need to constantly be fed into and that was energy you couldn’t spare. Not even for men that you fell in love with too quickly.

You put your lips to his again. He mirrored your movements and carried you to your bedroom. He sucked a bruise onto the skin between your ear and shoulder, making you let out a whimper. You ground your hips against his hardened erection.

“Fuck, honey,” he hissed.

“I need you inside of me, James.” You nipped at his earlobe. “Please.”

He kissed you, long and hard, before helping you out of your thin shorts. His thick fingers glided through your puffy folds, a guttural groan leaving his throat.

“You this wet for me, Y/N?”

You mewled in response, your hips moving against his digits, begging for pressure on your swollen pearl.

He gulped, his eyes hungrily tracing over your lust-drunken expression. His cock was straining almost painfully against the denim of his jeans but he couldn’t stop staring at you. He drew the pad of his thumb along the curves of your parted lips, sucking a breath when the tip of your tongue barely swept against the skin.

He dipped the digit between your lips, watching with rapt pleasure as you suckled and moaned around it. He groaned and curved his free hand around the base of your throat. “Such a good girl, aren’t ya?”

You shuddered. “I can be.”

“Oh, yeah?” He suckled a love bite onto your skin. “You think you can be mine tonight?”

You nodded eagerly.

Logan chuckled and threw you over his shoulder, taking what seemed like three large steps into your bedroom and tossed you lightly onto the bed. He took hold of your face and slotted his lips over yours, licking deeply into your mouth.

You pawed and pulled at his flannel, clumsily helping him out of it while trying to keep kissing him. He hummed against your lips and worked your thin shorts down your thighs before ripping them down the middle. The cool air against your bare cunt gave you gooseflesh. Your hands moved to work at his belt buckle as his own pulled at the shirt you wore.

“Was wonderin’ where this went.”

You chuckled. “You barely wore it.” You made a triumphant noise upon getting his pants undone and to the floor, looking up at him from beneath your thick, dark lashes.

He wanted to devour you. One of his big paws cupped your face and he ground out, “Are you sure, bubba?”

You took his heavy cock in one of your hands, moving up and down the length of it. You smirked at his sharp breath as you eased down to your knees. Without breaking eye contact, you took him into your mouth, a low groan vibrating against your tongue.

“Jesus,” he gripped your curls into one fist and threw his head back, “just like that, sugar.”

You hollowed your cheeks and took him deeper, the tip of your nose pressing against his pubic mound. The hand that wasn’t giving gentle squeezes to his thigh when to massage his heavy balls.

A low groan, bordering a growl, tumbled past Logan’s lips. “You have to move, baby. ‘M dyin’.”

You moved your hand from his balls to curl around the base of him, slowly working in tandem with your mouth. You moaned around his cock, spit dribbling down the sides of your mouth. You lightly scraped your teeth along the length of him. Logan hissed and gripped the sides of your face and started fucking your face. Your eyes were rimmed red, tears streaming down your face, and yet he looked at you with the reverence reserved for altars and gods.

“‘M cummin’…’m —”

He came in thick ropes into your mouth, his hips stuttering as he was coming down. His hands fell from the sides of your face to rest them on the tops of his thighs.

You pushed off of Logan with a faint “pop” and sat back against your calves. Your eyes trailed up and down Logan’s frame; you’d forgotten how big he was. Broad shoulders and back, large hands, thick, corded muscles. He could sometimes be as foreboding as he looked.

Then, post nut clarity smacked the shit out of you.

“Shit.”

He chuckled. “Yeah, me, too.”

“No. I mean, shit like we shouldn’t have done that.” You pushed yourself onto your feet. “Where’s my shirt?”

“You mean my shirt?”

You ignored his jibe and scanned the room for the garment. One of his hands shot out and pulled you onto his lap.

“I can smell ya, sweetheart.”

Your brows creased for a few seconds before you understood what he’d meant. You gulped, your chest rising and falling in hard pants. “Doesn’t matter, James. This was a mistake.”

His eyes — those intelligent, ever-searching eyes — darkened, a hunger in them that you hated that you missed. “Was it? What’s so wrong about two people findin’ each other again?” His thumb swept along your bottom lip. “‘M all yours to do whatever you need, baby.”

Your tongue darted out, barely pressing against his skin before his mouth claimed yours. He eased you onto your back as his hand traversed the expanse of your torso. His hands pawed and kneaded at your breasts, rubbing and twisting your nipples into stiff peaks. Your back canted towards his touch. His mouth suckled at your right nipple, his other hand still playing at the other.

“James,” you pleaded.

“What, bubba?” He chuckled darkly. “Use your words.”

Every word that flashed in your mind died in your throat. Only incoherent pants and groans left you. Logan switched to your left breast and one of his free hands cupped your mound. Your eyes screwed shut. The rough pad of his thumb brushed up against your clit, sticky with your slick.

“So wet and I’ve barely touched you.”

Your hips bucked and he rubbed the bundle of nerves again. Slow, tortuous swipes that sent shocks to your system and tightened your belly with need. Just before the coil snapped, his cock drove into you. Tears fell from your eyes and a choked gasp ballooned in your chest.

“Fuck, honey, s’good.” Logan’s voice was hoarse and desperate. He fucked into you like a man possessed; his big hands gripped your hips, surely leaving bruises behind. He moved one hand to curl at the base of your throat. Vignettes of memories past played in your mind’s eye and you let out a ragged keen, moving your hips to meet his thrusts. His name passed your lips. “Yeah, baby?”

You gripped one of his forearms. “‘M close.”

Rough skin swept across your clit. “Let go for me, bubba. C’mon.”

Your back canted as a guttural moan ripped from your throat. Logan pulled you into his chest, whispering my good girl and I’m here in your ear as you came down. For a moment, it was like nothing had changed. He’d never left you behind six years ago and this was just another evening for the two of you. Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes and you buried your face into his chest.

“Hey.” He lifted your chin to meet his eyes. “What’s wrong?”

“I hate this,” your voice quivered, “I hate that you came back. I hate that I still — ” You shook your head. “We shouldn’t have done that, James.”

Logan cupped your face in his hands. “What do you want me to do? I’ll do anythin’ you ask me to, Y/N, you have to know that.”

“Do I?”

He pulled out of you and gathered you in his arms as he tucked you both into bed. His deep, even breaths reverberated up your spine. You sat in silence for a few minutes before he spoke again.

“I never meant to hurt you. Hurtin’ you was the last thing that I wanted to do and there’s nothin’ I could do to fix that.” He pressed his lips to the nape of your neck. “Just…talk to me. Please.”

“You broke me, Logan, do you know that? I broke all of my rules for you and it broke me. I was already grieving my mother and you made me grieve you when I never had you to begin with.”

“I know,” he rasped.

“Do you?”

“When Storm came to visit you, she wasn’t jokin’. I almost fuckin’ died.” He ran the backs of his fingers up and down your spine, his tone faraway. “I was slippin’ away, could barely focus on anythin’ in front of me for too long. Then suddenly, your face was the only thing I saw. I could picture you so clearly, down to the micro expressions that I didn’t even realize I’d paid attention to.” He rested his chin atop your head. “I’d made sure that I never thought of you too often or I’d leave everythin’ behind to come back to you.”

“And yet, here you are.” Your voice wobbled at the end. “You broke the one rule you shouldn’t have.”

“Yeah, well, rules are meant to be broken. I don’t regret showing up. Even if this is the only thing I could get, I’d fuckin’ do it all over again just to see you, bubba.”

You turned over to face him, your brown eyes hard. “Yeah, but bodies weren’t, James. You shouldn’t have to nearly die to decide that I’m worth seeing again.”

“You really love half-listenin’, don’t you?” He held your chin between his fingers, lifting your eyes to his. “I haven’t stopped thinkin’ about you since I left, Y/N. The only reason that I didn’t keep in touch was because I was afraid that you wouldn’t want to see me. Like you said, bodies weren’t meant to broken.”

“Neither were hearts,” you murmured.

He nodded. “And would yours consider lettin’ me back in? It’s selfish to ask, I know, but I don’t want to let you go again, bubba.”

You threaded your fingers between his. “I want to. But how will I know if you’ll stay this time, James? What’s changed in the last six years?”

Logan brought the back of your hand up to his lips. The warmth in his eyes, while not unfamiliar, made your breath catch. For a split second, you remembered that he could hear your heartbeat fluttering madly in your chest, your pulse against his forearm.

“When do you leave for New York?”

Your brows knitted together. “I should be done packing in a few days. Why?”

He pulled one of your legs over his hip, laughing when you sucked in a breath. “We’ll go into town tomorrow, pawn all the stuff you’re not usin’ anymore, and pack up the rest in the truck. We’ll make a trip out of it.”

“And where would we go after that? I’m not living in a boarding school.”

“I have a place of my own, thank you very much,” he said, smirking, “it’s not much but it’s mine. It could use a…softer touch, I think.”

You sat up on your elbow. “Yeah?”

“‘M gettin’ old, bubba. Like, obviously not so much physically, but mentally? I’ve seen wars, watched people that I care about die. Walked away when I should’ve stayed.” He threaded his fingers through your free hand. “I’m sayin’ all this to say that, if you’ll have me, I want to stay.”

You hummed, looking down at your joined hands. If tonight proved nothing else, you and Logan were tethered each other for better or worse. There would never be a moment where you wouldn’t think of each other and that scared you. But if you knew nothing else, you knew that you loved him. You loved James Howlett.

“Will you want to stay? I’m not about to uproot my life just for you to leave me again.”

He pulled you close, putting his forehead to yours. “The worst mistake I’ve ever done is leave you behind Y/N Y/L/N. I should’ve told you that I loved you five years ago.” You gasped. “I love you, bubba, and I regret everyday not that I never told you.”

“Say it again.”

He took your face in his hands and smiled, the peach hue of the sun warming his face. “I love you, Y/N Y/L/N. I’ve loved you for the past six years and I will never stop lovin’ you.”

Tears pooled in the corners of your eyes. You wanted him to say these words, waited for them for over half a decade. But they were…heavier than you anticipated. Though your own confession sat on your tongue, too much clung to them; the last fight you had, your mother dying shortly after and how you resented him even more for leaving you alone at a time like that. More than anything you hated that you cared about him so quickly just for him to leave.

“You don’t have to say it back yet.” Logan smiled some. “Five years is a long time to grieve something.”

You put a hand to his cheek. “You know that I want to, though, don’t you?”

“I know,” he kissed you again, “and we’ll get you there. One day at a time.”

𝐞𝐧𝐝 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 — given the fact that i haven't written in literal months, y'all have no idea how happy i am to have churned this out. happy 2024!

#galatially #Annie's1KKittiesWritingChallenge #touch me like nobody else does #logan howlett #logan howlett x black!reader #wolverine #wolverine x black!reader

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4ln-stay8 · 2 months

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Behind closed doors - part II

>summary: Han isn’t too happy to find out what his sister is doing lately

>author’s note: I still don’t know how I feel about it… I also take requests if you have any ideas… I’m also working on some fake texts bits haha …THERE MIGHT BE A PART III

>warning: angst, Han is kind of a dick (Im sorry babygirl) not proof read

>pairing: lee minho x han jisung's sister

Part I

Masterlist

*Y/N'S POV*

It’s been three weeks since your argument with Jisung. Three weeks since you both talked to each other. He didn’t came home after that night due to his busy schedule but he tried and talk to your parents as much as he could. Your mother tried to make you speak to each other but neither of you wanted to reach out first.

On that night your mother asked what happened to her kids after she saw Jisung dropping you off and leave the next second. You told her everything while crying your eyes out and nothing she said could make you stop.

You never thought that your relationship with your brother could fall to the ground all because you fall in love with the wrong man. Don’t get me wrong, you didn’t regret falling for Minho, you didn’t regret anything about him or anything about your relationship with him. Anything besides keeping it a secret from Jisung.

Maybe things would be different if you would’ve told him sooner. Maybe he wouldn’t have hated you so much right now. You were spiralling down the rabbit hole and all you could think of was “what if”.

You barely talked to Minho in the past few weeks, you hated yourself for putting him through this. He had to work and spend every day with his best friend who probably hated him right now, all because of you.

You were way past the whole “it’s not only my fault” part and got straight to the “it’s all my fault” part.

You were miserable to say at least. You hated yourself for being the reason why your brother hated his best friend. You hated yourself for being the reason your brother hated you. You hated yourself for being the reason why your boyfriend was treated poorly by you in those three weeks.

You tried to be a good girlfriend, you tried to be one considering all the bad you’ve caused to him in his other relationships. You tried your best but you just couldn’t look him in the eyes while knowing what he had to go through.

Thats why you asked him to talk, in the small window he actually had. That’s why you showed up at the coffee shop near the JYP building while looking like you were just hit by a meteorite, waiting for your beloved.

- Hi jagi! It’s so nice to see you, I missed you so much! said minho while talking the seat opposite from you - Hi! Uhm…. Can we talk? you asked straight forward not wanting to be there longer than necessary due to barely being able to keep the tears behind your eyes - Uhm sure…. What do you want to talk about? he asked anxiously - I’m so sorry Minho! I’m really sorry about everything. I didn’t want to get between you and Jisung! He is right, I do ruin everything! you said, your voice barely above a whisper with tears running down your face -Wha-what are you saying jagi? he whispered confused but yet expecting the worst

-I ruin a lot of things Minho, but i refuse to ruin your life more than I already did. It's not fair. I'm sorr.y Minho... we're over. you whispered, pain evident in your voice as you got up quickly, running out of the coffee shop

You ran and ran, not stopping until you got home. You ran straight into your room, falling down the wall in the quiet room, the only sound heard being your heart breaking. You gave up on the anger you held against your brother, and with a last text sent to him, you gave up on yourself.

*MINHO'S POV*

He stood there, watching you run away, taking his heart with you. It took him around 15 minutes to actually process the entire thing.

With small robotic movements, he stood up and slowly walked out of the coffee shop, going back to the dance studio where all his friends were.

He walked in the studio and with small steps he went straight in the furthest corner, collapsing on the floor hidinghis face in his knees. He didn't wanted to cry in front of his friends, let alone cry in front of the few staff members that were there at the time.

Chan, being the good leader and the great friend he is, he Minho's appearence in the corner. With a ferm voice he let everyone know that they are free for the rest of the day, saying that they practiced so much lately that they need a break before someone gets hurt.

His voice was so serious that no one dared to question him and everyone just picked their stuff up and left, everyone besides the band members who were still picking up their stuff while messing around.

With small and calculated steps, Chan moved closer to where Minho was sitting, kneeling close to him, putting a hand on his shaking shoulders.

-Everything okay Min? How did the date with Y/N went? he asked softly

-She broke up with me. She said she couldn't ruin my life anymore.... Thats such bullshit Chan. he whispered, slowly raising his face to look at Chan.

The moment Chan saw his teary eyes he pulled him in a big warm hug, trying to comfort his friend.

*HAN'S POV*

Even tho it was weird for Chan to just call it a day mid practice, Jisung never dared to question his leader, looking forward to hiding behind his bedroom door and avoiding Minho with all costs.

He didn't spoke to his hyung almost atall in the past three weeks, only speaking when needes. It was common knowledge that he was avoiding him after the fight they had on the night Han dropped you home.

He stopped talking to you as well, against his mother's protests. He always asked about your condition and about your state whenever he called home. He didn't wanted to be the first to break and to see a message from you left him in complete shock. He opened the message reading it carefully. Honestly he had to read it twice to fully understand the words he was reading, replying vaguely and confused with your words.

His head flew up the next second, looking around chaotically. His eyes immediately landed on Minho who was currently in the arms of their hyung. He found himself walking closely to them.

-Wha-what happend? What did she do? he found himself saying, panick noticeable in his voice

-She ended things. She didn't wanted to ruin our friendship more than she did. whispered minho realising Chan and whiping his tears. Without a warning Minho stood up and stormed out of the dancing studio, all eyes on him. Han never saw Minho like this, so vulnerable and broken and he found himself feeling guilty.

Without saying a word, he took his belongings and ran out the studio, straight to his car. He found himself in front of his home, 20 minutes later.

He walked out of the car and straight inside, walking to the door of your bedroom. He knocked softly without saying a word. When he didn't hear anything form the other side of the door, he slowly opend it, being welcomed with your body still against the wall, looking into nothing.

He slowly walked thowards yoi, tears picking up in his eyes at the sight of his baby sister being so heark broken. And all because of him. He sat slowly beside you looking at a imaginary dot on the opposite wall. -You were right you know? I was indeed being selfish. I just didnțt wanted to have to share you or Minho. He is my best friend and I would hate to know he is the cause of your pain, but instead I was, and I hated myself even more. whispered jisung trying to get your attention

-You were right, I do ruin everything. Im so sorry for all the things I ruined between the two of you. I am the worst sister ever. you whispered

-You didn’t ruin anything y/nnie! I did! I ruin the relationship between you and me, the one between me and Minho hyung and the one between the two of you. I’m really sorry! Please go and fix this! I know I’m too late but I do want you to be happy!

-It doesn’t matter now, he probably hates me! And its ok Ji, I should’ve told you from the start.

-Minho hyung doesn’t hate you! Is he hurt, yeah. But he doesn’t hate you!

-Not so sure about that Jisung ! you said quietly

-My point is, I see now how much you love each other and I would be a terrible person to stand between you. I would be worse than I already am.

-I get where you’re coming from, I do but you’re my brother and your opinion matters the most to me. Seeing you so mad about the idea of me having a crush on Minho broke me. I tried at first to get rid of them but I couldn’t get rid of his feelings and I couldn’t get rid of mine.

-For how long has this been happening? he slowly asks, his voice softens with each word

-We confessed to each other at Changbin’s birthday party. you whispered slowly

-That was like 7 months ago!! he raised his tone surprised

-I know, Im sorry!

-How did it happen?

-We got drunk at the party and after a while we were just making out. The next morning I woke up behind the couch cuddling with him. We were both so embarrassed but he had the balls to confess. I told him that I wanted to wait to tell you until we were sure that it will work. I wanted to tell you, then you asked me about my crush and I tried to hint it but that didn’t get me the reaction I wanted.

-I overreacted a little didn’t I?

-Yeah, but I understand why. You’re not in an easy position. Sneaking aro was easier but it wasn’t fair to you or to Minho. I was just too scared of losing both of you.

-And now you are whiling to lose him. he whispered feeling guilty

-As much as I love him, you’re my brother. My relationship with you is more important than a boy, at least to mom who is constantly begging me to forgive your sorry ass! you said teasingly

-Hey! You’re not the only one she begged!

-I mean it tho, one day we will be the only ones left. Yes, we’ll have partners but we’ll still be alone. Mom and dad won’t live forever and it is important that we get along well.

-It’s not that important if it’s making you miserable! I know i was wrong, I reacted with knowing the full story. I really am an asshole! But I didn’t wanted to have to choose between you and my best friend, yet I made you choose between me and your boyfriend.

-It was my choice. You didn’t asked for it. It was for his benefit.

-It’s not! He is as miserable as you are! He even hugged Channie hyung back when he hugged him to comfort him. He even cried in front of us! You need to fix this, for you, for him, even for me! I would hate myself for being the reason you both are like this. And trust me I won’t forget myself for the way I reacted.

-Do you think he’ll have me back? you asked shyly

-There’s only one way to find out.

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neverchecking · 9 months

Text

NSFW Alphabet- Legend Edition

Okay, so the Ravio ficlet is fighting me tooth and nail rn but I offer this instead @lovanmari @angry-trashcan @wayfayrr

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

Honestly, a solid 7.8/10. Like, he has a general idea of what he's doing, but still needs some instruction every now and again. But he's the best at massages. You didn't hear it from me, but if you flutter your lashes and ask really nicely, he'll be at your mercy for whatever your heart desires <3

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

Look...This is one Link that I can safely say it's not his freaking hands. It's his fingers. He loves what their capable off, both with a weapon and without. Especially when it comes to taking apart his lover over and over again. Just to see those sweet expressions, just to hear those orgasmic noises, just to experience pure bliss in taking his partner apart at the seams.

On his partner? I could lie to you guys and say he doesn't have one. Or I can tell you about how he drools over a good set of cheeks. (not face cheeks). He loves watching his lover's ass just bounce and ripple with every smack he lays against it. Even better when he wears his rings and leaves a pretty little welt behind as a reminder of him <3

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

Oh he's loves backshots. You know why? Because he gets to cum all over his lover's ass and watch it drip around the curve. And he's got thick cum, I just know it. I just know it's thick and the perfect consistency to drip down in perfect little rivulets down your ass then your thighs.

Don't get him wrong, he also loves cumming deep inside of you, only to then finger it back inside your dirty little whole.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

Is so open to a threesome with Ravio. I HAD TO GET THIS OUT THERE I'M SORRY-

Should his lover bring it up, because he'd rather drown himself than do it himself, he would agree to a threesome with the merchant faster than his lover could blink.

Is totally open to fucking into his lover while Ravio fucks him from behind. That's the thought of the night, your welcome :)

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

I'd say he's one of the more experienced(?) Links out of the bunch? I think he went on a bit of a spiral after Marin and just took every lay he could get to get his mind off her. Little bit of a slut tbh-

That's okay, he stops when he meets you <3 Then he's your slut <3

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

Ooh so many. He likes them all, but obviously anything that gives him access to your ass. Doggy style has a place in his heart for so many reasons. One) He can smack and play with your ass whenever he wants. Two) He can bend over your back and fondle your chest and pull at your nipples whenever he wants. Three) He can mark up your back to his hearts content without worrying about the others seeing the marks.

10/10 position in his humble (Correct) opinion.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

Have you met this man? Him goofy?

Probably fnofnbf. Drops a snide/sarcastic remark just to get his lover's mind off the intrustion entering their body (I hate myself <3). Anything to get them to smile up at him with that dazzling smile.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

HFIOHFF I WAS WAITING FOR THIS ONE. No. Carpets do not match drapes. In fact, drapes are strawberry blond and carpet is PINK. His dick hair is pink. sorry to burst y'alls bubbles. Not even a little. He is practically barbie bushed. But it's well groomed! Trimmed and orderly because it it's not it gets itchy and makes him cranky.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

Oh, he just wants to please his partner. If they want intimacy, he's giving them intimacy. He'll be the most romantic partner his lover has ever seen. Or, if they would rather him spit in their mouth and slap them around a bit, he's doing that too. Maybe they just want him to call them his 'Perfect little whore.' to get that perfect mix of both praise and degradation. He's doing it all. <3

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

Does it a surprising amount. Now, HEAR ME OUT- don't leave yet. He's got a crazy high Libido. One would even say it's comparable to a rabbit's. Either way he's constantly going and going and going. And his partner needs a break. So if he has to hump his hand to the thought of them, then so be it. He's willing to give them a break, if only to know he can go twice as hard the second he get's his hands on them again.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Goddess above where does one begin-

Huge corruption kink, breeding kink, loves to tie his lover up, totally into temperature play, loves marking up his lover with welts and bite marks, cockwarming, spanking, degradation, praise, brat taming, predator/prey play (I'll let you decide who's who in that scenario).

He's open to exploration and will try anything at least once. Anything his lover wants <3

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

Wants total privacy. Look, I know I said he'll try anything at least once, but if it's something huge he needs to be alone with his lover with the amount of vulnerability he's gonna show. If exhibitionism is the thing he's trying, he's going to need a lot of convincing and you're gonna need to start slow. Maybe not locking the door one time or leaving a window open. Things like that.

Just take things slow and he'll open up to other locations. Number one is still his house though. Ravio can join go take a walk after being (s)exiled.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

Oh anything. Like I said, fucking like rabbits. You breath in his general direction and he's sweating, doing the good ol' horny grip on his pants and thighs and praying you don't notice. Has to take a walk after that. Maybe settle behind a tree for a solid tug-and-rub.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Honestly? Probably absolutely against watersports. Idk i just can't see him being into it no matter what. Gives him the absolute biggest ick.

(loves making his lover squirt if they're capable of doing so though)

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

I think he prefers receiving. He's absolutely fantastic at giving, like holy shit give this man a medal. But I think he prefers watching your eyes water as you try to take him all in one good. Loves feeling your throat constrict around him. And if you fondle/ finger yourself while doing so, looking up at him through your lashes?

He'll fuck your face. And he won't be nice with it.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

I'm sure the rabbit jokes are getting old at this point, but you need to understand how important that side of him is to me.

Anyway, absolutely fast and rough. Jackhammers into his lover, absolutely scrambles their brain because just listening to them babble is so hot to him.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

Loves them. Will do them every chance he gets. He is so down for a quickie and he's good at them. He's rocking your little world with the ten minutes he has.

Since you have to be quick, he can't spill all over your ass, so this little bastard obviously has to cum inside :) And then he expects you to hold a straight face while dripping his cum :)

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

Like I said, down to try anything at least once, but he may have to warm up to the idea. Just take it slow, baby steps, and let him warm up to the idea. Let him take the lead. He'll do anything you want after that <3

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

...OKAY- I WON'T SAY IT BUT KNOW I'M THINKING IT.

He has stamina for DAYS. Can't stop when he gets going. Like he gets straight up sexdrunk. Pussydrunk/Dickdrunk idk (I read the term in a Leon Kennedy x Reader fic and that's now how I'm describing all of the Links thanks) He's that. He's just so into it that he cannot stop. Your gonna have to stop him and pull him away man.

Although, you don't have to <33

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

Absolutely uses toys. He sees them as a partner in crime rather than the enemy (As he should) and uses all sorts just to see what happens because of it. Remember that temp. play thing I mentioned? Loves using different tools, running them along your skin just to hear you cry out or jut up into him, shivering.

Also, probably loves plugs with a little tail on the end. A bunny tail-SORRY YOU HAD TO KNOW THAT WAS COMING-

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Loves to tease. He is absolutely loves making you beg for him. Loves feeling you make a mess all over yourself, and by consequence himself, only to pull away at the very last second. Actually. now that I think about it, he's so into edging. And the second your on the precipice, he'll push you over that ledge, but instead of staying with you and carrying you through that high, he's ruining your orgasm and laughing in your face.

Only to do it all over again.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

Not overly loud...unless your sucking him off and playing with his balls. He's just a mess. I mean, he's crying out, whining, whimpering your name. Just broken. A broken little man.

When he's hitting it from the back though, it's not so much noises, but words. Legend has a FILTHY fucking mouth. Like get this man a bar of soap because the words he utters? Pure filth hidden in the perfect little tone, meant to make you shatter underneath of him.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

Absolutely loves dumbifying his lover. Loves just turning them into the perfect, mindless little toy for him to use. Their mindless little cries as he just destroys them? Drive him up the wall. Their sinful whimpers as they reach for him, pulling him as close as possible as he carves his place into them?

Fuck, he's going feral just thinking about it.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

He's packing an average six inches, seven when hard. Average girth as well. You know what's not average about him though? He's got the best curve to his dick. And it's all natural. It hits the perfect spots every time, no matter the position. And, when he puts his mind to it, he can make it feel thirteen times better. He's brushing against those spots without really trying anyway, but now he's hitting them, dead on, every single thrust.

And he's got nice balls. Suck 'em a little. He'll cry. In a good way though. :)

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

High. There is never a moment he's not down to do that devil's tango. He just hides it well. He has the trauma to have a damn good poker face and uses it all the time. He can't have all his thoughts on full display.

You know...Thoughts on bending you over his knee and just smacking those cheeks of yours, turning them a cherry red and watching the flesh ripple. Of making you cry and cling to him, begging him to stop while also pleading with him to do no such thing. Yk. Casual things.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

Doesn't sleep normally let alone when his lover is displaying such vulnerability in his presence. He has to protect them! He needs to be there just in case. He's their first and last line of defense.

He's not sleeping until he's absolutely certain it's safe for both of you.

#yandere linked universe #yandere linked universe x reader #linked universe #linked universe x reader #yandere legend of zelda #legend of zelda #linkeduniverse #link x reader #loz #yandere lu legend #lu legend x reader #yandere lu legend x reader #lu legend #cindersins

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