#I thought I had 5 days and it turned out I had nothing and I need to accept my fate

[trashsuit]

Fuck y'all, I'm answering all of these right here, right now (if you want me to elaborate, put it in my asks)

1. River (I go by my middle name online)

2. 17, turning 18 in a few months

3. June 9 2007

4. Gemini

5. Light purple

6. 3 and 82

7. Yes, 3 cats. A calico (I think) named Millie, a light brown tortie named Marley, and a dark brown tortie named Mischief

8. Pennsylvania

9. 5'4

10. 9

11. Idk, 5-10 if I had to guess

12. I can't remember any of my dreams

13. Uh, I have talents in most of the arts, I think. I act, I sing, I play piano and guitar, and I draw and paint

14. I don't think so

15. Changes every week. Right now? Maybe Hug All Ur Friends by Cavetown

16. I don't really watch many movies, but probably Wicked

17. I'm aroace, but I'd love to live with a good friend who doesn't mind stuff like hugs and cuddles

18. Absolutely not

19. Even if I wasn't aroace, no

20. No

21. I got brain surgery when I was a few months old, but nothing since then

22. Not yet :3

23. Uh, does the actor who played The Wizard when I saw Wicked on Broadway count?

24. I prefer showers for actually cleaning myself, but I love a nice, relaxing bath

25. All of the above

26. No

27. Probably not, but I'd like to be the kind of celebrity who's only known by theatre kids and just about no one else

28. I listen to a lot of musical theatre and indie pop

29. No

30. 2, not counting stuffed animals

31. Yearner or free faller with one leg over my long stuffed animal

32. Medium, I think

33. Pillsbury strawberry cream cheese mini bagels that my school serves

34. No

35. No, but I want to

36. Skedaddle

37. Ass is one of my favorite insults

38. No clue, I usually take a lot of naps

39. Yes, across the top of my head

40. Yes I think, but his friend just tried to wingman for him, like, twice, then I was left alone

41. It depends on the lie and who I'm lying to

42. Fuck no, I don't realize people are hurting me until I'm bleeding out.

43. Yeah, I've learned through my acting class

44. I don't think so, but I've also never really left the area I grew up in enough to notice

45. I like doing a southern drawl

46. Idk what the personality types are and I don't feel like checking rn

47. By far my prom dress from last year. Most of my clothes are thrifted or from Walmart

48. Yes

49. What?

50. Right

51. Yes

52. My mom makes really good potato pancakes

53. Idk what it was called, but I had it in Japan. It was some meatballs with veggies and a really good sauce. Here's a picture (it's the stuff by the eggs)

54. Definitely messy

55. You freak/y'all freaks

56. Either fuck or freak, tbh

57. 10-15 minutes most days (if that)

58. I don't think so

59. Suck

60. Yes

61. Yes

62. I'm alright, but I'm improving with the help of a teacher

63. Probably my best friend leaving me. She's the reason I've stuck around this long, idk what I would do without her

64. Yeah

65. I genuinely can't think of one

66. I like my hair nice and short

67. *sings the 50 states song*

68. Art or history (my favorite class I take is actually theatre, but I don't think it counts)

69. It feels like it depends on the day and who I'm around

70. No

71. Almost everything, if I'm being honest (except for acting, alone or in front of a crowd)

72. Not really

73. Not really, I don't even correct people on my pronouns (I probably should tho)

74. I don't think I am

75. I don't think so, usually if I say something, I genuinely believe it, so if I did, it wasn't intentional

76. No and I don't wanna be

77. Like one sip of wine and I thought it was disgusting

78. No

79. I'm aroace, so no one

80. I have both of my earlobes pierced once and nothing else

81. Yeah

82. Not very, I'm faster on my phone than on an actual keyboard tho

83. In short bursts, like 7 mph, but I can't run a mile, I have to walk

84. Naturally, dark brown, but right now it's blue with streaks of purple

85. Hazel

86. Bactrim and possibly the sticky stuff in bandaids (I think it's latex)

87. I've tried and failed multiple times

88. My dad's a truck driver

89. It's alright, I mostly like it for theatre stuff

90. Id have to think. I'm easily annoyed or frustrated, but it takes a lot to piss me off

91. Yeah, though I kinda regret choosing such a common name. I know, like, 6 other people with my name

92. No

93. Idk, probably just a happy, healthy kid if I ever had one. I don't really care about its sex

94. Seeing the good in people

95. How trusting I am and how I try to see the good in people (that's how I keep getting hurt)

96. I kept going through baby name sites and for some reason, I really liked this one

97. No

98. Yeah, from ear to ear on top of my head

99. All of the above

100. The walls are a very light purple, but you'll find every color in there

Get To Know Me Uncomfortably Well

PLEASE DON’T LET THIS FLOP AHHHH

1. What is you middle name? 2. How old are you? 3. When is your birthday? 4. What is your zodiac sign? 5. What is your favorite color? 6. What’s your lucky number? 7. Do you have any pets? 8. Where are you from? 9. How tall are you? 10. What shoe size are you? 11. How many pairs of shoes do you own? 12. What was your last dream about? 13. What talents do you have? 14. Are you psychic in any way? 15. Favorite song? 16. Favorite movie? 17. Who would be your ideal partner? 18. Do you want children? 19. Do you want a church wedding? 20. Are you religious? 21. Have you ever been to the hospital? 22. Have you ever got in trouble with the law? 23. Have you ever met any celebrities? 24. Baths or showers? 25. What color socks are you wearing? 26. Have you ever been famous? 27. Would you like to be a big celebrity? 28. What type of music do you like? 29. Have you ever been skinny dipping? 30. How many pillows do you sleep with? 31. What position do you usually sleep in? 32. How big is your house? 33. What do you typically have for breakfast? 34. Have you ever fired a gun? 35. Have you ever tried archery? 36. Favorite clean word? 37. Favorite swear word? 38. What’s the longest you’ve ever gone without sleep? 39. Do you have any scars? 40. Have you ever had a secret admirer? 41. Are you a good liar? 42. Are you a good judge of character? 43. Can you do any other accents other than your own? 44. Do you have a strong accent? 45. What is your favorite accent? 46. What is your personality type? 47. What is your most expensive piece of clothing? 48. Can you curl your tongue? 49. Are you an innie or an outie? 50. Left or right handed? 51. Are you scared of spiders? 52. Favorite food? 53. Favorite foreign food? 54. Are you a clean or messy person? 55. Most used phrased? 56. Most used word? 57. How long does it take for you to get ready? 58. Do you have much of an ego? 59. Do you suck or bite lollipops? 60. Do you talk to yourself? 61. Do you sing to yourself? 62. Are you a good singer? 63. Biggest Fear? 64. Are you a gossip? 65. Best dramatic movie you’ve seen? 66. Do you like long or short hair? 67. Can you name all 50 states of America? 68. Favorite school subject? 69. Extrovert or Introvert? 70. Have you ever been scuba diving? 71. What makes you nervous? 72. Are you scared of the dark? 73. Do you correct people when they make mistakes? 74. Are you ticklish? 75. Have you ever started a rumor? 76. Have you ever been in a position of authority? 77. Have you ever drank underage? 78. Have you ever done drugs? 79. Who was your first real crush? 80. How many piercings do you have? 81. Can you roll your Rs?“ 82. How fast can you type? 83. How fast can you run? 84. What color is your hair? 85. What color is your eyes? 86. What are you allergic to? 87. Do you keep a journal? 88. What do your parents do? 89. Do you like your age? 90. What makes you angry? 91. Do you like your own name? 92. Have you already thought of baby names, and if so what are they? 93. Do you want a boy a girl for a child? 94. What are you strengths? 95. What are your weaknesses? 96. How did you get your name? 97. Were your ancestors royalty? 98. Do you have any scars? 99. Color of your bedspread? 100. Color of your room?

[wonderlandcrown]

𝑆𝑜𝑚𝑒𝑑𝑎𝑦 𝑀𝑦 𝑃𝑟𝑖𝑛𝑐𝑒 𝑊𝑖𝑙𝑙 𝐶𝑜𝑚𝑒

𝑉𝑖𝑙 𝑥 𝑌𝑢𝑢(𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑑𝑒𝑟)

a/n : book 5 spoilers, also Vil didn't know Jamil overbloted until book 6. reader is gn and referred to as "Yuu, the prefect, you, they/them pronouns"

genre : light angst, romance(pining)

༶•┈┈⛧┈♛💜♛┈⛧┈┈•༶

Someday my prince will come Someday I'll find my love And how thrilling that moment will be When the prince of my dreams comes to me He'll whisper, "I love you" And steal a kiss or two Though he's far away I'll find my love someday Someday when my dreams come true

Vil was reluctant to stay in Ramshackle during VDC, "A messy room equals a messy mind", is what he tells his dorm mates. Though he understood that the prefect didn't choose to stay there, Vil Schoenheit was never a fan of unclean spaces.

But Vil had bigger problems at the moment, Neige will undoubtedly show up for the competition, and his dream- no, his goal will be in jeopardy.

The headmage did say that the prefect was quite talented in bringing people together...

Fine then, if staying in a dingy dorm means having a chance at winning against Neige, he'll do it.

"How thrilling, " Vil thought, "will my moment of victory be."

Someday I'll find my love Someone to call my own And I'll know him the moment we meet For my heart will start skipping a beat Some day we'll say, "I do" Things we've been longing to Though he's far away I'll find my love someday Someday when my dreams come true

Vil noticed the scars around the prefects hands, undoubtedly the result of going through no less than 3 overblots, not to mention all of them happened under a year!

Vil scoffs, Crowley must be more incompetent than he thought if he allowed a poor defenseless student to get caught up in so much trouble; or is it Yuu who is careless?

He originally saw you akin to something like a pathetic wet cat : lost, clueless, naive.

Though he'll admit he was quite wrong, your occasional sharp jabs towards the trio of potatoes(Ace, Deuce and Grim) didn't go unnoticed by Vil. He thinks you're quite funny, you act so brazenly and sarcastic around your friends but around strangers you suddenly become quiet and well spoken, you remind him of the difference of his personalities on camera and off.

Though that's the only thing he and you have in common.

Vil remembers perfectly well the glare Yuu shot at him when he cursed the delicacies Trey gifted the younger spudlings. It was a necessary measure! You're smarter than your friends, you should understand that they would've tried to break away from the diet Vil gave them.

Vil doesn't understand, he doesn't understand those potatoes, didn't they agree to this? Don't they want to win? If they do they should listen to him, he knows what's best, he's been trained for countless competitions since he was young, these diets, these restrictions have been imposed onto him ever since then and they will be forevermore.

For them, it'll only be a moment before they're back to their normal lives, so why can't they understand? Vil understood ever since he was young, so why can't they?

He's been longing for the chance to stay on stage until the very last moment, so why can't Yuu just do what he says and help those idiots cooperate with him.

Vil pinches the bridge of his nose and sighs, he shouldn't dwell on unnecessary things for too long, lest he stray from his goal.

Somewhere waiting for me There is someone I'm longing to see Someone I simply can't help but adore Someone who'll thrill me forever

"Hey, uh, can we discuss something? "

It was already late afternoon, Epel had screamed at Vil and ran away from the dorm and one of your friends, Deuce, he remembers, ran after him. But they haven't been back.

He lets out a sigh, not bothering to hide his frustration.

"What is it?" Vil turns to face you, usually during the breaks between the VDC groups training, you pass around water bottles and some snacks(not cursed by Vil this time). Though this time you carry nothing, it's expected, the rest of the group only have a break because two of the members ran off to who knows where.

"I think you're being too harsh on them. " Vil scoffs, "Excuse me? They're the ones being too careless, they're not serious enough. " Vil glares at you, nose scrunched. You betray his expectations, really, he expected you to be more mature about this.

You only look at him in the eyes as a response, he notices your tense frame, you must've been planning to tell him this for a while now.

"..Epel ran away." Vil lifts an eyebrow, "And? Are you just here to state the obvious?" He hears you click your tongue, you're irritated with him? Why must you be so mean to him, prefect, all he wants is to win, is that so much to ask for?

"Look, I understand your efforts, what you do to achieve your dreams is commendable, really, "

Dreams? How dare you use such a childish word, the Vil Schoenheit doesn't dream, he has no time for that.

"but you need to realize that not everyone can handle, well, you. We want to win, obviously but uh, you're already so accustomed to this type of stuff but we're not.."

Hm? Oh, prefect, you're flattering him, so you're saying that he's so glamorous to the point that the normal spudlings can't even begin to compare?... Vil's kidding obviously, but the compliment has made him more inclined to listen to you.

"Dear prefect, I may see your point.. Though you must realize that diamonds are created under pressure, and the headmage has been far too lenient." You sigh, brows furrowed, "Tell me about it.. Again, you're not wrong, there are limits. Even the seemingly strong gems can crack if they have internal flaws."

My, isn't this new.. Prefect, it's been quite the long time since someone dared to question him, in such an interesting way no less.. Most people either agree with no objections or slander his views vehemently (Rook and Epel, Vil's looking at you) Congratulations are in order for managing to intrigue Vil of all people.

You're confused on why Vil's smiling, so.. fondly at you, did you do something wrong?

"Prefect, if you don't mind, how do you feel about joining my nightly routine tomorrow, I think you have many interesting topics to share with me."

Someday my prince will come Someday I will find the one Though he's far away he'll find my love someday Someday when my dreams come true Oh, please make my dreams come true

"The winner of VDC is.. ROYAL SWORD ACADEMY, LED BY THE ONE AND ONLY NEIGE LEBLANCHE!"

The crowd cheers endlessly, Vil feels his heart grow heavy with that same, twisting, horrendously ugly feeling of envy. His feet feel like they're on fire and Vil has to pretend the camera flashes are irritating him in order to blink back the tears.

It's ok, it's fine, the loser has to fall and Vil feels like he's been plummeting since then, now, and perhaps forevermore.(please don't let it be so)

It's even worse when Neige pulls him into an encore, his hand pressing on one of the bruises on his arm, a scar gained from his overblot. But Vil's heart only winces when he thinks of you, he thinks of your scars, you must have so many, you've been through so much..

Vil is so, so sorry, he wants to cry and beg for your forgiveness, for Rook's, for Epel's, for everyone's forgiveness. What he did was so stupidly immature, how could he just betray his own expectations, everyone expected Vil Schoenheit to be level headed, mature, and beautiful. So why? Why must he be everything except that?

Everything after his overblot was a blur, really. He thought his career would go up on smoke, everything he worked for would've been gone. Vil stared at his phone, waiting for a ping from his manager, informing him that his overblot, his weakest moment, was leaked for the whole world to see. Vil sits at the vanity, normally he would be staring into his reflection, but now he can't even bear the thought of looking at the mirror.

Suddenly he was met with a knock on his door.

"I'm not expecting visitors, if it's not urgent then go find Rook, or the prefect."

"Vil, I am the prefect."

Vil immediately sits up right, brushing away the few strands of stray hair, before inviting you in. "Come on in."

You quickly slip inside his room, closing the door behind you with a click, Vil tilts his head, usually he would never do this, unbefitting of the mature image of Vil Schoenheit, but since it's you, he finds himself at ease without putting on his performative mask. "I see you want privacy, is it personal?"

"Yeah, I.. wanted to see how you're doing. " Vil doesn't hold back the bittersweet smile, "You really are kind, don't worry about me, you should've ran away when you saw me overblot, why didn't you?"

Why didn't you? You should've ran away the moment you saw blot dripping from his lips and eyes, yet you stayed, you stayed during his overblot and all the others. Vil wants to know, how is one person so caring yet sarcastic, so plain yet so interesting, so normal yet.. Vil feels like he's never met someone like you before.

"Why didn't I? What kind of question is that, the better question is how could I leave a friend during his weakest moments?"

See? Caring yet sarcastic, Vil giggles at your response, "You should know when to stop helping people, dear. One day you'll get irreversibly wounded and there's nothing I could do to help you at that point." Vil's tone is light, though he feels an aching sensation when he imagines a fatally wounded Yuu.

You sigh, taking a step closer to Vil, "I'm not that weak, so don't think of stuff like that." The housewarden of Pomefiore only gives a tired smile, plain yet so interesting, he thinks. You're a magicless being somehow willed with such tenacity that befits the values of the Beautiful Queen, Vil might be inclined to take a few lessons from you.

It takes a while before Vil notices you're staring at him, you look at him as if you were looking at a poor, caged animal. "..Is there something else you want to tell me?" You don't respond, you only continue to look at him, at his clothes, at his hair, then you stare at him in the eye.

Vil feels a lump form in his throat, you're looking at him in such a humane way, not the lovesick expressions usually adorned on his fans, not the scowls of jealousy from the haters. You look at him as if you see something beyond the masks he wears.

Unlike what most people think, Vil Schoenheit actually has two masks, one he adorns when the camera rolls, which from there he has many others to choose from. The second he wears to retain the strict and regal image of Pomefiore, the one who rules this dorm with an iron fist, where he is both hated and loved.(not that much different from his career)

But you, you're looking at none of the two, he never saw anyone else other than his own father and Rook wear this expression. Someone who sees beyond what is presented to them.

"You're tired." Vil finally hears you say something, "I'll go draw you a bath." Your words were authoritative and left no room for arguement, it reminds Vil of himself. As the actor watches you walk into his bathroom he feels a warm sensation course through him, it's been quite the long time since he was the one on the receiving end of these affections.

No, affections is too intimate a word, but Vil can't think of any other way to describe it.

You can't see his expression now, prefect, but do know that you made Vil Schoenheit of all people cover his face to hide his blush and smile. So normal yet Vil's never met anyone else like you.

Vil hears the sound of water flowing coming from the bathroom, he hopes you finish your task soon, Vil has never felt what yearning for another's presence was like until now.

Vil already has his hunter and poison apple, so tell him what you'll be? What role will you take on to complete the Beautiful Queen's camaraderie? Will you be his raven, dutiful, working from the shadows; or his mirror : showing him what you see, beyond what Vil presents himself to be.

Vil shall wait for your answer, prefect.

♬♩♪♩ ♩♪♩♬

a/n : someday my prefect will come - vil schoenheit. first fanfic tbh, there were pacing issues but I don't think it's that bad for a first timer. reblogs are appreciated

[pricesprincess]

Hi! I was wondering if you were willing to write for Price using prompt #5 from list 2? Thank you! 🥰

18+ mdni - prompts

hello! this was so much fun to write! thank you for sending one in! 🥰

tags: fem reader with a bush + explicit smut + I gave him a domesticity/housewife kink whatever you wanna call it lmao

Heat came in waves, taking away the sweet spring air, turning the days into a muggy nightmare, suffocating everything in a heat that made it hard to breathe and caused you to sweat when you stepped outside, but at least it gave you an excuse to buy new swimsuits.

John handed you his card when you told him that you were going shopping for the upcoming vacation you both had planned. It was a weekend getaway at a hotel—nothing fancy. Still, it was where you two could focus on each other, ignoring everything and everyone.

You knew that your husband got a hard-on anytime he knew he was taking real good care of you, judging by that smile that curled your lips and the way you smothered him in sweet honey kisses.

Paperwork kept him tied to his desk at home, going over the monthly bills, something he never wanted you to worry your pretty little head about but he'd never stop you from getting a job if you wanted it.

It didn't take long for you to grab a few bathing suits, cover ups, and a sundress you knew would rile John up. One was skimpy, the fabric barely covering anything, and that would be the first one you would show off. It made you flush thinking about his reaction.

Twenty minutes after swiping the card, you slipped into the tobacco shop to pick out a few cigars for John before your car was pulling up into the driveway, your fingers clutching the bags when you got out.

Excitement fizzled in your veins as you hurried inside, shutting the door with your foot calling out to John. "Honey, I'm home!" You giggled hearing his footsteps from upstairs to greet you.

John always said that when he came home and you picked up on it quickly. "Get everythin' you needed luv?" He asked with a slight hum looking at the the bags in your hand. You nodded and wrapped one arm around his waist to nuzzle your face into him inhaling deeply.

"Yes, and more, sit on the couch for me please baby. I have something to show you." John let you gently push him toward the living room watching him plop down on the middle of the couch.

He leaned back, spreading his legs tapping his knee. "What are you up to?" He drawled in that thick accent that made you ache. Your giggles filled the air as you walked into the kitchen to shed your clothes letting it pool at your ankles before pulling out the first suit.

This one was the tamest of them all, a one piece that had your tits pressed together and hugged your curves. Once the straps were in place you grabbed the box of cigars and poked your head out.

"Shut your eyes please!" You sang hearing John chuckle before you tip-toed out to the living room to stand close to him. "Open."

You could feel the heat licking down your spine and pool in your tummy as John's eyes assessed you, starting from your flustered face to your pedicured toes. "Turn for me darlin', let me see."

You giggled and obeyed turning around with a twirl then you placed the box of cigars on his knee with a wink. "I have a few more, didn't know which one was the best for our vacation. Do you like?"

John rubbed at his beard, his heavy eyes on you making you shift. "Like? No, lovie. You look stunnin', good enough to eat." His praise made your skin burst with heat as you giggled and hurried to the kitchen stripping once more to pull on the skimpy bathing suit.

The other suits would have to be shown off later because if John thought the one piece was stunning? This one was sure to have his jaw on the floor, the cool air from the ac made you shiver before stepping out into the living room again humming John's name.

"Bloody hell, you're goin' to kill me." He muttered, his eyes latched onto the way your tits jiggled, the thin fabric barely hiding the stiff peak of our nipple and the pubic hair peaking from the sides of the bottom of your suit making his cock twitch in his pants.

You stepped closer, swaying your hips until you perched on his knee, your hands resting on his lower stomach watching the way he unashamedly checked you out like it was his first time seeing you.

His rough fingers grazed over your soft belly hearing how your breath hitched just from his touch then his mouth was on yours and he was shifting you to straddle him feeling the bulge of his dick throbbing against the thin material covering your slick pussy.

You leaned forward wrapping your arms around his neck, your tongue glided against his before twirling them together as his fingers played with the ends of the ties before slowly tugging letting your top fall loose, your tits bare and your stiff nipples brush against his shirt.

John's breath fanned against your neck as his tongue traced your erratic pulse chuckling when you gasped, your fingers curled into his shirt humping him, your clit aching to be played with, licked, sucked.

"My dirty girl, wearin' practically nothin' on our vacation, desperate for some attention?" He rasped, mocking you knowing how it gets your cunt dripping wet for him, you rolled your eyes playfully and shrugged as you leaned in and kissed him, nipping his bottom lip.

The space between you grew hotter as your breaths mingled together, his fingers tracing your nipples before pinching them making you squeal and hump him again, your hips working to find your orgasm but John grasped your hips stopping you.

You opened your mouth to say something but John had shifted and pinned you under him, your legs wrapping around his waist while he flipped your bathing suit top to bare your tits to his greedy gaze.

John stared at you, his hand roaming your stomach and chest watching you squirm and giggle. "Needy and responsive, I'm one lucky bastard." He rasped, his fingers trailing down to the hem of your bottoms barely sliding in to graze against the slick making his fingers sticky.

"Fuckin' drippin' for me." He sighed letting his fingers dip lower until he was rubbing your clit making you moan and hips to roll.

comments and reblogs are appreciated ♡

[wosospacegirl]

And they were roommates - part 6

Summary: Y/n gets injured and has to stay in recovery for 8 months. It's a good thing her friend and teammate Kyra is more than willing to move in with her. wink wink

Warnings: making out sessions getting interrupted :(

Word count: 5.4k

Masterlist

| PART 1 | PART 2 | PART 3 | PART 4 | PART 5 |

..

When the convocation of Australia, England and Spain came out Y/n was alone in the physio room at Arsenal while her other teammates were out on the pitch training,

It felt bittersweet.

She saw the names of her dear friends, and she saw Kyra’s name, which made her so proud, but she didn’t see her name. And she wasn’t going to. It would take more than just getting back into shape after her tibia had completely healed.

Y/n would have to work harder and train harder to prove she was even better than before to have another chance of being called into her national team.

Before, being in the squad had been a certainty in her life because of her great performance as a defender.

Now it wasn’t.

But she realised she wasn’t as sad as she thought she would be. Seeing Kyra’s name on Matilda’s squad was enough for her for now.

Y/n just had to learn to stay on the sidelines and, for the first time in her life, enjoy the football experience without being a player. Y/n would now begin her work as a hyper girl. As soon as she finished her exercises in physio she would look for Kyra and wish her–

“Oh, there you are!”

A voice said from the door of the physio room, ruining Y/n plans.

Y/n turned her head to the side and saw a man with a camera in his hand. It was Greg, the head director of Arsenal Media. He was a sweet middle-aged man, but the look on his face said he wasn't having the best day.

“Oh, hi, good morning,” Y/n said, tilting her head at him. “Can I help you, Greg?”

Y/n looked around the empty room, and then back at Greg.

“Oh yes,” he said bluntly. “We’re filming some content today, for YouTube and Instagram.”

“Okay? I think all the girls are out doing drills, they’re not here–”

“The team’s filming a Q&A with Russo, Williamson, and Wälti today,” he continued, completely ignoring Y/n.

“But the Wälti’s cat died so–”

“Lia's cat died?!” Y/n interrupted, her eyebrows raised as she sat on the physio bed. “That’s terrible.”

Damn, Lia loved that cat. Y/n should call her and ask if there’s going to be a funeral.

“Yeah yeah, whatever” Greg waffed. “She said she’s not coming to Arsenal today, so that's why we need you.”

“Me?” Y/n swallowed and pointed at herself.

“Yeah, Williamson said you'd be a good fit, she said you liked being in front of the cameras.”

Fuck you, Leah.

Y/n had been pretty ‘low profile’ since her injury. She hasn’t given any kind of interviews or statements. She hasn’t been to any Arsenal games to watch the girl. Nothing. She hasn’t even posted on her Instagram stories.

She used to like it. The cameras. The interviews. The attention. But not anymore. Y/n didn’t want people to see her injured, to think that she was any less of a player now. She didn’t want people to feel pity or sorry for her.

“Plus, we don't have anyone else,” Greg said, pinching his nose.

The man was stressed.

“How can you not have anyone else? There are about 25 people on this team.”

“We need someone with a personality, and you’re the least bad option I have at the moment.”

Y/n pointed at her leg. “I can guarantee to you, Greg, I’m not much fun to be around right now.”

“Yeah but–”

“Come on Y/n, don't give Greg here a hard time” Leah walked unexpectedly into the room and patted Greg on the shoulder.

Alessia was standing next to her.

“She doesn’t want to do it,” Greg said.

Snitch, Greg, that’s what you are.

“Of course, she doesn't want to. But she will,” Leah said smiling. “Because we need our charming, funny, and charismatic defender back on media day.”

“Are you on drugs right now? You’ve never complimented me before.”

“I'm trying to be nice,” Leah said, the smile on her face changing to a frown. “Alessia told me to be nicer to you.”

“It's scaring me,” Y/n said.

“See Alessia, I told you, being nice isn't our thing,” Leah said, pointing at herself and then at Y/n.

“Can't you two interact without bumping heads?” Alessia asked, looking like a mom who was tired of seeing her children fighting over and over again. “Just for one day, please?”

“No,” Y/n and Leah said in unison.

Alessia rolled her eyes and ignored them.

Alessia sat down by the physio bed, next to Y/n and wrapped her arms around her. “It’ll be fun, Y/n, I promise! It’s just me, you and Leah.”

“I just know one of the questions will be about my recovery” Y/n said, looking down. “I don’t feel like talking about it yet.”

“It’s been what? 2 and a half months since you got injured?” Leah asked. “You can dodge the questions forever, it’s better to talk about it while we’re doing some stupid card game rather than to give an interview. You can’t hide forever.”

Leah was right. But Y/n wanted to hide forever, at least until her bone grew back, at least. If it wasn't for Kyra and her patience and support, Y/n wouldn’t even be leaving the house.

“I just hate looking like this,” Y/n said, pointing at the cast, “I don’t feel like an athlete… I feel useless.”

Guess it was time to talk about feelings. Uhg.

“You’re no less of an athlete because of an injury,” Alessia said, patting her back. “If people didn’t see you as a player anymore, they wouldn't be asking for you to give interviews, or for you to come to our matches.”

“You make it sound like people only care about you when you’re active and playing, and that’s not true,” Alessia continued. “You mean something to Arsenal, you’ve been here for years. Not as much as Leah, of course, she’s been here since the year dot–”

“Hey!” Leah huffed.

Alessia ignored her. “What I’m trying to say is, that the Arsenal fans miss you, you pretty much disappeared from the public eye after your injury.”

Again, Alessia was not wrong.

“Come on, let’s go, I'm not as patient as Alessia and I miss having you at media day.” Leah nonchalantly picked up Y/n’s crutches that were leaning against the wall and handed them to her.

“I. Don't. Want. To” Y/n said slowly, marking each word as she pushed the crutches away from her face. “Get Kyra or Vic to do it.” Y/n pointed her finger in the air as if she had a eureka moment. “Get Beth! Beth loves to talk.”

“I don’t like listening to Beth!” Leah bit back. “She never shuts up”

“It’ll be fun!” Alessia, said, interrupting the bickering again. “It’s just a questions game like we used to–”

“She’s literally one of our best friends, Leah,” Y/n said, rolling her eyes. “You should try to be nice to her, not me–”

“Before I broke my bone?” Y/n completed.

There was a moment of silence.

“Yeah!” Alessia said innocently, smiling.

Alessia took the crutches from Leah, wrapped one hand around Y/n’s body and helped her to her feet. Y/n had no choice but to take the crutches so she wouldn't fall.

“Russo.” Y/n said in a warning, standing up and squinting her eyes at the blonde. “You’re even worse than Leah. Traidor.”

“ filming starts in 15 minutes,” Greg said impatiently from the corner of the room. “Wear your full kit, please.”

The man left the room. Poor Greg, he had to listen to her, Leah and Alessia yapping non-stop. His day had probably just got worse.

“I hate you all,” Y/n muttered but followed the girls as they left the physio room and headed for the changing room, just a few doors to the left. “Just wait till I get my leg back together, I’ll destroy you both in training…”

The two players ignored Y/n.

They entered the changing room and each of them went to their own lockers to pick up their change of clothes.

“They just want an update on how you’re doing, ” Leah said, a few lockers on her right, putting on her Arsenal shirt and looking in the small mirror on the wall “It’s not that hard.”

“They could just read my medical report, then,” Y/n said, picking up her own shirt.

She hesitated for a moment. She hasn’t worn an Arsenal shirt since her injury. It felt wrong, somehow, wearing it and not playing. Especially as the shirt had been in her locker since her injury, she hadn’t brought it home to wash it, it had a faint smell of dust from being in the locker for two months.

Y/n ignored her rambling thoughts and finally put the goddamn shirt on. Red always looked good on her, but today the colour felt off as if it was mocking her.

“Why are you being so difficult? It's just another video for media day,” Leah said again. “Nobody likes media day, we just have to do it”

“I like media days,” Alessia chimed in from the corner, putting her hair in a low bun. “At least we get to skip some parts of practice.”

“Why do you care if I’m in the video or not,” Y/n asked Leah, ignoring Alessia’s comment. “When you were injured you weren’t on media day duties.”

“Of course I wasn't, I was so snappy they gave up on trying to film me,” Leah said as she sat down and put on her boots.

“Oh, so that’s how you got away with it!” Y/n said, “I guess I’ll be snappy too!”

Y/n remembered when Leah got injured some seasons ago. The woman was completely impossible to be around. For a whole month, she could only talk to Leah on the phone because she refused to meet in person. Of course, Y/n, Alessia and the other girl stayed by her side until she got better.

Now it was Leah and Alessia’s turn to stand by her side. Y/n wasn’t so sure if she liked it.

“If Lia’s cat had just held on a little longer, I wouldn’t have to do this,” Y/n mumbled, “How old was he anyway? I feel like she had that cat forever”

“15 years,” Alessia said. “Poor thing had a whole life ahead of him,”

“No, it didn't. It was a geriatric cat,” Leah said. “But don’t tell Lia I said that she’s very sad it died.”

“Don’t call him it, Leah!” Alessia complained.

“Maybe we could come to Lia’s house later today,” Y/n suggested. “Check up on her, see how she’s doing.”

Lia was a sweetheart to her, it was the least Y/n and the other girls could do.

“Yeah, that’s a good idea,” Alessia agreed. “We can stop somewhere and bring her some food, too.”

“Alright, sounds nice!” Y/n said. “Kyra can drive us, we just have to wait until she’s done with the drills and training.”

Y/n didn’t even ask Kyra if she could drive them to Lia’s or if she wanted to go to Lia’s, but Y/n was sure she wouldn’t mind.

“You know, I was living for the day I would see you as a passenger princess,” Leah teased. “Now tell me, is Kyra that much of a good driver?”

Y/n took a boot from the cubby next to her and threw it playfully at Leah.

“Shut up, man!”

Leah nudged the boot and threw it back at Y/n. She aimed it at Y/n and it hit her right on the head.

"Wow. Hitting a disabled person. New low, Leah." Y/n pouted, patting the sore spot where the boot had just hit.

Leah shrugged, “You started it.”

“Can you two stop throwing things around?” Alessia asked, picking up the boot from the floor, scared Y/n would retaliate. “And that's Kim’s boot, she hates people touching her things.”

“She shouldn't be leaving her stuff scattered around, then,” Y/n said, chin up.

“Bro you took it out of her cubby,” Leah chimed in.

The door suddenly opened and one of the girls from the media said they had everything ready to start. The girls nodded and said they’d be right out.

“Wow, I thought that was Kim for a second,” Alessia said, putting her hand on her chest.

“Me too, I was afraid I was going to get hit twice today,” Y/n said, smiling as Leah nudged her shoulder playfully.

“Come on, the quicker we do it the quicker we finish it,” Leah said, helping Y/n on her crutches as they headed for the media room.

“Here we go,” Y/n said, not very enthusiastically.

..

Y/n, Alessia and Leah sat at a table with cards in the middle. The mediator of the dynamic was behind the camera, telling the girls that he would chip in when needed.

Arsenal had asked for a natural, chatty video, so that’s what the three girls would do.

The camera was rolling and Y/n was nervous. But she didn’t want people to know that, so she played it cool.

Alessia read the first question on the card and aimed it at Y/n and Leah.

“Y/n, how does it feel to be off the pitch for so long, and Leah, how do you feel as a captain when a player gets injured?”

Alessia gave Y/n a sad look, knowing the girl didn't want to talk about the injury, yet it was the first question that was drawn on the card.

Y/n hesitated, she opened her mouth, but no words came out.

So much for playing cool.

Y/n looked at Leah, a silent cry for help.

Y/n gave Leah a grateful look and nodded as the captain spoke.

“I’ve been in Y/n’s shoes before with my ACL, as you guys know. I was out of the pitch for 9 months, so a whole season and it was very hard,” Leah said, patting Y/n’s leg behind the table as if saying I got you.“Surgery is hard, physio is hard, being off the pitch is hard, seeing yourself without football is hard.”

“It’s more mentally challenging than people think it is,” Leah continued, as Alessia nodded at her as well. “And as captains, we have to help our players by being a safe place for them to talk when they need to, and of course, give them a little push if necessary,” Leah smiled at Y/n.

“When I got injured, having Kim as a captain by my side was very important for my recovery. She pushed me more and more and that’s one of the reasons why I’m here today, so yeah, we captains are annoying but I’d say we’re necessary.”

“And Y/n, do you think your teammates are a vital part of your recovery process?” The man behind the camera asked, clearly wanting Y/n to address her injury somehow, not just Leah.

Y/n hesitated again, but this time she pulled herself together and formed actual words and sentences.

“Oh, yeah, definitely,” Y/n said, her hands shaking slightly.

Why was this so hard to talk about?

“They’re more than my teammates, they’re my friends,” Y/n continued. “Leah and Alessia have been a big part of this recovery, they always try to push me so I can be in the best mental and physical state possible.”

“We’ve seen you get closer to other teammates as well after your injury too, right?” The man asked.

Fuck, that was one of the few questions Y/n absolutely wasn’t prepared to answer. She had to turn this around somehow.

Y/n blushed, she just hoped it didn’t get on camera. But for the looks Alessia and Leah gave her, her embarrassment was very clear.

“Hmm, yeah, I mean, they all are all my support network at the moment, since my family is in a completely different country.”

Y/n tried to dodge the question. She knew exactly the answer the man was looking for, but she didn’t know if she should be mentioning Kyra. Again, it was not a secret they lived together, but Y/n didn’t want everyone to pry too much into their lives.

“But there’s one particular teammate who’s been helping you out more. You even moved in with her? Cooney-Cross?” The man continued.

Y/n could kill this media guy.

If Y/n’s blush had been subtle, it wasn’t now.

Y/n went silent, but the man behind the camera urged her to speak.

“Yeah, I mean, I needed someone to help me around, and my mum couldn’t come live with me, so Kyra offered and—uh—she drives me to physio, and we watch films sometimes—uh, a lot actually—like, not all the time, just—uh—yeah… and we cook sometimes, but not in a weird way, I mean, obviously not weird, just…”

“This is painful to watch, you’re embarrassing,” Leah murmured under her breath, enough so that only she and Alessia could hear.

“Medicines! She reminds me to take my medicines and she—uh—makes sure I don’t fall over in the shower.–”

“What she’s trying to say is that Kyra is very supportive,” Alessia said finally, looking at Y/n, her eyes screaming ‘Shut up, right now you’re making a fool of yourself’.

Leah was a decent friend and cut Y/n’s suffering short by picking up the next card.

The camera continued to roll. The next questions were less personal and more professional, based on actual football rather than Y/n’s private life, so she relaxed more and answered the questions without sounding stupid.

When they were finished the man behind the camera said they were free to go on with their day.

“Was that bad?” Y/n asked the girls as they left the media room.

“It was horrible,” Leah said.

“I bit, yeah. Sorry.” Alessia said.

“You and Kyra need to figure out whatever it is you guys have going on, you can’t freeze up and start rambling nonsense every time her name comes up!” Leah said, rolling her eyes.

Y/n blushed, again.

“Me and Kyra have nothing going on– we’re just good friends and– best friends even and we–”

“See! Rambling!” Leah pointed out.

“Look, I know you’re private about your love life, and I get it, and so do I,” Leah continued. “But me and Alessia have known you forever and we can tell that you’re in love, so there’s no need to try and keep it from us.”

“Besides, Kyra kind of told me she liked you a few weeks ago, so there’s no need to hide that from us,” Alessia added.

There was a moment of silence.

“Kyra said she liked me?” Y/n asked, trying to sound casual.

Y/, and Kyra had been living together for two months now, they had a well-established routine and from the outside, it looked like they had been dating for years.

They kissed and made out all the time. But still, they haven’t had the talk about what they are, because it just didn't feel necessary. Maybe they would never have that conversation and that was more than okay for Y/n. They were just living in the moment.

But to know that Kyra liked her enough to go and tell Alessia? It felt amazing. As if she was sure now that it wasn’t one-sided. Kyra felt something for her, she liked her.

Kyra wasn’t kissing her or spending time with her just because she felt sorry for her. She actually liked Y/n.

Kyra liked Y/n, and Y/n liked Kyra back very much.

Y/n wanted their relationship to be private, not a secret, so it was nice that at least Leah and Alessia knew about it, even if only superficially, so she didn't have to sit down with them and have an awkward talk about it.

Especially with Leah. The girls were closer friends, but they did have a hard time talking about feelings. The last time Leah had told Y/n she was seeing someone she had said she felt like someone was squeezing her chest. Y/n had told her it was love.

“You’re grinning,” Leah said. “Keep that to your lover girl, please. It's disgusting.”

See? Feelings.

Y/n and the other girls walked down the corridor of Arsenal, and when she turned left, Leah and Alessia turned right.

“Where are you guys going?” Y/n asked, confused.

“Oh– we have pitch training right now with the defenders and other forwards,” Alessia said softly as if she didn't want to upset Y/n. “The midfielders just finished their training so–”

“Oh yeah, of course,” Y/n said, faking a smile. “Go on, good training.” She said before turning around and heading for the changing room.

It didn't matter how hard they tried, Y/n still felt like an outsider because of her Injury. She felt like the only kid whose mum wouldn't let her go to a sleepover when the girl had to go to the pitch to play.

Y/n opened the door to the changing room and was more than surprised to see Kyra sitting on one of the benches with her back to her.

Y/n’s sad face quickly turned into a grin when she realised that Kyra was shirtless, just wearing her sports bra and training bottoms.

“Oh hello there,” Y/n said as she walked closer to Kyra. “It’s so hot in here, isn’t it?” Y/n said, waving herself cheekily.

Kyra turned around, smiling. “Hey, gorgeous. Come here.” Kyra patted her own tight.

Y/n put the crutches on the bench and carefully Sat cross-legged on Kyra’s lap. Y/n kissed her face.

“You smell like grass,” She said

“Good thing it's grass and not sweat.”

“Well since you bought it up, sweat too, I was just trying to be nice,” Y/n laid her head on Kyra's shoulder.

“You’re never nice to me,” Kyra said, a fake pout on her face.

“I am, I'm always very–” she kissed Kyra on the lips. “–very nice to you.”

“Try harder,” Kyra said, enjoying the kisses.

“Okay,” Y/n kissed Kyra more deeply, slipping her tongue into her mouth.

“It's it nice enough?”

“I'll think about it and I'll let you know,” Kyra teased.

“You're annoying, no more kisses for you,” Y/n mumbled but still pecked Kyra’s cheek.

“Please? A few more just because I’ve called to the Matildas?” Kyra asked.

Ym smiled and kissed Kyra's nose, then her chin. “Just because you got called up and I'm so proud of you.”

“I was so nervous I wouldn't get in,” Kyra said, stroking Y/n's good leg. “I was in the gym when Steph and Caitlin told me we were all in, it was like I could breathe again.

“You deserve it, baby, Y/n said, wrapping her arms around Kyra's shoulder to balance herself. “You've worked very hard.”

“How’s your day so far? I haven’t seen you on the bench on the pitch today,” Kyra said. Y/n’s breath was warm against Kyra's neck, her fingers tracing small circles on her back.

“I was at physio, and then I had to do some media bullshit,” Y/n mumbled. “Just so you know, don’t watch the next YouTube video on Arsenal’s channel, okay?”

Kyra laughed. “Why? Why did you say that?”

“Well, they brought you up and my brain just froze and I started rambling, but Alessia and Leah pulled me out of my misery as soon as they could.

“Oh? You rambled? Kyra said teasingly, kissing Y/n’s cheek. “You get nervous talking about me? That’s cute.”

“Don’t say it like that, come on” Y/n blushed. “I just wasn’t prepared for them to talk about living together, it caught me off guard.”

“I'll watch the video, just so you know.”

“No, you won’t not.”

“I will, we will be watching it together actually, I wanna see you squirm.”

Kyra’s hand slipped up Y/n’s leg, now almost to the end of her tight. The touch sent shivers down her spine. She pulled back slightly pulled back, her lips brushing Kyra’s ear.

“There are different ways you could make me squirm, you know.” she said against Kyra’s mouth. “fingers, tongue, str–”

Y/n wasn’t a sex freak, but oh God did she want to take the cast off completely so she couldn't finally have sex with Kyra.

Kyra put her palm over Y/n’s mouth. “How are you so blunt?” she said whisper-yelling and looking around the room.

“I just am,” Y/n whispered-yelled back. “why are we whispering there’s no one here, everybody’s…”

The door to the changing room cracked open, and for a split second, it seemed as if the universe was playing a joke on Y/n and Kyra. The girls’ heads turned at the sound of the doorknob.

Beth walked in, her innocent eyes trailing the room until they landed on Y/n and Kyra.

Kyra went pale as Y/n’s stomach dropped.

Beth froze when she saw Kyra and Y/n, a grin on her face replacing the innocent expression from before as she examined the position Y/n and Kyra were in very carefully.

“Am I interrupting something?” She said, wiggling her eyebrows. “You two look very comfortable.”

Y/n and Kyra looked at Beth like a deer caught in headlights.

“I got a cramp in my good leg,” Y/n said quickly and defensively while trying to leave Kyra’s lap. “so I had to– hm– sit down.”

“And there weren’t enough benches so she had to sit –on, hm– my tight,” Kyra finished, blushing hard. “Yep, that’s pretty much what happened!”

Beth looked at them like they were idiots.

“One, two,” Beth counted, pointing to each bench available in the room. “Three, four and five. Five branches available for Y/n” She said, smirking. “You’re a bad liar Cooney-cross, it causes me physical pain.”

Y/n struggled but was eventually able to sit down next to Kyra, but she kept a very safe distance.

“I’m not lying!” Kyra stammered, blushing even more. “I just offered my injured friend a place to–”

“Injured friend?!” Y/n turned to Kyra. “Are you serious?”

“What?!” Kyra shrugged in confusion.

Before Y/n could open her mouth, Beth was already speaking.

“You know what, I’m going to spare you both from whatever the hell that was,” Beth said, walking straight to her cubby “I just wanted to grab this,” she pointed at her shin pads now in hand. “I didn’t mean to intrude on a private moment.”

Y/n wanted to slap the grin off Beth’s face. She was enjoying herself far too much. The girl breathed in and out, trying, trying to think of how to handle the situation or rather, how to handle Beth.

“We can just never mention it again,” Y/n suggested, trying to sound chill.

Yn looked at Kyra out of the corner of her eye and it pretty much looked like Kyra was silently panicking. She was looking at the ceiling, not making eye contact with either Beth or Y/n, while her hands tapped anxiously on her own tight.

So much for trying to act cool.

“Oh no babe, I’m never letting this go.” Beth replied with a mischievous smile “I’m saying I’ll spare you both now because I'm late for the drills.”

“But we’ll talk about this on the way to Lia’s house,” she continued, the grin on her face stronger than ever, “ Leah tells me Kyra is driving you all to Lia’s, do you have a seat for me?”

“Yes, we got one last spot,” y/n mumbled, looking hopelessly at Beth.

Her plan to keep her relationship with Kyra on the download had just gone down the drain. Beth was an amazing friend, but the girl couldn’t keep a secret if her life depended on it. She would eventually let it slip what she had seen in the changing room to the other girls. Beth just couldn’t help herself.

“Great!” She walked to the door. “Bye, lovebirds!”

Kyra's hands immediately shot up to cover her flushed cheeks “Oh God, that was so embarrassing!”

Kyra didn’t mind being seen with Y/n. To be honest she wanted the whole world to know it already. But at the same time, she wanted to keep what they had private. She wanted the affection and the sweet touches to stay in between them.

The less people knew the less they could pry on them. Although Kyra knew it wouldn’t last long, the Arsenal team was very close, they were more than a team, they were a real family.

Fortunately, there was no taboo about dating among players, especially at Arsenal, one of the clubs with the most couples.

Y/n smiled and reached over, gently pulling Kyra’s hands away from her face. She kissed the back of Kyra’s hand. “It’s okay, baby.”

“They’ll know eventually,” Y/n said softly but firmly. “Besides, it wasn’t that bad.”

Kyra’s tensed body slowly relaxed at Y/n's touch.

“Hey,” Y/n said, lifting Kyra’s chin so she was looking at her. “It’s not a big deal, okay?” She planted a gentle kiss on Kyra’s cheek.

“But you were straddling me,” Kyra murmured.

“So? It still could be a lot worse, trust me.” Y/n said with a warm smile, trying to reassure the girl. “Katie and Caitlin were much worse, don’t you remember?”

“Oh yeah, and Beth and Viv didn’t know what personal space was,” Kyra chuckled, before turning serious again as the realisation set in.

“Bloody hell Steph and Caitlin are going to tease the hell out of me, just like I did when they started their relationships.”

Kyra looked devastated. It was cute.

“Karma, baby,” Y/n joked, trying to ease Kyra’s nerves. “You’ll get through, yeah?”

“Whose side are you on?” Kyra asked grumpily.

“Yours, always.”

Y/n leaned back against the bench and picked up her crutches. “Don’t worry about it, yeah?” her tone was reassuring. “We'll figure it out. But now I have to go to my medical exam, I think the doctor is already waiting for me… you make me lose track of time,” she grinned at Kyra.

Before Y/n could walk away, Kyra grabbed her hip. “Hey, what was Beth talking about before? About going to Lia’s house?” Kyra asks, confused.

“Well, as my favourite driver, you were chosen to drive me, Less, Leah and, now Beth to Lia’s, her cat died,” Y/n said, patting Kyra’s cheek.

“Her cat died?!” Kyra asked, eyebrows raised. “Oh damn, I’ll have to pay Katie.

Y/n furrowed her brows. “What do you mean?”

“I bet the cat would last another year,” Kyra admitted, a slight blush on her cheeks. “Katie said it would be dead within a few months.”

Y/n was silent.

“It was Katie’s idea!” Kyra said, holding up both hands defensively.

“You bet on Lia's cat’s life?” Y/n said, her mouth hanging open. “That’s like so fucked up, mate.”

Y/n rolled her eyes. “Of course it was, and you just went along with it, didn’t you?”

Kyra gave her a cheeky smile. “That’s correct.”

“Hm, you pest,” Y/n muttered, giving Kyra one last kiss. “We’ll go after the drill is over, yeah? We can meet in the car park.”

“Okay, I’ll wait by the car,” Kyra said.

“You don’t mind driving us, do you?” Y/n asked just for the fun of it, she already knew the answer. “I didn’t even ask you.”

“Nope, I don’t mind as long as you sit in the passenger seat,” Kyra said teasingly, her thumb caressing Y/n’s skin.

“Good girl,” Y/n said with the same teasing tone. “Now please put your shirt back on or else I won't answer for my actions.”

“You are a pervert,” Kyra said, rolling her eyes, but doing as she was told.

“Yes, that's me!” Y/n said, before blowing a kiss and leaving the room. “See you later, babe.”

..

| PART 1 | PART 2 | PART 3 | PART 4 | PART 5 |

Notes: Please like, share and let me know what you think! Feedback is important and makes me want to write even more. :D

Read more of my work here -> Masterlist

[dr-flipflops]

*Will heading back, when he runs into Kayla a couple meters from his Nico- wait, HIS Nico, ohhhh goooods. Fuck this*

Will*awkwardly*: Hey--- Kayla Kayla*Frowning disapprovingly*: Will Will *small patheticness*: Hi? Kayla *iciness*: Hey. Will *sigh*: yeah, yeah, get on with it. Kayla: *smacks him over the head with a clipboard* Will: Uh- OW Kayla *glaring*: Serves you right, the hell are you doing here??? Will you need to look after yourself too!! Will: BUt Kayla *the queen points up the finger*: Nuh uh William Andrew Solace, nuh uh. I saw you this morning- You got up at the ass-crack of dawn like the rest of us, but instead of chilling out till camp woke up, you got up and started those crazy laps of yours, Will, you're too hard yourself, and I know that you have CRAZY stamina and are tireless but *punctuates each word with a smack of the clipboard*

ALL. YOU. HAVE. EAT-EN. TO-DAY. IS. A. FUCK-ING. BANANA. Will pouts sorely rubbing his head: Hey-! Kayla: No Will. You're literally on your break and looking after Nico di Angelo, and in about 5-8 minutes, you're on roster again. Will, take a damn break you idiot. Will sighs, serious times:sarcastic Kayla, I would love to, course I'd love to have some space alone to myself to let my thoughts consume me about how I lost yet ANOTHER bunch of people close to me. OF COURSE I would LOVE to drag my brain out of constant work and focus to have a moment to think. *laughs, but its a bit demonic and crazed*. I can't Kayla, I can't. Making sure that these people, who rely and trust me to ensure that they DONT FUCKING DIE, is the only thing keeping me from tearing down everything. I need this to consume everything, I NEED this- people NEED ME. All I can do now, is be able to be on the line to look after everyone. So yes Kayla, I will get up every morning to make sure that I can run as fast as I possibly can because every. Second. Counts. Yes, I will skip meals because I do not need them as much as other campers do to make that people eat. To make sure that the daughter of Hebe, Antala over there, has the vitamins she needs to stop her body from falling apart. To make sure that the son of Nike over there, Alex, has a shoulder to cry on, and meals that remind him of his family.

To make sure that Nico feels comfortable to talk to me about his issues despite his obvious feelings of dislike towards me, and that he heals the way he is supposed to, so that he knows that he and everyone else here has someone in their corner, so that he knows he has help. I will spend every minute here and you know it. I will look after patients who need my attention, squeeze out every drop of sleep and energy I have left to make sure that no-one else dies, to prevent more cases like Miles, Jeo, Mike, Phillip, Yash, and so so many more. I will use my breaks to attend to Nico, and you cannot stop me. You know you can't Kayla. Kayla: I understand Will, its like me with my archery, I would do it till my fingers bleed to make sure I would not miss another target, that I would not have another slight fumble result in the death 3. But Will remember- *soft* We need you too.

*Kayla turns away, and Will stands there for a moment, body tensed up, jaw and hand clenched tight, he knows he spilled too much, but he was so, so TIRED, he couldn't bring himself to care much. He forced himself to relax, to turn with a smile on his face. To meet the eyes of Nico who was watching everything without waver and tears. Will whipped around, and walked calmly to Nico as if nothing had happened, a smile, scarily accurate to his genuine one, plastered on*

Hey Neeks, I know I took forever, my apologies, I fear my darling sister was very intent on lecturing me about taking a break *chuckles* but hey, I got the honey! :D

*Flashback to three days in the infirmary, but was the days Nico hates Will and they are not besties*

*Will lays on the infirmary bed, starting blankly at the ceiling above. Damn the thing needs to get repainted. Out of the corner of his eyes he noticed Nico stir in the other bed, blinking slowly at also noticing that Will was awake*

*Will doesn't look at him and asked his question quietly*

I know you don't care if I live or die, you've said so yourself, so why'd you do? Why did you stop me from sucking out the poison?

@nico-sees-dead-people

[legallyfem]

💐 — I’m just a girl…

awkward/lover boy travis x oblivious reader

♪ ⁺ ➺ new upload! ⌢ 　　⠀ 𝜗𝜚ㅤ

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ﹏ ⠀⠀⠀⠀°(ˊ ᵔ ˋ )°　　⠀𝄒!　　⠀

∿⠀⠀⠀⠀ 𓉸ྀི⠀⠀⠀⠀𓈒⠀ 𓈒⠀⠀⠀⠀wc :: 619⠀ᥘ⠀ׄ

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ♩ ⠀⠀warnings :: fem reader intended, fluff　　୧

➺ ✿ ̣̣͙ a/n :: woah. i haven’t posted since the 2nd… HEY YALL!!! i’m gonna be going on a travis like rant so i’m gona post like 5 travis fanfics don’t be mad at me… he’s just been my favorite character for like weeks on end and i need to get this off my chest. I WONT ABANDON U GUYS AGAIN I PROMISE აㅤㅤㅤㅤ

⠀⠀rules ⠀⠀masterlist

you and travis had a well established friendship… relationship? who knows. friends since middle school, you guys would always tell each other everything, but it always felt like there was something he wouldn’t tell you or he would sometimes ignore you the whole day, sitting alone at lunch while u stood behind him and slightly tugged at his shirt sleeve to sit with you.

(he really just had feelings for you and was a total drama queen about it.)

travis was always a closed off person and often avoided human contact as much as possible. he could be a complex person sometimes but it just takes a while to get to know him to understand him better.

most people just think he’s weird or only know him by the title flex (which he absolutely hates) or just ‘the coaches son’, which is better than flex. he’s okay with not being one of the most popular people there. after all, he really had all he needed, someone he could lean on, decent grades, and a friend that could double as a tutor! (you are the ‘tutor’ in question) what else could he need?

ever since you to met back in 5th grade, he’s had feelings for you, but he knew you were a bit.. hard in the head? and it took a while for you to understand certain feelings, so he just didn’t even try to confess.

he did try to make some moves though, like holding your hand for a bit longer than normal, sharing rations of food, hugs lasting a big more longer and he tried his best to make them feel more passionate, to maybe be a hint that he feels something for you.

he was always scared you didn’t feel the same way, but he also knew it wasn’t totally impossible because you were really never involved in any guy drama or have ever had any crushes from 5th grade all the way to your sophomore year in high school. he always found it weird because he thought this was the women’s ‘peak’ of crushes but he never spoke on it.

he is very insecure and very careful on everything that he does that involves you. he tries to not make things awkward but it’s in his nature. any conversation could quickly become awkward, but also quickly revive with how fast topics flow when he’s around you. you to could talk about anything for hours and he would never get bored. he cannot hold eye contact to save his life though. he’s always looking down at something or looking away, and if he is able to look you in the eye it’s because he either is fidgeting with a pencil or just a random rubber band.

like stated, he’s tried multiple times to try to get the hints accorded that he has some sort of feelings.

“oh, hey, [reader]. you look pretty today…” he mumbled as he scratched the back of his neck, watching you sit down next to him with a smile on your face.

“oh, thank you travis! i tried some new things today.” you said, putting a loose strand of hair behind your ear as u got your stuff out of ur bag, waiting for class to start.

during this same class, he would make moves by moving his seat closer to your, interlocking his pinky with yours for a slight second before quickly moving his hand away and acting like nothing happened.

“what was that?” you whispered towards him as your hand moved to your desk.

“what are you talking about…? literally nothing happened?” he mumbled as he looked at you for a slight second before turning his head away, attempting to dismiss your worries.

part 2 tmr… imma get this short smuts out before i come back to this…

[oceanz7]

࣪⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡ 𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒍𝒊𝒑𝒔, 𝒎𝒚 𝒍𝒊𝒑𝒔, 𝒂𝒑𝒐𝒄𝒂𝒍𝒚𝒑𝒔𝒆 ⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡

∘₊✧─────────────────✧₊∘

[requested]

🩷 paring: felix x reader

🩷 genre: fluff <3

🩷 warnings: nothing explicit, reader likes makeup a lot, silly felix is so in love, reader is so in love too, sharing lipstick?, kissing kissing kissing😭, use of nicknames: baby and love

🩷 A/N: i hope you like this. I got this idea out of nowhere, and i adore his lips [respectfully], so i wanted to make smth related to it ^^ I'm not sure if this is good or not but it sounded really cute in my head! Who doesn't love silly felix?

∘₊✧─────────────────✧₊∘

You loved makeup, especially lipsticks. Felix, your boyfriend, adored that part of you. He always watches you when you do your makeup, admiring the way you do everything so easily. You had only one small chair in front of your vanity before until Felix came into your life. He used to sit near you on the soft carpet or stand beside you to watch. Then you bought another chair for him since you wanted him to be comfortable as well.

Sometimes while trying on new lipsticks you bought or were gifted, you kissed his face to put a lip mark. You loved decorating his face with different shades of lipstick. His honey skin and adorable freckles looked perfect with your lip marks. He always giggled happily as you peppered his face with so many kisses, and he never got rid of the marks until it was time to sleep. He loved how passionate you were about makeup and loved to see you do it.

One day, you bought a new set of lipstick and were so excited to try it. You sat on the vanity and did your usual makeup routine except for a lipstick since you had to pick a shade from your new set first. Felix noticed you there, so he quickly came to sit beside you as well.

"Lix! I got this new lipstick set! It just came out with 5 different shades." You said in excitement looking at Felix through your mirror while applying final touches to your eye makeup.

"Really? Let's check it out" He replied, smiling. He was genuinely excited to see you try these new shades and matched your excitement. You noticed you both get so excited for your own hobbies, he gets excited when his favorite game gets updates the same way you are excited right now. You both love seeing eachother doing what you both loved the most. Gaming for him and makeup for you.

You opened the beautiful pink box which had a pink lace bow tied on it. It showed 5 different beautiful lipsticks and your eyes sparkled. You took them out and start swatching them on your wrist like you usually do. He looked at your intently and how you look carefully at the shades on your hand.

You pointed to one of the shades you swatched on your wrist. You thought it would look amazing on your lips. "I think this is my favorite one!" You told him as you turned to look at him, and he was looking right back, smiling. His eyes seemed to hold the universe and you almost got lost in them before he took the lipstick from your hand.

"Baby, can I apply it on you?" He asked, and you would never deny him anything, so you nodded quickly. "Of course, love." You turned to face him and he did the same.

You expected him to put it on your lips normally, but what he did next left you surprised.

He put it on his lips first, carefully so he doesn't ruin the shape of it. He turned to you and smiled before cupping your face, gently attacking it with kisses just like how you usually attacked his. He then finally kissed your lips. It was so soft that you felt like you were floating in clouds. You melted into it easily.

After he pulled away, you both couldn't stop giggling at each other. You noticed the lipstick smudged on his lips, so you cleaned it up a bit with your fingers while he looked at you with those eyes, admiring your face full of his kisses. When you looked in the mirror, you saw his lip marks and you almost cried, how can it be so perfect? You couldn't help but kiss him again. Even though the lipstick he 'applied' on your lips wasn't perfect, you didn't care. You loved how silly and cute he was, and you loved everything he did without doubt.

[familiarscars]

Lost In Control | Bad Omens | CHAPTER 33

adult content | minors do NOT interact.

⋆ 𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆. Bad Omens X ex-girlfriend and singer!Reader.

⋆ 𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒. You and Noah had a difficult ending but you still need to support each other for the band.

⋆ 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆(𝐒). melancholy, ex-boyfriends, difficult relationships, alcohol abuse, swearing, drug addiction, violence.

I really need your reblog! On Tumblr, the content reaches more views and is delivered more through reblog and I really wanted more people to be able to read what I write. I'm counting on you from now on, ok?

Coming home after a day like that became your only goal. You longed for a warm shower, soft sheets, and, for the first time in a long time, a deep sleep. During the rest, your thoughts would rearrange themselves, and the next steps would unfold with more clarity. Little by little, everything began to fall into place, each piece revealing a fragment of what once seemed unreachable.

You no longer felt trapped, like someone with their hands tied, defenseless in the face of the unknown. Because now, finally, you knew your past.

Although still cloudy in some places, it was no longer a complete mystery.

When you crossed the door, the silence hit you like a punch to your empty stomach. You turned on the living room lights, but the space remained sterile, devoid of any sign of life. Even the kitchen counter was spotless, with no traces of breakfast dishes or any hint that anyone had been there.

Your fingers slid across the cold surface of the countertop, and a growing discomfort settled in your chest. The more you examined the perfection of that empty space, the less at ease you felt, from the kitchen to the slow, deliberate steps you took on the stairs.

With a lump in your throat, you walked toward the bedroom, each step echoing in the silence of the house. The doorknob was cold in your hand when you turned it, hesitating for a moment before pushing the door open.

The shock hit you like a dry punch. The room seemed... smaller. Or maybe it was just the absence of him that made it feel so vast and strange. The drawers were open, empty. The closet, once filled with clothes, now displayed only hangers with a few pieces, gently swaying with the draft escaping through the window crack. The desk, where he used to leave scattered notes and forgotten items, was impeccably empty.

Your chest sank. You blinked quickly, as if the simple act of closing your eyes and opening them could change that reality. But nothing changed. He was gone.

For real.

He had simply left, taking with him everything that could have been proof of his existence there. The pain came slowly, first as a tightness in your stomach, then spreading in cold waves throughout your whole body. Your fingers trembled as you touched the bed, feeling the fabric still stretched, untouched.

The truth hit you.

He was gone.

"So this is how you felt..." you said quietly as you sat at the edge of the bed.

Your body weighed like gravity had doubled its force on you. Every inch of that house felt different now, as if everything was a little out of place, a little wrong. The silence became deafening, filling every corner with a breath that pressed against your lungs, making it hard to breathe.

The pain was raw. Ripping.

You experienced in your own skin the same feeling he must have felt the day he was torn away from you without any choice. No matter how much of a mess things were between you, it never crossed your mind to simply leave, to leave behind the home you built together. As if the burning fury inside you for everything that led to that unfair situation wasn't suffocating enough, the deep pain that rooted in your chest and refused to leave only served to fuel it to grow even more.

Time seemed to stop.

And all that was left was his absence.

And through the wavering, tear-blurred gaze, you noticed something among the clothes still remaining in the closet—a small, discreet object that stood out among the fabrics. Your heart raced as your trembling fingers pulled the clothes aside, revealing the outline of a box. Something inside you hesitated.

You pulled the box out of its hiding place, where Noah, perhaps, had left it forgotten. Placing it on the bed, your eyes traced every corner of it, hesitating, while something uncomfortable crawled under your skin, like an intuition you couldn't ignore. Inside, there were papers, aged by time, and as soon as your eyes landed on the neat handwriting on a few of the pages, you recognized it immediately.

They were letters.

Nine of them.

Nine years.

"Just a few days ago, my therapist suggested that finding an alternative way to express my feelings could ease the weight I carry, without having to face one of my biggest fears: saying them to someone.

One of the biggest, because, to be honest, I’m afraid of many things. I’m afraid of making the wrong decisions, of never being good enough, of not becoming someone I can really be proud of. I’m afraid of dedicating my life to the band, putting everything into it, and still failing at not putting it where it deserves—failing not just myself, but my friends. Deep down, I think what scares me the most is the possibility of not being good enough."

"I never thought it was necessary to live beyond my own bubble. I always had a single goal, and within my obsession for perfection and control, nothing could deviate even slightly from what I had planned. I never saw the need for anything beyond that. I never had other dreams. I never saw anything beyond the band and the hard work to make it grow.

Until I met her.

I’ve never known anyone like her. Maybe because I never really knew what life outside was like. But she seems to have an absolute certainty about the world, as if she already knows every detail before even living it. She walks with unwavering confidence, makes decisions without hesitation. She has talent without effort, without preparation. And more than anything, she possesses something I’ve always wanted to know: the absence of fear—of living, of diving in headfirst.

With her, everything feels simple. She has this fury to explore, to experience, to feel the world pulsing. To get sick and heal, to get hurt and stand up again. Everything I believed about needing a controlled life crumbles in front of her.

She makes me want to be, at least a little, as brave as she is.

She’s made me her biggest fan."

"I have never felt this happy.

Things are working out in an almost alarming way for someone anxious. I don’t feel like talking to anyone but her. I have no other topic of conversation that doesn’t revolve around her. My eyes can’t capture anything around me except for the furious, blade-like gaze of this woman.

We’re growing more every day, carving out our place. Everything I ever dreamed of is finally becoming real. I feel good. My band is happening. And I fall asleep and wake up every day next to my greatest idol.

I never imagined letting go of the reins would work. But she was right. I can be free too.

Now, the only fear I have left is just one: forgetting all of this one day."

Wiping under your eyes with the sleeve of your sweater, you folded the paper in half and set it aside on the mattress before picking up the next one.

"Four years together and we barely had a place to call our own. She gave me a beautiful ring, with a black stone on top, and I… well, I gave her a lightning bolt keychain. It was all I could offer, since everything we made went straight to the band. But things were going well—a solid second album, sold-out shows, our name appearing at bigger festivals—and that persistent feeling that our luck was about to turn.

Knowing her like the back of my hand makes me realize that something’s off. She’s been too quiet, too distant, sometimes acting in ways I can’t decipher. But I’m so immersed in the band that all I can do is hope she’s okay.

This will pass."

"She always dreamed of a bigger house.

We finally have a bigger house!!!!!!

Our house.

I thought our achievements would make our problems insignificant in comparison, but instead, they only grew. They say you never truly know the person you share a roof with, no matter how much time passes. But I don’t believe that, even though the woman of my life is self-destructing before my eyes.

I know her well enough to believe that tomorrow, this problem won’t exist anymore.

I can still save her.

Can’t I?"

"Maybe it’s just exhaustion making me overthink, and I shouldn’t give it so much importance.

But I can’t shake the feeling that I don’t know her as well as I thought. It feels like we’re hiding things from each other. She seems to prefer anyone’s company over mine, as if even the sound of my voice is an irritation.

We drowned ourselves in work, and it drove us apart. We barely talk anymore. She’s lost all interest in the band, always high, always altered. She says I’m suffocating her, but I don’t understand.

It’s been three days since she last came home. I should be writing music, but my mind refuses to function. The stress has been consuming me to the point of physical pain.

I never thought this thought would cross my mind, but now it’s here, relentless.

I think we’re ceasing to exist."

Your chest tightened, crushed by an invisible force with every word in that timeline written by Noah. You had never known what it was like to be on the other side. Overloaded routines served as a shield, pushing you both away from the real problem.

He stopped seeing you as the days passed, but only because, before that, you chose not to be seen.

"I achieved everything I ever wanted—almost everything. I spent years working to bring the band to this point. I dreamed of our name being praised by fans from all over, of world tours, money, critical recognition, seeing our brand everywhere. I wanted this more than anything.

And now I have it.

But I’ve never been so miserable since she left."

"I no longer feel like singing.

With each passing day, I feel more exhausted. The stage, which was once my refuge, now only makes me uncomfortable. Anxiety attacks have become frequent, my nights of sleep shorter and shorter, and my mind seems incapable of forming even two sentences. I’m drifting away from the very thing I worked so hard for.

My band.

I’ve distanced myself from my friends; I spend more time alone than I ever have. The reflection in the mirror is someone I no longer recognize. Maybe I’m sick because that’s how I feel—a body that only breathes and fulfills its obligations, without any pleasure in anything at all.

She definitely stopped loving me."

"We canceled a tour because I collapsed on stage. For the first time, I wondered if maybe I didn’t want to do this anymore.

I wish I could tell her that. Maybe she would understand. We always talked about everything... She felt this more than anyone when I forced her to keep working on my dream.

God, I miss her so much. I deeply wished she would feel the same pain I did, that she would be consumed by the same sense of betrayal, that she would experience the suffering of wanting every new day to be the last—just like I have since the moment she betrayed me. I wanted her chest to burn like mine, but every time I try to hurt her, it backfires, like an arrow missing its target and hitting me instead.

I’ve been hating myself more each day because I despise having to act this way.

I’m not like this."

Tears streamed hot down your face, mixing with the suffocating knot in your throat. You had never imagined the pain of separation had been so deep until you saw his words, until you felt, through them, just how broken you both were before you even had the chance to fix anything.

It was unfair.

Before you could even try—back when it was still possible—something bigger destroyed you both. It sickened you. It turned two beating hearts into mere breathing bodies, trapped in a cycle of absence and pain.

And now, all that remained was the crushing weight of what could have been.

With trembling hands, you began placing the letters back into the box, but before you could close it, something caught your attention.

There was another piece of paper.

Smaller than the others, almost unnoticed among the letters. Your heart faltered as you picked it up, feeling the weight of something different.

It was the last thing he had written:

"I feel like I forgot something important."

⭑ @bloody-spades ; @iluvmewwwww75 ; @anarchydomainglory ; @foliosgirl ; @lacy1986 ; @chey-h ; @supersquirrel1996 ; @zozaline​ ; @just-randomm-stuff ; @do-it-jakey-baby

[honeysorwell]

all of it (all of you) 

Pairing: Melissa Schemmenti x hairdresser!fem Reader

Synopsis of the story + Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6, Chapter 7, Chapter 8, Chapter 9, Chapter 10

Link on AO3

Chapter 3

Tag list: @janeyseymour @italianaidiota @chloeelou02x (and if you want to be tagged too just let me know.)

Warning: idk... maybe redheads (if you are Y/N)

Once again, thank you all very much for embracing my work with such affection.

Enjoy!

The nerve on that... redheaded slut!

The thought repeated in a loop in the hairdresser's mind as she remembered the words that the woman whose hair she had dyed and dried with such care had said to her a few minutes ago. She thought of that hair that shone under the salon light after her care, and felt her anger triple size.

The redhead's words boiled her blood like nothing else had since she arrived in this country, and that's what made her mutter lost and angry phrases to herself as she washed her utensils in the storage room after finishing the hair of that... that... woman.

How miserable it must be to live with someone as unhappy as her.

Beautiful women really are the devil.

It's a shame that people like that can't simply be ejected from the planet for good.

"What happened?" Angelina's voice is sweet but worried as Y/N's friend enters the storage room, closing the door carefully behind her.

This concern only becomes more evident when Y/N thumps the brushes she used on the table in front of them before answering.

“A stupid American with an attitude just belittled my work.”, the hairdresser doesn’t even bother to look up at her colleague with a strong accent and Greek descent, who still wears the mask on her face that is part of her uniform for her nail appointments.

“Do you want us to throw water on her? I think she’s still in the parking lot and the hose is up there in front of the window.”, Angelina’s question is so honest that it makes Y/N smile genuinely.

“No…”, is how the Brazilian answers her friend after thinking for just a few seconds, “I don’t want to give her a reason to come back here, and it would be sad to ruin what I did to her hair. But thank you.”

Before leaving and returning to her appointment, Angelina gently kisses her friend's hair, but the affectionate gesture is not enough to calm Y/N's angry heart.

The hairdresser takes a deep breath and drinks a few glasses of water before returning to work. Luckily, an adorable little girl who is always asking her about Portuguese words shows up with her father for a haircut just before lunch, and her curiosity and charisma manage to bring a few genuine smiles not only from the Brazilian woman but from everyone in the salon.

But the discomfort still remains subtly buried in Y/N's chest until the end of the day, and inside her car, questions that the hairdresser rarely asked herself now bubbled uncontrollably in her mind. The fact that all the traffic lights were red for her, turning a twenty-minute drive home into a forty-minute drive didn't help it either.

Was she really not good enough? Was everything she had built over the years nothing more than an illusion?

It couldn't be. This pretense could not have fooled so many people, so many clients, and in two different countries... And Andrea.

Andrea Rossi was a very competent woman. The Italian woman had all those years of experience and such a sharp tongue, Y/N can't imagine the older woman falling for the illusion created by her, a woman who is just in her mid-twenties.

Unless it was out of... pity.

Before she even realizes it, the hairdresser finds herself sitting impatiently on her own sofa in the same way she does in the waiting room for routine appointments, and then she picks up her own cell phone and calls the first contact on her saved list.

"Hello?"

"Hello... Andrea?", the Brazilian woman's voice sounded broken from her first words and she already started to hate herself for it as she tried to control her breathing.

"Y/N?", her name comes out of the phone like a question itself, and the Brazilian woman feels terribly guilty for realizing that, yes, she woke Andrea up in the middle of the night.

10 pm. A particularly fair time for a woman of Andrea's age to be sleeping, especially considering that she is now retired.

"I'm sorry... I didn't mean to wake you."

"No problem, ragazza. Are you okay?"

"Yes, yes I am and I... I hope you are too.", the Brazilian woman breathes for a few seconds and, while courage still floods her body, she speaks again, "Andrea, I would like to ask you for something."

"If I am in a position to give it to you, it is already yours, my dear..."

The older woman's answer floods Y/N's heart with such great affection that the Brazilian woman knows it is dangerous when she feels so vulnerable. The questions she really wanted to ask the older hairdresser almost escaped between her lips.

Do you think you could tell me that I am good at what I do? Like really... really good?

"I... Do you know the red hair color you created especially for that client of yours? The one you recommended to me to be your hairdresser?"

“Melissa’s redhead? Yes, I remember it, dear.”, the sound of Andrea’s voice sounds so uncertain, her confusion almost makes Y/N back down.

“I was wondering if you would allow me to share it with another professional. And I know it’s your creation and I have no right to ask you to do so, but here I am anyway.”

“Y/N, that color is yours now and you can do whatever you want with it. I’ll hardly use the same measurements for anything else where I am now.”, the older woman says with a laugh, before speaking again with a slightly more concerned tone, “But... If you’ll allow me to ask, are you really okay? Why would you want to do this?”

Andrea’s question is sweet, her concern comes from a place of such care that it almost makes Y/N cry, but that only makes Y/N feel worse as she drowns in all her self-deprecation and her anger towards this... Melissa.

Because if it weren’t for her, her grotesque attitude, and her insensitive words, none of this would have happened.

Andrea personally asked the Brazilian hairdresser to take care of this... Melissa and ten other clients, and the Brazilian woman were so happy about it. That was such an honest way to show how Andrea trusted her, and Y/N just wanted so much to prove herself worthy of that.

And everything had worked out well with the other clients the hairdresser had already met. But with this woman she just... couldn't.

For a second, Y/N starts to wonder how someone as kind as Andrea could meet and share her presence with someone so... unfortunate. And willingly.

And then the hairdresser finally comes to her senses.

Y/N knew absolutely nothing about the relationship between the two women.

Were they family?

The thought sounds loud and echoing in the Brazilian woman's mind and she almost chokes on her own saliva just imagining putting Andrea in such a delicate situation against the rude redhead or even putting herself against Andrea, if the older hairdresser found Melissa's behavior respectable.

She genuinely doesn't think the older woman would do that... but today was exhausting and Y/N doesn't want to paint this unfortunate possibility with the colors of certainty by actively telling Andrea what happened. Maybe any other day, but not today.

"No... It's not important..." is how Y/N chooses to answer the older woman, even though she knows that Andrea probably knows she's lying, so the Brazilian woman starts to justify herself in the best way she can to avoid the Italian's question, "And it's also so late, I shouldn't have called you to talk about something so trivial at this time. Forgive me, Andrea."

"Don't worry about me, dear. And I really meant it when I told you that you could call me whenever you wanted, ragazza."

"Thank you. Have a good night, Andrea."

"You too, ragazza."

After hanging up the cell phone, a bitter taste returned to the hairdresser's mouth. Looking at her small apartment and without a single docile soul to ease her worries, Y/N took a deep breath, trying to push away the lump that insisted on forming in her throat.

The rational part of the hairdresser knew that she shouldn't take it personally. That Melissa was just another grumpy client, one of those who seem to take pleasure in spreading bitterness wherever they go. But, no matter how much she repeated this to herself, the wound opened by that redhead's cruelty wouldn't heal.

The following days were difficult as Y/N tried to focus on the other clients, the laughter, the compliments she always received. But, deep down, the redhead's disdainful voice still echoed in her mind, undermining her confidence. And so, the Brazilian woman began to actively notice small details that she had previously ignored. First, it was a cut that didn't turn out exactly as it should in her opinion, then it was a shade of dye that could perhaps be more vibrant, followed by a fringe that could be a little longer to look more like the reference in the photo.

Each day created more and more doubts that, like a shadow, began to settle in the hairdresser's heart.

"That woman... She has no right to make you question yourself like that, Y/N.", is what Angelina says to Y/N seriously during a calm lunch that the two woman share, only to make all the vulnerability in her eyes overflow in a few tears that run down her face against her will.

That cry, with the fact that the Brazilian woman couldn't even respond to her friend's words, made Angelina's blood boil.

"We're going out tonight. On me!", the Greek woman says as a declaration, and without any excuses to deny her friend, Y/N just nods her head affirmatively.

That night, the nightclub that the Greek woman had chosen was pulsing with life. The strobe lights cut through the darkness to the rhythm of the music and in the middle of the dance floor, Y/N and Angelina swayed their bodies, trying to free themselves from the tensions of the day.

Y/N was still visibly uncomfortable, but Angelina was on a mission determined to cheer her up.

“Forget about that woman, Y/N!” the manicurist shouted, grabbing her friend’s hands and pulling her closer, while the two laughed and twirled together, “Today we’re going to find someone here who will only give you the nicest compliments.”

After a laugh, Y/N finally began to relax, letting the music take over her. Angelina, with her extroverted way, made funny faces and steps as she observed particularly clumsy people on the dance floor, making sure that Y/N didn’t have time to think about anything other than smiling with her friend.

The two were in tune, laughing and dancing so much that for a moment, Y/N felt that nothing could make her happier than a drink.

When the second glass was ordered by the two women, Y/N noticed a man at the very end of the bar who was struggling a little to order a drink in the middle of the crowd. He was tall, blond, young and... quite clumsy. She noticed how he showed his ID to the bartender without being asked and awkwardly held a beer while his cheeks began to redden thanks to the bitter taste of alcohol even with the bright lights.

And there Y/N was sure that it would be a sin not to let Angelina devour that guy alive.

“Lina.”, the hairdresser called her friend’s attention and made sure to only point to the man in question with the tip of her chin when her friend’s eyes were paying full attention to her, “Your type, right there.”

When Angelina looks at the man in question and automatically bites her lower lip, Y/N wants to laugh even louder than before.

It took a little persuasion for Y/N’s coworker to leave her alone to go meet her newest prey, promising that it would only be for a while and that she would be back soon. But the Brazilian woman keeps saying how happy and well she is just staying by the bar and that if she gets tired she will just call an Uber and go home.

As soon as she is officially alone, pushing her hair out of her face with her fingertips while she continues drinking and moving softly to the rhythm of the music, a tall man with bright red hair approaches the hairdresser with a confident smile.

“Can I buy you a drink?” he asked, with a thick Philadelphia accent that made Y/N shiver.

Jesus. No.

He was handsome. Really nice to look at and seemed quite confident, which really pleased the hairdresser, but... No. God, no! Y/N really didn’t want any Philadelphia beauties in her bed tonight.

She was as polite as she could be, refusing with a shake of her head and turning her body away from the man.

But everything turns into a snowball when, less than a minute later, another man's voice rang in her ear.

"You're stunning. Come dance with me, will you?"

British? Oh...

So, happy not to hear an accent even remotely similar to that of that unhappy client that wouldn't leave her head, Y/N lets her best flirtatious smile escape her lips and then turns to... the greenest eyes she's seen in... well... two weeks.

Not that she's counting.

Y/N hates to admit it, but she felt a chill down her spine and barely tried to hide her look of pure disappointment. It was as if that red-haired hurricane who treated her so badly had shared her physical features among the people in that place who liked her enough to catch her attention.

After denying this man, the Brazilian woman begins to observe the people around her better, deciding that being the one who initiates contact this time will decrease her likelihood of suffering yet another disappointment.

Unfortunately, fate did not agree with Y/N ​​when her eyes met the eyes of a tall, smiling woman who was already looking back at her, as if she had been watching her from a distance and was actively waiting for a single opportunity to approach her.

And, of course, she was probably the only red-haired woman in that place.

It was as if the universe was playing a cruel joke on her.

“No, thank you.”, was the incredulous murmur that Y/N let slip between her lips before downing the drink in her hand in one go, leaving the alcohol to deal with the irritation that had begun to grow inside her.

Because there, she only saw red.

It wasn’t fair.

The hairdresser just wanted a nice night, but the universe simply decided that she didn’t deserve that.

The Brazilian woman took out her cell phone, her hands now shaking with anger, and typed a quick message to Angelina.

“I’m going home. Thanks for the night. I love you.”

Without waiting for an answer, Y/N called an Uber and, as soon as a car accepted, she left the club with those flashlights, loud music, and annoying clones.

She should have calmed down on the way home, the end of a night filled with good music and alcohol always has this effect on her, but the truth is that the hairdresser went home more irritated than ever.

The Brazilian woman frowns the whole way home in that Uber, just imagining how leaving the house that night was a waste of time and money.

She appreciates Angelina's attempt to cheer her up, but the hairdresser now knows that she should have just bought takeout and stayed home miserable.

Opening the front door to her apartment, Y/N thinks that maybe casual sex can save the rest of her week. But meeting someone new, especially after the redhead ghost that apparently started stalking the hairdresser's ming, was out of the question.

But maybe...

Before even taking off her clothes and heading to the shower, Y/N starts scrolling through her contact list, purposefully skipping all the redheads along the way.

She stares at a friend who had a habit of being adorably overly physical for a while longer before giving up, only to start looking at the Instagram of a former coworker’s brother who had the most beautiful brown eyes. However, his latest photos make it quite clear that he has now started dating a girl with a funny smile who is apparently the principal of a Philadelphia school.

“Good for him, I guess,” Y/N mutters softly to no one in particular.

Just as she’s about to log out of the app, a particularly demanding mother of a client (who had already made it more than clear that dating a younger woman was not a problem at all to her) posts a picture of herself

She has the most adorable doe eyes and such a seductive smile, but even Y/N knows that it is particularly humiliating for either of them to initiate such contact for this purpose after 2 am. Especially when that client’s daughter has an appointment early next week.

So she just likes the photo, not caring about being the first one to do it, and accepting that the best thing to do that night is just go to bed.

With the delicious buzz of alcohol and loud music from the club in her ear while Y/N is getting ready to sleep, the hairdresser starts repeating to herself that tomorrow she will feel better. Tomorrow someone nice and attractive will come her way and all the miserable and snotty clients will simply die burned in a really big pizza oven.

But none of that happens.

The bitter taste in the hairdresser's mouth just won't go away, and with her mind so unhappy she rejects any and all advances from potential dates because they all look like... that woman.

Sometimes it's the hair, sometimes the angry look, sometimes the voice...

It's just... horrible.

A kind of self-inflicted celibate retreat that simply decides to stalk the hairdresser for weeks.

Luckily for her, the rush of Y/N's work took over all her energy. And the lack of vitality to sustain her anger, in turn, caused something to start changing in the Brazilian woman's mind. Little by little, the anger gave way to just hurt and sadness.

It was no longer an anger that consumed her, but one that made her reflect.

Y/N loved what she did. She loved transforming hair, yes, but she also loved transforming people's days and self-esteem. The Brazilian woman knew that the work that day with Andrea's client had been good, after all, Melissa had tried to give her a tip.

Whether it was out of guilt or generosity, it didn't matter.

The client, despite her harsh words, had left satisfied — Y/N saw Melissa's look of approval in the mirror at the end of the appointment, even if disguised. That woman's words were not about Y/N, but about something she carried inside herself, something that Y/N could not fix.

Andrea had told her a few months ago that the naivety that lived in Y/N's heart, believing that everyone would recognize her effort, could be a problem in Philadelphia. She said that no matter how much love professionals who work with the public have for their work, they should know that it will never be enough to shield them from the cruelty of others.

These were precious pieces of advice, but they had been clouded in Y/N's mind by her anger. But now that she remembered those kind words, all the others sounded fresher and fresher in her memory.

The older woman had told her time and time again that separating empty criticism from those that really mattered and understanding that not everyone who sat in her chair would leave happy, in addition to being certain that this was not a reflection of her ability, were more important things to learn than getting the exact angle of a pessimistic woman's cut right.

And it was these words of wisdom from Andrea Rossi that made the anger that was boiling in her chest begin to lose its strength. That indignation that made her relive Melissa's speech over and over in her mind, began to transform into just an unhappy memory. Not overnight, but with the help of small moments like when a longtime client hugged Y/N after a haircut, saying she felt renewed, or when a teenager, upon seeing her new look, smiled so wide that her eyes lit up.

And that's why when Olivia, the salon receptionist, calls her name and tells her that a redheaded woman is there looking for her, that thought of that woman barely crosses Y/N's mind.

Olivia had already told her that Melissa accepted the measurements for her hair color, what more could she want?

But there she was. With her hair in waves, a pair of sunglasses perched on top of her head and a heavy-looking dessert platter in her hand.

"Oh. You. What do you want?", Y/N asks with a frown full of tiredness and disbelief, which she doesn't bother to hide.

Y/N’s question isn’t meant to hurt, but the redhead still takes the words with a thud and becomes so surprisingly uncomfortable that the hairdresser suddenly drops her bravado upon hearing the redhead’s request.

“Can we talk somewhere else?” Melissa’s voice is restrained and hopeful, silently wishing that Y/N would invite her to some private spot within the crowded salon, away from the curious eyes of the salon, but Y/N surprises her.

“Parking lot.”

It’s not exactly what the redhead wanted, but it’s worth much more than the idea of ​​the hairdresser just saying no and turning her back to get back to work.

Melissa knows that would be her own reaction.

When Y/N opens the salon door and holds it open gentlemanly until the redhead can walk through without any problems while holding the big tray in her hands, the teacher lets out a low, relieved sigh before starting to talk.

“I would like to apologize to you.”, Melissa says bluntly, handing the dessert platter with the tiramisu to the hairdresser, “And this is my way of doing it.”

“I’m waiting.”, the Brazilian woman says as she crosses her arms over her chest, activly ignoring the dessert platter in front of her and looking expectantly at Melissa, completely ignoring the last sentence said by the redhead.

“Waiting... for what...?”, the redhead asks, partly confused and partly anxious for something she believes she has no chance of achieving.

“You said you want to apologize to me. I’m waiting.”, is what Y/N says to her in a soft voice, looking directly into the green eyes in front of her in expectation.

Then, after understanding that the hairdresser, wisely, would not make it easy for her and taking a deep breath, Melissa begins:

“I’m sorry for insulting ya, Y/N. I... I was deeply unfair and cruel and, honestly, I didn't even mean the things I told you, about you or your work... I just... I've had Andrea as my hairdresser and my family's for over ten years and she's been a part of my life for much longer than that. And that had been such a stressful week at the school where I work... I think it was all just too much and I dumped it on you undeservedly.”

When the Brazilian woman just lowers her head and nods, still silent, Melissa finds even more courage to continue speaking.

“I know I'm justifying my actions but I really need to... at least let ya know that I'm not like that,” the second and third-grade teacher says softly and in a low voice, before shaking her head and correcting herself, “I mean, I'm a little sharp around the edges but... Not without reason like I was that day. I mean... Sometimes I am... But not when it comes to someone I met through Andrea.”

After a moment of silence, Y/N looks Melissa in the eyes again, barely noticing the anticipation that had been created there when she asks:

“So this…”, the hairdresser says, pointing at the woman in front of her as a whole in a curious manner, “Is it all because you want my services, after all?”

“I… I’m not here for that. I’m here to apologize because I really regret how I behaved with ya and it’s eating me alive.”, Melissa’s answer comes seriously and along with a negative shake of her head that almost makes her dizzy.

“But…?”, the hairdresser begins, with a glimpse of a playful smile that also draws an identical one from the redhead’s lips when she finally gives in.

“But, I would still like to be your regular. If you’ll have me.”

Normally, Y/N would say no.

Normally, Y/N would say that she understands that people are sometimes rude, but that she doesn't need that in her life.

But the woman really appreciated Melissa's apology and saw the truth in her words. She doesn't know exactly how the redhead works inside a school, but she can imagine the kind of stress she must be witnessing on a daily basis, and this is the last straw needed for her to forgive her.

"People have their bad days. Just don't do that ever again, understand? Not with me. I'm not someone who usually gives people second chances.", Y/N answers seriously, giving her condition and only when she receives an affirmative nod from the redhead does she awkwardly take the dish from Melissa's hand, her fingers brushing against the teacher's for a brief moment due to her concern in holding the dessert firmly in her hand.

"Thank you. I can't wait to try whatever this is.", the Brazilian concludes, with a sparkle in her eyes full of curiosity towards the dish that made Melissa's heart race, filled with pride, "I've never received food from a client before..."

"Tiramissu. Family recipe.", Melissa's voice now sounds more confident and cheerful, and Y/N enjoys witnessing this more than she realizes as she smiles and nods in agreement with the redhead's words.

Only when Melissa, now embarrassed by the silence that takes over the empty parking lot, decides to say goodbye to the hairdresser is the Brazilian woman's voice heard again.

“Wait... This dessert platter... What do I...?”, the question begins to form on Y/N's lips but Melissa interrupts her gently, as she does with her students when they forget to clean their snow-covered feet before entering the classroom.

“Can I pick her up next time I come here... for my coloring?”, is a hopeful question once again, and Y/N likes this Melissa much more than the one she had in her chair and the hairdresser could not be more grateful to have a glimpse of her.

“I can fit you in next week at the same time Andrea asked me to.”

“That would be great. Seriously. Thank you, hon.”, is how Melissa says goodbye and, with just that last word, Y/N can feel the skin on her face heat up, even with her hands firmly holding the cold dessert platter.

[stellacartography]

Day 5 Anticipation | Nonsense | mail

Day 6 Declaration | gregarious | duet

Greg scrubbed at his empty mug, powering the tea stains off the ceramic with the full force of his frustration. He'd managed to put up with Sherlock’s wistful glances and John's mooning and all their ill-timed soppy nonsense for a whole twenty minutes before he called a halt to the proceedings. Those two were ridiculous. How they managed the level of oblivion to one another's... sentiments, as Sherlock might word it, was beyond him.

"Unnecessary." Sherlock was a first class berk and Greg wanted to send him out of the kitchen with a sign saying 'Kick me' sellotaped to his back.

Though perhaps 'Kiss me' would be a better command. 'Snog me senseless.'

"You'll have to be more specific, there," Greg sighed.

"Washing your own cup. There are other dishes to be done. You're not saving us much bother."

Greg rinsed the mug and dried it. "Wrong."

"I beg your pardon?"

"What's unnecessary is the two of you circling one another. You gazing at him when you don't think he's looking. Him watching you when your back is turned." He kept his voice low but knew it might carry. At this stage he was beyond caring.

Sherlock's eyes grew wide. "What are you saying?"

Greg dried the mug put it away none too gently in the cupboard where he'd found it. "I'm saying I'm tired of watching you two moon over each other. Go in there and snog the daylights out of him. I need your loo and then I'm off."

After drying his hands, Greg opened the bathroom door. As he stepped out into the hall he could hear voices; John and Sherlock speaking in low tones just out of earshot. Greg walked softly back into the kitchen, not wanting to interrupt any crucial declarations.

As he entered he caught the tail end of Sherlock’s murmured statement.

"... Tell you how I feel for you."

The two were no longer in their chairs but had moved to the sofa. Greg couldn't see them but their voices carried easily in the quiet flat.

"And how's that?" John sounded the right blend of intrigued and playful. A good sign.

"Surely even you must have noticed."

Don't botch it, mate, Greg thought.

"Even if I have noticed, I'm going to make you say it."

Good on John. Made for each other, those two. Really Greg should leave. He'd done everything he could.

"I adore you, John Watson. As passionate as I am about the work, it is nothing to how fulfilling my life has been with you. You give meaning to the work, you give purpose to the mundanities of living, you even make the boredom worthwhile."

Of course Sherlock couldn't say something as obvious as 'I love you', it had to be a grand speech. Still, his words were effective. Even Greg felt a little echo in his heartstrings at the confession.

"Was that so hard?" John teased.

"Mortifying."

"I love you, too, berk. Come here."

Greg heaved a quiet sigh into the silence that filled the flat. He wasn't sure if he should say his goodbyes and walk out through the sitting room door to the landing or if he'd be better off unlatching the squeaky kitchen exit. The last time he'd tried that way, Mrs Hudson had heard it all the way in the back of her flat and had dashed halfway up the stairs to protect her beloved lodger.

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@fluffbruary @lisbeth-kk @totallysilvergirl @etrebko @hot-on-my-watch @actually-a-girls-name @missdeliadilisblog @helloliriels

[willowfey]

starting to think maybe waking up with an anxiety stomachache every single morning and then needing to spend the entire day trying to get rid of said anxiety just to maybe have a few minutes in the evening of feeling relaxed before going to bed is perhaps not normal

[sunriseinorbit]

i think the number one thing that fucks me up about third semester akechi (other than. literally everything else about third semester akechi) is not just that everything he did to avenge his mother and ruin shido meant next to nothing in the end thanks to yaldabaoth pulling the strings all along, but that we as the audience/player never directly see him learn what his role in yaldy's game even was. obviously we can assume that akira tells him during the exposition dump at the laundromat that gets (thankfully) skipped over, but even then, even though he's one of the major players, even though he was chosen by a god to represent humanity's desire for destruction, he only learns this information third-hand, and we never get to see that happen.

[imminent-danger-came]

I can't fucking believed they released tdp s5 five days early. What are you the lmk s4 special

[arminsumi]

... hubby!Gojo with a huge breeding kink who just obsesses over you when you're ovulating and can't think about anything else but fucking a baby into your hips.

+ warnings; mdni, breeding kink, some dumbification

+ an; I literally had this idea in my drafts for a year... 😳

Maybe he's got a freaky sixth sense, maybe it's just because he's got heightened senses, or maybe there's some scientific studies to back it up; but Gojo can smell when you're ovulating. And it turns him on — of course it does. He has a bigger breeding kink than you do.

"Oh, you're ovulating." he notes after sniffing your skin... and you do a double take like he's insane. Because he is insane — you married a madman.

He pays closer attention to your cycle than you do, reminding you to mark down when you get your period, and coddling you in the days leading up to ovulation.

"Satoru, it's just an estimation." you tell him, but he's got a glow in his eyes when he sees your period tracker app telling him that today's your most fertile day — if he cums in you today, it's basically guaranteed.

He researches positions that help conception, bends and pushes you into them, and fucks you deep with his thick cock, going harder on your poor hole than he normally does — grunting more than he normally does, throbbing more than he normally does... like it just awakens something primal in him, and now he's obsessively fucking you like he has no other purpose but to breed his sweet little wife.

"Nn! Satoruuu!" you whine and paw at his torso, your walls overwhelmed by the pressure of his cock splitting you open.

"Yes babyyy?" he coos, giving you a crooked, blissed-out smile as he tilts his head.

There's sweat dripping off his abs, his pink nipples are hard, his biceps are twitching, and he's running one hand through his dampened white hair as he stills inside you for a moment.

"'s too deep! T-too big!" you moan lewdly, a bit of drool escaping the corner of your mouth.

"...aw, I know I'm just too big for ya, huh?" he coos cockily; hearing you tell him that he's 'too big' never gets old.

He's so determined to give you his baby that he tries everything to increase the chances; staying inside you for 5 minutes after shooting his load in, having you rest with a pillow under your back so your hips are raised — "Gotta help my lil' guys swim." he acts like an idiot about it, but sweetly so. Nothing excites him more than the idea of being a dad, except the idea of fathering your children.

After sex, when the two of you are cleaning up, Satoru feels over and massages your tummy with a small smile on his face. He's lost in thought, hair all messy and face tired like he's run a marathon, hopeful that this time he got you pregnant.

He'll pamper you like his queen, humming and going to the ends of the earth to get you anything you ask for. He really fawns over you when you're ovulating, and lays on the compliments thick while snuggling your neck and creeping his fingers up your thighs — pretty soon he'll sink them inside and stretch you out on them, preparing you for what he cutely calls "baby making" but is actually sweaty, nasty, kinky sex — there's a definite difference in the cute, snuggly sex and the literal breeding sessions no matter how much he plays it off.

"Satoru... my legs are still weak after this morning, give me a break, will you?"

"Aw come on, this is an innocent request... and if babymaking happens, it happens..." he mutters the last part under his breath.

"You're crazy."

But you know you're gonna fall for it after you take one look at his rock-hard, juicy pink, dummy big cock and those breeder balls.

He just beams victoriously when you hop over to him like a little bunny.

Satoru's pushes into you as deep as your pussy allows him, and then some more just to pressure your deepest spot, pinning your wrists down and whispering sultrily into your ear about how well you take him, how beautiful you look, how good it feels to fuck your fertile pussy knowing that he'll most definitely get you pregnant because his cum is perfect; thick and sticky and gooey and pungent, perfect just like he is — the cocky bastard.

When his creampies makes you cum, A-spot pressured with his pulsing tip, he grins so wide that you scold him about it.

"Stop grinning like a psychopath." you pant.

He just looks up at you, face hardly an inch away, and asks a dumb, smiley "D'you feel pregnant?" ... as if it happens so fast.

"Gee, I don't know, we should go again just to make sure — that was a joke, that was a joke! Nn! Satoru!" too late, he's flipping you over and slowly filling you up again.

And oh god Satoru loves sliding back in for round twos. The smell of sex and cum wafting up and hitting his nose just makes him plunge back into your cum-filled little hole with only one thing in mind and that is breeding you 'till you're stuffed to the max.

"Come on, y' gonna be a good wifey for me and get knocked up?" he rasps against your ear, thrusting his cock up into your sensitive spots until his creampies turn into whipped cream, frothed up and milky-white and smeared on your pussy lips.

Like the nasty boy he is (and always has been, even before marriage), Satoru forces your head down and makes you watch him fuck his dummy big cock into you.

"Yeah, watch that cock fill you up... look at all my cum leaking out..." he tuts, "... don't be so wasteful, baby... oh well, 'm gonna fuck it back into you anyways. Come on, let me in deeper — aw, what's wrong?" he coos when you claw at his meaty bicep.

"'toruuu, so deep! Y-you're so fucking deep, I can't think..."

His heart pangs when he hears you complain about being too stuffed, "Oh baby you don't need to think, just lay there and let me put a baby in your sweet pussy — gonna fuck you so dumb, the only name you'll remember is mine."

Of course, he has to get a creampie in every day. Sometimes even a few times a day. Sometimes even at 4 AM, and you swat him for being a horny idiot — but it takes five minutes to give in because you can hear the need in his voice when he whines "Please?" and starts humping against you, "I've got so much cum for you." he tells you and though it sounds so sweet in his soft, bedroom voice it's hard to take him as an innocent man, because his thick boner is grinding hard and hot between your plush lips.

You can bet you'll probably only get to sleep when the birds are chirping, 'cause your hubby's balls are too heavy and full of cum and he needs to drain himself inside you — oh, and you can also bet that afterwards he will be sleeping like a princess, clinging to you with his face snuggled into your tummy.

[chaoticwriting]

New Gotham Rouge

Okay, in Danny's defense, it sounds like a very good idea when he thought about it. Danny is currently laying on top of the clocktower looking at the smog filled sky. A few stars can be seen occasionally while he is staring and thinking about his decision.

When Danny is outed as Phantom. He ran away as his parents tried to capture and cut him open. He hid in a nearby cave for a few days as he thought of what to do when he suddenly had a brilliant idea. Let's fake his own death!

Danny stole a few parts and materials around Amity Park and made a makeshift bomb and rushed towards the GIW base. He freed all the ghosts and made a cinematic scene of exploding himself thus taking the whole building with him.

Danny also sends the ghost to set up a few bombs in his house after making sure Jazz, Sam and Tucker are not there. Just as he 'exploded' himself, the house also exploded destroying the portal and all the remaining research paper about anything ghost related.

Danny dove into the ground as the explosion distracted everyone and chose one direction to fly towards. A few hours later, he found himself in Gotham and surprisingly there is a lot of ambient ectoplasm in Gotham. He flies around invisible while looking for a place to stay and he lands on the clocktower to rest after flying for so long.

Now, Danny doesn't know what he should do because he realizes one key component in staying alive for him. Obsession. Contrary to popular belief (Sam), his obsession is not protection. It is love. Love as in any act of love will fulfill his obsession. Him protecting his town is an act of love towards his town people. Him loving and studying space is an act of love towards himself. Him not taking revenge against his family and people that wrong him is an act of love towards humanity.

So, long story short, he needs to find a way to fulfill his obsession. He is laying on top of the clocktower and suddenly a very good idea comes into his mind.

A few weeks later

-Batcave-

Dick: Are you still searching for the glitter thief?

Tim: Yes. And it's driving me insane how little clue there is of this thief. I even tried asking Selina and even she is impressed by this thief's MO.

Steph: Are you sure you need to be stressing about this thief? It's probably a group of kids stealing glitters just because they can.

Tim: Are you telling me a group of kids can do a heist better than Selina? And this thief or group of thieves for some reason only stole biodegradable paint and glitters from all across the city without us finding where they store them? There must be something I am missing.

Suddenly, an alert appears at the batcomputer and catches everyone's attention. A live broadcast is showing Joker standing in front of a switch as Commissioner Gordon hanging from a rope on top of a pool of acid. Every single batfam suits up and rushes into Gotham to find the Joker before anything can happen.

Joker: Hahahaha. Good evening Gotham and Bats! Today, I have a dear friend of yours playing my game. In front of me is a switch to activate a time bomb that will explode a whole district if not dismantled. You have 20 minutes to dismantle the bomb and with every minute that passes, I will slowly lower the Commissioner into the pool of acid.

Joker then walks slowly towards the switch and flips it.

Joker: Your time starts now! HAHAHAHAHAHA!

Batman and the crew rushes towards Gotham as they turn Gotham upside down for the bomb. 5 minutes passed and they become desperate enough that they even roped in some of the rogues like Penguin, Harley, Ivy and Croc. But no matter what they do, they can't find the bomb.

Just as the last minute passes, everyone expects a big explosion engulfing Gotham. Except there is no sound at all. In fact, it is eerily quiet. Everyone turns on Joker live broadcast to see even the man is confused. He turns around and sees Gordon having his feet inside the pool of acid like nothing is happening.

Suddenly a giggle appears. Everyone that hears the giggles starts to get goosebumps as suddenly, a kid with a half clown facemask at the bottom of his face, a green leather jacket, black jeans and white hair appears behind Joker. His hands are holding his stomach as his giggles turn into laughter that is eerily similar to Joker.

???:Hello everyone. I am Trickster. And I am here to crash the party.

Everyone: ????

Trickster: Hehehe, it's so funny to see everyone's confused expression. But no worries I am here to have fun. See, I even have your toys with me.

The Trickster phases his hand into his body and pulls out a very familiar brick. He throws it to Joker and the Joker runs away screaming and trips on his feet falling down the stairs.

The Trickster: Hahahahaha. Do you see his face? Hahaha. Oh boy, I should have recorded this. Hey this is a live stream right? Someone clip that. Anyway, I have defused the bomb. And the acid isn't actually acid. It's just colored water with a light beam at the bottom. I still can't believe he doesn't check the acid pool first.

The Trickster then goes towards Gordon and pulls him down from the rope. After Gordon touches the ground, he unties him and pats Gordon's shoulder.

Trickster: Well I guess this is good enough for the apology.

Gordon: Apology?

Trickster: *Rubbing his neck* Yeah, about that. I was the one that glitter bombed your office last week. I mistook your office for another corrupt policeman and accidentally placed it on your desk. I am also technically the cause of you getting caught today. In my defense, you shouldn't startle me like that.

Gordon: Wait, you're the kid that punched me.

Trickster: I'm not a kid. I'm 16. Plenty old if you ask me. Whatever, here is your phone. Go call Batman to pick you up. I want to go back to sleep after having fun tonight. Adios.

Gordon: Wait-

Trickster then disappears into thin air like he is never there in the first place. If not for his phone in his hand and later confirmation from everyone that watched the live stream, Gordon might have admitted himself into Arkham.

That is merely the start of the many incidents involving Gotham's newest rogue the Trickster.

Part 2

[toji-bunny-girl]

You don't go to the library to study. You go there to have your cunt stuffed, by nonother than librarian!Gojo.

He works there 5 days a week, and you made sure to be there by your corner every single one of those days, carefully staring at him through the side of your book. Of course, he's well aware of your interest in him. You're so preoccupied with him you don't even realise you're holding the book upside down.

He doesn't realise it yet but he's slow to share the same amount of attraction to you as you are to him. He'd note the way your eyebrows would adorably scrunch together when you're actually doing your assignment for once, and you'd collapse face down onto the table when the frustration and exhaustion caught up to you. Or how your favourite colour seemed to be pink, your stationery and laptop covered in different shades of the colour.

He's used to your presence by now, having spent the last couple of weeks observing you just as you stalked him through the library. And truth to be told, he actually enjoyed it—he's got a cutie following behind him, too shy to strike up a conversation with him and too dumb to hide your little crush any better.

You quickly became the only part of his job he would look forward to, questioning what kind of crap you were going to pull up to just right before his shift. Until you're gone all of a sudden.

Maybe you were just late, he thought on the first day of your absence. Or maybe you're sick by the second day. Perhaps you're just busy with school…or maybe some another guy—

Why does he even care in the first place? You're just some stalker with a pretty face, nothing special out of the sea of girls in his DMs. Gojo doesn't like how he's fretting over a girl who he hasn't talked to before, your presence doesn't control how his day goes anyway.

Until it does.

It exasperated him by how he allowed himself to be subjugated under you. He can't focus on his seminars when the voices in his head wonder about you louder than the lecturer's, he can't flirt with the chicks on campus without thinking about that fangirl from the library and he can't sleep if his head is filled with the images of you with another guy.

What kind of spell have you managed to put him under?

He was completely and utterly chafed by the next week when he entered his shift, a frown seemingly marked permanently upon his face as he went through his chores, putting away the books back to their categorised shelves. That was until he heard a familiar pit-pats of your shoes, and saw your figure stupidly hiding behind a bookshelf from the side of his eye.

His playful spirit returned when he noted your presence, and he wandered further into the library, where no one could see the two of you. As expected, you shuffled along his steps before slipping yourself into the aisle behind him, pretending to flick through the choices of books on display.

Those were Chinese novels, and you majored in Biochemistry. Idiot, he thought with an internal chuckle.

Unbeknownst to you, he had strolled to your back, waiting for you to turn to face him. Your eyes nearly popped out of their sockets when you found him standing right in front of you, and you froze then and there like a deer in the headlights.

"I know you've been stalking me around here," he had a shit-eating smirk on his face as his arms rested by your sides to trap you in between them. "Freak," he whispered next to your ears, sending a tingle through your nerves.

"I-I, ah—" you stammered, trying to collect your words to sound coherent. Your face was flushed bloody red with embarrassment, and Gojo was sure he'd burn himself if he were to touch you.

"But that's okay…" he drawled. "I won't spread the word if you listen to me."

Your eyes were wide, gaping at him through your lashes as you nodded.

Fuck, were you adorable.

"You like me, huh?"

"Uhm…I, uh…"

"Hm?"

"Y-Yes," you blurted with your eyes squeezed shut, too embarrassed. Your breath was hot, and they scorched his cheeks red upon your words.

"What do you like about me?" oh god does he love teasing the hell out of you.

"Your f-face…"

"My face?" he feigned dumb. Of course, he's well aware that girls would only come chasing after his looks. But he absolutely enjoyed torturing you with his stupid questions. "Which part of my face?"

"Huh…?" your eyes were spinning, your hands raising to push his frame a little away for your comfort.

"My eyes? My nose?" his bigger hand captured the two of yours into his grasp, his fingers were icy cold against yours, and his face neared yours once again, merely a breath away. "Or my lips?"

You didn't dare to answer, the sound of your throat gulping filled the air as a few stray hairs of his tickled your cheek. His eyes peered towards yours, catching your gaze that fell upon his lips.

"There, huh?" Gojo's smirk widened, his grip on your wrists tightening a fraction. "Wanna try them?"

You opened your mouth to respond, but no words left your trembling lips, except for a silent gasp. He took the shift of your feature as a sign for him to advance onto you, his lips gently sucked on your soft flesh, the tiniest amount of your saliva flowed onto his tongue and they tasted better than the finest honey.

A string of your mixed essence connected his lips to yours, red and swollen as a sign of his kiss, when he pulled away. Your knees weakened in enfeeblement, and Gojo caught you before you could fall to the ground.

"You're done?" his arms are strong, and you could feel his muscles flex under your hand when you gathered your strength to stabilise on your feet. "I'm not."

His touches slowly trailed down from your arm to your hips, and you subconsciously rubbed your thighs together when his gaze fell onto them. In his eyes you could see a growing hunger that lurked beneath his bright blue eyes, it was the darker gradient that hung low in his orbs.

"Do you touch yourself here when you think of me?" your teeth sank into the flesh of your bottom lip and your eyes peered down to between your skirt, where his hand was as you vaguely nodded; hoping that he didn't see the faint motion of your head.

How wouldn't he know when all his attention is on you? His eyes scanned the faint shifts in your features when he pressed against your heat, making sure there wasn't any hint of dissent to his touch—and mostly searching for the muted salacity behind your pretty eyes.

"Sometimes…" your voice was meek, but it was audible enough for his ear to twitch at your words. His chest almost burst to your confession, and the images of your features twisting into lewd faces flashed past his mind, calling out his name with that sweet voice of yours.

A soft moan left your lips when his fingers slipped past your pink panty, drawing slow circles upon your clit. Your hips bucked as he teased, his other hand coming down to palm your ass.

"What about I make you feel good?" he gently asked, and you drunkenly nodded to your pleasure. His thumb grew charge of teasing your hardening bud, his two long fingers dipped into your already-slick cavern, reaching the sensitive parts of your inside.

Your lips tensed into a line to quell the moans that drew from your itching tummy, and your hands rested on Gojo's chest, gripping onto his shirt for support.

His fingers grew greedy for more of your whimpers, stroking past your walls, searching for the velvety spot in you. You threw your head back when he found the part he was looking for, pumping out and into the spongey surface, stimulating your nerves to their limit.

Your eyebrows furrowed and your eyelids flew shut when he expedited the speed of his slick-coated digits, his arm growing slightly sore as he carried you to the height of your orgasm. His cock twitched when you drew out a cry of pleasure, your breath stuck in your throat as your mind went blank from your high.

Your grip on his clothes loosened, and you panted as you rest your weight against the shelves, Gojo's damp fingers evident of the pleasure he delivered to you. He watched as you collected your remaining breath, your cheeks flushed pink in arousal and your eyesight slowly blinked clear.

A bolt flash of surprise ran through his eyes when you carefully pulled his pants down, gripping his hardened girth with your warm hands. Gojo stopped you with a grab of your wrist, your whole body tensing in creeping embarrassment—he doesn't like it when you touch him?

Your thoughts flew out the window when he spat onto your palm, before guiding your hand back to his throbbing cock. Your mind grew blank as you began fisting his length, his breath hitching when you rubbed over his pinkish-red tip.

Your touches were filled with careful inexperience, and Gojo found it absolutely fucking adorable. The soft squelching of his saliva in your hand as you pumped his cock filled the air, and he inched closer to kiss you once again.

His groans flowed into your mouth as he slipped his tongue into your mouth, drinking in the taste of you as you pleased him. You seemed to be a quick learner on your own, pumping his pulsing cock faster, gripping onto him tighter, and rubbing his sensitive tip of all.

His hips stuttered along with the movements of your hand, a sign of his close release and you were clearly relentless to please him. Your pace doesn't falter, but fastened instead and his moans muffled through your sloppy kiss, your mixed drool dripping down your chin and onto your chest.

"Fuck," his voice cracked as his cock twitched, before ejaculating his hot semen onto your clothes, slowly dripping down to your thigh. Your breaths mingled in the sultry air, the smell of your essences filled your nostrils as the both of you cooled from the aftermath of your highs.

You recognised the dirty smirk on his face when you flicked your gaze up at him, and you sank into the bookshelf in preparation for what he had conjured up in his mind.

"The library closes in 30 minutes, we'll get the whole place to ourselves by then."