#go read this fic right now it’s so good!

[aswefindourwayback]

Tastes Like Heaven

Authors note: i wanted to put out another fic so this is one i originally wrote for another fandom. i’ve changed it a bit to match spencer. i hope you guys like it! feedback is always appreciated.

wc: 1685

warnings: dick sucking

It had been a long day at the BAU for Spencer. He’s been working on the latest case everyday for the past few weeks. Every day, he wouldn’t get home until 3 am and would leave for the offices early in the mornings.

You had fallen asleep on the couch, waiting for him so you could go to bed together. Once you heard the click of the front door unlocking, you sat up and watched as your boyfriend walked into the living area. He looked exhausted, all you wanted to do was pull him into you and hold him as he got some much needed rest.

“Hi, darling. How was work today?” you asked him as he walked over and plopped himself on the couch next to you.

“It was alright. Morgan was getting on my nerves though. He can’t make up his mind sometimes. He also swapped the containers for the sugar and salt so my coffee was salty.”

He goes to run his hands down his face.

Fuck

You can see the way he’s craning his neck back. The veins in his hands and arms are protruding his skin a bit. He lets out a little breath that sounds like a bit of a groan.

“Is there anything I can do to cheer you up?” you ask.

He grabs your hips and moves you to sit atop his lap. He wraps his arms around your hips and back, pulling you close as he nestles his face into your neck, breathing in the scent that is you.

“Just stay right here, please,” he says.

“Alright. I’ll stay.”

You two sit there for ages, just holding each other in the comfortable silence.

But you slowly become uncomfortable from the fact that you’ve had his growing erection slowly poking your ass through his jeans.

You slowly pull back to look at his face. He looks up at you with a tired look, but right underneath, you can see the hunger in his eyes.

You leaned in to give him a quick peck, to see if you were reading him right. And you were. He holds you to him by grabbing the side of your face and desperately kissing you. Your wet kisses filled the silence of the room. You moved to adjust yourself on his lap, lightly grazing his clothed crotch, making him shudder as you moved against him. His breath quivered as he arched his back, trying to gain more friction.

He moved his hand to grab the back of your neck, pulling on your hair, causing you to suck in a sharp breath. Spencer took this opportunity to stick his tongue into your mouth, slightly sucking on your tongue.

The hand that isn’t holding you against him moves down to your upper thigh where he writes something with his finger

‘mine’

You swear you could cum right there. But you don’t.

Spencer moves to take off your shirt and as soon as it’s off, he realizes you weren’t wearing anything else underneath it but a pair of thin, sheer panties.

“Oh fuck.” he whispered.

He goes to pull your panties to the side but you have other plans.

“Wait baby. Let me take care of you. You’ve had a long week. Do you wanna be a good boy for me and let me do all the work?”

“I’ll be good, promise.” he says shaking his head up and down.

“I’ll take good care of you, promise.”

You move off his lap and kneel down infront of him, not before he took a pillow from the couch and dropped it on the floor for your knees.

“Don’t want my girl in pain now, do I?” he cheekily smirks at you.

You slowly and lightly trail a hand up his leg, teasingly going up his inner thigh before palming him through his pants. He lets out a groan as he rolls his head back, letting you see his exposed neck. Oh how you wish you could lick a trail up it.

You tauntingly moved to unbutton his pants, slowly pulling the zipper down before helping him pull them off completely.

You pressed soft kisses on the insides of his thighs, watching as he restrained himself from taking over and fucking you mercilessly.

You rested your head against his thigh as you reached to pull the waistband of his boxers down. As you did, his hardened cock sprung up. It was red and already beading with precum.

“Oh my, this looks painful, darling.” you say as you blow a breath of air on his tip, causing him to slightly thrust his hips up into nothing.

“Let me help you out a bit.”

You lightly wrap your hand around the tip and circle your wrist a bit, he’s gripping the couch cushions, his hands turning white as he tries not to lose it.

You run your hand up and down his cock twice before squeezing his tip then letting go.

Spencer is starting to feel light headed from the teasing he’s had to endure, biting his lip to suppress some of the sounds his throat has been coiling.

You take his cock in one hand and lick a long strip along the side of his cock, eliciting a jaw dropping moan from Spencer. The most gorgeous scene is displayed in front of you right now and you can’t help but squeeze your thighs together, trying to gain some friction. But this isn’t about you, it’s about the beautiful specimen of a man before you.

You kiss the tip of him before wrapping your lips around it and gently sucking on it. Spencer’s body shudders as he quickly moves his hand to grab your hair and pull on it. His eyes are closed but that’s not what you want.

“Don’t close your eyes, baby. Look at me.” you condescend him.

Now, you take him in your mouth, slowly taking him in. He’s too big for your mouth though so you wrap your hand around the rest of him. Spencer’s grip on your hair becomes tighter and you can feel how hard he’s resisting the urge to use you as a fuck toy and thrusting into your mouth.

You start bobbing your head up and down him, gradually going faster. Your hand matches the pace of your mouth.

The only sounds in the room are his moans and the wet sounds coming from your mouth as you suck him off.

You push yourself to try and fit him all in your mouth but it’s proving to be difficult. You push yourself until it’s hard to breathe. But you do it, you push down and reach his base, causing him to thrust up into your throat. You gag as he does so and let go of him and sit back on your knees as you try to regain your breath.

“I'm so sorry, darling. It was an accident, didn’t mean to.” he sits forward, massaging the back of your neck. You can see the sorrow all over his face, it really was an accident. But you didn’t mind it, you really enjoyed it actually.

There’s spit all over your face and tears are running down your face. Your hairs a mess but you’re still the most beautiful person in the world to him, even with how fucked out you look.

“That was hot.” was all you said before you pushed him back onto the couch and wrapped your hand around the base of his cock. You stroked him a few times before taking him into your mouth again and hollowing your cheeks.

You watch as his stomach muscles flex under the thin material of his shirt, trying not to roll his hips up. You can see how he’s struggling to breathe, he's panting and looking down at you with love and lust filled eyes.

You take this chance to gently wrap your free hand around his balls and twist them around a bit.

This new sensation makes Spencer rolls his head back against the back of the couch, his jaw dropping as he cries out for more.

“Baby, please don’t stop doing that. That’s so- ahh fuck, so fucking good.” he says.

You continue to play around with his balls as you bob up and down his cock. He’s getting close, you can feel it, with the way he’s twitching against your tongue.

You bob up and down him faster, slurping around his dick and letting out moans. The vibration drives him crazy. He’s a whimpering mess, he’s given up on restraining himself and is now thrusting up into your mouth, pushing so far that you’re gagging with every thrust. You can feel all your drool dripping down your chin and neck as he holds your head in place. Your lips are numb from having them wrapped around him for so long.

“Fuck baby, made for me. You were m-made for me, fuck, taking me so well in that pretty little mouth. Look better with my cock down your throat. Shit- My beautiful girl. Can I come in your mouth?” he asks so politely, as if he hasn’t been thrusting into your mouth, making you choke and gag.

You try and tell him you want him to come in your mouth but it comes out as a gargled mess, but he gets the message.

With a few more thrusts, he's spilling down your throat, keeping you pressed against the base of his cock as he empties into your mouth. His breathing is erratic as he lets you go.

You pull back and stick your tongue out to show him all that he gave you. He moves closer to you and grabs your chin between his fingers.

“Be a good girl and swallow for me.” he whispers in your ear.

You shiver from his warm breath and demanding tone of voice.

You do as he says, opening your mouth to show him that you had swallowed all of him. He grabs you by the neck and kisses you, tasting the reminiscence of him that still coats your mouth.

“You taste like heaven.”

#criminal minds fic #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds fanfiction #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid one shot #spencer reid smut #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fic #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x self insert #spencer reid x fem!reader smut #spencer reid x fem!readr

[slytherheign]

AFTERGLOW | charles leclerc

PART 3/3 OF LOVER: THE TRILOGY.

PAIRING: charles leclerc x fem!reader

WORD COUNT: 3.2k

SUMMARY: the dark nights may have already passed but the biggest storm is just beginning. the daylight is becoming harder to be seen, and now you see yourself questioning if love will be enough to conquer all—even the afterglow.

WARNINGS: angst, hate, doubts, cursing/swearing, and arguments. let me know if i missed any warnings. [⚠︎︎RATING: G]

AUTHOR’S NOTE: inspired by taylor swift’s song with the same title. I CAN’T BELIEVE IT’S FINALLY HERE! this is way overdue and i apologize. i owe you guys a lot of fics for being absent for way too long. this is dedicated to ALL of you! thank you guys so much for the never-ending support.

DESTINATION: Sweet Street | GO TO TRILOGY MASTERLIST or GO BACK TO THE STATION.

At first, it was just a few comments here and there, snide remarks about your differences—how Charles was way too good for you or how you didn't fit into society's expectations. You brushed them off, laughed them away, thinking that their words couldn't penetrate the walls you had built around the two of you.

But little did you know how wrong you were.

The online hate began to escalate, turning into a relentless storm that seemed to follow you wherever you went. Your private moments were invaded, dissected, and judged by people who had no right to pass such harsh judgment. Their words became a constant presence, infecting your mind, and sowing seeds of doubt and insecurity.

“So, she basically has nothing… and then she decides to date Charles, who obviously, has everything. I don’t know about y’all… but I feel like she’s just dating him because she knows he can provide for her.”

“She’s giving me golddigger vibes.”

“No cause fr what the hell did she do to get Charles to fall for her.”

Your eyes were glued to your phone while Charles was making dinner. No matter what application you seemed to open, you were all over social media. After Charles decided to launch your relationship to the public, both your names became trending ever since. 

“Chérie, do you know where the pasta is?” he asked. He was opening the cabinets in the kitchen quite loudly but all the noises were drowned out as you scrolled further down the comments.

“Imagine this… she leaves everything, including her family and friends, just to focus on herself. What makes us think she wouldn’t do the same to Charles?”

“Selfish. That’s one word I would describe her.”

Your hands began to shake and you felt the tears pooling in your eyes. 

“Nevermind. Chérie, I found it!” he cheered.

This time, you heard his voice. Yet again noticing how accomplishing little things seemed to cheer him up. God, he was such a light. His soul was so pure and innocent.

“Charles needs to leave her while it’s still early omg.”

“Give her a few months and we’ll see just how much she’d damage him.”

Now that you were thinking about it, it seemed that everyone you come across with ends up in ruins. It was always dreams before relationships for you, life before love, and self before others.

Maybe they were right. You were selfish.

“Either she leaves him or Charles leaves her first. I hope it’s the second one.”

“He needs to escape. She’ll hurt him more the longer he’s with her.”

The more you read their words, the more they were becoming true in your head.

“Charles does not deserve someone like her. I said what I said.”

You glanced at him, his back facing you as he cooked dinner. He was humming a song, a soft song he would always play on his piano for you. It was impossible to stop the tears that started falling. 

You were scared. 

Scared that what they said was true and that the longer you were in his life, the more you’d damage him.

You were scared for him.

And scared of you.

“Pls even her best friend, Charlotte, is better than her.”

“If I was him, I’d leave right this instant.”

You didn’t want to damage him. You didn’t want to taint someone so pure.

What you wanted to do was protect him. Protect him from harm, protect him from any damages, protect him from getting hurt…

“We need to protect Charles from her.”

But what if they were right? 

They were his fans for a reason. They care for him.

Surely, they know what’s best for him…

“When is girlie going to realize that she’s the problem.”

They were right.

You were the problem. 

You were the harm, the person who does the damage, the person who would hurt him.

“I hope they break up. It’s what’s best for Charles.”

Charles took the phone in your hand and threw it on the wall. You stared at him in shock. How long was he behind you? You didn’t even hear his footsteps. Did he see the comments you were reading?

“What the hell are you reading, mon amour?” he asked angrily. But when he noticed you crying, he softened his voice. “I was calling your name, asking you to taste the sauce. You weren’t answering so I decided to come here.”

You stared at your broken phone on the floor. He followed your line of sight.

“I can replace it. Don’t worry about it.”

He put his hand on your cheek, moving your face so you were facing him. 

“I-I don’t know what the other comments said, I only read about the last few ones,” he wiped your tears. “And I can assure you, I won’t break up with you. I’ll never do that.”

“Maybe you should,” you replied.

“Mon amour, I understand what you’re feeling right now. You’re not used to online hate and strangers on the internet criticizing you, but I am. And the best thing we can do is ignore them. They have no idea what happens behind closed doors and cameras. They know nothing.”

“Charles, they’re your fans. They were there for you even before I came into your life.”

“That doesn’t mean they know everything about me.”

“I don’t know, Charles…” you turned your face away from him, his hands dropping from your face in the process. You slightly distanced yourself from him.

Their words were poison and they went straight to your head. It was painful to admit, but you started questioning the strength of your relationship. How could you build a future amidst the chaos and resentment? You tried not to pay them attention, to convince yourself that love could conquer all, but the weight of the hate grew heavier with each passing day.

“Do I really mean that little to you?” Charles asked suddenly.

You blew things out of proportion, and now he was blue.

You looked back at him but you kept your distance.

“Why would you think that?” 

“Because you’re just throwing everything away like the last two years didn’t exist.” 

“Charles, no–that’s not—” you walked closer to him but he was the one who distanced himself this time.

“I’ve fought for this relationship, for you—time and time again. And you can’t do the same?”

You were speechless.

You put him in jail for something he didn't do.

“I told you countless times, I can protect you—I will protect you. Don’t you trust me enough?” he continued.

You pinned his hands behind his back.

“Charles, it’s not about you protecting me… because I know you will. It’s about—”

“It’s about what?” he stared at you, his eyes glistening with tears he was trying hard to keep from falling.

Thought you had reason to attack, but no.

You looked at him with tears, lips quivering as you prepared to say the words.

“It’s about what, Y/N?” Charles held your face with his hands, wiping the tears from your cheeks. “It’s about what?” his voice was shaking. “Tell me, chérie… please?”

Fighting with a true love was like boxing with no gloves. 

“It’s about me protecting you, Charles,” you whimpered. “Maybe the things that they’re saying are true—maybe you need to run away from me before I leave you. Maybe I-I’m not truly what you need…”

You covered his hands with yours. “Charles… maybe we should just—”

Chemistry 'til it blew up, 'til there's no you and him anymore.

“No,” he answered.

“Charles, I think—”

“I know what you’re thinking. And no—that’s my final answer.”

He let go of you and started to pace the room.

“Charles—”

“We’ve made it this far… and you’re just going to give up now?” he stared at you, looking at your eyes for some sort of indication that everything was just a joke. All of his defenses broke and he didn’t even care if his tears started to fall.

Why'd you have to break what you loved so much?

“I hurt everyone I get close to. Charles, I’m just trying to protect you. Please–” 

“I don’t need your fucking protection! You! I need you!” he screamed in frustration.

And then he did something you didn’t expect.

He kneeled in front of you, holding your hands as he begged you not to leave him.

“Mon amour, just fight for us. Please, that’s only what I ask.”

“Oh, Charles… I really don’t deserve you.”

“Please, just stay with me… I’ll do anything you want. Just don’t leave me, mon amour, just s-stay, please.”

“Charles, p-please don’t cry, I-I can’t see you cry—stand up, please,” you cried.

It was on his face, the clear image of pain, and you were the one to blame. At that moment, you thought of every possible way this argument would end. You were already hurting him right now, what more would you do if you stayed? How much pain would you cause?

Charles stood up and cupped your cheeks with his hands. “Do you think it doesn’t hurt me?” he paused, turning your face so that your eyes were looking at his. “When they say all that shit about you? When they drag your name through the mud? When they feast over you on the internet? Do you think it doesn’t hurt me?” 

You didn’t know what to say.

“It hurts me too,” he whispered, pressing his forehead against yours as he closed his eyes. “But I can’t control what they say. If I could, I would’ve done it way too long ago.”

“Charles…”

“This is the way the world works, Y/N. You have to realize that people say what they want to say and people do what they want to do. Everything is done with a choice.” 

He finally opened his eyes, pulling away from you and wiping his tears. He stayed standing in front of you, but he now maintained a distance.

“Y/N…”

You couldn’t deny the pang of pain you felt when he called you by your name instead of the pet names he loved to call you.

“I can’t fight for a relationship when the other one’s already giving up,” he said. 

“You deserve someone way better than me,” you cried. “Look what I’m doing, I’m already hurting you right now. I would just hurt you even more in the future.”

Instead of him getting sad, his face showed a different emotion. It was blank, it was as if the emotions that blew up moments ago exhausted him.

“If you decide to stay or not, just know that I love you.”

ONE WEEK LATER.

You fucking hated yourself.

What the fuck did you just do?

Why didn’t you stay that night and why did you have to break what you loved so much?

You tried living without his presence for a week and it was horrible. You convinced yourself that you would eventually get used to a life without the warmth of his body next to yours or the sweet messages he would send every day. It was getting hard to reassure yourself that this was the way it was meant to be—you, away from him—when the only name your heart was calling was his.

You were miserable. You were breathing but you felt like you were already dead because your life had been taken away from you.

And you only have yourself to blame.

The truth was, you were weak. Each time you experience a block in the road, you immediately turn away. And you were ashamed of yourself for that. You were scared of losing Charles so you pushed him away. You left him before he could realize he needed to leave you.

You were regretting every single thing you did.

You regretted how you lived like an island, how you punished him with silence, how you went off like sirens, but above all, you regretted how you walked away.

Now you found yourself in front of his home, shaking as you slowly raised your hand to knock on the door. You hoped he was inside.

You knocked on the door hoping it was not too late. The door opened slowly after a few minutes, and after a week of no interaction, you finally saw him.

He was in the same state as you, maybe even worse. It was evident on his face that he spent most of his time crying. His eyes which were full of life before became lifeless, and he gave you the most lethargic look.

You wanted to hurt yourself because you knew you did that to him.

“Can I come inside, please?” you pleaded.

He stepped aside from the door and walked straight to the couch, not even sparing you a single glance. You followed him, sitting beside him as silence consumed the two of you.

“Hey,” you couldn’t help but cry as you looked at him. He had his head in his hands and you knew he was stopping himself from crying. “I’m sorry,” you said. “You don’t have to talk, I just want you to listen.”

When he didn’t move, you took that as a sign to continue. Honestly, you didn’t know where to start but you just let your heart guide you on what words you needed him to hear. 

“It’s all me, Charles. I’m sorry,” you stated. “It’s all me, in my head—I burned us down. I know I said a lot of stupid things but it’s not what I meant. And I—” you wiped a tear from your cheek. “I’m sorry that I hurt you.” 

He stayed still, hands still covering his face. You wanted him to look at you, but you knew you were in no position to tell him what to do when you were the reason he was this way. And so, you just continued to speak, hoping that deep inside his heart, he would find it in himself to forgive you.

“At that moment, I felt like the walls were closing in on me and the world was spinning out of control. I let my emotions take over and lashed out in ways that were unreasonable and unfair. I see now that I projected my own fears onto you, and I regret it. I regret everything I said that day. I let my assumptions take control and I assumed the worst without giving you the benefit of the doubt. I realize now that I sabotaged something beautiful, something we had worked so hard to build together.

“I didn’t want to do this to you. I want you to know that I take full responsibility for my overreaction. I'm aware of the impact it had on you, and I understand that you are hurt and feeling distant. But please, Charles, give me a chance to make it right. Give me a chance to show you that I’m capable of growth and that I’m learning from my mistakes.

“I can't promise that I won't make mistakes in the future, but I can assure you that I will do everything in my power to communicate openly and honestly and I will seek to understand your perspective before jumping to conclusions.

“I don’t want to lose you, Charles. I know trust takes time to rebuild, and I’m willing to put in the effort. You’re right, you’re always right— our love is worth fighting for. Please forgive me for being too weak, for walking away instead of staying. I misplaced my hurt and anger and I hurt you. I love you, Charles, please, at least look at me?” you pleaded.

And he did. He finally looked up. His eyes were red from crying as he held your hands in his. “That’s all I ever wanted to hear from you. For you to say that you’re willing to fight for us. I needed you to realize that for us to work, we have to meet each other halfway.”

“I know, and again, I’m sorry,” you apologized.

“Thank you,” he cried, cupping your cheek with his hand.

“For what?” you asked him.

“For coming back.”

You smiled at each other, leaning in for a kiss when you both got distracted by the light that suddenly shined through his large window.

As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting a golden hue across the sky, you both stood side by side at the window. The afterglow of the sun painted the room in warm tones, filling the space with a sense of something you haven’t felt for a long time… peace.

You leaned your head against his shoulder, your hand intertwined with his. You watched in awe as the last rays of sunlight danced across the clouds, creating breathtaking shades of colors. For a moment, you swore the sky was pink.

"It's like nature's painting," you whispered, voice filled with wonder.

Charles nodded in agreement, his gaze fixed on the ever-changing canvas before the two of you. "Yeah, it's beautiful," he replied softly.

The two of you simply stood there, lost in the beauty of the moment. Time seemed to stand still as you basked in the quiet serenity of the evening. As the sky darkened and the stars began to twinkle overhead, you both reluctantly tore your gazes away from the window. But the memory of the afterglow of the sun lingered in your hearts, a reminder of the beauty that surrounded you each day.

For the longest time, you let hate consume you. It was like this dark cloud hanging over your head. You were so focused on what they all had to say that you forgot to appreciate what was right in front of you.

But then, something shifted. Maybe it was a moment of clarity or a whisper of wisdom from somewhere deep within. Or maybe it was him, Charles, that made you realize that conforming to hate wasn't getting you anywhere. It wasn’t making you happy, it wasn't bringing you peace. All it was doing was tearing you apart, piece by piece.

And in that moment of realization, everything changed. You finally made a choice—a choice to let go of the hate and embrace love instead. You knew it wasn't going to be easy, and it wasn’t something that happens overnight, but you were determined to commit.

You were beginning to see the beauty in the world around you. The fact that it could be the laughter of real friends, the warmth of the sun on your skin, or the gentle touch of a loved one's hand—you realized that true love was everywhere, if only you were willing to open your eyes and see it.

So now, you were choosing love by choosing him. You chose to appreciate the little moments of joy, the simple pleasures of life. You chose to let go of anger and resentment, and instead, filled your heart with kindness and compassion.

You would soon forgive your family.

Because in the end, love is all that really mattered. It was what connected us, what bound us together as human beings. And when we embrace it, when we let it guide us, we would find out that life is so much sweeter, and so much more meaningful.

So here's to love—in all its forms, in all its beauty.

And here’s to Charles, your lover.

SLYTHERHEIGN TAGLIST: @writingstoraes @joshiiieeenesx @c-losur3

FORMULA ONE TAGLIST: @dreamingofautopia @lpab @matildrry @fangirl125reader @tall-tanned-tattoo @aundercover @stevesworld96 @princessria127

#charles leclerc #charles leclerc angst #charles leclerc fluff #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc fanfic #charles leclerc fanfiction #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc x y/n #charles leclerc fan fiction #charles leclerc imagines #charles leclerc x you #charles leclerc x female reader #formula 1 #formula one #f1 imagines #f1 x reader #f1 #formula one x reader #formula 1 fanfic #formula 1 x reader #formula one imagine #f1 imagine #f1 fanfiction #f1 fanfic #lover: the trilogy #lover #taylor swift #leclerc #ferrari #afterglow

[matty-bear]

Concert Fright [C.S]

type: fic !

pairing: drummer!chris sturniolo x fem!little!reader

warnings: sfw, fluffy, age regression

summary: you and your friend liv manage to bag tickets for your favorite band ! who knew it would take a sudden overwhelming turn and the two of you would end up backstage ? 

notes: submission for Bratzfornick141 writing contest ! (which is hosted by @bratzforchris and @nicksbestie !) <story elements selected: fluff, age regression, band member x fan, and concert> first age regression related fic i'm so excited ^^ hope u enjoy ! happy reading <33

WC: 4.7K

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｡ ﾟ☁︎｡ ⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡ ⋆｡ ﾟ☁︎｡ ⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡ ⋆｡ ﾟ☁︎｡ ⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡ ⋆

The loud chatter of people ran through your ears as your friend, Liv, pulled you down the aisle and to the barricade. You could faintly make out an artist playing on the speakers in the small venue however you couldn’t quite make out who it was exactly due to all the commotion around you. With a soft exhale, you grasp the black railing and look over at the brunette next to you with a large smile. 

“Okay, but you have to admit I bagged such good tickets,” Liv says as she turns on her heels, an equally large smile plastered on her lips as she looks over at you. 

A few weeks ago, you and Liv’s favorite band announced that they would be going on tour. Considering how huge fans the two of you were of them, you both immediately decided on going. After ensuring that they were going to come to your area, Liv immediately made a plan for how to get tickets. The female took it upon herself to get in the traumatizing queue of Ticketmaster and sat in front of her desk for around an hour in hopes of bagging tickets. 

Luckily, she managed to get two front-row tickets and didn’t hesitate to call you the moment she got the confirmation email. Since then, you guys began to plan out concert outfits (you guys obviously got matching outfits) and counted down the days till the band came to your area. 

And that brings us to now. 

“These are amazing seats, props to you for fighting all the fangirls.” You praise the female with a small pat on her shoulder. Liv simply chuckles softly at the touch and quickly digs her hand into the pocket of her pants. After pulling her phone out, she taps her screens softly and turns the device so it faces you. 

“Two more minutes!” Liv lets out a small squeal of excitement and takes her free hand to grab your shoulder and shake your body back and forth. A small stream of giggles falls from your lips as you rock back and forth on your heels a few times before the brunette finally lets you go. “You think Matt will notice me? I mean I will be right in front of him.” 

“I’m one hundred percent sure that he will fall in love with you the second he comes on stage. Kid will get so dazed that they're gonna have to call for a break.” 

“Awh wait, I don't want them to have to stop mid-concert.” Liv frowns faintly with a soft huff. You shrug your shoulders and turn your head to allow your eyes to land on the stage in front of you. Your gaze wanders to the instruments towards the back for a moment, allowing your brain to get a better sense of your surroundings. You can faintly make out two of Matt’s guitars on a light brown rack tucked in the corner, the light blue one being attached to the amp a little closer to the ramp near the side of the stage. 

Next to the rack was Chris’ orange drum set, the set the male has had since the beginning of the band’s career. The boy never went a day, from what you know, without using his orange drum set. You vividly remember him saying in a video that he’s grown very attached to the said set and would never get rid of it, even if the wrap is scratched and beaten to the core. It simply holds too many memories. As you stare at the bass, you feel your insides start to churn, half out of nervousness and half out of excitement. 

You were very fond of Chris, him being your favorite member of the band. You felt as though the two of you had a lot of things in common and that’s why you were so drawn to him. Yes, the boy was very attractive but his personality was what took the cake for you. He knew when it was time to mess around and when it was time to get to work and you respected him a lot for it. In the middle of your daze, the lights suddenly dim, and the speakers get rid of the music sounding from them. 

Immediately, the sound of high-pitched screaming runs through your ears. You freeze on the spot, a million feelings running through your veins all at once. At first, the feeling was a little overwhelming, however when you felt Liv’s hand gently grasp your hand, you felt more at ease. As you glance over at the female next to you, the sight of her excited expression brings you pure happiness. You watch her quickly take her phone out and open her camera before you face the stage again. 

The second you do so, the band begins to take the stage. Your jaw drops slightly as you watch the boys take their places in front of their instruments or Nick’s case, take his mic, and set it on the stand. You find yourself staring at Chris, your breath getting caught in your throat as you watch him take a seat behind his drums. A large smile can be seen on his lips as he bends down slightly to slip two sticks out from his bag. 

As he begins to twirl one in between his fingers, his free hand raises to adjust his in-ear. The boy finally lifts his head after a few moments and the two of you immediately lock eyes. You feel your face heat up when the brunette sends you a small wave, his smile somehow growing even wider. You send a small wave back before averting your gaze over to Nick who’s standing directly in front of you. 

Holy fuck he waved at me. 

Your heart was going at a million miles per hour at this point. You just made rather long eye contact with your favorite member not even a minute into their set. Your limbs were beginning to feel like jelly but you kept your strong hold of the barrier to keep yourself steady. As you kept your gaze focused on Nick, a certain boy behind him kept his eyes trained on you. 

“Hey guys!” Nick greets into the mic, his voice booming through the speakers and filling the venue. The crowd immediately begins to scream loudly at the boy's simple greeting. “It’s great to finally be here! You all look lovely tonight, I swear we have one of the best-dressed fanbases. Wouldn’t you agree, Matt?” 

The blonde turns his head slightly to look over at the mentioned brunette who rips his focus away from the guitar in his hands. Matt takes a moment to look out to the crowd, his eyes scanning over a few fans before he nods his head with a small smile. 

“Well, I'm sure you guys have been waiting for long enough. How about we jump right in, yes?” Nick asks as he focuses his attention back to the crowd ahead of him. In response, everyone begins screaming again. Nick lightly chuckles in response, his mic barely picking up the sound. 

The boy turns his body slightly to look back at Chris and gives him a small nod. The brunette nods firmly in response and you can faintly make out his chest rise and fall softly before he begins to play. You immediately recognize the song by the first few beats and a small scream escapes your lips as a result. 

“It’s your song, girl!” Liv exclaims as she clamps a hand on your shoulder. You nod your head rapidly in response, your eyes shifting from Chris to Nick again as he begins to sing the first verse.  You immediately allow yourself to get absorbed in the band’s set as their music spills from the speakers. The boys started with some of their slower songs and eventually transitioned to their upbeat ones, which caused the crowd to lose their shit. (that includes you and Liv) 

As they were a few songs in, you felt yourself start to get a little overwhelmed. The girl behind you was starting to throw your senses off with her non-stop screaming in your ear. It seemed as though she had no off button during the band’s set. While you’re all for enjoying a concert and allowing yourself to be free during sets, you strongly dislike when people are nonstop screaming and aren’t being considerate of the people around them. 

On top of the girls screaming, the music was starting to get a little too loud for your liking. Usually, you wouldn’t mind this however your feelings were getting thrown about like a rag doll and you felt super out of wack. Due to how overwhelming you were starting to become, you were starting to feel a little small. As your chest was starting to tighten and you felt yourself about to slip into your headspace, you looked over at Liv. 

You hesitated getting the female’s attention since she seemed to be enjoying herself but you needed to get out of the crowd and God knew you couldn’t do it by yourself. People were constantly shoving each other, trying to get closer to the front, and as a result, you got shoved against the barricade, your ribs and legs smashing against the cold, hard metal.

After a long moment of hesitation, you grab Liv’s arm and shake her gently. It took a few good tugs for the female to finally turn to look over at you but when she did, a concerned expression flashed on her face as she looks at you. 

“What’s wrong?” The female asks, her free hand immediately grasping your wrist. You let out a small whine and shake your head in response. You were fighting for your life to be big at this point and as a result, you couldn’t bring yourself to verbally respond to the girl. Liv takes a moment to study your features until it finally clicks.

She goes to open her mouth to say something however at the sound of two girls screaming bloody murder behind you, you immediately crouch down. One hand immediately shoots to cover your ear as the other firmly gasps one of the bars on the barricade, a small whimper escaping your lips as your eyes squeeze shut. 

“Hey, hey, hey.” Liv says, her voice barely audible over the intense amount of screaming around the two of you. “y/n you need to get up. You’re gonna get trampled if you stay down there.” After not gaining a bodily response from you, Liv huffs and bends down slightly to grab you from beneath your arms. 

With one strong pull, she lifts you to her feet and allows you to crash against her chest. When your soft whimpers and cries fill her ears, Liv sighs softly and rubs her hand against your back. As she begins to look at the crowd behind her, the dials in her brain begin to turn as she attempts to figure out how to get to a secluded area. Little did the female know, a certain band member had been intently watching the two females the moment the situation went down. 

As Chris finishes his part of the song, he stops and allows his arms to drop to his lap, the tip of his sticks lightly grazing the hoop of his snare. As he takes one more worried glance at you, he finally lets his eyes shift over to Matt, who has now begun to walk to the front of the stage to play his guitar solo. Chris lets out a rather impatient huff and looks over at Nick, who’s reaching down to grab someone’s phone, not paying attention to anyone but the person in front of him. 

No one’s paying attention. Shit. 

As the brunette continues to keep the steady beat of the song through the usage of his bass, he eyes Matt and waits for the male to be done with his solo. When the boy strums the final chord and begins backing up, Chris finally decides to grab his attention. 

“Matt!” The boy whisper-shouts. After not gaining a reply, he yells again, this time a little louder. “Matt!”

The guitar player finally turns his head, his eyes immediately locking with Chris’ worried ones. “What’s up?” Matt mouths. 

Chris lifts a single stick and points toward you and Liv’s direction. “Get security and tell them to escort those two to the back.” 

“The back?” 

Chris rolls his eyes at the hesitant look Matt gives him. “Yes, the back! Hurry the fuck up!” 

Matt huffs and turns back around, his eyes immediately getting to work on finding security. The moment his gaze falls on a bright yellow vest near the center of the stage, he quickly hurries over to them. When his turn to play comes up, his fingers begin to dance around the fret of his guitar. Due to both of his hands being busy, he crouches down as close as he can to the security and calls for them. At the sight of the brunette struggling to get the security’s attention, the fans in front of him assist the male by also shouting.

When the security finally turns back to face Matt, the latter quickly turns his head towards where you and Liv are. “Get those two girls to the back, please. Chris’ order.” The male states as he swiftly stands back up. 

“Who?” The security asks, his eyebrows furrowing in confusion as he looks up at the brunette. 

“Front row, right in front of Nick. They’re wearing matching outfits and one of them has the other held against her chest. Hurry please.” The security quickly nods and hurries over to where you and Liv are. When his eyes land on the two of you, he quickly shouts for you both. 

“Hey, I'm taking you two to the back. Come with me please.” The male informs Liv after locking eyes with her. The female faintly nods and gently pushes your shoulders so she can see your face. 

“Hey, they’re gonna take us to the back. Come on.” Liv says, her left hand gently running up and down your arm in a comforting manner. “Are you big or did you slip?” After you send the female a blank stare with a small pout, Liv sighs gently. “Come on, hun. I’ll help you get over the barricade.” 

Liv carefully sets both her hands on your hips and on the count of three, she helps you get over the barricade. The moment your legs swing over the top railing, the security member grabs onto your arms and helps set you down. The male doesn’t have time to check on you and get back to Liv before the female leaps over the railing. She lands on the hard floor with a hollow thump and takes a moment to dust herself off and adjust her skirt before gently grabbing both of your wrists. 

“Come on you two.” The security says. With a single wave of the hand, the male begins walking to the back, you and Liv following close behind him. The entire walk to the back, the female held you as close as she could, a single arm being kept around your waist. After a while, the loud beats and screams of the crown died down, ultimately lowering your uneasiness. Nonetheless, you were still frightened and tightly clutched onto Liv’s blouse for support. 

“I’m gonna let you guys in this room for the time being. If you need anything, call one of the staff members. There’s already plenty of snacks and beverages in there so help yourselves.” The security says as he begins to unlock a door. After opening it and pushing it wide open, Liv bids the male a soft thank you before guiding you inside. The moment the door shuts behind the two of you, the female lets out a small sigh of relief and pulls you to the sofa. As you plop down on one of the cushions, you gaze over at Liv with a pout. 

“What’s wrong, sweetheart?” The female asks as she sets a gentle hand on your kneecap. At the sight of you rubbing your stomach, Liv nods her head and gets up from the sofa. She takes a glance around the small room and the moment her eyes land on a large tray on the nearby dresser, her eyes light up. She quickly makes her way over to the tray and examines the snack selection for a moment. 

Nuts, health bars, crackers…

When her gaze lands on the stack of fruit snacks and chocolate chip cookies, Liv immediately grabs two packages of each snack with a small smile. She turns on her heels when they’re in her grasp and makes her way over to you. The moment she takes a seat next to you, she sets the packages on your lap. 

“Which one would you like, hun?” Liv asks gently. You force your lips together as you stare down at the snacks. After a moment of ‘pondering,’ you snatch up a pack of the fruit gummies and set them on Liv’s thigh. “Great choice! These are so yummy.” The female picks up the small pack and opens it with one small tug. “Here you go!” 

When she hands you the pack, a large smile appears on your lips, your eyes crinkling slightly. You gently slip the pack off the girl’s hand and stuff your fingers into the small opening. As you silently indulge in your sweet treat, Liv leans back against the back of the sofa and takes her phone out to keep herself busy. 

-One hour later- 

“Yeah, they’re in here.” 

“Alright, thank you so much.” 

At the sound of muffled voices coming from the other side of the door, Liv immediately lifts her head. The moment she turns to look over at the shut door, it opens slowly with a small creeeeak.

The female’s eyes widen in pure shock when Nick pops his head inside the room, a worried expression plastered on his face. When the blonde notices that the girl already has her eyes trained on him, he smiles softly. “Hey, girl! Is it okay if we come in?” Nick asks gently. 

Liv’s mind sputters for a moment, all of her words seeming to be caught in the back of her throat. She takes one glance down at you, who’s settled in her lap and is intently staring at her phone which is playing My Little Pony before she looks back over at Nick. 

“You can come in,” Liv replies, silently cursing herself at the way her voice cracked slightly. Nick sends the female a small smile before he stands upright and gently pushes the door open. He turns around for a moment and waves his hand before walking inside the room. At the sight of Matt and Chris entering shortly after him, Liv’s jaw drops and she quickly clamps a hand over her mouth. 

“Are you two doing alright? Chris told me to get security and have them bring y'all back here.” Matt asks as he gently shuts the door with a soft click. 

“Yeah, we’re fine now. My friend here just had a little episode.” Liv replies with a small head nod. 

“She get too overwhelmed in the crowd? I saw everyone pushing each other and it looked horrible for the people in the front. I tried to get people to calm down but you can only do so much, you know?” Nick asks, a small frown overtaking his features. 

“Yeah, she did. She's usually able to handle concert settings but the crowd today just didn’t sit right with her.” As Nick and Matt gently nod their heads, Chris hesitantly takes a step forward. When he’s able to get a better view of your face, a small smile creeps up onto his lips when he sees you already peering up at him with slightly wide eyes. 

“Hey, kid.” The brunette greets. As you hide your now flushed face behind Liv’s phone, the boy chuckles softly. When his eyes shift over to the open pack of fruit snacks that is discarded near your leg, he carefully picks it up. “You like fruit snacks too?” 

You slowly lower the phone to peer up at Chris before you nod your head. “They’re yummy aren’t they?” 

As the brunette continues to converse with you, Nick and Matt exchange confused looks. “Chris, what the hell are you doing?” 

At Nick’s sudden question, Chris cuts himself off and quickly turns his head to look back at the blonde. After taking a moment to take in the elder's warning look, he replies, “Making her more comfortable. She's a little, right?” 

At the boy’s straightforward question, Liv’s jaw drops. The female shuffles back a little in her spot before eyeing the boy closely and hesitantly replying, “Yeah… How did you figure that out?” 

“I have a friend who’s a little so I kinda have a gist of how they act and such.” Liv hums slowly and intently watches as Chris shifts his focus back to you. “How old are you, angel?” 

You look down at your free hand and stare down at your fingers before holding up three of them and shoving them out in front of you. “Three? You’re very well-behaved for a three-year-old!”

You flash the male a large toothy grin as you force yourself up into a sitting position, both of your hands dropping down onto your lap with a soft plop. You look down at your hands for a moment, getting caught up in gazing at your pastel pink nails before your eyes snap over to Liv's phone which is still open and playing the cartoon you were watching moments ago. In one swift movement, you grab the device and show the screen to Chris. The male jumps slightly at your sudden move however his eyes soften as he watches AppleJack and Rainbow Dash converse on the screen.  

“Woah, I love My Little Pony! Who’s your favorite pony?” The brunette exclaims with a wide smile. You set the phone down on your lap to point at one of your pink nails. “Pinkie?” You rapidly nod your head with a small giggle, your legs kicking out in front of you subconsciously. “She’s a silly one isn’t she?” 

You nod once more and point at Chris, your action causing a confused expression to paint his face. After a moment, what you’re trying to say finally clicks in the boy's head. “My favorite pony is Rainbow! She’s so cool and fast. I would say she’s super cool but I'd be calling Matt super cool and I don't wanna gas him up like that. You know, considering how she plays the guitar in the human world and Matt also plays guitar.”

At the male's statement, Matt narrows his eyes and shoves Chris’s shoulder. You watch the latter stumble a little from the sudden hit with a small giggle. “Did I say something wrong?” Chris asks, a fake hurtful expression flashing across his features as he looks back at the male next to him. 

“Yeah. Watch your mouth.” Matt grumbles in response, his eyes rolling as he turns on his heels and makes his way to the mini fridge in the corner of the room. When the boy is out of earshot, Chris walks up to you and bends down so you’re at eye level. 

“He’s all bark, no bite.” The boy whispers to you, his statement earning yet another giggle from you. 

At the sudden sound of three hollow knocks, the five of you all turn around to face the open door. Your eyebrows furrow in pure confusion when your eyes land on a female leaning against the doorway, both her arms crossed over her chest. “We need to get to the hotel. What are you three doing?” The female asks, a single eyebrow raising as she eyes the band. 

“We’re just checking up on our friends, Laura. They had a little incident during the set and we just wanted to make sure they were alright.” Nick replies with a soft sigh. 

Laura shifts her gaze over to look at you and Liv, her eyes narrowing as she eyes you both. “Oh. Well, they seem fine so let’s go. I seriously don’t want to deal with the receptionist today because we showed up late.” 

“We’ll be there in a minute, Laura. Go wait in the bus.” Matt dismisses the female with a wave of his hand, his eyes staying fixed on the can of Root Beer in his hand. Laura huffs and turns on her heels before walking off. When her footsteps fade, Chris turns around and puts his focus back on you. 

“So, where were we?” The boy asks you with a small smile. You quickly grab Liv’s phone once more and show the brunette the screen again. “Ah, yes! Did you know that Nick’s favorite pony is Rarity? Pretty fitting, huh?” 

“Alright, kid. There’s no need to out me like this.” Nick mumbles as he stuffs his hands in the pocket of his pants. “I think we should wrap things up before Laura starts dragging us to the bus.” 

At the blonde’s suggestion, Chris pouts and looks back at the older male with a pleading expression. “Exchange numbers or something if you want. We need to go kid, come on.” Matt says as he crushes the empty can in his hand. 

Chris sighs softly and looks over at Liv, his pout not faltering as he gazes up at the female. “Can I have her number, please?” 

“Yeah, of course! y/n would be pissed if I said no.” Liv replies with a small chuckle. 

y/n…

“Am I her favorite or something?”. 

“God, yes. She won’t shut the hell up about you sometimes. I swear if I bring up one thing that’s somehow related to you, she would immediately go on a tangent about you. I’ve learned to tread carefully when I say stuff yet she still manages to yap about you.” 

At the female’s statement, Chris looks over at you with a wide, cheeky smile. “How cute are you!” The brunette exclaims. The boy lands a few playful pokes on your side, the small touch drawing small squeals from you. 

After being rushed by Matt, Chris finally gets your number in his phone. The three boys quickly bid you and Liv farewell however before they leave, you quickly get up from your spot on the sofa and rush over to Chris. The brunette looks down at your shy expression and smiles warmly before engulfing you a hug. With a small pat on the head, the boy pulls away from the warm embrace and ruffles your hair before leaving the room. 

“You're whipped aren’t you?” Nick asks the moment the three of them are out of earshot from you and Liv. 

“What? No.” Chris replies with a firm shake of the head. 

“Sure, kid. Sure.” Matt says as he lands a single hand on the younger’s shoulder. Chris looks over at the male and takes in his teasing smile before rolling his eyes. 

The boy was most definitely wrapped around your finger but was he going to come to terms with it? Absolutely not. Well… not right now that is. 

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[vinelark]

do you have comic recs for someone who wants to get into tim and timkon? I read superman comics but your fic made me wanna know more about this character who makes me want to eat metal with how weird and scary he is (affectionate)

hello! and welcome to the “weird scary little guy who makes you want to eat metal” (or perhaps put him in a salad spinner) club

tim has many, many comics, so for the purposes of this i’ll go with some big arcs/series and then some random personal favs

a lonely place of dying (1989): aka tim’s intro, in which 13 y/o tim engages in his favorite pastime (stalking dick grayson), tries to be a family therapist, and somehow ends up in a cape and pointy boots at the end of it.

robin (1993): so much content spanning so many batman plotlines; this is just issue after issue of tim being the most 90s kid to ever 90s kid (and then 00s kid to ever 00s kid). also much of it is written by chuck dixon, who is good at being so homophobic that the characters loop right back around to being queer.

young justice (1998): for both tim and kon (and bart and cassie and the whole yj crew)! also featuring tim and kon both wearing gloves that are way too big for them. no idea what's going on there but it's kind of like when puppies have giant paws they haven't grown into yet.

red robin (2009): THE tim comic to me, partially because marcus to draws most of it (issue 6 on i believe) and the way he draws tim here is peak tim to me, and partially because tim is just balls to the wall bonkers in fucking yonkers the whole series. this spans his brucequest and damian becoming robin (and damian in this is so!! and dick is so!!) while tim takes his shaky next steps. he’s in his messy bitch era but also stuck at 17(?) so that just means he’s randomly making out with sort-of-adversaries on rooftops and thinking longingly of kon and getting fake engaged(??) to a girl he can barely ask on a first date. (it has scant few but still some good timkon moments here and there.) (and speaking of marcus to: this and this.)

a lonely place of living (detective comics) (2017): an arc in which everyone thought tim was dead but surprise! he was just stuck in a pocket dimension prison and now he has to come back and stop gun batman (again). feat. tim being wildly competent from page one. kon is, iirc, currently erased from the timeline but never fear, tim still manages to find a way to think about him.

random/short comics:

WF3: superboy & robin (1996): tim & kon solve a case together in a two-parter that is, as described by a reviewer on its league of comic geeks entry, "…a pretty fun meet cute, I mean team-up…" (basically: see above re: chuck dixon.)

knight terrors: robin (2023): a two-parter in which tim and jason are trapped in a sentient nightmare together. if you like those vibes definitely check out this fic.

nightwing (1996) #25: tim being an annoying little brother is something that can be so personal—

and i've also been enjoying tim in the current zdarsky batman run, especially the recent arc (i believe it starts around #125)!

#i'm sure i left out so many good ones here #also welcoming recs if anyone has more favs #tim drake #timkon #comics #asks #i linked to the comics' dc pages (or one fan wiki page) because googling comic series is such a headache sometimes #so wanted to confirm which ones

[moonshynecybin]

i feel like maïna sent me an ask/prompt about. SOMETHING. like this for forced coming out au genuinely so long ago but i can’t find it for the life of me so perhaps i simply made that up. anyways here’s a short fic set in that universe about them dealing with the panopticon. and in fact being pda whores in the panopticon. bon apetit

“There’s a photographer over there,” Marc whispers in his ear, breath warm and close. He loops his arms around Vale’s neck as he says it, sounding nonchalant, but Vale knows him better than that by now, can see the tension tucked in his shoulders, hidden in the carefully collected smile on his face.

“Hmm.” He replies, amiably, nosing at Marc’s cheek. They’re in the paddock and they’re together— of course there’s a photographer on them. There’s probably seven photographers on them. Par for the course in years past, but especially these last couple of months.

And Vale’s always believed that if people are going to look, he might as well give them a show.

He lifts a hand and flips Marc’s cap off of his head, setting it down backwards so the brims of their hats arent competing. Marc’s face catches the sun, and Vale leans in to kiss where it hits the jut of his cheekbone because he can— because it’s what he would do, if they were actually together. If Marc was a girl. If any of this had happened the way it was supposed to, for people like them.

His stomach clenches, involuntary. He thinks he can hear the click of a camera firing. Good.

“Now he can see me.” Marc complains, leaning closer. He tries to hide behind Vale, using their height difference to squeeze himself into his shadow, and Vale laughs, tugging at where his hair is starting to curl behind his ears, where Marc’s skin is smooth and warm.

“It’s been a few weeks— We should probably give them something to see.”

“It has.” Marc agrees, sneaking his hands down now, snaking them inside Vale’s jacket and under his shirt. “We should.”

Vale yelps, curves his body inward reflexively. They’re like ice.

“That’s cold!” He pulls a face. Camera flash.

Marc ignores him, cackles an evil little laugh into the fabric of Vale’s shirt around his collarbone. Vale lets him, wraps an arm around his shoulders and leans back in, making sure Marc is the only one who can hear. It’s their preferred mode of communication these days— close, edging on the line of plausible deniability. His lips catch on the delicate skin of Marc’s temple as he speaks, and they’re in public, so it’s okay to keep them there.

“Karen from PR asked the next time we are available, so we can, ah, do another date.”

Just a few months ago this would all have felt like a minefield, but when he raises an eyebrow —a question— Marc just nods easily. Understanding without words. They’ve been getting good at this part, after everything, all the press and performance and years on track, years in each other’s beds. In MotoGP, you have to be adaptable, able to read another rider’s move, know how they’re going to take a corner almost before they do— and there’s a reason Marc and him are the best at what they do.

“We’re in Phillip Island next week— do you want to try out that place we went last year?” Marc responds, voice lower a little more reserved. His fingers edge under the elastic of Vale’s waistband. His hands must really be cold.

Vale nods, even as his chest clenches, resentment and something less empowering spiking through him. Last year. Right at the end. Phillip Island.

Not a good memory.

He lays a hand to Marc’s neck, thumb hitting the hinge of his jaw. Tilts him where he wants him. Marc goes— like he always does, moving easily with him, body pliable everywhere but the track. His brown eyes focus in on Vale’s face, intent. Unsettling, if you know how he catalogs information, if you know how what sort of instincts he has on the bike— shoving in beside Vale on track without a thought. Risking a bit more than Vale’s ever been able to comfortably stomach.

But Vale’s always thrived in high pressure situations, under attention, and the way Marc’s eyes laser on him only makes him settle. Makes him sharper. Clearer. Hot danger zipping under his collar, shivery and sweet. He wonders what Marc will let him do, out here in the middle of the paddock, with a photographer on them.

Marc’s hands flex, where they’re pressed under Vale’s shirt, like he can understand what Vale’s thinking, that same uncanny ability to predict a move rising to the surface. His nails scrape a little, dragging along the skin of Vale’s lower back.

“Let’s do that.” Vale says. He doesn’t really remember what were they talking about. A date, he thinks. Marc all to himself.

Alone.

The careful attention of Marc’s eyes drop to his mouth, then once, quick, over his shoulder. The photographer. Right.

The show.

“Okay,” Marc says, eyes searching Vale’s face, uncharacteristically serious. Contemplative. Like he’s thinking about something. Vale raises an an eyebrow, but before he can say anything the look on Marc’s face condenses, and he leans up to kiss Vale sweetly, open and a little messy.

And this has always been the thing that’s worked most between them. Easy and magnetic. The push and pull. The perfect picture.

And then Marc’s pushing forward, deeper, licking into Vale’s mouth. Kiss skewing dirty, dirtier than they usually get nowadays, making Vale’s pulse jump— a dare. How far are you willing to go? it asks, that same impudent instinct he has when he’s diving up the inside of Vale’s race line coloring the kiss, and Vale answers.

His teeth bite at Marc’s bottom lip, exercising a little more control, and he crowds forward, using his height to push Marx’s head back, hand splayed on the edge of his jaw. Directing him, coaxing him. And Marc relaxes like that, back arching into Vale as the kiss extends. A surrender.

Vale’s got him where he wants him, and he doesn’t want to leave. He wants to lift a thigh, get Marc pressed up high and tight against him, wants to drag him off to his motorhome, see how far Marc is willing to let him go, wants to—

Another camera shutters, louder, closer, and it breaks the thread between them, bringing them back to reality. To why they’re here. Vale clears his throat, and Marc ducks his head.

Suddenly Vale’s chest hurts, feels cracked open with Marc tucked up against him, nose edging inside his jacket to find some warmth against Vale’s collarbone. So solid and warm and real. The only way Vale gets to hold him anymore is like this, for the cameras.

Love you, he lets himself think, probably for the first time. Love you, he doesn’t say. The camera shutters, and he pulls Marc closer into the well of his body.

#motogp #callie speaks #forced coming out au #rosquez #my fic #i have another fic in the fire for maina from those prompts a week ish ago it’s just beating my ass

[desceros]

some updates for people so you know where we are here at desceros dot com:

i took the last couple days off of doing anything fandom-related to recollect myself, and i'm in a really good mindspace now thanks to my friends, my partner, and all of you. thank you, thank you, thank you.

i'm really itching to write again, which is super exciting! i have a brief collab that i'm doing with truffle, and i'm also going to be working on the next chapter of symphony. i think it's about time we hear about that history between viola-chan and alopex, don't you? ;)

also, i've got, like, holy shit a lot of messages of support in my inbox over the shitshow that rocked us all a few days ago. i'm not going to answer them because honestly i'm really tired of wasting brain cells on the whole situation and those people don't deserve more of my attention than they've already gotten; but know that i read every single one of them and i really, really, really appreciate everyone understanding my concern, supporting my new boundaries, and sending me such kind words. it really reinforces my thoughts that i made the right decision to stay. this is such a good community, and i'm glad i get to keep you :)

thank you especially to those of you that came off-anon. i won't ask you to do so in the future in order to keep interacting, and i will keep your identities secret, but i really appreciate the gesture of trust. i'm still keeping anon asks open since i know a lot of people are a bit shy, but it means a lot that you were like hey, this is who i am, i'm an adult, breathe easy.

anywho! barring someone hitting me between the eyes with a fic idea, after the next symphony chapter i'm going to be doing the house of leaves-inspired leo fic. that one's going to be really fun to write, and the people i've told little details about it have started vibrating enough to power a small country, so i think everyone's going to find it really interesting!! should be another symphony chapter after that, and then i'd like to do the leo fic for the dayjob au. that one is... well. teehee. :)

okay, that should give everyone an idea of where i am on working on things. i look forward to sharing all of it with you!! :D

#text tag #anyway. back to your scheduled desceros experience of turtle art text posts and deranged purple and or blue posting

[burnednotburied]

Chapter 5: The Aquarium

AO3 Link | Chapter 4 Link

Pairing: Abby Anderson x fem!reader

Fic Synopsis: Abby goes looking for Owen and ends up on the wrong end of your knife.

Tags/CWs: angst; slowburn; enemies to friends to lovers; talks of purity culture/ideals and “sin”; internalized homophobia and some comp-het feelings (they’re both so gay but so dumb about it); animosity between WLF and Seraphites; blood/gore; descriptions of being hanged; religious/cult-like ideas; sorry (but not that sorry) to any Owen fans, but he’s kinda a huge asshole in this

Note: I added chapter titles and finally figured out exactly where I’m going with this story lol. Hooray for having a plan!!

(Sorry it took more than two weeks to get this chapter out! End-of-semester craziness, ya know? I hope this chapter being like twice as long as usual makes up for it!)

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Abby realized too late that she probably should’ve warned you about the life-sized whales on the ceiling.

By the look on your face, she could tell you’ve never seen anything like it.

Which made sense. She hadn’t either before she and Owen found this place three years ago.

She paused to watch you for just a second, taking in your amazed expression as you marveled at the enormous hanging sea creatures above you.

Abby could easily remember what her first time here was like. How incredible and other-worldly this place felt. She imagined it must be even more overwhelming for you, this fractured piece of a world you were not a part of and knew little about. A world where humans built a place where they could go to look at fish for no reason other than that it was entertaining. A world where people did things just for fun.

Of course, Abby had also never been a part of that world, but at least she knew about it. She’d caught glimpses of it, carefully and intentionally gathering bits and pieces. She watched films and documentaries. She read novels and history books, newspapers and magazines if she could find them.

Knowledge was power. And, to Abby, having power was important. Having power meant being able to keep the people she cared about safe.

And if you had enough power, no one could ever take it away from you.

So she dedicated herself to becoming powerful, both of mind and of body. It’s all she had known and cared about since she lost her dad.

It’s why she lost Owen.

She still wasn’t sure if that had been a good thing or a bad thing, but she knew she felt guilty about it.

Three years ago, Owen had quickly claimed the aquarium as his own. He cleaned it up, made it feel as homey as possible, and spent as much time here as he could get away with. Abby didn’t tell anyone, not even the rest of the Salt Lake crew. It was right around the time they were breaking up. She felt like she owed him her discretion at the very least. Not that it really made up for anything.

Yesterday morning, when Nora told Abby that Owen was missing, she assumed he’d come here.

God, she hoped she was right.

Abby shifted the injured Yara in her arms, her muscles burning from carrying the girl for so long.

It was early in the morning now. The sun had just begun to rise as the four of you had been making your way into the aquarium.

“Owen!” she shouted, leading the way down one of the hallways off the main entrance. Abby thought he would most likely be out on the boat, either sleeping or continuing in his never-ending attempts to get the thing in working order.

“Owen!” she called out again. “Owen! Are you here?”

She paused for a moment, listening. Nothing.

“Owen—”

“I’m here.” She heard his voice just before he rounded the corner, stopping short when he saw the whole group of you. “Are those Scars?” he asked, genuinely surprised and definitely confused as hell.

Abby ignored the question. “I need whatever medical supplies you have.”

Before Owen could respond, Alice came barreling around the corner, barking aggressively at the perceived enemies.

The next few seconds were chaotic to say the least.

You screamed and jumped back. Lev reacted quickly, his bow drawn and an arrow notched.

“Alice, no!” Abby yelled out.

Owen grabbed for the German Shepherd, holding her back as she continued to lunge forward, trying to attack.

“Put the bow down! It’s okay!” Abby shouted.

Owen gripped the dog’s harness tightly. “Put that down!”

“Alice, shut up! Lev, put the bow down!”

“Alice, stop—Abby, what the fuck?!”

“Lev, listen to them! Put it down!” you insisted, putting a hand on his shoulder as you tried to push him behind you.

All of this happened simultaneously, muffled by the sound of deafening, echoing barking.

“Alice!” a new voice, one that Abby knew belonged to Mel, shouted. To her, the dog listened, sitting down obediently with one final bark.

Mel stood next to Owen and Alice, staring.

There was a moment of silence.

Abby turned to the young boy. “Lev, lower the bow. It’s okay.”

Reluctantly, he listened.

“Abby, who are these people?” Mel asked.

“They saved my life,” she said, hoping that would be enough of an answer for now. “Can you take a look at her?” Abby looked down at Yara, who seemed to be barely conscious in her arms.

Mel dropped a hand on Alice’s head, instructing her to stay, as she slowly stepped closer, eyeing you and Lev cautiously.

“This is Yara,” Abby said before nodding over to the kid at her right, “That’s Lev. And that’s—” She stopped short. She wasn’t about to introduce you to them as Prophet.

Behind her, you spoke, offering up your name. Abby and Lev’s eyes both swung to you, widening for two entirely different reasons.

Abby’s because she was hearing your name for the first time. It was your name. It was like she discovered a brand new piece to this puzzle she had been frantically trying to assemble since the moment she saw you.

She wasn’t sure why Lev looked shocked, but it seemed like a big deal, for you to use your name in place of the title that had been forced upon you by the other Scars.

Abby quietly repeated the name, committing it to memory.

Mel gave a small nod, unaware of the mini revelation that was happening right in front of her, instead focusing on Yara with a concerned look on her face.

“What did this?” she asked, looking down at the girl’s mangled arm.

“A hammer,” you said, stepping forward until you were standing right next to Abby.

“It wasn’t me,” Abby quickly added. Guilty, despite her innocence. She was ashamed that she needed to make that clarification. Worried about what you would think about it.  

Mel hesitated, regarding each of the Scars one by one again before sighing. “Alright. Let’s lay her down.”

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The pregnant woman—clearly someone Abby knew but wasn’t exactly friendly with—decided that Yara had compartment syndrome, which apparently meant they would have to cut her arm off.

While everyone else argued about the best way to accomplish that task, you stood off to the side, feeling sick. If you had been able to stop Emily’s men last night, this wouldn’t be happening.

It shouldn’t be happening.

Yara was going to lose her arm or die because you failed her.

You were trying not to spiral. Trying to be helpful now. (Too little, too late.) Trying to pay attention to the Wolves’ conversation.

They didn’t have the supplies they needed to perform the amputation safely. Yara didn’t have time to wait the couple days it would take Abby to travel all the way to the hospital and back.

“What if we could get you there in two hours?” Lev asked, hands grasping the metal table where Yara laid in the center of the room. “The Wolf hospital, right? On the west side?”

The man—Owen—stood, interested. “How?”

“The bridges,” you said, realizing what Lev was getting at. All eyes turned to you. “Our people built them. High up.”

Lev nodded. “It’s how we get around the flooding. And… you people.”

After a quiet moment, Abby stepped forward. “Can she handle two hours?”

The woman considered this, her hand comfortingly placed on Yara’s shoulder. “Probably, yeah.”

Abby nodded. “Then make a list of what you need.”

Owen stepped closer, joining the circle the rest of you had formed around Yara. “Wait. Are you serious? Abby, these bridges are used by Scars.”

The fact that he was arguing against the plan frustrated you. Yara didn’t have time for this.

“They only send in small groups at a time,” Lev said.

“You heard that? Small groups.” Abby said, watching as the other woman jotted down the supplies on a loose piece of paper and handed it over.

“This isn’t a joke.” Owen looked only at Abby, trying to catch her eyes. She seemed to be actively avoiding making contact.

Instead, she turned to you and said your name, followed by, “Let’s go.”

You looked up at her, at a loss for words. It was sad that something as simple as hearing your name could have this effect on you, but it had been eight years since you’d heard it… And this was already the second time Abby had said it.

You wanted to turn and walk right out the door with her, happy to follow her anywhere, but reality set it.

“I can’t,” you said. “I don’t know where the hospital is. And I don’t know our bridges well enough to guide you. It will have to be Lev.” It looked like Abby might argue with you, or at least tell you to come with them.

You wanted to. The idea of letting Lev go back out into danger without you made you sick with worry. But, foolish as it may seem, you trusted Abby to look out for him. And you didn’t understand these other Wolves and the strange dynamic at play here. You certainly didn’t trust them to be alone with Yara.

“Someone needs to stay with her,” you said, holding Abby’s gaze.

She nodded, grabbing her backpack off the floor. “Alright. Lev.”

He looked to you, taking your hand in his. The group splitting up must’ve felt wrong to him, too.

Almost on instinct, you did what you had been trained to do. You offered a bit of comfort.

“May She guide you,” you said quietly, giving him a small, encouraging smile as you squeezed his one hand between both of yours.

The words were familiar to you both, a common Seraphite mantra. He reciprocated your tight grasp and finished the line, “May She protect you.”

When you released his hand, he placed it on Yara’s shoulder, as if to tell her goodbye as well. She was unresponsive.

You felt a hand fall on your own shoulder and looked up to find that it was Abby. She nodded her head to the opposite end of the room, impatiently taking your wrist in her hand and leading you over there when you didn’t immediately catch her meaning.

She didn’t let go.

Abby stood close, speaking quietly so that no one else could hear. “We’ll be back as soon as possible. Yara’s going to be fine, okay. And I’ll keep Lev safe.”

You couldn’t help the slight upward curve of your lips. “I know,” you said. “I trust you.”

She blinked, caught off guard, but continued. “I wouldn’t mention the whole you-being-the-Prophet thing to Owen and Mel if I were you.”

“I’m not a prophet,” you deadpanned.

She let out an exasperated breath. “Okay, sure. Well I wouldn’t tell them that the Scars think—”

“Seraphites,” you interjected.

“—Seraphites—Just… you get the point. Don’t mention it, okay?”

“What if they ask questions?”

“Dodge them. Be vague.”

“You don’t trust your friends?” you asked, more serious now.

“No,” Abby said. “Not with you.”

You couldn’t begin to guess what she meant by that.

“I trust them… for the most part.” She glanced at them over your shoulder before meeting your eyes again. “I just don’t know how they would react to that information. It’s not exactly a small thing. I don’t know what they would do with it.”

You looked at her for while longer, then nodded your head. “Okay. I won’t say anything.”

“Abby?” the man’s voice came from behind you.

She let go of your wrist immediately, as if she had been caught doing something she wasn’t supposed to.

You turned around to find the woman—Mel—and Owen both looking at you like they were witnessing something truly insane, instead of just two people having a conversation.

Lev stood on his own by the door, shifting his weight from one foot to the other, eager to get moving.

From behind you, you felt Abby’s hand wrap around your wrist again, squeezing lightly and then letting go.

“We’ll be back,” she said, this time at a normal volume. She joined Lev by the door, opening it and leading the way out.

“Abby!” Owen said again, moving to follow them out.

Mel groaned, frustrated. “God! Owen, just let them go.” When he ignored her, she went after him, the door slamming loudly behind her.

You stayed behind with Yara.

She was blinking slowly, barely awake, her shallow breaths too few and far between for your liking. You felt helpless, knowing there wasn’t much you could do other than sit and wait.

You pulled up a chair.

Just outside the door, the two Wolves were arguing. Although, you only caught bits and pieces of it.

Something about Abby and Scars and a cloak… Something about someone who looked like she just stepped out of The Lord of the Rings. You didn’t know what that meant, but it was clear they were talking about you.

Again, you unfastened the cloak and freed yourself of your top layer. Whether that was due to embarrassment or a sudden recognition of the uncomfortable warmth of the room, you couldn’t tell.

“Did you see how she was looking at her?” “Owen, why do you care? Why does it matter to you?” you heard through the door.

The dynamic here was becoming more and more confusing.

You’d assumed that Owen was the father of Mel’s child, just because they seemed to live here together. But that didn’t explain Mel’s rather apparent unfavorable opinion of Abby. And it definitely didn’t explain Owen’s preoccupation with Abby.

Their conversation continued for several minutes, volume rising and falling periodically. There wasn’t much you understood and even less of it seemed important or interesting to you.

Eventually, the door swung open again, making you jump in your seat. Mel reentered the room, offering you a strained smile as she checked on Yara. You quietly watched her work.

“There’s not much we can do for her until Abby and your friend get back,” she said to you, eyes still focused on Yara. “If you want, I can get you set up with a place to sleep while we wait.”

“No,” you said, too quickly to be polite. “…Thank you. I’ll stay with Yara.”

Mel pulled her lips into a tight line and nodded, leaving the room again. She came back a few minutes later with water and a shiny red apple, offering them up for you to take.

“Sorry. I know it’s not much. Owen isn’t well-stocked on food right now,” she said after you’d accepted the snack.

You smiled. “Thank you. You’re very kind to be helping us at all.”

Mel didn’t really answer, instead gesturing to the door as she walked toward it. “Well, we’ll… be around. If you need anything. And I’ll come in and check on her periodically.”

You nodded, quietly thanking her again. The discarded cloak that you’d left on a table by the door caught your eye. “Oh. Wait.”

She turned to face you again, eyebrows raised in question.

“What is The Lord of the Rings?” you asked.

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An excursion that was supposed to take two hours ended up taking nearly all day.

But hey, Abby had done the best she could.

She faced her deeply-rooted fear of heights on that sorry excuse for a bridge. She fought off Infected and Scars. She was, let’s say, detained by her fellow WLF soldiers at the hospital. And then she had to fight and kill what must’ve been the biggest, gnarliest, freakiest blob of cordyceps infection to ever exist.

She barely got out of there alive, but she managed to leave with the medical supplies in hand. Plus tons of new material for her future nightmares.

Mel had started operating as soon as they got back to the aquarium, with Owen assisting her.

You and Lev sat just outside the door the entire time.

The surgery had gone well. Yara was doing okay, all things considered.

After, Owen handed Abby a pile of sleeping bags and blankets and walked off without saying a word.

Abby handed them off to you and carefully lifted Yara again, this time to move her to a more comfortable spot to rest. She led the way to the next room, you and Lev trailing behind.

There was a long couch in the new room. You motioned for Lev to lay down on one end while Abby set Yara down on the other.

She stepped back and watched, amused, as you fussed over the two of them for a few minutes, using most of the blankets on your young friends.

When you were sure they were both as comfortable as possible, you left them to rest and walked back over to Abby. In your arms, you held the two sleeping bags that you hadn’t used on the kids.

You offered one of them to her.

She shook her head, motioning to the space on the floor in front of the couch where there was an old, worn-out rug.

“Lay mine out for me? I have to go do something before I go to sleep.”

“You’re leaving?” you asked, looking concerned.

“I just need to talk to Owen. I’ll be right back.”

You studied her face, like you were trying to figure out whether or not she was being truthful.

Abby doubled down, pointing again. “Go. Get some sleep. I’ll be back.”

You sighed but went where she had pointed and began laying out the two sleeping bags.

One for you. One for her. Right next to each other on the floor.

You had been doing a good job of hiding it, but Abby could tell you were exhausted. She couldn’t blame you. Hell, she was exhausted. And the sooner she touched base with Owen, the sooner she could come back.

She turned and went out to track him down.

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You didn’t know what was wrong with you.

You had been awake for almost forty-eight hours, but you couldn’t fall asleep. Your mind was racing. Filled with worry for Yara, concern about her condition, guilt for having been unable to prevent the injury from happening in the first place. Thoughts of your own people hunting your friends with the intent to kill them. Fear that, despite your desire to keep them safe, your lack of knowledge and experience in the world outside of Haven would make that impossible.

You thought about the woman you killed yesterday. How she’d so tenderly and earnestly called you her Prophet just moments before you snuck up behind her and ended her life.

You wondered if you too were now an apostate. If the Seraphites had found the bodies of Emily and her men and assumed you were dead, or if they somehow knew that you betrayed them all the very moment you were given the chance.

You wondered if your mother knew what you had done. If she would be punished for your sins.

You thought about Abby, hoping that your faith in her was not misplaced. Hoping that your attraction to her hadn’t clouded your judgment.

This was crazy. All of it. It was too much.

You had tossed everything and everyone you’ve ever known aside, thrown the first twenty years of your life to the wind like it meant nothing at all, and run off into the forest with a Wolf without a second thought. And now that you, Yara, and Lev were finally (seemingly) not in immediate danger, you had time to think things through. Contemplate what you’d done and try to figure out where it left you.

By your own hand, your life had been irreparably changed forever. It was done. There was no undoing it. No going back.

You would stay with Lev and Yara. You would stay with Abby if that’s what she wanted.

But where would you go? It wasn’t safe for any of you to stay here.

That wasn’t a question you could answer. You didn’t know of anywhere else. You wouldn’t know how to find a place that was safe.

All of these thoughts bombarded your mind at once, taking turns at the forefront. Contradicting emotions swirled, adding to the chaos.

There was a sadness, a sense of loss for the people you had always belonged to.

Guilt and shame. Two feelings that were not at all foreign to you, but you had never felt as strongly as you did now.

A lightness. A happiness. Almost a thrill. A hopeful nervousness for the freedom you had claimed for yourself, the agency you had uncovered, and the possibility of what was to come.

Sadness, again, for the mother you would miss, and the realization that you had already been missing her for a very long time.

Frustration—simmering anger—for your childhood that was stolen and the shame that did not originate within yourself. The unrelenting voices that lived in your head, weighing in on every thought and critiquing every action. But those voices were not your own. You would take your dagger and cut their presence from your mind, carefully carving them out of your head and disposing of them yourself if you could.

And, amongst everything else taking up space inside of you, demanding your attention, it felt stupid and frivolous and wasteful, but you couldn’t keep Abby from your thoughts. She kept appearing, in the middle of it all. This was something that you truly did not have time for and should not be putting energy toward.

But you had never felt intrinsically drawn to someone in the way you were drawn to her…

Behind you, you could hear slow, heavy breaths coming from either end of the couch. You were glad that Lev and Yara were getting some rest. You’d do your best to make sure they got their fill of it this time.

You got up quietly, trying not to disturb them but feeling like you needed to move. You shook out your arms, rolled your neck around, wiggled your fingers, stretched your legs.

Honestly, you wanted run. Or hit something. Or scream. Loudly and for a long time. Until you ran out of air and your voice was ragged.

But you didn’t do any of those things.

Instead, you went to look for Abby.

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“Seriously? You’re telling me Isaac’s top Scar killer just… turned over a new leaf? Decided to befriend and help three Scars?” Mel was staring into Abby’s soul, her words dripping in disbelief.

Abby had found her and Owen upstairs, in the same room that had once housed the boat man’s skeleton and the couple’s Christmas stockings (not at the same time, of course).

Owen was angry. Exactly what she had done to earn his anger, she couldn’t say. He held a jar of his homemade moonshine. A jar that was somewhere between three-quarters and one half full. Abby assumed it had been filled to the top just a few minutes ago.

He had apparently decided to be a silent, brooding drunk tonight, so Mel had been the one to interrogate her.

Abby tried to explain everything, albeit keeping things pretty vague. She didn’t want to give them too much information about you specifically, and she didn’t want them to get the wrong idea about you, so she made sure to omit the part where you nearly gutted her. And the part where you were the new Scar Prophet that Isaac was after.

Mel wasn’t buying the part where Abby simply had a change of heart.

She shot Owen a cautious look before she said, “Abby, do you—I thought you might—Is it possible that you’re…” Mel stopped, gathering her thoughts, trying to find the best way to word it. “It’s not… like… a problem that she’s a woman. It’s just… it is kind of a big deal that she’s a Scar—”

“Abby isn’t into a fucking Scar,” Owen interjected, his knuckles white around the mouth of the jar. “And she’s not fucking gay.”

Then he started chugging the jar’s contents, forcing down swallow after painful swallow.

The women were both silent for a second, surprised by the anger in his words.

Abby didn’t know what to say. She knew she was into you—and she’d be lying if she said that wasn’t at least part of the reason why she was helping you and your friends—but she had never considered if that made her gay.

She honestly didn’t really care to label herself as anything either way. It felt stupid—in the honest-to-god post-apocalyptic hellscape that they lived in, where they had been engaged in a never-ending war since they were kids—to care about that kind of thing.

Why should it matter—when her family was dead, her friends were constantly in danger, and there were enemies closing in from every angle—if she was romantically or sexually interested in men or women or both? Wasn’t that almost guaranteed to be the least important detail at any given moment? And why should she waste any of her time or energy trying to define herself in that way?

This was all really new to her. She hadn’t really let herself be interested in anyone since Owen, and she honestly wasn’t sure if she had ever been into him for the right reasons. Again, she remembered how uncomfortable it made her feel to kiss him, to be touched by him…

She couldn’t imagine that it would feel like that if you touched her. And just the fact that she hoped one day she’d find out was probably telling enough.

So maybe, in the Old World, people would’ve called Abby a lesbian. Maybe she would’ve identified with that title if things were different, if her life was lower stakes, and if she’d had more time to explore herself and her interests.

What-ifs didn’t matter. What mattered was that she was here now. You were with her—and she needed to figure out a plan of how to proceed from here—so she could make sure to keep it that way.  She could figure out the rest later.

Mel was the first to speak, annoyed, but addressing him calmly, like she was talking to a rabid animal. “Owen—”

He didn’t even let her get a word in.

“No. This is bullshit! Abby—” He looked past Mel to meet Abby’s gaze, insistent. “I’m going to Santa Barbara to find the Fireflies. If you’re smart, you’ll ditch the Scars and come with me.”

Mel slammed her hands on the table, causing both Abby and Owen to jump. “What the hell do you mean, you’re going to Santa Barbara?! We are going to Santa Barbara!” They weren’t used to seeing violent outbursts from Mel. She was the queen of passive aggression, but she rarely lost her cool. “What is wrong with you, Owen? Seriously, what the hell is wrong with you? This is all so seriously fucked up.” She turned away from them, clenching her fists at her sides, looking like she might cry. Or hit something. Or both.

But for the first time in years, Abby wasn’t on the receiving end of her disdain.

Guess all she had to do for her old friend to stop seeing her as a threat was get entangled with the Scar Prophet. No big deal.

Owen, in a moment of clarity, seemed to realize how huge of an asshole he was being to the mother of his child. He set down his jar, stood, and walked over to Mel, putting his hands on her hips and pulling her into him, her back pressed against his front. He was swaying on his feet, his cheeks flushed, hands clumsy. If he hadn’t been drunk before, he definitely was now. “Hey, I didn’t mean it like that. We are going to Santa Barbara. Of course it’s we. Hell, the Scars can come too for all I care. We’ll make it a party.”

Abby rolled her eyes at his quick switch-up and turned to go. Clearly this conversation wasn’t going anywhere productive tonight, with Owen drunk, Mel upset, and all of them exhausted beyond belief.

There was a creak by the door, and all three of them turned to look, Owen’s reaction far more delayed than Abby and Mel’s.

You stood there in your long white dress, hesitant to come in. Shy, having clearly interrupted a tense conversation.

Abby wondered how long you’d been standing there unnoticed. Her instinct was to meet you in the doorway and take you back to bed, away from Owen’s rude drunkenness and Mel’s inquisitive eyes.

“Hey! Scar! How the hell are ya? Come join us! We were just talking about sunny California. Ever been?” Owen pulled away from Mel and plopped back down on the couch, finding his jar again.

“Umm…” You looked to Abby for guidance, but she was just as unsettled as you. “No. I haven’t… Sorry, I was just looking for Abby.”

“Yeah, I bet you were,” he mumbled under his breath. Abby wasn’t sure if you caught that, but she wasn’t interested in having you hear any more of this.

“Let’s just go,” she said to you, moving toward where you still stood in the doorway.

“No! Come! Sit! Let’s talk,” Owen insisted, slapping the spot next to him on the couch.

You gave Abby another hesitant look before walking past her to join Owen. Mel sighed and lowered herself into a nearby chair. When it became clear to her that retreating with you wasn’t an option right now, Abby walked back over. She stood right across from the couch so she could see you, leaned against the wall behind her with her arms crossed over her chest.

You sat next to Owen, although not so close, putting as much distance between you as possible.

“Atta girl,” he chuckled. Abby wanted to punch him.

All of this was out of character for Owen, but she knew that he was always kind of unpredictable when he got drunk. With everything that had happened and emotions running so high, everyone really should just be going to sleep.

With that in mind, Abby would continue to stand nearby until you were ready to leave. She wouldn’t let things get out of hand.

“So… Scar—”

“Seraphite,” Abby corrected him. He scoffed and took another swig.

You smiled softly at her, looking grateful.

“Scar,” he said again. “Can I perhaps interest you in some hooch? Made it myself.” He offered up the jar for you to take, tilting it towards you with unsteady hands.

“No,” Abby immediately answered on your behalf. “She does not want any of your hooch.”

“Well give the girl a chance to answer,” he slurred. “What? Your little girlfriend can’t speak for herself? She can’t make her own decisions?”

You glanced back and forth between him and her, reaching for the open jar of clear liquid, properly baited by his taunting words.

Abby tried to remember that Owen was her friend—her best friend—and that he wasn’t usually like this.

“What is… hooch?” you asked, staring down into the glass jar suspiciously.

“It’s moonshine,” Abby said. When that didn’t clear things up for you, she added, “Alcohol.”

“Like wine?” you asked, tentatively sniffing it.

Owen laughed. Abby nodded, “Kind of, but it’s much stronger. Seriously, you won’t like it.”

There was a flash of something that looked like defiance in your eyes, offense taken at the idea that you wouldn’t be able to handle something that others could.

You put the jar to your lips and tilted it back enough to take in a generous mouthful.

Abby watched as your eyes went wide and you struggled to swallow it. Honestly, she was impressed that you didn’t immediately spit it out. You managed to choke it down before breaking out in a harsh coughing fit.

Owen laughed, accepting the jar as you shoved it back into his hands. Your eyes watered as you tapped on your sternum, taking a second to regain the ability to speak.

“You made that?” you wheezed in disbelief.

“Yep!”

“On purpose?”

Abby laughed at that, leaning back against the wall again once she was convinced that you weren’t dying.

“Hey, that’s prime hooch! You should be thanking me right now.” Owen took his own swig of it, lounging back against the couch with his arm resting along the back.

“Thank you?” You squinted your eyes but tried to be polite.

“I was kidding, princess. You don’t have to thank me.”

Abby, again, resisted the urge to punch him in the face.

“So,” Owen began, “tell me. How is it that you’re a Scar… but you’re not scarred?” He chuckled to himself, as if he had made a joke.

Your eyes shot to meet Abby’s, clearly unprepared to answer that question.

“Not every Seraphite has facial scars,” you said, keeping things vague.

“Every Scar I’ve ever seen does.”

“You’ve seen me, haven’t you?” you shot back.

Abby let out a surprised laugh. Owen clenched his jaw.

“Every Scar has face scars. It’s like your defining thing. It’s why we call you Scars.” He was adamant, unyielding. And the playful mask was starting to slip back into anger. Abby could tell this wasn’t going to end well.

“Well I guess you don’t know as much about Seraphites as you thought you did.” You were frustrated now, pressing yourself further into the far end of the couch to put more distance between the two of you.

Owen opened his mouth with a rebuttal, but Abby jumped in. “Lay off, Owen.”

He threw his hands up in surrender, leaning back against the brown cushions. “Fine, fine. Whatever. Forgive me for having questions. Fuck me, I guess. I’ve just never seen a hot Scar befo—”

Before he could finish the sentence, Mel was on her feet. “Alright. That’s it. You’re done.” She had been sitting silently up until then, ready to intervene if things got out of hand, just as Abby had been. Apparently, Owen calling you hot was where she drew the line.

Abby was glad Mel was saying something. Because if things had gone much further, she really might’ve hit him.

“Get up,” Mel instructed firmly, standing over him. “You’re going to bed.” He let her take the jar out of his hands and, with much effort, pushed himself up off the couch and started walking toward the door. Mel was right behind him, hands hovering on either of his sides in case he lost his balance. He was grumbling under his breath the whole way, like a toddler whose bedtime was being enforced.

Abby watched them go.

Once they were out of sight, she looked down at you, only to find that you were already looking at her.

“Sorry,” she spat out. “About him. He’s not usually like that.”

You nodded, but you didn’t seem sure that you believed her.

“So you guys are… friends?”

Abby cleared her throat. “Uh, yeah. We’ve known each other for years. Joined the WLF together. Me, Owen, Mel, and a few others.”

You considered this for a second before responding. “Where were you before?”

“Salt Lake City,” she said, looking down at her feet. “Utah.” Abby didn’t know if that would mean anything to you.

“Mel doesn’t seem to like you very much,” you said, observant, not trying to offend. Abby smiled, despite the meaning behind your words. You added, “And Owen doesn’t seem to like me.” You stated it like it was a fact, like it was neither good nor bad, just true.

“He’ll get over it. He’s just drunk.” Abby didn’t know if that was true, but she wanted to comfort you in that moment, not that you actually seemed to care all that much about Owen’s opinion of you.

“Can I ask you a question?” You were looking up at her, eyes wide and vulnerable.

Anything, Abby thought. Out loud, she said, “Sure.”

She pushed away from the wall and came to sit next to you on the couch, filling the spot where Owen had been.

“Why do you people keep calling me princess?” you asked. Abby laughed quietly under her breath, turning her body to face you.

“I don’t know. There’s something about you that’s very princess-like I guess.”

You made a face at her. She smiled wider.

“It’s not a bad thing. You just come across as soft. Delicate. I don’t know… Graceful.”

“I am not delicate,” you said, defensive.

“I know.”

“I’ve killed.”

“I saw.” Abby was being serious, although she did find the conversation amusing. “You’re very skilled with a knife.”

You nodded, satisfied with her response, and fully turned to face Abby. “And what does hot mean? Why did he call me hot?”

“Oh—” Abby stuttered, “Uh—He meant… He was saying that you’re very pretty.”

“Oh.” You considered this, eyes wandering away. “Earlier he said I look like The Lord of the Rings.”

Abby smiled again. There was something about you that felt like it might’ve been taken straight from the high fantasy genre.

“Do you know what that is?” she asked.

“Yes. Sort of. I asked Mel. She said it was a film about a magical land. With fairies and stuff.”

“They were books first.”

“Have you read them?”

“Yeah.”

“Have you read a lot of books?” you asked, genuinely curious.

“I try to read as much as I can. Whatever’s available.”

You nodded, thinking, letting the conversation die down.

After a moment, “Abby?”

“Hmm?” she hummed. She liked the way you said her name. Just the sound of it made her heart beat a little bit faster.

“Owen also called me your girlfriend.” You were studying her face, trying to read her reaction.

“Yeah. He did.” Abby said, looking into your inquisitive eyes.

“Does that just mean friend? Or is it something else?”

“He was just trying to piss me off.”

“So it does mean something else?” Your eyes were on her lips now, and you were ever so slightly leaned forward. Almost subconsciously.

“It doesn’t matter,” Abby said. “It doesn’t mean anything.”

She was pushing you away, and she didn’t know why. She could’ve answered that question so differently. Maybe she should’ve.

Abby wanted you. And she was almost certain that you felt the same way. At the very least, there was a curiosity. A hesitant attraction.

But she couldn’t shake the feeling that it was wrong. That anything with you would be something she wasn’t good enough for.

Something she didn’t deserve.

Something she would ruin if given the chance.

So tonight, she didn’t give herself that chance.

Was that noble or cowardly? She wasn’t sure.

You pulled away, turning to face forward as you let out a long breath, puffing out your cheeks.

“I’m tired,” you said, standing. “And I should check on Yara and Lev.”

“Yeah.” Abby nodded. “Okay.”

She remained in place, ready to mentally beat herself up some more and stew in her thoughts alone for a while.

You cleared your throat lightly, swaying on your feet. “Umm… I’m not sure that I can find my way back to the room. Can you… please—?”

“Oh.” Abby hopped to her feet. “Okay, yeah. I’ll… I guess I’ll go with you.”

She avoided eye contact, leading the way into the dark hallway.

#the wolf and the prophet #my writing #abby anderson #abby anderson x fem!reader #abby anderson x reader #abby x fem!reader #abby x reader #abby tlou #tlou2 #abby anderson fanfic #abby anderson fic

[widowsistersandfriends]

The Proposal

Request:

hey hi hello! ☺️

Maybe you can write some natasha and reader gf story?

For example, how nat proposes to the reader, the wedding etc.

All of it with a lot od tickles and happiness ofc 🤍.

Good luck!

Note: Thank you so much for this wonderful request! I had a lot of fun writing it and it was a very creative idea! Enjoy!! :)

Warnings: This fic has kissing in it and tickles. Please do not read if you are not comfortable with this

Word Count: 2126

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

Your girlfriend Natasha was everything you had ever dreamed of. She was strong, witty, beautiful, and best of all…dominant. You guys had been dating for 3 years now, and there was no doubt in your mind that she was your endgame. 

However, you never quite knew what she was feeling or thinking. You knew that she loved you more than anyone besides her sister Yelena, and that she cared for you immensely. You just weren’t sure if she was ready to commit. There was always some seed of doubt planted in your mind that you weren’t good enough. Maybe you were just an overthinker…

Today was the day of your 3 year anniversary. You weren’t sure if she had planned anything and you weren’t sure what to expect. You had bought a gift for her already and you were planning on when to give it to her.

Early that afternoon you got a text from Yelena asking you to go with her to get a manicure. You found it a bit odd since Yelena wasn’t the type to get manicures, but you agreed and got ready to go out. 

“Where are you going?” Natasha asked curiously.

You paused, not knowing if she already knew where you were going. She was a spy after all. 

“I’m just going out to get something…” you said, your answer falling flat as Natasha smirked at you.

“Enjoy your manicure,” Natasha said, as your mouth opened with disbelief. 

“How did you know?” You asked, eyeing her suspiciously. 

“I know everything,” Natasha said cockily. 

You rolled your eyes with a huff, now leaving for your manicure with the blonde.

“What took you so long?” Yelena asked as you arrived.

“Sorry, I got stuck in traffic,” you complained.

“Anyway, what color are you getting?” Yelena asked.

“I want something bold,” you stated, looking at the reds and blues.

“Yeah I wouldn’t go for something light-colored,” Yelena commented.

“Why is that?” You asked suddenly.

Yelena pursed her lips slightly, thinking quickly.

“Well, you know, you want to stand out, don’t you?” Yelena asked.

“I guess so…?” You said with uncertainty.

“C’mon let’s get these nails done,” Yelena rushed.

“Are you getting a pedicure?” You teasingly asked Yelena, knowing that she was too ticklish for one.

“Are you?” Yelena responded back.

You glanced at your feet knowing that they were too ticklish as well.

“That’s what I thought,” Yelena said triumphantly. 

After the manicures, you and Yelena stopped at a nearby food court for a light snack. What you didn’t know was that during this time, Natasha was planning something big.

You admired your royal blue nails as you sipped a lemonade and took a fry from the basket between you two.

“So what are your plans tonight?” Yelena asked.

“Well, I got your sister a gift but I’m not sure what else we’re doing,” you responded.

Yelena wiggled her eyebrows at you, hinting that Natasha was gonna do something naughty. You rolled your eyes and threw a balled up napkin at her as she laughed at your reaction.

You got home around 4:00 pm, and Natasha was right where you left her.

“Have fun?” Your girlfriend asked.

You nodded and told her about how it went.

“Good color choice,” Natasha commented, glancing up at you to see if you knew.

You eyed her for a bit before asking if you guys were doing something.

“Well, I have a reservation for two tonight at a fancy restaurant on the beach,” Natasha said casually.

“Am I the second person in that reservation?” You asked jokingly, which caused the redhead to pull you into her lap and trap you with one arm, while tickling your sides and stomach with the other.

“NAHAHAT STAHAHAP,” you squealed, trying to wiggle out of her grip.

“Are you gonna stop being a cheeky brat?” Natasha asked, working her fingers up your ribs, causing you to panic.

“I DOHONT KNOHOHOW MAYBE YOU HAHAHAVE A MISTRESS,” you responded through your laughs, as you squealed when she used her fingers to dig into your armpit.

Natasha just shook her head as she continued to tickle torture you and you eventually pleaded for her to let you go. 

“You’re such a troublemaker,” Natasha said with a playful eye roll.

“But I’m your troublemaker,” you emphasized, giving her a wink.

The two of you then got ready for the fancy dinner on the boardwalk of the beach. Natasha wore a fancy black dress and you wore a bold red dress.

You two mulled over the menu for a while, as there were so many options.

The waiter came over in a fancy tuxedo, asking what you guys wanted to order.

“Just to make sure, but you guys don’t have chicken tenders right? Because that’s all she eats,” you said jokingly, gesturing towards Natasha.

The waiter laughed and apologized that they did not serve chicken tenders.

Natasha narrowed her eyes at you, before ordering chicken parmesan. You ordered after her and got fettuccine alfredo with chicken. Once the waiter wrote down the order and left, Natasha gave your knee a squeeze under the table, causing you to yelp and hit your knee on the table.

You glared at her in embarrassment asking why she did that.

“Just a little revenge for your cheekiness you brat,” Natasha said quietly, giving you a pinch to your side, making you jerk away and turn red. You were used to her tickling you whenever she felt like it, but having it done in public was something that would always embarrass you.

You swatted her away and eventually the food came. You eyed the food suspiciously, wondering if Natasha had told them to hide the ring in the food somewhere.

You poked around for a bit before digging in, reaching the bottom of the bowl and finding no ring in sight.

For dessert, you guys ordered cheesecake and oreo ice cream, taking in the richness of each one.

“This is the best cheesecake I’ve ever had,” Natasha marveled, which you knew meant the cheesecake was superior. Natasha was hardly ever impressed by food. 

After safely eating the dessert with no ring in it, you two took an evening stroll on the boardwalk, taking in the cool summer breeze.

“So…three years. Long time,” you said awkwardly.

“And yet you’re still so awkward around me,” Natasha said with a chuckle.

“Well, what can I say? I get shy around beautiful women,” you said, giving her your cutest smile.

“You are so cute,” Natasha commented, as you blushed.

“I can’t believe it’s been so long. It felt like just yesterday I was learning about your habits and personality, and now I know it better than anything else,” Natasha said.

“I used to be so shy around you. You were scary, you know that?” You said with a grin.

“You’re still scared of me,” Natasha responded, reaching her hand out, threatening to tickle you. You quickly jumped away and covered your side.

“See? Always scared,” the redhead said with a smirk. 

“Where do you see us in the future?” You asked.

“I’m honestly not sure. Our lives are very different right now, but at the same time, there’s no one else I’d rather be with. I know it’s you Y/N, I just never know when the time is right.

You nodded understandingly.

“I wish we could know for sure what our future holds. But then again, does anyone really?” You responded.

“I just know that I have a ship and I am the captain of that ship,” Natasha said, looking out towards the sea.

You looked at her as she continued looking out to the sea. The sun was setting at its most perfect point. She turned slowly and looked you in the eyes for a minute. 

“Y/N, will you marry me and become my co-captain of the ship?” The redhead asked, breaking out into a smile.

Your eyes widened, panicking now. You knew relationships led to marriage sometimes, but it never seemed real until now. So many emotions were taking over you and you weren’t sure whether to cry or not.

“Natasha I love you so much, of course I will marry you. A thousand times yes,” you said, as she stood up and kissed you as you cried happy tears. She placed the ring on your finger, shining brighter than any star in the universe.

She swung you in the air out of happiness, as you giggled in glee. 

“I love you more than anyone else in the world,” Natasha said, leaning in to kiss you again.

Suddenly, you two heard a voice nearby.

“Wow those were some great pictures.”

You both spun around to see Yelena with a fancy camera.

“Don’t give me that look Natashka, you told me to hide and take pictures when the proposal happened,” Yelena said, now showing the pictures.

“Wow, you really timed it well for the sunset to be in the perfect position,” you commented.

“I needed it to be perfect,” Natasha said.

Yelena took some more pictures, also getting close ups of your ring. Now you understood why she took you to get a manicure.

After the pictures, Yelena gave you two some alone time on the beach.

Natasha looked at you mischievously. 

“Hey woah woah this ring is expensive,” you said defensively.

“Then I’ll just get your feet,” Natasha said, gently tackling you on the sand and burying your feet.

“Oh come on!” You whined, although you were secretly pining for tickles.

“I know your tense from not getting your evening tickles,” Natasha teased, as she removed your high heels and began gently tickling your feet.

“AHAHAHA STAHAHAP NAHAHAT,” you laughed.

“Wow so I guess when you get engaged your ticklishness doesn’t go away huh?” Natasha commented, as you tried to kick the sand away.

Natasha took a nearby feather and began to saw the feather between your toes.

“NOHOT THAHAHAT PLEHEHEASE,” you cried, as you were highly sensitive between the toes.

“We gotta celebrate somehow right?” Natasha asked, as you laughed against your will. 

Natasha finished it off by going for the kill, taking all her nails and scratching them against your heels, causing you to lose it.

“ENOHOUGH PLEHEHEASE NOHOHO MOHOHORE,” you cried, as she then let up and helped get you unstuck from beneath the sand. 

“Apparently people like you still stay just as annoying after they’re engaged,” you huffed at her.

“What was that?” Natasha asked, reaching out to tickle your stomach.

“NOHOHOTHING AHAHA,” you giggled out, rolling away from her.

“Do you like the ring?” Natasha asked, as you nodded and leaned in to kiss her.

The two of you made out on the beach as the sun continued setting before returning home to rest after the craziest day in your lives.

In the next few months, you two began planning your wedding. You guys had chosen the venue already and were now deciding on the food.

“I want mashed potatoes to be there,” you quickly interjected, as Natasha giggled.

“How about steak and mashed potatoes? With salad maybe?” She asked.

“Oooh yes!” You cheered.

“Do you want cake or something else?” Natasha asked.

You both didn’t like cake, so you decided to have an ice cream bar with all the toppings one could dream of. 

You had pretty much all of the details figured out. Location, food, dessert, guests, music, flowers, decorations, you name it.

The day of the wedding had finally arrived. It was sunny and beautiful outside and everyone was in a chipper mood.

After some socializing, the wedding began.

“Natasha Romanoff, do you take Y/N to be your lawfully wedded wife?” The officiator asked.

“I do,” Natasha said, beaming.

“Y/N, do you take Natasha Romanoff to be your lawfully wedded wife?” The officiator asked you.

“I do,” you said, squeezing her hand in excitement.

“You may kiss,” the officiator announced, as you two shared a passionate kiss as the crowd applauded and cheered.

The rest of the night consisted of dancing, eating, and drinking with friends and family. You enjoyed the mashed potatoes and ice cream the most however. 

Later that night, you and Natasha were in a hotel room before leaving for your honeymoon the next day.

“What a day huh? I just got to marry an Avenger,” you said, taking off your dress and revealing the lingerie you had been saving for her.

“You’re so lucky there were people around. I would’ve worn you down so much you wouldn’t have been able to say ‘I do’”, Natasha teased, pinning you down on the bed and tickling you wherever she could.

You burst out into laughter, knowing that you were gonna be her toy for the rest of the night…

#natasha romanoff #natasha x reader #ticklish!reader #lee!reader #marvel tickle fic #yelena belova #tickle fic #black widow #mcu tickle #ler!natasha #marvel tickle #smut #proposal #marriage #romance #romance fantasy #romance fanfiction #tickle blog #mcu tickle fic #mcu #natasha smut #wlw #lesbians #lgbtq

[clown-fc]

love of your life | mason mount

summary , where the very much mourned couple of the uk football/youtube scence reconnect

note , i am back from hiatus so dont be a dry reader or i’ll make the angstiest fic ever with no happy ending 🤭

yes, i’ll get stressed out if i can’t read you!

[tagged: ethereal, model.company]

❤️ liked by masonmount, gkbarry_, and 1,502,326 others

yourusername i’m so happy to finally to bring you all my skincare brand which has been in the works for 5 years, so please welcome, ethereal beauty! the site is currently in countdown mode and will go live tonight. I have personally spent time with dermatologists so that we can finally bring you a skincare line that is going to heal your skin barrier so that we can create healthy skin from within. This couldn’t have become possible without my team who helped me bring a vision that has always been on pen and paper brought to life. i love you all at ethereal beauty and i can’t wait to see what’s in store for us 🫶🏻💕

user i have y/ns post notifications on and yet mason still beat me to like it 💔

yourbestfriend i’ve never felt so proud of you. i can’t wait for everyone to see the hard work you’ve put into this 🥹🥹

yourusername i love u sm!! thank u for listening to me ramble for days 🫶🏻🫶🏻🫶🏻

benchilwell so proud now lets see if you still know how to party because ive rented out the biggest place

yourusername best get my old dancing shoes out 🫡

user i love the chilly and y/n friendship i still remember when mason introduced the two 😭

user babes are you crying over masonyn again 🤦‍♀️

ksi so free stuff

yourusername deal if free primes in the negotiation 🤝

behzingagram @yourusername good luck he won’t even give it to the sidemen

gkbarry_ im omw with a vodka cranberry that has your name all over it!!

user is this going to be affordable? because id love to support you but im a struggling student at uni

yourusername when me and the team were working close together a big concern of mine was overpricing because i wanted this to be affordable and accessible for everyone, but to make sure we are bringing the best we possibly can we as team have had to price it up at around £15/£20 for more advanced medical products but everything else on the site is pretty affordable 💕

user hopefully this helps my cystic acne because if im going to listen to anyone its going to be a past cystic acne girlie 🥰🥰

model hi yn it was amazing working with you on the shoot!! the range is amazing 💗

yourusername omg hi beautiful!!! i loved having you on the shoot & i look forward to hopefully having you back in the future 👀🫶🏻

[tagged: ethereal, gkbarry_, bestfriend1, bestfriend2]

❤️ liked by masonmount, gkbarry_ and 1,303,201 others

yourusername it was so amazing getting the chance to celebrate something that has been my biggest passion ever with the people i hold most dear in my heart. i would not be who i am or where i am today without you (i need those passion fruit martinis again 🥰)

bestfriend1 we brought the house down with our rendition of girls just wanna have fun 🎤

yourusername nobody held a chance quite literally

benchilwell @yourusername tell me about it you threatened to bite me when i reached for the mic

ksi 🔥🔥

user how did mason let her slip away mother come home pls 🙏🏻

gkbarry_ you looked so sexy let me wife you up x

yourusername come right here then im waiting 🥰

behzingagram you know its a good night when i found faith in the bath tub this morning

user help!?? faith is just like me

bestfriend2 those passionfruit martinis need to come back asap so lethal but so yummy!!

yourusername girls night next week!! we’ll try to make them ourselves can’t say it’ll be successful 😂

bestfriend1 @yourusername that’s what makes it more fun

user omg i need a friendship like theirs rn!!!

user i will never get over how beautiful you are

user OMG SOMEONE TOOK A VIDEO OF MASON AT THE CLUB

user SHUT UP WHERE CAN I FIND IT

user its on twitter so basically its a full 2 minute video of him just staring longingly at yn all night, like whenever she moved his eyes followed her. it wasn’t till chilly slapped him on the back did he stop staring. this man was transfixed i tell you 🥹🥹

user why can’t they just see what’s in front of them 😩😩

[tagged: masonmount]

❤️ liked by benchilwell, declanrice and 3,250,129 others

yourusername be the love of your life

comments on this post have been turned off.

#football imagine #football x reader #football instagram au #football x you #football #football social media au #mason mount imagine #mason mount instagram au #mason mount x you #mason mount x reader #mason mount fanfic #mason mount #mason mount fluff

[piscespixiewastaken]

Sixteenth Day Event Prompt:

Dream & Ponk - Rabbit

@sixteenth-day-event

(Did I totally misread the prompt and have to reword the fic to make it work? No, totally didn’t, no idea what you’re talking about)

(Also, thank you to @simplepotatofarmer for inserting rabbit!Dream in my head. May have accidentally stolen an idea from their Rabbit Run fic. If you haven’t yet, go read Rabbit Run, it’s very good! Can’t stop thinking of c!dream as prey hybrid types now.)

Sixteenth Day Event:

Dream & Ponk - Rabbit

Ponk finds an injured Dream in the woods by his house after a prison break. He’s not one to leave an injured man to die.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“So, I’m not the only one Sam decided to fuck with,” Ponk muttered.

The masked rabbit hybrid in front of him shrugged. He stared down at the hand Ponk was wrapping with bandages. He sat on the kitchen chair stiff and uncomfortable. There were more bandages wrapped around his torso and limbs under his trousers. His rabbit ears were heavily bandaged, which wasn’t helping his already damaged hearing. His right foot was missing, a rudimentary prosthetic attached to the stump of his lower leg. Ponk didn’t want to consider the implications of a rabbit hybrid losing a foot. Especially when he knew Dream could shapeshift.

“Seriously, what the hell did he do to you in there?”

Another shrug. Ponk sighed.

“Dream, you’re going to have to talk to me at some point. I can only help with so much if I’m guessing what hurts and what might be infected. You’re lucky to be moving while missing a foot like that,” he chided.

Dream’s ears wilted as he hunched his shoulders in response, as if trying to curl in on himself despite the fabric wrapped around his body. Ponk’s eyes softened.

“Just take your time, okay? I’m not turning you back over to Sam anytime soon.”

“What about the others?” a hoarse voice coughed out of Dream’s throat. “Would you turn me over to them?”

Ponk sighed. He’d been doing that a lot lately. When had the server become like this? His best friend taking his arm over a couple of tokens. That same person torturing their former friend. The Egg corrupting the others and driving them to hurt and kill on a whim. When had it all gone so wrong?

“No, I won’t be. I’m not a snitch, Dream. Have a little faith that I have some sort of conscience after all this,” he huffed, letting out a small, humorless chuckle.

Dream turned away. As much as Ponk would have liked to see Dream’s face, see the expressions he was making… he understood Dream’s desire for privacy. It seemed to have been ripped from him in prison.

The tension building in the room caused Ponk to switch subjects.

“Why did Sam… why did he torture you? Was it supposed to be a punishment?” he winced at the words leaving his mouth. But he also couldn’t help his curiosity. His need to relate to someone who had suffered abuse at the hands of the same person.

Dream flinched. Ponk bit his lip to keep down the concerned reassurance that tried to leap from his throat. Dream wouldn’t want that, not right now.

“It… Sam didn’t lift a finger. Not really. He just… he just condoned it,” Dream mumbled. His voice was so quiet Ponk almost didn’t hear him.

“What? He let… he let someone else torture you? In his prison?” Ponk couldn’t keep the incredulous tone from his voice.

Dream nodded.

Ponk swallowed. He could see Sam torturing someone. Hell, he counted what he went through as torture, and that only lasted a day at most. But to hand someone else the tools and sit back and watch…. That was almost worse.

Just who on the server would feel comfortable to get close enough to Dream of all people to torture him?

“Wh—?”

“It was Q-Quackity,” Dream said, voice breaking ever so slightly on the other’s name.

Ponk frowned. He didn’t know Quackity particularly well. He had seen the other when they had gone to the vault to detain Dream. But otherwise, they barely interacted. The younger man must be power hungry then, enough to try and take something from a man already locked up and unable to touch anyone.

“Huh.” It was all Ponk could think to respond.

There another long silence. The air felt thicker and stuffier by the minute, and Ponk debated opening a window before deciding against it. It would cause Dream to panic more, and Ponk had barely managed to get the young rabbit hybrid to his house after finding him bleeding out in the woods.

Ponk turned back to the masked hybrid to finish off the last bandage. His frown deepened as a line of blood dripped from Dream’s chin.

“Dream, is your head bleeding?”

Dream flinched, before reaching up and dabbing the skin under his mask. His fingers came away red with blood. Ponk watched as the young man’s chest stuttered, his lungs not quite working properly as he began hyperventilating.

Ponk took his hand and held it firmly but gently, rubbing circles on bandaged knuckles.

“I need you to breathe, Dream. It’s all right. You’re okay. I can treat the injury if you take your mask off. Can you do that for me?”

Dream went still, ears flattening against his head. His hands clenching and unclenching repeatedly. He shook his head. Ponk’s eyes softened.

“I promise no one will hurt you, Dream. I just want to make sure it’s not infected, okay?”

Dream was quiet again. For a good moment, Ponk thought he would have to leave the wound alone and pray it wouldn’t become infected.

And then Dream slowly raised his hand to the white disc that sat on his face. He undid the strap and lowered it.

The face that stared down at the ground was covered in scars and burns. As if a hot knife had been dragged across his cheeks. His little nose was inflamed and torn. His whiskers were almost shaved, which couldn’t possibly be good for his stability. There was even a small “Q” dug into the jawline. No part of Dream’s body had been spared the torture then.

Ponk was glad his own face was covered, but he knew his eyes would betray his horror. He quickly composed himself and got to work on the gash in Dream’s forehead, newly opened from whatever activity Dream had done after escaping the Vault. The young man stayed quiet, despite flinching at how close Ponk got. His dull, green eyes never left Ponk’s hands as he worked, and his ears were still pinned against his head.

“Why are you helping me?” The question was unprompted, maybe to deal with the unsettling silence that had fallen over the two of them.

Ponk sat back for a moment. “Because you used to be my friend, Dream. And you’re injured. I don’t actually enjoy seeing people suffer.”

Dream scoffed but remained silent.

Ponk placed the last plaster on Dream’s skin and stood from where he’d crouched beside the other. He stretched his arms over his head.

“Well, that should be everything. You can stay here for the night, and I would highly recommend you do so. I don’t want you to tear open any stitches,” he said, gesturing to a nearby pullout couch.

Dream shook his head. “I… I have somewhere to go. Thank you, though. I appreciate it.”

Ponk wished he were more surprised by the sincerity in that remark. It would have hurt less to hear than the gratitude oozing out of Dream’s voice, how his ears perked up just a little at Ponk’s offer. As if Dream thought he should have died out there alone and afraid.

“Of course, Dream. My door is open if you need anything, all right? And I promise, I won’t tell anyone.”

Dream nodded, strapping his mask back on.

“Thank you,” he mumbled as he pulled his hoodie back on and donned his armor.

He stood from his chair and almost immediately stumbled, catching himself before Ponk could react. He waved Ponk off and grunted as he stepped towards the door. It swung open with a push, and Dream peered out for a moment, glancing at the surroundings. And turning back to Ponk one last time, he nodded his thanks.

And then he was off again, hobbling down the path to the woods nearby.

Ponk stared out the open door to starlit sky above. He sighed, closed the door, and moved to clean the table of bandage rolls and dots of blood. A deep sorrow built up inside him as he thought of the dull eyes of a man he had considered a close friend. And of the maniacal look on their abuser’s face when he’d taken Ponk’s arm. One he probably had when Quackity had taken Dream’s foot.

When had it all gone so wrong?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

(You thought, oh cute fic prompt, maybe fluff? No, you get angst instead. No comfort, only hurt).

#sixteenthdayevent #c!dream and c!ponk #they were friends your honor #ponk still cares but dream is too paranoid #totally stole simplepotatofarmer’s rabbit!dream idea #it worked with the prompt #rabbit hybrid!dream #rabbit!dream #dsmp #mcyt #<for anyone who has those tags blocked

[illdowhatiwantthanks]

Hi!!! I love your Amelia and Emily fics so much, I’ve basically binged them 😂 I was wondering if I could request an Amelia x reader fic where maybe reader is like 6 months pregnant with her and Amelia’s first child and has a bad history with her dad and her dad comes into the hospital with his new wife and her kid and it just stirs bad feelings for reader and Amelia comforts her? Maybe autistic reader? Thank you so much!

Thank you so much! 💕 I'm so, so glad you enjoy them! Also, thanks especially for an autistic!reader request, they're some of my favorites to write! Hope you enjoy! – illdowhatiwantthanks

The R Word

Amelia Shepherd x fem!autistic!reader Warnings: autism struggles, ableism, use of ableist slurs, overstimulation (the autism kind, not the sex kind), explicit language, pregnancy times (let me know if I've missed anything!) Word Count: 2.4k

Summary: It's a typical day working with a child in the ER when your estranged father shows up and makes you feel just as small and stupid and alien as he did when you were growing up. Amelia is there to comfort you and remind you of who you really are.

“No, Mommy!” the little girl wailed as she writhed on the hospital bed. “I want to go home!”

Her mom looked at you apologetically as she tried to soothe her child. You needed to get her vitals. Based on the mom’s description, you also probably needed to get IV fluids and an antiemetic in her. But you knew that wasn’t going to happen while the kid felt scared and overwhelmed. This wasn’t your first rodeo with kids in the ER. In fact, the other ER nurses often called you over when kids were difficult to work with. They called you the “bad kid whisperer.”

You knew better. They weren’t bad kids. They were usually just scared. There was a lot to be scared of at a hospital. And you were good with them because you understood better than most what it was like for your body and brain to feel so overwhelmed that you could no longer regulate your emotions. Being autistic was hard sometimes, it made you stand out, but this was a place where it made you stand out in a good way.

You lifted your hands to show the little girl that you were setting down all your medical instruments.

“It’s okay,” you said quietly, pulling the curtain closed around the bed. Sometimes making the space smaller helped. You bent down to her height, careful to keep your distance and not to touch her.

“I’m Y/N,” you said. “What’s your name?”

The girl didn’t answer, shaking as she sobbed.

You nodded. “It’s okay if you don’t want to talk right now. Do you feel like you can’t breathe or anything?”

The girl shook her head.

“Good. Then all this other stuff can wait, okay? I’m not gonna touch you. No needles, no thermometer, no heartbeat or anything until you feel a little calmer. We can wait.”

She seemed to calm down a bit when she realized you weren’t going to make her do anything, her sobs subsiding to the occasionally aggressive sniffle.

“Here,” you offered, pulling a tiny tech deck skateboard out of the pocket of your scrubs. “Sometimes when I’m scared or nervous, having something to do with my hands makes me feel better.” You rolled the skateboard toward her, and she started running it across the rails of the hospital bed, her breathing starting to calm.

“Better?” you asked.

She nodded.

You started taking her vitals and continued the conversation. “You think you can tell me your name now?”

“Maddy,” she whispered.

You smiled even as you read her temperature: 103.4. Pretty high. She was almost certainly dehydrated. “That’s a really cool name. Now, do you know why your mom brought you here?”

“I threw up,” she told you, lip quivering.

“Oh, man,” you commiserated. “That’s the worst. I hate throwing up.”

Maddy nodded.

“Did you throw up just one time or a lot of times?”

“A lot.”

You exchanged glances with the mom to make sure this information was accurate.

“She can’t keep anything down,” the mom worried, biting her nails.

“Okay. Well, that’s okay. We’re gonna help you feel better. First, we’re gonna get some fluids in you. Do you know what that means?”

She shook her head as you gathered the supplies and pulled on gloves.

“It means your tummy is so sick that when you drink water, it all just comes right back out. And that’s not good because your body needs water. Your heart and your lungs and all the things that make you healthy and strong, they need water. So since you can’t swallow it, we’re gonna put a little tube in your arm and send water through the tube. That way your body gets the water it needs. And we’ll send medicine and electrolytes and all kinds of other good stuff to fight the sickness, too. It’s like we’re sneaking weapons past the sick.”

This explanation seemed to cheer her up a bit. “Like a secret mission?” she asked.

You nodded conspiratorially. “Exactly like a secret mission. But to get all that good stuff in there, we’re gonna have to put a needle in your arm. Just for a second! It makes the path for the supplies to go in.”

Maddy seemed to think deeply about this, then nodded. You had her play with the skateboard while you placed the IV line, ensuring that she was comfortably positioned for a good hour or so of fluid intake.

“Thank you,” her mom mouthed to you, and you gave her a quick thumbs up before adding a few reminders to your chart–what to check in the next hour, etc.

Maddy, now calmer, took a good look at you for the first time, from your glasses to your fingers that twitched by your ears, to your stomach that protruded out past your waistline–you were six months pregnant.

“Why are you so fat?” Maddy blurted out.

“Madeline Grace!” her mom hissed.

“It’s okay,” you laughed. “My tummy looks like this because there’s a baby in there. But some tummies are just bigger than others, too, and that’s okay. All tummies are good tummies.”

“Where’s the daddy?” she asked, reaching out to brush her hand over your stomach.

“No daddy,” you explained. “This baby has two mommies. His other mommy works upstairs. On brains.”

“Brains!?” she squealed.

You nodded. “Yeah. She’s pretty cool.”

Just then, the relative calm of a midday ER was interrupted by a loud, brash voice, bursting through the doors, yelling at the nurses at the station.

“Where the fuck is my daughter!? Middle of the fucking work day. Unbelievable. Am I going too fast for you? Read my lips, sweetheart. Madeline. Y/L/N.”

You froze, any icy stream of panic running from the back of your neck all the way down to your heels. You’d know that voice anywhere. It was an angry voice, a coach’s voice, the voice that had yelled at you to “stay the fuck in the bleachers” when all you wanted was to sit in the car and breathe. The same voice that growled at you to stop “doing that shit with your hands, you look like a r*tard.” The same voice that told you over and over that you weren’t “stupid enough to be on the short bus,” but you were “too stupid to function in real life.”

You felt your brain start swirling, felt panic building in your chest. You knew he’d gotten remarried, of course you knew. But you didn’t talk to him, hadn’t talked to him in nearly a decade. You knew they’d had a kid, but you didn’t know it was this kid.

All the ER noises, the beeps of the machines, the buzzing of the overhead lights–were they getting brighter?–the clang of instruments being set down, wails, conversations, and above it all your dad’s voice. Your dad’s voice. It was too much. It was all way, way too much.

You felt your hands start to shake at your sides, your body swinging back and forth, and you had to stop. You had to stop. Your dad would kill you.

He threw back the curtain, and his jaw dropped when he saw you.

“You!?” he spat, looking down. “Are you pregnant!?”

Maddy seemed oblivious to the tension. “Daddy!” she called. “Her name is Y/N and she gave me this little skateboard and the water is fighting the sickness through my tubes and she has a baby in her tummy and the baby’s other mommy fixes brains.”

You tried so hard not to stim, but it was not working. 

“Don’t tell me you’re a nurse?! God, it’s a miracle you didn’t fucking stab her. You shouldn’t be holding any needles with those flappy arms. Probably shouldn’t be holding any babies either.” He shot out his hand and grabbed Teddy’s arm, which was wild to you. The audacity of the man to assume he had the authority to bother the trauma surgeon. “Yeah, honey, we need a different nurse over here. This one’s a r*tard.”

Teddy looked flabbergasted and deeply offended, but also concerned, as you clenched your teeth, hugging yourself, twisting your body back and forth. “It’s doctor, sir, and that word is not welcome at Grey-Sloan. Y/N is a perfectly capable medical professional. In fact, she’s one of our best, especially with kids.”

“I don’t know if you know this, but I feel like it’s my responsibility to tell you,” your dad whispered loudly to Teddy. “She’s got autism. She shouldn’t be handling tools or people or anything.”

Teddy pressed her lips together in frustration. “As I said, sir,” she repeated more forcefully. “Y/N is a perfectly capable medical professional, and we’re lucky to have her. But I’ll get another nurse over here for you. Y/N?”

Teddy beckoned you over, careful not to touch you, and led you to a quieter corner of the room.

“Who the fuck is that guy?!” she asked.

“M-my dad,” you stuttered. Everything in the room–sounds, lights, smells, all of it–seemed to be crashing over you again and again. As if you’d been knocked over by a wave and couldn’t get back up again because they just kept coming.

“You want to hang out in one of the on-call rooms for a bit?” Teddy suggested.

You nodded.

“Should I page Amelia?”

You shook your head. “She’s in surgery.”

Teddy pulled out her tablet to look. “I mean, we could just check.”

“Don’t bother her,” you repeated. “She’s got work to do. I’ll be okay.”

You made your way to the elevator and up to an on-call room, breathing heavily when you shut the door against the rest of the hospital. You turned off the lights, curling into a corner of the bottom bunk and pulling your knees up to your chest–or as close to your chest as they could get with your baby bump in the way.

You rocked yourself back and forth, thoughts spiraling. The movement and the dark usually calmed you down, but you were having a hard time regulating today, and nothing seemed to be working. Your breath just got faster and faster. And the fact that you couldn’t get yourself out of your spiral only made you spiral more.

You knew you were a good nurse. You knew that. You knew because you’d done it. But you hadn’t ever been a mom before. What if he was right? What if the baby made you overstimulated and you yelled or lashed out? What if the baby went to school and you went to parent nights and he was embarrassed of you, of how you couldn’t make eye contact and didn’t start conversations right and didn’t get the jokes. What if being autistic made you a bad mom?

You had tears streaming down your face by the time you heard a light knock on the door. It creaked open and Amelia’s head popped in. When she saw it was you, she quickly let herself in and locked the door.

“Oh, babe,” she said, watching your body rock back and forth in huge, aggressive sweeps. “A bad one, huh?”

“Go away, Amelia,” you hiccuped.

“Hey,” she said, jokingly. Then when she got closer and saw the tear tracks on your face, she said it again, quieter, sitting next to you on the bed. “Hey.”

When you didn’t say anything, Amelia shrugged. “Teddy said your… dad was here?”

You nodded.

She let out a deep breath, running a hand through her hair. “Honey, will you let me hold you? Please?”

You nodded.

“Alright,” she said, waiting for your body to line up with hers as you rocked, then quickly grabbing you up in her arms, like she was catching something midair. “Gotcha.” She rocked with you.

“What did he say?” she asked, her breath warm on the top of your head.

“That I shouldn’t hold medical tools or babies because I’m a fucking re– I don’t want to say it. I hate that word.”

You felt Amelia’s arms tighten around you, and her breath came out in huffs. She was very angry. “As you should,” she told you. “It’s a nasty word. And it’s a word that doesn’t describe you at all, you know that.”

“I don’t know, Amy,” you whispered into her chest. “What if he doesn’t like me?”

“Babe, I think that ship has sailed,” Amelia said, running her fingers through your hair.

“Not my dad,” you explained. “The baby.”

Amelia was quiet for a moment, then you felt her lips press against the top of your head.

“Oh, honey,” she said, her voice soft. “Of course he’ll like you. He’ll love you. You're his mom.”

“But what if I’m bad at it? What if autism makes me bad at it?”

“Y/N,” Amelia said, gently grabbing your face and positioning it so that you had to look in her general direction, if not in her eyes. “Look how good you are with the kids in the ER. You’re gonna be an incredible mom.”

“I’m just scared,” you admitted.

“I’m a little scared, too,” Amelia told you. “But you know what? I think we’re gonna be okay. Me and you together? I mean, surely, combined, we can be at least one whole good mom, right?”

You giggled.

Amelia grinned at you. “There she is.”

You were quiet for a moment, playing with Amelia’s finger, with the edges of her scrubs.

“You know what you are?” Amelia asked after a bit, kissing your forehead. “You are smart and kind and empathetic. You’re funny and brave and you work hard. You’re my favorite person in the whole world.”

You looked away.

“Hey,” she said, pulling your face back toward her again. “I don’t like people talking about my wife like that. Even you.”

You nodded, wrapping your arms around her waist and pressing your face to her chest.

“Are you going back down there?” Amelia asked.

You shrugged.

“Want me to check if your dad’s still here?”

“Would you?”

“Oh, yeah,” she said, standing and placing one more kiss on your cheek. “In fact, I’d really like to talk to him.”

“Don’t do anything that’ll get you fired, Amy,” you called after her.

She looked back at you and winked as she walked through the door. “Can’t make any promises.”

#amelia shepherd #amelia shepherd x reader #amelia shepherd x fem!reader #amelia shepherd x autistic!reader #amelia shepherd fanfic #amelia shepherd fluff #amelia shepherd hc #hurt/comfort #grey's anatomy #grey's anatomy fanfic

[coloursflyaway]

Won’t Fear Love (3/6)

Pairing: Edwin Payne/Charles Rowland

Rating: T

Word Count: 1.500

Read on AO3

„We should go a date“, Charles says on a perfectly bland Tuesday, looking up at Edwin from whatever he is doing at the moment.

If Edwin wasn’t dead already, he would suspect that Charles is trying to kill him.

or:

Five times Charles takes Edwin on a date to figure out if he could fall in love with him, and one time when he has an answer.

tagging all the lovely people who wanted to give this fic a read: @itsablueberrycow @piristephes @assignedpeanutallergyatbirth @mylu @oneweirdbean @lifeinvirtualreality

“Is there anything you want to do?”, Charles asks one day, apropos of absolutely nothing. “You know, date-wise.” It’s still mind-boggling to Edwin how Charles can talk about it this nonchalantly, when Edwin still has to remind himself twice a week that this is real, that they are doing this. That Charles wants to do it, most of all. “… no?”

Most likely it isn’t the answer Charles is looking for, but the thought of having a preference, of requesting something for them to do on their… their dates, is so alien to Edwin that he is just now realising that it is a possibility. For him, this is enough: sitting in the same space, Charles’ feet on his lap as they both read their respective books, Edwin’s hand lightly resting on his ankle. In fact, it’s more than he ever dared to hope for just weeks ago.

“That’s alright”, Charles reassures him, putting down his novel to look at Edwin properly. His hair is a little mussed from where he has been running his hands through it, and Edwin wants nothing more than to reach out and fix it. “I’ve got ideas. Just thought that I’d check, because in the end, it’s not just my little wish fulfilment exercise, is it?”

He smiles, and it’s gentle somehow, tender. Wish fulfilment, he calls it. Edwin just hopes that Charles knows it’s much more than that to him.

From the outside, it doesn’t look like much. However, Charles seems to be excited when they stop in front of the grey, nondescript building, bouncing on the balls of his feet as he turns to Edwin, so obviously proud of himself. “I asked Crystal for a rec for this”, he explains, “And she said it was brills, so I thought we could give it a try? Because I know that you like these things, and I wanna like what you like, so...yeah?”

It’s adorable, the expression on Charles’ face so open and hopeful, and Edwin wants to say yes, but… “You still haven’t told me where we are”, he tells Charles gently, who starts laughing almost immediately.

“Oh, you’re right”, he concedes and takes Edwin’s hand to pull him to the door, his grip firm and warm and something that Edwin is slowly, ever so slowly getting used to. Because this is something they do now, apparently, on cases and at home and in between moments. Charles will take his hand and not let go of it, and Edwin will die a hundred beautiful, magnificent deaths while hoping it will never end. “It’s an art gallery”, Charles explains and drags him along, phasing through the walls, “and it’s closed on Wednesday nights, so we have it all to ourselves. Good for a third date, yeah?”

It is.

The gallery is small, but cosy somehow, the paintings held in dark wooden frames and interspersed by small descriptions of the artist, their process, any explanation they’d like to offer for their work.

“I don’t know much about art, so if you wanna enlighten me about anything, go ahead”, Charles tells him the moment they stand in the room, their fingers still intertwined. He looks earnest and happy and Edwin loves him so much it threatens to split him apart by the seams, seeps into his very being. “While I am far from an expert, I will do my best”, he promises, grips Charles’ hand tighter, and never wants to let go again.

They stroll through the exhibition, and while there isn’t much Edwin can say, Charles listens to every word of his like he truly wants to hear it. Asks questions, even, if Edwin makes too many references that he doesn’t understand, offers little quips about the paintings if he thinks they’re funny, or just lets Edwin know his opinion. Through all of it, though, there is something vaguely anxious about him still, spelt out clearly in the way his fingers twitch against Edwin’s knuckles, how his gaze refuses to stay fixed on any one thing, in the tension of his muscles when he drags Edwin to the next painting.

It makes little sense, because he isn’t uncomfortable, he isn’t disinterested; Edwin would be able to tell those things with a single look. Instead, it’s almost like he is impatient, only that Edwin has no idea why.

Until they have finished their round, looked at every painting and read every word of explanation, and Charles pulls Edwin over to a corner of the room, pulling back the thick, red curtain there. Edwin had thought it to be for decorative purposes, but it turns out to be a doorway instead, leading to another, smaller room.

Here, there are no paintings on the walls, nothing but a single statue in the middle of the floor, illuminated by warm, golden light. It depicts two people, a man and a woman, embracing tenderly. The man is holding the woman’s face with one hand, the other settled on the curve of her hip, while she has her arms wrapped around his shoulders, and while it is carved from marble, the figures look alive almost, their faces forever etched into smiles that make Edwin’s heart ache in sympathy, in jealousy.

“I wasn’t completely honest before”, Charles says softly at his side, his thumb brushing across Edwin’s knuckles. “It wasn’t just Crystal’s recommendation, I came here to check it out last week. And as glad as I am that you enjoyed everything out there, this is what I actually wanted to show you.”

For a moment, Edwin isn’t sure he understands, but then his eyes drift down to the wall behind the statue and if he was still breathing, it would be impossible all of a sudden.

Orpheus and Eurydice, reunited, it says in bold, red letters.

For a moment, or two, or ten, Edwin doesn’t know what to say, but then he doesn’t have to, because Charles starts speaking instead.

“I read up on it, after we got back from Hell”, he says, and his voice is so soft, so tender, that Edwin feels tears prickling in his eyes. He still hasn’t looked away from the statue, isn’t sure if he could if he tried. “And I know what you meant about hoping we wouldn’t be like them, but I still think it kind of fits, you know? Because I will always come back for you. And I will always turn around to make sure you’re still there. The only difference is that I won’t let anyone take you ever again.”

“Charles, that’s the whole point of the story, though”, Edwin answers shakily, faintly aware that the tears are spilling down his cheeks, that Charles can most definitely see them, hear them.

“I don’t care”, comes the answer, no hesitation, just a hint of a smile in Charles’ voice. “We’ll make a new point then. Because we’re them. We’re Orpheus and Eurydice, reunited.”

And he lets Edwin pull him into a hug, desperate and fierce and tender, and lets him weep against his shoulder until there’s nothing of the sadness left, only love, only hope, only devotion.

They walk back to the agency afterwards, Edwin’s eyes still red-rimmed, and Charles takes them the long way, through the little park close-by that Edwin has never given a second thought until now. There isn’t much conversation, but like always, the silence between them is warm and comfortable, their fingers still intertwined between their bodies. It’s not making his metaphorical heart beat faster any longer, at least not at the moment, instead the touch is grounding Edwin. A reminder that Charles is there, that he will always be there, that he meant it.

“There is another thing I wanted to say”, Charles eventually tells him, and for the first time that evening he isn’t looking back when Edwin glances at him. “I know it was a lot, back there in Hell, and I know we never talked about it, and that is fine. Understandable, really. But I just wanted to thank you for telling me about your feelings. It must have taken so much courage to do it, and I am so grateful that you would trust me like that.”

Charles says it like he is truly thankful, and Edwin’s heart is so full of love for him that it might burst.

“You’re wrong about that”, Edwin replies and stops walking, using their clasped hands to bring Charles to a stop in front of him. It’s not only his eyes that are still red with unshed tears, he realises, and it’s almost too much to consider, too much to bear. Suddenly, it’s the easiest thing in the world to reach out and capture Charles’ other hand in his as well, squeezing it and hoping that his touch can anchor Charles in the way he does to Edwin.

“It didn’t take any courage at all”, he continues, and finally Charles is looking at him again, wide eyes and plush lips parted. “Because I knew that you would never love me any less for it. You’re the one constant I have, the one thing I’ve never doubted in my whole existence. And keeping something like that from you, I couldn’t fathom it. It never even crossed my mind.”

He tries for a smile, but only for a moment, before Charles flings himself into his arms, wrapping Edwin in a hug that is so tight it would be painful if they were still alive. “Thank you”, Charles whispers into the side of his neck, lips brushing against the skin there, and maybe it isn’t literal heaven, but it’s damned close to it.

#dead boy detectives #dead boy detective agency #dbd #edwin payne #edwin paine #charles rowland #painland #payneland #paynland #chedwin #charles x edwin #edwin x charles #i will not be normal about them and i also will have them cuddle on their sofa #charles' feet on edwin's lap and edwin's hand around his ankle #as often as it is humanly possible for me

[sequinsmile-x]

Eros - Part 5

Emily wasn’t surprised that she’d started to sleep with one of her professors, but she was surprised that she’d fallen in love with him.

A Hotchniss AU.

-x-

Hi friends,

Somehow 10 months have gone by since I last updated this fic, and then I got an anon about it. People seemed to really miss this version of them, and I did too, so here we are with another part.

If you'd like me to go back to updating this more regularly please do let me know <3

As always, let me know what you think!

-x-

Words: 3.5k

Warnings: Smut, 18+

Read over on Ao3, or below the cut

She loved watching him teach. 

It did something to her, unfurled a desire that felt deep in her blood as she watched him command a room with nothing more than his deep voice and a simple raise of his eyebrow. It reminded her of when they first started sleeping together, when it was completely forbidden - quick fucks in his office after class. Clandestine and fast as she scratched marks into his desk that she knew were still there. On some level, she missed it. She missed the secrecy, the sneaking around that came with it, how it heightened everything to the point where it would drive her crazy.  

She smiles when his eyes meet hers, somehow spotting her in his busy classroom where she is standing at the back, her arms crossed over her chest and her book bag slung over her shoulder. 

She missed the secrecy sometimes, but what she had now was infinitely better. He was kind and loving. He listened to her and took care of her in a way no other partner ever had - even the ones who had been older than him. She could see them going the distance, and was planning on finding a job nearby when she finished her masters in a couple of months.

The idea of Europe, of being far away from him, was no longer as appealing as it once had been.

She jumps a little when the bell goes off, the sound louder than it usually was since she was just below it, and she smiles as Aaron dismisses his class. She tightens her shoulders, sees how some of the students look at her and then whisper to each other. Their relationship was no secret on campus, and she was sure people were aware it hadn’t started only when she started the master's programme - something Aaron had nothing to do with. 

The staring, and the gossip, made her oddly grateful for her upbringing. She’d been taught how to ignore it before she had even started first grade. 

She walks over to him as the last student leaves the room and hums happily as he leans in to stamp a quick kiss against her lips, “Hi sweetheart.” 

“Hi,” she replies, kissing him again before she steps back, making sure to keep some space between them in case someone walks in, “You ready to go?” 

He nods and picks up his briefcase before he eases her bookbag from her shoulder, smiling as he purposely ignores the way she rolls her eyes at him but lets the bag go without comment, “My tux is already at yours, right?” 

Her mother had invited them both to an event she was hosting, and Emily couldn’t think of one good reason to get out of it. Elizabeth had only met Aaron once, a few months ago, when Emily was in the hospital. She’d very purposely kept Aaron and her mother apart ever since then, but she knew she couldn’t forever.

Not when she was sure her mother now understood the nature of how their relationship would have begun. 

“Yes,” she says, grimacing at the thought of their evening plans, “But…” she adds, leaning in towards him, making a point of looking up at him through her long lashes, “We could always just stay at mine,” she says, her smile getting wider as he swallows thickly, his gaze lingering on her lower lip when she wets it with her tongue, “Miss this evening entirely.” 

He leans in and kisses her cheek before he pulls back, “Your mother invited us both,” he says, smiling when she groans, “We should go. Then you can have your way with me when we get back to your place.” 

She scoffs and walks alongside him as they leave the classroom, “You used to be fun.” 

He holds the door open for her and takes the opportunity to lean in close, to press himself against her as she slips out into the hallway, “Later I’ll show you just how fun I can still be.” 

___

Aaron looks around the ballroom curiously, his focus shifting between the groups of strangers scattered around.

He was sure there was more money in this one room than he’d ever get to see in his lifetime.

It was strange to think this was Emily’s world, that this was the environment she’d grown up in. She simultaneously fit it, her grace and elegance and poise making her seem like a natural, and seemed out of place too. This wild, beautiful thing of a woman who had never quite been able to be what her mother wanted or expected. 

She was what he wanted though, and he’d long gotten over any shame or embarrassment over how they’d met. He knew people had their opinions, that they would continue to do so as they moved forward together, but he didn’t care anymore. 

He loved her. Even if he hadn’t told her that yet. 

He wanted to, the words on the tip of his tongue at any given moment, but he always held back. A tiny bit of him laced with insecurity that she’d find someone better, that he’d feel like nothing  short of a lovesick fool when she did. It was a bad attempt at trying to protect himself, his heart still not quite healed from the divorce that had let him jump into something with Emily in the first place. 

“Here you go, honey.”

He smiles as looks up at her and takes the glass of champagne she offers him. He takes the opportunity to look her up and down, to appreciate the dark red dress she is wearing. He’d seen her naked countless times, but there was something about seeing her like this, about the thin straps resting over her collarbone and the split that showed just a little too much of her left thigh that was driving him crazy. 

“Thanks, Em,” he says, sipping his drink before he looks around, “This is…something.” 

She chuckles and steps closer to him, making sure she’s standing next to him so she has the same view of the party that he does, “I’d give this a solid 5 out of 10 on the scale of parties Mother can throw.” 

He raises his eyebrow at her, “Really?”

She hums, “Oh yeah, the ones the President comes to are always much fancier,” she says, laughing when he chokes a little on his drink. She looks over at Elizabeth and groans when she sees her making a beeline for them, determination in her step whilst she carries on talking to the man with her. The man who just so happened to be Emily’s ex-boyfriend, “Oh here we go.” 

He wraps his arm around her, pulling her back into his chest as he kisses her shoulder, smiling into her skin as she shivers, turning her head to narrow her eyes at him.

“It will be fine sweetheart,” he assures her, and she hums, taking a large sip of her champagne as Elizabeth continues to make her way from the other side of the large ballroom. 

“Says the guy who’s only met her once.” 

He smiles and kisses her cheek, making sure his voice is low so only she hears him, “To be fair though, that one time was in the hospital after you cracked your ribs after shower sex. And when she learned you have your nipple pierced.”

“Don’t remind me,” she groans and turns to look at him again, her irritation dulled as he kisses her, his lips quickly stamped against hers. Any further conversation is cut off as Elizabeth finally makes it to them, a smile on her face Emily knows is fake.

“Emily, Aaron,” she says, her hands folded in front of her, “Lovely to see you both.” 

“You too, Mother,” Emily says, leaning forward to kiss her cheek, “Thank you for inviting us.” 

Elizabeth smiles and then turns to face the man next to her, “Mark, you know Emily of course, and this is Aaron.” 

Mark smiles and reaches out, shaking Aaron’s hand before he kisses Emily’s cheek. It makes something in Aaron’s chest burn, jealousy bubbling low in his gut as he tightens his hold on Emily, making the space between them even smaller. 

“Nice to meet you,” Mark says, clearing his throat as he stands back, “How did the two of you meet?”

Before Emily can answer, Elizabeth speaks over her, “Oh Aaron here is a professor at Emily’s university,” she says, smiling politely at her daughter as she carries on, “Emily was in his class.” 

Emily clenches her teeth together, her jaw tight as she swallows down her irritation, knowing Elizabeth wants a reaction from her. In another world, another lifetime, where they had a more typical mother-daughter relationship, she’s sure that on some level she’d understand her mother’s criticism of her relationship with Aaron. She’d appreciate that her mother was worried about her, that the age gap, albeit on the small side given he was a professor, and the power dynamic was a concern. But their relationship wasn’t like that - it never had been - and Emily had long outgrown the need to have her mother’s opinion on something. 

“Aaron teaches the undergrads,” Emily says, maintaining eye contact with her mother for a second before she turns to Mark, “I’m in the masters programme.” 

They all know she’s leaving out the fact she had been an undergrad when they’d first got together, but none of them says it. They make tense, but polite, conversation for a few minutes before Elizabeth moves on and Mark leaves shortly after, making an excuse that he’d seen his parents and that he wanted to say hi to them. 

As soon as they are alone again, Emily sags into his side, grumbling so only he can hear her, “I knew she’d bring it up.” 

“It’s fine, sweetheart,” he says, kissing her temple, “We thought she knew - now we know she does,” he runs his hand up and down her side, the rasp of the material of her dress against his fingers something he could focus on, “Who was that Mark guy?”

“Oh, I dated him during my freshman year.” 

He frowns as he pulls away, the jealousy back in full swing, the simmer turning to a boil, “What?”

She smiles as she looks at him, “No need to be jealous, Aaron. It was years ago now. And…we mutually broke up. He was…nice.” 

“Nice?”

She nods and wraps her arm around his, placing her glass down as she leads him to the dancefloor, “Just nice. Kind of boring. The type of guy my mother would want me to end up with.” 

He chuckles, the familiar insecurity building in his chest, his anxiety that he wasn’t enough for her making itself known, “And I’m, what? More than nice?” 

She smiles as they make it to the dancefloor, immediately pressing herself closer to him, her arms linked around his neck as she uses the proximity to kiss him, sighing into it when his hands settle on her lower back. 

“You’re a lot more than nice,” she says, stamping a kiss to his lips again as they begin to sway, lost in each other, “You’re everything I want.” 

He pulls her closer, his hand firm on her lower back as he kisses her, “You’re everything I want too.”

___

He’s all over her the moment they get into her building. She encourages it, leans into the grasping touch, desperation in it she knows is lingering jealousy from their brief conversation with Mark. 

She also knows he’s distracting her, that he could sense the tension only her mother could bring out in her all evening, and she’s grateful for it. Grateful for him. 

She gasps as she tries to open her front door, her grip tight on her keys as he kisses her cheek and then her jaw, nibbling at the sharp edge of it with his teeth before he licks down her neck. She gets them inside, the door slamming closed behind them, and she turns in his embrace, her hands on his cheeks as she pulls him into a kiss, swallowing down the groan he lets out.

Aaron pushes her against the nearby wall, trapping her between him and it. He runs his hand up her thigh and hooks it around his waist, smirking against her throat when she gasps when his palm presses against her skin.

“Love this dress on you,” he grunts out, “Fucking gorgeous.” 

She looks him up and down, her smile slightly wild as she takes him in, “You don’t look bad yourself in that tux.” 

He grasps her chin to hold her in place as he leans in to kiss her fiercely, tilting her head as his other hand traces her inner thigh, his fingers ghosting over her underwear groaning when he feels the soft damp material. 

“So wet already,” he says as he pulls back, smiling when she chases the kiss, “Bet you’ve been like this all evening.” 

She rests her head against the wall, the thump of it echoing around them, as he rubs her clit through her underwear, “Since I came to your classroom.” 

He grins as he pushes her underwear to the side, groaning as he feels the heat of her, running his fingers back and forth through her slick, “You like watching me teach?”

He knew that already. Had known it since they first started having sex. She’d come to him after class, desperate and ready for him as she’d kiss him before his office door was even locked. She nods, pushing her hips against his hand as he continues to tease her, ghosting over her clit, his touch too gentle, barely there and infuriating. 

“Aaron-” she growls, but she’s cut off as he slips two fingers inside of her, her irritation turning into a moan, “Yes,” she closes her eyes, losing herself in the feeling of him when he starts to pump his fingers in and out of her, curling them to hit the spot deep inside of her that only he’d ever been able to each, “Fuck, yes. Don’t stop.” 

Part of him is tempted to tease her, to use his knowledge of her body to bring her to the edge and then stop, to drive her to that point again and again until she is begging, but he can’t. He wants this - to pull her apart - to remind her that she was his. Not Mark’s. Not anyone else's. His.

He makes quick work of it, pumping his fingers in and out of her, circling his thumb around her clit. It feels like he’s pulling pleasure from her and all she can do is grip his arms, her nails digging into him through his tux jacket. He groans as he feels her tighten around his fingers, and he leans in to kiss her, licking through her mouth as she gets closer to the edge, swallowing down the way she chokes out his name. 

When she comes she’s grateful he’s pressing her so tightly against the wall that she can’t fall, the one leg she has on the ground giving way. She rests her forehead against his and lets out a breathless chuckle.

“Fuck you’re good at that,” she says kissing him again as he pushes her dress up over her hips, his hands on her thighs, fingers slippery with her, as he encourages her to jump, her other leg wrapping around his waist, “So good.” 

Aaron carries her to her bedroom. He tugs at the zipper running down her back and she pulls at his bowtie, letting it fall open before she turns her attention to the buttons on his shirt. She grumbles in frustration when she can’t undo them, her fingers still shaking from the orgasm still thrumming in her veins, and she pulls at the material, buttons scattering across the floor. 

He chuckles, kissing her cheek as he lowers her onto her bed, “This tux is a rental.”

She smirks at him, something settling in her gut when she smooths her hand across his chest, the press of his skin against hers soothing, “I’ll pay the fine.” 

They get undressed quickly, clothes and shoes scattering across her bedroom floor before she pulls him on top of her, sighing when he settles into the cradle of her hips, matching groans escaping them as he notches against her.  She reaches between them and pumps him up and down, smirking when a punched out groan escapes him, his breath skipping across her face. She guides him into her, her eyes rolling back at the familiar stretch, her hips stuttering against his. 

“You feel so good, sweetheart,” he says, resting his forehead against hers, grasping at her thigh again as he hooks it around his back, “So fucking good.” 

“You too,” she gasps out, rolling her hips against his, desperately trying to encourage him to move, every nerve in her body an edge, “Please move, I need you to move.” 

He starts to move, his lips against hers before he makes his way down her neck, biting at her collarbone before he rests his forehead against it, getting lost in the feeling of her, of how she was clenching around him. 

“God, you’re perfect,” he says, kissing every bit of skin he can reach, his hands grasping at her thigh and waist and anywhere he can touch, “So perfect, and all mine.” 

“All yours,” she breathes out, her hands on his back, scratching at his skin as she tries to get him impossibly closer, “Yours.” 

He moves them, pulling out of her and flipping her over, pushing back in before she can even react. She pushes herself up on her elbows, shuddering at the feel of him from this angle. He felt impossibly bigger like this and it overwhelms her, his body draped over hers as he links his fingers through hers. He presses his chin into the top of her head as he grabs her face, tilting it upwards so their eyes meet as he continues to thrust into her, stealing the breath from her lungs. 

“Aaron…” she says, her entire body shuddering, her eyes fixed on his as he brings her closer to the edge, “I’m so close, I’m so fucking close.”

“I know you are baby,” he soothes, kissing her forehead, “I can feel how tight you are,” he sneaks a hand between them and rolls her clit between his thumb and finger, growling when she clenches around him, “Come for me.” 

Her elbows give way when she comes her face pressed against the mattress as she muffles a scream. Her orgasm triggers his, and he comes deep inside of her, grunting her name as he grips her hips so tightly he knows she’ll bruise. 

She chuckles as he slips out of her, falling onto the bed next to her. She turns her head to look at him, smiling when he reaches over to brush her hair from her face. 

“You okay?” 

She hums and nods, shifting closer to him, curling herself around him, “I’m more than okay.” 

He kisses the top of her head as he pulls her closer, their skin sticking together with sweat as she settles into his embrace. They lay in silence for a few minutes, the only sound in the room their breathing slowly evening out. 

“Tonight was…” he starts, drifting off, “Interesting.” 

She chuckles and tilts her head to look up at him, “That’s one way of putting it,” she says, running her fingers through his hair, “I’m sorry about my mom.” 

“You have nothing to be sorry for, Em.”

She hums and reaches for his hand, linking their fingers together, “If our relationship was different, if she was a normal mom, I’d understand her issue with us,” she says, lifting their joint hands to kiss his knuckles, “Fuck, if I have a daughter one day who I found out was seeing one of her professors, I’d have an issue with it.” 

He can’t explain why, can’t rationalise it, but all of a sudden he’s picturing a girl half him and half her, all defiance and fire as she argued with them about why it wasn’t okay for her to sleep with a professor when that’s how they’d met. The thought of it makes him smile, makes the love he has for the woman curled up in his arms warm him from the inside out. 

“Anyway,” she says, resting her head on her hand as she looks at him, “I don’t want to think about my mother…” she says, stamping her lips against his, smiling when he tightens his hold on her, “I just want to think about you.” 

He grabs her, swallowing the yelp she lets out as he settles her on top of him, “All I ever want to think about is you.” 

-x-

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#aaron hotchner x emily prentiss #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner fanfiction #emily prentiss fanfiction #hotchniss fan fic #aaron x emily #emily prentiss #hotchniss fanfic #hotchniss fanfiction #hotchniss #aaron hotchner smut #emily prentiss smut #hotchniss smut #professor hotch

[nostalgicfortomorrow]

zutara fanfic recs bc absolutely nobody asked

PLEASE REBLOG AND TELL ME IF YOU LIKED MY RECS BTW :)

the art of holding on and letting go - teen and up - by evergreenonthehorizon

genuinely one of the best fics i've ever read. it's aang centric and it's from his pov so zutara isn't as prominent as you would have hoped but it's a modern au where they all go to the same high school and aang learns how to let go of his infatuation with the idea of katara rather than who katara is as a person. deeply underrated, please check it out.

we hold our hearts in silence - general audiences - by psychadelic_sya

it completely follows the canon timeline and it features geriatric and ancient zutara who meet again after many years and when you read this, please listen to last kiss by taylor swift on repeat. that's how you get the full experience. it hurts so so so much.

the colour of the stars - teen and up - by bluenebulae

it's a season 3 rewrite from the day of the black sun onwards where katara and zuko both get captured and they work together to try and find the gaang. it's pretty long but the slow burn is so well done, they absolutely nailed the characterisation and it might be my favourite fic ever. they learn everything about each other and the moments zutara shares makes my heart burn with happiness. cannot recommend this one enough.

figure it out - mature - by clearascountryair (uncompleted but ends in a good spot)

they aged up all the characters by two years and it's basically about ember island and what happened after southern raiders. it's a bit uncomfortable at times for some, because there's quite a lot of sex mentioned and featured and drinking as well but the messages overall and the lessons are really good. and it covers the non consensual kataang kiss and there's so many good takeaways. not finished, but ends up in a good spot.

the chemistry of cooking - mature - by smeditteranea

hear me out, hear me out, HEAR ME OUT, it's another college modern au (yeah, sue me, i love my modern aus) but it's really well done, the characterisation is done right, no hate to any of the characters whatsoever, supremely adorable, there's some smut but just scroll past that. so zuko and katara basically end up being lab partners in a cooking class which ozai seriously frowns upon. ozai runs this really morally bankrupt company and zuko works in it, and basically figures out that ozai is doing illegal dumpings and tries to report it.

BONUS:

i feel something (when i see you now) - teen and up - by glowgal

katara is an up and coming popular actor and is zuko's high school crush. they meet again and it's so adorable.

#zutara #zutara fanfic recs #katara/zuko #ao3 #fanfic recommendations #avatar #avatar the last airbender #zutara fanfic recommendations #zutara fanfic #zutara fanfiction

[foggieststars]

how do u think a younger!charles and older!max dynamic would be different than same age!lestappen? ever since u mentioned ur new wip… i’ve been going a little insane

yeah. me too anon...

ok i'm putting a cut in here because i rambled for SO long abt like. just lestappen to be honest

honestly i think my fic is probably not the right place to like. properly explore this because it's a time slip au so like. charles knows what His max is like and they've still grown up together etc but his big dilemma is trying to marry that together in his head with older max. because charles knows like. pre-world champion borderline mad max era max and then when he's confronted with a more mature older max it's difficult for him to reconcile......like i've been doing research for the winner's room au and in 2019 seb and lewis were still publicly saying that they race max differently to others because he's fucking crazy so LMFAO

but also charles in 2018 was still very much. a bit of a hater.....like i know for the past couple of years they've been all smiles and like oh we have a good relationship! in the past it was tense :))) but we're all good now! but in 2018 charles was very much like. i can't say we have a good relationship but I'm Not Here To Make Friends .... and max was literally silent abt it....so from the perspective of an age gap it's very much charles trying to be like. how the fuck is my older self in a relationship with MAX VERSTAPPEN and also why's he so soft and goofy and genuine and charming oh......dear.....what if he fucked me so i can get back to my original timestream.......

but honestly for a proper age difference au i struggle to say. bcs so much of lestappen to me is their history so divorced from that i think their dynamic would be very different and like. i hesitate to say not as compelling.....like. i'm so sorry to quote jos verstappen but this quote about them during their karting days lives in my mind rent free

A PROPHECY................ like to me this is why age gap lestappen is honestly for me. purely about getting to write older max fucking sauber charles. because sauber charles was still like. not that charles is exactly a rippling muscle monster now but like. in 2018 he was a tad more twinky....and max is like. Bigger now. so for me it's about aesthetics literally just because of the fact that like. to me it's always about the History.

ALSO i can't remember who said it i think it was one of my mutuals so full credit to whichever big brained beauty said this. but they pointed out that like. when max started driving lewis and seb and kimi etc always described his driving as over the line but charles has ALWAYS described driving against max as 'on the limit' and like. they know each other well from their karting days and they know how to race each other.............god. much to think about

however i think a true age gap au would have max being irritated by charles treating him exactly how max used to treat older drivers and just being fucking crazy. because max might have the mad max rep but like. charles is not exactly the epitome of safe sane and consensual racing himself.....anybody remember monza 2023

having said all that. please go and read frechheit by @additiva . i find lestappen age gap SO unbelievably compelling in this fic like. it is absolutely delicious and i think will satisfy your need for age gap lestappen and like. still somehow draws in all the regular lestappen insanity....being soulmates and knowing exactly how to race each other even sort of divorced from their history and it is just Brilliant !!

sorry for not answering your question at all. i'm so glad ur excited for the fic though ily <3

#ask #i'm actually embarrassed about how much i wrote #this is just me yapping about lestappen and not answering your question at all anon. i'm so sorry #lestappen #i hate tagging it cos i don't want it to end up in the tag but. i also know some people need it blocked so...

[galaxyshine24-7]

Hi hi :)

I love ur twst silver bullet au and I read the one about yuu dancing with their old friend and was wondering if you'd ever write about the characters confronting/asking yuu about it while at the bar? I wanna know how you think things will go down if that's no too much trouble

I hope you have a great day/night!

Thank you I'm glade you enjoyed it. I'd be happy to do your request and can imagine how the twst boys would approach Yuu after everything, it's sure to be a good show.

Confrontation Silver Bullet AU🥃

The aftermath of this previous fic

TW: Possessive behavior, Stalking, Gang Activity

It was a slow day at the bar as Yuu yawned leaning against the bar. It's been a few weeks since seeing their old friend, and after that, everything went back to normal. Well almost everything, the gangs that usually frequent their bar have been absent. The bartender chalked it up to them being busy, but something in the back of their head told them it was more than that. Well, they can't do much about it now they have a bar to run.

With a sigh, they get up suddenly hearing the bell at the entrance of their establishment. Yuu puts on their best customer service smile as the face the door.

"Welcome to the Silver Bullet how can-"

"Yuu!" Ace, Deuce, Epel, Jack, and Sebek come bursting through the door.

"Oh my sevens what!?" Yuu yells back. The sudden noise causes Grim to hide under a nearby table from his napping spot as the boys tumble over to the bar.

"What were you thinking?!"

"Are you okay?!"

"Who was that you where dancing with?!"

"Do you know how much trouble you're in with the others?!"

"HOW COULD YOU NOT INVITE WAKA SAMA TO THE DANCE?!"

They all screamed causing Yuu to cover their ears.

"Woah slow down, one at a damn time! what the fuck is going on?!" Yuu yells slamming their hands on the counter.

The five of them calm down as silence falls over the bar. Yuu rubs their temple taking a deep breath.

"Now tell me what happened, one at a time." Yuu places a hand on their hip looking at the boys in front of her.

"You mean you don't know?" Jack raises a brow.

"I don't know anything." Yuu shrugs.

The boys look at each other as Deuce fishes out his phone from his pocket. He clicks on the video sent from Cater and shows it to Yuu. It's the video of Yuu dancing with their old childhood friend. Yuu grabs his phone staring with wide eyes not knowing what to say. Yuu watches till the end handing the phone back to Deuce as they take a moment to think.

"H-how did you get this?" Yuu tries their best to hold in their anger. It's likely not their fault, so they shouldn't go off on them.

"It's been passed around many of the gangs around here, nearly everyone has seen it." Ace rubs the back of his neck.

"Everyone..." Oh no. Yuu couldn't even finish their thought as the bell chimes from the entrance.

"Yuu what a pleasure it is to see Yuu." Azul sings from the doorway along with the Leech twins at his sides.

The rest of the gang leaders and members filter into the shop some giving Yuu a small wave. Azul snaps his fingers and Jade goes to lock the bar door, and Floyd flips the sign from open to close.

"Ace, Deuce what are you doing here?" Riddle steps closer to the bar.

"Oh, we're just saying hi to Yuu right guys." Ace leans against the bar looking over at his friends as they all start to nod their heads.

"Yeah, we're just passing by," Epel smiles.

"Oh really Epel, I thought I specially told you to practice your skin routines this morning and yet here you are skin dry and flaky." Vil opens his fan showing the displeasure in his eyes.

Epel gulps looking down at the floor.

Yuu places a hand on their hips giving a unamused look at the group before them.

"Okay, what is it that you want?" Yuu gestures to gang leaders.

"It has come to our attention that we haven't laid out the rules with you." Riddle speaks up swinging his Spector.

"Rules?" Yuu raises a brow crossing their arms.

"Yes, it seems you have been around some unsavory characters and since we are business partners we wanted to express our concerns along with giving some advice." Azul clears his throat.

"And what advice would that be?" Yuu asks.

"Don't hang around people we don't want you to." Leona leans back on a chair putting his feet on the table.

"Excuse me?!" Yuu raises their voice causing the others to jump a bit.

"No need to get upset dear, it will cause wrinkles." Vil cuts in.

"We saw you dancing with someone Shrimpy." Floyd comes up to the counter to rest on it giving Yuu his crazed stare.

"You two seemed awful close." Jade chuckles.

"We just wanted to know who they are is all." Azul tries to wave away the tension.

"That's none of your business." Yuu states plainly.

"No reason to get upset Child of man." Malleus finally speaks up from his spot in the shadows.

"Yes, I do have reason to be upset. I was clearly stalked, and then you all of the nerve to tell me who I can hang out with in my own time." Yuu's voice starts to get higher with every word.

"Dear Trickster please do not be to upset." Rook speaks up.

"Quiet Rook, it was probably you who took the video!" Yuu snaps back.

Rook shuts his mouth at that, the man is quiet for the first time since they met.

"Now, Now let's calm down." Trey tries to ease the tension.

"No all of you get out!"

The bar goes silent all eyes fall on Yuu.

"Yuu come on don't be mad." Cater tries to soothe the angry bartender.

"You all dare come in here and treat me like a child. I'm an adult I can do what I want and see who I want. So long as it doesn't bother your meetings you shouldn't be in my business. You don't own me okay?" Yuu states. "Now thank you all for being so concerned, but I will be taking a little break as of today." Yuu puts on a fake smile.

"Chill out it's not that serious your totally freaking out over nothing." Idia's floating tablet mumbles.

"What was that Idia, care to speak up?" Yuu glares at the tablet.

"N-no..."

"Good, now all of you get out." Yuu.

"Ha and if we don't?" Leona teases.

"Well since you can't respect me then I see no reason to continue this deal we have.

"You don't mean that right Yuu?" Kalim looks around the room in concern.

"Oh, I mean it. It seems you all need me a lot me then I need you." Yuu can see a flash of hurt behind some of their eyes, but their blood is boiling too much to feel sorry right now.

Not wanting to anger the bartender any further all the boys leave the bar. Once it's cleared Yuu switches the sign to closed not opening the bar for a few days until they can calm down.

#twisted wonderland #twst silver bullet au #silver bullet au #disney twst #disney twisted wonderland #asks #twisted wonderland x reader #my writing #twisted wonderlandxreader