#and then this morning I get a dm from another friend asking if I knew if my bff was mad at her or smth bc she’s been leaving her on read

[victory-cookies]

nothing like a little friend drama to spice up the morning. lord

[rootedinrevisions]

Five Years

SUMMARY: Five years of friendship. Years of silent longing. One night that changes everything. When Tyler Owens, a charming, rugged man with a penchant for keeping things casual, finds himself at a crossroads with the woman he's secretly loved for years, he realizes he might have waited too long. After one too many moments where you've been left wanting more, you find yourself torn between the comfort of their deep connection and the pain of being stuck in the friend zone. Tyler has one last shot to show you that he’s not just the man you turn to in the hard moments—but the man who can make you believe in love, again.

A/N: Sorry for all the angsty Tyler lately! It's just been the mood/vibe lately so I've been rolling with it! Thanks to the person who sent this request in! I hope you like it!

PROMPT: "What was he doing back there? Flirting with you like he has a fucking chance?"

WARNINGS/TAGS: Angst.

WORD COUNT: 5.6k

TAG LIST: SEE COMMENTS

If you would like to be added to any of my Tag Lists please feel free to comment, send an ask, or send a DM and I'll be happy to get you added! Below are the fandoms I currently write for.

Glen Powell (himself and the characters he's played)

Top Gun: Maverick (Hangman, Rooster, possibly others soon)

Marvel / MCU (Bucky Barnes as of now, but possibly others soon)

WWE / Wrestling

It’s late, the kind of quiet that comes when the night has softened everything into shadows. You and Tyler are back in the motel room, tangled together in bed like it’s the most natural thing in the world. His arm drapes over you, and you’re curled into his side, your head on his chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his breathing. The scent of whiskey lingers between you, mingling with the warmth of his skin, and you can still taste him faintly on your lips. Another night, another round of kisses exchanged under the dim motel lights, like something fragile and fleeting.

He stirs, his hand brushing along your back, and you wonder if he’s on the edge of sleep or just drifting in that space in between like you are. For a moment, you’re tempted to ask him the question that’s always on the tip of your tongue: What are we doing?

Instead, you stay silent, breathing in sync with him, wondering if he can feel the way your heart skips each time he holds you like this. He shifts, drawing you a little closer, and you catch a glimpse of something in his expression—something soft, maybe even vulnerable. But it’s gone as quickly as it came.

“Hey,” he murmurs, his voice low and slightly slurred. “You’re comfortable, right?” His hand rests at the curve of your hip, fingers grazing your skin in a way that sends a shiver through you.

You nod, managing a quiet, “Yeah. Always.” You know he’ll pretend he doesn’t remember this in the morning, brush it off like it’s nothing, and you’ll let him because it’s easier that way. But tonight, you can pretend a little too—that these quiet moments mean the same to him as they do to you.

You close your eyes, listening to his heartbeat beneath your ear, wondering how much longer you can keep pretending before you’re forced to admit the truth—to yourself, if not to him.

Then, out of nowhere, he says, “So… I just found out I’m being inducted into the PBR Hall of Fame.”

You blink, lifting your head from his chest to look at him. A smile lights up your face. “Tyler, that’s amazing! I mean, I knew you were a big deal, but… Hall of Fame?”

He chuckles softly, scratching the back of his head with that familiar modesty. “Yeah, kinda crazy, huh? Guess all those years getting tossed around finally paid off.”

You laugh, knowing he’s downplaying it. You’ve seen some of those old videos, clips of him taking on bulls with more force and heart than anyone you’d ever met. 

“No one deserves it more than you,” you say softly, feeling that familiar warmth in your chest. “I’m so proud of you.”

A faint blush colors his cheeks as he looks away, and then, clearing his throat, he glances back at you. 

“Thanks, means a lot,” he says, his voice softer. Then, after a moment, he adds, “Actually… I get a plus one to the induction ceremony. I was thinking maybe you’d want to come with me?”

Your heart skips at that. He doesn’t even pause to consider anyone else; he’s asking you. For a moment, you feel a surge of excitement that maybe this is more than just a friendly invite. But just as quickly, doubt seeps in. If he had a girlfriend, he’d take her, wouldn’t he? A familiar ache settles in your chest, the quiet reminder that maybe this is just about convenience for him.

“Are you sure?” you ask, trying to keep your voice steady, and casual. “I mean, you could take anyone.”

He glances at you with a soft smile, his eyes sincere. “Nah. Can’t think of anyone better. You’d come, right?”

The words are on the tip of your tongue—Of course, I’ll go. 

Instead, you hesitate, just for a second, wondering if this is just a placeholder invitation until he finds someone to fill the spot he’s never openly said he wants to be filled. But you can’t bear the thought of missing the moment, so you nod, managing a smile. “Yeah, I’d love to.”

He grins, pulling you back into his chest, and you settle against him, feeling the warmth of his arm around you. But even as you breathe him in, letting the steady beat of his heart calm you, a question begins to take root in your mind. Where do we really stand, Tyler?

It’s a question you keep to yourself, swallowing it down as you close your eyes and listen to the silence settle around you once again.

* * * * *

The ballroom buzzed with energy and anticipation, and you could sense the excitement radiating from Tyler beside you. The event space was elegantly decorated, with every table set with crystal glasses and gleaming silverware. But you hardly noticed any of it; all your focus was on Tyler. This was his night. And you were honored to be here with him, even if you didn’t quite know what that meant for the two of you.

You eventually found your way to your seats near the front of the room, and Tyler’s hand brushed against yours as you sat down. His fingers lingered just a moment, a subtle contact that sent a rush of warmth up your arm. 

Before you could say anything, the lights dimmed as the emcee took to the stage, announcing the start of the ceremony. The audience fell quiet, and Tyler’s hand was warm on your knee, a comforting weight that made your heart race. You glanced down at his hand, then back up to his face, wondering if he even realized the effect he had on you.

A part of you wanted to reach for his hand again, to close the gap between you both once and for all, but you stayed still, holding your breath as the ceremony began.

As the awards were announced one by one, you couldn’t help but steal glances at Tyler. He seemed to sit straighter with each name called, his eyes never leaving the stage. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the emcee announced Tyler’s name, and the room burst into applause. You clapped the loudest, your heart swelling with pride.

You watched as Tyler walked to the stage, his stride steady and confident, shoulders back with that natural charisma he carried wherever he went. When he accepted his award, he stood there with his plaque, his gaze scanning the crowd until it landed on you. The spotlight hit his face, highlighting the small, crooked smile you knew so well. And his eyes—dark, intense, focused on you—seemed to say something unspoken.

You felt your breath catch, frozen under his gaze, and for a second, it was like you were the only two people in the room.

His acceptance speech was simple and heartfelt. He thanked the people who had been there with him through the highs and lows. He spoke of long, hard days, the sacrifices he’d made, and the passion that drove him. But you could’ve sworn that when he mentioned his gratitude for “the people who kept him grounded,” his eyes found you once again.

As Tyler wrapped up his speech and made his way back to his seat, you barely had a chance to process the pride you felt for him, for everything he’d accomplished. But that brief moment when he’d looked at you on stage lingered in your mind, wrapping around you like a warm embrace. Could it have meant something more?

He sat back down next to you, and you leaned over, unable to keep the smile from your face. “That was incredible, Ty. I’m so proud of you.”

He looked at you, a soft chuckle escaping as he rubbed the back of his neck. “Thanks. I think I might’ve fumbled a little bit up there.”

“Not even close,” you replied, squeezing his arm. “You were perfect.”

The atmosphere at the afterparty was more relaxed, a contrast to the formality of the ceremony.

The room buzzes with laughter and clinking glasses, everyone here to celebrate the achievements of legends, past and present. You’re standing beside Tyler, trying to blend into the background of the room’s energy. But then, without warning, Tyler reaches for your hand, his fingers brushing yours before intertwining them completely. It’s such a small gesture, but it sends a rush of warmth through you. He glances at you, his eyes searching yours for a brief moment, almost as if he’s silently asking if this is okay, if you’re okay. You squeeze his hand, hoping he’ll understand that, yes, this is more than okay.

“Come on, there’s someone I want you to meet,” he says, his voice low and soft. He leads you through the crowd toward a man with a broad smile and lines etched deep around his eyes—Tyler’s old mentor. Tyler introduces you with a genuine warmth that makes you feel like you belong here, like you’re not just an accessory to his big night but someone he wants by his side.

As they begin chatting, Tyler’s hand drifts to your waist, his fingers pressing lightly into your hip as he pulls you closer, fitting you against his side. You feel a warmth blossom in your chest, and for a moment, the nagging doubts you’d been harboring vanish. His mentor jokes about old times, and Tyler laughs, giving your waist a small squeeze as if to share the moment with you. You let yourself lean into him, letting his warmth melt away the walls you’d tried to build around your heart.

But then, as the conversation comes to a close, he lets go. Just like that, his hand falls from your waist, and he takes a step back, sliding his hands into his pockets, a casual smile on his face. He glances around the room, no longer focused on you, and the sudden distance sends a chill down your spine. You’re standing side by side, but the connection feels fractured, like a missed beat. He begins walking next to you, his attention now elsewhere, no hand-holding, no gentle touches to keep you close.

Half an hour later you’re standing next to Tyler, trying to stay engaged with the conversation he’s having with an old friend he used to ride with, someone who knows a side of him you’ve only heard about in stories. Tyler’s posture is easy, his laugh warm and unguarded in a way that you rarely get to see. You watch him as he reminisces, letting yourself get lost in the sound of his laughter, in the way his eyes light up with a spark of the past. But as they continue to talk, it becomes clear that he’s in his own world, like you’re not even there.

The laughter between them grows, each memory shared drawing them further back into the years before you knew him. You shift your weight, feeling a slight ache in your chest as you realize just how separate you feel from this part of his life. A sense of loneliness creeps in, one you can’t shake, and you find yourself glancing toward the bar. Maybe a drink will help dull the sting.

You start to turn, your heart heavy, but just then, you feel Tyler’s hand reach out, his fingers wrapping gently around yours. The touch is so familiar, so comforting, and for a brief second, that hopeful warmth flickers back to life. 

You glance over your shoulder, catching his eye, a hint of something unreadable there.

“You okay?” he asks, his voice quieter, as if trying to break through to you despite the noise around.

You swallow, forcing a smile to cover the twinge of sadness that’s growing in your chest. “Yeah,” you say softly, nodding toward the bar. “Just thirsty. Thought I’d grab a drink.”

He nods, giving your hand a slight squeeze before letting go, turning back to his friend with that easy laugh that now feels like a barrier you can’t quite cross. You turn away, your heart sinking as you walk toward the bar, feeling the absence of his hand like a chill creeping over your skin. You can’t help but feel a pang of disappointment that settles heavy and cold. Just moments ago, he was intertwining your fingers, holding you close with his hand on your waist, like you were more than just a companion for the night.

How did it change so quickly? How did he go from holding you, grounding you with those intimate touches, to leaving you in this limbo of almost but not quite? You realize that, despite how much he means to you, there’s a line between you that he doesn’t seem ready to cross. And that thought hurts more than you want to admit.

You’re leaning against the bar, lost in thought, when a voice breaks through the noise, smooth and warm. “Hey there. You look like you could use some company.”

You glance up to find a guy with a charming grin and a relaxed confidence that’s instantly disarming. He extends a hand. “Eli Vastbinder,” he says. “I don’t think we’ve met.”

For a moment, you’re taken off guard, but you shake his hand and introduce yourself, motioning to where Tyler’s standing in the distance. “I’m here with Tyler Owens.”

At the mention of Tyler’s name, a flicker of something—maybe disappointment, maybe surprise—crosses Eli’s face before he recovers his smile. “Owens, huh? How do you know the Tornado Wrangler?”

You can’t help but laugh at the nickname, feeling some of the tension ease as you explain. “We work together. I help him run his YouTube channel.”

Eli’s gaze shifts from Tyler back to you, a curious glint in his eye as if he’s sizing up the situation. He doesn’t linger on it for long, though, before flashing you a daring smile. “So, just coworkers, huh? In that case, you wouldn’t mind if I bought you a drink?”

The question lingers, sparking a twist of hesitation in your chest. You glance over at Tyler, hoping for some kind of sign, some acknowledgment of what you’re feeling. Your eyes meet his, and he offers you a casual smile before turning his attention back to his friend. The moment leaves you cold—another reminder of all the times he’s pulled you close, only to leave you feeling as if you’re just out of reach.

You turn back to Eli, a decision settling in your mind. Tyler isn’t claiming you. He never has. And he’s had five years to do so.

You give Eli a small smile. “Sure, why not?”

Eli’s grin widens as he orders your drink, leaning in just slightly as he asks about your work with Tyler. He’s charming, effortlessly making you feel seen and appreciated. There’s a warm intensity in his gaze, like he’s genuinely interested in hearing about your life, in learning the pieces of you that Tyler seems to take for granted. You laugh at his jokes, leaning in as he tells stories about the crazy things he’s seen on the road. Every so often, his hand brushes yours, sending a little thrill through you—like something you haven’t allowed yourself to feel in far too long.

It doesn’t take long for you to feel the weight lifting from your shoulders. There’s no ambiguity with Eli; his attention is clear, unburdened by mixed signals or unspoken boundaries. It’s refreshing, exciting, even, to be the center of someone’s focus without second-guessing their intentions.

You glance over at Tyler once more, but he’s still wrapped up in conversation, seemingly unaware of the ache you’ve carried alone. A part of you wants him to notice, to see what’s happening, to finally feel the urgency you’ve held onto for years. But there’s another part of you that’s finished waiting.

As you turn back to Eli, you find yourself smiling, the kind of smile that feels like letting go.

You’re laughing at something Eli just said, a relaxed warmth in your chest that’s been missing around Tyler lately, when you feel a familiar presence behind you. You glance back, and there he is—Tyler, wearing that easy smile that’s disarmed you a hundred times before. He leans close, his hand slipping around your waist, fingers warm and possessive against your hip. “Hey there, darlin’,” he greets, the pet name rolling off his tongue as naturally as the smirk tugging at his lips.

But Tyler doesn’t stop there. His gaze shifts to Eli, assessing him for a beat, and then extends a hand. “I see you’ve met my date,” he says, voice casual but with a certain edge, like a claim staked.

You freeze, glancing up at him, surprised and confused by his sudden assertiveness. Eli’s expression mirrors your own—slightly perplexed, eyebrows lifting as he takes Tyler’s hand and shakes it firmly. His eyes flicker back to you, questioning. “Date? I thought you two were just coworkers,” he remarks, eyes shifting meaningfully to Tyler’s hand, still resting on your hip.

Before you can answer, Tyler lets out a dismissive scoff, as if the notion of you two being “just coworkers” is absurd. “Coworkers?” he echoes, his hand tightening just a fraction. “Yeah, we’re a little closer than that.” He shoots a look at you that’s both playful and possessive.

You feel your blood simmer, heat rising in your chest at the presumption in his tone. As if you’re some claim he can lay when it’s convenient, without any real commitment. You step out of his grip, your voice firm as you say, “We are just coworkers.” The words come out sharper than you intend, but you don’t soften them.

Tyler’s smile falters, his brow furrowing, but you’ve already turned away, excusing yourself quickly to Eli before slipping out toward the exit.

Humiliation washes over you, prickling your skin as you push through the crowd, needing fresh air, needing space. You had been enjoying a perfectly nice conversation with Eli, feeling appreciated and even flattered, until Tyler decided to swoop in and turn the moment into something possessive and confusing.

As you reach the hallway, you feel a sharp sting behind your eyes. Tears blur your vision, and you blink them back, furious with yourself for letting Tyler get to you like this. You’re tired—tired of being in his orbit only when he wants you to be, of being treated as something more only when it suits him. Because heaven forbid another guy notices you.

The hallway is quiet, save for the soft murmur of voices drifting from the ballroom as you stand there, waiting for the elevator. The moment stretches, tense and thick, when you hear his footsteps behind you, his voice calling your name.

You don’t turn around. “Tyler… don’t.” The plea is barely above a whisper, but he ignores it, closing the distance between you, his face etched with frustration.

“What was he doing back there?” he asks, motioning down the hall toward the ballroom, his tone hard, possessive. “Flirting with you like he has a chance?”

Your heart twists painfully at his words. His tone says it all—like he assumes you’re his, like it’s obvious. Like you should know.

But you’re done with the assumptions. The words spill out before you can stop them, thick with months, years, of unspoken hurt. “And why would you care, Tyler?” Your voice cracks, and you feel the first tear slip down your cheek, quickly followed by another. “It’s not like we’re together, right? You said it yourself—we’ll never be anything more than friends. We’re just…” You falter, searching for the right words, but the truth tumbles out, raw and painful. “We’re just really close, and we make out sometimes. Nothing more.”

The weight of it hangs in the air, and you can see the impact of your words in the way his face falls, his expression softening, regretful. 

“Hey,” he murmurs, reaching out, but you shake your head, a mix of anger and sadness bubbling to the surface.

“No, Tyler.” You step back, keeping the space between you. “I’m done. I’m done with this… with you.” Your voice shakes, but the conviction is there, clear and sharp. “I’m done not being good enough. Done being yours only when you want someone on your arm or in your bed. I can’t keep doing this.” You wipe a tear from your cheek, gathering whatever strength you have left. “I’m done with everything. Our friendship. The channel. All of it.”

The elevator dings, and the doors slide open with a quiet chime. You glance back at him one last time, taking in the hurt and confusion in his eyes. 

“Go back to the party, Tyler. It’s your night. You deserve it.”

You step into the elevator, pressing the button as the doors start to close. The last thing you see before they shut is him standing there, looking lost and completely, utterly alone.

Back in the quiet solitude of the hotel room, you feel the emotions from the hallway encounter with Tyler crash over you. It’s almost overwhelming, but you shake your head, determined to focus on the immediate task. You kick off your heels and reach for the zipper at the back of your dress, letting it slide down as the gown falls in a pool around your feet. You step out of it, scooping it up to drape over the chair, and head to your bag, ready to change and leave before you can overthink it.

Digging through your clothes, you pull out the first shirt, but frustration prickles at you when you realize it’s one of Tyler’s. With an annoyed huff, you toss it on the bed. You dig deeper, pulling out another… his again. Why didn’t I pack more of my own clothes? you think bitterly, remembering that his shirts have been your usual comfort, your routine.

Finally, you find one of your own t-shirts and pull it on, then slide into a pair of jeans. You run a hand over your face, taking a deep breath to keep yourself from falling apart, and open your suitcase, methodically folding the rest of your things and stowing them away. As you pack, a plan begins to form, each step sounding clearer in your mind. You’ll finish packing, get a car downstairs to a nearby hotel for the night, and fly back tomorrow. It might be an awkward plane ride home, but you’ll put in headphones, turn away, and then… you’ll walk away from Tyler James Owens for good.

With your bag nearly ready, you look around the room one last time, eyes falling on the small pile of his things on the bed. His shirts, the ones you’ve wrapped yourself in so many times, now just reminders of all the blurred lines that never became anything real. You turn away, inhaling deeply to steady yourself, willing the resolve to carry you through whatever comes next.

You reach for the handle of your suitcase, ready to walk out of Tyler’s life for good, when the hotel room door opens behind you. Your heart races, and for a second you want to pretend you don’t notice him there, but when you turn, his expression says he’s already figured out exactly what’s happening. His eyes drop to the half-packed suitcase, then back to your face. His look of confusion shifts into something desperate.

“Please,” he says, his voice softer than you’ve ever heard it, almost raw. “Please, stay. We can talk about this. Just… don’t leave. Not like this.”

You shake your head, fighting the tears that are already building again. “Tyler, I’m done,” you say, your voice trembling. “You don’t want me, but you don’t want anyone else to have me, either. You keep me close enough to feel like there’s something between us, but it’s never anything more. It’s just not fair anymore.”

You curse under your breath, blinking hard as the tears spill over. You don’t want him to see you like this—vulnerable, broken, hurt. Swallowing back a sob, you start to walk past him, head held high even as you feel yourself shattering. Just as your hand reaches for the door, he says it. Those three words you’ve been waiting for, holding onto, for what feels like forever.

“I love you.”

It stops you cold, and you stand there, hand frozen on the doorknob, not sure if you actually heard him or if it’s just some desperate wish in your mind. But then he speaks again.

“I love you,” he repeats, his voice steady, almost pleading. “And if you love me—if you can still love me—then I’m asking you to stay and just… hear me out. But if you’re done with me, really done, and I’ve already lost you… then go.”

The silence hangs between you, thick and charged. You turn slowly, meeting his gaze, and there’s a look in his eyes you’ve never seen before. Vulnerability, sincerity, something real and unguarded. He’s finally opened himself up, given you the one thing you’ve been longing to hear, but the choice to stay or leave is yours.

Your chest tightens as you search his face, feeling the weight of all the years, the almosts, the near-misses, the longing. He stands there, his hands clenched at his sides, waiting, as if he’s holding his breath.

“You… really love me?” you whisper, the words barely audible.

“Yes,” he breathes, stepping toward you, his gaze never leaving yours. “I’ve loved you for a long time. I just… didn’t know how to show it, and I was afraid if I did, you’d walk away. But losing you… that’s the one thing I’m really afraid of.”

You take a shaky breath, looking into his eyes, feeling every bit of his honesty, and for the first time, he’s offering you everything, without conditions, without holding back. The pain and hurt are still there, but as he waits, the tears in his own eyes now, you feel something else rising to the surface—a glimmer of hope.

The words are out before you can stop them.

“I love you too,” you whisper.

Tyler steps forward, his eyes searching yours as if trying to understand the storm inside you. He reaches up, hesitantly at first, as though unsure if you’ll pull away. But when you don’t, his hands gently cup your face, his touch warm and grounding. His thumbs swipe at the tears still streaking down your cheeks, wiping them away as if he can erase all the pain he’s caused with one simple gesture.

“I’m sorry,” he says, his voice thick with regret. “I’m so sorry. For not telling you sooner, for not making a move sooner… for making you feel like you don’t matter. For making you cry. You deserve so much more than that.”

You’re frozen, his words sinking deep into the cracks of your heart that you didn’t even know were there. His thumb brushes along your cheekbone, a silent apology that speaks louder than anything else could.

He takes a deep breath, his voice low but sincere. “I know I’ve messed up, but I’m asking… can you give me another chance? To do it right this time? To take you on a real date, to buy you flowers, to tell the world that you’re mine… to be proud to have you by my side. I want to do this right, with you. Will you give me one more chance?”

The weight of his words hangs between you, and you feel the walls you’ve built around your heart begin to crack. He’s standing there, fully exposed, offering you everything he’s held back for so long. The room feels smaller, the air thicker as you look into his eyes, where you see nothing but vulnerability and hope.

You swallow hard, emotions warring inside you. You’ve wanted this—wanted him—to say it, to fight for you. And now that he is, you’re not sure whether to run or to stay. But as you stand there, feeling the sincerity in his touch and his words, something shifts. The hurt, the confusion, the loneliness—it all starts to unravel, replaced by a flicker of something new: hope.

You take a breath, your voice barely more than a whisper, but clear enough for him to hear. “Last chance, Owens.”

A smile tugs at the corner of his lips, but it’s softer, more relieved than triumphant. He doesn’t say anything else for a moment. Instead, he just pulls you into his arms, wrapping you in a hug that’s full of promise, the kind that says he’s never letting you go. And for the first time in a long while, you let yourself believe him.

You stand there, still in his arms, the weight of his words sinking in. The tension that had built up over the last few days—hell, the last few years—seems to fade away in that moment. Tyler’s hands are warm on your back, his arms strong around you as if he’s holding on, not just to you, but to everything that was between you two. His breath is steady, the pulse in his chest calming yours. He doesn’t let go, not yet. You don’t want him to.

For a long moment, neither of you speaks. There’s no need to. Words were said, the hurt was aired out, and now, the only thing left is the silence between you—a silence that feels like the promise of something better, something real.

He pulls back just enough to look into your eyes, his gaze soft, full of regret and hope. His thumb brushes against your cheek, wiping away the last of your tears. "I meant every word," he says quietly, his voice steady but raw. "Thank you for giving me this chance."

You nod, feeling something inside you shift, finally able to let go of the heaviness that had been pulling at you for far too long. You offer him a small smile, your fingers brushing his lightly as you give him a gentle squeeze.

He exhales slowly, the tension in his shoulders easing. “Hey…” His voice is quieter now, almost like he's considering his next words carefully. "How about we skip the rest of the party downstairs? We can grab some pizza, put on a movie, just... relax in here."

You glance at him, surprised by the suggestion, but something about the simplicity of it feels perfect. You nod, the corners of your mouth lifting into a genuine smile. “Yeah. That sounds perfect.”

Tyler’s eyes light up, a grin spreading across his face. “Good. Go ahead and get comfortable. I’ll order the pizza. Whatever you want.”

You feel a sudden sense of relief wash over you. It’s not just the break from the chaos of the night, but the quiet, intimate comfort of knowing that it’s just the two of you, no expectations, no pressure. 

Tyler watches you for a moment, his smile softening as he watches you dig through your suitcase for something comfortable. You pull out a pair of sweatpants, replacing your jeans, and as you move to crawl onto the bed, he’s already a step ahead of you.

Before you can sit down, he reaches for the bottom of your t-shirt, pulling it up over your head. You freeze, giving him a confused look, about to protest. "Tyler, I’m really not in the mood—"

He cuts you off with a soft laugh, shaking his head. "Not like that," he says, his voice teasing but warm. "Trust me, I’m not asking for anything like that."

Your brow furrows slightly in confusion, but Tyler doesn’t give you a chance to dwell on it. Instead, he reaches down into your suitcase and pulls out one of the t-shirts you had tossed aside earlier—one of his shirts. He holds it out to you with a playful glint in his eyes. “Here,” he says, “put this one on instead.”

You take the shirt from him, still a little baffled. “What’s wrong with my other shirt?”

Tyler grins, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. He steps closer, leaning down slightly as if he’s about to let you in on a secret. 

“Because it’s not your boyfriend’s,” he says, his voice low and almost teasing. “If you’re gonna be my girl, you wear my shirt to bed.”

A smile tugs at your lips, and you can’t help but feel a flutter in your chest. It’s the little things like this—the small gestures, the inside jokes, the way he’s already making you feel like you belong—that make the tension from earlier seem a little less heavy.

You slip the shirt on, and Tyler's eyes soften when he sees you in it, the way it fits just right, the way it looks like it belongs on you. You glance up at him as you finish adjusting it, your voice quieter now, full of warmth. “This better for you, boyfriend?”

"Yes." He grins, clearly pleased with himself. "I think you look pretty damn perfect in it."

You laugh softly, and for a moment, the weight of everything that had happened earlier melts away, leaving you with nothing but the quiet comfort of his presence. You sit down on the bed, pulling the blankets up and patting the spot beside you. "So, pizza and movies?"

Tyler nods, settling in beside you, having traded his tuxedo for sweatpants and a t-shirt. His hand finds its way to yours as he lets out a contented sigh. "Sounds like the perfect way to spend the night."

And for the first time in a long while, it feels like things are exactly where they need to be.

[pink-sparkly-witch]

Tequila

Summary: Tequila has a lot to answer for when Y/N wakes up naked in Dean’s bed, but once the shock wears off, she realises that maybe it’s not such a bad thing.

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Female Reader

Rating: Teen

Warnings: alcohol consumption, mentions of smut, angst, fluff, feelings, friends to lovers

Word Count: 1k

A/N: Another December Drabble for you all to enjoy!

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The sun streams through the motel’s threadbare curtains, rudely awakening you from a deep, drunken sleep. Your head is pounding, and there’s a ringing in your ears that comes with the vague memory of the loud music playing at the bar last night.

It’d been a hard hunt to stomach: Lamia, a child-eating demon, had decided to take up residence in Grangeville, Idaho, and once you’d blasted her ass back to hell, you and Dean really, really needed to let off a lot of steam.

Luckily, there was a dive bar next door to the motel, so neither of you had to stay sober enough to drive home, and you’d both been well and truly shit-faced. You’d hustled a small fortune playing pool; he’d sung karaoke, and there were tequila shots… lots and lots of tequila shots.

A snore from behind you made you freeze. It sounded like Dean, but that couldn’t be right. Why would you and Dean be in the same bed? Whoever it was rolled over and slid their arm over your waist, pulling you into their body. You could feel something hard poke the back of your thigh… at least he’s packing, you thought before the mystery man spoke.

“Good morning, sweetheart.” Suddenly, the whole night’s events come flooding back to you at once.

One tequila shot turned into two. Two turned to four. Four turned to six, and before you knew it, you were stumbling through the door to Dean’s room, lips attached to his, nails raking through his hair and over his scalp and neck, tongues dancing a passionate tango while your clothes flew in every direction.

Dean made love to you so deliciously good. He was sweet and gentle at times. Rough and hard when you needed it. In all the years you’d known him, this was the first time you’d ended up in his bed, yet he knew your body better than you did. 

The green-eyed hunter had known how to pleasure you better than anyone had before him. Touching places no one had ever touched before. Taking you higher than you’d ever been, making you scream his name so loud the occupant next door had banged the wall.

It’s overwhelming, and you can feel last night’s alcohol swirl dangerously in your stomach, threatening to make an appearance. You lifted the covers and glanced down. Yep, definitely naked.

Pulling the sheet tighter to your body, you cautiously turn around, your worst fear confirmed as Dean’s twinkling green orbs and cocky smirk greet you.

“Well, this changes things!” he grins, and you can’t decide if you want to punch his painfully beautiful face or kiss him.

“Oh, God!” you gasp, covering your face with your hands. “This can’t be happening.”

“Y/N?” Dean asks, concern evident in his voice. “You okay?”

“I can’t believe I did you—I mean that. I can’t believe I did that,” you mumble.

“Come on, don’t be like that! We had a great time. I got you off six times, sweetheart! That’s a personal record for me!”

Dean’s words are meant to be comforting, but they do the opposite and only embarrass you more. The urge to kiss him is gone, leaving you wanting to punch his painfully beautiful, smug face.

“Seriously, Y/N, are you okay? Did I hurt you in any way? Did you not want that to happen? Because I gotta say, you were all over me at the bar, and I get that we had a lot of tequila and were drunk, but I thought you wanted me, too?”

Now that Dean had put his cocky persona aside and the real Dean was in the room, you’d changed your mind again and wanted to kiss him.

“No, Dean. I wanted it to happen. I have for an embarrassingly long time. What I don’t want is to be just another notch on your bedpost. It’s why I’ve never given in to your very persuasive charms over the years. Because I want to be more than just one night to you. And I know that’s not what you want—”

“Woah, Y/N, slow down!” Dean shot up on the bed and turned you to face him. “Did you not hear me when I said this changes things? Do you honestly think I’d risk what we have for one night? I’ve wanted you since the day we met, and last night was the first time since we met that you’ve shown any interest in me. And sweetheart, I haven’t been shy in pulling out my best moves for you.” His words and body language are so expressive and genuine, and you know he’s not feeding you a line. He likes you and he’s wanted you for a long time. All of his flirting and come-ons were real.

“And I thought ‘this is it. I finally get to call her my girl’. Maybe I shouldn’t have followed through with it when we were drunk, but I don’t regret taking my chance with you. Please tell me you don’t regret what happened.” Dean cups your cheeks to keep your gaze on his. The pain crossing his features breaks your heart. You want to tell him you feel the same way, but it’s risky.

“Honestly, I don’t remember much from last night, just bits and pieces, but I know enough to know that if that happened, I wanted it to happen,” you say, trying to ignore the look of Dean’s disappointment at your lack of memory from the night before.

“Do you really want me?” you ask, terrified this was a tequila-induced dream.

“Since the day I met you. And if you’re interested, I’d like to see where we’d go. Together. As a couple.” For once, Dean looks incredibly shy and vulnerable, making your heart swell.

“I’d like that too, De,” you smile, giggling when he grins boyishly.

“Yeah?” he checks, and you nod.

“Yeah,” you confirm.

“Then, I think you should lay back and let me refresh your memory of last night,” Dean grins as he gently pushes you back down on the mattress and pulls your legs apart.

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[corrodedcoffins-blog]

hmmm before taylor x player get together mayeb taylro gets asked about her in an interview?

Jimmy Fallon and a DM

taylor swift x fem!NHL!reader

note: not that good lol, sorry i loved the idea just got busy and i wanted to put it out sooner than later <3

Between the break for the USA and International leg of her tour, Taylor was set to appear on Jimmy Fallon. Waiting for her que, getting her hair fixed last second by the stylist, she hears the ‘Please welcome, Dr. Taylor Swift”  

The fans in the live audience cheered as Taylor stepped out onto the set, giving Jimmy a quick hug before sitting down. The cheering never stopped, “Thank you so much.” The woman said, addressing the crowd which only causes them to cheer more.

“We are just so happy you’re here! And I announced you as ‘Doctor’ this time. ""Yes. Thank you. But really I’m happy to be here.” “And we’re so excited to talk about the tour, so you’ve finished the USA leg. And you have announced The Eras Tour film, coming out worldwide October 13th! And it really is a record breaking tour!”

The crowd cheering again, an awkward smile on Taylor’s face, even after years it will always be weird to have people tell you all your accomplishments. 

“I mean, I've written some things down; the tour is already estimated to earn over $1 billion, your opening night in Glendale was the most-attended concert by a female artist ever in the U.S., and your tour has actually boosted the economy! I mean that’s amazing! That’s amazing.” “Thank you! That is so kind of you to say all that!” “Well it’s true!”

-

“And- y’know speaking of your athleticism in getting ready for the tour, a certain athlete in the NHL for the New Jersey Devils, said you were her celebrity crush. Did you see this?”

Of course Taylor had seen it. The clip was all over ‘SwiftTok’ a place she was very active in, with her secret account. And only her closest friends knew that she had in fact started to reciprocate the feelings. Growing a crush on the girl after watching clip after clip of her doing media, getting mic’d up, and answering the questions; and getting butterflies in her stomach whenever she hears Y/n mention her.

“Um, yes I did. I mean, Y/n L/n, she’s very talented and I really admire her, and how far she’s brought herself; and she is definitely far more athletic than me.”

A low chuckle coming from the crowd, Taylor thankful it was Jimmy interviewing her and not anyone else, who would want to press on the subject.

-

One thing about Y/n is she loves talk shows, reality TV, and award shows. So having a night off, Y/n decided to stay in and do her favourite activity, surfing the channels. And she happens to come across the Jimmy Fallon tonight show, with Taylor Swift in the seat adjacent to the host. And another thing about Y/n is whenever she sees Taylor Swift, she stops.

They were talking about her workout routine to get ready for the tour, which truly to Y/n sounded very impressive. Then they did something that at this time feels like the worst thing ever, yet will turn out to be the best thing to ever happen to her. 

Jimmy mentions a ‘certain athlete’. That’s what Y/n believed would end her life, hearing Taylor Swift talk about her confessing her brush on the woman. Hearing that your celebrity crush has heard what you’ve said about them, was probably her worst fear.

Before she could even hear what the woman was going to say, against her own will, Y/n turned off the TV, put on music and finally started to make dinner; something she was putting off before that became her alternative.

-

The early morning light of 5:30 am filtered through the curtains, Y/n getting out of bed and making her way into the bathroom, and getting ready; telling her google home to play her morning music, getting into her workout attire, before making her way into her kitchen and making a smoothie with her pre-workout. 

Only going on her phone in the elevator, the woman almost dropped her half-finished smoothie, and honestly she herself almost fell to the floor seeing the DM she had gotten.

Hey, Y/n

I’m sorry if talking about you on The Tonight Show in any way made you uncomfortable, but I really do admire you and I was wondering if you would ever want to go out sometime. It isn’t just you with the celebrity crush.

Lesson number one of how to kill Y/n, be Taylor Swift and ask her out.

~taglist~

@orange15quote

[callsign-muffin]

Heal Together: Chapter 7 (Bradley 'Rooster' Bradshaw fic)

Hi Friends! I have another chapter here! I hope y'all like it!

Again, every single like, comment, and reblog of my writing means soooo much to me. Thank you so much to all of you for even reading my stuff! It means the world!

Masterlist + Playlist

Content warning: death, discussion of dying and grief

Word Count: 2.2k+

Ah, ah, ah, ah, stayin’ alive, stayin’ alive… You sang in your head as you gave chest compressions with all your strength. You felt the unmistakable sensation of your patient’s ribs cracking under your weight. Though it took less than a minute for your coworkers to arrive to assist you in the code, it felt like a lifetime. The other nurses worked around you like a well oiled machine, applying the defibrillator pads and starting rescue breaths. Every muscle in your body was burning as you continued pushing on this man’s chest.

“Tap out, Y/N. I have the next round.” Carly said from behind you.

During the pause for two breaths, Carly jumped into your place with ease and took over seamlessly.

The code team arrived shortly thereafter, you quickly gave the rundown of the situation to the physicians. They went to work quickly intubating, ordering meds to be pushed, and watching the flat line of asystole. Despite everyone’s best efforts, after 20 minutes of pushing medications, ventilating, and chest compressions… there was no heart rhythm to be shocked.

“Time of death: 4:26.” Kara, a young resident said flatly.

Everyone ceased their assigned activities and took a big deep breath then slowly dispersed from the room.

You spoke softly through the lump in your throat, “Carly, can you open the window to your left?”

You stayed later than you should have, not leaving the unit until 8:30AM. You had to debrief the code with the team, do post mortem care, and make sure the docs filled out a hell of a lot of paperwork. Carly stayed with you after handing off her patient to the day team, cutting the time in half. You two finished out your shift by taking the body down to the morgue… what a way to end your work day.

“Why did you ask me to open a window when they called it?” She asked, finally breaking a long stretch of silence as you walked to the parking garage.

“It’s something I do after a patient expires. I had a preceptor tell me that it’s a way of allowing the patient’s spirit to pass on to a better place.” You explained quietly, “It’s just become a part of my nursing practice. If there’s no window in the room, I make sure the door remains open for a little while.”

Carly sighed, “That’s really lovely, Y/N… you did right by him. Even though his family should’ve signed the DNR when given the opportunity… it’s just wrong that we had to do that to him.”

You nodded, “I think family members don’t realize just how violent resuscitation is. If they knew, they’d never have let his life end like that.”

“What are you doing when you get home?” She asked.

You stopped at your car, “Cry the whole way home, take a shower, and go to sleep.”

█ ✪ █▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓█ ✪ █

Y/N never answered Rooster’s good morning text. He assumed it was busy at the hospital and that he’d see an answer when he finally got a chance to check his phone at lunch, however, there was radio silence. Weird. Luckily, he checked his instagram and saw he’d received a DM from Carly.

Carly_Pope: Hey Bradley, I wanted to let you know that Y/N had a really tough shift last night. Her patient ended up dying this morning and she seems pretty torn up about it. I just wanted to let you know so that you can check in on her if you want. I know you care about her a lot.

Rooster’s heart sank. It’s no wonder Y/N hadn’t answered his text, he was the least of her concerns at the moment. He remembered her telling him how hard it was on her to take care of patients who never get better; how it was burning her out. It was evident when she was his nurse that Y/N cared so deeply about her patients. He knew she must have been absolutely crushed. He answered Carly’s DM, thanking her for the info and then quickly texted Y/N.

Bradley: Hey Y/N, a little bird (Carly) told me you had a really tough shift last night. I hope you’re getting some decent rest and taking care of yourself. If you want, I can come over after work with some food and give you some company after I get off at 5. We can talk about it or not at all, whatever you want. 

He knew Y/N was probably still sleeping, this was her last night of three in a row. He didn’t expect an answer right away; she must have been exhausted. A couple hours later, his phone buzzed in his pocket.

Y/N <3: I like pizza. 

A few hours later, Bradley pulled up to her apartment with two pizzas in hand. One pepperoni and one cheese, just in case Y/N was a secret vegetarian or hated pepperoni. After a soft knock on her door, the door swung open and she B-lined straight into his arms, almost making him drop the pizzas. He quickly shuffled them into the apartment, placed the boxes down, and then fully embraced her with both arms.

“I’m so sorry, Y/N…” he kissed the crown of her head and whispered softly.

Her face was buried in his chest, he could feel her tears saturate his cotton shirt. But she still remained quiet, no sobbing or shaking. Just silent tears.

“He should’ve been able to die in peace,” she sniffled, “not with me slamming my entire body weight into his chest. He was 93, he deserved peace.”

Bradley gently stroked your hair, “It must have been so awful.”

She looked up at him, resting her on his chest, “We tried to tell the family he was never going to get better. We told them the kind thing to do was to let him die comfortably and peacefully. But they refused to sign the paperwork, they were convinced we could save him… We couldn’t save him. Keeping him alive felt cruel… But my hands were tied.”

Bradley gently wiped the tears from her face with his thumbs, “I can’t imagine, Sweetheart.”

“I’m just so tired, Bradley.” She whispered, “I’m so tired of watching people suffer… and sometimes even causing them to suffer.”

“Look at me,” he cradled her cheeks in his hands, “You do not cause suffering. You alleviate suffering. I can say that with 100% certainty because I’ve experienced your care. You stopped my suffering and made me want to get well.” 

A soft whimper escaped Y/N’s lips, which then turned into sobs. 

“When was the last time you ate something?” He asked, walking you to your living room couch.

“Around… midnight.” She sniveled through her sobs.

Bradley placed his hands on your shoulders, guiding you to sit down on the couch, “I’m going to get you some pizza and you’re gonna sit your pretty little butt here and eat.”

You opened your mouth to argue but he cut you off.

“That wasn’t a suggestion,” he said, “I’m taking care of you now.”

█ ✪ █▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓█ ✪ █

You laid across your couch with your head in Bradley’s lap, he played with your hair gently as the TV hummed quietly in the background.

“I’m sorry for breaking down like that.” You whispered quietly.

Bradley shook his head, “You have nothing to be sorry for, Sweetheart. Your grief and frustration were completely justified… There’s nothing worse than watching someone suffer.”

“Especially when they don’t have to.” You added, “I think families don’t realize how keeping someone that sick and fragile alive does more harm than good… it’s a disservice to them.”

Bradley’s eyes got glassy, filling with tears, “You’re right.”

You sat up from his lap so you could look at him straight on, “Your mom was sick, wasn’t she?”

He nodded, “Pancreatic cancer, basically a death sentence. But she put up a good fight until she couldn’t anymore, until it was hurting her more than it helped.”

“Was she able to go peacefully?” You asked.

“Yeah…” his voice cracked, “She was on hospice at my aunt’s house in Virginia Beach. She asked us to take her out to see the ocean one last time and we did, even though it was cold as balls in November. We took her wheelchair to the shoreline and she got her feet wet one last time… then a couple hours later, as the sun was setting, she passed in bed with me, my aunt and the nurse by her side. The family grew very close to her, my mom’s nurse, Heather. She still sends me Christmas cards.”

You placed your hand on Bradley’s shoulder softly, “I’m so sorry you lost her. But I’m glad your mother got the peace she deserved and you made it happen for her.”

“C’mere sweetheart.” He wrapped his arms around you and pulled you into his lap, “You always know just what to say.”

With your thumb, you gently wiped his tears from his cheek, “Now, I’m not sure about that… I’m just calling it like I see it.”

He sighed and took a moment to look at you, “You’re so beautiful.”

“Are you sure about that?” You looked down at your outfit of a ratty t-shirt and gym shorts and gestured towards the messy top-knot on your head.

He smiled so widely, the corners of his eyes crinkled, “Just calling it like I see it.”

You and Bradley passed out on the couch around one in the morning. Still slightly nocturnal from 3 night shifts in a row, you woke up around five before the sun started to rise. You turned to look at Bradley as he slept peacefully beside you, his usually bright and animated face was completely relaxed. It took everything in you don’t to run your fingers gently along the scars on his beautiful face, you desperately wanted to know how they got there. You desperately wanted to know everything about him, honestly. Still nestled into his side, you grabbed your phone to see missed texts from your mom, best friend from college, and your group chat with Carly, Madi, and Sam. You pulled up your email to see a subject line, Request for Interview. Holy shit. Sharp Hospital for Women and Newborns wanted to interview you for your dream job?! You had to read it multiple times to believe it. You bit your lip to stay silent so that Bradley could continue to snooze beside you; it took everything in you not to gasp out loud. With all the excitement running through your veins, you were unfortunately unable to go back to sleep, despite your best efforts. You slipped off the couch slowly, so as to not disturb the sleeping man beside you and found some quiet chores to do around your apartment. You couldn’t help but smile so hard your cheeks hurt as you folded laundry quietly on the living room floor.

You didn’t realize it, but you were humming along to the music in your headphones as you cleaned up the kitchen. It was dirty not only from the night before, but from the string of night shifts before that. Bradley initially woke up to the sun beaming across his face from your living room window but once he heard your quiet humming, he didn’t want to fight it and go back to sleep. He sat up slowly, watching you as you danced around the kitchen with your back to him, swinging your hips and wiping down the counter. He needed to get his hands on you, now. You were pulled out of your own little world when you felt two strong arms wrap around your waist, making you let out a startled squeal.

“What’s got you dancing around like that, Sweetheart?” His mustache tickled your neck with every word he spoke.

You took out one of your headphones, “Queen Dolly Parton.”

“You love that country music.” He rolled his eyes.

You turned around to face him, confused, “I’ve never listened to country music with you.”

Bradley chuckled, “You don’t remember the day we met? In the hospital? When I had that damn tube down my throat and you were bathing me, you were playing Kenny Chesney.”

“Was I?” You asked, shocked that he remembered.”

He nodded, “I couldn’t even open my eyes because of the sedatives, but I just remember hearing the music and thinking to myself ‘Who the fuck listens to Kenny Chesney anymore?’”

You gasped and swatted him playfully, “Hey! When the Sun Goes Down is a classic! Don’t be a hater!”

“You and Hangman have more in common than I thought with your yeehaw music.” He rolled his eyes.

You broke free from his arms and grabbed your phone, “That’s it! Dolly’s going on the speaker. You’re gonna learn today, Bradshaw!”

The intro to Islands In the Stream started playing and a smile spread across Bradley’s face.

“I know this song,” He said, “My mom and dad used to dance to this…”

You took his hands in yours, “Well let's make like your folks and dance.”

“You are something else, Y/N.” He whispered in your ear, pulling you closer, and swaying to the music. 

You softly sang the lyrics in his ear as the two of you danced in the morning sunlight without a care in the world.

Tag list:

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@dizzybee03

@that-gay-person-27

@alwayshave-faith

@caitsymichelle13

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@shanimallina87

[kiarastromboli]

Teach me 5 (Chris Sturniolo x y/n)

Part.1 Part.2 Part.3 Part.4

Masterlist.

Warning: angst, mention of selfharm, arguing.

Summary: After a challenging party and a disagreement with her mother, Y/N finds herself alone, confronted by her darkest thoughts. She hits rock bottom, but something prevents her from taking irreversible actions.

Note: This part will address sensitive subjects such as depression and self-harm. If you're not comfortable with these topics, please do not read. I want to emphasize that my intention is not to romanticize distress or depression. If you're struggling and need help, there are people around you. My DMs are open for anyone who feels the need to talk. You are not alone. 🫶🏻

•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•

How could I be so stupid, even though my parents warned me about boys like Chris?

Liars, manipulators who can't control their desires and needs.

And I, like the naive and innocent little virgin I was, fell for it.

I fell for it, and I believed it for two years, believed it to the point of tearing my fucking heart out of my chest.

I can't believe I could be so damn foolish.

Is this what being blinded by love is like? Is this what it's supposed to mean?

Is that why they keep lecturing us teenagers that we don't know what real love is?

If he lied to me that night, then it means he lied to me every other night.

If he truly loved me as he claimed, he would never have dared to do such a thing to me.

How could he look me in the eyes and tell me all those bullshit while he was already dating another girl?

I thought he was honest and sincere; he had the same look as the first time he said 'I love you,' and now it all seemed like a fucking lie.

I knew that sleeping with him that night wasn't supposed to mean anything, and since we were supposed to remain friends, it's not the fact that he's with another girl that hurts me.

It's the fact that he lied to me, making me believe I was the only one in his heart.

I was warned about him; Julia told me to be careful, and even my father told me it was better if I went to the other end of the country to cut contact with him.

But I didn't want to believe all that because I was charmed by a few kisses and conversations that I thought were meaningful until now.

I wish it were just a lie, but that night, just before leaving Julia's party, I saw Tess and Chris kissing in the middle of the crowd, and I felt like I was going to die of heartbreak.

He was kissing her right here in front of everyone, which means he didn't even bother hiding it from me anymore.

Was it a way of getting back at me for what i did ?

Why did he make me believe he didn't hold a grudge against me? Why did he play with my fucking heart like that?

I was so ashamed that I didn't even bother explaining the situation to Julia; I went home and locked myself in my room.

Waking up this morning, I saw a ton of missed messages and calls from Julia. Shit, I didn't think to tell her I was leaving; she must have been worried...

In addition to feeling like shit because of Chris, I naturally had to wake up with a hangover.

I'm pathetic, this whole story is ridiculous.

"You came home very late last night; I thought you'd be back today," my mother said, arms crossed, upon seeing me enter the kitchen.

Great, now I'll have to face her, and judging by the expression on her face, I suspect our conversation won't be pleasant. That's just what was missing!

"I didn't feel very well last night; I preferred to come home," I told her, opening the kitchen cupboard to take a mug.

"Did you drink?" she asked, exhaling.

"Mom, I told you it was a party for my return, and-" I barely had time to finish justifying myself; she had already resumed speaking.

"I thought you had changed, that you had improved, but I see it's worse. How do you think your father will react to this, y/n?" she said, distressed.

I sighed before she could speak again. "Seriously, y/n, do you think it's an appropriate way for a young woman like you to behave? Have you thought about what people will think of us seeing you like this?"

"Damn, don't you ever get tired of bringing everything back to you?" I snapped, and she jumped at the sound of my raised voice.

"My whole fucking life, I played the role you wanted me to play, and I never complained!" I said, furious.

"You sent me to the other end of the country without even giving me a choice, forcing me to rebuild my life and leave the people I love!"

"Do you have any idea how challenging it is to be your daughter, Mom? Do you know what it's like to have this kind of education when you grow up around normal parents and teenagers?"

"Yes, I made some mistakes, and you never-" I paused, letting out a fake laugh. "Never failed to remind me!"

"But all the good things I've done, all the good grades, all the people I've helped, everything I've done to please you and help you, you've never commented on that," I said, disgusted.

"You never congratulated me; you never said you were proud of me. And no matter how much effort I put into it, I was never enough for you or Dad!"

"I hid behind this role of the perfect little girl. I hid all my pain and kept my head high, hoping that one day you would be proud. But the truth is, you'll never be because you don't love me. You love the girl I pretend to be, but you hate the girl I am!" I said before leaving the kitchen in tears to lock myself in my room again.

This day couldn't get any more horrible than it already was.

My mother tried knocking on my door, but I stayed there in my bed.

I didn't want to face her anymore; I didn't want to talk to her. It was already hard enough.

Why was my life so chaotic? Why don't I deserve happiness?

Why do things always have to get worse?

What did I do wrong to deserve this?

I didn't even know who I was and what I was supposed to be.

At that moment, I would have given anything to go back to the other end of the country, far from my parents.

But I knew that there, I would have given anything to come back to Boston, close to those I love.

I was lost and alone.

I had no one to share my pain with and no one to hug.

It turns out the only person I might have wanted to embrace was just a liar and an opportunist.

I wrapped myself in my blanket, closed the curtains, and turned off the lights.

I spent the day like that without moving a muscle.

Night came, bringing darkness with it.

Activity on the street outside my house diminished, giving way to silence.

My mother had given up and stopped knocking on my door.

My tears flowed and rested on my face until they turned cold.

I didn't know how long I had stayed like that, but I knew it was a long time.

I kept thinking about all the things I might have done wrong in my life.

I searched for the reason why everything was going so wrong.

Was it because I wasn't grateful enough to have a roof over my head?

Was it because I had been a spoiled child?

Was it because I didn't make enough effort?

Was it because I wasn't a good enough friend? Or a good enough daughter?

Was it because I am a bad person?

Am I a bad person?

Is it legitimate for me to feel this bad?

Am I not exaggerating?

After all, there are worse things in life, right?

People are dying out there, losing their loved ones, and I'm crying because a boy lied to me?

I'm crying because I'm just an unloved child?

A child who only wants to be recognized and appreciated.

What did I do wrong, damn it?

The more my thoughts chained together, the harder it became to breathe.

I had a weight in my chest, and I could feel it deep inside me.

I had cried so much that my sinuses hurt, and my eyes were swollen.

It was hard, so hard. What was I supposed to do?

How was I going to be able to continue living with this weight on my chest?

Dark and obscure thoughts took over my mind.

Thoughts that I was ashamed of, thoughts so awful that I couldn't bring myself to recount them to you.

I wanted to do something bad; I got up and grabbed the blade from my pencil sharpener on my desk.

And before I could reach my bed again, I was interrupted by my window opening.

I turned around in shock, falling face to face with Chris. Damn it, why did he always have to do that?

The blade slipped from my fingers and fell to the floor at that moment.

"Shit," I whispered, quickly bending down to retrieve it.

"What's this?" Chris asked, eyebrows furrowed, pointing at my closed hand.

"Chris, get out of my room right now," I told him sharply.

He scrutinized my face for a moment before speaking again. "Were you crying? Y/n, what's wrong? What are you hiding in your hand?" he asked, concerned.

"It's none of your fucking business. Just leave; I don't want you here!" I said, feeling anger rise again.

"Wow, I haven't done anything. Why are you talking to me like this? Seriously, I'm getting worried. What's going on?" he asked, confused, approaching me.

On reflex, I put the hand holding the blade behind my back when he reached my level, only making him more worried.

"Chris, I'm warning you; I'll call my parents if you don't leave my room now!" I panicked before he grabbed my arm.

"What are you hiding, Y/n? Open your hand!" he said, getting angrier and trying to open my hand.

"Chris, stop – let go of me, stop!" I said, succumbing and crying when he started overpowering me.

I tried to struggle, but he had much more strength than me. It didn't take him long to open my hand and find the blade.

His expression changed; he furrowed his eyebrows and looked up at me.

"What were you doing when I came into your room?" he asked, well aware of what my answer would be.

Tears started flowing again, and this time, I was filled with shame. I couldn't even bring myself to speak, so I just stood there, looking at him with teary eyes.

"Y/n," he said in a fragile voice.

"Why?" he asked, his gaze sad.

"Chris, I want you to leave," I told him amid my sobs.

"No, not until you explain why," he said, shaking his head.

I lifted my head before taking a deep breath to try and stop my tears.

"And why don't you explain your little story with Tess then!" I told him, changing the subject.

"Wait, are you serious, y/n? Don't change the subject," he said, completely confused.

"Chris, what I was about to do is none of your business anymore, not since the moment you lied to my face, making me believe I was special to you," I said, pushing him away.

"But what are you talking about, y/n? I never lied to you," he said, shaking his head.

"Then why didn't you tell me you were with her!" I raised my voice.

"What?" he said, even more confused.

"Chris, I want you to leave; I don't want to deal with this shit right now," I said, turning my back to him.

"Y/n, I'm not fucking dating her. Where did you get that idea?" he said, placing his hand on my shoulder, trying to turn me around.

"Why do you keep lying, Chris? She came to ask me to keep my distance from you, emphasizing that you two are together!" I told him, turning around and brushing his hand off my shoulder.

"Do you really believe that nonsense?" he said, furrowing his eyebrows.

"I saw you kissing her," I said, clenching my jaw and trying to hold back my tears.

He opened his mouth to speak but closed it again, taking a step back.

I sighed. "Damn it, Chris, you're such a jerk," I said, shaking my head.

"Y/n, it's not like that. It's really not what you think," he began to try and justify himself before I cut him off again.

"It's not what I think?" I said, raising my voice and eyebrows.

"Oh, so your tongue wasn't in her mouth?" I said, crossing my arms.

"Y/n, I know it can be misleading, but..." he began to try and explain before I cut him off again with a laugh.

"Misleading?! Chris, seriously?" I said, biting my lip.

"Please, let me explain, y/n," he said, grabbing my hands, but I didn't let him. I pulled back.

"I don't need you to explain, Chris; it's very fucking clear," I said, nodding my head.

"Y/n, please," he said desperately.

"Get out, Chris," I told him sharply.

He looked at me with furrowed eyebrows, not moving.

"For God's sake, just get the fuck out; I want you to leave!" I screamed, pushing him.

"I'm not going to leave you alone when you were about to hurt yourself, y/n. You can be as mad at me as you want, but I won't leave this room until I know you're safe," he said, standing his ground.

"Oh, now you're worried about me?!" I said, laughing.

"You're getting yourself worked up over nothing. I haven't done anything wrong, y/n," he said, looking me in the eyes.

"You'd rather believe some girl you don't even know over me. You won't even give me a chance to explain!" he said, waving his hands.

"Because I don't want to listen to another one of your lies, Chris. I'm too tired for that!" I told him, breaking into tears.

"But I'm not lying to you, y/n. Trust me!" he said, advancing towards me.

"I can't. I can't. I'm not strong enough for that. I don't want to take the risk of sinking even lower!" I confessed.

"Is it because of me that you were going to do that?" he said, pointing to the blade that now rested on my bedside table.

I looked at him, eyes soaked and throat tightened.

"Oh god," he whispered, running his hand over his face.

"I'm so sorry, y/n, if I made you believe I wasn't sincere, but all this is just a mistake. I'm not dating Tess," he said, taking my hands.

"I slept with her for a long time, okay, I won't lie to you. I was sleeping with her before we got together, and when you left, I turned to her right away," he began to explain, and I just listened.

"I was a jerk to her. I made her believe it could work between us to keep her under my control, even though I knew we would never be together," he said, and I could hear the disgust in his voice.

"When I got myself together, I stopped everything with her and tried to apologize, but she kept resenting me. She knew what you meant to me; that's why she didn't waste a second to come and tell you those lies," he said, and I sank down, sitting on my bed.

"Y/n, I'm not proud of what I did. She didn't deserve that, and it's not an excuse, but when you left, I was in such a bad place that I hurt anyone who came near me," he said, sitting next to me.

"I haven't lied to you once," he said, placing his hand on mine.

"I'm sorry, y/n, believe me, I really am. I didn't want you to end up like this. I should have told you that night, but I was too ashamed," he said, looking into my eyes.

"And why did you kiss her then?" I asked, wiping my tears.

"Because she threw herself at me; I was completely wasted. By the time I understood what was happening and detached her from my lips, there might have been enough time for you to see us. She probably waited until you were around to do it," he told me.

I looked at him without answering; I was hesitant. I didn't know if I should trust him or not.

"Y/n, I know it sounds far-fetched, but I swear it's true. You can ask anyone; I never dated her," he said, trying to be as convincing and reassuring as possible.

"Chris," I said, lowering my head, "I don't know if I'm supposed to believe you. I don't know if I should trust you or not."

"It's the truth, y/n, I swear. You can ask anyone. I would never do anything to hurt you," he said, squeezing my hand.

"I need time; I don't know what to think. I don't know if I should believe you or not,"

"I'll give you all the time you need," he said, nodding.

"You should rest; it's late, and you really look tired," he said, getting up.

"I'll take this with me," he said, picking up the blade from my bedside table before heading to my window.

"Chris!" I said before he left my room, and he turned around.

"Yes?" he replied.

"I don't want to be alone," I said, letting a tear fall, "Can you stay with me until I fall asleep, please?"

He took a deep breath, "Y-yeah, of course," he said, moving closer to me.

He grabbed the chair from my desk and placed it next to my bed before sitting down.

I slipped under the sheets of my bed, whispering to him, "Thank you, Chris."

"Don't thank me; it's the least I can do for you," he said with a weak smile.

Silence filled the room for a few seconds before I spoke again.

"It wasn't just because of you, you know?" I said in a weak voice.

"Do you want to talk about it?" he asked, leaning towards me.

"I had a fight with my mom," I told him, and he nodded, signaling me to continue.

"And for the first time, I told her what I really had on my mind," I continued, sitting up against my headboard.

"I said things to her that I had never had the courage to say before, and when I went back to my room, everything hit me," I said, unable to control my voice, which occasionally broke.

"I found myself alone with my thoughts, and I started to wonder why all this was happening to me," I continued, waving my hands.

"I got lost in my own head; grief took over, and I felt this horrible weight on my chest," I said, letting a tear fall and placing my hand on my chest.

"It hurt, and I didn't know what I was supposed to do. My thoughts were screaming awful things at me, and I struggled to breathe; I felt suffocated," I said, shaking my head, and more tears began to stream down my cheeks.

"And for a brief moment, I thought that by inflicting physical pain on myself, it would get rid of all these bad thoughts," I said before biting my lip.

"I just wanted it to stop; I wanted to distract my mind. I didn't want to hurt myself, but it felt like the only solution," I said, trying to wipe away my tears.

"And now, looking back, I realize how stupid and awful it was. I don't know what came over me; it was like it was stronger than me," I added, hitting my mattress with my arm.

"I just wanted it to stop; I wanted to feel better," I said, shaking my head, and he took me into his arms.

I was so carried away by my emotions that I didn't even notice he was also crying.

"It's over now, y/n; I'm here, okay?" he said, holding me tightly.

"I'll chase away all those bad thoughts of your head for you if you want," he continued to say.

"It's going to be okay, I promise you," he said, gently stroking my head.

"I can't figure out what the hell is wrong with me," I told him, crying against his chest.

"I played a role for so long that I don't even know who I'm supposed to be," I said, clinging to his shirt.

"You're allowed to be lost; we all go through that. You'll eventually figure out who you really are; you just need to give yourself time," he reassured me.

"I know who you are, and I assure you that the person you are doesn't deserve to inflict so much pain on themselves," he continued to say.

"I just wanted to please them," I said, crying.

"Your parents?" he asked, and I nodded.

"If your parents don't love you for who you are, then they're really assholes. You deserve better than that," he said. I left his arms, wiping my tears.

"You're an amazing person, y/n, and it breaks my heart to hear you say that because you shouldn't have to beg for your parents' love, and it's just not fair," he said, caressing my cheek.

"In their place, I'd give you all the love in the world; in their place, I'd constantly tell you how proud I am of you because that's what you deserve," he said, looking into my eyes, and I couldn't help but cry.

"Thank you, Chris," I said, lowering my head.

"I'm sorry that life throws so much crap at you. If I could take away all the pain from your heart, believe me, I would," he said.

"But right now, what you need is to rest," he added.

"And I won't leave your room until you fall asleep, I promise. I'm here; you're not alone. I'm watching over you," he said, yawning.

"You're tired too," I said, smiling slightly.

"Yes, but I can wait," he said, returning a smile.

"You can sleep with me if you want," I told him.

"I don't know; won't your parents freak out?" he said, furrowing his brow.

"Not if you leave before they wake up tomorrow," I said, shrugging.

"Please, let me do this at least for you; you need to rest as much as I do," I added.

"Okay, um, do you want us to sleep in the same bed?" he asked timidly.

"You can sleep on the floor if you want, but it wouldn't be the first time you and I share a bed," I said, scratching my neck.

"Yeah, but the other times we shared a bed, y/n, it wasn't for sleeping," he said, rolling his eyes and chuckling.

"Do you think we wouldn't be able to share a bed without getting intimate?" I asked, crossing my arms.

"No, that's not what I meant. I—," he said, embarrassed, before I cut him off.

"It's okay; I'm joking. Stop being silly; come here," I said, lifting the blanket to signal him to lie down next to me, which he eventually did.

Silence filled the room, and it was a bit awkward. Chris kept tossing and turning, so I eventually spoke up, "Are you going to stop fidgeting around anytime soon?" I chuckled.

"Sorry, it's just really warm," he said, chuckling as well.

"Well, you can take off your sweater," I replied.

"Yeah, but I'm not wearing anything underneath," he said, embarrassed.

"Oh," I responded, "um, it doesn't bother me; you can take it off if you're more comfortable that way," I said, trying to play it cool.

"Are you sure?" he asked, looking into my eyes.

"Yeah, and besides, it's nothing new. I've seen you like this before," I said, feeling awkward, and he couldn't help but laugh as he took off his sweater.

"Why are you laughing ?" I asked, confused.

"Nothing; I just find this situation funny," he said, stopping his laughter.

"Oh, shut up!" I said, giving him a punch on the shoulder, and we both burst into laughter.

"I never told you, but I really love your laugh, you know?" he said without thinking, making me blush.

"Ah yeah?" I responded, embarrassed, but this time not for the same reason.

"Yeah, I find it soothing," he said, smiling.

Another silence fell. We were face to face, looking at each other without touching, as if there was a vast space between us, almost like we were afraid to make contact.

"I love your eyes," I said without really knowing where I was going with it.

"Why?" he whispered.

"When I look into them, I feel like I'm the only person on Earth," I replied, letting my heart speak.

"It's because you are the only person who truly exists in my eyes," he replied shyly.

Another silence.

"I love your lips," he said.

"I love your nose," I replied.

"I love your hips," he continued, and I could feel the tension building.

"I love your arms," I responded, quickening my breath.

"I love your hands," he replied, placing his hand on mine.

"I love your back," I said, gradually moving closer to him.

"Y/n..." he whispered, his lips just a few millimeters from mine.

"Chris," I responded, my eyes fixed on his lips.

"I love you entirely," he said in an almost inaudible voice before closing the distance between our lips.

I grabbed his collar, pulling him closer without parting our lips. Our kiss deepened, our breaths mingling, and the room's temperature became unbearable.

"Y/n, we can't," he said, separating our lips, my right hand still on his cheek.

"I know," I whispered.

He laid back next to me.

"I love you entirely too," I said, turning my head toward him, tears in my eyes.

Silence, again.

"Maybe in another universe, we got to have our story," he said, staring at the ceiling.

"I wish we were in another universe," I responded, gazing at the ceiling as well.

"Do you think in the one we are, we'll never get to have our story?" I asked him, and he turned his head to look at me.

"I don't know," he said, sighing. "All I know is that in this universe, the girl I love leaves at the end of the vacation," he added.

"I wish things were different," I said.

"I know, me too," he replied.

"Can I fall asleep in your arms?" I asked, letting a tear fall.

He didn't respond, just opened his arms for me to snuggle against his chest, which I did.

"Good night, my angel," he whispered.

"Good night, my love," I replied.

I couldn't help but shed a few tears before closing my eyes and finally managing to find sleep.

Taglist: @chrisloyalgf @christopherscamopants @blahbel668 @thematthewlover @mattsturnioloarchive @carolinalikesthings @bernardsgf @whicked-hazlatwhore @hearts4chris @mattybsbitch @sara2233445

[amberluvsbugs]

My reaction to the news you just posted:

I saw your 'I lost someone' post a few days ago, and I have no clue what was going through that person's head for them to do that. Neither you, your co-workers, nor anyone in the fandom who may be suffering from illness deserved to be deceived like that.

My heart goes out to you, and I hope you're doing okay now. 💖

(If you're comfortable clarifying this for anyone who didn't see that post and may want to know the full context (no stress if you don't want to ofc), was Ari initially claiming to be dying of cancer or was it something else? Either way, it's still disgusting what they did.)

thank you it really means a lot. ;;;; In case anyone didnt see the post I made a while back, this is the full story for clarification: This all started on April 29th when I received a DM from my co-worker Toby, saying that a Poppy Playtime fan and friend we will call Ari, who he told me was 18 and has come to know for a solid year, was set to be sedated on May 6th due to having an incurable cancer. Because of this, he wanted me to create an illustration for her before she passed which I immediately took up the offer. Now, for clarification, I don't trust what anyone says in the PPT community. I am aware of how immature and dangerous the community can be. But when it's coming from someone I know and trust, I put my trust forward on that person. I don't mess around when it comes to someone nearing their death. So I got in contact with her, made sure she saw the illustration I made for her, and for the past week after work hours, I would talk with her in VCs and chill at every chance I got to make sure she was happy and having a good time. She acted very kind and sweet to me and so many others who would join the VC as they also soon came to know of her upcoming passing as well. On Saturday, May 4th we hosted a podcast for her as a subtle final farewell to the whole server. And on Sunday evening at 5 pm, me and Toby talked with her one last time in a private vc until she had to take her final leave from Discord. At 6 pm, me and Toby stayed on call listening to the Caretaker album fully (as we both had a big fascination for The Caretaker album, Everywhere At The End Of Time) as a sort of timer to let us know when she had passed, as we knew in 6 hours she would be sedated. At 1 am on Monday morning, The album finished. We both cried so hard it gave us headaches. I only got to really know her for a short time, but at that moment, she made such an impact on me and so many others in the PPT server and community. We had made art dedicated to her and I had even laid out a post for her. Everyone was mourning over Ari’s departure and for 4 days me and Toby were a MESS of emotions of grief. That was until I received a message from Toby on Thursday, May 9th, saying he needed to speak to me urgently in call. Toby told me that he had been watching Ari's activity and found something off with it as it had recently gone active a few times. I told him that maybe it was her friend having access to her account in her passing but Toby immediately showed me proof of the activity that's been going on in another server and on her Roblox account that she had. And that's when we needed proof or confirmation. For the past 4 hours, we did our research to find leads on her. We eventually found her school which apparently confirmed that she was 14, NOT 18, and we got in contact with her parents and asked them about Ari to which they were confused about this whole thing and told us that she was here. Which CONFIRMED that she was still ALIVE. We filled in on the parents for what Ari did and she is no longer going to have access to her electronics. We were both devastated at this point and absolutely furious. Everything we did for her, and the community, was all for nothing. She used and fooled us by a means to get attention and to specifically get in contact with Toby and be forward with him as a minor. We dedicated hours and days to her, mourned and cried for her, all for it to be crumbled down into a fake death. We were beyond disappointed, me especially as I don't take kindly to this sort of thing. I don't get mad. In fact, I try to be a kind person to everyone, but the fact someone would take advantage and play death like this to us for attention is disgusting and just wrong. I have moved on from this but please don't make this a big deal. They were 14 and this will not stop me from doing what I love for the PPT community or whatnot. It's just a life lesson I will take to heart and be careful to not put my full trust in someone unless I have clarification that they are indeed going through a death-like situation like this.

[darklydeliciousdesires]

Nobody's Girl - Chapter Ten.

Previous chapters - One Two Three Four Five Six Seven Eight Nine

Taglist - In the comments, please DM to be added/removed

Words - 3,738

Warnings - Adult content throughout, minors DNI!

“Oh, look at this!” Greta announced from her seat upon the rear porch, Emily’s foot in her lap as she and her friend both jointly painted one another’s toenails their usual shade of red. “The menfolk have returned triumphant with a big ole’ corpse!”  

“And I see you’re livin’ it up true to long weekend form, sittin’ over there all fried on gin rickeys!” Angelo called back, Greta and Emily snorting with laughter. They were a little merry, feeling that they could shrug off any responsibility they felt bound by morality to uphold, returning to a relieving sight of Filomena listening to records in the lounge while drinking tea, Guiseppe off fishing in the middle distance, and Milania keeping Alessio entertained.  

“I’ll get it cut and gutted, fellas.” Robert spoke as they carried it around to the side of the house, where a small outbuilding was located. While he went about dealing with the carcass, the women guessing that the probability of a fresh venison dinner was very high that night, their men went upstairs to wash and change, joining them afterwards with a large whiskey a piece.  

“You two had a good day?” Luca asked, jerking his head in the direction of the lounge as he quietened, “and has there been any issues from her in there?” 

“Hungover this morning,” Emily mouthed, leaning a little closer to him, “Alessio came and woke me at eight, and she finally got up about forty-five minutes later. She hasn’t been unpleasant or anything, though. Just keeping herself to herself.” 

His eyebrows twitched, reaching to rest his hand on her thigh. “Good. I ain’t got no more patience for her shit.” She could understand that, knowing Luca as well as she did. His threshold for nonsense was virtually zero, and she knew too that it had planted a seed of concern, should Filomena be wandering around drunk while she was solely in charge of the kids, since the nanny he paid didn’t live in with them.  

Later that evening, once again the woman in question sat at the end of the table only engaging with her children over dinner, knocking back glass after glass of wine, Milania repeatedly looking over at her father with wide eyes. 

“Fil, you need to slow it down,” he spoke eventually once the plates had been cleared, leaning forward in his seat. “You put away a bottle to yourself. You want a pickled liver?” 

“Says he with a cognac in his hand,” she muttered into her glass, gulping on the Cabernet Sauvignon like she was drawing strength from the deep red liquid.  

His mouth tightened, muttering something under his breath that made Emily place a discreet, supportive hand to his thigh beneath the table. “I ain’t the one knockin’ ‘em back like water. You’re making our kids worry, and that ain’t gonna happen on my watch.” 

“Fine.” Standing up, she grabbed the almost full second bottle she’d just begun working her way into, a smile of gritted teeth cracking her unimpressed face. “Allow me to move so it’s not on your watch.”  

Her sneer had her daughter sighing, Emily wishing she could reach across the table to offer comfort, but knowing she’d likely make things worse if she tried. At least the kid let Greta wrap her up in a hug, advising that maybe it was time for her and her brothers to head up to bed and escorting them. 

Her own sons went to go listen to jazz in the front lounge, the guys going to play cards, Greta joining Emily outside once more once she’d got the little ones settled.  

They sat enjoying the last of the wine, neither mentioning the black cloud that was Filomena hanging over them and their long weekend away, both separately hoping she actually find a little dignity and knock her behaviour on the head. Instead, they spoke of happier things, like Greta detailing an embarrassing event from a vacation she and her family had taken to Spain a few years back. 

“So, I was there, queuing up with the boys again to send ‘em down the water slide, and this woman is behind me. She taps me on the shoulder, and I don’t know much Spanish at all save a few words to get me by, but she said something I recognised about swimsuit. I thought she being complimentary over mine, so thanked her and turned around. This broad taps me again, saying the same thing so I’m like “si señorita, gracias”, and I turn around again. She taps me a third time with these wide eyes, pointing at my ass, which I turned to see was sticking out through a gigantic rip in my swimsuit!” 

Emily was in hysterics. “Oh my god!” she cried, “and you’d been walking around like that with your cheeks on show for how long?” 

“Couldda been all damned day, dolly! Nobody told me! What in the good god is that, huh? Letting a woman walk around bare assed!” 

“I flashed most of fifth avenue last year, when we had that terrible, windy weather just before Christmas. My dress almost went over my head, I was screaming, and Luca? Did my guy help me? Did he hell. He was walking along, shoulders shaking, and I swear I have never heard him laugh like that when he finally turned to me and my beetroot face. He roared!”  

“Strange, ain’t it? When the taciturn guys really cut loose with the laughter. He don’t take enough time to see the fun side of life sometimes, your guy, but when he does, hoo, boy!” 

“Tell me about it!” she enthused, “we went to go and see that Harold Lloyd movie at the flicks a while back, Safety Last, it was. He couldn’t stop laughing, all the way home, too, and then I thought he was over it. Nope. We were in the middle of having sex and he just snorts and starts up again! I slapped him so damned hard for thinking of a movie when he should have been concentrating on me, and he’s just there, carrying on, apologising, but still laughing!” 

“Oh my god! I wouldda made him sleep on the couch!” Greta gasped through her giggles. 

“I nearly did! I was furious!”  

They continued their laughter, Emily pouring out the last of the wine, hearing the doors open softly, lighting herself a cigarette that Greta had offered. She was hoping to turn around and see Luca, so she could speak the name Harold Lloyd and watch him fall apart, but instead saw the one face she didn’t particularly relish in seeing.  

“So,” Filomena spoke, taking a seat at the top of the table, her wine glass replaced for gin, it looked. And smelled. “How many times’a day ar-you layin’ my husband, hmm?”  

Oh, god. She was steaming. 

“He ain’t your husband anymore, Fil. And it’s rude of you to be asking Emily that,” Greta spoke, drawing her shoulders up as she turned to Emily, giving her a look of support. 

“M’just sayin’, it bhetta be ha-lot, y’know. ‘Cuz if ya don’t, he’ll h-only gho lookin’ elsewhere.” She smirked, chuckling into her glass. “He does like the whores, ahfter all.” 

Emily could feel her cheeks starting to burn, Greta fixing her with a look, mouthing “stand up for yourself!” before drawing fiercely upon her cigarette.  

“You’re embarrassing yourself, Filomena,” she sighed, calming her breathing, knowing that truly, she was the one with the upper hand. She had what the woman wanted, after all. She had him. “Listen, I’d really like us to get along, for the sake of the children. I’m going to be in Luca’s life for the foreseeable. It’s important we at least act civilly towards one another.” 

Her words were fair and delivered with quiet cool, Greta smiling proudly. Filomena was only furtherly thunderous. 

“You smug lil’ cunt,” she spat, eyeing her with displeasure as she rose to her feet, wobbling, knocking back the rest of her drink. “You ain’t shpecial, y’know. Garbage! That’s s’what y’are!” 

Emily raised her eyebrows, smiling. “And yet I’m special enough for your ex-husband to be faithful to. With how vile that mouth of yours is, I can see why he looked anywhere except you for so long.”  

Greta winced, unable to stop her nervous giggles at her friend’s sudden swell of bravery, her little show of confidence, those acidic words burning right to Filomena’s core.  

It was not taken well.  

Her grip tightened upon the empty gin glass, hurling it right at Emily’s face, who ducked with impressive speed, the vessel smashing against the side of the house. “Vile fuckin’ cunt bitch! Gimme m’husband back or I’ll fuckin’ have y’killed!”  

She lunged, stumbling, the only thing stopping her being Greta reaching to push her away, Angelo and Luca appearing.  

“The fuck is goin’ on?” the latter asked, brows knitting.  

“She’s just thrown a glass at Emily, and a barrage of abuse,” Greta spoke, pushing Filomena, her hand retreating when the feral woman scratched her with a yell.  

That was it. Now she’d fucked up. 

Luca strode for her, grabbing a handful of her dress and hauling her away from the table, turning her around as he pushed her back against the house, a pressed hand to her chest keeping her there. 

“Listen to me, and fuckin’ listen good,” he hissed, grasping her jaw and forcing her to give him eye contact. “Sort yourself out, you fuckin’ tragic mess of a woman. Either you get your act together, or those kids, they come and live with me full time. I ain’t trusting a messy fuckin’ drunk to take care of ‘em, and believe me, you ever, ever threaten Emily again, and your ass is out on the streets and your alimony stops dead. You understand me?”  

He could do that easily, too. The payments he gave to Filomena were not court ordered, a huge chunk coming out of his illegitimate earnings, so there was truly nothing she could do to stop him from ceasing the four hundred a week she got to take care of herself, the children, or the house still in his name. He knew that the dissolution of his marriage was mostly his fault, but this, this drunken lashing out, it was all her.  

“Fuck off.” she slurred, pulling herself free of his grasp as she waved her hand around “Fuck all’a youse!” Off she staggered into the house, Greta saying she’d go fetch a broom to deal with the glass, Emily walking to Luca and pulling him into a hug.  

“I'm sorry, honey. That was mostly my fault, I shouldn’t have gotten sassy with her but in my defence, I was pissed off with her mouth,” she spoke, sighing, feeling his arms tighten around her before he let go. 

“Ain’t nothin’ you could have said that warranted her throwin’ a fuckin’ glass at your face, EJ. She’s the one in the wrong, not you.”  

“I know,” she lamented, rubbing his arms before moving to shift the table back, seeing Greta with a broom and newspaper in her hands emerging from the house. “I could have been a little more mature than taunting the woman that I’m the one you stuck faithful to.” 

“That ain’t immature,” he spoke, moving the chair for her, “that’s plain fact, doll.” 

“And you did start being very cordial and adultlike in the face of her childishness, my sweet,” Greta spoke, shifting past to begin sweeping the glass, Emily taking the paper from under her arm and bending to carefully begin placing the larger shards onto it. “Telling her that you really wanted for you both to be cordial at the very least for the sake of the children. That’s probably what lit her fuse, to be honest. She knows you’re the bigger woman, as well as the one her husband is doing more damned laying with than a lino company.”  

Luca couldn’t help but laugh at that, and when it was just them again back in their bedroom, he made sure to lay her very, very thoroughly.  

“When you said you’d take the kids off of her, if she didn’t get herself sorted, how would that happen?” Emily asked, lying with her leg rested over his hips, Luca’s hand drawing idle swirls across her soft skin. “We don’t have the room in the apartment. It’d be difficult with school as well, since Manhattan is an almost an hour’s drive away.” 

“Not if we moved to the city,” he replied, turning to look at her. “We need a proper place to live instead of an apartment above a gin joint. I want the kids to spend more time with me, you too, and then there’s the matter of our own kids as well.” He reached for her stomach, stroking it with a smile. “Can’t wait to see this belly all rounded with my baby.” 

Her eyes widened a little. He wanted her to have his babies? “Really? You want kids with me?” 

Chuckling softly, he leaned to kiss her. “I’m only surprised it hasn’t happened already, cara mia. We ain’t exactly been careful.”  

True, they hadn’t. Emily had considered wearing a cap to prevent such, but never gotten around to it, and for Luca, wearing a French Letter was a completely unheard of concept, unless he was with a whore who insisted. There was nobody more surprised than him that he hadn’t contracted a rampant case of the syph because of it, either. “Sounds like you’ve been giving it some serious thought, my man.” 

“I have,” he confessed, his smile broadening. “Saw a six-bedroom apartment listed on Fifth Avenue. It’s huge, and exactly what we need. Especially if my current kids come and live with us, too.” He looked a little pensive then, mouth down turning, forehead creasing. “I hope that don’t happen. Not ‘cuz I don’t want my kids with me if that’s the best for ‘em, but because it’d mean their mother turned out to be a no-good drunk. No child should have to suffer what you did.” 

Suffer she had because of Bertha, cleaning up her puke, fixing the house up, making sure she ate, checking her in the night to ensure she was still breathing. It had been a huge burden upon Emily in her tender years, and of course, she’d revealed all of it to Luca.  

“I hope it doesn’t either, for their sake, and Filomena’s.” She certainly had more charity in her heart there than Luca did, who didn’t much give a damn for his ex-wife's welfare, providing it didn’t end up hurting his children. It was nothing short of rapid, just how much he could freeze towards somebody who had tipped his temper. “But back to the apartment. An apartment on Fifth,” she spoke, her eyes widening. “Wow!” 

Seeing that excited face truly was what he lived for. “Like the sound of that, huh?” 

“Yes!” she squeaked, biting her lip. “But you’re turning me into such a spoiled princess!” 

He tightened his arm around her, kissing the top of her head. “You don’t act like one. Plus, you deserve it. Your life was all kinds of hell before you literally fell into mine.” Another kiss was pressed to her head, Luca saying a silent prayer of gratitude to god for sending him the young woman lying in his arms. Simple, uncomplicated, unpretentious and with the kindest heart he’d ever met. “Manhattan will suit ya, too. I get that you’ll probably miss your loud-mouthed buddy, but the plus side is Greta is literally just around the corner. It’s a ten-minute walk from East seventy-third.” 

She hadn’t considered that. Indeed, she would miss seeing Maggie with quite the regularity that she did, but having Greta ten minutes away would definitely make up for that. How on earth was this her life? Thankful was simply not the word. As it happened, she had much more to be thankful for, too, awaking the following morning to a Filomena-free house.  

“She left in the early hours with the children, sir,” Catherine explained, looking a little fidgety, like Luca might blaze at her for allowing her departure. “Said that we should come back in our own time when the rest of you return.”  

Emily couldn’t stop the laughter that came at seeing Greta begin to gently run a circle behind the housekeeper, arms held aloft in triumph. “The beast retreats!” she exclaimed, looking relieved that they’d get to spend their last day there with a modicum of peace restored.  

Once they did arrive back in Brooklyn, things very much shifted up a gear, Luca arranging for a viewing of the apartment on Fifth within days of their return, enjoying every second of seeing Emily walking around it with her mouth hanging open.  

“I think your wife is quite impressed, Mr. Changretta,” the realtor noted, nodding his head towards a completely spellbound Emily.  

He smiled widely, entertained by her cry of “it goes all the way back here!” at opening a door and continuing through on her wide-eyed tour. “Yeah, I think she is, too.” Wife. Hmm. He didn’t bother to correct Mr. Abraham there, but he did make a mental note about doing something to change that. “We’ll take it. Cash okay?”  

Yes. It most definitely was.  

With the owners very much invested in a quick sale, it was a mere eight weeks until the former Brooklyn residents made their way to Manhattan, a fleet of trucks parking up outside the building, new furniture being brought in, Luca only staying a short while to pay the men before he kissed his beloved goodbye and headed out to attend to business, Angelo, Donny and Enzo waiting for him downstairs in the Rolls.  

That left Emily with the very capable help of Greta and Maggie, who thrived in assisting in telling the moving guys just where to put everything.  

“Good job the last folks had taste, dolly,” the former chimed, looking all around at the mostly white painted walls. “Ours was vile when we moved. Pistachio green, I tell ya!”  

Emily laughed at her gagging, advising the guys to place her desk down by the window in the next room over, which would become her office to get her bookkeeping endeavours done in. “Well, it wasn’t in some rooms, but we had them redecorated prior to us moving. Let me show you our bedroom, it’s gorgeous!”  

Her friends followed her through the excitement, heading all the way to the other end of the hall, Maggie remarking they’d get there quicker on roller skates and to perhaps look into it as Emily swung the double doors open. All of the furniture had been brought in prior to their arrival, everything set up apart from the packing cases containing their clothes and shoes. “Ta-da!” 

“Emily! Holy shit, this is swanky!” Maggie chimed, her mouth falling open. Swanky, in truth, was putting it mildly, the women viewing it in wonder as they carefully negotiated their way around. Deep red walls contrasted with beige, and panels of wallpaper depicting floral motifs on black. Well, until they looked closer to see that they had actually been painted on.  

“Isn’t it beautiful?” she sighed, her hand finding the velvet canopy of the four-poster bed, smoothing the tied back burgundy fabric around the huge, ornate bed. “It’s half art deco chic, half vampire lair. We kind of met in the middle there.” 

“No prizes for guessing whose half is whose,” Greta chirped, loving the feeling of the sudden contrast of the beige, soft fur rug upon her feet after stepping to it from the dark stained floorboards. “I want to live on this rug! Angelo can up his game, I want this, too!” 

“Darling, you talk like your place isn’t just as opulent,” Emily spoke, picturing Greta’s beautiful abode.  

“Can one of you gals just go ahead an adopt me?” Maggie then chirped, pointing up to the gold mouldings upon the ceiling with an open mouth. They shared laughter, moving to the other rooms, the boy’s furnished in various shades of blue, and peach for Milania, as per her request. To her father, not Emily.  

“So, the kid still hates you, then?” Maggie asked as they headed to the kitchen, ready to unpack the next most important room.  

She paused before taking a screwdriver to the case screws, shaking her head. “She’s so heavily under the influence of her mother, still. I exist in her father’s life, ergo I’m the reason why her parents haven’t gotten back together. At least Filomena seems to be keeping her drinking under control, though. That or she’s hiding it better, but Milania has been keeping her dad abreast and apparently, there’s been no day drinking since they got back from the Catskills.”  

Maggie reached for her, giving her shoulder a supportive squeeze. “The not bein’ outta her head thing is somethin’ at least, darl. Milania’ll come round eventually, too.”  

Emily could only hope, but in the meantime had much more pressing matters to deal with than her boyfriend’s daughter showing her continued contempt. Once her friends had left, she continued with the unpacking, not having much left to do at all. With a chicken and vegetables roasting in the oven, she poured herself a glass of white wine, walking through her beautiful new home to go and look out at the breathtaking view of Central Park from the lounge windows.  

“How the hell did I get this lucky?” she pondered, shaking her head as she unclipped the pearls from her ears, giving the slightly aching lobes a little rub.  

“Ya fell over in front of the right wiseguy.” 

She all but jumped out of her skin. “Oh god, Luca! I didn’t hear you come in!”  

He laughed, unfastening his cufflinks and rolling up his sleeves. “Can’t believe you got all of this done in a day, and I smell dinner cooking, too.” He slid his arms around her from behind, moving her hair to kiss the side of her neck. “Should be me askin’ how the hell I got so lucky.”  

“I think we should call it a draw.”  

He kissed her neck again, the floral bouquet upon her skin making his senses tingle. “Best deal I’ve agreed on all day, doll.”  

Well, there was another one that probably topped it, but it could remain in his pocket for that moment. 

[xoxiu]

twinkle - ot7 x reader

chapter 01 table of contents masterlist

summary: she had just wanted attention, that’s why she kept texting the strange number, updating him on everything in her life. little did she know how dangerous this relationship actually was. it had been jimin’s idea to kidnap the girl, but the ability to travel across the world to actually do it had been all hoseok’s doing. convenient how some things work, right? they knew that they were destined to have their baby with them, whether she wanted it or not.

tags/warnings: kidnapping, forced age regression, spanking, noncon, mafia au, drug use, stockholm syndrome, caregiver!bts, little!reader, nonsexual, diapers, panic attacks, fluff and angst, sickfic, referenced child abuse, unrequited love

a/n: i wrote this fic in 2018 on ao3 and wattpad, but im putting it here for archival reasons ♡

They had used a burner phone to talk to the girl, not wanting to risk her tracing the number back to one of them. It had been Jungkook's idea; he found the girl's Instagram page, where she frequently posted pictures of herself, her dogs, and her friends. A quick DM and an hour later, Jungkook got her phone number and the two were texting daily.

He found out so much about the girl: her name was Ophelia, she lived in a small town in America, her dogs were named Gengi and Jingob, she had a younger brother named Henry and a 6-month-old sister named Rose, her father was Korean and her mother was Israeli. She had naturally dark, curly hair, but she frequently bleached and straightened it (right now it was an adorable baby pink). When she was born, her mother wasn't together with her father, so she was named Ophelia Felicite Potter, but her father forced her mother to change her name to Ophelia Lynn Park once they had officially started dating three months later. Henry, her little brother, was in Junior High, and Ophelia always drove him to school, since their town was so small that their Middle School, High School, and Community College were all in one building. 

Eventually, the rest of the boys began talking to her. All seven of them were pretending to be one person, a 19-year-old named Ian. Of course, Ophelia believed everything 'Ian' said. She had told them that she never had a boyfriend before, and absolutely loved the attention she was receiving for the first time. Even though she was still young, naive, and too trusting, she was still smart- both academically and morally. Whenever 'Ian' asked for nudes, she refused, which both pissed off and pleased the boys.

It was important that Ophelia never found out who they truly were. At least, not yet. The boys were heirs of one of the biggest mafia rings in South Korea, and they all knew that if the girl found out, the fake number would be blocked immediately. Even though the seven of them weren't important members in the business- their fathers and older brothers were more active than them, they were more of the poster kids- they were still expected to keep certain things private in order to keep them safe and their fathers in power. 

They decided that Ophelia would be one of the things they kept private.

'i have a surprise for you in an hour!! :D'

God, the kid was so cute. Seokjin looked down at the phone as the text alert caused the coffee table to gently vibrate. He smiled as he sent his reply.

'Why can't I have the surprise now?'

A moment later Ophelia's reply pinged.

'i'm in class right now and im fairly certain you dont want calculus as your surprise'

'Alright, I'll wait. Do your schoolwork.'

'dont tell me what to do love u xxx'

Seokjin smiled again and put the phone in his pocket. It was currently three in the morning in Seoul, so two in the afternoon Ophelia's time. She gets out of school at 2:25, so it wouldn't be long before Jin received the 'surprise' Ophelia was talking about. 

Jin idly played on his own phone, waiting for another text from the girl, when he heard footsteps coming down the stairs. He turned his head towards the noise to find Namjoon approaching him.

"Hyung, what are you doing up?" Namjoon asked, voice deep and rough with sleep. In the back of his mind, he knew he was texting Ophelia, but if something important had happened he wanted to know. 

"Ophelia's getting out of school soon and she has a surprise for us." Namjoon hummed in response. He never was as obsessed with Ophelia as the other boys, but he had talked to her quite a few times. 

Jin grabbed Namjoon's hand and guided him to lay on the couch with him. Namjoon immediately curled into his boyfriend, breathing in the lingering scent of his cologne. One of Jin's hands began stroking the younger's hair while the other continued aimlessly scrolling through his emails. 

Namjoon quickly fell asleep again, and the burner phone pinged soon after that. Jin carefully took the phone out of his back pocket, trying not to wake his sleeping beauty, and became excited as he saw Ophelia had sent a picture message. He quickly opened the messaging app and cooed at what the girl had sent. 

She had sent a mirror picture of her in a dress. The dress was a flowing red ball gown with gold accents on the waist. Ophelia looked absolutely beautiful in it, and Jin quickly saved the picture to send to his real phone. 

'prom is in a month and i really wish i could go with you. what do you think of this dress? someone told me this shade of red suits me but idk'

Prom. Ophelia would be going to prom with someone other than Jin or one of the other boys. While one of them taking her was unrealistic and impossible, it still pained him to think that it wouldn't be him. 

'You look stunning. I wish I could see it in person.'

'&lt;;3 :)'

Jin put the phone back on the table, smiled, and closed his eyes. He was absolutely whipped.

Once the rest of the boys woke up, the dress was the main discussion at breakfast.

"I think she looks adorable in it," Taehyung said, "Just look at her face in the picture- it's obvious she's in love with it, too."

"But its too mature for her! It shows off too much!" Jimin said, his voice distressed. 

"Jimin, she's not our baby yet. Once we have her then you can decide what is and isn't too big for her," said Namjoon. 

For the past month, they had been preparing a plan to bring Ophelia to Korea with them. They wanted her to be their Little, and them be her Daddies. Some of them were more excited than others (Jin and Jimin were both ecstatic about this), but all of them had warmed up to the idea. Hoseok, Jimin, and Taehyung had gone crazy over putting together a nursery and clothes shopping. It had been easy to find childlike clothes in Ophelia's size, including a car seat, since Ophelia was rather small for her age. 

They had decided what they would be called almost as soon as they got the idea of Ophelia being a Little. Namjoon and Jin would be the main caregivers, with Namjoon being Appa and Jin being Eomma. Yoongi and Jimin would also be her caretakers, Yoongi being Daddy and Jimin being Mommy. Hoseok, Taehyung, and Jungkook would be less of caretakers and more of playmates, but they still wanted to spend time with Ophelia. 

Luckily, they had a business meeting in America in two weeks, which would be relatively close to where Ophelia lives (thanks to careful mapping done by Jungkook), so they could take her and bring her home with them with ease. The boys knew Ophelia would have a much better life with them.

[sparks9793]

How about another sneak peek?

This one is from the next chapter of 'I'm so close to believing', cause yes, I haven't forgotten about my other on going fics 😊

“How was the time away?” 

Brian had just come back from a weekend stay with his partner’s parents, in Mallorca. “It was good – honestly it was pretty nice to completely get away from everything, even if it was for a bit, and even if it was with Kolten’s parents.” 

“That sounds lovely,” the tiny redhead nods, unable to help herself as she keeps reaching for more crackers. “It’s good you got to relax for a bit.” 

“Work has been far too stressful lately,” Brian nods. “Aren’t you getting some time off soon as well?” 

Hayley rolls her eyes, waiting until she’s finished chewing her carrot before speaking. “I guess. It’s not really going to be relaxing for me though.” 

He shoots her a sympathetic smile. “It’ll be okay – if things get too bad tell me, and I’ll come over with some kind of emergency.” 

“I’ll hold you to that,” she laughs, not wanting to think about the reason she’s going to be taking some time off work. 

“Don’t think about that just yet,” Brian tells her, a smile lining his lips. “How’s work going otherwise? Oh! Anything new with the painter boy?” 

Hayley bites her lips together, watching the bowl of homemade hummus as if it was the most interesting thing she’d ever seen. She knew Brian could read her well, and she knew that as soon as she averted her gaze that he’d be onto something. 

“Something did happen?” Brian repeats the question, voice rising in excitement as Hayley tries to hold back her little smirk. 

“He ate me out on the floor of his apartment.” 

“I’m sorry, he did what?” Brian springs up, back straightening out as he turns to fully face his best friend. “Last I heard you weren’t even sure if he was even going to make a move on you.” 

“Well…” Hayley trails off, not knowing what else to say. “He did.” 

It had been three days since she'd last seen Taylor. She’d had her usual two days off, coming back to work just this Saturday morning. 

After the little distraction from their painting session, she had pulled her dress back over her knees. And with starry eyes and warm cheeks, she’d sat up with legs pressed to his and her arms around his neck to pull him in for a sloppy kiss. 

He had tugged her closer to him until she was practically sitting on his lap, muttering near nonsense against her mouth. “You’re unreal, you know that?” and “Sound so good saying my name like that, could listen to you for hours.” 

Just the mere thought brought butterflies to Hayley’s stomach; which was something she thought only happened to protagonists in romance novels. 

The tiny redhead could still feel his warm breath against her skin and the sweet nothings he had kissed onto her lips. 

“Was he good?” 

Brian really didn’t need to ask; he could tell by the look on Hayley’s face. She nods, confirming his suspicion with a smile bit between her teeth. “Really good.” 

“I love that,” He chuckles lightly. “Anything else happen? And wait, when exactly did this happen?” 

“Few days ago. I went over to his to do some painting with him. I actually ran into him last weekend when I was out which was when he first kissed me.” 

“What? You never told me that.” her best friend mocks a pout, not actually upset with the tiny redhead. 

“I haven’t seen you!” Hayley laughs, always favoring to tell him things in person rather than on the phone or through text.  

“I suppose…” he laughs. “Have you seen him since?” 

“No,” Hayley shakes her head. “I mean it was only three days ago.” 

“Do you have plans to see him again?” 

Again, she shakes her head. “No – I don’t know. I realized I don’t even have his number or anything, I usually just see him at my work.” 

“You could always DM him,” Brian nods, reminding Hayley of the time they both had spent scrolling through his Instagram. 

“That’s true,” she bites at her bottom lip. “I don’t know. I don’t even know what he wants or anything.” 

Much love, Emx

[racinginchid3nt]

I’d Probably Still Adore You | Part Eleven

Y/N x Lance Stroll, Y/N Best Friend x Pierre Gasly

In which a night at the club and a game of never have I ever turns into something new

Inspired by 505 - Arctic Monkeys

Warnings: cyber bullying, threats

Previous | Next

————————————————————————

Friday

From the start, Friday was horrible. You woke up hungover, the wine from last night mixed with minimal amount you ate due to Lance’s distraction, was a bad combination.

Replaying the night over and over in your mind just made everything worse. Lance’s reaction, your ruined dress, having to leave the event early, blowing off one of the only other drivers you knew, and the overly aggressive fans and paparazzi.

SHIT. The fans and paparazzi.

All thoughts of your hangover left your mind, tumbling out of bed to find your phone. Opening your Instagram and praying you would luck out failed you. Sure enough you had been tagged in dozens of photos from last night.

Photos of you and Lando leaving the hotel, of the two of you arriving at the venue, of you walking in, of him smiling at you, etc. The comments were brutal, ripping apart your appearance, commenting on your dress, how he deserves better, etc.

It wasn’t until you opened your messages that you realized how much worse it could get. Hundreds of dms stared back at you, filled with vile things. Talking about how you’re a gold digger, threats, truly saying the absolute worse things they could come up with. You wanted to stop, to ignore the things people said, but you couldn’t look away.

A call came through from Y/N Best Friend. Declining it you continued reading. And then another came through, declining it again the cycle repeated. Over and over declining calls from Y/N Best Friend until she finally stopped.

It took only a few minutes before you heard the pounding on your hotel door.

“Y/N let me in!”

Trying to ignore her, you curled in on yourself.

“Y/N if you don’t let me in I’m going to break down this fucking door!”

The banging continued, and inescapable noise reminding you of the hangover. As the door handle started to giggle, you rose from the bed and answered the door.

“What?” You asked, trying to steady your voice.

“Babe are you okay? I saw the comments on your Instagram posts. Those were so uncalled for. How are you doing?” She asked.

“Fine. I don’t know. It is what it is. I should have known better I guess.” You replied.

“How can I help?” She asked.

“Can you just give me some time to myself? Im hungover as fuck and I just want to go back to bed.”

She left you with the promise that she would call and check on you later, threatening that she would show back up at your door if you ignored her.

————

Free practice had gone okay. Lance was happy with car, and the engineers were excited for tomorrow’s qualifying. But his mind kept replaying last night. How she had yelled at him, how he had reacted to seeing her with Norris, what happened during dinner, etc.

He regretted letting her walk away last night, but the last thing he had expected was for her to yell at him like that. He owed her an apology, having overstepped massively last night. Walking through the paddock he made his way to the Alpine energy station. Y/N Best Friend sat outside alone, scrolling through her phone while she ate lunch.

“Hey Y/N Best Friend, where is Y/N at?”

She gave him a funny look.

“She’s at the hotel. Why?”

Unsure of how to explain himself to the girl sitting in front of him, he opted to give her a small nod and turn to head back to the Aston Martin energy station.

Last race she had come to every day, media, free practice, qualifying, and the race. It didn’t sit well with him that she had missed yesterday and today’s events.

————————————————————————

Saturday

Y/N Best Friend had shown up at your door early Saturday morning, refusing to let you skip the days events. She had no idea about what had happened with Lance, and wouldn’t understand if you tried to explain. Putting on a fake smile, you joked with her as you got around for the day, focusing on the fact that you would get to spend time with her.

The day passed by in relative normalcy. Fans had taken photos when the three of you arrived at the track that morning, but you had been able to continue on through security. Lando had made small talk with you on his way to the Mclaren garage, asking if you were feeling better after Thursday night.

You gave Carlos a small wave as you passed by him and the Ferrari garage after Q1. The Spaniard pulled you aside, giving you a friendly hug and making small talk. You did your best to keep the fake smile on your face, ready to return to the hotel room. Carlos paused mid discussion, staring at you for a moment.

“Are you okay Y/N?” He asked, concern filling his voice.

“Yeah I’m fine. Just a little tired, that’s all.”

His facial expression made it clear that he didn’t believe you. Pulling you in for another hug, he stated:

“I know we’re not friends or anything, but if you need anything let me or Lando know okay?”

You gave him a small smile, wishing him luck in Q2 before returning to the Alpine garage.

————

On the way back to the hotel you decided to brave social media again, and just like that the weekend got even worse. Your tagged photo notifications piled in as soon as you opene the Instagram app, but it was no longer just photos from Thursday night with Lando. A series of pictures of you and Carlos from earlier that day stared back at you, photos of your two hugs and him whispering into your ear. They definitely looked flirty, and the speculation from the various captions alluded to as much.

As you scrolled through more of them, it got worse. Looking back at you was a grainy photo of you and Lance from Thursday night. The photo showed him with his hand on your waist, huddled in the corner of the dinning room before dinner that night.

Multiple collages from the weekend contained the photo compared to Lando and Carlos. The previous dating rumors had suddenly turned to discussions of you cheating. You weren’t sure how what was an exciting weekend had suddenly turned so miserable.

You needed to get your mind off of everything. And while there were definitely better ways to do it, the idea of getting drunk and watching sappy movies sounded the most enjoyable way to spend the night.

Pulling on a hoodie and sweats, you tightened the strings from your hood and made your way out of the hotel’s back exit and to a nearby market. Bottle of wine in one hand and your purse in the other, you made the short walk back to the hotel. Reaching the side door you pulled, but the door remained closed. The door was a one way exit, letting you escape the hotel but not sneak back in. You turned, making your way to the main entrance.

Unsurprisingly the sidewalk was crowded with fans and paparazzi alike. Hanging your head down you pushed through the crowd to make your way to the entrance. The crowd was tightly packed, pushing you around as you fought through it. Your hood fell down, revealing your face. Within an instant the crowd noticed. Cameras turned and voices rang out as you clutched the bottle and tried to push through.

“Is that Y/N?”

“It’s Y/N!”

“Are you dating Lando?”

“I can’t believe you cheated on him with Carlos!”

“Whore!”

“Slut!”

The crowd of fans turned angry quickly. Hands reached out for you, pushing and pulling you. You felt a hang grip your hair, yanking your head backwards. Stumbling, you dropped the bottle of wine. Pushing to get through to the doors you felt someone kick you, another person grabbing at your arm. Elbows hit your sides, fans rushing at you from all sides. As you neared the front of the crowd, one of the security guards at the hotels door pulled you over the barriers and usher you into the hotel lobby.

Tears streamed down your face as you ran to the elevator, thanking your lucky stars that the doors opened as soon as you hit the button. Making it back to your room, you collapsed on the hotel room floor. Shaking and sobbing you pulled out your phone, thankful that you had managed to kept your grip on it.

Opening your airline app, you scrolled through flights, finding the soonest departure back to the Barcelona airport. You charged it to your card, ignoring the price as a concern for another day. Haphazardly throwing your clothes and toiletries back into your bag you called an Uber to the side door, escaping into it and making you way to the airport.

As you settled into you seat on the late night flight, you opened every social media app you had and deleted your accounts. And as the announcement came to power off your electronics, you thumbed through your contacts, blocking Lance, Lando, and Carlos, before deleting their numbers, hoping that maybe, just maybe, you could go back to life before Spa.

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A/N:

The first part of the Pierre X Y/N Best Friend story is live here

Please respond to the poll when you get a chance!

[2-sleepy-for-this]

Something to Remember pt. 3

the long awaited au is back! I tried to get this out as fast as I could, hope you guys enjoy it and like always please dm me any oneshot ideas or au questions!

(´∀｀)

Tw ~ brief panic, arguing, brief falling (no injury), borrower Tommy

word count ~ 1.5k

There was a quiet sigh of relief as Tommy pulled Tubbo back into the safety of the walls. The two borrowers looked at each other in silence before hugging tightly, unbalanced enough to almost send them to the floor.

Tubbo Let out a shaky laugh as Tommy took deep breaths. They had just talked with a human and survived.

Granted, the human was ranboo.

But it still counted to them because of their old friend’s lack of memory.

“So… what now?”

Tubbo looked nervous, still shaking from adrenaline as he asked.

“We gotta get outta here.”

Tommy looked serious. It was rare and scared Tubbo slightly whenever his typical jokester of a friend was dead serious.

“But… Ranboo…”

“-is a human and doesn’t remember us. Now that we know he’s gone, we can leave.”

The shorter borrower made a quiet, sad whine at Tommy’s words. Yes, that whole experience was terrifying and nothing like how Ranboo was with them before, but… they weren’t cruel.

“Are we sure he’s gone, though? They let us go so Ranboo still isn’t as dangerous as other humans… maybe it’s best we stay.”

Tommy opened his mouth to respond, but briefly paused at the desperation in his best friend’s eyes. He sighed and closed his eyes. Tommy needed to stand his ground.

He couldn’t lose his only other friend.

“We need to go, tubs. I’m sorry, but you know the rules.”

Then Tommy turned away, not wanting to see the hurt on Tubbo’s face, walking deeper into the walls to get some space.

Tubbo watched his back as Tommy left, disappearing into shadows that even with his heightened night vision he couldn’t see through.

Then he was alone.

Next to the hole to Ranboo’s room.

A plan came to his mind, an amazing and foolproof plan.

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

Ranboo couldn’t get to sleep.

How could they when they just completely screwed up that social interaction? What was he thinking? He acted so weird and now he’d probably never see them again. Why did they suck at first impressions?

Well, maybe first impressions. The smaller one knew his name already somehow, and he feels like he knows them. 

Either way, they’d most likely never get another chance to see those to ever agai-

“Hey! Ranboo!”

Ranboo looked around the room as their name was called, locking eyes with a small figure on his bedroom floor.

It was one of the little guys from less than an hour before. What was he doing here? Where was the other one?

When Ranboo looked at him, the little guy, Tubbo, froze. He looked scared, like he’d run at any twitch of Ranboo’s body.

They both knew Tubbo wouldn’t get very far at this point, though.

“You-… Tubbo? What are you doing here?”

Tubbo jumped slightly at his name being used. Or maybe Ranboo was just imagining things.

“I just think… we should get to know each other! I mean, we are roommates after all, bossman.”

Ranboo was confused, roommates? Did that mean the two tiny guys lived in his room?

Well, they supposed that didn’t matter since he’s technically the guest here now, having moved out over a year ago.

“So… what do you want to know?”

Ranboo was surprised by how easily he felt comfortable opening up to Tubbo, but didn’t take back his question.

The two talked for hours about everything, from what college is, to how borrowers get resources. It was nice having someone to talk to. Ranboo was in the middle of explaining what a phone is when Tubbo suddenly jumped up from where he was sitting, having moved to the bed after the first hour.

“Wait, is the sun up already!?”

Ranboo jumped at the shout before looking at his phone. It was almost six in the morning and the sky was beginning to brighten.

“I- sorry bossman, I gotta go! If Tommy notices I’ve been gone for so long, he’ll kill me! Especially if he knows I was talking to you!”

The human nodded. It would not be good if the other borrower caught them. It would be better to keep this meeting a secret.

“It’s alright, Tubbo, I’ll… see you later?”

Ranboo realized then that once Tubbo went back in the walls, there was no guaranty they would be able to meet again.

“Well.. only if you can catch me first!”

Tubbo grinned as he jumped off the edge of the bed.

Ranboo panicked immediately, nearly falling off the bed themself while attempting to grab him.

As they leaned over the edge of the bed, they sagged with a sigh of relief when they saw that the insane borrower had landed comfortably in a pile of Ranboo’s comforter hanging off the bed.

Tubbo chuckled at the human’s concern and stretched out on the soft material before standing up.

“Bye-bye, big guy!”

The borrower waved dramatically, starting to walk away from the bed.

Ranboo saw just how small his new friend was as he walked the length of the room. It took him much longer than the couple of steps it would take Ranboo. It was an odd sight for Ranboo, especially this early in the morning.

They watched Tubbo disappear behind their bookshelf, probably where his home entrance was. Then Ranboo was alone in the room again.

What now?

So there are… borrowers living in the walls of his childhood home? What does he even do with that information?

Does he tell his parents..? But Tubbo said they were a secret… 

Ranboo didn’t know what to do at this point… but something still bugged them.

Why did they both seem so familiar?

That was the one thing that he didn’t understand… and talking with Tubbo just made his head hurt.

It made no sense to Ranboo how these creatures had been living here without ever being noticed and yet somehow everything about them was so… nostalgic.

Like the childhood memories he didn’t know he had. Why was that?

Ranboo couldn’t keep thinking about it. They were too tired, had too much of a migraine.

So, they decided to just go to sleep and stop with the questions they didn’t have any answers to.

___________________

Tubbo ran through the wall tunnels, his eyes adjusted to the lack of light and he knew the passageway from Ranboo’s room by heart at this point.

He hoped Tommy wouldn’t ask too many questions… maybe if he was lucky Tommy wouldn’t question him at all? He made it to their main base, their home.

“Where were you?”

Tommy stood in the main room with his arms crossed, a suspicious look on his face.

“Look, toms…”

He sighed. Tubbo couldn’t just lie to Tommy, his friend.. his only family.

“I… was with Ranboo.”

Tommy gasped, but wasn’t all that surprised by the truth. It made sense Tubbo would do that right after Tommy told him not to.

“Of course you were..”

Tommy grumbled. Tubbo couldn’t help but look away. He was never good at disagreeing with Tommy, especially about something so important like moving… but they had to have this conversation.

“Tommy. We shouldn’t move.”

“Wha- we have to! The borrower code- “

“Who cares! We never followed that anyway! The only difference now is that Ranboo is just… a bit lost.”

Tommy scoffed at that. It was so much more than that to him.

“They aren’t even Ranboo anymore… they don’t remember us, Tubbo!”

“Well, maybe they would if-! I-if…”

Tubbo started to yell, but the words died on his tongue. It wasn’t fair to bring that up… it wasn’t fair to blame anyone for what happened back then.

Tubbo sighed.

“Just… we can’t give up on him again…”

The tension between them died down, both borrowers didn’t want to fight anymore, they hated fighting with the only other person they had…

“Fine…”

Tubbo perked up at the unexpected response from his pseudo brother.

“What?”

“Fine, we… can try to talk to him…”

Tubbo looked at Tommy for a moment, shocked that Tommy of all people would agree to something and not be totally stubborn. Then Tubbo gave a sheepish smile and fidgeted with his hands.

“So… about that..”

“You talked to them already, didn’t you?”

Tubbo couldn’t help himself when he started laughing loudly at Tommy’s unimpressed look, not used to the childish borrower ever acting this serious. Soon enough, both were cackling at the absurdity of the whole situation.

The next few hours were filled with Tubbo’s retelling of speaking with Ranboo and eventually leading to the borrowers telling old stories of nostalgia back when they were a trio.

After all of the memories and jokes, Tubbo looked at Tommy with puppy eyes in a silent question. In response, Tommy sighed in surrender.

“Alright, tomorrow I’ll come to see him with you… but only to make sure he keeps his hands to himself!”

There was a victory cheer from the shorter borrower. That night, though there would be a lot of anxiety tomorrow, the two borrowers seemed to sleep with a weight lifted off their chests.

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hope you enjoyed and remember to eat, drink and sleep! (I’m such a hypocrite :) )

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tag list:

@da3dm @i-am-beckyu @lunar-but-little

[jouliejihan]

𝑳𝑶𝑽𝑬 𝑶𝑵 𝑨𝑰𝑹! - hueningkai × fem reader

𝑺𝒀𝑵𝑶𝑷𝑺𝑰𝑺: When Y/N and her eccentric friends decide to host the 'Love On Air' podcast, they think they can heal the heartaches of all HYBE Uni students.  But when love begins to bubble up behind the scenes, Y/N finds herself at the center of a messed up love triangle. While she tries to save broken hearts, a shy student, Hueningkai, does everything to win her heart. With clumsy dating advice, accidental encounters and a chaotic podcast, will love triumph or end up in a hilarious mess?

"Tune in with us guys, cause Love is On Air!"

TAGLIST (open, send ask or comment to be added) @full-sunnies @unh0ly-dr3am3r @enhacolor @mackjestic @beabeanice @beoms-sugar

previous • masterlist • next

4 - heart on track

From: rectory@hybeuni.com

To: kimyn@hybeuni.com

Subject: ANS: Dorm Room Request

Dear Kim Y/N,

We hereby inform you that a vacancy has opened in one of the rooms in our dorms. It is on the 2nd floor, room 47. The key is in our storage room, please pick it up to speed up your move. If in doubt, look in my office.

Yours sincerely,

Park Jiwon, Dean of HYBE University of Media, Technology and Arts

⊹⊱•••《 💗 》•••⊰⊹

Y/N was immersed in her Excel spreadsheets, trying to find inspiration for the next episode of Love On Air. Sitting in her bedroom in Jay's apartment, she alternated between analyzing data and constantly playing soft Seventeen songs, trying to find that much-needed creative boost. She tried to resume the last song from the beginning before it ended, in an attempt to let her ideas flow, however, the ideas seemed to escape her hands, she typed a line in her spreadsheet, but it erased it, she tried to stipulate a time for each segment, but some she thought took too much time, others that it was insufficient, leaving her frustrated in this way. Y/N sighed and decided to take a break. At that moment, Jay knocked on the door.

"Noona, can I come in?"

Y/N paused the music, removed the headphones and allowed Jay to enter. The two sat together, discussing the progress of each segment of the podcast. Jay offered his support and contributed his own ideas, bringing a fresh perspective to the project. She opened Excel and showed him her work. At the top of the spreadsheet was a merged cell with the title: "Love On Air Schedule." Below it was another one filled in with the week of the broadcast and its time, 10 P.M. And in the final line, filtered columns with each day and its respective time, all painted with the pink palette corresponding to the page on Twitter, however, the only ones that were filled in corresponded to the moments of the first transmission, when she told her experience during her 2 th week at HYBE Uni, Beomgyu's gossip and closing at 10, 10:15 and 11:15 PM respectively. Other than that, all the others were empty, so Jay knew exactly what was going on.

"Couldn't think of anything?"

"No." she sighed "We didn't get any messages in our DM so it's harder to think of everything."

"I think we can start by changing the start time, why did you choose 10 PM?"

"Because that's when I'm most productive."

"It's an idea, but nobody listens to a podcast at that time. It explains why your listenership is so low."

"So what do you suggest?"

"Usually peak listening times are between 6 AM, 5 PM and 12 PM, but since our classes are in the morning, the best time for us would be between 12 PM."

"That's when we have our lunch break and when our afternoon colleagues arrive! Jay, you're a genius!"

His face reddened with his friend's praise, but he thanked her, so they changed the time of transmission in the spreadsheet, leaving now, the subjects for each time, but in this topic, she still had difficulties, fortunately, Jay was there to clear your doubts.

"First of all, a brief introduction to the podcast shouldn't be missing, with you or more anchors. 10 minutes for that alone is enough."

"And then?"

"How about song requests? It's great for our listeners to get in the mood."

"I love this idea! But how many will we take per day?"

"It depends on how many stories and advice they send us, but since this is the first week, we're going for 20 minutes for song requests."

So he continued to contribute his own ideas, bringing a fresh perspective to the project.

However, hunger began to tighten, and fatigue began to set in. She rubbed her eyes, feeling the weight of exhaustion. Jay noticed and suggested they take a break to eat and get some rest.

"Noona, I think we need some time to recharge. Let's get some snacks and then you can take a nap right here before moving into the dorms."

She nodded, feeling grateful for his suggestion. He took out his cell phone and opened his delivery app.

"Want something to eat, noona? It's on me."

"No Jay, I can't take it!"

"But I insist! You deserve it!"

"Alright!" she grinned "Then I'll go for some tuna kimbap with cola, you?"

"Don't worry, there's plenty of ramen here, but I'll take your order first, okay?"

Half an hour later, the two were sitting on the living room floor, enjoying their snacks, to break the ice, Jay introduced a new subject, praising his friend's dedication.

"Did you make that spreadsheet?"

"I did." she smiled as she took a sip of her cola. "I have this habit of organizing every detail of the day into lists or spreadsheets, so I can feel productive and have more pleasure in following the routine."

"Not all people have that kind of mindset, you know? That's one of the things that makes her so special."

"Thanks, Jay."

When the two finished eating, they threw the disposable packaging in the trash and she went straight to her room, wearing his blue Snoopy pajamas with plaid pants of the same tone and laying down on his bed. After getting into bed, Jay remained beside her, knowing her habit of falling asleep listening to her Seventeen playlist. Carefully, he placed the headphones in his ears, turned the volume down a bit, and picked up the music where it had left off.

Peaceful melodies filled the room, enveloping her in a serene atmosphere. Jay put the dolphin plushie he got from Jake in her arms, knowing it would be comforting for her.

Before leaving, Jay leaned over and placed a soft kiss on her forehead, wishing her a good night's sleep.

"Sweet dreams noona, I'll miss having you here."

With a gentle smile, he left the room, leaving her to rest in peace. Seventeen's songs continued to play softly, enveloping her in a peaceful atmosphere as she drifted off to sleep, feeling protected and supported by Jay's comforting presence.

⊹⊱•••《 💗 》•••⊰⊹

Y/N was excited to finally settle into her new room in HYBE's dorm. However, her excitement turned to frustration as soon as she set foot in the room and was faced with a chaotic mess. Wet towels on the bed, dirty tiger-print clothes strewn across the floor, and misplaced gym gear.

She couldn't believe the decayed state of the room and, without hesitation, started to clean up the mess. She was determined to make the environment pleasant and orderly. However, her mission was cut short by a surprising encounter.

As she was folding one of the T-shirts, the bedroom door slammed open, revealing a visibly irritated young man. It was none other than Kwon Soonyoung, her new roommate.

"Ya, what are you doing?!"

"Cleaning up this mess! Who can stand living in a pigpen?!"

"But no one gave you permission to go through my stuff, girl, get the fuck out!"

"Fuck no! I'm your roommate so you must live by my rules!"

"I can't believe I'm forced to live with a controlling freak who doesn't understand the concept of personal space! It's unacceptable!"

"And I can't believe I have to live with a pig that feels good living in its own filth! It's unbearable!"

The discussion intensified, with Y/N ​​and Soonyoung exchanging heated words. The tension and stress of the situation built up in loud screams that drew the attention of the entire hallway, an entire crowd formed at the bedroom door, causing her to finally get tired.

"You know what? I don't need this shit! I'm done trying to be polite and living with someone who devalues ​​shared space. Bye!"

She pushed through all those people and slammed the door hard, the sound echoing throughout the hall. She felt a mixture of relief and frustration as she left the room, leaving Soonyoung behind.

In the heat of the moment, she didn't know where she was going to go, but she was determined to find a solution to this untenable situation. She knew she needed a more harmonious living environment to fully enjoy her college life at HYBE.

Still furious from her argument with Soonyoung, she was determined to find a place where she could calm down. As she walked down the hall, her mind was still seething with frustration, causing her not to pay much attention to her surroundings.

Unintentionally, she bumped into someone coming from the opposite direction.

"ARGH, C'MON YOUR RASCAL! Oh…" Y/N's face flushed and her voice trembled.

Joshua, who had just been hit by the sudden scream, was momentarily startled and confused. He looked at her and then his surprised expression gave way to a mixture of embarrassment and nervousness.

"Oh… Hi. Y/N, right?"

"Yeah. How do you know your name?"

"From Love On Air. I saw some tweets in my timeline and then…"

"Oh my god! I hope you don't think I'm a pathological liar!"

"Why would I think that when I barely know you?" he snorted

"I'm sorry! I'm such an idiot!"

He shook his head, a shy smile creeping across his face.

"It's okay. It happens."

The two were silent for a moment, feeling the tension of the situation and the presence of the past that enveloped them. Joshua looked more embarrassed, remembering the rumors spread by Beomgyu and broadcast in her podcast's 1st episode.

Noticing the uncomfortable atmosphere, she tried to diffuse the tension with a forced smile.

"Well, I guess... let's try to forget about this disastrous encounter, shall we? After all, we have a university life ahead of us."

"Yeah, definitely. Let's move on and leave the past in the past. Good luck!"

She nodded and the two went their separate ways, each carrying with them the memory of that brief but embarrassing encounter. But when realization hit her, she realized the mess she'd made.

"Shit! I forgot to ask his name!"

A/N: Bold of you to assume that I WOULDN'T bring our gentle sexy to the team...

... when Lee Youngji spilled the tea right before I wrote the 1st chapter!

A/N ²: You had ONE JOB, Kim Y/N 🤦🏽‍♀️

[sweetmusingss]

Charles narrowed his eyes at you before shaking his head a bit. “I am not threatened by Lando because the two of you are like siblings and have been for several years. You just met Oscar and every time I turn my back, the two of you are together. And him having a girlfriend doesn’t mean anything. I have only ever seen this girl once in my life and she’s never around.. Maybe they aren’t that serious,” he said, shrugging a bit, hating that he seemed like a jealous pathetic loser. He was usually so much smoother than this. “I mean, it’s fine if you have a pull towards him. I just am surprised by it, that’s all,” he said, trying to act casual but your little crush was really getting under his skin.

Oscar felt defeated as he headed back inside, checking his phone again and wondering if he would be happy about a text from Sophie or be upset about it. He felt embarrassed that Charles had went and brought you a mimosa too, realizing that he was definitely trying way too hard with you and he needed to take it easy. The last thing he wanted was to come off looking like a creep. He was thinking about what Lando said though and wondering if there was a chance that you could be into him. Even just a slim chance.

I found it interesting that Charles mentioned he had only seen Oscar’s girlfriend once and that she was never at any races, feeling so bad for Oscar. Drivers being single and not having any support besides family there was one thing, but having a partner and they were just never there to support you was another level. No wonder he seemed to have such low self esteem, the thought of that breaking my heart. “According to Lando, they’ve been together for ages… just because she doesn’t travel around with him like Katie does with Max doesn’t mean they’re not serious.” I scoff at his next words, shrugging. “He just understands my humor, that’s all. Not many people do. We talked about murder and how I would murder him for like an hour… that’s not really usual banter between people who just met. We’re just a lot alike, it doesn’t mean anything. There’s a higher chance of me and Lando blacking out and hooking up than there is of me and Oscar doing… anything.”

Sophie knew she should be talking to Oscar more, but she was just trying to enjoy her time with her family. She hardly ever got to see them since she worked a lot and she wanted to dedicate her time to them right now, knowing Oscar was a big boy and could handle himself. They weren’t very co-dependent in the slightest, they usually had a phone call a day if they weren’t together but nothing crazy like multiple face times or constant texting. They were both independent. Sophie’s friends always asked her how she did that, how she could have a boyfriend who was never home due to traveling, and Sophie just shrugged. It was just life and she didn’t harp on it for too long. She had just got out of the shower after having breakfast with her family and decided to FaceTime Oscar, realizing it had been a little over a day since they last spoke so she felt it was an appropriate time to call.

__

We had been on the yacht for almost a week now with Charles and Renee and we were docked because a few of our friends were coming to join us and I was super excited to spend some more time with Lando. I immediately caught up with him, the two of us yapping away. I hadn’t spent a lot of time with you today because I had been with Renee all morning, talking about wedding stuff. Lando had went to go get a snack with Oscar and I frown slightly when seeing Pierre walk up to me. He was obviously checking me out in my bikini and it was just annoying. I wished he wasn’t here but of course you hadn’t told Charles about your issue with him because you didn’t open up to anyone but me. 

“Bonjour. I just sent you a DM the other day but I haven’t heard back,” Pierre said, not able to accept that things could possibly get serious between you and her. He knew it had to be getting under your skin that you hadn’t won a race in a while. And he assumed that she was attracted to you because you were a winner.

I fight the urge to roll my eyes. “I have a lot of desperate men in my DM’s but I don’t even check them,” I say, too tipsy to have a filter right now. “And there’s only one man I want to hear from and he doesn’t need to DM me because he has easy access to me at all times,” I say, not noticing you walking up.

Max was talking to Charles and Alex, glancing over every so often to keep an eye on you but also wanting to keep his distance. Max was called Mad Max for a reason, and with that territory also came jealousy. He hadn’t really shown his jealous or possessive side to you yet, besides in the bedroom, so he was trying to keep himself together even though he missed you a lot since you spent the entire morning and most of the day with Renee. He nearly sees red when he glances over again and sees Pierre of all people talking to you, giving you that grimy little smile. “wat een engerd..” he mutters in Dutch to himself, not noticing how both Alex and Charles looked at him oddly since he was already stalking off towards the two of you. He came up behind you, smirking a bit as he hears your tipsy words, his arms immediately going around your waist. “Pierre, haven’t I already told you once not to talk to my girlfriend? I know you like to play dirty on the track, but I thought you’d have more respect than this.” Max was smirking smugly at him, that cocky and arrogant side coming out.

[shamelesshussythoughts]

Friday, finally.

What, is this going to turn into the chronicles of JM and CD?

Another day of messaging until 11:00 when I finally had to go to sleep.

I told CD that since he asked big questions and got me all weepy the night before it was my turn to ask a big question, so I asked how he knew he and his ex just weren't in love anymore. I now have three people I consider close friends to talk to about the whole DM thing, two women and one man, all from different walks of life. Two have been through divorce and one is in the middle of a separation. I've asked all three and they all say the same things about how they knew when it was time to go. All those things have been happening in my life and it's frustrating and disappointing. I want some kind of clear answer to what I should do. I know I should get us into counseling because I'm not making any decisions until we actually try to get some help. CD was really supportive and tried his best to be encouraging. Reminding me I'm not at the end yet so I don't know what's going to happen, I just have to trust the process of trying. I told him I'm afraid of being alone after being with someone for so long. And feeling like a failure for not being able to keep it together, I know I'm not, but it feels like it sometimes.

GAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!

I'm handling the whole thing with CD really well now though. Do I think I still love him and want to be with him? Yes. Have I accepted that may not ever be an option? Yes. He's my friend, which is more than I deserve from him really, but I'm thankful for it because what I told him was true, he "gets" me, we understand each other, and I could trust him with just about anything I think. I mean, he asked me (platonically) what I had thought about his dick because he's nervous now that he's dating again. Lol. If that's not something you only ask people you trust and would only answer for someone you trust I don't know what is. And, did I cry about his dick? No! I mean, I would if I got to see it again, tears of joy. *wink wink* 😂

I'm really trying not to set myself up for too much more disappointment or heartache. Hopefully I can keep it up.

Back to normal, not desperate sounding things.

Evil Dead Rise tonight with SM. Supes excite!

Getting a new desk today!

Appetite is coming back slowly. Not all the way there yet. I mean, I'm fine if it doesn't come back all the way. Eating is something that I do to survive, I like food and all, but for the most part I don't eat because I want to eat, I eat because I have to eat. I'm also trying to adjust my eating schedule right now to work with how my eating issues recently are currently affecting me. Orange juice yesterday morning, started eating my "lunch" around 10:30, took about 45 minutes- an hour. Pizza last night, only two pieces. Today, ate a piece of cheese bread on the way in but I started feeling queasy shortly after so that was weird. Got two more slices and another cheese bread for the day that I may or may not finish. We'll see.

[darklydeliciousdesires]

Light on the Darkside - Chapter Fourteen.

Huge love to my little audience for your continued reads, reviews and reblogs. You're so lovely <3

Previous chapters - One Two Three Four Five Six Seven Eight Nine Ten Eleven Twelve Thirteen

Tag list - In the comments. Please DM to be added/removed.

Words - 3,794

Warnings - 18+ throughout. Topics cover depression, suicide and eating disorders. Minors DNI!

After a thirty-five-minute train journey from Nuneaton to Leamington Spa, followed by a half-hour bus ride, Ella found herself walking through the picturesque village of Moreton Morrell in the heart of the Warwickshire countryside.  

It was the first time in weeks that she’d spent any time away from James, apart from a few job interviews she’d attended, plus their respective therapy sessions, all but moving in with him completely. He hadn’t officially asked her, but welcomed it greatly, more of her belongings arriving at the flat over the eight weeks they’d been reunited, both blissful in the fledgling stages of their relationship, now able to flourish in the real world.   

That particular morning, she was on her way to visit another person she had met while at the same place she’d found her love, turning off Duffus Hill onto a small cul-de-sac, arriving at the second cottage along and rapping the heavy iron door knocker a couple of times.  

“You’re here!” 

Stepping in, she was pulled into a huge hug by Andrea, the young women thrilled to see one another again. “Aww, look at you! You look amazing, Ella!” 

“Thanks! As do you. Wow, your hair!”  

Andrea had added colour to her natural mane of fiery auburn, making the hue even more intense. “I was so glad to sit in a salon chair again and get it fixed!” Ella could identify. Walking into the abode, she was struck by how sumptuously cosy it was, the fire lit to keep the October chill at bay, a large, grandfather clock with its heavy pendulum swinging back and forth in the corner, and an album by Portishead playing softly.  

“Tea?” 

“Please, that’d be mint. I could murder a cup!” Ella confirmed, hanging up her coat on the rack and sliding her boots off. “It’s getting so cold out there. I think we’re in for a shitting horrible winter, innit.” 

Her friend raised an eyebrow. “Now, who’s dulcet tones do what you’ve just said remind me of?” she pondered, Ella shielding her face with her hand momentarily, laughing. “How is he?” 

“He’s really, really good,” she confirmed, Andrea moving into the beautiful little kitchen and clicking the kettle on. “He’s at therapy today over in Birmingham, still sees the same guy who was the head clinician at the unit he transferred to as a private patient.” 

Andrea placed some teabags into the pot before pulling two large mugs from the cupboard. “That surprises me, I have to say. I always had James down as the type to walk away from it all and give the ole’ line of ‘suck my fucking dick’ to any further therapy once he was released. I’m glad he’s benefitting from it.” 

How well she knew him. “I did too for a while, but being at the place in Edgbaston really changed his mind about it all. His therapist sounds lovely, really listens to him and guides him over what he needs to do. He didn’t respond well to Dr. Beaumont’s methods of like, pointing you in the general direction and letting you figure it out for yourself.” 

Her eyes widened a fraction. “Hmm. She was very allusive like that, wasn’t she?” Noticing Ella pull her cigarettes out, she pointed at the back door, taking one from her with thanks. “She definitely wasn’t for everyone.” 

For Andrea, though, she’d been wonderful in connecting the dots between a traumatic event and her subsequent sex addiction issues, the girls discussing it after smoking their cigarettes, moving to the big, comfortable leather Chesterfield in the lounge.  

“I think the further I understand that it was less about sex and desire itself and more thriving on the attention from men and the excitement of sleeping around, the more it’s helped me reconcile the trauma that sparked it,” she explained, sipping her tea as she took a biscuit from the tin between them. It was lovely to witness Ella taking one without prompting, she noted. “I didn’t deal with it all, when it happened. Shoved it away. It was too painful.” 

“Sweetie,” Ella cooed, reached to stroke her cheek affectionately. “Of course, it was. It was no age, losing your parents at twenty-one. That’s like, one of the worst things I can imagine.” 

Indeed, the death of her mum and dad three years before had turned Andrea’s entire life upside down. Being an only child, it had been made even more difficult. Of course, she’d had family rallying around to help her, her uncles and aunties making sure she was okay regularly. Being alone in the cottage, though, she had soon come to realise that she truly wasn’t, sparking her promiscuous and often dangerous behaviour, leading to a breakdown and subsequent sectioning.  

It was too much for any twenty-four-year-old woman to deal with, losing her parents to a fatal car crash, being catapulted into a life of sole financial comfort, since they were both very well off, but having nobody around all the time to either enjoy it with – or more pertinently – keep a watchful eye on her.  

Life after treatment, she was now very glad to say, was much, much improved. 

“So, how’s that sexy mate of James’s, then? Steve, isn’t it?” she asked, smiling with a little embarrassment. “I can’t believe I straddled the man and stuck my tongue down his throat. The shame!” 

Ella snorted softly with a smirk. “Steve wouldn’t have cared at all, trust me. Quite the opposite!” 

“Oh, I know. I could tell that by how he kissed me back,” she revealed, her cringe fading a little. “He was a very good kisser, so that makes the embarrassment that I couldn’t dial my compulsions back a little less mortifying!” 

“As for how he is, he’s fine. Keeps asking for your number,” Ella revealed, watching Andrea rub a hand down her face. “Sorry, shouldn’t I have mentioned that?” 

“No, you’re fine, sweet. It’s tricky because I fancy him, but yeah, that time I briefly met him he was nothing more than a compulsion trigger, so I don’t know. He’s a young, sexy as fuck guy. He likely won’t want to get wrapped up in my mess that I can’t really casually date somebody and enjoy carefree sex, lest triggering my issues. I sort of get the impression that’s what he’s about.” 

Oh, how right she was. “Yeah, he’s a man whore, Ands. Big time. I mean like, he’s fucking lovely, such a laugh and totally cool, but he shags around a lot.” Hester, a girl called Jennie, another she didn’t know the name of, someone called Leonie, the man had his rotation in place.  

“Bollocks,” she huffed, Ella spraying a mouthful of biscuit crumbs. “I guess I’ll settle for just looking at him and how bloody pretty he is when I finally come to see you up your way.” 

All talk of the male species was left there, the friends instead catching up with one another’s lives on the outside. Andrea revealed she’d gotten herself a part-time job at the local pub, The Black Horse, although truly she didn’t need to work with a fully paid off mortgage and all she had in savings gathering a very liveable amount in interest. 

 Still, what she wouldn’t give for her parents returned to her instead. She still cursed that the drunk driver who’d collided head on with their car had survived, albeit in a vegetative state. Perhaps that was the more fitting punishment, though. While they talked, Ella also shared a few of her plans, too, like returning to college.  

“I like, kind of think it makes me a fraud, though, wanting to strive for a career in helping others when I know I’m not one hundred percent recovered yet,” she began, sipping on a fresh cup of tea. She’d been tentatively considering it, perhaps studying for a psychology degree, wanting to specialise and help patients with eating disorders.  

Sighing, she continued. “We went out for a curry not long after James and I reconnected, and it sent me into a spiral. It was pants, mate, sitting there crying outside because I couldn’t cope with eating in an unfamiliar place. Or choosing a food I wouldn’t normally have had.” 

Andrea was thoughtful for a few moments before replying. “Did you ever think that the studies could actually help you more in your recovery? It might give you a greater insight, learning from the other side of the coin, as it were.” 

She hadn’t, it had to be said. After arriving home that evening, she discussed it more with James while she cooked chicken, him supervising the rice as she was – by her own admission – bleedin' useless with it. 

“Andrea is right,” he spoke, jumping up to sit on the counter. “You probably would get a new perspective over it. As for thinking that makes you a fraud and all of that, nah babe. Look at it this way, before your degree, you need to take your A levels first, so that’s two years. All being well, you’ll have finished that degree by twenty-eight, so that’s just over five years into your recovery, innit. You’ll be way more secure in yourself by then, won’t you?” 

“Mm,” she hummed, sighing. “I hate that my illness took such a chunk of my life, time when I should have been making these decisions and studying. I would have been a year away from completion of a degree, if I hadn’t. I messed up big time.” 

“Oi, less of that. That’s my girlfriend you’re badmouthing, dickhead,” he frowned, stretching his legs out to ensnare her, pulling her back into a full body hug. “If you hadn’t gotten ill, then you wouldn’t have decided that this was what you wanted to do, would you? Or met me. Obviously, I’m the more important of the two there.”  

His joke had her laughing, squeezing him tight and kissing his chest. “Of course, baby.” Reaching for her cider, she took a swig, lifting her head to give him a little nibble beneath his jaw before moving back to the cooker. “How was therapy, then?” 

“Yeah, pretty good, you know. We discussed my ongoing anger issues today. Michael made a good suggestion over what I could do to stop it, my desire to batter people who piss me off at the drop of a hat.”  

He’d been doing very well there, up until a week ago while at a club with Ella and a few others. Now much more confident in her body, she had been up on a podium dancing, wearing only a small outfit of hotpants and a cropped top, attracting a lot of male attention. Looking was fine, but when some random bloke had taken it upon himself to climb the side of the podium and make a grab for her, well. He’d met a very irate James, dragging him down by his jeans, his fist meeting his face at speed.  

“What did he suggest?” she asked, cracking fresh pepper over the chicken and turning each butterflied breast, moving to the chopping board to prep the vegetables to go into the wok.  

“Kickboxing. He said it would give me both an outlet for rage, and discipline over when to exert that rage and all that. Think I’m gonna give it a go, innit.” 

She widened her eyes. “War does not need to be any more deadly than he already is!” Her laughter filled the room, even more so at her boyfriend’s entertained smirk. “I think it’s a good idea, really. He seems to have a lot of those, Michael.” 

“Yeah, he’s a top grade bloke. Really fucking sound. Always has an answer for all my stuff, too. So what else is new with Andrea, then?” 

“Oh, the redheaded goddess!” Steve called from the armchair, beginning to grin. “Is she ready for me to give her one hell of a good seeing to yet?” 

“Calm your dick down,” Ella warned, pointing at him with a spatula, “you’ll do her recovery no bleedin’ good.”  

“We’re gonna have to put him in restraints when she comes up for your birthday,  innit?” James spoke, pulling a fresh beer from the fridge.  

Steve turned, his grin wide. “Nah, don’t you threaten me with a good time, Jim!”  

Once dinner had been eaten, a film watched and Steve declaring he was ‘off to play with Leonie for the night’ before leaving the flat, it wasn’t long before they decided to have a good time of their own.  

“Mmm, shit. I don’t even know how the hell you can move your tongue so quickly, but I... ahhh! I’m not complaining!” she moaned, feeling him smile against her as she straddled his head, James happily lying there with her riding his mouth.  

It burned incandescent through her, like a hail of glimmers creeping slow, his hands clutching the rounds of her bum, moving every so often to lay a hard smack. She’d never had a man spank her before, but god, how she enjoyed it when James did. He wasn’t gentle with it. At all.  

While his hands showed no mercy, his tongue slowed, dragging flat and slow through her folds, circling over her clit and repeating the action again. Her thighs shook from the potency of each lick, shuddered breaths leaving her mouth as she panted hard, her gaze falling to see him open his eyes and wink at her.  

Wrapping her clit in a firm suck, the sensation rooted itself in her, sharp-toothed and edging on a little too much, her hips swaying against his mouth. The pleasure dug deep into her marrow as she cried out, the release snapping through her, Ella immediately moving to gratify him by sheathing his cock within her still fluttering walls.  

He weighed heavy in the depths of her, the feeling of her soaking him only gratified further by the prickle of teeth crushing his nipple, her nails grazing like sensual daggers down his sides. She pulled heaven from the very depths of his hell every time he was inside her, not afraid to be as rough with him as he liked her to be, her hand grasping his neck, nails digging in as she kissed him with stormy lust.  

She sucked his tongue, his mouth then gliding to rain soft bites over her neck, grasping her bum and fucking up into her powerfully, the tempo remaining slow burning like napalm. Sitting back up again, his cock pressed firmly as she rotated her hips, hitting her front wall, lightning rolling over her spine, clawing at the black and grey brandings of his upper arms as he reached to squeeze her breasts.  

God, how she loved him, thrived on the thrill of having sex with him, James the sole reignition to her desires as soon as she’d started to feel better. The way he looked at her too, it made her feel incredible about herself, her body confidence restored. She couldn’t thank him enough for having such a part in returning that to her. There were wobbles on occasion, but they were becoming fewer and further between. 

Watching as she fucked him, she’d never seen a sight as sexy, her tall, muscular, tattooed man with his storm grey eyes. He was so darkly alluring, so stunningly sexy, James’s thoughts over her extremely similar. He loved that she finally saw what he did in her, and enjoyed her body as much as he did for the most part. 

The way she moved on top of him had him lost to the sublimity of it, no girl before her doing quite such a thorough job where he’d be content to remain on his back for the duration. It was hypnotic, a rhythmic spell of sexual energy unlike anything he’d ever experienced, her body rolling and undulating like she was made of liquid. Quite simply, he’d never been ridden like that in his whole life. She absolutely blew his mind, this beautiful young woman who he fallen so deeply in love with.  

The pace became more urgent and frenzied, voracity replacing the slower, sumptuous enjoyment that had prevailed thus far, Ella grinding down on him eagerly as he moved beneath her with more purpose, both of them driving deeper moans from one another.   

Each keen undulation caused him to feel sparks flickering his spine, while she had her own bliss pulsing softly, increasing more the faster she moved, fervidly chasing her release as she began to rub her clit, her other hand flexing at his chest, nails digging in.  

A string of panted expletives left her mouth as she felt herself reach boiling point, bubbling over and taking him with her to a gloriously sweet finish, intensity throbbing hard and leaving them both a breathless, shuddering wreck.   

With Ella now taking the contraceptive pill, there was no longer a need to move immediately to dispose of a condom, James pulling her down against his chest, stroking her back as he kissed her deeply. Floaty light little aftershocks skipped over her nerves as her release ebbed away slowly, feeling his cock twitching within the hug of her walls.  

Sleepiness began to settle over her, Ella finally moving to her side of the bed and pulling the duvet and thick, faux fur blanket over them, blocking out the November chill from their bare flesh as he curled around her.  

“Night, babe.” Dropping a kiss upon her shoulder, his arm tightened around her as his head sank into the pillows beneath it. “Love you.” 

“Love you too, my sexy church burner.”  

Yes, it still made him laugh.  

The following morning, Ella rose first, pulling on one of James’s long-sleeved t shirts (this one depicting the logo for the band Venom, who she was becoming a little partial to) her big, slouchy socks as well as her pyjama bottoms, shivering a little as she waited for the heating to come on while making herself a tea.  

Looking over into the lounge area, she noticed a familiar sight, a blanket swathed Snedders lying asleep on the sofa. He had his own key, so it wasn’t a surprise to sometimes find him there of a morning unexpectedly. She guessed there’d be a story to accompany his presence, probably involving his on/off girlfriend, the infamous Kerry. Ella didn’t like her at all, finding her to be very difficult to get along with.  

Making her tea, she moved to the armchair, placing her mug down on the much neater coffee table. In lieu of being able to offer anything towards the rent (which James had dismissively snorted at the suggestion of anyway) she’d taken it upon herself to keep the dwelling tidier and cleaner, padding to the corner where the answering machine light flashed.  

Turning the volume down low so as not to wake Snedders, she pressed play, being informed of three new messages.  

“Hi sis! I need to meet you at half four this afternoon so don’t get there too early. My shifts, the way they’re moving them around, fucks sake! I know it’s only half an hour, but yeah. See you later!”  

Jane, a welcome message.  

“James, it’s only me. Dad and I would love to see you. Are you free to come to lunch at ours next Saturday? Let me know, love.” 

Carole, perhaps not so welcome, depending on her mood. She’d sounded jovial enough, though.  

“Hello, message for Ella Greenhall. This is Sharon calling from Bloomin’ Lovely about your interview. I’m pleased to say we’ve chosen you for the position, if you could call me back at the shop as soon as possible, that would be lovely. Tentatively, I’d like you to start next Monday. Looking forward to hearing from you soon!” 

“Oh my god!” she squeaked, jumping up and down as quietly as she could, clasping her hands over her mouth. “I bleedin’ got it!!”  

Out of all the jobs she’d recently been applying for, the position at the florist just off the high street there in Nuneaton was the one she’d coveted most, Sharon, the owner making her feel so welcome when she’d arrived, the atmosphere so warm and lovely. It was only a part-time position, but with her wanting to start at college again it was perfect for her, Ella able to work in the college hours around her new job.  

When James got up around an hour later, her news brought him booming delight, much less concerned with waking up the sleeping heap of ginger dreadlocks on the sofa than she was. 

“Babe, that’s top grade! I’m so fucking proud of you!” he exclaimed, swinging her around in his arms, a grunt coming from the sofa. 

“Aw, ya got a job, Ells?” Snedders grumbled, emerging from within the swathe of the large blanket. “Nice one, little mate.”  

“Cheers, Sneds,” she chimed, turning then to her boyfriend after he put her down once more. “Also, your mum left a message. Asked if you were free for lunch next Saturday.” 

“Hmm,” he hummed, his jaw setting slightly. “Since that’s your birthday, I’m saying no. Even if it wasn’t, I’d still be saying no.” 

“Well, we’re not doing anything until the evening, are we?” 

He smirked, side eyeing her with raised eyebrows. “I had planned to bounce you on my dick for most of the afternoon.” Pausing, he began to laugh at the lascivious look she returned. “Hold on, did she say anything about you going, too?” 

“Not specifically,” she shrugged, reaching for her cigarettes.  

That was about right for Carole. She knew all about Ella, too, James already having introduced her to his dad, Alan thinking she was ‘absolutely bloody lovely, kidda’ as the man himself had worded it. “Then I definitely ain’t going.”  

“Maybe she meant me too, but just didn’t say it?” she suggested, watching his lips tightening. Perhaps it was best to leave it there, she thought, knowing well now the clear signs of him becoming agitated. “Then again like, maybe she didn’t. You’re not obliged to call her back if you don’t want to, baby.” 

He relaxed then, slipping an arm around her. “Good, because I’m not.”  

As it turned out, though, the lack of return phone call led to Carole reaching out to her son again, James answering the phone to her a few hours later.  

“Does that invite extend to Ella?” he asked, frowning.  

“Of course, it does!” she exclaimed, busying herself with cleaning the kitchen while she jammed the cordless phone between her ear and shoulder. “I’d like to meet this girl your father has told me all about.”  

Even though she was being polite and casual, agreeing to visiting still went against his better judgement. Come the following Saturday, he’d see in hindsight how correct his intuition had been, too.