#Pro Series Replacement Parts

[disneyprincemuke]

bother figures * fem!driver

being the designated baby sister of the grid by default is never as easy as you think it would be

pairings: alex albon x fem!driver, max verstappen x fem!driver, george russell x fem!driver, lando norris x fem!driver

warnings: ugh annoying men

notes: this is hardly funny but like i've had to take inspiration from my bother-less life rn so i'm like rly going through it rn LMFAO and it's almost 5am here but as far as i'm concerned, it is night time somewhere so teCHNICALLY i'm not late to an update!

(series masterlist) | (📂 the rookie season)

in the almost empty room, she sits in the corner seat as she taps away on her phone a message to reply to her siblings' group chat. she had arrived early for the driver's briefing and decided to take solace in the corner with a cup of hot chocolate.

she was enjoying the peace and serenity with the soft chatter in the background as she tried to lock herself in for the race weekend. that was until she felt a presence looming behind her with an aura she couldn't possibly ignore.

she slowly lifts her head up with a mean glare. she turns her head and meets max's blue eyes and sly grin. "what'cha doin'?"

she puts her phone on her lap as a scowl replaces her dead expression. "what do you want?"

"what are you doing?"

"does it hurt you when you see me and like... not do anything to annoy me?"

"yes, actually. i like talking to you."

"i just wanted to talk to ciara."

"now you can talk to me."

"but i don't really feel like doing that."

"why not? i'm here in front of you and not behind a phone screen. where's ciara?" he looks around, then at her with a beaming smile. "oh, would you look at that? not here."

"because she isn't an f1 driver."

"still not here to talk to you and provide you the joys of interacting with somebody face to face."

"max."

"(y/n)."

"times like these i remember you've got a younger sister."

"what's that got to do with anything?"

"you've mastered the practice of being annoying growing up, obviously. you're such a pro at it."

"how can you say that?" max cries, hand on his chest to feign hurt over her words. "i'm not annoying. please take that back!"

"you realise you made me stop my conversation with my lovely sisters because you saw me sitting alone."

max reaches out and pinches her cheek, grinning when blood rushes to her cheeks. "you were just looking a little lonely. just wanted to make you feel a little accommodated to, that's all."

she stares at him, lips pressed together. "okay, that's actually pretty sweet. i kinda feel bad now.”

“and you should!” max frowns, folding his arms over his chest. he leans back into his seat and rests one leg over the other. “you’re mean, you know?”

“i’m an oldest sister.”

“i’m an oldest brother.”

“i have three younger siblings that made me wanna shave my head bald.”

“that’s kinda crazy.”

“i know,” she sighs tiredly. but she smiles slightly. “but it’s kinda nice. with oscar and logan taking over those responsibilities growing up, we never had a moment of boredom at home.”

“cute!” max smiles. “if i lived with you growing up, you might’ve actually run away for good.”

“i could run away for good now if you’d like.”

“seb wouldn’t like that.”

“you’d have to deal with it. i’ll leave a note on my team’s fridge with your name on it.”

“you need to put the reason underneath. if not, your team will think you’re just naming the most handsomest driver on the grid,” max shakes his head in disappointment. “don’t wanna give off the wrong idea, you know?”

“if you say ‘handsomest’, it doesn’t need a ‘most’ before it,” she says, lips parted slightly at the atrocious grammar. if there’s one thing she can’t stand, it’s most definitely the reigning world champion making simply grammar mistakes. “you should get more sleep.”

“i do! i slept like 10 hours last night!”

“somehow i find that hard to believe with the bags under your eyes.”

“what are you two bickering about?” a hand lands itself on the back of her chair. carlos stands next to her with one hand on his hip. “i could hear you from the hallways.”

“damn, you should really keep it down, max,” she chuckles, sending him a shocked look before she clasps her hands together and rests it on her stomach. “you’re too loud.”

“i’m sure he meant you. you like… swallowed a mic as a kid,” max scoffs. he looks up at carlos. “tell me she was louder than me.”

carlos sighs. “you were loud on the same level, i believe.”

"see? i told you."

"you're moving in with logan?" alex's jaw drops, the tiktok video no his phone left to play on repeat as the younger girl dropped the news that logan's moving into her apartment. "mate, what?"

she looks up at him with a confused stare. "what?"

"i thought you said you didn't want people talking about you like that?" alex asks, raising an eyebrow. "people will definitely talk if you move in with a man."

she presses her lips together. "you've got a point, i suppose. but logan's my best friend. we've been talking about moving in together forever! since i was 15!"

"i'm just looking out for you, kid. you should really think this through," alex sighs as he slumps his shoulders. of course, he knows just how close she and logan are on a day-to-day basis. but people tend to be quite ruthless with women and he just can't see this going any other way. "you know how people are."

she sighs, shaking her head. "i don't know. i just don't think people would pay attention to that aspect of my life. i still deserve to make decisions that wouldn't be at risk of scrutiny, right?"

she takes a step forward towards alex. she hadn't exactly thought of the public implications that this would cause her. all she knew was that they'd talked about this for years and were ecstatic when logan shyly brought up their conversation from years ago.

"that's the basic that we all hope for," alex frowns. "but you know how people are. you've seen how they treat you just being here. imagine the chaos."

"maybe i'll just keep it under wraps and hope for the best," she suggests with a small smile on her face. "that could work, right? i don't wanna have to put down something i spent forever talking about."

"if you can keep it under wraps, i applaud you," alex smiles, slinging an arm around her shoulders. "and i thought you've had enough of men - why are you still moving in with one?"

"to save money, really," she smiles. "and with kidnapper and stubby at home... i think living with another person is best."

"but doesn't logan like dogs more?"

"yeah, but kidnapper's taken a very weird liking to him. he doesn't wanna admit, but i know logan really likes kidnapper a lot."

"typical logan, really."

"you'd be surprised how much feelings that loser's holding in."

"oh?" alex smiles mischievously. "tell me more?"

"nice try," she scoffs with an eye roll. "i'm not spilling the beans about logan's love life. that's lore you've got to unlock the longer you race with him. just hope he's feeling friendly enough to share, yes?"

"so true," alex frowns. "but what if he's not friendly enough? means you are my only source for material to piss him off with. so, 'fess up!"

"can't betray my best friend like that, i fear," she frowns. though, her smile grows slowly. "but i can be bribed."

a scowl carves her face as she stares at the roll-in whiteboard with pictures held up against it with sesame street magnets. she sinks into the plastic chair she's given and tilts her head at the men gathered around her.

"and that's why i think you should get the same car as me," lando says simply, recapping the marker in his hands. he turns to her with a proud smile after his presentation.

her lips part. "so that we can matchy and..."

"and fuel rumours," lando repeats. "i'm involved in too little drama this year. it's always 'no wins' this, and 'no podiums' that... i want more."

"that's not a very good argument," she answers slowly, confusion contorting her face that almost makes alex laugh. "i said that i want an easy car, not a supercar. i've made that clear to almost everyone on the grid, yes?"

"yeah, but like," lando whines, throwing his head back as he stomps a foot into the ground. "seriously? you can't do this one thing for me? i'm asking you a favour!"

"to spend big money on a supercar i have to drive like it's made of glass!" she laughs dryly, hands thrown in the air in disbelief. she looks around at the men that have forcefully pulled her out of her garage and put her in this private room, in this plastic chair when she could've been taking a power nap. "is this what i'm here for? you lot are trying to convince me to finally purchase a car?"

"as per logan's request," alex shrugs, sipping on his juice box. "he said you've been putting it off all year. the season's about to end."

"and you listened to that nonce?" she cries, pinching the bridge of her nose. "you guys are absolutely unbelievable. i can't believe i'm wasting my time here!"

george, sitting next to her with a picture in hand, points at the whiteboard timidly. "i really put in a lot of thought about a car you should get," he says softly, looking slightly disappointed that she's caught on a lot faster than they predicted. "can i at least show it to you? i don't have to present."

"aw, george," she sighs, shaking her head. "it's not another supercar, is it?"

"it's not, i promise!" he perks up with a small smile on his face. he turns to lando with a small scowl. "only lando did this presentation with his best interests in mind. alex and i took the task seriously - just hear us out!"

she looks between george and alex, contemplating if the brit is telling the truth. instead of getting up like she had initially planned, she leans back into her seat. "fine. if it's anything like lando's, i'm leaving immediately. i don't care who has yet to present."

"but this ferrari looks so pretty," charles frowns, turning the picture in his hand to show it to her. "it's matte black and all. i thought we could match."

"that is also a supercar."

"he's presenting last, so i really don't care what he says," george mutters, shoving lando away from the whiteboard. he picks up a big bird magnet and pastes his picture between lando and max's proposal. "so, i think you should get this super cute toyota car."

taglist: @wcnorris @treehouse-mouse @laura-naruto-fan1998 @mindless-rock @inejismywife @vellicora @leilanixx @meadhgbcavanagh @2bormaybenot @ironmaiden1313 @angsthology @cherry-piee @christianpulisic10 @elliegrey2803 @cashtons-wife @love4lando @sadg3 @bborra @a10vely-yutazen @mellowarcadefun @glitterf1 @megatrilss1885 @peqch-pie @gentlyweeps-world @woozarts

[airybcby]

જ⁀♡⊹｡° i can still see you

( bachira meguru x gn! reader )

♡ a/n — for my new series :)

♡ content — bachira meguru x gn! reader, gn! reader, friends to lovers, established relationship, you can infer they're engaged at the end :) , mentions of bachira's demon, set before blue lock then goes to when he's playing pro soccer, made this with him being 20+ in my mind

♡ synopsis — Bachira Meguru didn’t need to be part of other people's world all those years ago. He had always been destined to make his own, and you had been with him every step of the way.

The sharp whistle of the coach’s signal echoed across the field, but it didn’t faze Bachira. He’d grown used to its bite, to the way it demanded more from him than he was allowed to give. His teammates moved like clockwork around him—predictable, synchronized, and utterly boring.

He saw opportunities they never did, tiny gaps in their defense that begged to be exploited. But no one ever passed him the ball. When he waved, calling for it, they ignored him or chose someone else.

“Stop trying to show off, Bachira,” one teammate sneered after a scrimmage. “This isn’t street soccer.”

Bachira didn’t answer. He never did. He just smiled, letting their words roll off him, though it stung more than he cared to admit.

From the bleachers, he caught sight of you, the only person who never looked at him like he didn’t belong. You sat with your chin resting on your hands, watching him intently like you always did, and when his gaze met yours, you waved.

The smile that tugged at his lips this time was real.

“You shouldn’t let them get to you, you know,” you said later, sitting cross-legged on the grass beside him. The team had long since cleared out, but Bachira lingered. He always did. It was as if he couldn’t leave the field until it felt like his, even if only for a moment.

“I’m not letting them get to me,” he replied, his voice light, but you saw the way his fingers picked at the edge of his shoelaces. “I don’t need them anyway. I’ve got my monster.”

“Your monster,” you echoed, leaning back on your palms. “What’s it saying today?”

Bachira tilted his head, like he was listening to something only he could hear. “It says I’m right. That I’m better off alone.”

You frowned. “Meguru, that’s not true.”

He shrugged, but the motion felt hollow. “Maybe it is. They don’t want me here. They think I’m weird, right? Maybe I don’t belong.”

The words were soft, quieter than he usually spoke, and they made your chest ache.

“You don’t belong with them,” you said firmly, and his head shot up to look at you. “You’re better than that.”

A laugh bubbled from his lips, and it was bright, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “You always say that. Better than what?”

“Better than their small minds,” you shot back. “Better than this boring little team that doesn’t know how lucky they are to have you.”

His smile faltered for the briefest moment, replaced by something softer, something almost vulnerable.

“You really think that?”

You leaned forward, your voice steady and sure. “I know that. You’re not like them, Meguru, and that’s not a bad thing. One day, someone’s going to see what makes you special. Someone besides me.”

His laugh this time was genuine. “Someone besides you? Impossible.”

You smiled, nudging his shoulder with yours. “You’ll see. And when it happens, I’ll be the first one cheering for you. Always.”

Bachira’s golden eyes sparkled under the fading sunlight, and the grin on his face stretched wide. It wasn’t the same grin he used to mask his pain—it was the kind of smile he reserved only for you.

He didn’t say anything back, but the way his shoulder lingered against yours told you everything you needed to know.

The crowd erupted as the ball sailed past the goalkeeper, slamming into the back of the net with precision and flair. Another goal for FC Barcha, courtesy of Bachira Meguru.

The stadium roared with chants of his name, the commentators losing their minds over his second goal of the night. His teammates rushed toward him, arms outstretched, ready to celebrate, but Bachira was already moving, sprinting past them all.

His golden eyes scanned the VIP section, searching, and when they landed on you, his grin widened into something radiant, something that belonged to no one else but you.

He stopped in the middle of the field, ignoring the chaos around him, and pointed at his heart with two fingers, tapping twice. Then, he turned his hand and pointed directly at you.

You stood there, hands cupped over your mouth, tears already pricking at the corners of your eyes. The ring on your finger caught the stadium lights, sparkling like a star, and when you started clapping, the entire section followed your lead.

You were the first one to cheer for him—just like you always had been.

Bachira’s teammates finally caught up to him, tackling him into a celebratory hug, but his gaze stayed locked on you. Through all the noise, through all the glory of the game, there was only one person who truly mattered.

He didn’t need to be part of their world all those years ago. He had always been destined to make his own, and you had been with him every step of the way.

meguru bachira they could never make me hate you

likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated!

[hazbinshusk]

day twenty-five of salem's unofficial attempt at kinktober: aftercare (huskerdust x reader)

a/n: this is the official end of the kinktober fic series! I really hope you all enjoyed it, because I had a lot of fun writing it. A masterlist for the whole series will be out tomorrow for you to check out if you missed any :) thanks for reading!

+ + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + +

Husk’s fur is soft and so deliciously warm against your cheek, tickling at your bare skin. You snuggle into his chest lazily, humming contentedly as he wraps his arms around your waist, claws scratching lightly at the small of your back. You can feel the feathered end of his tail batting softly against your calf, and you groan, long and low, as you feel heat press up between your legs. A soft snicker sounds at your reaction.

“Feel good, sugar?”

“Mmm-hmm,” you nod, rubbing your cheek deeper into Husk’s chest fluff. You both feel and hear his chuckle, feel his lips brush against the top of your head. “Only you would have a towel warmer in your bathroom.”

You can see Angel grin through the mirror on his vanity, and he presses the towel more firmly up between your thighs, wiping cum gently from your flesh. You hear the muffled thump of the towel hitting the floor when he tosses it towards the open bathroom door. Another towel replaces it, the damp warmth immediately beginning to ease the pleasant ache out of you. The heat borders on a gentle burn, and Angel’s hand is cool in comparison as he smooths it down over the back of your thigh, gently encouraging you to squeeze your legs around the towel.

“Best way ta get stage make up off,” he says with a shrug and a small smile. “And cum outta fur. Jus’ an added benefit that it feels so damn good after Huskie here’s had ya bent in half for the better part of an hour. Ya welcome.”

Husk’s laugh is low, light and almost giddy, the vibrations of it bouncing you against his chest and sinking into your skin the same way the heat of the towel does. The bartender lifts an arm from your waist and holds it welcomingly out to your other partner. “C’mere, asshole.”

Angel giggles, and you feel the mattress sink slightly as Angel climbs onto it beside you. You shift over against Husk’s chest to make room for him, pouting childishly as it loosens Husk’s other arm from around your waist. You reach down and pull it back around you, nuzzling into his ribs. Husk snickers into the kiss he’s sharing with Angel, pulling away to bump his nose against your hair. A purr rumbles through him, vibrating against your chest.

“Fuck, ya adorable,” Angel says with an amused eye roll, tucking his head up against Husk’s shoulder. The bartender’s wing hooks around him gently, cradling him more securely against his side. “Seriously, I’d call ya a baby, but I jus’ saw everything ya just did to our sweet kitty and it made me blush.”

You scoff a quiet laugh, and Husk’s arm tightens around you, his claws tracing random shapes on your bare hip idly. “High praise from the pro.”

“Ya’d make a killin’ in the industry, dollface,” Angel teases, one hand combing through the fur of Husk’s chest, rearranging it into something a little neater. Another hand ghosts over the curve of your waist, and you reach up to take hold of it, intertwining your fingers. “Those pipes and filthy mouth ya got on ya could make the devil blush.”

Husk bumps his nose against Angel’s hair, brushing a kiss over his forehead. “Pretty sure they did. His room ain’t too far from here.”

“Oh my God…”  you groan, leaning forward and burying your face in the spot where Angel’s chest fluff is pressed against Husk’s. It tickles at your burning cheeks, muffling their laughter. “Shut up.”

“Aww, but I thought ya liked to hear the kitty purr,” Angel taunts, and his laughter doubles as Husk pinches him in your defence. “Ooh, if ya gonna hurt me, Huskie, ya gotta mean it.”

“Hush up, you.” Husk growls playfully, kissing Angel again. This one is slower, deeper, and you rest your cheek on your hand, watching the two of them with a small, happy smile. Husk’s ear twitches when your sigh tickles the edge of it. Husk withdraws slowly, pressing his lips back against Angel’s in a few more fleeting touches. The spider’s cheeks warm under his baby-soft fur despite himself at the raw affection. You lean forward to press a kiss to Angel’s shoulder, and Husk touches his lips to your temple as you do, the cold of his nose against your hair. “He’s right, though. Got a hell of a set of lungs there, sweetness.”

“Are you complaining?” you ask with a smirk, trailing a hand down his stomach teasingly. Husk jerks under your touch as your fingers graze the soft fur above his cock, choking on a breathless laugh at the sudden stimulation. He catches hold of your wrist, bringing your hand safely back up and pressing a kiss to your palm.

“Never.”

“Good,” you grin, kissing him. Husk groans lightly into it, teasing your still-swollen bottom lip with the rough line of his tongue. “”Cause you’re gonna have to gag me if you want to shut me up.”

“Ooh, now there’s an idea,” Angel hums, slinging a long leg over the two of you. He tucks himself more comfortably into Husk’s side, squeezing your hand. “I got a couple o’ different—”

“Slow down, baby,” Husk croons, letting his head fall back onto the pillow. You begin dusting soft, calming kisses to the bartender’s throat just as Angel reaches up to scratch fingers through the fur behind his ear, and Husk groans happily, eyes closing. “Let us catch our breath first. Not all of us have got your refractory time.”

“Spoil sport,” Angel pouts playfully. “’s okay, kitty. You sleep; me and our girl here can brainstorm on all the fun things we can do when you wake up.”

Husk hums in tired amusement, and you shiver as he tucks his arm up over your waist, claws spreading possessively over your stomach. He buries his nose in your hair and sighs contentedly. “Should I be worried.”

“Oh, definitely,” you grin, and Angel winks at you. “I saw some things in that Lust Ring catalogue Angel brought I really want to try out.”

[81pastrys]

The Other Verstappen

Part 8 / 10

Summary— Her time is running out, meaning Lando and Charles have to help her choose a team

Warnings— mentions of a panic attack

A/N— McLaren or redbull 👀

Series List

Divider @bernardsbendystraws

Honestly both deals are really good. The only two people I want to talk with about it, are literally not even supposed to know about it. Lando and Max. Lando knows RedBull offered me a contract along with other teams, and Max knows McLaren has offered me a deal among other teams, but they don’t know about what their own teams have offered me.

There a list of pros and cons, front and back, up and down, for both. It’s only between RedBull and McLaren though. The summer break is around the corner and I lose it at the race. If I don’t make a decision over the summer they’ll both revoke their offers.

After the race I’m throwing my helmet and rushing to my drivers room, I felt like I couldn’t breathe. I unzip my suit take off whatever I can while staying modest and not showing too much. Charles knocks frantically and opens the door.

“What happened?” He asked, I never act this way after a race, especially not ones I’m too 5 and ecstatic for. “You can’t talk to me, please talk to me.” Charles and I had distanced when I refused the Ferrari contract.

“I need to pick a team or they’re revoking their offers.” I say, heaving through breaths as Charles hands me water. “McLaren and RedBull.” I say. I can finally fucking tell someone.

“What?!” Charles was in disbelief like I was. “This is not a paddock kind of conversation, let’s get you cleaned up.” He calmed himself down to notice I wasn’t able to even talk much and we had media to do.

Once we finish at the paddock, Charles joins me in my hotel room so we can talk. I explain to him my dilemma and he barely caught any of it from how fast I was talking.

“So with RedBull you get the seat for next season, but with McLaren you sit out as a reserve and then get the seat?” Charles confirmed. I nod my head and he shakes his. “RedBull was made for a Verstappen, but McLaren is quickly progressing.”

“I know, you don’t think I know that!” I groan. “My issue is Jos and my other issue is I don’t want to disappoint my future boyfriend or his best friend.” We both go quiet when a door creaks. We stay still and I hear someone clear their throat.

“Disappoint who?” Lando asked low. Our rooms were connected, fuck. “Don’t worry love, we were told.” He followed with.

“I haven’t signed anything, I swear, I don’t know what I want to do.” Both men look at each other and at me, nearly in hysterics over the whole situation.

“Let’s take a minute, a deep breath, and we can talk.” Lando said, his voice soothing the weight. “Your only other consideration is RedBull?” Lando confirms when I’ve calmed my breathing and heart rate.

“Yes.” I squeak out, giving him a terrified look. He grabs a notepad and pen from the desk and hands it to me. He tells me to write down the pros and cons of each team. “Lan-“

“Ah, they’re all in your head, but have you bothered to write them out?” He asked firm but soft. “The lists might look different on paper than in your mind.”

I sigh and get to work, using two separate pieces for the different teams. As I could’ve told Lando, McLaren has less cons and more pros and RedBull is the opposite.

“Now, which team would you be happy to drive for, not considering any of the cons.” He held the papers up only showing the pros I wrote. I point to RedBull. “Why?”

“I feel like a fucking child.” I snap. “I want to drive with Max! I don’t want to see Jos. I want to drive with you, but I’m afraid Oscar can outperform you and I’ll replace you or the opposite and piss Oscar off. There’s literally no winning here!” The men look at me in shock.

“Pick from a jar.” Charles joked. Which it was not the time. “I’m kidding, look at other factors, what team principals do you like more, which one is more inclusive to a female driver, are the mechanics good people. It’s not just about the drivers.”

Charles - 1 Lando - 0

Nah tbh Lando was being a bit too stupid there 😭

@il0vereadingstuff @angelluv16 @pandabiiissh @kallanfiona @widow-cevans @charlesgirl16 @itznotsophia

[msbigredmachine]

You Again (Roman Reigns) - Part 1

That awkward moment when the biggest star in pro wrestling happens to be your high school bully…and he’s in your office. A 2-part series.

Pairing: Bully!Roman Reigns x OC

Word Count: 2,500

Warning: Hints of smut, stalking, bullying

FINALLY! I've fleshed out this WIP. I'm so proud of myself! Hope you like it. Enjoy!

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

Evelyn squeezed into the crowded elevator, relieved that she’d gotten in before the doors could slide shut. She combed her fingers through her wig, smoothed down her blouse and took a deep breath as another work day that came too soon was about to start. Stepping out on the fifth floor, she fixed her face like she didn’t wish she was back in Cancun sipping on some Piña Coladas at her beachfront cabana. 

The offices of Wow Magazine buzzed left and right, with employees and staff bustling about as the latest edition of the fashion Bible was published on print and digital media today. Evelyn plastered a smile on her face and accepted their glowing compliments on her outfit. Dressed in a cute off-white sweater blouse, a white pleated miniskirt with sheer Fendi ‘F’ tights and black stilettos, the ‘Editor-in-Chief’ nameplate pasted to her door reminded her every day that she couldn’t be caught dead looking a mess at any time.

“Latte for Miss Ashton?” Her assistant, Faith, entered her office ten minutes later with her usual Starbucks order. “Welcome back, boss. You look refreshed and ready to go already!” she chirped, setting the Styrofoam cup down on the mahogany desk. "How was your vacation?" 

"Way too short. I wanna go back already," she replied. "So what's on my agenda today before I change my mind and get outta here?"

Faith laughed and scrolled down her iPad. "You got a meeting at ten with Tessa on September’s feature cover. Your lunch meeting with Roger from Finance is at noon, then there’s a couple of itineraries that need your approval. I’ve already emailed them to you."

"Sounds good." Evelyn took a sip of her coffee and chatted some more with Faith before she was left alone to get settled. At five to ten, she was walking to the conference room when she caught a glimpse of a tall, powerfully built man standing at the reception area, his back only visible in profile. His well-tailored pinstripe gray Gucci suit was a perfect fit on his big frame and all the musculature underneath. A jolt of interest pinged through her for this attractive stranger, but it was quickly replaced by shock as he turned around and his dark eyes met hers.

This was no stranger at all. It was her worst nightmare!

It had been several years, but there was no mistaking that face. It was bad enough that she’d had to look at it every single day for much of her teen years. Said face also haunted her TV on Friday nights, and given how he'd made her life miserable, she couldn’t forget it if she tried.

Oh no. No, no…no!

She felt her stomach drop when his eyes widened. Fuck! He recognized her, too! She couldn’t tear her eyes away from his fiery stare as his lips formed her name.

���Evie?”

Hearing him address her by her shortened name snapped her temporary paralysis. Ducking her head, she almost stumbled in her heels as she rushed into the conference room and slammed the door shut. Flattening her back against it, she exhaled shakily, her heart racing at a million miles a minute as she struggled to process what she’d just seen.

More frightening was the sight of him walking into the conference room just a few moments later with Tessa, Wow’s Artistic Director, a cheery smile on her face as she announced,

“Ladies and gentlemen, allow me to introduce to you the cover star for September’s edition, WWE Superstar Roman Reigns!”

Focusing on the meeting was difficult. Staying professional was even tougher knowing her tormentor sat mere feet away, staring a hole through her the entire time. She wanted to throw up as Tessa gushed over the magazine’s newly-penned partnership with WWE, which came with a cover feature for its biggest star in their most popular edition of the year. This also meant that in just a few short weeks, Evelyn would have to see him again, as it was her job to oversee his photoshoot, wardrobe, and the interview itself. Even more nauseating was that Management was to hold a lavish yacht party this coming weekend celebrating the partnership with Joe as their special guest of honor. Clearly, a lot had transpired while she was away, and she didn’t like any of it one bit.

Neither Tessa nor Faith noticed her eagerness to get out of there when the meeting finally, thankfully ended. She quickly darted into the break room nearby and fought to catch her breath, hating that she was running around like a cornered rat. Luckily the room was empty, meaning no one could see her in her flustered state. She was known for her cool calm demeanor, but one asshole had just come into her world and turned it upside down. Again.

She couldn’t believe this! Why was the Lord testing her like this? 

Joe Anoa’i had single-handedly almost ruined her entire high school experience. For one, he made sure no boy came near her during her first three years. She was the constant butt of mean jokes thanks to his stupid football teammates, led by him and his twin cousins Jon and Josh Fatu. Her locker would often be spray-painted with derogatory names or overflowing with trash, and, at one horrific time, used condoms. She remembered the tears she’d cried after she had to clean up that disgusting stuff all by herself in front of everyone.

When her father was transferred out of state right before her senior year began, she had been beyond relieved. Most teenagers would have been devastated to be uprooted for their last year in high school, but Evelyn was ecstatic. She was never going to see Joe or his cronies again, and it was the chance to finally have a normal high school experience.

She could vividly recall the last time she saw him. She'd been so happy at the prospect of escape that, when he paused in the hall to watch her clean out her locker for the last time, she made full eye contact with him for once and laughed in his face.

"Sayonara, bitch," Evie cheesed, smiling smugly when a scowl darkened his irritatingly handsome face. 

"What are you doing?" he demanded, walking up to her, his expression intense.

"Gettin’ away from you and this fucking school forever. You’ll never see me again and I don’t gotta deal with your bullshit anymore," she replied coldly. Stepping past him, she almost fell over when he grabbed her arm and yanked her back, colliding their bodies together.

Joe leaned down, towering over her petite figure, and growled, "Oh sweetheart, trust me when I say you'll see me again. I’ll find you wherever you are, no matter how long it takes. That’s a promise."

Evelyn recalled his raspy last words with trepidation. That he had indeed found her, just like he’d threatened, spooked her to no end.

Behind her, the door clicked open, and the air in the room changed. Shifted. Charged with a palpable tension. Through the reflection of a nearby window, she saw Joe shut the door behind him. With her heart in her throat, she kept her back turned and did her best to ignore his approaching footsteps. But with only a few long strides, he was standing right behind her, boxing her in his much bigger body. She hated the way her skin prickled and the fine hairs on the back of her neck stood on end. Blood pounded in her ears as his familiar scent reached her nose, triggering memories of when he had mercilessly tortured her in school. She stiffened at the reminder and struggled with her body's response to his closeness. Close enough now that there was very little room for her to escape even if she wanted to.

His hard chest molded against her back. His thick, muscular arms stretched across the table she leaned on from both sides, trapping her. She could feel every inch of him, every muscle attached to her like steel to a magnet. Her breath caught, torn between shoving him away and giving in to the arousal that pulsed through her body. When she felt his mouth close to her ear, a shiver coursed down her spine. 

"Evie," Joe breathed. His low, husky voice uttering her name set off the butterflies in her belly and spread heat through her body. As his hands moved to her shoulders, her skin broke out into goosebumps and her nipples hardened into sharp little points, chafing almost painfully against the lace of her bra. Despite her body's involuntary reaction, she held herself rigidly, staring straight ahead, giving no indication that she could feel anything.

"I thought I was imagining things," he went on in that gruff, yet velvety tone, "But no. I'd know that face anywhere.”

“Oh look, the leader of N’Stink is here. Long time no see,” Evelyn finally spoke up, her tone cold and clipped.

“Leader of what?” he laughed. She didn't see what was so funny.

“That was my name for you and the evil twins. Jon and Josh. I remember you all,” she said.

Joe smirked. “Who knew little Evie Ashton was so creative.”

“I’m not ‘Evie’ anymore. I go by Evelyn now.” She dared to glare up at him and despised the way her knees weakened immediately. He was more gorgeous than he was twenty years ago and was still able to effortlessly awaken her body with just one look, with just his proximity. It reminded her how, as a teen, she had been so confused and embarrassed by the way she simultaneously loathed him and desired him. Unfortunately nothing about that had changed. 

"This is the other reason I knew it was you." His mouth was by her ear again. To her complete shock, he pressed himself against her, and she sucked in a breath as what felt like an impressive erection lightly prodded her backside. "All you had to do was come near me and you had me so hard I couldn’t walk straight sometimes."

Hold up!

Her eyes went wide. “What are you talking about?”

“You have no damn idea how much I wanted you, Evie,” Joe elaborated, licking his lips as he gazed at her. “I wanted a taste of them soft lips. Your tits. Your pussy. Hell, I still do.”

Evelyn clenched her thighs together, failing to stop the rush of warmth between her legs at his unexpected words. “You’re fuckin’ lying,” she stammered. This coming from the same guy who regularly made fun of her skinny frame and horn-rimmed glasses back then. Total bullshit!

He shook his head. “I'm not. You feel that, don’t you?” He grinded against her again, nudging the back of her skirt a little higher up her thighs. She opened her mouth to tell him to get the fuck away from her, but all that came out was a whimper. She glanced down, seeing his strong, tanned hands now grasping her hips, lining up her ass directly against his crotch. Mindlessly, she pressed back against him, her body giving into the urges despite her brain’s protests. Lust coursed through her, drugging her into docility. The same thing kept happening back in high school. Even when she was furious at him, he'd affected her so strongly on a physical level that she felt almost drunk when she was around him. What was worse, he was the first and only boy who had turned her on like that without even lifting a finger. Not even Chuka, her ex-fiancé, ever set her body on fire like this, despite his numerous attempts. 

As a teenager, she would daydream during the day, and at night, laying alone in her bed, fantasize about being with Joe Anoa’i…wondered what it would feel like, imagined the heights he could take her to if they ever had sex…

Encouraged by her complacency, Joe’s lips trailed the crook of her neck, and her head tilted back reflexively. His steel length felt like it was branding her through her skirt. She panted heavily, air expelling in short bursts from her lungs as his mouth trailed ever closer, ghosting over her jawline and her cheek before finally landing on hers, sucking her bottom lip. For the life of her, she wondered why she didn’t push him away. Perhaps it was because she was starved for a man’s touch which had been missing for the past year. Or maybe because it was a kiss she’d dreamed of; a kiss that would set her ablaze and burn her from the inside out. It was the kiss she’d wanted for two decades but never got. Until now.

Evelyn could hear her inner, mentally-scarred teen scream for joy as she turned in his arms and kissed his soft lips back with a defeated moan. The energy between them had amplified tenfold, making her heart race, urging her to dive into him. Joe seemed to read her mind and, pushing her up against the table, slipped his tongue into her mouth, his hand leaving her waist to curl around her throat. It was the simplest, yet the kinkiest of touches which unleashed a tsunami between her thighs and another moan against his lips. She felt his dick pulse against her belly as the kiss became more urgent, hungrier. With a gentle nudge of his foot, he spread her legs wider apart, and her body jerked with surprise when he shoved his other hand inside her skirt, boldly cupping the mound protected by her panties.

“Just like I thought, you’re wet as fuck. Did I make you wet like this back then? Huh?” Joe goaded, his lips an inch from hers, making her feel every word he uttered. "Tell me."

Evelyn couldn’t stop her eyes from rolling back, or her body grinding against his fingers as they circled around the dampness on her underwear before tugging the satin material to the side. His hand on her neck slipped lower to grab her breast, fondling it in his large palm as his lips latched onto the side of her throat. It was an attack from all fronts and Evelyn was very much losing the fight.

Until his finger dipped inside her wetness, which her brain computed as one lascivious act too many and finally snapped her back to her senses.

“Okay, stop! Stop it!” she hissed in a panic, pushing him off her. She glanced around the room, hoping no one else was there as she adjusted her clothes, and then raced out of the room as fast as her heels could carry her, desperate to get away. She slammed her office door shut and did not come out again until he left.

On her desk, the invite to the yacht party taunted her in its fancy, elaborate lettering and graphics, a craftwork that would have impressed her if it didn’t make her want to vomit and run away forever, or better yet, book another flight to Cancun never to return.

How the fuck was she going to get through the week? 

And where the fuck was her vibrator when she needed it?

END OF PART ONE

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

Thoughts?

Credit to the owners of the pics and gifs.

🏷️: @jxtina-86 @wrestlingprincess80 @fame-ass-ers @southerngirl41 @alyyaanna @jstarr86 @murrylove @thewarlordsworld @mzv11 @nayys-world @hunnidmilly  @tribalhoochie @cyberdejos2 @papireigns-05  @harmshake @niknakbucks92 @captainwithoutmakingitlove @sovereigngoth @aisharmi @kennedi0818 @alichesmi @thesamoanqueen @questionable-behaviour @tribalchiefreigns @2-muchsauce @thatbxtchsblog @raya-hunter01  @marchi36753 @lovelysuccess @christinabae @wooahmiri @thatonecarebear @tabletheofhead @rheaanddamianfan @vebner37 @hanley1577 @princessesareforsuckers @-naturally @joannasteez @bbygirlky18 @lilucey @theninthwonder @melaninsugababy @chocovibesonly @msbluehaz3 @shes2real @trippinsorrows @scarlettnoir01 @heerah34 @empressdede @tbmotw @darkangelchronicles @visionarymode @marasdeathnote @aintnorainbows @meggylynnloves @shantinextdoor @femdisa @harlemblipster  @trc-punzel @afterdarkprincess @nbanenefrmdao @sassginaswanmills @purplehairgawdess @holisticcoach @girlwhogaf @royalkay23 @heyitsnajabrinee @stoner2k @reci1996 @catxo @iamimanim @lookmais @ts1mp0ne @lizzyd1ish @m3llowww @skyesthebomb @final1miya @kia1996 @randomuser0711 @yourtribalqueen @katymae12344 @that-one-anxious-mango @yana3sworld @caramelcleopatraa @truefant4sy @thetribalqueen @bhjszsdxc @paigereeder @christinabae @justazzi @maknaehyucks @mindairy @headoftheetable @truefant4sy @mscarter213 @ariiaeltheedonn @sageispunk @xbriexx @heauxvibez

[fookinhellcurlyyy]

Don't Panic, It's Just Another Monthly McDon't Sighting™ (Stunt Season Isn't Over Yet)

AKA: The Soccer Aid Promo Tour Disguised as Romance (Also, possibly the fake LT3 muse for the GP to pin on lol)

────────

I was debating on sharing this but I can already feel people would start asking about #McDon't in a bit (due to Zara's IGS indicating that she's at the Stereophonics show that L just posted).

I'm expecting at least one interaction per month leading up to Soccer Aid (and honestly, people should too—it might help ease the frustration when something does happen, because at this point, it's inevitable). I think I’ve mentioned this before, but I really believe they’re using this stunt to promote Soccer Aid this year, especially with L and Sam both participating.

Also, I think this is the best time to add this: just yesterday, @delicateperspective found a very curious article from Entertainment Daily which I also further looked into. Here's the one from The Sun:

(NOTE: Might either be related or unrelated—but still, CURIOUS.)

Long-serving celebrity booker Stefania Aleksander has left her full-time role after seven years, having also been mentioned in the BBC investigation into pro Giovanni Pernice’s alleged bullying of dance partner Amanda Abbington.

Stefania has been replaced by long-standing staffer Jasmine Fox and will now be working on ITV’s Soccer Aid.

But BBC sources insisted her departure as celebrity talent executive was not connected to any of these issues.

One told The Sun on Sunday: “Stefania worked on the series for a long time and she came under increasing pressure over the last couple of years.

“There was the fallout over Seann Walsh and Katya Jones being seen kissing, then the bust-up between Giovanni and Amanda, then the Graziano Di Prima and Zara McDermott kicking incident and finally the fallout over Wynne Evans making sexual comments.

A BBC Studios spokesman said: “Stefania remains a pivotal member of the Strictly production team, has already been involved with the upcoming series, and will return to work part-time on the show later in the summer.

“She stepped away from what is a full-time role to spend more time being a new mum and to suggest she has temporarily left Strictly for any other reason is false and unfair.”

TL;DR: Celeb booker Stefania left STRICTLY temporarily to "focus on being a mum" and work with SoccerAid for a bit. She will return to the show (to work part-time) late in the summer—possibly after wrapping up Soccer Aid.

You can see in Stefania's public linked in that she started working as a Celebrity Talent Executive for Soccer Aid 2025, and left BBC's Strictly Come Dancing this month (again, temporarily).

TERM DEFINITION:

(I'm too lazy to put it all together so thanks Google lol But this is basically what they do as per research)

Celebrity talent executives and talent bookers both work in the entertainment industry, but they have slightly different roles:

Celebrity Talent Executives focus on managing relationships with high-profile talent. They often handle negotiations, casting decisions, partnerships, and big-picture planning for events, shows, or campaigns. Their goal is to bring the right celebrity into the right project, aligning both creative and business goals.

Talent Bookers are responsible for securing celebrities or performers for appearances—like talk shows, award shows, festivals, or brand events. They reach out to representatives, coordinate schedules, and finalize logistics to ensure the talent actually shows up and fits the purpose of the event or production.

In short: Talent execs handle strategy and relationships, while bookers handle outreach and scheduling.

────────

I don’t think I need to elaborate on what the possible connection is—you probably already see what I'm getting at.

Bottom line: it's a very solid possible connection.

Take a breath, ignore the headlines (though yes, it’s being closely monitored—and wow, it’s messy lol, they can’t even get their stories or timelines straight), and just keep larrying on. It'll all be over soon.

[noorpersona]

just read part 6 of rivals w/ atsumu…. zoo wee mama 😮‍💨😮‍💨😮‍💨😮‍💨 ur just TEW good!!!!! jealous reader is always a fun read lol

ik u already posted an atsumu version for ur jealous series (?) but like… reverse situation where atsumu gets jealous when reader is seemingly cozying up with another guy that isn’t him in the context of rivals…. just throwin it out there hehehehehe

HEHEH THANK YOUU (i really went overboard cause UGHHHH)

I think I got what you're looking though 😩😙

Enjoy <333

--

Anon Asks: Atsumu (NSFW)

The afterparty wasn’t your scene. Not really.

The rooftop lounge glittered with low lighting and clinking glasses, soft music pulsing under conversation that ebbed and flowed like a tide. Some modern Tokyo bar—sleek and expensive, with panoramic views of the skyline and a dress code that required heels too high and smiles too sharp. It smelled like citrus spritz, fresh sweat, and ego.

You weren’t here to impress anyone. You were here for one reason only: to see him.

Atsumu had texted earlier. “Gotta wrap up post-game press, be there in a bit. Don’t let Sakusa talk shit about me too much before I arrive.”

You’d smiled at the message, slipped into your dress, and made your way to the party solo. The win had been solid—MSBY had taken it in four sets, with Atsumu playing one of his most controlled matches in recent memory. You’d seen it in his hands, the way he moved—calculated, sharp, barely restrained.

Now he was off doing damage control with a couple of reporters who liked to probe a little too far past what made it into the official soundbites. You didn’t mind. You knew the drill by now. After three years with Atsumu, patience wasn’t just a virtue—it was a requirement.

You were standing near the bar with a glass of sparkling wine when someone tapped your shoulder.

"Well damn. If it isn’t my fourth grade science partner.”

You turned, startled, before recognition settled into your chest like a stone dropping into still water.

He was taller now. Broader. The baby cheeks you remembered had been replaced by sharp cheekbones and a dimpled grin. His hair was dark and parted at the center, curling slightly at the ends, and he wore a lightweight sport coat like it was second nature.

“…Ryouta?” you asked, brows lifting.

“Bingo,” he grinned, gesturing between you both. “Still got the same face. Just—grown-up.”

You laughed before you could help it. “You’ve gotta be kidding me. What the hell are you doing here?”

“Work,” he said, leaning against the bar like he’d done it a hundred times. “I’m with the JVA now. Media and comms department. I’ve been helping with internal campaign stuff—athlete profiles, team outreach. It’s new, but… legit.”

“That’s wild. I haven’t seen you in—”

“Since we failed that volcano project because we couldn’t agree on what color lava actually was?” he finished, eyes twinkling.

Your smile widened. “Still think red is a cop-out.”

He laughed, the sound familiar and warm in a way that startled you. Nostalgia crept in gently, not overpowering but present enough to make the moment feel oddly suspended.

You moved off to the side together, drinks in hand, and the conversation flowed more easily than you expected. You talked about your shared elementary school, the time you got sent to detention for painting the school mascot purple, the fact that he used to cheat off your math tests until you started writing all your answers backwards just to mess with him.

He told you about how he fell into PR by accident after a marketing internship went well, how he never expected to end up in volleyball again, and how weird it was to be attending afterparties full of pro athletes he used to watch on TV.

“Can’t lie,” he said, glancing around, “you clean up scary well. I wouldn’t have recognized you if you didn’t still raise your eyebrows the same way.”

You snorted, sipping your drink. “That’s weirdly specific.”

“What can I say?” he teased. “Some things stick.”

You weren’t flirting. You knew that. And still—there was something easy about talking to someone who knew you before high school, before volleyball, before everything. Someone who saw you before you were who you were now.

You didn’t notice the way time was passing. But someone else did.

Atsumu arrived just under twenty minutes later, stepping into the lounge with the smooth confidence of someone who knew all eyes followed him when he moved. He wasn’t dressed to impress—just black slacks, an open collar, and the sleeves of his dress shirt rolled neatly to the elbow. He was flushed faintly from earlier exertion, hair still damp around the temples, and his gold eyes scanned the room with habitual sharpness.

They found you immediately.

He saw the guy. Saw how you were angled slightly toward him. Saw the way you laughed—small and genuine—and the way your drink was now halfway gone.

The look on Atsumu’s face was unreadable. His expression didn’t change, not really. But his jaw flexed once, and he didn’t walk toward you.

Not yet.

He stood off to the side, hands in his pockets, posture too casual to be natural. Watching. Measuring. Waiting.

Sakusa nudged him. “That your girlfriend talking to—whoever that is?”

Atsumu didn’t answer. Just narrowed his eyes slightly.

“Oh,” Sakusa said blandly. “You’re pissed.”

Atsumu gave him a look. “No shit.”

You didn’t notice the shift in the air until it was nearly too late.

Ryouta had just finished telling you about a disastrous campaign involving an accidentally misspelled slogan on a national team ad — something that went viral for all the wrong reasons — when you felt it. That creeping pressure, like someone watching too closely. Your back straightened slightly, instinct kicking in before your mind could catch up.

You turned your head.

And there he was.

Atsumu, maybe ten feet away. Staring.

Your breath hitched — not because you were doing anything wrong, but because of the look on his face. Tense. Composed. Gold eyes too steady. You knew that version of him. It meant a storm was brewing behind his tongue.

“Tsumu,” you called softly, lifting your hand.

He didn’t wave. Just approached, slow and deliberate, like a lion that had already caught the scent.

Ryouta followed your gaze and blinked. “Oh. That’s him, huh?”

You swallowed. “Yeah.”

Atsumu stopped beside you and tilted his head slightly at Ryouta, smile tight. “Don’t think we’ve met.”

Ryouta, oblivious or bold — maybe both — extended a hand. “Ryouta. Old friend. We were in the same class forever ago.”

Atsumu shook it. Too firmly. “Atsumu. Her boyfriend.”

The silence that followed stretched just long enough to sting.

Ryouta cleared his throat. “You played a great match tonight. Your control in the second set was impressive.”

Atsumu shrugged like he didn’t care. “Guess you’re real observant, then.”

You blinked at him. “Atsumu.”

He finally looked at you.

And that’s when you saw it — the tight coil in his shoulders, the barely-contained frustration just under his skin. Not fury. Not anger. But something older. Possessive. Dangerous. Familiar.

“I should let you two catch up,” Ryouta said, stepping back. “Good to see you again.”

You nodded, exhaling slowly as he walked away.

Atsumu didn’t say a word until Ryouta disappeared into the crowd.

Then:

“You flirt like that with every old classmate or was tonight a special fuckin’ occasion?”

Your mouth parted. “Excuse me?”

“You were hangin’ off him.”

“I was not.”

“You were laughing at everything he said like it was the funniest shit you’ve ever heard.”

“Because he was funny, Atsumu. I know him. We were just catching up.”

His jaw flexed again, but his voice didn’t raise. That was worse. “He was touchin’ your arm.”

“For like two seconds—”

“He was leanin’ in like he wanted to taste your breath.”

“God, you’re being so—”

“What?” he asked, stepping closer. “Jealous? Too fuckin’ bad.”

You stared up at him, your own pulse rising. “That’s not what this is about and you know it.”

“Oh really?”

“You’re pissed because you weren’t here when I walked in. Because I wasn’t waiting by the door like some show dog for you to collect.”

His eyes narrowed. “Watch it.”

“No,” you snapped, poking a finger into his chest. “You don’t get to make me feel guilty for talking to someone you’ve never even met.”

He laughed once, bitter. “I know exactly what I saw.”

“Yeah? Then maybe next time show up when you say you will.”

That landed. He didn’t move. Just stared, breathing slow and deliberate, hands curled into fists at his sides.

You held his gaze for a beat longer, then turned sharply. “I’m going to the bathroom.”

“Sure,” he said under his breath. “Run off.”

You didn’t answer. You didn’t have to. You stormed away, weaving through bodies and music until you reached the far hallway where the single-occupant restrooms were tucked behind a velvet rope.

You slipped inside, locked the door, and pressed your back to it, chest rising and falling in uneven beats.

Your heart thudded beneath your ribs — from the fight, from the tension, from something else. Your hands were shaking. Not out of fear. Out of the strange electric thrill that always came from standing toe to toe with him, matching him fire for fire.

You didn’t hear the knock.

You only heard the lock twist open.

And then he was there. Filling the doorway. Chest heaving. Eyes burning.

“I wasn’t done with you,” he said.

You swallowed. “You followed me.”

“I always follow you.”

You opened your mouth to argue, to fight again, but he was already stepping forward, pressing you back against the wall with nothing but the heat of his body.

His hand landed beside your head, palm flat against the door. His other hand found your waist.

“I didn’t like it,” he said, voice low. “The way he looked at you.”

“Tough,” you said, breath catching.

“You’re mine.”

“I know that.”

“Do you?”

Your lips parted—but then his mouth was already on yours.

You didn’t answer. Couldn’t.

Atsumu’s mouth was already moving against yours, hot and unrelenting. There was nothing gentle about it. It was claiming—raw and messy, built from jealousy and the way you argued like you wanted to be pinned. His teeth caught your bottom lip, and your hands flew up to grip his shirt, clutching tight, like that was the only way to stay grounded.

“Fuckin’ knew it,” he muttered against your mouth. “You like gettin’ me riled up.”

“You’re insane,” you whispered back, gasping when his hand dropped to your thigh, squeezing hard.

“Tell me to stop,” he growled, already bunching up the fabric of your dress, sliding it high enough to reveal your panties.

You didn’t. Wouldn’t.

The air between you throbbed with heat and unresolved anger, with the ache of being seen and wanted so completely.

He kissed you again, deeper this time, hand cupping the back of your neck as the other slipped between your thighs. His fingers grazed the edge of your underwear, dragging the thin fabric to the side with a kind of reverent disrespect that made your stomach drop.

“You’re soaked,” he said, voice dropping lower, teasing. “And here I thought you were mad at me.”

You could barely respond, breath fluttering out in a shaky half-laugh. “Shut up.”

“Yeah?” His fingers slid through your folds, spreading slick warmth across your skin. “Thought you might be drippin’ for him for a second.”

Your head thudded lightly against the door behind you. “Don’t start.”

He chuckled darkly, and then two fingers pressed into you in a single, smooth thrust.

You gasped—sharp and sudden—gripping his arm.

His palm settled against your mound, anchoring him as he pumped his fingers slowly, deliberately, curling them just enough to make your legs quake. His eyes never left your face, watching the way your expression crumbled with every stroke, every wet sound of him moving inside you.

“That's it,” he murmured, leaning close enough to kiss the corner of your mouth. “Let me hear you.”

“We’re in a bathroom—”

“So?” His thumb began to rub slow, tight circles around your clit. “You think anyone’s gonna say shit to me?”

Your reply melted into a moan, bitten off at the edge as you buried your face in his shoulder.

His rhythm never faltered. The fingers inside you curled and stroked with practiced ease, filling you just enough to ache for more. His thumb moved in time with your breath, coaxing you toward the edge with every flick, every grind.

You clenched around him without meaning to, the pressure building fast, too fast. Every nerve in your body felt lit from within, tethered to his hand and the molten heat of his mouth against your jaw.

“You gonna come?” he whispered. “Right here with my fingers in you?”

You nodded, desperate, thighs trembling.

“Then come, baby,” he said against your ear. “Let me feel it.”

You broke.

Your moan caught in your throat as your hips bucked forward, grinding down onto his hand. The orgasm rolled through you hard, your walls fluttering around his fingers, your breath ragged as you shook against him.

He didn’t stop until you physically twitched away from the overstimulation, gasping for air. He eased his fingers out slowly, eyes on your face the whole time, like he was cataloging every little tremor.

And then—without breaking eye contact—he brought his fingers to his mouth.

Sucked them clean.

You stared, stunned, pulse still pounding in your ears.

“You gonna behave now?” he asked, cocky and breathless.

“You’re an asshole,” you said, cheeks burning.

“Yeah,” he agreed, grinning as he reached to fix your underwear, then smoothed your dress down with slow, practiced hands. “But I’m your asshole.”

You glared, but your legs were still weak, your mouth still swollen from his kisses. He fixed your hair gently, ran his thumb under your eyes to smudge away anything left behind. It was intimate in a way that undid you more than the orgasm.

He kissed your temple, hand resting low on your waist. “You ready?”

You swallowed, nodded.

He opened the bathroom door with casual ease, and you stepped out together.

The party hadn’t changed—music still thumping softly, lights still low, voices still buzzing.

But your cheeks were flushed. Your lips slightly parted. Your hair just a little mussed.

And Ryouta was standing near the bar, talking to someone from his team.

He glanced up.

Saw you.

Saw Atsumu’s hand on your hip, the way he was guiding you out like he’d already won.

Ryouta blinked. Said nothing.

Atsumu didn’t even look his way. Just leaned down and murmured in your ear, “Let’s go home.”

You followed him without a word, legs still trembling with every step.

[gh0stly-pages]

Out of Our Minds (Part Three)

Ledger! Joker x Harley Quinn-esque f!reader (18+)

CW: swearing, mentions of violence

Words: 4.1k

Chapter Summary: The third session with the Joker, and as you try and delve into the man he is, you can't help the connection you feel. Seems he might feel it too...

previous part: part 2 | next part: part 4

Notes: Hello everyone! Apologies for the wait, took a bit longer because of Halloween, was having too much fun to write. But here we are! This series is def picking up the pace now and soon we will dive into some real chaos lol. Please enjoy :) (I love inputting bits of Arkham dialogue in these because i can >:) )

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On your way to work, it seems Gotham is in shambles. 

There seems to be some type of announcement going on, by someone from the GPD. You could care less, honestly, especially since you need to get to work before you’re late, but what piques your interest is the crowds of people. There is an obvious rift amongst them. Some of them hold signs displaying the infamous bat symbol, crying out in favor for Batman, it seems, some holding children at their hip who cry for the man they’ve lost. The other half push back against the pro-Batman crowd, yelling things like ‘murderer’ and ‘fraud’. The tension is so thick you can taste it. These people might tear each other apart.

Oh, if only Joker were here to see this. He’d never shut up.

A woman bumps into you, clutching a sign with that bat symbol painted on it, with words beneath it reading ‘come back’. You sneer, and she retreats back to her other Batman groupies. How could anyone get so worked up over a man in a mask? Take the mask off and we’re all messed up inside. Batman had worn the mask of a hero, parading around as Gotham’s salvation, and yet he killed people just like his enemies had. Like Joker had. Except Joker didn’t pretend to be someone he wasn’t. 

Mr. Dale may be right about keeping all this from Joker, but you can’t help but feel a twinge of guilt. He’s going to get out eventually and see all this mess. They can’t hide it from him forever. Even if he’s on house arrest for the rest of his damn life, he’s the Joker, and they won’t be able to stop him. They’re just scared. Scared that the Joker may have won. 

You walk through the city, broken into chaos, all the way to Arkham.

———————————————

This time when you enter Joker’s little conference room, he lacks his usual straitjacket, and you’re both surprised and relieved that your bosses actually listened to you. His asylum garb has been replaced with the usual Arkham patient outfit, an orange baggy shirt with matching orange pants. Immediately, as ashamed as you are, your eyes go to his arms, which are surprisingly lean and toned, probably from numerous fights. You trace his arms down to his hands, each of which have a separate handcuff linked to a man made circle jutting from the table. You look at every crinkle, every callus, every line. Human hands. Dangerous hands.

“Uh, doll, my eyes are up here, ya know.”

Shit. You look up into his eyes as you take your seat, shifting uncomfortably. “I’m… sorry, I was just-“ You try to search for an excuse, but it’s clear from the teasing look Joker gives you that he’s not looking for one. You flush. “I’m surprised they let you out of the jacket.” I’m surprised your hands are so normal. 

“Well, it certainly wasn’t from my good behavior,” he clucks, his tongue hitting the top of his mouth. “Did you ask them to get rid of it?”

You can’t tell if he’s angry or not. “I did.”

He breaks into his signature, manic grin. Not angry. Good. “I knew I liked you, doll.”

Joker doesn’t say ‘thank you’ or ‘I appreciate it’ but somehow, this is better. It’s probably as close as you’ll get to hearing those words from him and it ignites something in you. You feel proud of yourself. Proud that he’s proud of you. Before you can return his smile, you remember ‘hey, wait a fucking second, this is my patient The Joker we’re talking about here’. You settle for a small smile. Be professional. “Mr. J, I wanna start this session off by just saying I think we’re making some good progress-“

“Doctor y/n, you seem to have quite the fascination with my hands,” Joker interrupts, a giggle rising in his throat. 

Dammit. Were you looking at his hands again? You didn’t even fucking notice. You’re not trying to. You’re probably just a little shocked. Again, it’s like pulling back the curtain, getting a glimpse at the man behind the act. And there he sits, with such human looking hands. “Excuse me, I’m just…” You search for the words. “I’m not used to seeing you without being all wrapped in a jacket.”

“Well, ah, they’re just hands. Did ya think I’d have talons?”

“Maybe. Or maybe, like, robotic hands. Rocket launchers for hands. Something cooler.” Are you teasing him? Your patient? You might be teasing him, just a little.

At your teasing, his smile shifts sideways into a smirk, eyes thinning. “Cooler? What’s cool is, ah, what these hands have done. They’ve been the cause of the end of so many lives.” He tries to lace his hands together, but the handcuffs keep his arms too far apart, so his fingers touch only slightly. “Now, ah, where were we?”

You stumble to find the words. So much for professionalism. “R-right, sorry. I think we’re making real progress here. Yesterday was a good session, and I’m hoping today will follow suit.” You bring out your clipboard. Click your pen open. “Now, why don’t we pick up where we left off? We were analyzing your crimes-“

“Spectacles.”

“Whatever you wanna call em’. Now those are only one part of the man you call the Joker-“

“That is, ah, my name, doll face.”

You hold your hand up. “Let me finish. We haven’t talked about you. About this person you present as the Joker. And yes,” you say roughly, before he can cut you off again, “I know you say that you and this character you present are one in the same, but nobody is exactly the person they put out. I mean, you did say we all hide behind a facade. So, let’s talk about Joker, the one we see on TV getting the best of Batman.” You scribble a little picture of him, smiling wide and in his signature purple suit. Jutting your chin, you gestured for him to look at it. “This will be the outside Joker…” You do another little doodle, one of Joker without his makeup and in the Arkham garb. “And this will be the you in here.”

The Joker looks down at your drawings and bites the inside of his cheek. “Not much of a difference, doll face, except that I look even crappier in here.”

You roll your eyes. “Are you proud of the person that Gotham has come to know?”

“Define proud.”

“Do you feel a sense of satisfaction over the person you allow Gotham to see? This crazy clown figure?”

Joker tilts his head back, thinking, and you can’t help but stare intensely at his neck, tracing down his throat to his Adam’s apple, which moves as he swallows. Geez, what is up with you and the staring today? Luckily, he doesn’t think for long, tilting his head back down to look at you. “I’m just fine with whatever I showed to Gotham. And I don’t regret-tah one bit of it.” Looking all smug, he smirks. “I’m not proud of who I am, I relish it. Bask in it. The Clown Prince of Crime, they call me! Nothin’ better than that, doll. Means I’ve made a difference.”

“You’ve certainly made an impact, Mr. J. For better or for worse.”

“And whaddya get out of all that, doll? That I’m some kind of egotistical maniac?”

“Let me do the analyzing, please, Mr. J.”

He grunts. “Yeah, yeah,” he mumbles, and you can’t help but smile. “You say you’re proud, but clearly it’s not enough,” you tell him, scribbling notes underneath the doodle of him. “When you get out of here, you’d like to go back to all that, wouldn’t you? Go back to testing the B-Man?”

“Batsy and I just fit so well together, dolly. We’re meant to chase one another to the end of our days!”

If you can find him. “All the stuff you pulled then, did it really amount to anything if you want more?”

“Oh, doll, it’s not that I want more. I’m not just some kinda freak gettin’ a good fix when I cause havoc. My point just keeps needing to be made!” He winks at you. “Course, I know that if I get out of here I’ll have to behave.”

You seriously doubt Joker even knows the concept of behaving. “B-Man would just get you again, would he not?”

Joker cackles. He laughs at everything but you’re always confused when he laughs at something you don’t find remotely humorous. “That’s the fun part! He and I, we’re like a cat and mouse, like in those old cartoons. We’re just chasing each other in damn circles and, ah, the fun doesn’t-tah stop until one of us falls.” With a cruel smile, he flicks his fingers, as if toppling something over. “And I don’t intend to be the first to fall.”

“And after B-Man falls?”

“You’ll just have to wait and see, I suppose. Doesn’t sound very fun. Why, you got a soft spot for the Bat?”

“For Batsy?” Technically, you’re not supposed to be very vocal in your own opinions, especially when they do nothing to help, but wouldn’t it be good for Joker to know you’re with him on some things? Not that Joker has too much disdain in Batman, he clearly loves to mess with him, but obviously the two are on very different sides. You want to show Joker you stand with him. “Absolutely not. The Bat hasn’t done anything to benefit me. If anything I feel more… useless. This man in a mask gets to go around fighting criminals and gets praised and here I am busting my butt everyday and what do I get? Nothing. Absolutely nothing.” You clap a hand over your mouth. Way to go overboard. “I’m sorry, I’m rambling.”

The Joker, of course, doesn’t care that you rambled on. He looks amused. No, not just amused, he looks pleased. His whole face contorts into an evil grin. “Well well well, doll face, nowwww we’re talking. Why didn’t you tell me you loathed the Batman so much?”

“Didn’t think it important.”

“Well, ah, I find it important. Looks like we wanna both go after the Batman, don’t we?”

“Go after him?” Now it’s your turn to laugh. “Obviously I’m not going to do that.”

He scooches forward. “But you’d like to. Come on, doll, given the chance, wouldn’t you wanna, ah, take the Bat down?”

For some reason, you actually think about it. If you really did have the chance, would you want to bring down the Bat? He was already down now, obviously, but if you had had the chance before then, would you have taken B-Man down? Before you can even dive into it, you snap yourself out of it. Why would you even care to do all that in the first place? Imagine you, beating up Batman? You’re not crazy. “I’m not so sure about that.”

Joker shrugs. “That isn’t a no.”

Things are going far from where you need them to be. “Let’s take this conversation back to you, Mr. J. How about we talk about the Joker in here? Nothing left for you to do except sit and think. You’re not out causing havoc, you’ve been stripped of your weapons and your makeup, what do you feel about yourself now?”

Already, you can tell the Joker isn’t too fond of the question. He squirms uncomfortably in his chair, muttering things under his breath that all sound nonsensical to you. For some reason, you kinda like it. It’s about time you get under his skin too.  “I feel like I wanna hurt someone,” he answers, clenching his fists. “I just wanna get out there and get back to everything.”

“Okay… see, you’re angry at being in here, and you don’t know how to handle your emotions so you’re resorting to violence.” As much as that’s probably true, you’re almost sure that if you were stuck in Arkham, you’d wanna hurt a few people too but that won’t help.

“Violence solves a lot more problems than ya think.”

“Not mental ones. I think I’m seeing what’s going on here, Mr. J.”

Joker taps on the table, a random pattern of noise. “And that is?”

You point with your pen between the two Joker sketches. “Both these people have unresolved problems, problems coped with by violence. Plenty of people do this, but they don’t go around trying to make their points to the whole damn city. These huge acts of violence are outcries and you don’t even realize it. You have no one to turn to to sort your feelings out with and this is what the outcome is.” You look back up at him, and it’s clear he’s confused. “I told you at our last session, you need company. Someone you can relate to, empathize with, talk through these feelings with.”

He frowns. “And what about you, huh? You’re, ah, just as alone as me, not a soul to talk to, and yet you’re not blowing up hospitals.”

Will he ever quit trying to analyze you? “I have other means of coping, Mr. J. Whatever happened to you… it made you hurt. And this hurt, it turned you away from people, even though we need companionship. We seek attention and validation and yet I fear you’re seeking it in all the wrong ways.”

“Who says we need companionship?”

“Human nature. Our hearts. Your mental state,” you say harshly.

His tongue pushes out his scar as he licks the inside of his cheek. “Feistyyy. I like it when you’re all, ah, riled up.”

Joker was really pushing your buttons now, and it was worse that no matter how upset you got at him, he’d find some kind of enjoyment in it. You really couldn’t win some of the battles he put you up against. Yet, the purr in his voice made your cheeks heat. You could never tell when to be angered or enamored. “I really do think that whatever happened in your childhood resulted in your detachment from emotion, and a distrust in people, and this mix of the two… well, it hasn’t been the best for you.”

“So, whaddya suggest? I go mingle with some of the other Arkham patients? Spend some quality time together finger painting and singing Christmas carols?” His laugh comes out as a sharp exhale. “I don’t think friendship is gonna fix me, doll.”

“I wasn’t going to suggest any of that,” you assert. “I just think that isolating ourselves from not just people but also feelings, now that doesn’t get us anywhere good.”

“Clearly,” he giggles, lifting up his cuffed wrists. “But I’ve been doing just fine, doll, aside from this little incident of being locked up in here.”

It was like the Joker just considered Arkham some bump in the road before he could continue his anarchy. That wasn’t good. He couldn’t have his heart set on going back to taking down Batman, no matter how good his reason. Especially considering, well, Batman was nowhere to be seen. Gosh, you wish you could just tell him. Maybe he wouldn’t see it as motivation, maybe it would shut down all his ideas. There was just far too much risk with everything. Say something, say nothing. The Joker was a lot of uncertainties. “But you shouldn’t have to be locked up in here. You don’t have to be if you just try and listen to me. I really want you to get better.”

“I don’t need to get better,” he growls. “The way other people feel, it’s just a soft spot for others to exploit. I’m already winning because nobody has anything on me. Chaos stirs something inside me, isn’t that enough?”

“No, Mr. J, you need more than that,” you plead. Why is he so stubborn? “Just a little company can do wonders. Just some faith in someone.”

“So they can do what? Push me down on my knees like some kind of sinner, making me beg for forgiveness? Making me change my ways? You really are crazy if you believe that.”

Joker is impossible, really. You don’t know how else to get your message across, how to make him listen. So instead, you think back on your deal, take a deep breath, and give him a story.

“When I was ten years old, the kids at school all decided they hated me so much that they all pretended I didn’t exist. I’d try and approach people and… and they never even acknowledged me. It followed me all throughout the rest of my school years.” You mess with your coat, fidgeting with the buttons, not quite able to meet Joker’s gaze. “I know how it feels when people hurt you.”

You wait, wondering if the Joker will give you a story back. You’re surprised when he opens his mouth to speak. “Once, ah, when I was just starting out, one of the criminals I hired managed to sneak up on me, knocked me to the floor real good. Kept babblin’ on about how I was a freak, how I’d never amount to anything, the heel of his boot digging into my back.” He stops, taking a deep breath, and you wonder for a moment if he’s going to stop all together but he continues. “Course, with all his ramblin’, he failed to notice me grabbing a blade. I stabbed him right in the foot, and oh boy, did he scream. I gave him the nastiest beating of his life, I’m sure. Blood all over the floor. And right before I was done, I made sure to give him and I matching smiles. Die with a smile, no?” Joker holds his chin up. “I don’t need people. People don’t care.”

It’s only a single story yet you realize the Joker has so much behind him. So many incidents that seemed to have fueled the thunderous rage beneath his skin. This man, finding humor in the wickedness of the world, wanting to show that everyone is essentially just as rotten as he, has been torn apart over and over again. Society had crushed the both of you yet here you sat, a doctor, and there he sat before you, a madman. In your anger towards the world, you had sought to try and help it, and in his anger, he wanted to burn it all down. You still had hope left in people, he had let that all die away.

He said people didn’t care, but you cared. This was more than just a way towards a paycheck, you really did want to help him. That’s what you’d always wanted for every Arkham patient. Yet the others did not quite distrust people as much as Joker did. Joker didn’t have anyone for him. How was it that Batman, a murderer playing superhero, still had half the city on his side and yet everyone just wanted Joker to rot away in here? You think about yourself, and how much better you would feel if you did have someone, if you had been given love and support along your miserable journey. If you could give Joker the support you’d always wanted, well, maybe that would change something in him.

“We’re both pretty messed up, huh?” you finally say, deciding not to comment on anything specifically about Joker’s anecdote. No need to keep talking about something so horrific. Joker didn’t need that. He needed comfort. 

Joker blows air from his nose, smiling softly. “We are, aren’t we? Just a buncha freaks.”

“Freaks still need to stick with other freaks.”

“And who have you got exactly, Miss l/n?”

You freeze. Nobody. Absolutely nobody. He knows it. Yet for a moment you feel… well, embarrassed. Your hand creeps to your warming face, your eyes feel suddenly watery. You don’t have your parents anymore. No old friends from school or college, not that there were many to begin with. No coworker friends, shitty bosses. All you have is yourself and you hate it. 

Joker seems to notice that his comment didn’t go down well, and he holds up his hands like he’s gesturing for you to stop, his eyebrows knitting together in confusion. “Uh, doll, I didn’t mean to pry…”

“No, no, it’s fine…” You quickly wipe at your eyes with the back of your hand. “Just wasn’t expecting the question, I guess.”

“Right,” he mumbles. “It wasn’t, uh, meant to be an insult.”

You let your eyes flutter close for a second and take a nice, long breath in. When your eyes open again, you straighten yourself out, contemplating your next words. “I know how it feels to be alone, Mr. J. More than anything.” Your voice comes out as a whisper, your fingers drifting towards his own, which are splayed out on the table. He sits up very still, unmoving save for a twitch in his jaw, as he watches you place your hand on top of his. You’re not sure what you’re doing, but you need your point made. “I… I know how much you think you don’t need people, but people offer support and guidance, and if I could have some of that right now, for fucks sake, I would.” You sigh. “I don’t have a lot of friends.”

Joker’s tongue slowly traces along his chapped lips. You wish you knew what he was thinking. You hated how well he read you and you could hardly get anything on him. Finally, he speaks. “Well, you got one now.”

The Joker, a friend. It sounds like the stupidest thing in the entire world. This was someone who had hurt and killed and destroyed. Someone who was close to no one, the people around him with one purpose: to serve him. He had said how loyalty didn’t come for free, that it needed to be bought. If something so simple as loyalty was seen as a transaction to him, did he even comprehend the concept of companionship? He must have, at some point, whoever the man before the Joker was. But the person you were dealing with was not that man, you were dealing with Joker. Joker did not seem a man who connected with anyone yet he tells you how alike the two of you are, and you can’t help but believe it. Alone in the world, the two of you. Maybe he can’t yet bring himself to make a real connection with anyone but, goddammit, you wanted him to try.

Why not be alone together?

It would all be in hopes of helping him, you told yourself. Whatever relationship the two of you were forming. If he could have someone to talk to, not just in a professional sense, but someone who would really be there for him, you think that would help a lot.

That’s all this is. This is to help him.

You squeeze his hand. “I like the sound of that, Mr. J.”

—————

It started off as a joke, really. 

Joker didn’t want to be analyzed. The first night he had been brought into Arkham, he had been poked and prodded, as doctors tried to decipher what kinda pills to stuff him full of. Joker had tried to fight them off, but they had injected him with something that made him sluggish. Just a few hours later was when they had sent in all the psychiatrists to try and fix him. Joker didn’t need to be fixed. He was an agent of chaos, a force to be reckoned with, something they just couldn’t comprehend. Then you’d come along, and you were so lonely, and Joker liked toying with things that were easy to break. Except you’re nothing like the others. There’s something about you, this way that you interact with him, the way you don’t see him as some freak. When you stare at him, you don’t look at him like he’s a monster. It’s strange.

Joker doesn’t do friends. The term itself means nothing to him. It’s a meaningless word. Most words are meaningless to him, empty sayings. Yet when you look at him with those eyes, like he’s your equal rather than beneath you, Joker does feel something. Some kind of connection. He’s never thought about killing you, which says something. It’s the only way he can describe this feeling towards you, something other than the pure disdain he usually feels towards others. There is something… warm about you. Joker didn’t like it. Yet he let it happen anyways.

Long after you’re gone, when he’s strapped onto the metal slab the Arkham guards call a bed, he thinks on some of your words. You thought a companion would help him. Someone he could rely on. Someone who would truly be loyal.

He smiles wickedly to himself. You might just be right.

Taglist: @lightsabergirl / @knoepfl / @jeffswh0re / @itsmrshamilton / @heath-ledger-jokers-wife / @lolwey

Lmk if you'd like to be added! Hope the @'s are working lol...

[sophrosynesworld]

with all my love,

Edit: This is now a series with more parts available. Enjoy!

This idea came into my head, basically your significant other is an absent Katsuki Bakugo. After months of a loveless relationship, you decide to leave this note and finally move on.

Dear Katsuki,

If you’re reading this, I’ve already moved my belongings out of our home. You might not believe me, but I’ve had the majority of my items packed in a suitcase next to the front door. It’s been sitting there for the past week, but you never once questioned it.

Each day I waited, hoping you’d notice, hoping you’d ask me about it. Each day, my heart broke a little more when you walked past it without a second glance. I wanted so badly for you to see, to care, to fight for us.

I can’t live like this anymore. I’m tired of sharing a house that feels more like a cold, empty shell than a home. I’m tired of sitting alone at the dinner table, my heart sinking with every passing hour that you’re not there. I’m tired of not seeing you for days on end, of lying awake at night wondering if you’re bleeding out in an alleyway. I might not be a pro-hero, but I’m still your partner. I was your partner.

For months, I fought to gain your attention back, praying to whatever god would listen. I used to beg them, offering anything they wanted, just so you would notice how much I've changed. I started working out again, sculpting my body into something I thought you’d find appealing, hoping to catch your eye like I once did. I even joined a cooking class, learning to make all your favorite dishes. I wanted to surprise you with a homemade meal. You would have known that, if you made it home for dinner once in 4 months.

Do you remember our first apartment after graduation? That tiny studio next to the noodle shop? I find myself there sometimes, watching the new couple who lives in our old place. It's become a painful habit, seeing them live out what we once had. Her boyfriend seems kind, and they slow dance in the kitchen, just like we used to. Sometimes, I can almost hear your laughter echoing in their space, as if our ghosts still linger there.

I remember when we used to laugh and dance together, our dreams tangled like a ball of red string. We would stay up late, talking about our future, making plans that felt like promises. Now, our home your home haunts me. The warmth I once felt has been replaced by a suffocating darkness. I don't know what changed, Katsuki, but pretending everything is fine is tearing me apart.

I often wonder what your biggest regret in life will be. Is it pushing your friends away, no matter how hard they try to love you? Maybe it will be all the times you let your anger get the best of you. Could it be not taking a moment to stop and smell the roses, to appreciate the simple, beautiful moments life has to offer.

I don't know if you've found someone else. Part of me dreads the truth. I don’t want to know if there’s another name on your lips, another face in your heart. I don't think I could bear knowing their name or imagining you whispering those same sweet words into their ear.

Izuku says it’s selfish, but I hope your biggest regret in life is losing me. I hope you see my face in every little thing—the flowers you never stopped to admire, the meals we never shared, the quiet moments you never savored. I hope my laughter echoes in your silence, my tears in your loneliness. I hope my memory haunts your future as painfully as our present haunts me.

If you still love me, Katsuki Bakugo, I haven't felt that love from you in months.

With all of my love,

[springismss]

ᱬ⛧ my villain viii ~ dabi

𖤐 part sum: when a burning question leads to you venturing out on a night, you come across the one person who can answer it. only are they going to answer as easily as you think? and the tension, you could cut it with a knife.

𖤐 pairing: dabi x pro hero! female reader

𖤐 part content: mention of a drunk person, slight sexual tension if you squint. generally sfw (but that will change soon!)

𖤐 a/n: two parts in one day? wow, look at me go! this is the most motivated i've felt for a long time. hope you all enjoy the part, catch you all in the next! as always likes, comments and re-blogs are deeply appreciated!

𖤐 word count: 1.9k

𖤐 links: series masterlist | 《 prev part | next part 》

And so began the ever-tiring daily routine you found yourself in. Everything seemed to have changed since that encounter, and no matter how hard you tried, you couldn't keep a grip on the small amount of sanity you felt like you were losing.

No matter how hard you tried to stay sane, you began to fail when alone for more than a few moments at a time. Those eyes were all you could see when you closed your own. The pair of almost contrasting colours that seemed to glow in the dark.

The physical mark they'd left on you had long since healed, but the mental one still stung.

Then there were those turquoise ones. The ones that brought back so many memories of times that had passed, times that were filled with joy. How could someone you once knew like the back of your hand, and called your best friend, turn out to be one of the villains who caused your students pain?

As much as you wished you had the answer to that question and the others you had, you didn't. And the longer you pondered on them, the more you wished you did.

Wherever you looked, you swore you'd see flashes of the piercing blue, only for it to disappear as quickly as you'd seen it. The doubt making you question everything you'd ever known. You'd heard about what had happened to Rei, Touya's mother, so you understandably didn't want to meet the same kind of fate as her due to her son.

As for his appearance, you'd be lying if you said it didn't take you by surprise when you first saw him, made you feel physically sick for a moment. The purple, wrinkled skin that was attached by staples to his normal skin was really a sight to see; you could understand why people called him the patchwork villain. You guessed it was from losing control of his quirk; he did have a slight intolerance to the immense heat produced by his flames.

And his hair. The beautiful white you once admired was now replaced with black. Even though you loved his white hair, something about seeing him with black hair stirred feelings. As much as you hated to admit it, he suited it more than you thought possible. Even wondering what it would be like to thread your fingers through it.

Despite your feelings, you needed answers. You'd been without him for long enough; he couldn't just walk back into your life without giving you an explanation. That's what led to you grabbing a jacket and heading out of your front door into the world you'd grown to hate slightly.

You had to find Dabi, no matter what it took. You wouldn't stop until you did, even if it meant putting yourself in danger. You were a hero, it wouldn't be too hard to handle yourself, right?

The bustling nightlife sounded around you as you walked the streets, observing every place you could. You'd almost forgotten what it was like to be out at night, to be one of the figures that were out without a care in the world.

Knowing Touya, he'd be doing one of two things: avoiding the populated area or just wandering around, not bothering to blend in, or worried about who would see him. Your gut guessed he would be doing the latter, now that the league was gaining popularity, so you scanned around. Scanning in hopes of finding him sticking out amongst the crowd.

A shiver of uneasiness ran through you as you clung onto yourself, hands gripping somewhat tightly as you hoped to create a sense of safety in your slightly broken mind. Letting out a sigh of frustration, you stopped beside a shop and took in a breath, steadying your mindset before continuing. Mentally cheering yourself on before a little self-doubt began to show.

'Maybe this was a bad idea, I shouldn't have been so quick to rush out the door, especially on a night like this'.

A sudden pull on your arm made you crash back to reality with a bump, as you turned your head to the source of the direction you were pulled in. "Well, hello there, sweetheart! What's a princess like you doing out here on her own?".

Scrunching your face in disgust, your eyes looked over an older male who'd clearly had a little too much to drink. You had no idea who he thought he was, but no chance in hell was he doing what you thought he was going to do.

Grabbing hold of his hand, you pushed his arm down in an attempt to remove him from your body and out of your personal space. "Excuse me? I'm not on my own". Letting out a frustrated grunt, you tried once more to push his hand away. The force of his yanking in retaliation knocked you off balance slightly, free hand reaching behind you to grab onto something to keep you steady.

That's when you felt it, the obvious hardness of someone's torso as you gripped hold of what you could assume was their top. Looking over your shoulder, you came face to face with the very person you were searching for, hand letting go of his top quickly. How had he managed to find you when he was near enough impossible for you to find? "Hey, don't think you can just forget about me, princess!".

Narrowing his eyes, Dabi looked at the situation before him, noting the way you were being tugged a little too roughly even for his liking. Clicking his tongue in annoyance, he stepped forward, hand gripping onto the arm of the man who had hold of you. He clearly towered above the pair of you as he stopped by your side, free hand cupped at his side. "You heard her, she's not on her own. So you best let go of her".

Of course, much like anyone else who would be in the man's state, he didn't like what was said, trying his best to pull you closer to him. "Oh yeah? And what makes you think I'm going to listen to you, or even her, for that matter, patchwork?"

Before you could even register it, a gasp passed your lips as you saw flickers of blue in the corner of your eye. You prayed the man would back off, while Dabi had no issues with causing a scene, you did. You were a hero after all. If word got out about this, your career could be over.

The sudden appearance of the flames made the man jump back slightly, dropping your arm moments later, albeit roughly. He wasn't about to get caught up in whatever the two of you had going on. Turning on his heel, he walked away from the pair of you, not before flipping you off. "Whatever, you can have her. She's not even that good-looking anyway".

Raising your brow at the words, you returned the gesture, huffing out a little as you pouted. "You know, doll, a little birdy told me you've been looking for me". Glancing to your side, you rolled your eyes. Of course he'd find out you were somehow. "Hmmm... Let me guess. One of your little friends told you I was?".

Shrugging his shoulders, Dabi just looked around, not bothering to entertain your question. Of course, one of his friends told him. Toga could be quite unusual when she wanted to be. "If that's what you think, you think that. But why else would you be around this part of town? Especially at this time of night." Glancing back at you, he took in the way you rolled your eyes, a smirk tugging at his lips. "So what is it you want, little hero?"

Crossing your arms, you stepped back to create some distance between you. Tilting your head slightly, you looked over his figure, trying to work him out. Trying to figure out what he wanted from you. Dropping your arms with a sigh, you cast your gaze back up to his face, looking over his features once more. "I want answers, Dabi. It is Dabi now, isn't it?".

A hum of disinterest was your only response before a scarred hand lifted, fingers motioning for you to follow them if you dared. Of course, your fight-or-flight instinct kicked in. You were hesitant, but the more you thought about staying in this place alone, the more the idea of following him seemed like a good choice.

Weaving through the crowds of people, you somehow managed to keep up with the tall villain. The little game of chase slowed down as the number of people began decreasing the further you moved from the busy streets; abandoned warehouses slowly coming into view.

"So, this is where we're going to talk? Such a nice place to take a lady".

A cool breeze swept through the area you stood in as you stared off at the male ahead. One of you was on their guard, ready to expect the unexpected. The other was enjoying the moment, watching the other glance around, trying to adjust to where they were. "You know, I never would have thought you'd have come with me, little hero. After all, there might have been an ambush waiting for you".

Letting out a laugh, you crossed your arms as you continued to stare him down. "Come on now, I think we both know that wouldn't be the case, would it, Dabi? You said so yourself the other day that you didn't want any harm coming to me. Now....".

Stepping forward, you let your arms drop as you cupped your hands by your side. Small flickers of your purple flames began to show, ready to strike if the moment called for it. “…You're going to tell me exactly what the fuck you think playing at, Touya".

A wicked and almost twisted grin tugged at his lips as he started to step towards you. Boots heavy on the floor as he moved, stopping in front of you with a matter of seconds. He had to admit, he liked this side of you, even if he knew you were shaking deep inside.

Long fingers slipped under your chin, moving your head up to get a better look at you once he reached you. Turquoise eyes scanned over your face, taking in every detail just in case he never got to see you again after this moment. Your eyes locked with his soon after, neither of you wanting to back down.

"You haven't changed at all, have you, (n/n)? You're prepared to face and dance with the devil just to satisfy a long-burning question you've had eating away inside all these years".

A smirk of your own tugged at your lips. Of course, he'd say that; it was a typical Touya thing to say. Letting a hum pass your lips, you placed a hand on his chest, fingers tracing the scarred and normal skin for a moment before you pushed him back, body landing on the damp concrete with a thud.

Of course, you'd play a dirty trick like that to get him to drop his guard. He'd long forgotten what it was like to feel your touch, so for you to use it against him, he couldn't help but admire it slightly.

Crouching down, you took a moment to look him over again. While villains like him usually took their time and played with the people they took into their grasp, now it was your turn.

Standing up, you stepped over him and placed your feet on either side of his body. Even if your mind was screaming at you not to go any further, you pushed the thoughts to one side as you sank down onto your knees, perching yourself on top of his thighs.

"Maybe I want to play with the devil. After all, he does have a name, doesn't he?".

✎ tag list: [open - 4/10]

@dabislittlemouse @hawkwithsocks @bogearts @isabeauwolf

© springismss 2025 - don’t repost, copy, translate, steal or modify.

[asphaltasphodel]

(Please read all if you do read it, I promise I'm making a point<3)

No, Sabrina Carpenter did not set feminism back with her album cover. Just because it made you uncomfortable, doesn't mean what she did was wrong, you just didn't understand it. Really you didn't.

The cover has her on the ground on her knees in a sort of "dog" position with a man gripping the ends of her hair. The album title is called "Man's Best Friend". What is man's best friend? A dog. It is known that a man calling a woman a bitch is an act of misogyny. What is another definition of bitch? A female dog. Notice how the man is barely in the photo. The man is not the focus of the cover. It can also represent how it doesn't matter who the man is, all men can be misogynists; your brother, your boyfriend, your male friend, some random man on the street, a male politician, even your father. So Sabrina on her knees is the "bitch", her hair could be considered the leash, and the man is...well...a man. It is on-the-nose. It's supposed to be.

"It's not even satire!"

The definition of satire is "the use of humor, irony, exaggeration, or ridicule to expose and criticize people's stupidity or vices, particularly in the context of contemporary politics and other topical issues." (note: humor is not always used to make light of situations, ex: political cartoons, the response to OceanGate and the jokes about 9/11) South Park is a great example of how satire can be on-the-nose and not be advocating for the problems it depicts. Another example is the TV series "Kevin Can F* Himself", it's a take on the hot-wife and idiot husband tropes often depicted in sitcoms. The show has two juxtaposing POVs:

The husband's POV: the classic bright light scene and a laugh track to accompany whenever he does an "oopsy" or makes a jab at his "nagging" wife. The husband is the focal point of most, if not all, of these scenes.

The wife's POV: the reality, the bright lights replaced with a dimmer filter, there is no laugh track and there is no husband. The husband is only part of this scene at the end when his "lights" finally come crashing down when the wife finally leaves him.

What does this have to do with Sabrina Carpenter? Well, from what we have heard from the upcoming album with her song "Manchild" and the accompanying music video, she doesn't necessarily show men in the best light. The entire song is just her calling them dumb. The term man-child is literally used to called men immature and insult them(rightfully so). The video shows men in ridiculous situations and not being what she needs(being useless) and wasting her time. This isn't her first time making fun of men either. She has literally killed a man with an elevator in the music video for "Feather"! Anyway... back to the point, she is no stranger to juxtaposition. She has a sweet aesthetic which is typical to a 50s aesthetic but contrasts that with ridiculing men and being independent from them. We'll see when the album actually comes out but why would she switch it up know?

"It's overly sexual!"

Do you not remember her Juno poses? I don't even listen to her music all that much and I have seen them. I don't know what you were expecting. There could be something to say about how artists these days feel like they have to be more erotic in their art, but I think that is less an individual issue and more a collective response to the more conservative political climate we are in currently(in the USA specifically). Personally, I don't think the cover is all that sexual anyway. Yes, I can see the k!nk aspect that some people are arguing for, but it feels like more of a background interpretation than the one Sabrina is intending for you to see. I do want to talk about pro-k!nk vs anti-k!nk at some point, but that will have to wait for another post.

"She is romanticizing 50s adverts that promote DV!"

I agree that she is referencing those adverts and that is the point! Referencing something harmful does not equal romanticizing it.

"But the Lolita references!"

The album cover itself was not a reference to Lolita. The magazine shoot she did with W Mag is a what you are talking about, which I could see as well and is an honest criticism. It was only one(1) photo out of many others that did not reference that. She did come out and respond saying she had not scene the movie. I don't blame her, it is not as popular of a movie as you may think. I haven't seen the movie in full and it was only a few scenes. The movie was a horrendous adaptation of the book and went against Nabokov's wishes. I believe her when she said she has/had not seen the movie. Maybe she's lying, maybe she's not. It has nothing to do with the album cover though.

"But the lyrics she sang!"

The lyrics you are talking about are when she was in Mexico on tour “I’m full grown, but I look like a niña / Come put something big in my casita / Mexico, I think you are bonita”. And honestly, fair enough. It's weird. She did not think that through. I don't know how much effort she puts into her outros. But again, it has nothing to do with the album cover.

Finishing thoughts:

There are things to hold Sabrina accountable for, but they don't have anything to do with the album cover, which was the initial complaint. Maybe I thought a little to deep on somethings and maybe you don't think she is smart enough to make intelligent references. This conversation is not black and white. Most things aren't. I understand not wanting to support people who don't hold the same values and beliefs as you, but this has turned into a witch hunt against primarily women(Sabrina Carpenter, Sydney Sweeney, Chappell Roan, Gracie Abrams, etc). You can be uncomfortable with things but that does not mean it is morally wrong. You have to step and realize that because you have a strong emotions, you are coming at it from a biased perspective. Which is not an inherently wrong thing to do, it just means you have to not jump to conclusions and actually sit with those feelings away from the internets input. And yes, your initial emotions can be right, but the immediate jump to "she's horrible" and "she hates women", is not the way to go. We live in a time where we all exist in an echo chamber of our own making, we only hear our own opinions repeated back to us and it has rotted out critical thinking skills. Please reads more books(support your local libraries!) and engage critically with the media you consume. Please remember that there are about 8 billion people on Earth and most of them don't want to watch the world burn and are simply human.

<3Thank You for Reading! I am open to discussion!<3

[our-magical-world]

Questions for MHA shifters

My Hero Academia is one of my main DRs and I always enjoy reading / listening to MHA shifters talk about their experiences there, it gives me so much motivation and it's usually super interesting.

So I thought about some questions I'd like to ask experienced shifters about their MHA DRs. Just random things I'm curious about. If you've shifted there and would like to answer (just for fun, feel free to skip any questions you're not comfortable with!) please reblog with your answers, or make a new post and tag me so I can read it. (You can also answer if you haven't shifted, based on your script and ideas, just let us know at the beginning).

1- First, are you a student or a pro hero / teacher / adult?

2- Mandatory question: What's your quirk?? Do you have any special moves?

3- Are you related to any canon characters? (as family or previous relationships like childhood friends, rivals...)

4- Any non-canon characters we haven't seen in the series who are part of your life? (like siblings, scripting your CR friends in there, or having children in your DR)

5- Do you have a crush? Are you in a relationship? or even better, love triangles? relationship drama? I want the tea (only if you're comfortable with sharing, of course!)

6- Did you make any changes to canon? (if you changed too many things, you can just mention a few interesting ones that made your experience very different from canon)

7- Did you script anything or make any changes to canon that didn't turn out as you expected? (as in what seemed like a small change turned out to change the story drastically)

8- Did you meet (or fight) the villains? How was it?

9- Is All Might as impressive as they say in person? (if you met him in muscle form)

For students:

10- Who are your best friends?

11- Did you replace anyone in class 1-A? (or B?) I've seen many people do this so the number of students stays even. Who did you script out?

12- Did you script Mineta out? Or change his personality? If you didn't, did you have any problems with him (especially if you're a girl)? Anyone (else) you scripted out or changed drastically?

13- I've seen way too many shifters say that Momo tends to start drama for no reason in their DRs and I'm a little concerned... was she like that in your DR?

14- What's your daily schedule at UA? Did you script your own schedule/timetable? Any subjects you love or hate?

15- Has anyone seen Bakugo's room or Tsuyu's room? They're the only ones that weren't shown in the series (Mineta's was described in the light novel), I'm curious to know how they decorated them!

For shifters who aren't students anymore:

16- Are you a pro hero? A teacher? A civilian? A villain?

17- What's your daily life like?

18- Who do you work with? Do you have your own agency? Sidekicks?Any interesting team-ups with other heroes?

19- Anything we should know about hero work?

Bonus: 20- Any embarrassing moments to confess? (you can do it anonymously if you want!)

21- Free spot: That's all I can think of right now, but feel free to include anything you want to share! You can also submit your own questions for other shifters and I'll add them to the post or create a new one.

THANKS!!

[demontonic]

Hayden Christensen - The first time - 2

let’s pretend that i didnt already start writing this for a separate story before i decided to just add it in for a part 2 please and thank you! Here’s part 1 if you haven’t read it and my masterlist for more!

word count: 1998

You had landed a part in Star Wars after years of auditioning for any possible role. You had struck mainstream fame after a horror movie you did for Rob Zombie. They had introduced an interesting character, they wanted to give Darth Vader a devotee, of course after Padme he never loved again but they wanted to show how exactly he dealt with it immediately after her passing. The audition was a scene in which said devotee breaks after pining for his approval the entire series.

“I have given you everything I am, I betrayed everything I ever knew, and I have done everything you ever asked! Just once I want you to see me, all I do, all I am is for you… Anakin.” Your voice sounded empty, defeated, broken and angry. Unrequited love in the worst case scenario possible, falling in love with a widowed sith lord. The story outside all the theatrics however was quite the opposite.

“Chosen one, how’s your morning old man?” You taunted in a merry voice, the taller blond man just shook his head. A smirk resting on his lips as he scoffed at the weak attempt of a joke.

“You aren’t too far behind me lady,” he dropped his bag onto the blue mat next to yours. Soon Hayden towered over you awaiting the inevitable comeback, something you’d grown accustomed to during training.

“Twelve years is enough for me to give you shit big papi,” you shoved his torso once you felt your neck stiffening at the uncomfortable angle it required to look at him.

“Well I thought you two weren’t supposed to get along,” Dave Filoni, you swear you could spend hours thanking this man for his work in the Star Wars universe, afterall he did create your character.

“Dave!”

“Hayden!”

They briefly shook hands, clearly having a deep respect and adoration for each other as long time coworkers and friends. Behind Dave however was this redhead, she was older than you but still younger than Hayden. She was the trainer's assistant who very much liked to try and correct Hayden, despite him having more experience than most of us. It wouldn’t have struck a chord with you, it shouldn’t have, but when she placed her hands around his arms to adjust his ‘lightsaber’ it angered you deeply. Luckily for you she seemed to be in quite the chipper mood, “Fan- fucking -tastic,” you thought while watching her drool over him.

“-And then we’ll get started on your final battle, sound good?” Dave looked between you and Hayden, a nod coming from you both before he walked away; being replaced by the main trainer, Harry.

“Morning, Milord, lover girl, Jess.” His voice was relaxed as always, he was a gentle man despite the skills he had taught us. He could cheer you up and stop you from being discouraged one moment and then completely body slam you the next. You were forever grateful he was the trainer, because if it was that snotty bitch Jessica, you’d never catch a break. He liked to refer to us using names related to our characters to ‘get us in the headspace’ you just thought it was cute.

“Morning puff, how was the commute this morning?” You teased since he always complained about traffic, but today he gave you a knowing look. Puff was the nickname you gave him, his hair was insanely fluffy and long it also was a very light blonde.

“Well I’ll have you know it was better today, I hope that’s how your choreography goes as well since we’re gonna start breaking down your final battle today.” He grabbed a pole before swiftly turning to us, a test he’d do every now and then to see if we could spring into action. Of course, being the teacher’s pet I’d met his ‘blade’ first.

“Ah my lover girl, always quick on her feet,” his praise made you smile while he stood down, returning to his previous spot.

“She still needs to keep her legs braced properly, her stance is weak,” Jessica spat while she walked over to Harry, twirling her pole in hand cockily. To be fair she’d won many matches against you, but as of recently you had the winning streak.

“Now Jess-”

“Wanna give it a go, see how weak my stance really is?” You proposed, walking out to the middle of the mat, leaving Hayden to stand lonesome in the corner. He loved your drive, your constant need to prove yourself against that wretched woman. Not many people fancied her, it wasn’t hard to understand why, Hayden was not one of those people.

“Any day, any time, you know I’m always ready,” she quickly met you in the middle, poised for action, awaiting your first strike.

“Are you?” You had been working on this rendition of Hayden’s move, it was your personal touch to the character. It was the famous ‘Obi-Ani’ however when the saber went behind your back the blade would be downturned. From there it would switch hands, strike once it was brought forth, then switched back to your right hand. That was exactly how you started, she hadn’t been able to combat it and in the fictional universe her hand would be severed. In the real world, you hit her wrist very hard, you hoped to see the bruise later on.

“Impressive! I didn’t know you had finally polished that move, I think it will do well in the choreo.” Harry quickly declared before getting in between you two. Hayden also approached you, his hand turned your shoulder to face him.

“What even was that?” He sounded impressed, almost childlike especially with the smile that accompanied the question.

“I took your move, and I made it my own master,” you said cockily with a shit eating smile. Harry’s praise made you smile, but Hayden’s interest made you jump for joy.

*.·:·.✧ ✦ ✧.·:·.*

It had been a few hours now, you had gone through 4 out of 10 parts of the battle and you were starting to get frustrated. The lightsaber part had never been an issue, but the footwork on your part was intense. It had to be because by now Anakin was Darth Vader his mobility was nothing like the prequels. To keep Hayden stiff they had pads on his arms and knees to limit the movement. On top of that there was a lot of dialogue throughout the beginning, so you kept circling each other, anticipating each other's next moves.

“Again, let's slow it back dow-“

“No. Let’s do it again, I just need to keep doing this until I get it.” It wasn’t a backflip or some mind blowing parkour, however the transition from running, to sliding, up to your knees; and then trying not to fall back while Hayden pushed down on you with his saber wasn’t easy.

“Do you want me to ease up?” God sometimes you just wanted to hit him with the pole when he tried to water it down for you. He came from a good place but amidst your frustration, and Jessica’s relentless corrections you were losing control.

“No, just start again at 3”

“Okay, on your line”

And with a heavy sigh you repeated the last line of your spiel. “Just once I want you to see me, all I do, all I am is for you… Anakin.” Your voice was harsh, it was unmissable so as Hayden began his attack, you deflected with more force than normal. Your jaw was clenched and your fists tight. Your eyes were set on Hayden, it was like you were doing the scene for the actual take, hell it was like you were actually living this scenario.

“Anakin is no more, I killed hi-“

“Liar!”

You stepped forward going back into the confrontation, your sabers clashing louder than before. Grunts leaving your throat as you push your tired body to perfection, until you catch sight of Jessica. Her glare stuck on you as if you killed her favorite person, it just made you fume. The next part is when you cut off Vader’s left hand and while normally you let Hayden put his hand down, you hit the back of his hand. Finally it had clicked that you weren’t okay, something was bothering you and he had a pretty good idea why. However he remained silent and followed through with the scene.

“All this time, did you think I might fall in love with you? Your pride consumes you, padawan.”

“And your grief consumes you.” You said through clenched teeth, this was where you had to jump off a blue block they’d set up. As you jumped down, you rolled onto your knees before running at Hayden, and to avoid his saber you slid beneath it. Once you turned to face him, you hurriedly got onto one knee finally making it on time before your sabers clashed. He pushed down on you and you could feel your shoe slip against the slick fabric of the mats. You were fed up with this plastic always fucking this part up so you pushed back with all your upper body strength.

Not your best moment.

Hayden fell back as you stood up and this finally calmed you down from your mood. You breathed heavily while you walked over to help him back up, twirling your saber mindlessly. You looked down at the blonde, holding your hand out wordlessly in embarrassment.

“Sorry, I just-“

“Let’s take a break, and talk about this.” Hayden interjected before hurriedly ushering you to the parking lot. There was nothing to say, it was childish of you to act out, it was embarrassing, you couldn't begin to process the emotions pooling in your stomach. He unlocked his car and opened the door for you without hesitation, he was scarily calm as you got in the passenger seat. It didn’t take long for him to get into the driver’s seat, long strides equaled less steps. Once he was seated the silence continued for a moment, you wouldn’t dare meet his gaze.

“Jessica is a hard person to be around, I’m sure you’ve had a few instances like that in the workplace. Y/N you are giving her what she wants when you get angry, people like that thrive off your misery.” Hayden Christensen, he had to be God’s favorite, he was so nice and understanding. A gentle giant trying to reason with a short psycho, perfect.

“It disappoints you as much as it does me-“

“I’m not disappointed in you, if anything I’m proud… surprised even.”

“Surprised?”

“Yeah, Harry assumed you would’ve chewed her head off by now. You saved me 20 bucks”

“So what I’m hearing is you think I could win in a fight.” The mood was lighter now, you both sported bright smiles while the banter continued.

“I wouldn’t have put money on you if I didn’t think you would,” he was being sincere and you knew by the way he spoke so effortlessly.

“Might not be for much longer, it’s like she gets worse everyday- that or my tolerance is getting shorter.” This time your tone sounded defeated, sure you’ve dealt with more stressful things in life, but it seemed as though you had no more patience left. Hayden quickly took note of this and used the leverage of you being a Star Wars nerd to cheer you up.

“Have faith love, everything will soon be set right… I’ve been told she’ll be transferred to a different project anyway. Someplace far far away from us,” His voice dwindled to a hushed volume, it was soothing.

“That would bring peace to the entire city.” He laughed at your brutal joke before changing the subject.

“So do you think we can go in there and try to play nice?” The question lingered for a moment before you reluctantly answered him.

“I don’t make promises.”

“But?”

“But… I will try.”

“Atta girl.”

@oogachakaooga

@lonelywitchv2

@papas-peepee

[itsnothingofinterest]

Man, this line from All Might's flashback really boosts my respect for him. But also makes me pity him just a bit. Respect because what he said was true; pity because after all he's worked for it still is.

"In this world, criminals get rewarded for their actions."

"And a victim's sorrow grows into a blind rage. It's a spiral of everlasting tragedies."

He saw all this junk back when he started and wanted to fix it. And you know, I genuinely think he did the best he possibly could have on his chosen path as the greatest hero & symbol of peace. But he was never able to actually change the status quo he couldn't take, just put a cover over it so people weren't afraid. And by the end he even became a part of it as it's defender. Heck, if he did end up filling in any cracks in the old pre-All Might society, he inadvertently replaced them with new ones made by encouraging everyone rely on & blindly trust heroes.

The general public was certainly happier and more at ease with him around as a symbol, beating down dangerous villains, but everything else he despised still happened right under his nose. And if I may be brutally honest, I think it was because just being a pro hero fighting villains was never going to be enough. Most of the tragedies we've seen in this series didn't originate from a villain after all. They originated with some abuse, prejudice, systemic corruption, or some type of issue or bad person the heroes don't touch. And maybe that's because the heroes are so good at preventing tragedies caused by villains, & good for them if so; I still think the next generation should get a better plan because it looks like things wound up right back where they started anyway.

Anyway; the League/PLF should take "I can't take it anymore. In this world, criminals get rewarded for their actions. And a victim's sorrow grows into a blind rage. It's a spiral of everlasting tragedies." to use as their slogan. I know it's a bit wordy but I think Tomura could make it work.

[pastel-charm-14]

how to romanticize your life - a series - post 2 - romanticizing school

soo many people see school as something to avoid, as a chore. but we as individuals have the power to change the way we view school. it's an opportunity for growth, discovery, and personal development. so without further ado: here are a couple tips to help you romanticize school!!

have a positive mindset. in order to study effectively, you need to put aside the negative connotations you have with school and studying and replace them with positive connotations. write out a cons list and then counteract each negative with a positive. for example: con - school is very time consuming | pro - it teaches you time management skills.

create a peaceful and cozy school morning routine. drink some water, watch something funny, use the bathroom, brush your teeth, do your makeup, listen to some nice music, pick out a cute outfit, do your hair, have some matcha.

i also like to say affirmations in the mornings like "i love school" or "i'm amazing at school" to help get me into that positive mindset i was talking about earlier.

make a to-do list. part of romanticizing is not stressing. if you prepare for your day in advance, you can worry less and enjoy more.

really explore your school campus. find all the little nooks and crannys, and don't miss out on anything your school has to offer. for example, i found a little covered picnic table over by the greenhouses at my school that i love to sit at. cute places to study and hang out make school so much more enjoyable.

appreciate being a student. there is so much community and everyone is working toward to common goal to really figure out who they want to be and what they're going to do. it sounds dramatic, but it's true. so i advise you to embrace student life. attend events, plays, games, join clubs, and study with your friends. so go to that football game, participate in spirit days, and enjoy being a student to its fullest potential!

materials are also a huge part of school. you don't have to spend big bucks, but these are some basic things that have helped me:

-cute planners/notebooks, sticky notes -> for goals/organization, writing down something quick, although take physical notes as well!

-books -> gives you something to do, i like romance and educational books

-ipad -> helps with notes/studying, customize it to make it cute, add widgets, and keep in mind that it's all about the vibes

dress to impress. wear cute outfits. treat school as a fashion show. i know dressing up and feeling confident has really enhanced my school experience. some of my favorite things to wear are preppy cardigans, nice jeans, skirts, high knee boots, long sleeve turtlenecks, and just tons of cute tops. layering is very important to me as well. you can also add jewelry to help elevate your style a lil bit.

have a space that you dedicate to only studying. i have a desk in my room that i use, and it has improved my study habits, my grades, and my discipline. it makes studying/schoolwork so much more enjoyable. it always good to keep in mind that your environment impacts tons of other aspects of your life too. make your space your own and personalize it. some potential spots could also be coffee shops or the library, whatever works for you.

make a pinterest board to motivate yourself. this could include study-with-me's, study tips, just general inspiration, or things to do with your main area of study or your major if you're a uni student. this helps you think about "huh, that could be me".

bonus tips:

absorb study content/vlogs

have a good-vibes playlist

in case ya missed the intro post:

stay tuned…

[glennk56]

Dennis Burkley was born in Van Nuys, California in 1945 and brought up in Texas. He married his lifetime wife Laura when he was 22 years old.  He passed away in 2013 at the age of 67. I remember first seeing him on TV as Mac, 6 foot 3, big and fat and delicious on Mary Hartman, Mary Hartman, which became Fernwood Forever. These were spoofs of the daytime Soap Operas. These shows ran after primetime at night. Norman Lear was the Executive Producer.

The next series I remember him from was Sanford with Redd Foxx. He played Cal. He was the unlikely replacement for Demond Wilson after Wilson left Sanford & Son in a contract dispute.

 Dennis Burkley in the 1970s (Part 1)

Dennis’s first on-screen appearance was on the long-running anthology series Insight. He appeared in an episode called Graduation Day in 1972 when he was still 26 years old. His job was to laugh as Bernie Kopell goofed on a waitress. He is barely recognizable here as the long-haired, chubby young man he was. There will be many poor quality photos. I apologize in advance.

His next appearance was in the independent film Bummer in 1973, where he plays Butts, a member of a rock band who drinks too much and rapes two groupies. This was an important role for someone with little film experience.

He also appeared in an episode of Emergency! In an uncredited role in 1973. This was the first of many times he would play a biker. (no photo)

In 1974, Dennis Burkley appeared in Nightmare Honeymoon (poor quality photos above) as Bubba, a member of the bride’s oddball family. He also appeared in an episode of Police Story, a TV Movie, The Law and the pilot episode of the failed series The Texas Wheelers. In 1975, his only role was uncredited, as a bartender in an episode of Kojak.

Dennis Burkley makes up for his slow 1975 with 10 credits in 1976

In 1976: Dennis plays a pro wrestler in an episode of Starsky and Hutch.

He plays a bike shop owner in an episode of Family.

He appears in the Arnold Schwarzenegger, Jeff Bridges and Sally Field film Stay Hungry.

He is a gold prospector in the TV Movie The Call of the Wild

He plays a trucker with the handle of Big Mama in an episode of McCloud.

He is a combative Private in the MiniSeries, Once an Eagle.

He plays a thug on The Rockford Files.

And he is in an episodes of Maude and One Day at a Time and his first episode of Mary Hartman, Mary Hartman.(no photos)