#I used to change my phone background like once a week

[crowfanity]

Awakening hyperfixation grabbed me by the throat and slammed me against a wall. Again.

[writetheidea]

Shadows of the past

Hello, I made this blog solely to publish this fan fiction I wrote because the idea for the plot has been tugging at the back of my mind for months. I tried requesting it from a few writers but since they didn’t write it I remained unsatisfied. Then I remembered I also do have the ability to write.

This was thought of as a one shot. Upon receiving positive feedback and requests, a second part has been written.

Part 2

Pairing: Oscar Piastri x named!female character

Plot: Oscar's new relationship is strained by his family's constant reminders of his ex, Lily, and he fails to notice how this is affecting his girlfriend.

Tag: angst, hurt/no comfort, sad ending.

Word count: 2989

Disclaimers: english is not my first language - I feel like you could tell from my writing style - so I apologize if some of the sentences structures are off, or if I use outdated or inappropriate-for-the-context words, I used a synonym dictionary to try and stop myself from repeating the same words, I still did do that though. I also haven’t written any work of fiction since I was a teenager, so this could be bad, I just had a need to get this fan fiction out of my brain. And once I wrote it, it felt like a waste to keep it on my laptop.

The new girlfriend has a name as I wasn’t able to write this without a name, I apologize, I made it a shorter name so it can be skimmed over. There is no physical description of them.

I would like to explain that I do not think that Oscar's family would behave this way. This idea came from watching Nicole's interview in which she spoke highly about Lily and an unrelated conversation that day about families still speaking about and with ex-girlfriends.

Oscar sat in his motorhome, absentmindedly scrolling through social media notifications and posts. He wasn’t really paying attention to them. His mind was already on the track, anticipating the feel of the car and revising the strategies for the weekend. But, even as he tried to focus on the race ahead, something distracted him at the back of his mind. Something he couldn’t quite put his finger on yet, something that had been running in his head for weeks.

Across from him, Mia sat quietly, going through her phone, though he knew it wasn’t holding her attention either. She hadn’t said much all day, her silence stretching thin between them like a thread on the verge of snapping. It wasn’t like her. At least, it wasn’t like how she used to be. When they first met, Mia had been a burst of energy, her laughter infectious, her smile like a safe heaven that had pulled him out of the chaos of being a public figure. But now… something had changed.

"Oscar, did you hear what I said?" Mia’s voice was soft, almost hesitant, her eyes searching his face for any sign that he had been paying attention to what she had been saying. But he hadn't.

Oscar blinked, eyes tearing away from his phone. "Sorry, darling. What did you say?"

Mia smiled, a small, strained smile that didn’t reach her eyes. "I was asking if you wanted to go out for dinner later. You know, somewhere quiet, just the two of us. I found this place…"

Oscar nodded absentmindedly, his attention already drifting away. "Yeah, sure. Sounds good."

Mia noticed his lack of attention, but she didn’t press the issue. She had grown used to his distracted responses over the past few months, so she just sat there, her fingers gripping her phone a little too tightly, and the silence between them growing heavier. It had been like this for a while now—Oscar lost in his racing, and Mia fading quietly into the background, unnoticed.

It wasn’t always like this. There was a time when his attention had been solely hers, when Oscar had looked at her with the kind of focus he reserved for the track. Lately, though, she had started to feel like she was slipping out of view, like she was losing her place in his world. And Oscar, so wrapped up in his career, didn’t see it. Not yet.

-----

It had started subtly, in ways Mia hadn’t been able to notice at first. When she had met Oscar, she knew this relationship wouldn’t have resembled her previous ones; she was stepping into a world of fame, pressure, and expectations. But she had been prepared for that—at least, she thought she had been.

The first time she had met Oscar’s family had been over a casual dinner. Nicole had been polite, her eyes studying Mia a little closely but never purely cold. And then there were his sisters, who seemed stuck between curiosity and indifference, their questions friendly but calculated.

It wasn’t until halfway through the meal that Mia first heard the name.

“Do you remember when Lily got us pizza in Monza?” Hattie had asked with a deliberate tone, her gaze flickering toward Oscar.

Mia had frozen for a second, her fork suspended midair. Lily. She had heard the name before, of course, Oscar had talked about her, the ex-girlfriend who had been with him through his early career. Mia hadn’t worried about her, assuming she was just part of his past.

“Oh, yeah,” Mae chimed in, laughing. “From that little family-run restaurant, right? God, I miss that place.”

Nicole smiled, her eyes lighting up. “Lily was always so thoughtful. She always knew how to make us feel at home, no matter where we were.”

Mia’s chest tightened, the casual and affectionate mention of Lily, compared to how she had been addressed throughout the evening, slicing through the conversation like a shard of ice. She forced herself to smile, to nod along, pretending it didn’t bother her. But it did more than she wanted to admit.

Oscar had shifted uncomfortably beside her, clearing his throat. “Yeah, Lily was great” he had said quickly, then tried to change the subject. But the damage was done. The ghost of Lily hung over the rest of the evening like a shadow, lingering at the edges of every conversation and Mia’s mind.

-----

As the months passed, Mia couldn’t shake the feeling that she was living in someone else’s place, that no matter how much Oscar claimed to love her, no matter how much she tried to integrate herself into his life, she was no comparison to Lily. It wasn’t that his family was blatantly rude towards her, they were kind, but there was a warmth in their voices when they spoke about Lily that they didn’t extend to Mia.

Every race weekend, every family gathering, even every private moment with Oscar was tainted in her mind by the weight of someone else’s ghost.

It wasn’t until one afternoon in Monaco, when Mia stumbled across the ring, that the full weight of it hit her.

She had been tidying the bedroom while Oscar was out, taking advantage of the free time to clean the apartment, cleaning up a drawer of old clothes when she found it—a small, velvet box. Her heart had skipped a beat as she opened it, revealing a stunning diamond ring.

Her breath caught in her throat.

She wasn’t unrealistic, Mia knew this wasn’t meant for her, her relationship with Oscar still too young to warrant a proposal. No. This ring wasn’t for her. It had been bought for someone else. For Lily.

Mia closed the box with trembling hands, her chest tightening as the realization washed over her. Oscar had been planning to marry Lily. He had been ready to propose, to make her his wife, to share his life with her in a way that as of lately Mia wasn’t sure he would ever want to with her.

She had never brought it up to Oscar. She couldn’t. How could she confront him about something like this? How could she admit that she had found evidence of a future he had once planned with someone else, a future that might have happened if things hadn’t fallen apart between them?

From that day on, the weight of it pressed down on her like a constant reminder. She tried to ignore it, to push the self doubt away, to remind herself it was all part of the past. But every time Oscar’s family mentioned Lily, every time they talked about her like she was still part of their world, Mia felt herself slipping further away from the confident, energetic woman she had once been.

-----

The Monaco GP was supposed to be a new start. Mia had somewhat convinced herself that her doubts were unreasonable, that her presence in Oscar’s life was concrete. She had been trying so hard to convince her mind, to smile through the subtle slights, to act as if Lily’s constant presence in conversations didn’t bother her. But Monaco was different. Monaco was where everything changed.

The paddock was buzzing with energy as usual, the yachts in the harbor reflecting the morning sun. Mia stood beside Oscar, her hand in his as they made their way through the crowd. Fans called out to him, snapping photos, but Mia barely noticed. Her attention was elsewhere—on the small group standing near the McLaren garage.

There stood Oscar’s family. And Lily.

Mia felt her heart skip at the sight. Lily was just standing there, laughing with Nicole, looking as comfortable and at ease as she had in all the stories Mia had had to listen to in the past months. She was so effortlessly beautiful, with an air of confidence that Mia had always admired but now found unbearable.

Nicole’s eyes found Oscar, lighting up as she waved him over. “Oscar, darling! Come say hello.”

Mia felt herself stiffen, her stomach twisting into knots. Oscar hesitated for a moment, glancing at Mia before offering her a quick, apologetic smile. “I’ll just be a minute,” he murmured, squeezing her hand before walking over to his family. To her.

Mia couldn’t bring herself to do anything but watch as he greeted them, his interactions with Lily casual but friendly, too friendly in her doubt filled mind. It was like watching him slip into an old role, a role he played with ease, with a counterpart Mia couldn’t quite replace.

They talked for what felt like hours, though it had only been minutes. Mia stood there, frozen as her heart pounded in her chest as she watched Oscar laugh at something Lily said, as his mother beamed at them, as if this was how things were supposed to be. As if Mia was the outsider, the intruder in a story that had never been hers to begin with.

-----

That night, the silence in their room was deafening.

Oscar had been talking about the race, but Mia hadn’t been able to focus. She hadn’t really said much all weekend, her responses short and her mind elsewhere.

“Mia?” Oscar called, his brows furrowed as he looked at her. “Is everything okay?”

She just stared at him for a moment, unsure of how to put her thoughts into words, unsure of how to explain the feelings that had made a home in her mind. “Oscar… Do you ever think about her?”

He frowned, confused. “Who?”

“Lily,” Mia whispered, voice barely audible. “Do you still think about her? About… what could have been?”

Oscar blinked, startled by the question. “Mia, no. Of course not. I’m with you now.”

She shook her head, as she fought her anxiety and tried to gather the courage to say what had been haunting her mind for months. "You say that, Oscar, but… it feels like I’m always competing with her, against her presence in your life. And I don’t know how to stop feeling like I’m constantly fighting against someone who’s not even here anymore."

Oscar’s expression softened as he stepped toward her, one of his hands reaching out to gently cup her face. "Mia, you are not. I don't think about Lily like that anymore. That part of my life is over."

"Is it?" Mia’s voice cracked, her eyes searching his for the reassurance she so desperately needed. "Because I’m not sure your family feels the same way. They still talk about her, still invite her to races. Nicole talks about her like she could still be a part of your life, like she is supposed to be a part of your life. And Oscar… I found the ring."

Oscar’s hand dropped from her face, his eyes widening in shock. "What ring?"

"The one in your drawer," Mia said, her voice trembling. "The engagement ring. The one you bought for her."

Oscar froze, his breath catching in his throat. "Mia… I didn’t mean for you to find that. I—I should have gotten rid of it a long time ago."

"Why didn’t you?" she asked. "Why didn’t you get rid of it if you had moved on? You kept it, Oscar, that has to mean something. And every time she is brought up, every time I notice her presence still somewhat in your life, I feel like I’ll never be good enough. Like I’m standing in her shadow, no matter what I do."

Oscar sighed deeply, running a hand through his hair as he sat on the edge of the bed. "Mia, I didn’t keep the ring because I still have feelings for her. I kept it because… I never knew what to do with it. You are right, I did want to propose to Lily at some point, I couldn’t see that our relationship was dying, I was trying to deny it. But I didn’t propose in the end. I realized it wasn’t right. I never told you because I didn’t want to hurt you."

Mia hugged herself, staring at the floor. "But it does hurt now, Oscar. And it hurts every time they bring her up, every time they talk about how perfect she was, how much they loved her. It feels like I’m just… filling a spot that’s still meant for her."

Oscar stood up and reached for her again, his voice carrying an underlying urgency. "Mia, you’re not filling a space. I love you. I want to be with you. I thought you knew that."

"I thought I did too," she whispered, tears filling her eyes. "But… I don’t know anymore. And I feel like I’m losing myself trying to live up to the memory of someone I’m not while you didn’t even notice how much it’s been affecting me."

Oscar’s heart sank as he took in her words, the weight of his and his family’s actions finally settling on his shoulders. He had known that they still cared for Lily, but he hadn’t understood how much it had been hurting Mia. And he hadn’t noticed how distant she had become, how her bright light had started to dim under the constant comparisons.

He sat back down, hands resting in his lap as he stared at the floor. "Mia, I’m sorry. I didn’t realize… I didn’t know it was this bad."

Mia took a deep, shaky breath, tears staining her face. "You didn’t. I don’t know if I can keep doing this, Oscar. I love you, so much so that I have been willing to hurt myself to be with you, but I can’t keep feeling like I’m not enough. Like I’ll never be enough."

Oscar looked up at her, desperation in his eyes at the implications of her words. "You are enough, Mia. You’ve always been enough."

She shook her head, wiping her eyes. "If I was enough, your family wouldn’t still be holding onto Lily. They wouldn’t be talking about her like she’s still the one for you… They wouldn’t make me feel like I’m always in second place in a one person competition."

Oscar felt his throat tighten, his guilt and frustration rising to the surface. He had been so focused on his career, on the races, that he hadn’t noticed how much this had been affecting Mia. And now, standing in front of him, she looked so lost, so hurt, that he wasn’t sure how to fix it.

"I’ll talk to them," he said, his voice firm. "I’ll make sure they understand. They can’t keep doing this to you—to us. I’ll set boundaries. I don’t want to lose you, Mia."

Mia’s gaze softened for a moment, but the pain in her eyes was still there. "It’s not just about them, Oscar. It’s about how I’ve been feeling invisible, like I don’t matter as much in your life. I don’t know if talking to them will change how I feel about myself now. I don’t know if it’ll be enough to fix this."

Oscar’s heart clenched. He could see the cracks in their relationship now, the ones he had been too blind to notice before. And he realized, with a sinking feeling, that this wasn’t something he could just fix with a few words or promises. This was deeper.

"What do you want me to do?" he asked quietly, his voice almost breaking. "Tell me what I can do to make this right."

Mia stood there for a long moment, staring at him, the weight of the decision she had come to after months of suffering heavy on her shoulders. She loved him, she had given everything to this relationship, but the constant reminders of his past with Lily had killed her confidence, her sense of security.

"I think…" she began, her voice shaky, "I think I need some time. Time to figure out if I can keep doing this, if I can keep being in this relationship without losing myself further."

Oscar felt a chill run through him at her words. "Mia, please don’t say that. Don’t say you’re leaving."

"I’m not leaving," she clarified, though the look in her eyes betrayed her uncertainty of their future. "But I need space. I need time to think about what’s best for me, because right now… I don’t feel like I’m good for you. And I don’t feel like this is good for me."

Oscar’s chest tightened painfully as he stepped toward her, his hands trembling as he reached for hers. "I love you. I don’t want to lose you."

Tears spilled from Mia’s eyes again as she looked down at their hands. "I love you too, Oscar. But love isn’t enough if I don’t feel like I belong in your life. If I don’t feel like your family accepts me. Like I can accept myself."

He swallowed hard, fighting his own tears. "I’ll make them understand. I’ll fight for us."

She pulled her hands away gently, taking a step back. "I need to fight for myself first."

Oscar felt the floor drop from under him as Mia turned toward the door. She paused for a moment, her hand resting on the doorknob, before looking back at him with tears in her eyes.

"Please don’t hate them," she whispered. "I know they didn’t mean to hurt me. But… they did. And I don’t know how to fix that."

And with that, she slipped out of the room, out of the apartment, leaving Oscar standing alone, silence deafening around him. The weight of his family’s actions, of his own inaction, pressed down on him.

He had always thought he could balance everything—his career, his family, his relationship—but now, as the door closed behind Mia, he realized that he had been wrong. He had been so focused on winning races, on making his family happy, that he hadn’t seen the cracks forming beneath the surface of his relationship and in the heart of the woman he loved.

And now, he wasn’t sure if he would ever get her back.

[lovebvni]

mindset of manifestation & how i manifest

like melanie martínez, i am back from the dead.

i apologize for being gone so long, but i needed a break from tumblr. i saw toxicity swirling in the community, my life got busy, and i decided it was just time for a break. when i was planking to come back, i just saw how things got terrible and i got upset and decided not to come back.

so, im back now and with a little tutorial on how i manifest!!! <3 i hope this can help some of you out.

let’s start with background.

manifesting is kind of like predicting the future. you have something you want to happen, then it happens soon after. i feel like this is the easiest way to get into the manifestation mindset. you cannot change what you’re getting if you want it. could you change your mind later and return it like a package? yes! but before it arrives, you know it’s arrival is coming.

sure, there can be delays, but it all is going to turn out YOUR way in the end.

nile and i have been working on our mindset and this is something they wrote that i think can be really helpful — as it was to me.

from the past two years we have been actively manifesting, we learned that we often saw things as “crazy”. but manifesting isn’t crazy, it’s quite normal.

every time you get dressed in the morning, it’s an act of manifestation. you’re showing up with what you want.

manifestation is a mondane activity!! stop treating it like it was a kiss from an angel!

by reading this, you’re manifesting your eyes working, you’ve used your hands to open an app, and you have believed you can read and get through this blog! without manifesting that, you would not be here.

the first step to manifestation is believing you can do it, believing you have done it, and believing you will continue to do it. period.

there are many MANY different ways to manifest, but i manifest in 3 ways (sometimes i use all three, sometimes i use just 1 or 2.)

!! I ALMOSR FORGOT TO PUT THIS AND IM ADDING IT BEFORE I GET TO NUMBER 2 OMG!!

STOP! BEFORE ANYTHING ELSE I WANT YOU TO GET A NOTEBOOK, A SHEET OF PAPER, OR MAKE A CHECKLIST ON YOUR PHONE IN YOUR NOTES APP!!!

now i want you to write down everything you want right now down and leave the boxes blank if you haven’t gotten them yet.

once you get through that, i want you to randomly click between some of the items you want and write down things you wanted that you did get! they can be some simple and things from years ago, what matters is you have them down. throw in some things that you may have to do for school or work while you’re at it.

here’s an example! (left is before checking off, right is after)

as you can see, i added a note to the side because i got what i wanted and more abundantly! i had been manifesting a dog since i was a young child, and in 2021, i got 2!!!! (one is laying at my feet right now <3)

continue to do this daily, weekly, or whatever you have time for. i personally do this on notion and i try to add something new daily (im adding the heartstopper thing rn!!)

but yeah!! write everything u want down, and continue to add to it, just so u can see progress DOES happen and your work and effort DOES pay off!

affirming and persisting

this id the first way i learned to manifest, and the most self-explanatory.

you simply repeat what you want over and over until you get it! but not in the future tense, in the current or past tense.

ex; “i passed my maths final!”, “im so happy my boyfriend gave me those roses for valentine’s day, he’s so sweet!”, “i finished the essay for english like a week before it was due!” “i got the lead role in my play! im so excited!” etc.

now, the common factor between all of these is having a positive mindset about them. i cannot tell you HOW many times i manifested something would go well, and right before they happened, i got in a shitty mind space and wondered if it would ever happen.

but, nonetheless, i persisted through and i got what i wanted.

the pain have have been feeling cant compare to the joy that is coming. Romans 8:18

persisting is basically pushing through. think about the time you didn’t think you would make it through an injury, a school year, a trial, yet you still walked through it — even if it was slow.

like when work days are long and you want to go home, but you can’t, so you persist.

i try to think of my manifestations as an ultimatum. it’s going to happen, and that’s final. the only thing you have to do to get it is stay conscious.

and staying conscious, walking through those days, is how you get to the end!

i use affirming and persisting with pretty much everything, which is why it was first.

2. listening to subs.

it’s that simple — listen to an audible subliminal that has the results you want over and over!! that’s all i do u guys. here’s my playlist if u want it (IF I DELETE IT CHECK MY PINNED POST!! I UPDATE IT OFTEN)

i often use @stilljuststardust’s subs, slade’s subs, enchanted workshops’ subs and i want it, i got it’s subs!

all of them are trusted and credible. i cannot promise you that all the subs in my playlist will work for you, as they are (sometimes) linked to my personal desires.

3. pinterest manifestation!!

i recommend having either a whole pinterest account or a board set aside for this way of manifestation.

you simply make boards (or sections) for things you want. i would say this is best for physical items, people, looks, makeup, etc. things that re physically tangible, rather than something like reality shifting (although i do have a reality shifting board! it has been working pretty well <3)

i also have one for my mindset, my religion, so on and so forth (link btw)

i think this is pretty self explanatory. just save picture of things you want and quotes/affirmations and DONE!

i also use this sub with it :p it’s worked WONDERSSS!

if you have any other questions i will be happy to answer them!! i love you all!! go manifest!!

[samandcolbyownme]

Summary: I think the cover art is pretty self explanatory😚

Warnings: SMUT18+, strong language, mentions of weed, hints at dealer!Colby, slight arguing, kissing, hair pulling, choking, biting, scratching, unprotected sex, oral (f rec), general filth

Word Count: 1.7k | unedited

You ignored your phone vibrating on the bed, rolling over to try and fall back asleep.

But that was no use.

You extended your arm out behind you, grabbing your phone to silence the buzzing, but as soon as you go to lay it down, it lights up in your hand, and it’s exactly who you thought it was.

“It’s three in the fucking morning.” You mumble as you lay the phone on your ear.

“And I’m trying to change your mind.” Colby starts. You can hear him take a drag of what you can only assume is something that has weed in it, “I’ve left you multiple missed called, you haven’t replied to a-“

“Why do you only call me when you’re high?”

He laughs slightly, “High?”

“Yes.” You breathe out, “Why do you only call me when you’re high?”

He stays quiet, so you sigh, “Are you at a party?”

“I thought I saw you leaving, your heels tucked under your arm..” Colby takes another drag and you roll your eyes as you sit up, “I’m home. Sleeping. Or was.” You scoff, shaking your head, “Co-“

He cuts you off, “Decided that, once again, I was just dreamin’ of bumping into you.”

“What are you getting at Colby? We broke up, weeks ago. I-“

“That’s why I’m calling at three in the mornin’. I’m trying to change your mind. I miss you a-“

You cut him off, “If you miss me, then why did you break up with me?”

“Why does it feel like it’s getting harder to get you to listen?” Colby sighs and you tilt your head, “Are you trying to flirt or start a fight because I can tell you that it feels like you’re leaning more towards the second option.”

“Y/n. Please, just-“

Chatter in the background cuts Colby off. You can hear him bitching at whoever it is to let him alone, but they don’t give up.

“Colby.” You wait but no reply, “Colby. Colby Brock.”

It suddenly gets quiet, “I’m here.”

“What do you want?” You ask quietly, slightly hoping that he actually puts up a fight.

“You. I was… stupid. Really fucking stupid a-“

You cut him off, “Come over. If you’re begging for me back, I want to hear it in person.” You hang up and sit there for a second, collecting your thoughts on what just happened.

“Fuck.” You sigh, laying a hand over your face, “Goddamn it, Colby.”

You sit there until you get the, I’m here, text from Colby. You get up, wrapping your arms around yourself as you walk to your door.

You take a deep breath before unlocking and opening it, “You shouldn’t drive while under the influence.”

(A/N: You really shouldn’t. Alcohol or any drugs. It’s not worth the risk. Stay safe my loves)

“Still worried, I see.” Colby chuckles as he pushes the door closed. You turn around, shrugging, “Does it matter?”

“Yes it matters.” Colby runs a hand through his hair, “I’ve been going to a place, somewhere darker each time and it’s always the same shit.”

You furrow your brows, “What?”

“All I can think about is you.” Colby shrugs, “Feels like I’m, I don’t know, running out of time with you. I haven’t found all I was hoping to find and that’s mainly because you aren’t by my side.”

“Whose fault is that?” You stare at Colby, “it was supposed to be an early night. I have to be up early.”

“You’re starting to bore me with this needing to be up early shit, baby.” Colby jokes, laughing as he walks over to you, cupping your cheeks, “Why haven’t you replied to any of my message?”

“Why do you only call me when you’re high?” You raise your brows and Colby tilts his head back, “Jesus Christ, why-“ he sighs, licking his lips as he looks down at you, “Because that’s when I can have all of my thoughts in order and tell you shit without being scared.”

You jerk your head back, “Wh-what? Why are you scared? Of all people, me?”

“Because you have this fire that draws me in like a moth to a flame. You have my heart, even when you say you don’t want it, you still do, and that just.. scares the ever living shit out of me.”

His words silence you.

“I’m sorry I hurt you, and it’s okay if-“

“Did you sleep with anyone else?” Your own words even shock you, you had no idea they were going to spill out.

He shakes his head, “No. I’ve spent all my time with Sam, and I’m positive he’s about to kick my ass to the curb because all I do is talk about you.” Colby slides his hands down to yours and gives them a squeeze, “I’m sorry that putting you through hell made me realize how much of an asshole I really am.” He brings your hands up, kissing your knuckles, “You didn’t deserve that.”

You watch as his lips connect to each knuckle, over and over again.

You can tell he’s genuine with his words, and his actions.

“Colby.” You whisper, wiggling your one hand free to reach up and tilt his chin up, “Prove it.”

With that he lifts you up, arms wrapping tight around your waist as your hands find his neck. Your ankles lock at the small of his back and he leads you into your room.

He lays you down on the bed, his body still over yours as his lips find yours again, “You’re so beautiful.”

His hand slides down to pull your shirt up, moving down your body as he leaves little kisses along the way.

“I’ve missed you.” He whispers as he kisses over the band of your panties, “The way you taste.” He kisses down over your hip and to the inside of your thigh, “The sounds you make when I touch you just right.”

His hand slides down so his thumb can press small circles onto your clothed clit, earning whimpers from you as you roll your hips.

“Just like that, baby.” He groans lowly as he presses a kiss just below his thumb, “Fuck.”

“Please..” you whimper out, reaching down to lay a hand on his head. He chuckles lowly, “Thought you wanted to hear me beg? Thats why I’m here right?”

You roll your eyes, train of thought derailed when he pulls your panties down your legs and spreads your thighs, not even giving you a second to prepare before diving in.

You gasp, fingers tugging at his hair as your back lifts up off the bed, “Fuck. Colby.”

His tongue darts in and out of you, earning moans and whimpers to fill the room. His hands grip your hips, groaning against you as he pushes his tongue into you.

You needed more, and you needed more now.

You lean forward, pulling him up and wrapping your legs around his waist as his lips fall to yours.

His tongue moves against yours as your hands slip in between your bodies to undo his pants.

He leans up, discarding his shirt and pushing down his jeans and boxers before falling back over top of you. He cups your cheek with one hand as he slowly starts to slip inside of you.

Moans from both of you mix together, swallowing one another’s as his thrusts pick up, “Fuck. You feel so good.” He mumbles against your lips, “I’m sorry. You deserve the world.”

He brushes his thumb over your cheek, “And if you changed your mind, I’m going to give it to you.”

You nod, “Yes, yes.” You pull him in to kiss him, “Please.”

He kisses back your jaw, groaning out lowly as he his hand slides to your neck. Your nails dig into his shoulders, dragging down his back as his thrusts pick up speed.

You tighten your legs around him as your walls squeeze his cock, “C-Colby…I’m so close.”

“Cum for me, baby. You got it.” He presses a kiss to your forehead, “M’not going anywhere.”

You moan out, burying your face into his neck as your arms tighten around him, “Fuck, fuck.” You gasp, throwing your head back as you reach your point, “Shit, shit. Yesyesyes.”

“That’s my girl.” Colby whispers, “That feel good?”

You nod, eyes closed as you moan out, “Yes, yes, so fucking good.”

He kisses down your neck, sucking a mark into your skin, groaning as he pushes his own urge to cum away, “You’re gonna make me cum already.” He chuckles slightly and you lay your hand on his cheek, looking up at him, “I can cancel my meeting in the morning.”

Colby smirks, “You do-“

“It’s nothing important anyway.” You pull him in for a kiss, “Just dont stop.”

You moan into his mouth as his thrusts pick up, nails go back to digging into his shoulders and your chest presses against his, “S-shit.” You moan louder, “I’m gonna cum.”

“One more time, baby.” Colby whispers, “Just one more.”

Your walls spasm around him as you let go, falling into the euphoric state once again. Colby manages to guide you through your high before pulling out, spilling onto your waist with a groan.

He lays next to you and you lay there, staring up at the dimly lit ceiling, “No more three am calls, alright? Not unless it’s an emergency.”

You laugh slightly as you go to sit up, but Colby stops you, “Hold on.” He gets up, going to grab a towel for you, “This was an emergency, though.”

“How?” You roll over into your side, watching as he tosses the towel down before climbing back into bed with you, “I was going to lose you for good if I didn’t step it up.”

“I would have came back.” You mumble before turning over to face him.

“Even after I hurt you?” He questions as he brushes hair from your face, and you nod, “If I didn’t think I loved you, I wouldn’t give you the time of day.”

Colby smiles slightly and nods, “I think I love you, too.”

——

This felt I don’t know rushed?? But, thank you so much for reading! I love you all soooo much! See you in the next one!

Likes and reblogs are majorly appreciated!

[sierrale8ne]

40 DAYS AND 40 NIGHTS CHAPTER FOUR

thought i’d be lying if i said ‘i didn’t want you to myself.’ when you look me in my eyes and, tell me that it’s mine, i…

pairing wnba!paige bueckers x singer!oc

taglist @thaatdigitaldiary @rosemariiaa @patscorner @makethemhoesmad @wbbgetsmewetter @authentic-girl03 @ohbueckers

kalena speakss 🪽! i had no clue what to write for this chapter but i scrapped something together and here it is! pls know this was supposed to be out like two hours ago but most of it got deleted and i had to rewrite it, so ignore any typos for the moment, ill fix em eventually 😭

May 2025 — Los Angeles, California

My leg bounces anxiously in the passenger seat of Julian’s car. The vehicle is silent, oddly enough, a complete 180 turn from the atmosphere of the last few days.

Things were really good. Julian and I were getting along better than ever, date nights and sleepovers. Up until we were arguing again. About schedules, staying out late, and of course the biggest disagreement in our relationship; the public.

We stayed up through all the hours of the night last night yelling at each other because I didn’t post about our date on my story; which I thought was childish but Julian evidently thought it was very serious.

Maybe I was wrong.

Maybe it was a big deal. Even when I thought about it from his perspective, I would probably be upset too. But the issue was we’ve talked about this before, countless times.

I sat looking out the window, an air-pod in my right ear that softly played music to keep my head clear. Briefly interrupted by my text tone going off.

Marayeeeee

Paige. Obviously. She’s been the most consistent number in my phone since the dinner party a while back.

don’t ask me for more banana pudding please

You trippin 😭😭

Wanted to see if you were busy, I miss you

“Who’s that?” Julian asks me.

“Just Paige.” I responded, my eyes only briefly looking up from my phone to look at him. It didn’t take a genius to notice how his demeanor changed. The slight roll of his eyes, and the shift in his seat.

“You guys have been talking a lot lately, no?”

He would be right. Aside from the texting throughout all hours of the day, we’ve gone out for lunch a few times over the last couple weeks. She was good company, and very easy to get comfortable around.

“Yeah, something like that.”

i’m actually heading to the airport rn…

Oh

Where to?

dallas! i have a few shows in texas and atl

but i’ll be back next weekend since you miss me so bad ;)

She doesn’t respond right away and I take that as the opportunity to shut my phone off and stick it into my pocket.

Julian lets out a long sigh as his hand runs over his face. “You know we still have to talk about last night, right?”

“What is there to talk about if we’re just gonna keep disagreeing?” I ask softly, trying to avoid raising my voice and starting yet another argument.

“You want me to stop bringing it up? Fine. But don’t get mad when I don’t put up with it anymore.”

The LAX drop off comes into my view and I turn my head to avoid looking at him once more. I don’t miss the lump that sits in my throat, or the tears that sting my eyes. I’ve never considered myself emotional, normally just keeping how I felt to myself or writing it in music, but that one stung.

“Okay Ju.” I shake my head, unbuckling my seatbelt when the car comes to a stop. “That’s fine.” I comment before stepping out of the car. Even after all that, he still hops out to help me get my bags, and I know he’s upset with me and I’m just as upset with him but the way he hugs me and kisses my forehead nearly makes me forget about it.

Nearly.

Because even then, I’m thinking about how his arms don’t feel like they used to. And after a few seconds the kiss that is lingering on my forehead just feels like slobber that I can’t wait to wipe off.

—

May 2025 — Las Vegas, Nevada

I sit comfortably on my hotel bed, a game playing as background noise in front of me and film on my iPad. We play the Aces tomorrow on prime time television and though I should probably be getting some rest, there’s only one person that could possibly be keeping me up at midnight before game day.

Maraye. Obviously.

I can see every bit of her from the phone screen. She’s laying on her bed quite literally giving me a show of her entire upper body. She has on a gray tank top, and I have to remind myself to look up at her face rather than the way her tits sit in that top.

“Paige?”

“Yeah, sorry. What did you say?”

“I said shouldn’t you be watching film instead of me?” She joked. I turned my head before she could get a look of the flush of my face.

“Yes, actually, but you wanted to talk about um, what’s his name again?”

“Julian?”

“Yeah him, and I’m trying to be a good friend.” I shrugged. “What was the issue again?”

Maraye sulks on the other line, shaking her head before speaking. “It’s like we always argue about the same shit. I don’t have the energy to put up with it anymore.”

I’m probably the world’s biggest asshole for giving her relationship advice while wanting her in my bed right now, but oddly enough there isn’t a bone in my body that cares.

“Don’t y’think you should tell him that? That it’s tiring or something?” I suggest. My head leans to the side to get a better look at her and it’s so hard to stay focused on the topic at hand when she’s looking the way she does right now.

Maraye’s skin is glass. I swear if I were to look hard enough I would see my reflection in it. There’s a few freckles that sit on her skin that I can’t just barely see in the light. She has on her reading glasses, wide round frames that complement her brown skin and brown eyes beautifully.

“I tried! But then it makes me look like the bad guy, and I don’t wanna seem like an asshole.”

“How would you be the bad guy for saying how you feel? It’s not that hard, I mean you’re doing it with me right now.”

She laughs at this. “That’s not the same.”

“Yeah? How?”

There’s a silence on the other end, and I notice the way she breaks eye contact with me. Her head turning away from the phone screen and instead looking up somewhere else in the room.

She’s right, it’s not the same. I’m not the one she goes home too, or will introduce to her family, no matter how often I daydream that I am. Nevertheless, still I convince myself that it is.

“We’ve been friends as long as you guys been together, and you can tell me everything, right? Why not him?” I ask. My eyes trail away from the phone screen and over to my iPad to make the silence a bit more comfortable.

“You’re just easier to talk to, Paige. I don’t know.” Her voice trails off at the end of her sentence. “I’m just being dramatic, it’s fine.”

Now in the last two-ish weeks that I’ve been blessed with the pleasure to call Maraye my friend, I’ve picked up on quite a few habits of hers. One of which, being her ability to toss her feelings to the side as if they don’t matter. There’s probably nothing I hate more than that.

“No you’re not.” I sigh, looking back at her. “I’m sorry, but if he’s gonna be mad about how you react to how he’s made you feel instead of fixing it, then he ain’t the one for you, angel. You should find someone who is.”

—

June 2025 — Atlanta, Georgia

Paige’s words have hung over my head like a cloud over the last week.

I’ve made a great handful of friends since leaving Atlanta for LA, all of which I’d like to think have made huge impacts in my life, but none of which even compare to my friendship with Paige.

She’s amazing. Not a flaw in her Godsend personality. And not just in the building-a-grocery-store-in-her-hometown kinda way, but in literally every way imaginable. I laugh harder around her, she gives me amazing advice, and we just clicked almost instantly. It was so, different?

That’s probably the best word, different.

At first I thought it was admiration. I was a fan of hers and as such I felt a certain way about being friends with her. It felt good.

In reality, my idea couldn’t possibly be more far fetched.

I’ve never once questioned my sexuality. For me, my “normal” has just always been guys. There was never a girl friend of mine that made me feel a certain way, or a girl crush that was anything more than a brief fixation. So believe me when I say that how I feel about Paige— when she texts me, or calls to say she misses me, and especially when she calls me angel— that is far from my normal.

It all happened too fast, too much for me to process. I thought my connection with Julian was quick, I mean after a week I was all about him. But me and Paige? We clicked off of one conversation, maybe even the second she fell into my lap at the game. I have no idea how to feel about that.

So as a result, I haven’t spoken to her since that night in Dallas. It thought it would be simple, since it gave me the opportunity to focus on my shows and my career. Yet, all it has me doing is fucking missing her.

I’m seated on the couch in my dressing room backstage before my show in Atlanta. My thumb is hovering over the girl’s contact. Her contact photo stares back at me dangerously. It’s a photo of the two of us from Cameron’s dinner party, Paige’s nose is scrunched as she throws up a peace sign and I’m showing all 32 while throwing up one of my own.

I’m about to press the contact. I don’t know much but I assume she doesn’t have a game tonight, and all I want before going on stage is to hear her voice as she talks about literally anything.

I don’t care about how wrong it feels to be thinking about her in this way, or the fact that I should probably be on stage in less than 10 minutes. All I’m thinking about is Paige.

So yeah, I’m about to click on the dial button when the janky silver door knob twists open. I catch a peak at some royal blue flowers before all 6 feet and 3 inches of Julian steps through the door. My face doesn’t even try to mask its shock.

He looks handsome in his outfit. He always does. A white shirt with a black zip up hoodie along with jean shorts and a pair of Timbs. He’s gotten a haircut, I can tell from how clean his lineup is. His natural curls are pulled into cornrows down the back of his head.

It’s my first time seeing his face in a few days and in person since our awkward goodbye at LAX last week. Oh yeah, I haven’t spoken to him very much this past week either. Oddly enough, it was easier to do than with Paige.

When he steps closer, Julian hands me the flowers first before sitting next to me on the couch.

“What’re you doin’ here?” I ask incredulously. He pulls me into a hug from where we sit on the couch, cologne travels through the air and up into my nose. Dior Sauvage, I could point it out anywhere.

“I haven’t seen you in a minute.” Julian says. He leans into me and our lips connect softly, much different to the manner we’ve been treating one another with over the last couple weeks. Even then I don’t hesitate when I kiss him back. His lips feel so familiar, and they are because I haven’t felt them in quite some time. “Thought I should surprise you.” He mutters against my lips.

I pull away haphazardly, his eyes stare back into mine. Only this time it’s not as familiar, namely the fact that they aren’t big blue orbs that I swear dilate ever so slightly when they look at mine.

My feet lift me off the couch and over to the vanity. I place the flowers he gave me, roses, on the surface. “Sure did surprise me.” I joke. When I turn back around, with my hands pressed to the vanity chair behind me, Julian is manspreading slightly, the look on his face one that I call suggestive. “I have to be on stage in like… seven minutes.” I announce awkwardly with a glance to the gold watch on my wrist.

“So?”

“So, you have to get outta here and I have to finish up sound stuff.” I explain. My fingers fix the smeared lip gloss on my chin while I look down at him.

Julian stands up and approaches me, it’s times like this where I forget how tall he actually is. And the shoes on his feet give him another inch or two.

“What’s up wit’ you, babe? If you don’t want me here, I can go back to LA.” I don’t like the tone in his voice, mainly because it’s pointed as if he wants to say something to me but knows that it would upset me.

“What? No, I literally have to be on stage. You know how Kaylee gets.” I tell him. My hand reaches up for his tanned cheek and he doesn’t fight me off. I hear my phone ring in on the couch, but I can’t take it on stage with me so ignore it. It’s probably Kaylee cursing me out for being late.

Julian presses a kiss to my palm and I internally shudder. “You sure?” Just like that his tone is different. It’s the soft and deeper baritone that made me fall for him in the first place, not the aggressive accusatory voice I’ve become used to.

I nod. My mouth opens up to speak when I’m cut off by multiple bangs on the door before it swings open.

“Julian, I told you to wait until after the show. Raye we gotta go, now!” It’s Kaylee, as it always is. She reaches for my arm, which is bare due to my stylist's decision to fit me in a strapless top for tonight’s show. “You give me gray hairs, I swear.” She mumbles as she pulls me away from Julian.

In my head I’m silently thanking her for what I think was either Julian trying to have sex with me or him trying to start an argument about me not wanting to have sex with him. Either way I’m thankful.

As we leave, I hear my phone ring again from the couch. Julian reaches for it, and just before the door shuts I see him press a button and toss it back onto the couch.

It shouldn’t bother me because I have bigger priorities, namely the crowd of 10,000 people who paid money for this show. But still, it plays in the back of my mind while Kaylee scolds me and my sound manager fits the earpiece to my ear and puts the microphone in my hand.

[ineffablywriting]

favourite crime - part ii

Part ii - retail therapy

It had been just under two months since she had spoken to Harry. She hadn’t bothered to reach out again. She figured if he ever wanted to chat he would reach out himself but he never did. 

Initially she’d been hopeful that once he’d calmed down enough that he would try and talk to her again. But that hope had dwindled as the days had gone on, and had officially been snuffed out when she’d received an email from his lawyer three weeks ago. 

It had demanded a paternity test once the baby was born and included a contract and an NDA outlining that Alena was to never publicly speak of Harry being the father, if the paternity test proved true, and an agreed upon amount that he would pay each month as child support. 

She’d quickly signed the NDA and emailed it back before contacting her own lawyer about the contract. 

She’d been telling the truth when she’d said she never wanted anything from Harry, so she’d had them whip up a contract of her own stipulating that she would never ask Harry for any money, but that she also wouldn’t hide his identity from the child once they were old enough to understand and go looking for him. She’d also added a clause that allowed Harry any parental rights should he change his mind, but that when the baby was older Alena would not force a relationship between them if they refused contact with him. 

She’d promptly sent that off as well and hadn’t heard anything since. She hadn’t expected this sort of prolonged reaction from Harry, she’d thought he was one of the good ones, and she was heartbroken that he’d proved her wrong and furious with herself for allowing herself to love him enough that his reaction caused her heart to pinch every time she thought about him. But she didn’t care anymore, she couldn’t care anymore, she had more pressing things to take care of. 

Morning sickness had been an absolute nightmare for her. She’d barely been able to keep any food down and when she’d last gone to see her family doctor she’d been told she had lost too much weight and needed to better maintain her diet. 

Which was easier said than done when everything made her want to throw up. 

She sighed, eyeing the dry biscuits she’d been eating each morning with reluctance. It had been the only thing that didn’t upset her stomach, like she’d been recovering from a stomach virus. 

But this morning she wanted cereal. 

Letting out a quiet sigh, she pushed the biscuits aside and stood up, reaching up for a bowl and her favourite chocolate cereal. She poured only a very small amount before adding some milk and tentatively taking a bite. When she didn’t immediately gag she continued to eat, bringing the milk and cereal pack with her to the table. 

She was halfway through her second bowl when her phone vibrated with a call. 

She stared at the screen in surprise, letting it ring and ring until it stopped then picked up again. 

Gemma Styles calling…

This time she reached out and hesitantly slid the screen across to answer.

She hadn’t expected Harry’s sister to reach out. She’d figured Harry would have told her and his mum everything and they too would want nothing to do with her. 

“He-hello?” she answered, cautiously. 

“My brother is a twat,” Gemma greeted her back. 

Alena choked on the small bite of cereal she’d just swallowed and moved the phone away from her ear to cough and clear her throat. 

“I’m sorry?” she brought the phone back to her ear, sure she must have misheard. 

“My brother is a twat,” Gemma repeated calmly. “Are you ok?” she asked, a hint of concern in her words. 

“Yeah, just-just food went down the wrong pipe.”

“She’s fine mum, just choked on a bit of food,” she heard Gemma call out in the background. So Anne was there too. Alena stood up and started to pace nervously. 

“Ok so, back to my brother being a twat. He is, just in case you missed it. He only just told us everything last week. Why haven’t you called us? Mum’s worried.” 

“I - I didn’t know, I mean, I didn’t think you guys would - I don’t understand. If Harry told you everything then why -” but Gemma cut her off. 

“Why are we calling you?” she asked, words gentle. 

“Yeah,” Alena breathed out. “I didn’t think you’d want to hear from me again.” 

“Yeah, well, we’ve known you almost as long as we’ve known Harry. Just because he’s got his head up his arse, doesn’t mean we do. Besides, we’d at least like to hear your side of things. And honestly, mum is a bit chuffed at the idea of a grandkid. I don’t think she really cares how they come to exist.” 

Alena just imagined Gemma’s eye roll at that and couldn’t help but let out a little laugh. It was full of relief and love for the two women she knew were listening on the other side. 

“Sorry,” she sighed, feeling as though the weight of the world had been lifted off her shoulders. “I didn’t want to step on anyone’s toes by calling you,” she admitted, refusing to mention Harry’s name. 

“Harry is a grown man. He can handle us having you in our lives even if he doesn’t approve. And if he can’t, tough. We’ve put up with worse for him,” Gemma said firmly. “Now, mum wants to know when you are free for dinner. We have a couple months worth of catching up to do.” 

“Uh-.” 

“No, Harry won’t be there,” Gemma said before she could ask. Alena let a small smile slip onto her lips as she imagined the eye roll she was getting. 

“I’m free any time,” she replied, refusing to acknowledge how sad and pathetic that sounded. 

“Great, we’ll see you tomorrow night then,” Gemma said happily before they quickly ended the call. 

Alena put her phone down and turned back to her cereal. A small part of her heart had unravelled during the phone call and she felt it fill up with hope as she allowed a small smile to slip onto her face. 

-

He was dating Olivia Wilde. 

It had felt like a punch to the gut when Alena had seen the pictures. She hadn’t been prepared for it, it hadn’t even been something that had crossed her mind as a possibility. Yet there Harry was, pictured out with her and her kids looking like a happy family while she sat at home with his own child growing in her womb, and he couldn’t spare a single thought towards her. 

She knew part of the feelings clenching around her heart were due to the hormones that were swirling wildly in her body, but a larger part was hurt that he’d rather play family with someone else and their kids, than with her. Was being with Alena really that bad? 

She didn’t have time to think about it for too long, the spiralling thoughts interrupted by a knock at her door. 

She had no idea who it could be, thinking maybe she had imagined it until they knocked again. She hurried to her feet, grabbed her keys and unlocked the door without looking through the peephole. 

“Oh, hey Gemma,” she greeted in surprise. Dinner with Gemma and Anne had felt like travelling back in time to when they’d all get together and catch up on all the different stories Harry had told each of them over the weeks he’d spent away on tour. He’d confessed to her once that he never told any of them the same story to make sure they all stayed in touch and took care of one another while he was away. He claimed he felt guilty leaving his mum and sister alone all the time, but Alena had known he’d done it mostly for her. 

They’d grown up together. Every important milestone in their lives had been a shared moment between the two of them when no one else was around. They’d been so many of each other’s firsts and helped each other stay on solid ground when the world was spiralling out of control around them. But each time Harry went away on tour and Alena was left behind, she knew he felt guilty as they drifted further and further apart from each other and she was left alone again. 

Gemma and Anne were family, and after she’d lost her own parents, Harry had wanted her to have some semblance of home while he was away as well. And maybe a small part of him hoped it would help stop the chasm forming between them. 

It had been stories like that and throwaway moments of thoughtfulness that had chipped away at her heart until she’d unknowingly fallen in love with him - a consequence Harry hadn’t ever considered. 

“Hey,” Gemma grinned at her, gently pushing Alena aside and making her way into the apartment. 

Alena flinched at the pile of dishes she’d left in the sink and hoped Gemma wouldn’t judge her for the mess. She was too busy wallowing in self pity to do any housework. 

“Sooo, how are you?” Gemma asked on her way to the lounge. “Dinner was nice. Mum wants to do it again soon. She couldn’t stop talking about how nice it was to have all her girls back together, as though there were more than two of us there,” Gemma rolled her eyes before her expression softened into something like wistfulness. “It was nice though,” she admitted. “I don’t even remember the last time we’d all gotten together. It’s been months. Ever since Harry came back and stole all your time,” she joked. 

Alena’s smile dimmed a little at the mention of her brother and just how much of her time he used to occupy. She hadn’t noticed it until after he’d swiftly exited her life just how reliant on his company she’d become. She was quite cranky at herself for allowing him to weasel his way into taking up all her free time again. The first week he hadn’t called, all Alena had done was sit in front of the telly and try to fill the empty Harry shaped hole in her life with reruns and food. Eventually she’d snapped herself out of it. Now she wondered if there were others who had fallen for the charm and dazzle that was all Harry the way she had, and been left just as high and dry with an aching heart that refused to give up on him. 

She wondered if Olivia Wilde would be the same. 

“Sorry,” she apologised to Gemma. “I don’t know how it happened. I missed you guys too.” 

“It’s not your fault. Harry does it to everyone. He did it when you guys were kids as well,” she rolled her eyes. “The two of you always used to be off in your own little bubble. We’d have to beat it with a stick to get it to pop until you paid the rest of us some attention,” she joked. But Alena still felt bad. 

“He’s just got that thing about him,” she eventually sighed, shoulders dipping in disappointment as the nostalgia of childhood friendships and how easy everything had been back then hit her like a truck. 

“Forget about him,” Gemma said gently, coming up beside Alena and nudging her shoulder. “He may be my brother but he’s not worth wallowing over when he’s being this unreasonable.” 

“That’s easier said than done when his face is literally everywhere, smiling and laughing as though this huge life changing event isn’t going to impact him at all,” Alena grumbled bitterly. 

“Ah. So you’ve seen the pictures already,” Gemma said sheepishly. “Mum and I were hoping I could get to you in time before you saw anything,” she admitted. 

“So this isn’t a social call because you miss spending time with me?” Alena tried to joke. 

“Why can’t it be both?” Gemma grinned back, linking their arms and pulling her further into the apartment. “Come on, get changed. Let’s go shopping and then grab some lunch. I can’t wait to spoil my niece-slash-nephew.” 

Alena groaned. “Please, no. I can't even look at baby things right now. I was looking up a list of things to get and there’s so much,” she looked at Gemma with wide eyes. “Why are there so many different types of prams, Gem? What do they all do? What if I get the wrong one?” 

Gemma laughed. “Don’t worry, you’ve got mum and I around. We’ll help pick things out for the little nugget. I’m pretty sure I saw mum looking up bassinets the other day,” she admitted. “And I won’t lie, I’ve started going to the baby section in some stores. I haven’t bought anything yet though,” she promised, sitting on Alena’s bed while she changed. 

It didn’t take Alena long to throw on an old sweatshirt and some jeans before the two girls were heading out the door, a sense of peace and comfort settling over Alena’s heart, soothing the aching wound Harry had left. 

She was so distracted and happy, wrapping herself and Gemma in a protective bubble of bliss as they walked from store to store buying too many clothes and things they didn’t need, that she didn’t even notice the random flashes of light as people took their photos while they talked and laughed. 

And so when she got home that day after promising Gemma that she’d come by for lunch with her and Anne in a couple of days, and saw her phone light up with a Twitter notification of a ‘Styles sighting’, she ignored it. She wasn’t going to let anything Harry related ruin the rest of her night. 

-

“Stay away from my family,” Harry glared at her from the doorway. When Alena had opened her front door she’d been expecting a teenager with a pizza box in his hands, not Harry. So when she’d looked up from where she’d been tracking her food on her phone, she’d frozen in shock, unable to get a single word out. 

Not that it mattered, Harry seemed to be there to deliver a message and move on. 

Alena blinked up at him, unsure how to respond. 

“Did you hear me?” he huffed. “Stay away from my mum and sister.” 

“I didn’t contact them,” she eventually managed to say, her hands coming up and wrapping protectively around herself. 

Harry’s eyes instinctively looked down at the movement, his gaze lingering for a moment on her stomach. She was just over three months pregnant now and still not showing, but Harry’s frown still made her feel self conscious. 

“You’ve lost weight,” he commented, his voice losing a little of its edge and his eyes losing a little of their ice. But he quickly shook himself out of it and fixed a glare back on his face, bringing the conversation back to the reason why he was there. “I don’t care who contacted whom. Just stay away from them,” he repeated. “Or I’ll take out a restraining order,” he added, almost as an afterthought. 

Alena flinched back, her eyes widening in disbelief and anger. 

She felt her heart pick up its pace and her cheeks heat up. She didn’t care who he was or how much he thought she had wronged him, he had no right threatening her with something like that.

He seemed to realise it too, his face crumpling in apology almost as soon as he had said the words. But it was too late to take them back and Alena was too angry in that moment to give him a chance to do so anyway. 

If she took a moment to think about it, took a moment to just analyse the situation a little bit, she would have picked up on the strange back and forth Harry seemed to be having internally. As though he was saying and doing all the things that were expected of him, while a long ago locked up part of his heart warred with him to be kind. 

“I don’t care who you think you are, Harry,” she spoke stiffly. “But you have no right coming to my door and threatening me with something like that. I never, not once, reached out to Anne or Gemma out of respect for you. They came to me. I don’t care what you see online, you should know better than to believe everything.” 

She moved to close the door, but Harry stuck a foot out before she could slam it in his face. 

“If you think you can trick me into a relationship by charming my mum and sister-”

But Alena cut him off. “Fuck you, Harry Styles,” she said, anger rolling off her in waves. She had never been so hurt and so mad at someone all at the same time. “Fuck you for thinking so low of me. God, you-,” she shook her head, trying to fight back the sudden onslaught of tears that were clogging up her throat. “I can’t believe I wasted a single second of my life loving you,” she laughed bitterly, her heart yelling at her that she still loved him. “You know, I’ve had my heart broken before. By old boyfriends, by friends, even by you. I never gave any of them a second shot at breaking me again. Except for you. I let you break my heart on so many occasions, I was an idiot for letting you do it again. Please,” she begged desperately, tired of feeling on edge and of all the heartbreak Harry brought with him. “Please, just leave me alone. It’s something you’ve been very good at for the last few months, I’m sure you can do it again. But you can’t ask me to have no one, to stay away from the two people who have cared about me. Anne and Gemma have always been my family as well, even if you no longer are. You took my love, trust and friendship and threw it all away like it meant nothing to you. I won’t let you take them away from me too,” she said fiercely. 

She waited until Harry took a step back, then closed the door, making sure to lock it behind her. 

She ignored it when he knocked and called for her again, more gently this time. But Alena was done. She wasn’t going to tiptoe around Harry anymore to spare his feelings when he had zero regard for her own. 

-

Thoughts are always appreciated <3

[bakugoushotwife]

kinktober day twenty-three: toys

>>> i’ll probably get little to no interaction on my lady pieces but fuck y’all i love them and nobara could DOMINATE ME

>>> starring: kugisaki nobara x curvy!f!reader >>>cw: sleepover conversion moment because i’m nasty, dom!nobara, fingering, nipple play, toy usage, strap, butt plug, vibrator, nipple clamps, overstimulation. >>> wc: 3.4k >>> event masterlist

your monthly sleepover with nobara was a sacred ritual of friendship, one that started due to your borderline bizarre attachedness to each other since the moment you met in high school. of course back then, you two were inseparable—and sleepovers were more of a nightly occurrence than a monthly one. oh but how time changes things. you both stay so busy these days that it’s a miracle you get her to yourself even one weeknd out of the month.

you prep for the occasion like it’s a dick appointment—not that you’ve had one of those in quite some time, nor do you miss them. kugisaki’s attention was enough for you, your best friend knew how to make you feel loved and appreciated far better than any man could at this point anyway. regardless of how often you saw each other, she was always in your phone. she made sure you woke up to good morning messages and wished you the sweetest of dreams every night. sure, they were a little flirty in nature, but that’s just how girls are. all the times she’s jokingly asked for nudes or made sexual innuendos are just her ways of making you feel beautiful and wanted. she didn’t mean a thing, you were sure of it.

but irregardless, you wax your legs and schedule your lash appointments around your visits to nobara. it’s no different this time as you scramble around your apartment to find the perfect set of pajamas to wear over. you decide on a red silky set, hoping that it complimented your freshly cleaned skin. it does more than that, the strappy crop top basically sticks to your chest, v-cut and plunging to give a great peek at your tits. the shorts are just as slutty, like a second layer of skin to highlight the mounds of your ass, the fabric occasionally rode up your thighs to nestle into your fat pussy.

all of this was painfully clear to kugisaki once you arrived. you had to be doing this on purpose, and she was getting sick of it. how many hints does a girl have to drop? she’s been flirting with you mercilessly for years, and tonight may be the night she breaks—you seem to be making sure of it. nobara all but pulls you into her house before the neighbors start lining the streets to gawk at you.

“hey girl!!” you smile warmly at her, setting your overnight bag on the couch. she’s practically scowling when she meets your eyes, though that chipper happiness in them makes it hard for her to be mad at you.

“hey hottie, missed you.” she greets, throwing her arms around you to cover up any aggravation you may have noticed. you of course melt into her without any protests, enjoying her floral scent and the feeling of her hair brushing up against your cheek. she’s focused on the feeling of your loose tits smashing up against hers, and she swears your nipples harden.

“ugh, missed you!” you sigh out once she starts rubbing her warm hands over the exposed skin on your back, pouting when she pulls away. she doesn’t give you time to be sad long, letting her hand fall down your arm to grab your hand, smiling softly as she leads you to the couch. love island is already queued on the tv, and kugisaki is ever so thoughtful—snacks and drinks wait for you on the table. “i think we should have these sleepovers every other week instead—this is getting unbearable!”

she laughs her agreement and lets the show play in the background, sighing that she only gets to see you once a month. “i wishhhh. when are you gonna quit your job and let me support us both?”

you roll your eyes, though the idea of dropping everything and staying here is hardly a bad one. “tch, whenever you’re serious about the offer.” you lean up and snatch a bag of chips, feeling her eyes track you the whole way.

“i’m never not serious! do you even know me?” she huffs, unashamedly checking out your rack. “i may tell a joke babe, but i never tell a lie.” she swears, hand over her heart. you can feel heat creep up your neck from the way she looks at you, and you have to consciously think about watching the show instead of her smirking lips. you’d be lying if you said you’d never considered going gay for your best friend—a proud and out lesbian—but you always felt bad for assuming she was into you. just because she was gay doesn’t mean she likes all girls—and based on her previous girlfriends, you certainly weren’t her type.

but the idea comes to the forefront of your mind at the worst time possible. you think about what it might be like to kiss her—just an innocent kiss. she was always biting at her pouty bottom lip, and they were so pink and cute that it had to feel nice. the dating show fades into the background as nobara pulls you into her chest. she basically moves you into her lap, and the movement isn’t necessarily foreign, but in this moment—you wish you could be anywhere else. your face lands on her chest, and your cheeks burn. you’re nervous she can read your thoughts—the ones that take a turn for the filthy once she parts her legs so that you can lay more comfortably and her fingers find your hair to massage your scalp. it would be so easy to push the fabric of her shirt up and attach your lips to one of them. you can’t help but imagine how that would feel, they soft pillows under your head only entice you further, her ministrations against your scalp make your pussy flutter, and your cheeks burn.

you know she’s experienced. she’s told you stories about some of her encounters, and just like now you worked extra hard to ignore the bubbling warmth in your stomach. you know your best friend loves eating pussy, loves fingering, loves using her extensive collection of nipple clamps and vibrators and straps on her victims—and right now you craved to be one of them. thinking about those pouty lips puckered around your pussy had you squirming, reaching for the couch pillow to hold between your legs with a prayer that it would relieve the ache.

kugisaki isn’t stupid. she can feel your hips moving and circling in her lap, the light sheen of sweat coating your neck and your shoulder blades and as far as the eye could see. she’s grinning devilishly as you grab the pillow and put it where she knows you need her. she shifts a little under you, wrapping one arm around your back to sit her fingers to tapping at your hip bone, the other resting under your tits like a shelf. you only squirm against the pillow quicker, with less precaution. your shame quickly decreases as your need skyrockets, her thumb swiping the underside of your boob. you chew on your bottom lip, adjusting to lay on your back. it moves her stubborn hand closer to your cunt while shifting your breast into her other palm—your needy body moving faster than your brain.

you moan softly as she squeezes the soft mound, her giggle reminding you that this was no fantasy you’ve conjured to get off on her couch pillow; no, you really moaned aloud during love island—and now she’s laughing at you.

“kugi—“ you move to sit up, you have to explain yourself. but what would you say? the truth was just as embarrassing as your pathetic moan. she squeezes your tit again, her other hand moving to cup your warm middle over your shorts.

“what is it, pretty girl?” she asks, her voice dripping with saccharine honey. any protests die in your throat as her fingers find your nipple, circling it through the silky material clinging to your chest. “you have no idea how long i’ve been waiting on you.” she borderline snarls, pinching your now pebbled bud.

your eyes widen at her words, a jolt of pleasurable pain shooting through you as she toys with your chest. “i…i’ve thought about you for a while now..i want to..” you struggle to find the right words as she peels your shirt up, soft fingers rolling your tender nipples between them in a mocking way.

“wanna let me show you a real good time?” she hums, all too aware of your experiences too. her poor little bestie hasn’t cum at another’s hands in years. “you’ll cum, maybe too much.” she laughs, chest rumbling beneath you.

you nod at her suggestion instantly, relieved she said it for you. she moves her other hand to join the one groping at you, massaging your tits as you laid with your back to her chest. she presses every button, tweaking your nipples so deliciously you think she may make you cum just from her expertise—no pussy touching needed. but she’s a generous partner, and she’s been crafting her own fantasies of making a lesbian out of you for far too long. that combination means your days without cumming are over, even if you’re already a whining mess in her lap just from her fingers on your tits.

“i got so many toys you’re just gonna love, pretty baby.” she hums, the recorded episode on the tv fading to black as it ends—mindless late night talk shows taking the place as the background soundtrack. she kisses the top of your head, biting her lip to repress her eager giggles. “there’s a box under my bed. go get it for me. and take that flimsy lil top off, girl.”

you nod, deep under her control with little effort. you get to your feet, noting how your legs feel like they may give out from under you as you walk through kugisaki’s spacious home. you reach for your shirt, dropping the fabric on her bed. you locate the box and gulp at the contents: nipple clamps, various dildos and straps, vibrators and whips—nobara really was a kinky bitch. she’s naked when you come back, giving you a proud smile for following orders. “good bunny. c’mere!!” she squeals, patting the couch.

you’re too busy gawking at her—lean with a soft figure, the ripples of her years spent training as a sorcerer lurking beneath. she tucked some of her cropped auburn hair back behind her ear, her glimmering brown eyes and intoxicating smile almost as addictive as her gorgeous tits and the perfect ass she perched on. you swallow thickly, bringing the box—and yourself—over to the couch. she takes it out of your hands and pilfers through the contents for a headband with bunny ears attached. she extends them out for you with a smile.

“oh yeah, put these bad boys on.” she grins with determination, swinging her legs beneath her to put the accessory on you. “so cute. have a bunny butt plug to match.” she sang as if this was a normal trip to starbucks, grabbing your hands. she tugs you to the couch, gnawing on her lip as she admires your voluptuous rack. “you really are so hot. i’m gonna rock your world, bitch.” she smirks, guiding you to lay against her like before.

you adjust the headband, feeling your cheeks burn. you want her to do just that, and you know she’s capable of it, so your pussy throbs with need as you recline against her body. you’re already breathing heavy from the feeling of her tits pressed to your back—your own nipples hardening almost painfully. she giggles at your excitement and nerves, though she has her fair share of her own. one of her slender hands tilts your jaw toward her face, and your nerves disappear. she still is your best friend after all, and you trust her. “do you like being my pretty bunny?” she asked, looking up at the pink ears perched atop your head.

you nod, “mhm. do you like it?” you ask, and she nods vigorously, twirling some of your hair around her fingers.

“love it. you look so good.” she hums, tracing over your lips with one elegant finger. you nod in soft satisfaction, parting your lips to speak, but nobara silences you with a soft kiss. she’s warm and soft—you like how she moves her hands down to play with your perky nipples again, moaning into the kiss for a deeper connection. it’s not long before you’re moving your hips again, humping your shorts for any kind of relief. she licks at your bottom lip, squeezing and rolling your buds as her tongue makes its way in your mouth and cool metal squeezes down on your sensitive nipples. you gasp, only letting her tongue in further, the weighty sensation of the clasps basically making your pussy a waterfall. you arch off of her and into her all at the same time, the kiss turns sloppier the needier you get, and finally her fingers trail down your abdomen and under the band of your shorts. her hips move against your ass—she’s just too excited to keep still herself, especially as her digits feel out the mess you’ve made of your pajamas.

“ohhh good bunny—someone’s excited.” she hummed, tapping your clit with her soaked fingers. your legs jump a little at the pleasurable sensation. she continues swiping at your clit, a proud smirk on her face at your little mewls. “gonna let me take care of you?”

you nod, humping her hand fervently. she knows just what pace to use, exactly how to press and slide her digits just where you need her. her other arm rests across your chest, if you bucked too wildly you’d wiggle yourself into a headlock. you can’t help but squirm though, feeling that rubber band pull taut in your gut. “gonna cum kugi, it feels so good.”

she rubs your clit faster, loving the way you arch and writhe and make your nipple clamps tighten so beautifully she’ll have you cumming all night. she pulls some hair away from your ear to whisper in your ear, “go ahead bunny. wanna see what my bestie looks like all fucked out.”

you clench down around nothing, feeling your gut burn and your legs shake.

“aghhh—oh my god~” you whine, panting a little as she works you down from your peak. even her slow circles have your gut jumping, and that’s before kugisaki drew her fingers to her lips and sucked your taste off of them. you bite your lip at the lewd action, turning in her lap to give back some of the pleasure she’s been giving you. it was part of your fantasy already, so why not latch your lip around her rosy nipple, sucking on it til it hardens on your tongue? especially when she makes such a lovely face, eyes closing and lips parting in angelic fashion. her moans are so sweet too, low toned and loud in volume. her fingers scrape at your scalp and she gives you a satisfied little grin.

“mm, your mouth is so warm, bunny.” she sighs happily, raking her fingers through your hair as you swap to her neglected mound. you moan softly at the feeling of her breast in your mouth combined with the feeling of her knee notching under your cunt—the wetness sliding all over her skin. you gasp softly, and she takes the opportunity to regain some control. she lifts you up to slide out from under you, you land lying flat on the couch. you hear the colliding of all the toys in her box, wondering which ones she would pick for you next. “can i use all your holes, bestie?”

you nod, spreading your legs even wider as she sits at the other end of the couch between them. she shows you what she wants to use, holding up what could only be the matching bunny butt plug she was referring to earlier, and a cute little clit sucking rose vibe. “course imma get ‘em ready for you. you’re gonna feel so good.”

she turns the vibrator on, giggling up at you as she puts it over your puffy and sensitive clit. your head falls back along the arm of the couch at the intense suction, you almost don’t feel her gather your cum and glide her fingers over your puckered asshole. she spits on it to add more lubrication, tentatively sliding her finger through the tight ring of muscles. your eyes grow three sizes at the pressure combined with the sucking of her toy. your moans are restless as she curls and moves her finger in your ass, adding a second one so that you could accommodate the cute fluffy pink bunny tail she bought with you in mind. you clench around her digits but she scissors your hole open, humming softly. “oh good. my bunny’s all stretched out.”

she spits on the tip of the toy to ease your discomfort, sliding the cute little plug in your ass with a proud smile. the rose toy keeps abusing your clit, and she dips her fingers into your cunt to curl against your spongy insides—finding your spot instantly. the stretch and burn of your hole combined with the attacks on your clit and kugisaki’s perfect fingers has you screaming and grabbing at her hair. you hurtle towards the end way quicker than last time, the burn of too much too quickly dizzying your brain. you can only call her name, vision going black as you cum all over her fingers yet again. you legs clench and shiver, your moans guttural and loud—you were thankful you weren’t at your apartment. you’re gripping the back of the couch with one hand, looking up at her in a daze. she’s drawn two orgasms out of you which is a borderline foreign feeling all on its own, but now she slides a black harness around her hips, attaching a thick and long dildo to its base.

“aw, want one more from you. gotta let me use my dick on ya!” she pouts, absolutely eating up your disheveled appearance. you nod, feeling the cool silicone tip of it gliding between your lips thanks to your messy cunt. “wanna hear you say it. say ‘fuck me please, kugisaki.’” she cooed, letting the tip of the pink dick nudge against your sensitive clit.

“oh fuck—yes, please. i want you to fuck me please, kugisaki. please, god this feels so good—so fuckin—“ you babble mindlessly, too far gone to think clearly. she shoves her cock in your tiny little hole to shut you up—that was her favorite part. you take a sharp breath as she leans over you, her cock burning through your gut like a hot knife. you clutch at the back of your legs so you can see her drive in and out of you, her tits jumping with her force. she’s taking you all in, the way you grip around her toy is so cute she may cum just from watching you—though she definitely plans on teaching you how to return the favor.

“my pretty bunny…like getting your holes stretched, cutie? is this all you dreamed of and more?” she grins, pushing in and out, silicone hitting your spot of need each and every thrust. you nod relentlessly, pawing at her hips. every roll knocks the plug a little deeper against your insides, and you know this orgasm will be different than the ones she already earned.

“yes! yes, kugisaki—gonna squirt—“ you whine, and she laughs manically, nodding and adding her fingers to your abused bundle.

“ooh that’s a girl, soak me then.” she giggles, making it a point to fuck you as roughly as possible. you wail out, tipping over the edge with such a violent burn in your gut that you know it’s too much. kugisaki nearly squeals with glee as you gush clear liquid all over her stomach and thighs, soaking her expensive couch. she rocks her hips into yours gently, milking out your high with shared heavy breaths.

you’re on a different planet, too dizzy and fucked out to feel anything but the mind-numbing pleasure still shocking through your veins. you hear the clinking of her strap hitting the ground, and you can tell she’s trying to clean you up, which makes you smile softly even in your half-conscious state.

she leans over to kiss your forehead, mumbling praises and compliments to your body.

“rest up bunny. gonna teach you how to eat pussy next.” she cooed, kissing your lips this time.

you give her a half grin, “mkay kugi. i wanna put these clamps on you though, bitch. i get toys too!” you giggle—and the sound makes her laugh with you as she puts the ignored episode of love island back on, patting your cunt.

“yeah? we’ll see what you got, little pervert.”

[mosaickiwi]

Someone In Between; Something Intertwined

Your babyboi Rendacted (from @14dayswithyou) struggles to be himself in your new-ish relationship. Gender neutral reader c:

14 Days With You is an 18+ Yandere Visual Novel. MINORS DNI

You haphazardly pushed a cart full of returned books across the library. It'd been such a long day. Elanor had called in sick, so on top of desk duty, both the morning and afternoon story times fell on you. The kids were well behaved—as well behaved as elementary schoolers could be, anyway—but by the time it finished you were at your limit. The only solace was that today was Friday, so you had the whole weekend to spend at your boyfriend's apartment. A smile bloomed on your face and you couldn't help but push the cart a little faster as you thought about them, surely waiting outside already. 

Ren, your tall, clingy, dark-haired-at-the-roots boyfriend. It'd been 5 months since you officially started dating, and 4 months since he'd been convinced to let go of the Haruko persona. It was agonizingly slow progress, you still didn't know him well—he came off a bit neutral sometimes, unsure how to act around you before reverting to Haruko or a blank slate to mirror you. But you were happy that small parts of the real him managed to peek through over the months, no matter how much time it took. And it was taking a long time.

As you opened the overflow room, you checked the clock on the wall. It was barely 4 minutes until the end of your shift. The cart bumped over the threshold when you pushed it in and locked the door. Once that was taken care of, you did a quick look over the computer and study areas, picking up scrap papers and trash to put in the bin before heading to the break room, then your desk to grab all your things. 

You took a peek in Conan's office to bid him goodbye. "I'll see you next week! Enjoy your weekend," you said with a cheery voice and walked towards the entrance.

"You too!" he called after you. 

The doors flew open and you practically skipped with relief out into the cool autumn air. You spotted Ren leaning against the brick of the building, dressed in their now-usual style of black on black on more black. His hair was partially tied up in a ponytail, most of it still a pastel pink that fell over his shoulders. From the low collar on his shirt, you could see he'd covered his tattoos with makeup, but a few of his piercings were in. He was trying, and that meant so much to you. His ocean blue eyes were focused on the phone in his hand, so he didn't notice you at first.

"Ren!" You sang out their name and bounced over to them. 

He looked up in surprise before quickly smiling. "I was just texting you," he said and put his phone in his pocket. "Hey, Angel."

"Hiiii," you said as you grabbed his hand, taking gleeful notice of the light blush forming on his cheeks as your fingers laced together. At first you used to think it was only his Haruko persona when he blushed at any contact—but it turned out they really liked holding hands. It was the first thing you learned to keep in mind about the real him. So you made sure to do it as often as possible. "Sorry to keep you waiting."

"It's only 5:01."

"And I'm sure you got here much earlier," you teased him, earning his embarrassed agreement when he flushed a deeper pink.

"Just 20 minutes," Ren mumbled and changed the subject. "Did y'want to stop anywhere? We don't have to go straight to my apartment."

"Nope! Work's got me feeling lazy. I'm all yours for the rest of the night." With that, you stood on your toes to kiss his cheek. 

He kissed you back on the lips, his snake bites catching the light as he smiled. He didn't even try to hide how happy he was. "Good."

~

An hour later, you were sitting on his couch eating pizza, a horror movie on low in the background while you chatted. You'd gotten half the pizza with your favorite toppings and—with a lot of stubborn encouragement on your part—Ren had gotten what were supposed to be his favorites. There was some overlap with a few of them, but he swore up and down they were things he liked. 

"L-Lots of people like pepperoni," he insisted. "You can't be suspicious of that one. It's basic."

"You got more than pepperoni to be suspicious about. But, true. I'll allow it," you conceded and munched away at the last of your pizza slice.

"Besides, I'm not that picky about food."

You swallowed, thinking about the age old debate about pizza toppings. "Pineapple on pizza?" Right on cue, the next victim in the movie shrieked in bloody terror.

"I'd eat it," he said after a moment of thought.

"Oh. Anchovies?" The screams continued.

He was a little more confident on this one. "Yup." 

"What about the really weird toppings?" you asked. You inwardly grimaced as you vaguely remembered a weird picture Moth had sent.. "Like… corn and chocolate?" 

Ren made a face between confused and disgusted. "Together? On pizza? People eat that?"

"Maybe. Probably," you said and shrugged. You grabbed a napkin from the coffee table and wiped your hands, then stood to throw away your paper plate. "People eat plenty of weirder things."

He paused the movie and quickly followed you into the kitchen with his own plate; he'd finished eating a little bit before you. As he trailed you to the trash can, then the sink, he spoke honestly, "It sounds really… out there. I don't think I'd eat it."

"Hmm," you said as you pumped the soap dispenser. You weren't sure if his answer would change if you said you'd eat it—not that you would, ew—but it was nice for him to voice his own opinions without trying to hear yours first.

You felt him trap you against the counter and rest his chin on your head. His arms came around you, but he only began washing his own hands as you were doing. It was an oddly comforting position.

An easy silence fell over the two of you, only broken by the rush of water from the tap. Eventually, the water stopped and he grabbed a paper towel, quickly drying his hands. You expected him to move, but instead he grabbed another towel and started drying your hands for you. He seemed content, even humming quietly to himself. So you simply watched. His rough fingers were steady as he delicately went over every inch of your hands until they were completely dry. He wasn't even half as thorough with himself; it was cute.

"You're really touchy," you innocently blurted out.

Ren suddenly let go, as if he'd been burned. "S-Sorry, Angel. I should've asked—" He quickly backed off, putting distance between you two and fiddling with his sleeves.

You realized your mistake and turned around, shaking your head in apology. Without the persona as a barrier, he was more on edge about your reactions sometimes. "I didn't mean it in a bad way. Here—hand, please," you demanded and held out your own to him. He cautiously took it and you smiled, closing the space to pull him into a hug. "See? No harm done. Touchy is good. Wonderful, even."

Despite the blush on his face, he seemed relieved. "Really?"

"Almost as wonderful as corn and chocolate pizza," you teased.

He laughed for a moment before squeezing you against his chest. "There's no way you'd actually eat that," he mumbled above you and got even quieter. "I'm so sorry, Angel. 'M afraid you'll push me away one day."

His arms felt so nice wrapped around you, but his words broke your heart. "I'd never do that. I care about you, Ren. Okay?" you whispered into his shirt. Your fingers curled tightly into the fabric and you pressed on. "Not Haruko, not anyone else." His real name slipped out in a quiet whisper. "You."

A rather stressful sigh left him and he started rambling, "I'm trying my best. And I get what you mean, but it's hard t’believe you'd want me as I am. I'm less than perfect for you. Why would you want that?"

"I don't need or want 'perfect' like I'm a test you studied for," you huffed in frustration and looked up at them, shocked to find hurt and loneliness in their gaze. "I'm not mad at you!" you immediately sought to reassure him. "But I want to accept you like you've accepted me, warts and all. I'm not perfect either."

"Except that you are per—" he opened his mouth to protest, but the way your eyes narrowed had him choosing his final word carefully. "Are… person?" He pulled away to fiddle with the hem of his sleeve. "I just can’t trust you’d like me when I haven’t been myself that often. You don’t know me that well.” His bangs covered his eyes as he lowered his head and looked away.

“I like the parts I’ve seen,” you stubbornly declared and crossed your arms, rapidly firing off the list you kept in your head. “You sleep like a corpse, you’re a tease and a flirt—even worse in bed. You won’t give anyone the time of day but me, you like your coffee black but somehow have a ridiculous sweet tooth.”

“Angel.” They tried to get your attention, but you didn’t hear them. 

“Little things make you happy even though you’re a pessimist, a drama queen when you want to get your way, a smug, petty brat on top of that, a total fucking geek if I’m being honest—sometimes you get really excited and babble about tech I don’t understand—and the very first thing I learned—”

“Angel,” he interrupted a little louder with a touch on your shoulder and you snapped out of it. Gentle as could be, he pried your fingers away from your arm. You didn’t realize you were practically digging your nails into your skin from how riled up you were. “Okay,” he continued in a low voice, a tinge of awkwardness to it. “You know me, in some ways.”

You smiled up at him, just as self-conscious about your momentary rant. “You really, really like holding hands, too,” you quietly pointed out and wiggled your fingers in his grip. He hadn’t let go, not that you wanted him to.

“I didn’t think there was so much of me—the real me—that you cared enough to notice,” he said, idly tracing over your fingertips. The gentle touch comforted you.

“It’s all important to me. And it made me so excited when I could see those little parts of you," you admitted with a nervous laugh. “This is embarrassing, but I'd try to write down all the things I'd learn when I got home so I wouldn’t forget. But then I’d scribble and tear up the papers—I’d think to myself like ‘that’s creepy, stop it you weirdo.’ Isn’t it though? Taking notes on someone is a bit much.”

Ren seemed to piece something together in his mind before answering confidently, “Not at all, in fact it’s really cute. Who's studying for who, here?”

Heat flushed your cheeks and you blew out a silent breath from pursed lips. “I wasn’t studying. I was happy that you were being yourself! There are so many quirks or habits you don't realize that just make me fall more in… love… with you…?” You trailed off, eyes widening in tandem with theirs as you both processed what you'd just said.

The confused look on his face had you positive that his brain was malfunctioning. At least yours certainly was. “Ah—In love? Like you love me?” he asked in disbelief and repeated himself. "You love me?"

You nodded robotically, wanting to melt into the marble floor. You did love him. And all the little pieces that shined through the cracks in his act. You loved getting to know him, good and bad, bratty or sweet. Confessing to note taking already had you flustered, yet here you were, continuing to run your mouth and put it all out there. “Yeah... I love you,” you managed to say in spite of yourself.

He lifted you off the ground by your waist, drawing a weird squeaking noise you had surely never made before out of you. He didn't seem bothered as he sat you down on the counter and tenderly kissed your forehead. “I love you, Angel. More than anything,” he breathed out against your skin then pulled back. “I really love you.” His hand brushed stray hairs away from your face before he was cupping your cheek, staring at you for a long while with a shamelessly adoring smile. 

Sirens started blaring in your head the longer nothing happened, so you quietly asked, “Can you kiss me before more embarrassing stuff comes out my mouth?”

“Ahh, um, I’m kind of—overstimulated? Overwhelmed? I never thought I'd hear y'say you love me," he confessed with giddiness. "I can’t decide between teasing you or crying from happiness."

“If you tease me right now I’m going to be the one crying."

That got him to choose. Not a moment sooner, he finally kissed you. The sirens in your head quieted down, only to be replaced by butterflies in your stomach as your eyes closed. He was just as affectionate as he always was, but you could tell he had trouble holding his emotions back from the way his hand gripped your thigh. There was a trembling excitement to the gentle kisses he gave. Ren was clearly on cloud nine. His lips drew a feather light trail from the corner of your mouth up to your ear, barely tickling you as he lingered.

“Angel,” he whispered softly as his thumb traced circles on your leg.

You tilted your head to look at him, feeling pure bliss from his affection. “Hmm?”

“Don’t tear up your study notes next time. ‘Wanna read ‘em.”

“Noo!"

[sapphic-coded]

I Swear That I Don't Have A Gun

You grew up in Ohio with your father, brother, and sister. Your family was small and strange. Because of that, you were picked on relentlessly at school. Until another weird kid showed up. Her family moved in across the street from you. It wasn't long until the two of you became friends. Your friendship became the light in your life. Until it ended suddenly. Rumors followed your friend's disappearance. Russian spies. You didn't see her again until you crossed paths at work.

Series Masterlist

Natasha Romanoff x fem Reader

Warnings: Violence. Reader is a messed up assassin and does a great job. Childhood trauma creeping around in the background. Flip phones. Minors DNI.

Word Count: 3.7k

Author's Note: Thank you for the constant love towards this fic. Here is chapter three! Let me know if you want to be added to the taglist. I will be on vacation this week so chapter four won't be up until the following week. Enjoy!

Taglist: @natsxwife @iliketozoneout @newawakening9 @natasha-1million @ilovemcuff

Chapter Three: Would You Like To Hear My Voice?

Mount Vernon, Ohio – 1992

The cafeteria was alive with the chorus of loud, excited conversations punctuated with occasional laughter. You sat at your usual seat at the far end of the long table as you opened up your lunch. Nat sat to your right peeling an orange. It had been a couple days since you two shared your first conversation together, and in that time you had already learned so much about each other. Talking to Nat in between lessons had changed nearly everything. You were no longer going through the motions. You no longer felt alone. School seemed to now go by at an alarming rate. It was no longer one, long monotonous chore. 

The first thing you pulled out of your brown paper bag was one of your father’s many flasks. You twisted off the cap and brought it to your nose. One quick sniff confirmed exactly what was in the flask. You had been hoping for water, but it was definitely whiskey. You screwed the cap back on and shoved the flash back into your bag. Then, you pulled out a plastic bag that contained two halves of cold, burnt toast. You could see the remains of the butter your father had spread across it. 

“You should probably stop letting your Dad pack your lunch,” Nat commented before she broke off a piece of her orange and handed it to you. 

You took the peeled orange slice. “My brother offered to take over, but my father finds it therapeutic.” You shrugged your shoulders and ate the orange slice. “Thanks.” 

Nat set her orange aside and reached into her lunch bag. She pulled out two peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. She handed one to you. “Here. My mom made this for you.” 

You took the offered sandwich. A thousand questions came crashing through your mind all at once, yet your mouth stayed shut. The sandwiches looked identical. Cut evenly down the middle. The weight of the sandwich felt almost bizarre in your hand. You were used to your father’s lunches whether it made sense or not. Whether it brought you joy or not. You don’t know what to say. A part of you was fixated on what Nat said. Her mom. 

You started to lift one half of your unexpected sandwich to your mouth but stopped. There were so many questions running through your mind. You needed to voice them. Yet all you managed to ask was, “Why?” 

Nat finished chewing an orange slice. “I told her about your lunches.”

She talked…about you? Usually such a discovery would light every nerve in your body. The excitement would be nearly unstoppable. You would feel warm and happy. But none of that happened. Instead, you couldn’t get past the image in your head. You were trying so hard to see it, but it eluded you. All you could imagine was Nat talking into a thick fog. You couldn’t imagine its response. Whether there would be joy or anger. Apparently, all that fog would produce were two identical sandwiches. 

“She was worried that you were hungry,” Nat said. 

You looked down at your sandwich. Even with that piece of information, you still didn’t understand. Why would a stranger be concerned about your potential hunger? 

“Oh,” you finally replied. You looked at Nat and smiled. “Thanks.” You took a bite of your sandwich, and your smile grew. You still felt a bit lost, but the taste of the peanut butter and jelly helped lure you out of your head. 

London – 2010

The motion sensor lights click on overhead as you push the gray cleaning cart down the short, wide hallway. The harsh odor of the cleaning agents assaults your nose, and the blue jumpsuit you wear is one size too big on you. The brown belt you wear is cinched tight around your waist. The footfalls of your black boots are quiet against the clean tiled floor. The hallway empties out into a large square room filled with rows upon rows of cubicles. Large glass windows along the perimeter of the room hold back the heavy dark of the night outside. 

Nearly all the cubicles are empty. Only a handful of the room’s lights are left on which allows thick shadows to stretch across corners. The sound of fingers typing against a keyboard draws your attention to the cubicle with the only employee left on this floor. You push the cart down a row of cubicles until you pass the only one currently occupied. Sitting at their desk, hunched over a laptop, is your target. 

Alan Wellman. Forty-six years old. A bit on the shorter side. Happily married with two kids. Slightly overweight. Balding. Brown eyes. An excellent coder. You push your cart past his cubicle and keep walking until you reach the end of the row. You let go of the cart and lift up your arms to pull your hair back into a messy bun. You listen to the rhythmic typing as you bend down and reach into a yellow bucket on the bottom shelf of the cart. Your fingers curl around the familiar weight of your Beretta. You pull out your gun with one hand while your other hand dips into the fantastically deep pocket of your borrowed jumpsuit. You withdraw your silencer and take your time attaching it over the barrel of your gun. Then, you carefully slide your gun into the largest pocket of your brown tool belt that hangs around your waist. 

You unroll a fresh, black garbage bag and turn towards the first empty cubicle on your right. You grab the waste bin within the cubicle and dump the contents into the larger garbage bag. You casually work your way down the row filling up the black garbage bag with all the accumulated paper coffee cups, snack wrappers, empty plastic sandwich bags, used tissues, and occasional paper documents that somehow did not make it into the recycling bin. All to the tune of Alan’s quick typing. 

The black garbage bag in your hand is heavy by the time you reach Alan’s cubicle. He pays you no mind and remains hunched over his laptop. You look down at his waste bin. It is full of empty chip bags. You reach down for the bin and dump its contents into your garbage bag. As you set the bin back down on the floor next to Alan’s desk, the typing stops. He leans back in his chair and stares at his computer screen. His hand comes up to cover his mouth as his eyes reread what is on his screen. His hand pulls at his face as it drops away. 

Then, Alan looks at you. 

You set the black garbage bag down. “Long day?” Your English accent is impeccable. 

A short smile crosses Alan’s face before he shakes his head. He looks over at his laptop again before looking back at you. “Can I ask you a question?” 

You shrug. “Sure.” 

“If…” he leans forward in his chair but stops. His mouth hangs open, and his hands lift slightly as if trying to grab the right words out of the air. “If you had the chance to undo all your past mistakes, would you take it?” 

You slide both your hands into the wonderfully deep pockets of your borrowed blue jumpsuit. “I’m afraid I’m not the right audience for that question, Mr…” You look down at the nameplate on Alan’s desk. “Wellman.” 

“No, please,” Alan nearly pleads. “I just need someone else’s opinion.”

You let out a breath as you look around at the empty rows of cubicles. Alan’s question settles in your mind. A chance to undo all your mistakes. That closet of skeletons is more like a pit, and it runs deep. Your gaze returns to Alan. “Well, my time in secondary school was pretty embarrassing so–”

“Not those kinds of mistakes,” Alan interrupts. “I mean big ones. The life changing ones. The mistakes where you…you hurt people.” 

“That’s impossible,” you reply. “You can’t undo hurt. If you hurt someone then you hurt them. It’s done. Nothing you do afterwards erases what you’ve already done.” 

“But what if it is possible?” Alan says. “That possibility exists, but it’s dangerous. Your whole life will change. Everything you’ve ever achieved will be gone. You’ll most likely end up with nothing. But their pain will be gone.” 

It’s definitely not possible. Your mistakes are coated in so much blood that any attempt at washing it away would be pointless. You would end up exhausting yourself over an unattainable goal. But it would be nice if such an opportunity could exist. It was a beautiful theory. So, you nod slightly. “Then I would run towards it and not look back.” 

Alan sits back in his chair and mulls over your answer before nodding to himself. He turns towards his laptop and presses the enter key. His shoulders visibly relax and his smile grows. “There.” He looks back over to you. “Thank you.” 

“You’re welcome,” you reply. 

Alan stands up and turns his back to you to peel his coat from the back of his chair. Your gun is in your hand by the time he turns back around to face you. Your finger squeezes the trigger once. Alan’s brown eyes widen in the bright white flash that comes from the barrel of your gun. The silencer mutes the crack of the gunshot, but the bullet finds its home squarely in Alan’s chest. He falls back into his chair, and the coat hanging around his arm drops to the ground. A bright red stain blossoms across his chest. His mouth opens, but he doesn’t say anything. Only fast, shaky breaths escape. 

You lower your gun and step closer. He’s staring at you with those wide brown eyes. The look he gives you is familiar. First, surprise. It always makes you smile when you see their surprised expressions. It reminds you of surprise parties. The ones you see on television or in movies. But then you see the fear creep in, and it doesn't remind you at all of surprise parties. You tilt your head slightly to the left as you watch Alan. You wonder what he’s thinking about. He’s staring at you, but you can tell that he doesn’t see you. Not anymore. You wonder if he’s envisioning that mythical chance at redemption. 

Then, his shaky breaths stop. He goes still and the fear leaks out of his eyes and leaves nothing but two empty, brown holes in its wake. 

The entire floor is quiet except for the buzzing of the lights overhead. You look away from Alan, and curiosity draws you over to his laptop. Based on Alan’s profession, you expect to see a bunch of weird coding symbols. Instead, you’re staring at his email inbox. A new email had just come through less than a minute ago. You open the email. It’s a response to an email Alan sent only two minutes ago. The message is short:

We will protect you and your family. Stay where you are. We will come to you.

You skim over Alan’s initial long email, but lose interest part way through. Your interest returns to the reply. A spark of excitement ignites within you as a tempting thought crosses your mind. You have no proof to support the exciting thought that sits at the forefront of your mind. You’re operating on a gut feeling, and a whole lot of hope. You hope the bland looking email address is a mask. You hope that this is exactly what you think it is. You dig out one of the burner phones you have on you and tuck it into the breast pocket of Alan’s stained shirt. Then, you leave. 

You don’t bother with the cleaning cart at the end of the row, or with the full garbage bag. You take off the borrowed blue jumpsuit revealing the black long sleeve shirt and dark blue denim jeans you are wearing underneath. You shove the jumpsuit into a trash bin you pass on your way out of the office building. You exit out into the back alley. You grab the backpack you stored beneath a dumpster and make your way around the office building. You cross the street and enter one of the hotels. You end up paying a bit more for a particular room, but you eventually end up in a hotel room with a clear view of the office building across the street. 

When you pull back the curtains, you don’t see anything of interest happening at the office building. You toss your backpack onto the bed and pull up a chair towards the window. You unzip your backpack and pull out a pair of binoculars, another burner phone, and a small bag of potato chips. By the time you turn off the lights in your hotel room, you spot two black SUVs parked out front of the office building. You snatch up your binoculars to first get a better look at the SUVs. Your heart begins to beat faster the moment you make out the dark gray SHIELD logo painted along the side of the car. 

Your gut feeling is right. Alan had been in communication with SHIELD. You lift your head a touch and refocus the binoculars until you have a near perfect view of the floor Alan had been working on. The large glass windows running the length of the building expose everything to you. You could see four men in black suits standing near Alan’s cubicle. You lower the binoculars and settle into the chair. You don’t know if she’ll show. Just because Alan was in contact with SHIELD doesn’t mean he had any connections to her. But you hope she does come. You can feel your hands shaking slightly in anticipation as you open your bag of potato chips. 

You watch the four black suits as you snack on your chips. Your excitement steadily drops as the black suits do little more than make phone calls, take pictures, and survey the scene. After fifteen minutes, most of your interest drops to your snack. You’ve already gone through most of the bag. You do remember passing a vending machine on your way up to your room. You should have some cash on you. 

A third black SUV pulls up in front of the office building. You see a flash of red before you can even pick up your binoculars. You can feel your heart pounding against your chest as you bring the binoculars to your eyes. A smile curls at your lips when you see her. Her red hair hangs freely down past her shoulders. She isn’t wearing her catsuit. Instead you notice a brown leather jacket and black jeans. You aren’t able to catch any other details as she disappears into the office building. 

You lower the binoculars from your face. The smile that blossomed the moment you saw her remains plastered across your face. She’s here. You let out a small laugh and sit back in the chair. You had spent a little over a whole week waiting for her to come find you. Waiting for her to show up on your doorstep. And now she’s right there. So close. You can feel your hands shaking slightly again as you glance at your other burner phone. 

You set your bag of chips aside and run your sweaty palms across your jeans. She’ll be on Alan’s floor any moment. You go over your plan carefully in your head. Last time you didn’t get to savor anything. Too busy with work. But that’s not the case tonight. Your job is done. Clean. Straightforward. Your father will be content and leave you alone. You can’t panic and rush tonight. You take a deep breath. 

When you see the flash of red again, you bring the binoculars back up to your eyes. You watch as she makes her way over to the four black suits. They part to let her see your work. She turns her back to you as she steps closer to Alan. It’s impossible to see her reaction completely from your spot in the hotel room. You bite your lower lip as you wonder what she thinks of your work. It’s definitely a neater job than Amsterdam. But would she think it’s too boring? Devoid of personality? Should you have done more to make it scream your handiwork? 

But then you run the risk of getting messy. Which leads to more father daughter talks. 

Her head turns and you can see her talking to one of the black suits. She gestures to the laptop. The black suit is quick to unplug it and take it away. You sit up straighter when you see her hand move towards Alan’s breast pocket. You pull the binoculars away from your face and quickly reach for your spare burner phone. You flip it open and quickly punch in the number for the phone you left with Alan. Before you hit the green button to make the call, you bring the binoculars back up to your face. She’s standing next to Alan holding the phone.   

Your finger presses down on the green call button and you quickly bring your phone to your ear. You know the moment the other phone starts ringing as her attention drops to the phone in her hand. The other black suits nearby stop what they are doing to look over at her. You wait as the phone continues to ring. You watch her step out of Alan’s cubicle. Your smile begins to falter as the phone still rings. Is she not going to answer it? What are you going to do if she doesn’t answer? You can’t risk going over there. But you also can’t risk letting her–

She flips open the phone and lifts it to her ear. 

“Hello?” 

Your faltering smile recovers instantly at the sound of her voice. “Hi.”

Her head lifts and looks around. “Y/N.”

You like hearing her say your name. It makes you feel all warm and happy inside. “Funny how we keep running into each other.”

“I wouldn’t call it funny,” she says before turning to gesture to one of the black suits. From your angle, you can’t see what the gesture means, but one of the black suits hurries over to another. 

“I think so,” you reply as you watch the black suit return to Nat. He holds something out to her that is so small you can’t see what it is. She takes it. “I don’t see you for years and then all of a sudden you show up twice in two weeks.” Whatever the black suit gave her, you watch as she attaches it to the back of the burner phone. “How are you feeling, by the way? My back was killing me for days after Amsterdam.” 

“Mine too,” she answers. “That wasn’t exactly our finest moment.” 

You laugh and you catch a hint of a smile flash across her face. Then it’s gone and she starts moving towards the large glass windows. 

“Where are you?” she asks.

“London,” you answer with a smirk. 

“Y/N, we need to talk.”

“We are talking.”

“Not like this,” she glances over her shoulder at the black suits now clustered together around something you can’t see. “We need to talk in person.” 

Your smile begins to drop. “Can’t do that.” Oh but you want to. That would be so much fun. “Besides, I can see you just fine.”

You see her pause and your smile returns. She looks out the window and first looks up and then down at the street below. She doesn’t spot you in your little, comfy perch. 

“You’ve done a great job putting yourself on SHIELD’s radar,” she says. 

You drop the binoculars and close your eyes. You groan and tilt your head back. “I don’t want to talk about work.” 

She sighs. “Fine. What do you want to talk about?” 

You open your eyes and stare up at the dark ceiling. “I just wanted to catch up. I was so busy in Amsterdam, but now I have some free time.” You lower your head to look out the window again. Without the binoculars you can still see her but without all the finer details. “But I don’t really know how these conversations are supposed to go. I’ve never…” You pause. You don’t like where that sentence would lead. “I’ve never had a friend come back from the dead before.”

“You thought I was dead?” 

You shrug. “Yes. It was more plausible than a Russian spy.” You pick up the binoculars and look through them again. She is looking over her shoulder towards the cluster of black suits again. “Are they close to tracking our call?”

“Almost.” Her attention returns to the window. Her eyes search the dark buildings across the street. “You can still just tell me where you are. We can meet up. It can be just us.” 

You shake your head. “I don’t think it can be just us, Nat.” You see one of the black suits wave to get Nat’s attention. She turns. “But it’s a nice thought.” 

She starts walking towards the cluster of black suits. “Why not? I thought you said you had some free time.” 

You can’t stop the smile that curls at your lips. The offer is so tempting. It would be so easy to just go to her. She’s right there. But it wouldn’t end like you want. “I missed you, Nat.” 

She stops. You set the binoculars aside and lean back in the chair. You close your eyes and linger in this moment. You wish you could stretch it out for hours. There’s so much to talk about. But your time is up, and the moment you hear her say your name, you end the call. Your fingers wrap around the burner phone and squeeze tightly. She can’t be a distraction. But she’s not. She was your whole world and now you just want pieces of that back. 

You leave the hotel and London with no one chasing after you. The bitter taste of disappointment returns. You need to see her again.

[thatgayb1tchwhosimps4her]

Request: Drunk Sam Carpenter that gets all soppy over her girlfriend and how pretty she is.

Whether it be head-cannons or a one shot, it's up to you, but I would love if you included some Spanish in it considering her and Tara are supposedly Latina's.

I loved how you wrote for Quinn so I know it'll be good.

Thank you so much for your kind words, I would love to write for Sam, and I'm so glad somebody else picked up on the possibility of her and Tara being Latina and I am so excited to share this fic.

Reader is mentioned to have blue eyes and be an animator. But feel free to change it in your minds however you want.

Also disclaimer, I used google translate for the translations so sorry if they're wrong.

*****

Never Too Drunk To Know I Love You

Sam Carpenter x Female Reader

Word Count: 2651.

*****

Both of you had decided against going to the Halloween party with the rest of the group, especially since Ghostface had come back, and you and some of the others had spent the last few weeks persuading Sam that Tara didn't need her older sister being her bodyguard all the time and didn't want to waste it by going with them.

Fortunately for Tara, Sam had a session with her counsellor and you needed to catch up on work for the project you were working on.

Although, somewhere through working on a new character, you had the inspired idea of having a date night with Sam once she came back from her session. Which she agreed would do you both some good since you never really got any alone time unless Sam went to yours (which was a rare occurrence since you basically lived with Sam and the others).

So you two pondered on what to do for a little while, until you decided on watching a movie. However, the two of you had ended up making out with Avengers Endgame playing in the background, neither of you really caring, since you were lucky if you were able to kiss with people around without Tara fake gagging in the background.

Which is how you'd ended up waking up in Sam's bed as you usually do, but instead of her waking you up by planting kisses all over your face to make sure she saw you before she went to work, you were woken up by the sound of your phone ringing. Once you'd sat up to pick up your phone, you noticed a note under it with Sam's handwriting on it, deciding to pick it up and read it.

'Gone to pick up some of the guys from the party.

Be back soon. Love you -Sam xxx'

"Hello?" You said, answering the call as you finished reading the note.

"Y/N, hey it's Tara. We need you to come pick us up." She asked on the other end of the phone.

"Wasn't Sam picking you up?" You questioned, thinking of what could've happened.

"Yeah she was, but now she's puking her guts up outside and I don't know," Tara said.

"Well is she okay? What happened?" You asked, slightly panicked, before putting your phone on speaker and placing it on the bed as you got up to but some trousers and socks on.

"I think so. She was late coming to get us, so I was gonna go hook up with this guy that was flirting with me, even though Mindy and Quinn and that said he was an asshole, but frankly I didn't care, and I don't know I think I fell and Chad punched the guy and then Sam appeared from nowhere and they were arguing and she tasered him, and then we all went outside and me and her were arguing and she was all like, 'if you want to go get shitfaced and hook up with a douchebag then be my guest' and then she just keeled over and started vomiting everywhere." She stated.

"Okay, we'll talk about it later. How late was she?" You said, zipping up the zipper on your trousers, before starting to make your way around the apartment to find your keys, shoes and jacket.

"I don't remember exactly, I mean most of tonight has been a blur of lights and alcohol and shouting. We were all chilling out on the couch and got bored so I texted her to come get us, and she replied saying that she's on her way, then I didn't see her for like half hour or so until she appeared out of nowhere." She answered.

"Okay, I'm on my way now. I'll be with you in like 10/15 minutes. Is everyone else okay and accounted for?" You asked, slipping your shoes on.

"Uh, yeah, Mindy and Anika went home about 10 minutes ago. But apart from them Ethan and Chad are trying to help Sam, Quinn's got her dad on standby and I'm calling you" She said.

"Okay, are you all good? You said earlier you fell." You reproached, chucking your jacket on and putting your keys in your pocket.

"I think so, I mean my head hurts and I feel a bit sick, but that could just be early onset hangover or from the music. Apart from that just scared." Tara said, trying to laugh it off.

"Okay, don't be scared I'm literally on my way now, I'll bring a bowl for you and Sam, and I'll check you both out when I get there." You stated, turning the all lights off except the hall one.

"Okay, that's a little reassuring." She stated.

"Okay, I'm coming now," You said, locking the front door, "Be there in 10." You added.

"Okay, see you then," Tara answered, "Bye."

"Bye." You said.

-----

While driving to go get them you kept trying to call Sam, her phone going to voicemail each time.

"Come on baby, pick up your phone." You mumbled to yourself, pressing the call button on her contact.

"Hey it's Sam, sorry I can't get to the phone, if your a friend, family or my girlfriend, let me know what you wanna tell me. If not feel free to leave your name and number after the beep and I'll see what I can do for you, bye BEEP."

"Son of a bitch, come on. Sam" You swore to yourself, running your fingers through your hair as you stopped at a red light.

Her phones probably dead, you thought to yourself and the light turned green again and you continued driving.

About 5 minutes later, you arrived outside the frat house where the party was taking place, to see a group of 3/4 girls shouting at Sam and the others.

"HEY! YEAH YOU MOTHER FUCKERS, HOW BOUT YOU LEAVE MY GIRL AND HER FRIENDS ALONE BEFORE YOU BECOME TOP OF MY KILL LIST!" You shouted at them, as you got out the car as they retreated down one of the many busy streets of New York. "YEAH YOU BETTER RUN, YOU BITCHES, BEFORE A REVITALISE YOUR FACES!" You added, before turning around to the group.

"Everyone okay?" You asked, walking over to Quinn and Ethan who were sat next to Tara on the steps of the house, handing her a bowl and rubbing her back a bit, before walking back over to Sam, who was leaned against the wall outside, and crouching next to her and Chad.

"Yeah we're all good, just some assholes trying to start shit with Sam." Tara answered.

"You should've been here a few minutes ago," Ethan stated, "The blonde one chucked a drink over Sam, Chad and Quinn were about to beat the shit out of them." He added.

"Not exactly beat the shit out of them on my part, but I was gonna speak some very choice words to them." Quinn stated.

"Well that explains why she reeks of booze, but thank you," You said. "Both of you." You added, turning to Chad.

"Right here's what's gonna happen," You spoke, "Chad, I need you to go to the trunk and pull one of the seats in the back up for Ethan, since he's the smallest., then help him into the back and get yourself in the middle seat to help me with Tara."

"Yes ma'am." Chad replied as Ethan followed, before you threw the car keys at him.

"Quinn, I need you to stay with Sam and make sure she's okay while I sort Tara out." You said.

"Got it." She answered, walking toward the two of you.

"I'll be right back." You stated to Sam.

"Ya shouldn't say that." Sam slurred, pointing at you.

"Yeah, I know, I'll be careful. Promise." You replied, blowing a kiss to her before walking over to Tara.

"How you feeling?" You asked her.

"Like shit." She answered, slurring a little bit.

"Yeah, that's to be expected," You said. "Can you tell me how many fingers I'm holding up?" You questioned, putting up 8 fingers.

"Mhmmmm, 8." She answered.

"Good, how about now." You said, putting up 3.

"Oh easy 3," She stated , "Man I wish my college tests were this simple."

"Okay one more, how many now." You asked, putting up 2 fingers on each hand."

"4, 2 on each hand." Tara answered.

"Good job, you'll be fine. But make sure you drink lots of water when we get back and have some pain killers." You stated.

"Okay." She replied.

"Can you get up?" You asked.

"Yep," She said, standing up with ease, stumbling slightly.

"Yeah okay, be careful," You replied, putting your right arm under hers, "Let's get you in the car." You added, leading her around the back of the car and opening the door, getting her strapped in on the left side of Chad, before shutting the door and walking back over to Sam.

"How are we getting on?" You questioned.

"Allllll gooddddd." Sam slurred, putting her thumbs up.

"She's fine," Quinn stated, "I mean she's stopped throwing up as much." The red head added.

"Okay," You replied, "Let's get you in the car." You said to Sam.

"Mkayy." Sam answered.

"C'mon then you." You said, slipping your arm around her, getting her to stand up, "Can you get the door for me?" You asked Quinn.

"Yeah got it." She said, walking over to open the car door facing the pavement.

"Alguna vez te he dicho lo hermosos que son tus ojos?" (Have I ever told you how beautiful your eyes are?) Sam stated in Spanish.

"Babe, I love you, I have no idea what you're saying." You replied to her.

"Tus ojos me recuerdan al océano, y son más hermosas que cualquier cosa que haya visto." (Your eyes remind me of the ocean, and are more beautiful than anything I've seen.) Sam added.

"Seriously Sam, I have no idea what the fuck you're saying." You laughed off.

"I fucking love you, you little shit." Sam slurred.

"Now that I understood, come on babe, let's get you in the car so we can go home." You said, walking to the car and getting into her into the car before shutting the door.

You got into the driver's seat, with Quinn sat next to you, and were about to start driving before you felt someone tug on your jacket. It was Sam trying to find your hand since it had disappeared in your sleeve. You pulled it out of it and let her do what she was doing. Once she'd found your hand, she held onto it as you started driving to your apartment, your heart melted slightly over how you'd never really seen this side of her, and secretly hoped you'd get to see it more often, without having her puke her guts up first.

You drove back to the apartment and made sure everyone got in safely, and got Tara into bed with a big glass of water and Chad to make sure she was okay, then gave Ethan a couple of pillows and a blanket along with some clothes Chad had lended him so he could sleep on the couch. After that, you helped Sam wash the alcohol smell off of her and get changed so Quinn could sort herself out and Sam could lay in bed for a bit and try to sleep.

After sorting everyone out, you went to the kitchen to get a glass of orange juice, before Quinn came out of her room and the two of you started talking.

"Sorry to put this all on you," You apologised to her, "I would've asked Tara but she's asleep so I'm just trying to understand what happened so everything can be sorted tomorrow"

"It's okay," She chuckled, "I think it's a blur for all of us. I saw Sam come into the party on the other end of the house when I went to find non-alcoholic drinks for us while we were waiting, and I gave her a nod which she acknowledged. Then I went to back to the group and she wasn't there so I thought I saw someone else, then Tara went off with this guy while the rest of us were trying to talk sense into her and then once Chad had punched the guy me, Mindy and Anika were making sure Tara was okay, and then we heard the man groan and we turned round and saw Sam standing over him with her taser in hand, so we put two and two together, and then everything else happened that Tara told you about." The red head explained.

"So basically everything that happened, except where she was is included in the story, and then she starts vomiting out of nowhere." You said.

"Pretty much." Quinn stated.

"Okay, I'm gonna see if Sam's awake, see what she remembers, if she doesn't remember a lot then I'll ask her tomorrow. You get to sleep too." You replied.

"Yeah that's a good idea," The girl said, yawning, "Night Y/N." She added, turning to go to her room.

You put your cup in the sink and turned the lights out in the kitchen and walked over to yours and Sam's room. Upon entry, you saw Sam sat up in bed with the lamp on, scrolling on her phone.

"You should be asleep." You said to her.

"Mhmmm, couldn't sleep without you, plus the video of you having a go at those girls is going around everywhere." Sam replied, showing you her phone.

"Yeah, I don't care. I told my lawyer about it and she's on it, so it's all good," You answered, "Wanna tell me what happened?" You asked her.

"I went to go get them, and then walked in and was roped into playing beer pong and then next thing I know, its 5 games later and I see Chad punch that guy and I go over and see Tara at the bottom of the stairs, so I put the pieces together and tasered the bastard." She explained.

"So you've probably got alcohol poisoning?" You stated.

"Yep." She said, "But hey, at least I don't smell like booze anymore." She added.

"That is true." You agreed. "You okay, apart from the vomiting thing?" You added.

"Uh pretty crappy actually. I just, I can't help but want to look out for Tara and protect her when I think she needs it, but it just sucks when she can't see that and gets angry for me doing that and not letting her live her life. I don't know it just sucks her not being able to trust me, or maybe it's me. Maybe I need to let her make her own mistakes and come to me for help rather then me jumping in to save her all the time." Sam stated.

"Well it's up to you to judge that. Sometimes you need to intervein to save her, sometimes it's just your gut saying you do." You advised.

"If I were you, I would wait to talk to her about it tomorrow. Make sure she's okay, make your point even if she interrupts, however if she does then take note of what she's saying, and then let her make her point. If you do that and discuss how you both feel and how you felt, you should be fine." You added.

"Thanks," Sam said, "I needed that." She added.

"Anytime." You replied, slipping into bed next to her.

"I love you," She slurred, kissing you deeply.

"Your drunk, but I love you too." You answered.

"I'm never too drunk to know I love you." She stated.

"Night darling." You said to her, kissing her forehead and wrapping a hand around her waist.

"Night babe." Sam replied, reaching up and turning the lamp off before settling down and falling asleep in your arms, just as you'd done earlier that night.

*****

This was a long one but I hope you enjoyed reading this as much as I did writing it, let me know what other things you would like me to write, and yeah feel free to request for the characters on my pinned post.

See you in the next one.

-Harlow

[luxaofhesperides]

ghostlights prompt with "it's okay, you're safe now" hurt/comfort?

It takes over a month to find Danny. 

Thirty seven days of panic and ever growing dread, searching for him every single day. Duke hasn’t felt this way since he was in foster care, running away from whatever home he got placed in to search for his parents. 

The first week was spent trying to find any trace of Danny, working on nothing but his last few messages and a voicemail he left Duke, where all he said was a whispered, Call me back when you can. I might just be paranoid, but I think someone’s following me. I’m walking home right now. I… I don’t know, I feel a little sick, Duke, I— And then static before the voicemail ends. 

There hadn’t been any sign that Danny made it home. No cameras caught sight of him after he walked past a bus stop. No one around on the streets to tell him what happened. 

One moment, Danny was there. The next, he was gone.

He had to recruit the rest of the Bats into searching for Danny, and his guilt of outing Danny as a meta (half ghost, as Danny called himself) was easily buried under his desperation. Duke knows the statistics. The chances of finding someone after three days drop drastically, and after enough time, it’s safe to assume they’re dead even if people keep searching. 

Jason promised to interrogate some traffickers moving outside of Crime Alley, updating Duke weekly on any other kidnappings that might be related to Danny’s case. Tim had been checking around Danny’s neighborhood, slipping in and out of spaces to gather information, leaving behind cameras and bugs on the off chance the kidnappers came back to the area. Barbara hacked her way into the messages of traffickers, trying to find any mention of Danny. Even Bruce had gotten involved, looking into Danny’s background to see if there was anyone that might be connected to his disappearance.

Vlad Masters wasn’t a lead. He had no idea Danny was missing when they called, and he ended the call immediately to begin his own search.

Thirty seven days.

Duke didn’t want to lose hope, but all he could think about were the empty spaces in his life where Danny once was. 

And now, on the thirty eighth day, Duke jerks awake as his cell phone rings at max volume and he scrambles to get it. He’s not risking another missed call, not after Danny disappeared. 

He doesn’t have time to say anything once he accepts the call before Jason is saying, “We found him Duke. Babs is sending the location to the GPS of your motorcycle. Suit up and meet us here.”

“Is he okay?”

“He’s…” Jason hesitates. “He’ll live. But these fuckers did a number on him, from what we've read in their files. We’re waiting for you and the others to get here, and then we’ll take them out while you get your boy to safety.”

“I’m on my way,” Duke says, already pulling his suit out to get changed. He hasn’t bothered to bring it to the Batcave for weeks, spending most of his time out on the streets as the Signal. It’s just easier to have it on hand than to go to the Batcave to suit up, or to leave it in the Hatch. He chucks his phone back onto his bed and is jumping out the window of his apartment just a minute later, dropping down to street level just as his motorcycle pulls up on the street.

He’ll have to remember to get Babs a gift basket or something when this is all over. It’s the least he can do after she’s helped him so much over the past month. 

“Thanks, Babs,” Duke says into his comm, switching it to a private line with Oracle. She hums an acknowledgement, but otherwise doesn’t respond. Not that Duke has much in him for conversation; all his focus is on Danny, Danny, Danny.

The GPS on the motorcycle leads him to the outskirts of GCU campus, in one of the buildings that had been closed off after a fire earlier in the year that they still haven’t fixed due to the amount of mobsters who liked to pass through it, using it as a drop sight for arms deals. Red Hood leans on the chain link fence surrounding it, watching as he approaches.

Duke all but jumps off the motorcycle to reach Red Hood, barely remembering to turn on the cloaking to hide it from sight.

“Where is he?”

“Basement,” Red Hood answers, and even through the helmet, Duke can hear the tightness in his voice that means he’s doing his best to hold back his rage. “Red Robin and the Batgirls are in there, getting Oracle access to their computers. They’re going to make sure no one slips by us. I’m going to make them wish I had been kind enough to kill them, and you’re going to take your boy straight to the Batcave where the Doc is waiting with Alfred.”

It’s not much of a plan, but Duke trusts the others to do what they need to do. All he cares about is getting Danny out of there. 

“Lead the way.”

They scale the fence easily, and there’s no one on the upper levels when they walk in. Not even a single camera to alert anyone to their entrance. Red Hood leads him down a stairwell, ignoring the way the shadows around them move on their own, Duke’s agitation making them twist into some dark nightmare. 

He sees the flicker of light as soon as they step out into the basement hallway. All the light bulbs above their head are broken, covering the floor in sharp glass, and doors going down the hall are all left open, some barely hanging onto their hinges. The building is a wreck, graffiti decorating portions of the wall, and it looks abandoned. He would bet even mobsters avoid coming down here; it’s all sorts of health hazards.

Normally, he’d be cautious. He would sneak through the wall, sticking to the shadows and staying hidden as he went deeper in, ready for anything. 

Duke hasn’t been thinking clearly in weeks. He sees the light, the soft white glow he associates with Danny, and tears after it like a man possessed. 

Distantly, he hears Red Hood curse behind him, and then he’s turning the corner, feeling the familiar burn in his eyes as his powers kick in and let him see the small ball of light flickering weakly as it guides him through the basement level. 

Red Robin and Batgirl’s voices fill his helmet and Duke doesn’t waste a second in muting his comm; if there’s a problem, they can work it out with Red Hood. Now that he’s so close to Danny, he’s not letting anything get in his way. 

The first guy he runs into is a surprise. Clearly a scientist, judging by the lab coat and the notebook in his hands, paired with the dark circles stamped beneath his eyes. He barely has time to open his mouth, looking alarmed, before Duke slams into him, tackling him to the floor and knocking him out with a quick hit to the temple. 

A vent in the ceiling falls down, and Red Robin pops out.

“They’re keeping him in the back, locked in. I’m warning you now, it’s not a pretty sight.”

“I don’t care,” Duke snaps, “I’m getting him back.”

“We’ll clear the way and keep them from stopping you,” Red Robin says.

He whips out his bo staff and sprints away, kicking in a door. Duke follows after him, ignoring the yells from the other scientists gathered in there, leaving them to Red Robin’s tender mercies. 

The light leads him to a room hidden away in the lab, a small window in the door that is too dirty to see through. The door is locked, so Duke feels out the shadows around him and uses one to slip into the room.

And Danny’s there.

Danny, never without a smile, glowing and funny and so, so sweet, is lying curled up on the floor. There are shackles around his ankles, keeping him trapped in the room with the chain nailed into the wall. His wrists are bound in meta suppressant cuffs, leaving him weak and vulnerable. That’s not the worst thing.

The worst thing is the visible wounds Duke can see on him, sluggishly bleeding. There are blood stains all over the floor, cuts along his arms and thighs, clothes torn into nothing but dirty rags. There’s a large incision on his chest, going down from his collarbone to his navel, hastily stitched together in a way that only keeps it slightly closed, the stitches loose enough to be pulled out with a single pull. 

As if sensing his gaze, Danny blinks his eyes open, staring at the space next to Duke. Slowly, his gaze slides over, eyes hazy with pain and exhaustion. He opens his mouth, but no sound comes out.

Duke kneels next to him, pulling off his gloves to cup Danny’s cheek as gently as he can.

“Hey,” he whispers, overcome with both grief at the pain Danny had to go through, and relief at finally finding him. “Hey, it’s okay, you’re safe now.”

Danny doesn’t try to speak again. Instead, he closes his eyes and leans into Duke’s touch, relaxing. 

“I got you honey, it’s alright. I’m gonna get you out of here and take you to some people who can patch you up.”

He slides his arms beneath Danny’s body, lifting him into his arms. 

He doesn’t remember much of what happens next; it’s all a blur of movement and feeling blood slide over his hands. Later, he’ll hear the others give their report, telling of how they found Danny following the trail of a university professor bragging about a paper that would make him famous for a deeper understanding of meta biology. They’ll recount their scouting, the information they stole, how many people they fought and captured. They’ll talk about how the shadows completely overwhelmed the basement when Duke left with Danny, traveling through shadows at a speed he had never achieved before, going farther than he’s ever been able to. 

Leslie and Alfred input their own medical reports of the torture done to Danny and how long he’ll need to be in recovery, checking for infection and possible side effects to his powers. 

All of that will be important later. 

Duke doesn’t care about anything at all when he’s finally able to return to Danny’s side once Alfred and Leslie are done patching him up. The weight that’s been on his shoulders for the past thirty seven days is gone. The sight of Danny’s blue eyes fluttering open is the most beautiful he’ll ever see.

“Hey, honey,” he says softly, holding Danny’s hand as he wakes.

Danny smiles at him. “Duke,” he whispers, “I knew you’d find me.”

“Always, honey. Always.”

. . .

[send me a ghostlights prompt!]

[bitchinbarzal]

Plastic Palm Trees | J Drysdale

INSTALMENT IN THE THINK LATER! SERIES

It’s not great but this song wasn’t giving much.

-

Used to drive 'round in your wrangler, in our deadbeat town. In the parking lot, we would talk about all the drama. Had nothing better to do. Now I go out with my new friends to a party downtown, in a new dress, 'til the liquor runs out. Every weekend, go out somebody new

You and Jamie were the romance in the movies. He made you feel like the star of any show at any given time.

He didn’t need to treat you to fancy dinners and vacations. Your favourite times spent together were when you’d borrow Trevor’s wrangler and he would drive up the coast before finding a car park to stop in and you’d both hold one another listening to the radio.

“I love you, jamie”

“I love you more pretty girl”

You’d told each other for the first time in that car. On those nights.

If you had asked anyone who you were as a person they would say quiet, conserved and completely, totally in love with Jamie Drysdale.

Now, you were out every weekend. You could be found in any club in downtown LA.

You were posted up on Instagram wearing little to no clothes, a drastic change from the oversized vintage ducks crewneck you would be found in.

Those instagram pictures would always include a new boy, never tagged.

Jamie would scroll through and try figure out who they were but he never could. They were simply, in his mind, douchebag.

He talked to Mason and Trevor who told him they’d seen you around. That you were a shell of the person they’d all once known before.

Before Jamie broke you.

Thought that it was real, thought that it was worth it, Out the window everything was looking perfect. Caught in a dream, it's not what it seems. Thought that I was fine sitting in the backseat, In the mirror really looked like I was happy caught in a dream 'til something in my head said ‘I'm sorry’ You were just lookin' at plastic palm trees

Everything was fine, it was perfect.

From the outside it seemed like you were coping with everything so well when in reality you took a back seat to Jamie.

Jamie’s trade was nothing short of terrifying for you and your relationship but you both wanted to make it work so you did. Jamie held you in the airport, holding your cheeks in his hands

“I love you pretty girl”

“Don’t forget me Drysdale”

“Never”

The first few weeks proved that while you might have been in this, Jamie certainly wasn’t.

He aired your calls and when he did pick up he wasn’t talking much just agreeing to whatever you said.

Everyone online and in your life awed over you both, how good of a couple you were for taking the distance in your stride.

Until the distance wasn’t just between you two, it was now you three.

You spotted her in the background of his pictures or fan images and you knew. You knew he’d replaced you.

For a while you just went on, not wanting to lose Jamie at all but something kicked you one day to decide to walk away.

Walk away from sadness and Jamie.

You called him and left a message “there’s not enough room for the three of us Jamie. You said you’d never forget me and you replaced me”

It's not how it used to be

The phone rang in your bag, you pulled it out without checking the caller.

“Hello?”

“I- I shouldn’t have called” your throat tightened at the sound of his voice

“Jamie…”

There was a silence that hung between you both for a moment. It wasn’t the silence that was warm and welcoming. The silence was cold and screamed at you to hang up.

He spoke, “I’m so sorry for what happened, I still love you pretty girl”

You clenched your eyes, stopping the tears from falling and sighed “It was all fake Jamie. You didn’t love me then and you don’t love me now. It was fake”

“It was never fake to me, you were real!

we are real”

“We were never real, my smile was fake, your love for me was fake… nothing was real Jamie”

“I love you… that’s real” he croaked, tears streaming down his face “It’s real, I promise”

“How do you know that?”

“Because I can hear my heart breaking”

“Funny… I thought it was frozen”

[heich0e]

the heart is but a winding road p.2 - shouto todoroki/f!reader (1.8k) fluff, pro-hero shouto todoroki is not good with kids (lying), natsuo is the most big brother that ever big brothered, someone pls give the poor assistant a raise, i truly believe that shouto hyperfixates on random things for a few weeks at a time and you cannot change my mind, also i promise the 𝓇𝑜𝓂𝒶𝓃𝒸𝑒 is coming.. i just need to set the mood first.

p.1 - YOU ARE HERE - p.3 - p.4 (upcoming)

“What was I like when I was five?” 

“Uh, dunno? Guess you were kinda—hey!” Natsuo doesn’t even manage to finish his thought before something (apparently very pressing) on his end of their phone call distracts him. “Aoi! You little—get down from there! Motherf—“

Shouto listens to the chaos unfold with a completely unchanging expression.

“Tou! Talk to your uncle for a second. Your brother's gonna break his neck!”

There’s a scuffle, and before Shouto can so much as protest there’s a little voice greeting him on the other end of the line.

“Hi Oji-chan!” Touma, Natsuo’s 7-year-old, says cheerfully after having evidently been handed the phone.

He hears a little giggle and the sound of his brother squawking incoherently somewhere in the distant background on their side of the call. This is immediately followed by a series of very loud crashes and a panicked string of words which, even in his limited knowledge of childrearing, Shouto's fairly certain kids are not supposed to hear.

“Hello,” he greets his nephew curtly. “If your father’s busy, I can—”

There’s a bit more shuffling, some disgruntled grumbling and laboured panting, and then Natsuo is taking the phone again.

“Sorry, sorry,” the older man says breathlessly, and Shouto stares up at the ceiling over his sofa blankly. “Oh, okay, what were you asking about?”

“Me. When I was five.”

“Oh, yeah!” Shouto’s brother laughs. “Dunno. You were round, I guess? And pretty squishy.”

Shouto rolls his eyes. “That’s not what I meant.”

Natsuo laughs, loud and carefree like he always does. “Well, what did you mean, then?”

“What kind of stuff did I like?”

There’s a thread hanging from Shouto’s sleeve, and he fiddles with it while he speaks with his brother. It’s distracting, but he can’t quite grip the troublesome string to pluck it loose since he’s using his other hand to hold the phone to his ear.

Natuso hems and haws as he mulls Shouto's question over for a bit. “Soba and chewing on things, mostly.”

“I liked chewing on things when I was five?” Shouto’s reply is flat and unamused. He shifts to hold his cellphone between his shoulder and his ear as he lays back against the cushions of his sofa, snapping the string off easily once he has the use of both his hands.

“Yeah, you were always bite-y,” Natsuo replies simply.

The youngest Todoroki sighs. He rolls the thin bit of thread between his fingers for a moment, watching how the ends split and fray, then flicks it away disinterestedly.

“What’s all this about, anyway?”

There’s a significant amount of racket on Natsuo’s end of the call, but Shouto suspects that’s a fairly normal thing for his older brother’s home. What with two kids and more pets that Shouto can keep track of, there’s always pandemonium happening whenever he stops by to visit. He can’t help but think it’s a miracle that Natsuo managed to find anyone who would willingly subject themselves to that, let alone a partner as normal as the one he married.

“Nothing really,” Shouto mumbles. “Just curious.”

“Well, Yumi would remember that stuff better than I do anyway,” Natsuo chirps. “You could always ask her!” 

“Yeah, thanks,” Shouto nods even though he knows his brother can’t see the gesture. 

They end the call with vague plans to meet up for dinner the following week, though these plans often end up getting rescheduled or completely forgotten about in the stir of their busy adult lives. Once the line disconnects, Shouto is once more left staring up at the boring beige ceiling of his living room.

His apartment is always just a bit too cold. It’s been that way since the day he moved in. His hope in choosing such an upscale domicile had been that he wouldn’t run into issues like this one; it was newly constructed after all, and cost enough that things as simple as climate control shouldn’t be a problem. But no matter how much he fiddles with the thermostat, no matter the time of year, there’s always a chill that seems to linger in his quiet home.

He blinks up at the ceiling and listens to the pitter patter of rain outside.

It’s been raining for days now, with only the occasional break in the downpour that never lasts more than a few hours. His last four patrols have ended with him towelling off in the changing room at his agency, using his quirk to warm the terrycloth before he ruffles it through his drenched hair. His costume is fairly well-insulated, and repels the rain, but he still always feels so soggy by the time he gets home.

Suddenly, he thinks about a little yellow raincoat, and the thump of rubber boots.

Truthfully, Shouto’s not sure why he hasn’t been able to stop thinking about that strange encounter from a few days prior. The little boy in the yellow raincoat and the ill-fated, crumpled receipt.

Maybe it’s because he can’t remember the last time a kid was less excited to meet him. 

Maybe it’s something else.

Shouto’s expensive sofa creaks as he pitches himself upwards, reaching out towards the tablet he’d left resting on the edge of his coffee table. He unlocks the device, and realizes he’d left it open to a news article about the Recycling Hero he'd been reading earlier in the day.

He’s been reading a lot about Reductro lately—just about any resource he can find. News articles online, press releases, pamphlets that environmental activists are handing out on street corners. Hell, half the hits on the the guy's Heropedia page from the past week were probably thanks to Shouto.

Just earlier that very day he’d even placed an order online for a copy of the Recycling Hero's newest book.

Reductro, Shouto recently learned, has dedicated his life’s work to inspiring meaningful environmental changes around Japan; he uses his quirk that is capable of breaking down plastics and other complex carbon compounds (as well as his doctorate in Ecology and Environmental Science) to make significant improvements to the climate and the country. The man has a way of speaking that’s neither overly sanitized nor pedantic and inaccessible; kids love him for his exciting way of talking about the environment and why they should care about it, but he's equally capable of putting on a suit and addressing a crowd of adults. Above all else, he seems to be truly passionate about the work that he’s doing–a conclusion Shouto has inarguably come to through his extensive research, and by watching just about every video he's managed to track down online.

He hates to admit it, but the guy is kind of… really cool.

He gets why Naoyuki was so obsessed with him.

Shouto taps around the surface of the tablet for a moment, pulling up an article about a documentary that Reductro is in the process of producing about microplastics. He scans through the article—making a mental note to look up when it will be coming out and see if his secretary can get him an early cut of it—when an image at the bottom of the article makes him pause. It’s a recent photograph that, according to the caption underneath, was taken only a few weeks prior when Reductro was giving a presentation at a local elementary school.

A little voice rings in the back of Shouto's mind, from a rainy day not unlike this one.

“He came to my school last week and he helps to get plastic outta the ocean!”

Naoyuki may have been a bit of a menace, but he was well-intended. And ultimately Shouto has him to thank for opening his eyes to the prestige of the Recycling Hero.

He stares at the image lighting up the screen in his hands for a moment, his eyes scanning over the name of the elementary school a few times as an idea begins to take shape.

He reaches instinctively for his cellphone.

“Good evening, Shouto-sama,” Shoto’s assistant and secretary, Takahashi, answers on the second ring—just like he always does. “Are you well?”

“Hi,” Shouto greets the man in a relatively abrupt manner, brushing off pleasantries for the sake of saving time. “How hard is it to find a kid?” 

There’s a few beats of silence as Shouto’s question lingers over the line.

“Such as a missing person’s case?” Takahashi-san finally responds, though the usually proper and eloquent man sounds uncharacteristically baffled. 

“No,” Shouto shakes his head. He thinks about his next words carefully. “If i know where a kid goes to school and his first name, could you track him down?”

“Track… him down?”

For all the hard-fought takedowns Shouto has made in his career as a hero, he sure is losing this battle.

“He’s not a criminal or anything,” Shouto explains, and Takahashi hums understandingly, but it sounds sort of like when an adult is placating a child. “I met him in the street the other day."

"I see."

Shouto knows he still doesn't get it, and he wracks his brain for a way to make this whole situation make sense, even though it doesn't.

"He’s… a fan.”

Lying is bad. Shouto knows this. He happens to pride himself on knowing the difference between good and bad, as a matter of professionalism. But Naoyuki is a fan, for all intents and purposes.

Just not his.

“Oh,” Takahashi-san sounds more at ease now with this half-truthful revelation, “very well. I don’t suppose it would be all too difficult to find the child’s information. I'm sure the school would be willing to forward contact information for a legal guardian if your office were to reach out on official business.”

“His mother," Shouto replies immediately.

“Pardon?”

“He, uh..."—Shouto fiddles with the tablet in his left hand—"The little boy. He was with his mother when I met him. She’ll remember me.”

“I see. Please forward me the name of the institution and I’ll reach out to the school administration first thing in the morning.” Takahashi has always been exceedingly competent, since the first day Shouto hired him. He’s a bit stuffy, and Shouto’s pretty sure he’s never seen him smile, but the young hero strangely admires the man's no-nonsense sort of antiquated way of doing things. “I assume you’re looking to send some sort of gift. Perhaps a signed poster? Some merchandise?” 

“Yes,” Shouto says, nodding. Then he pauses. “But not mine.”

“Oh?” the man on the other end of the line—who Shouto now realizes is likely at home during his off-hours that he rudely interrupted—sounds puzzled again. 

“Takahashi-san…” Shouto stares down at the tablet in his hands, still open to the article he’d been reading before he picked up his phone to make this call. “Have you ever heard of the Recycling Hero?”

[tropes-and-tales]

Hi! The headcanon that you did for me was so good! Any chance you could do a part 2?

This is not suitable for work (NSFW - vague talk about sex), so 18+ only to be safe. Also very angsty.

Dating Ray Merrimen also includes…

When he takes you home after you drink too much on a night out, you invite him in…and he declines. “Next time,” he tells you, right before he kisses you gently…

…”Next time” takes far longer than you want.

You can’t tell if he’s torturing you or if he has genuinely forgotten.

You find out later that he’s preoccupied with a job. His work. You have a vague understanding that Ray doesn’t necessarily work an honest job, but you don’t question it.

That preoccupation with his job? That will be a PROBLEM later on.

When he resurfaces weeks later, when he’s ready for “next time” to be “now,” you’ve already given up on him. Rejoined the apps. Traded a handful of lackluster messages with mediocre guys on the apps.

Then comes Ray, striding back into your life in that purposeful way he has.

“Come out with me,” he says, and it’s an order, not a question.

But you don’t clock it because you’re so damned happy to see him again. You delete the apps on your phone and allow yourself to enjoy the fluttery feeling in your stomach.

He takes you to a hibachi place. It’s not what you expected – your used to guys taking you to fancy restaurants with long reservation wait-lists, or trendy bars, or exclusive clubs. Not a place where a hibachi chef tosses pieces of chicken into your open mouth like a mother bird feeding her babies.

It makes Ray smile – that small twitch at the corner of his mouth.

He takes you out for sundaes at a nearby ice cream stand along the beach. The surf roars in the background, and you ask him, “why hibachi?”

He shrugs. “I like the place. Used to go there after football games in high school.”

You think on it later that night when he drops you off – he declines your invitation to come inside again, but at least you get a better kiss: his big hand gently laid on the back of your neck, his mouth lingering on yours.

The hibachi place? Maybe it means nothing. Or maybe it means he feels safe there, a familiar place with good memories.

So what does it mean that he took you there?

It’s hard to tell. It’s all conjecture with him. When you try to ask him open-ended questions to get to know him better, he answers without revealing much. You get his dossier – date of birth, where he grew up, his rank in the military – but you get little else.

Fears? Hopes? Did he ever have his heart broken? What did he wish for in his future?

He never answers. He only gives you that little Ray Merrimen smile and changes the subject.

Little by little, he works you up to being physical. From lingering kisses in the doorway to your apartment to make-out sessions on your couch to sex in your bed.

It’s good. No, it’s great. Ray is a giver.

He always leaves you satisfied…

…but he always leaves.

Ray never spends the night. He cuddles for a set amount of time, then untangles himself from you, dresses, lays a gentle kiss to the top of your head, then leaves.

Once you’re clued into it, you start to time him. A horrifying realization: Ray times out his post-coital moments to the second. You get exactly eighteen minutes of cuddling before he leaves. No more, no less.

“You can spend the night,” you offer more than once.

“Don’t want to mess up your morning,” he always replies.

“Maybe I can come to your place sometime,” you suggest.

Ray does his small smile. “My place is a shit-hole.”

You have those fluttery feelings in your stomach. You have the heavy languor of the sexually-sated…

…you have a sick feeling in your gut, too.

In some ways, Ray is too good to be true. He takes you out, pays for everything, holds your door open for you. He checks to make sure you make it home or make it to work okay when you don’t see him. He sends you a goodnight text on the nights you don’t see him. He is a beyond generous lover, gives more than he gets, and he spends a lot of time learning your body. It would feel worshipful…

…if it weren’t so mechanical.

Why does it feel like you’re dating a robot sometimes? There’s no…passion. No feeling, no heart.

You try to pick a fight with him: he tilts his head and doesn’t rise to the occasion.

You try to have a conversation about the future with him: his mouth quirks into a small smile and he changes the topic.

You try to slow the sex down into something more full of feeling; holding his head and gazing into his eyes: he stares back, unblinking.

“I love you,” you tell him. “You too,” he replies.

You have a dark night of the soul.

You wonder if you’re spoiled. Every relationship has its challenges. Ray treats you so well – are you being stupid to miss fighting, to miss passion, to miss the fire of two people coming together and sometimes chafing against each other?

Then you wonder – how can you keep this up? What comes next? If you marry Ray – even the thought feels inconceivable – then what? A house in the suburbs? Kids? You can’t picture Ray sitting at the breakfast table on a Saturday morning, eating a short stack of homemade pancakes. You can’t picture Ray bouncing a newborn in his arms.

Hell, you can’t even picture how he’d react if you slid a positive pregnancy test across the bathroom counter. He’d probably give you his little non-smile smile, then hug you for a precise amount of time, then take you to buy baby things.

But he’d never come to your appointments. He’d never put his palm on your pregnant belly, never tear up when he felt his imaginary child kick back.

Isn’t that answer enough, then?

When he comes over at his regularly scheduled time, you gently untangle yourself from his embrace.

“We need to talk,” you tell him.

He takes it exactly as you expect: blank face, unblinking eyes. He offers a single nod, a single gentle kiss to the top of your head before he leaves.

You made the right choice. He hardly seemed to care. He seemed bored, in fact. You sit on your couch and allow yourself to cry out all of the tears you had held back in the months you dated Ray.

“He didn’t care at all,” you whisper to yourself.

You don’t see, of course, that when Ray returns to his shit-hole apartment, when he lies down on his bed in the darkness, he exhales a long, shuddering breath…then in the darkness of his room, completely alone, he lets himself cry.

But not for too long. He has a job coming up - a big one at the Federal Reserve. It was going to be the one to get him out of the life, to set him up to finally be with you fully and entirely.

Now, though? Now he only wants to do the job for the sake of the job.

[bl00dst41ned]

*.·:·.✦ my little secret (jude bellingham ‘series’ pt.1) ✦.·:·.*

pairing: jude bellingham x female oc (Mariah)

summary: in which Jude chooses the wrong time to break up with Mariah

author's note: saw @mwahuniverse’s post. here it is. might be a three to four-part series so if you want to get tagged for the other ones, comment or drop it in my asks (part 2 is already ready and out Friday or Saturday hehe)

series masterlist

word count: 654

Two lines.

It felt like Mariah’s eyes could not get away from these two lines on the pink stick.

These two lines, as simple as they looked, were about to change the entire course of her life.

Not believing the sole test even after staring at it for minutes, she quickly picked up the other tests:

Two lines

“Pregnant”

“Pregnant, 2-3 weeks”

The young woman’s vision blurred as her eyes filled with tears that she tried to dry with her hands. But the overwhelming feeling took over, tears now strolling down her cheek.

Not tears of sadness, but of happiness. Happiness from growing life in her belly. Happy to start a family with the person she loved, Jude.

Speaking of him, Mariah checked her phone, seeing that her boyfriend should be back. She rushed to hide the tests and order some of their signature meal they only eat together.

Behind the door could be heard keys jiggling before it opens. Jude doesn’t have time to walk in that he is greeted with an overly cheerful Mariah. He gave her a quick kiss on the temple before heading to the living room with his girlfriend on his steps.

“I have something to tell you” Mariah started with a smile as they sat on the sofa.

Weirdly, Jude sat as far as possible for her, something he started to do for a few days now. Mariah had picked on his change of behaviour but decided to ignore it.

“Wait, let me start” Jude interrupted in a stern voice, which caused Mariah’s smile to slowly fade.

“I think we should stop this”

“Stop what?” Confusion laced her voice.

“Us”

His words hit her like a car crash. Nothing could have prepared her for this moment. Jude, the man that she loved, just broke up with her for no apparent reason. Broke her heart when she thought their love was sealed by the little seed that was about to grow in her belly.”

Her breathing got heavy and palms became sweaty but she tried to cover it.

“Wh-why ?” She managed to ask in the least shaky voice she could let out.

“I just don’t feel like doing it anymore, I kind of lost interest” He nonchalantly responded, breaking Mariah’s heart even more.

“Yeah, we should end it now, you go your way and I go mine”

The more he spoke the more it felt like he stamped on her heart. As much as she tried to keep face and not show anything, her body decided otherwise since her hands lightly shook from trying not to burst out crying.

As Jude kept on ranting as if he didn’t care how Mariah felt, her phone buzzed repeatedly.

She opened her phone seeing a DM from an unknown girl, named Leslie

missleslie

*sent one attachement*

tell my man I can’t wait to see him again 😘

Mariah opened the attachment seeing a mirror photo of her, Jude laying in the background on his phone. The same phone, set on the coffee table. With the same outfit he wore right in front of her. The same Jude that just broke her heart had spent the day with another girl.

“Who’s that?” She turned her phone around showing the picture to him.

He let a light smirk grow a bit before he just sat back unfazed

“What d’you want me to tell you?”

After all their time together, Jude had always cared for her, making sure nobody, not even him, hurt her feelings. But now it felt like all of it had gone away.

“Just go, bro”

To which he did. He walked out of her apartment without a word or even a look. He just left her.

Once the door closed, Mariah took out the test, looking at each of them intensively. She bursted in tears, not able to control them.

She cried and cried until there were no tears left to cry.

like and repost for support (hope you enjoyed it)

masterlist for more

[valiwrites]

can u do something with Joao Felix and have a little bit of angst but have them be together kinda something along the vibe of the brutal prank one.ily writing btw🤍

WHEN THE DISTANCE HURTS

pairing: joao felix x reader

type: angst, fluff

warnings: toxic joao/toxic reader

MASTERLIST

<><><><><><><>

Y/N sat on the couch, staring blankly at the TV. The show playing in front of her was a blur, the sound blending into the background as her mind wandered elsewhere. It was late—again. And once more, she was alone.

The apartment was quiet, too quiet, except for the faint sound of rain starting to hit the windows. She glanced at her phone. Nothing from Joao in the past two hours. Just the usual: *“Training ran late, be home soon.”* That was hours ago.

The door finally creaked open, and Joao stepped inside, his hair damp from the rain and his expression weary. He set his bag down by the door, clearly exhausted.

"Hey," he said softly, flashing her a tired smile as if everything was normal.

Y/N didn’t look up from the screen. “Hey,” she replied, her voice flat.

Joao hesitated, sensing the shift in the air. “You okay?” he asked, walking over to her, but she didn’t respond right away. He sat beside her, leaning in for a kiss, but she subtly pulled away, keeping her eyes on the TV.

That was it. His patience thinned.

“Y/N, what’s wrong?” he asked, frustration creeping into his voice.

She paused for a second, heart racing as she debated how to say what had been gnawing at her for weeks. She glanced at him finally, her words sharp despite the pain behind them. “What’s wrong? You’re never here, Joao. That’s what’s wrong.”

He blinked, clearly taken aback. “What? I just got home. Training ran late. I told you.”

“Yeah, you always tell me,” she said bitterly, her eyes now on him. “That’s your excuse every time. Training ran late, or you had a game, or a trip. You’re always busy. I’m always here waiting for you, alone, and I’m so tired of it.”

Joao’s eyebrows furrowed, the frustration in him bubbling up. “I can’t help that, Y/N. You knew this was part of the deal. Football is demanding. It’s my job.”

“I get that it’s your job,” she said, her voice rising. “But what about us? It feels like I’m always second to football, like I barely exist in your life anymore.”

His face tightened, clearly not expecting the argument to escalate like this. “You’re being unfair. I’m working my ass off every day. What do you expect me to do? Just stop? This is how my life is. I can’t change it.”

Y/N stood up from the couch, pacing in front of him, her emotions finally spilling over. “I’m not asking you to stop, Joao! I’m asking you to care. To notice me. To make time for me. I feel like I’m the only one holding this relationship together while you’re too busy with your ‘life’ to even see it.”

Joao stood up now too, his voice growing louder. “You think I don’t care? You think I’m not doing this for us? I’m out there, working for our future, for everything we’ve talked about. I don’t know what else you want from me.”

“I want you here!” she cried, her voice breaking. “I want you with me now, not just in some future that might never come if we keep going like this. I feel like I don’t even know you anymore.”

Joao’s frustration boiled over, his tone sharp as he threw his hands up. “I don’t know what you expect me to do, Y/N. Football is my career. You know how important this is to me!”

“And what about me? Am I not important?” she shot back, her eyes brimming with tears. “Because it doesn’t feel like I am. It feels like I’m just waiting around for you to notice that I’m still here.”

Her words hit him hard, but he couldn’t shake the feeling of being attacked for something he couldn’t control. “You’re acting like I don’t love you. Like I’m doing this on purpose,” he said, his voice softer but still tinged with hurt.

Y/N wiped a tear that had slipped down her cheek. “I’m not saying you don’t love me. But love isn’t enough when I’m always alone, Joao. It’s not just about loving me—it’s about showing up for me. I don’t want to feel like I’m competing with your career for a spot in your life.”

Joao stared at her, his anger slowly giving way to guilt. He hated seeing her cry, hated knowing that he was the reason for it. But he also felt trapped, stuck between the demands of his career and his relationship. “I didn’t know it was this bad,” he admitted quietly, his voice breaking the silence between them.

She let out a bitter laugh, shaking her head. “How could you know? You’re never here.”

The room felt suffocating in its quietness after that. They stood there, both breathing heavily, the weight of the argument hanging between them like a storm cloud. Joao’s heart clenched as he realized just how badly he had been neglecting her, how lost in his own world he had become.

He stepped toward her, his voice softer now, almost pleading. “I’m sorry, Y/N. I didn’t realize how much this was hurting you.”

Y/N looked up at him, her arms wrapped around herself. “I don’t want to keep feeling like this, Joao. I love you, but I can’t keep being the only one fighting for this relationship.”

His heart sank at her words, and in that moment, everything clicked. He had been so focused on his career, so caught up in everything that he had forgotten about the person waiting for him at home. The person who had been there for him through it all.

Joao closed the gap between them, his hands reaching for hers, but she hesitated. His voice was barely above a whisper as he said, “I love you, Y/N. I’m sorry. I know I’ve been distant, and I know I haven’t been showing up for you the way I should. But I’m here now, and I don’t want to lose you.”

Tears streamed down her face as she looked up at him, her heart aching but wanting to believe him. “I don’t want to lose us either. But I can’t do this alone anymore.”

“You won’t have to,” he said, his voice thick with emotion. “I’ll make more time for us. I’ll be better, I promise. I don’t want you to feel like you’re second. You’re everything to me.”

Y/N’s defenses started to crumble as she looked into his eyes, seeing the guilt, the love, the sincerity there. She wanted to believe him, needed to believe that things could get better.

Joao pulled her into his arms, holding her tightly as if afraid she might slip away if he let go. “I’m sorry,” he whispered against her hair. “I’m so sorry.”

She wrapped her arms around him, burying her face in his chest, letting the tears flow. It wasn’t perfect, and they still had a lot to work through, but in that moment, she felt the weight of the loneliness lift just a little. Joao kissed the top of her head, holding her close, silently promising her that he would do better.

“I love you,” he whispered again, his voice soft but certain.

“I love you too,” Y/N whispered back, her voice shaky but filled with hope.

They stood there for a long time, wrapped in each other’s arms, knowing that it wouldn’t be easy, but it would be worth it.

<><><><><><><><>