#i feel like people are all excited about it

[thisweknow]

I very much understand your frustration with the "you! are! valid!" Tumblr culture from the mid-2010s, that was something that honestly made me feel so isolated as a teenager. I hated hearing "it gets better!" and watching my life fall further and further apart with everyone telling me that it would all be fine one day. It felt hypocritical. It WAS hypocritical—to tell me my feelings and my experiences were valid and then to just absolutely steamroll me when I expressed my frustrations and fears.

I started to favor the phrase "everything changes" around the time I turned 16. I liked the idea of neutrality, it was something I'd seen as a suggestion relating to body positivity, which I struggle(d) with greatly. The basic premise was that if you couldn't say anything positive, try saying something neutral. Everything changes is neutral. It's not saying it'll get better necessarily, but not that it would be worse, either. It felt like the closest to a truth I could have. What I was dealing with in any given moment wouldn't last forever. Everything changes, my circumstances today are entirely different than my circumstances tomorrow, even if it doesn't always feel like it.

I've let that phrase carry me for years. In the bad moments I remind myself that everything changes, and the world parts that suck won't suck so immediately forever. In the good moments I remind myself that everything changes, and I should hold on to those and savor them for what they are, even if they're peppered in with the worst moments.

It's not to say that I don't remember the bad moments now—I very much do. I can remember a lot of the trauma of my childhood and if I let myself sit with it for too long I can feel what it was like to sit awake at 3 AM sobbing in my room wishing that I was no longer here. I don't think I will ever truly forget that. I can say that those parts aren't the part on my mind anymore. When I look back at my life I tend to look with rose colored glasses at the parts that were good. The moments I spent with my friends, the nights I'd sneak out to ride my bike in the peace and silence of the small town I lived in, the rehearsals for plays that I dreaded going to but loved being in, the way my dog would curl up at my feet and sleep there all night when I was sad—the list goes on. The bad parts are still very much remembered and acknowledged, but the good parts are the ones I think about and the ones I miss.

I know that I struggled for a long time with feeling guilty about having moments I looked back on that I didn't hate. This was especially true after leaving an abusive relationship. I knew the person I had left had been abusive and had done horrible things to me, that I had sustained damages that I wasn't sure I could recover from. Yet I still had moments I looked back on fondly. Moments where I had genuinely cared for my abuser, moments of sweetness and moments of joy, moments of calm and peace that I hadn't had with anyone else. I felt like looking at those moments somewhat fondly cheapened my experiences, as if it was somehow an admission of fraud to acknowledge that even the worst thing that had ever happened to me had its silver linings. It took years of therapy and dedicated self work to finally understand that abuse doesn't happen in a vacuum and that it's okay to miss those good moments, however many there might be, even when we know the overall situation was awful.

It's okay to savor the good things when they come your way. A journal entry from when I was about 17 sums it up really well: I don't want to be happy all of the time. If I was happy all of the time I wouldn't really feel happy anymore, would I? It would just be my normal, my neutral. I want to feel positive at least 75% of the time, that's my goal. I want to feel sad sometimes, too. I want to feel angry and hurt, I want to feel excited and happy and in love, too. I want to experience every emotion life has to offer, even the sucky ones. I don't think I would appreciate happiness if I didn't experience everything else, yknow?

btw you will miss this in 5 or 10 years. memory will smooth these circumstances down like a river stone, and you will find yourself longing for a shade of light or a moment of this particular innocence. you don't know about what happens next, and one day that will be the most alluring thing of all. don't leave it all for nostalgia. have a nice night now, whatever night it happens to be.

[pucksandpower]

Nothing to Prove

Charles Leclerc x Vettel!Reader

Summary: it’s a tale as old as time — every female sports fan has been told to “prove” her fandom at least once in her life — but the man quizzing you quickly learns the error of his ways

The Miami sun beats down relentlessly as you make your way through the bustling paddock, your destination the familiar red and white of the Ferrari motorhome. The air buzzes with pre-race excitement, mechanics and team personnel darting about like worker bees in a particularly colorful hive.

You’re so focused on navigating the crowd that you almost don’t notice the young man who steps directly into your path, phone held aloft. His grin is a touch too smug for comfort.

“Excuse me, miss,” he says, voice dripping with false politeness. “Mind if I ask you a few questions for my TikTok?”

You hesitate, torn between ingrained courtesy and a gnawing sense of unease. “I’m actually in a bit of a hurry-”

“It’ll only take a minute,” he insists, already hitting record. “So, tell me, what’s your favorite thing about Formula 1?”

The question seems innocent enough, but there’s something in his tone that sets your teeth on edge. Still, you decide to play along for now. “Well, I love the strategy, the technology, the way the whole sport pushes the boundaries of what’s possible-”

He cuts you off with a laugh. “Come on, be honest. It’s the hot drivers, right? That’s why most girls watch.”

You blink, momentarily stunned by his blatant misogyny. “Excuse me?”

“No judgment!” He says, holding up his hands in mock surrender. “I get it, they’re all rich and fit. But let’s see how much you really know. Who won the 1976 World Championship?”

You open your mouth to answer, but he barrels on.

“What’s the difference between understeer and oversteer? How many points do you get for fastest lap? Come on, if you’re a real fan, this should be easy!”

Your initial discomfort has morphed into full-blown anger. “Look, I don’t have to prove anything to you. My knowledge of the sport isn’t-”

“Ah, so you can’t answer,” he says, triumphant. “Just as I thought. Another pretty face here for the-”

“Is there a problem here?”

The smooth voice comes from just behind you, followed by the warmth of a familiar body pressing against your back. Strong arms wrap around your waist, and you instinctively lean into the embrace.

The TikToker’s eyes go wide as saucers as he takes in the newcomer. “You’re ... you’re ...”

“Charles Leclerc,” your boyfriend finishes for him, voice deceptively mild. “And you are ...”

The young man sputters, clearly thrown off his game. “I’m ... I mean... I was just asking your girl here some questions about F1.”

Charles’ arms tighten fractionally around you. “Is that so? Because from where I was standing, it sounded more like an interrogation.”

You turn your head slightly, meeting Charles’ gaze. His green eyes are blazing with a protective fury that makes your heart skip a beat.

“It’s fine,” you murmur. “He was just leaving.”

Charles raises an eyebrow at the TikToker, who’s looking increasingly desperate to be anywhere else. “You heard the lady.”

But the young man, perhaps realizing his video is about to become internet gold, rallies. “Wait! I mean, no offense, but how do we know she’s not just with you for the fame? Can she even name your teammate?”

You feel Charles tense behind you, but before he can speak, you’ve had enough. You step out of his embrace, squaring up to the TikToker.

“Carlos Sainz Jr.,” you say, voice hard. “Currently P4 in the championship. And since you’re so keen on quizzing people, James Hunt won in ‘76, understeer is when the front of the car doesn’t turn enough while oversteer is when the rear steps out too much, and you get one point for fastest lap if you finish in the top ten. Any other burning questions?”

The TikToker gapes at you, clearly unprepared for this turn of events. Charles, for his part, looks like he’s trying very hard not to laugh.

“I ... but ...” the young man stammers.

You press on, building up a head of steam. “Oh, and fun fact — my brother has four World Championships. But I’m sure you knew that, being such an expert and all.”

The TikToker’s face drains of color as realization dawns. “Your brother? You’re Sebastian Vettel’s sister?”

Charles can’t contain his amusement any longer. He laughs, the sound rich and warm. “I tried to warn you. You’ve awakened the beast.”

You shoot him a mock glare. “You’re not helping.”

He holds up his hands in surrender, still grinning. “Far be it from me to interfere with your righteous fury. Please, continue.”

The TikToker looks like he wants the ground to swallow him whole. “I ... I’m so sorry. I didn’t realize-”

“That women can be genuine fans?” You interrupt. “That we might actually understand and love the sport for its own sake? Or just that you shouldn’t make assumptions about people based on their gender?”

He winces. “All of the above?”

Charles steps forward, placing a hand on your shoulder. The touch is gentle, but there’s steel in his voice when he speaks. “I think it’s time for you to go. And delete that video while you’re at it.”

The young man nods frantically, fumbling with his phone. In his haste to retreat, he trips over his own feet, sprawling ungracefully on the ground. Charles moves to help him up, ever the gentleman, but you put a restraining hand on his arm.

“Let him sort himself out,” you mutter. “A little humiliation might do him some good.”

Charles chuckles, pulling you close. “Remind me never to get on your bad side.”

As the TikToker scrambles away, face burning with embarrassment, you allow yourself to relax into Charles’ embrace. The adrenaline of the confrontation leaves you feeling a bit shaky.

“You okay?” Charles asks softly, pressing a kiss to your temple.

You nod, letting out a long breath. “Yeah. Just ... frustrated. Why do people still think like that?”

He sighs, running a hand through his hair. “I wish I knew. It’s not fair, the assumptions people make.”

“It’s not just about me,” you say, turning to face him fully. “It’s about all the female fans out there who get treated like this. Who get quizzed and belittled and have their passion questioned at every turn.”

Charles nods, his expression serious. “You’re right. It’s a bigger problem than just one idiot with a TikTok account.”

“Sometimes I wonder if it will ever change,” you admit, feeling a wave of exhaustion wash over you.

Charles cups your face in his hands, his touch impossibly gentle. “It will,” he says with conviction. “Because of people like you who stand up and call it out. Who refuse to let ignorance go unchallenged.”

You lean into his touch, allowing yourself a small smile. “When did you get so wise?”

He grins, some of his usual playfulness returning. “I have my moments. Don’t tell anyone though, it’ll ruin my reputation.”

You laugh, the tension finally starting to dissipate. “Your secret’s safe with me.”

Charles leans in, resting his forehead against yours. “I’m proud of you, you know,” he murmurs. “The way you handled that ... it was impressive.”

“Yeah?” You ask, a hint of vulnerability creeping into your voice.

“Absolutely,” he says firmly. “You were brilliant. Fierce. Passionate.” His voice drops lower, a mischievous glint in his eye. “Incredibly sexy.”

You swat his arm playfully. “Behave yourself, Leclerc. We’re in public.”

He affects an innocent expression that doesn’t fool you for a second. “I’m always on my best behavior.”

You snort. “That’s what worries me.”

Charles laughs, the sound bright and carefree. It never fails to make your heart soar. He takes your hand, lacing his fingers through yours. “Come on, let’s get to the motorhome. I think we both could use a moment of peace before the craziness really begins.”

As you walk hand in hand through the paddock, you can’t help but reflect on the incident. It leaves a sour taste in your mouth, but there’s also a spark of hope. Because for every misogynistic TikToker, there are countless fans — of all backgrounds — who love the sport for what it is. Who appreciate the skill, the strategy, the sheer spectacle of it all.

And maybe, just maybe, standing up to ignorance one interaction at a time is how change really happens.

Charles squeezes your hand, pulling you from your thoughts. “What’s going on in that beautiful mind of yours?”

You smile, leaning into him slightly as you walk. “Just thinking about how lucky I am. To be here, doing what I love. To have people in my life who support me and believe in me.”

He brings your joined hands to his lips, pressing a soft kiss to your knuckles. “The luck goes both ways, mon cœur. You make me better, on and off the track.”

As you approach the Ferrari motorhome, its bright red a beacon in the sea of team colors, you feel a renewed sense of purpose. There will always be challenges, always be those who try to tear others down. But with love, determination, and a refusal to back down from what’s right, anything is possible.

Even changing the world of Formula 1, one small interaction at a time.

[sunni-stuff]

People are judgmental. Some think they aren't, others don't mean to be, and then there are those who do it on purpose and simply don't care.

Parents are guilty of this.

Parents who pay you to teach their kids do this.

But the worst offenders?

Wives. 

Particularly those with too much free time—gossiping Gertrude's who'd rather nitpick and judge than deal with the boredom of daytime TV and their kids screaming in the background. You’ve dealt with a handful before—a crack in the system that always rippled right under your skin whenever one of those vultures threw out a backhanded compliment.  

“You’re so patient with the kids. I could never do what you do—how do you even manage?”  

“Must be nice having all that time off during the summer. A little vacation every year, huh?”  

“Teaching must be so rewarding. Though I imagine it’s not really about the money, is it?”  

Each one, a subtle dig disguised as flattery, like they couldn’t help but twist the knife just a little deeper. 

If there was one thing you’d learned about this job, it was to always kill them with kindness. The rumor mill among parents was ruthless, and the wrong rumor could ripple out and jeopardize your career. So, you’d mastered the art of the polite smile, the well-timed thank you, and the effortless small talk. It was a strategy that had served you well, keeping any overly curious mothers at bay.

Still, these women were relentless. They circled like hawks, always looking for an opening to pry into your life or make veiled comments about your parenting. You’d never given them the satisfaction of slipping up—until the day you almost did.

The sun was setting, the air brisk and tinged with the promise of winter as parents gathered their children. Little voices chattered away as teachers handed over day charts, neatly summarizing each child’s activities. Standing at the cubbies, you were bundling up Adira. Her small frame was snug in her sweater, jacket zipped up to her chin, and scarf tucked securely around her neck. She fidgeted as you worked, barely able to stay still with how much excitement bubbled in her tiny frame.

Her voice was high-pitched and animated as she launched into a story, her words tumbling over each other in her eagerness to share. “Messy man said, we play trains when he comes back!” she chirped, her dark eyes wide with delight.

You paused, your fingers lingering on the last button of her jacket. A soft smile tugged at your lips as you straightened her scarf. “Oh, did he now?”

Adira nodded vigorously, her curls bouncing. “Yep! He said, “Adira, we make the best train track ever!” Her imitation of Simon’s deep voice was laughably exaggerated, and you couldn’t help but chuckle.” We gonna play with the biiig track!” She spread her arms wide for emphasis, nearly toppling over from the effort.

The mention of Simon was enough to draw some attention from the other parents nearby. You could feel their eyes darting your way, their curiosity almost palpable. Simon’s occasional appearances to pick up Adira hadn’t gone unnoticed, and the whispers had already started. Who was this tall, broad man with a thick accent? Was he Adira’s father? A boyfriend? The air was thick with silent speculation.

Ignoring the countless eyes and ears listening in on your harmless conversation, you assured Adira. “Well, if messy man promised, he’ll keep it,” Simon had made it clear that he intended to be a constant presence in Adira’s life, and so far, he’d stuck to his word.

As you stood and picked up her small bag, a sharp voice interrupted the moment.

"Well, aren’t you just the picture-perfect little family?”

Your polite smile returned instantly, masking the irritation that flared at the condescending tone. Turning, you saw one of the daycare moms—Linda, if you remembered correctly—standing there with her perfectly manicured nails wrapped around her designer purse. Her son trailed behind her, nose buried in a tablet.

“Evening, Linda,” you said evenly, keeping your tone light. “How’s Ethan doing?

She waved a dismissive hand, her eyes already scanning Adira with that overly curious gaze that made your skin crawl. “Oh, he’s fine. But I couldn’t help overhearing... this ‘Messy man’ your little one mentioned. Is he... new in your life?”

Ah, there it was—the opening she was fishing for. 

Adira, oblivious to the undercurrents of adult conversation, grinned up at Linda uncharacteristically, the joy she felt for Simon completely expunging her normal glaring behavior. “Messy man makes pancakes! But they go splat!” She threw her hands out dramatically, mimicking the chaos Simon often caused in the kitchen.

Goddammit, poor Adira revealed too much to the wrong person, and you could already see the cogs turning in Linda's head. Forcing a chuckle, you reached for Adira’s hand. “Messy man is her nickname for Simon, her dad. He’s stationed overseas, so she gets pretty excited when he’s home.”

Linda’s perfectly arched eyebrow lifted slightly, clearly surprised. “Oh, I see. Military man, huh? I suppose that explains why we’ve never seen him around.”

You gave Linda your most neutral expression, taking notice of the other moms matching from behind her. “He’s been busy, but he’s doing his best to be here when he can.”

"Oh, I see. I simply would've never guessed you were married. You never wear a ring," Linda remarked, her tone dripping with subtle judgment.

You knew what she was doing. It was a carefully laid trap, baited to catch you in a corner. If you rebuffed her comment, if you made a scene, it would only give her more ammunition to spread rumors. These women didn’t care for nuances; they thrived on gossip, and the topic of marriage—or rather, the lack of a visible wedding ring—would be a field day for them. They’d ride that horse straight to hell, and you'd be left cleaning up the mess.

With the growing number of parents in earshot, you understood that this wasn’t just a comment; it was a test. You had to choose your words carefully. It wasn’t just about keeping things smooth in the moment—it was about protecting your future.

You gave a small, practiced smile, maintaining your composure as you slipped Adira’s bag onto your shoulder. “I don’t wear my ring because I work with children. It could get caught in their hair, or worse, I could lose it.” You met her gaze with a calm confidence that bordered on dismissive.

“That’s understandable, dear. We all have kids after all!” Lina laughed, her tone attempting to sound warm and genuine, but it was too polished, too forced. The laughter rang hollow, like a poorly executed attempt to mask her true intentions. “Does this mean we’ll finally get to meet him at the fundraiser this weekend? We’ve all been here for so long, and not a single glimpse of your beloved other half. Right, ladies?”

Her words floated in the air, sharp with insinuation. The smile she wore was one of practiced sweetness, but the glint in her eyes was anything but kind. She knew what she was doing—attempting to pull you further into her web, hoping to get a reaction that would either reveal more or, better yet, give her ammunition to fuel the rumors she clearly wanted to start.

A few of the other women murmured in agreement, their eyes flicking from you to each other, already whispering amongst themselves. They were all waiting for a response, and the pressure began to build in the pit of your stomach.

“Yes, he is.” The words slipped out of your mouth before you could even process them, your own response surprising you as much as it did the group of wives surrounding you. You felt a jolt in your chest, your heart picking up pace as the reality of what you had just said began to sink in. What the fuck did you just do?

The laughter from Linda faltered for a split second, her eyes narrowing slightly as she processed your words. The others exchanged glances, some of their faces lighting up with an almost predatory curiosity, while others masked their thoughts behind polite smiles. You could almost hear the gears turning in their heads—oh, this was going to be something they could use.

The tension in the air thickened, and you suddenly felt exposed, as if every secret you’d carefully kept tucked away was now dangling on the edge of a cliff. You’d just handed them the perfect piece of gossip, but what would it lead to? Would they use it against you, twist it into something worse? You hadn’t planned for any of this—hell, you hadn't even planned on saying anything at all—but now that it was out there, you had to somehow steer this conversation. 

You had to control the narrative, or risk letting it spiral completely out of your hands. 

Your mind races, trying to formulate a response, but everything seems so loud—your thoughts, the laughter, the eyes watching you. How could you backpedal without it seeming like a lie? How could you walk that fine line between the truth and keeping your personal life hidden?

"Yes, Simon’s coming," you added quickly, trying to steady your breath. "But, you know... he’s not really into the whole fundraiser thing. He’s more of a stay-at-home guy, a bit of a quiet one, really. I’ll be there though, and we’re looking forward to it." You tried to sound casual, but the flicker of doubt in your voice betrayed you. 

The women around you didn’t miss a beat, though. The moment had been set, and now it was only a matter of what they would do with the information. 

“Well, I look forward to seeing you.” Lina’s voice was dripping with a false sweetness, and you could feel the weight of her gaze as she gave you one last look. Her eyes lingered a bit longer than necessary, as if trying to peel back layers, searching for some crack to exploit. Then, with a nod, she steered Ethan away, her entourage of women following closely behind, their chatter rising in the air like a distant murmur. The click of their heels echoed as they disappeared down the hall, leaving you standing there, frozen in place.

"And so, that's what happened," you finished, your voice trailing off as you leaned against the kitchen counter, trying to gauge Simon's reaction.

Simon blinked up at you from where he was sitting on the floor, his focus still mostly on Adira, who was happily arranging her toy train with her blocks, making a makeshift kingdom. He didn’t seem phased, just a little confused. "You want me to pretend to be your husband?"

The question hung in the air for a moment before he let out a chuckle, shaking his head slightly, his eyes filled with that familiar warmth. "Out of all the things I've done in my life, this has to be the funniest, love.”

You blinked, momentarily thrown by the unexpected nickname. It felt oddly intimate, a shift in the dynamic between you and Simon that you hadn’t anticipated. Love. It wasn't what you'd expected to hear from him, not in this context, not when everything felt so messy and uncertain. But there it was, slipping out so naturally from him, like he'd always called you that, like he'd been in your life much longer than he really had.

Your heart skipped a beat, the sound of Adira’s laughter in the background making the moment feel surreal. It should have been funny—this whole situation, with you essentially asking Simon to pretend to be your husband for the sake of those gossiping women. But instead, you felt something else, something soft and unfamiliar tightening in your chest.

“Did you just call me that?” You couldn't help but ask, your voice a little quieter than you intended.

Simon paused, his playful smile faltering for a second as he caught the look on your face. “I—yeah, I guess I did,” he replied, his tone a touch more uncertain now. He glanced down at Adira, who was happily stacking blocks at his feet, then back to you. “It was just a slip of the tongue. Didn’t mean anything weird by it.”

“I’m not exactly husband material, you know,” he added lightly, his voice teasing. “I’m more of a... messy man.”

You chuckled at that, shaking your head. "A messy man, huh?"

He nodded, grinning. “Yeah, but I’m good at it. Just ask Adira.”

Adira, hearing her name, immediately let out a squeal of approval. “Messy man!” she giggled, throwing a block in Simon’s direction, her tiny hand pointing at him with delight.

"So, what's the plan here then?" That easy grin back on his face, his eyes still dancing with humor, but there was something underneath it—something you couldn’t quite place. “You want me to just walk into a room and act like we’re a picture-perfect couple?”

The way he said it made you laugh a little, though there was a slight edge of uncertainty to it. You found yourself shifting uncomfortably, knowing you had no real plan for what came next. It wasn’t like you had a relationship with Simon beyond the occasional dinner and time spent with Adira, and yet, here you were, asking him to play a role in your life, one that might end up blurring lines you didn’t fully understand.

“Well, you don’t have to pretend, exactly,” you said, running a hand through your hair, suddenly feeling all the weight of the day settling in. “I just... I just need you to be there. You know, to back me up, to—” You paused, glancing over at Simon again. “I guess I just don’t want them thinking I’m alone in all of this. It’s bad enough that has already started.”

Simon’s gaze softened as he leaned back in his seat, watching you with a quiet understanding. "You're not alone in this," he said, his voice steady. “And I’m here. You don’t need a ring or a title for that.”

The sincerity in his tone made your chest tighten again, but this time it was different. His words weren’t a joke or a half-hearted attempt to make you feel better—they were real. He was offering something more than just pretending for the sake of others. He was offering his presence, his support.

For a moment, you forgot about everything else. The plans, the expectations, the pressure. Instead, all that mattered was Simon sitting across from you, smiling at you like you weren't asking for something too much, like it wasn’t strange to think of him in your life like this.

“Thank you,” you murmured. "Really."

He gave a small nod, then grinned, shifting his attention back to Adira, who had managed to get half the blocks stacked to an impressive height. “It’s nothing. Besides, I think Adira’s got the best part of this deal anyway.”

You glanced over at your daughter, who was watching both of you with wide eyes, a smile tugging at her lips. Adira was your source of strength, a beacon that pushed you forward, her smile alone gave you determination.  “Alright, let’s figure out what married people do.”

"I know just who to call." Simon reached for his phone, the battered thing covered in scratches, an old case and sporting a broken screen from a hazardous drop. Upon seeing it, the first thought running through your head was, how the fuck was it still usable?

Price’s living room radiated warmth and history, a perfect mix of domestic coziness and military precision. The centerpiece was a sturdy stone fireplace, its mantle adorned with framed photos of Price and his wife, Melanie. In some, they stood arm in arm at scenic locations; in others, Price was in uniform, the edges of his cap sharp against the backdrop of distant skies. Above the fireplace hung a shadow box displaying medals and insignias, each one polished to a shine, speaking volumes about his service.

Bookshelves lined the walls, filled with everything from military strategy texts to well-worn novels. On one shelf sat a small globe and a model of a Spitfire plane, a nod to his admiration for history. A comfortable, overstuffed armchair, complete with a folded tartan blanket, sat near the fire. The coffee table bore faint scratches, evidence of years of use, and atop it lay an open newspaper, a mug of tea, and a small dish of biscuits.

You sat stiffly on the plush sofa, feeling distinctly out of place amidst this blend of home and honor. The ticking of a grandfather clock in the corner filled the silence as you watched Simon talk to Price in the adjoining kitchen. Occasionally, their eyes flicked toward you, and you pretended not to notice, your gaze wandering instead to a black-and-white photo of a younger Price standing with a group of soldiers, all grinning ear to ear.

The awkwardness of the situation weighed on you like a heavy blanket. This wasn’t exactly how you envisioned your day—asking Price, of all people, to help stage your fake relationship. But you were in too deep now to back out.

In the kitchen, Price rubbed his hand over his mouth, barely concealing the grin that tugged at his lips. A low chuckle escaped as he grabbed a cup of coffee, shaking his head at Simon, who stood across from him, arms folded, his expression far more serious than the moment warranted.

“You want me and Mel to help you two seem like a couple? That right?” Price’s voice carried an unmistakable note of amusement, his words tinged with disbelief.

Simon shifted his weight, rolling his shoulders back, clearly trying to maintain some semblance of dignity. "Yes, that’s the gist of it."

Price’s laughter broke free, a warm, hearty sound that echoed off the kitchen tiles. “Bloody hell, Simon. You’ve seen action all over the world, but this—this is what’s got you nervous?” He clapped a hand on Simon’s shoulder, his grin wide enough to light the room. “You’re in for a treat, mate. Melanie’s going to love this.”

From your seat, you caught Price’s amused glance, and you couldn’t help the way your face heated. This was going to be a long evening.

Price, still chuckling, crossed the room to the wide bay window, pushing it open with ease. The crisp evening air drifted in, carrying with it the scent of freshly cut grass and the faint hum of distant crickets. He leaned out slightly, cupping his hands around his mouth.

“Mel! Come on inside, love. You’ve got to hear this one,” he called, his voice carrying easily over the quiet of their backyard.

From where you sat, you caught a glimpse of Melanie in the garden. She was tending to a neat row of vibrant flowers, her hands gloved and a straw hat perched on her head. At the sound of Price’s voice, she straightened up, brushing dirt off her knees with a curious look on her face.

“Be right there!” she replied, her voice warm and lilting. She removed her gloves, tucking them into her apron pocket as she began making her way toward the house.

Price turned back to Simon, shaking his head in mock disbelief. “You better hope Mel doesn’t laugh you out of the house, mate.”

Simon groaned softly, rubbing his temples. “Thanks for the vote of confidence, Price.”

Moments later, Melanie stepped into the living room, a radiant smile lighting up her face. She was the epitome of grace, her presence immediately softening the room’s atmosphere. Her gaze shifted between you, Simon, and her husband, her curiosity evident.

“What’s all this about, then?” she asked, removing her hat and setting it on a nearby chair. “You’ve got that mischievous look again, John.”

Price grinned, gesturing toward you and Simon. “These two need a favor, Mel. A big one.”

Melanie’s brows lifted as she looked between the two of you. “Oh? Do tell.”

Simon, looking equal parts determined and mortified, cleared his throat. “We... need help convincing a group of nosy parents that we’re married. Long story.”

Melanie’s smile widened as her eyes twinkled with amusement. “Oh, this sounds rich. Go on, I’m listening.”

You shifted in your seat, feeling the warmth of Melanie’s gaze settle on you. Her smile was kind but tinged with unmistakable amusement, and it was clear she was holding back a laugh as she took in your flustered state.

“Well,” you began hesitantly, clasping your hands together in your lap. “It’s a bit of a mess, really. One of the moms at the daycare cornered me, started asking questions about Simon, and… I might’ve let it slip that we’re married. Which we’re not. Obviously.” Your words tumbled out in a rush, and you glanced at Simon for backup. He was rubbing the back of his neck, caught between exasperation and amusement.

Melanie let out a soft laugh and gracefully sat down beside you on the couch. “Ah, I see. And now you need to sell the story before it falls apart. Oh, love, I’ve been in a similar pickle—not quite like this, but close enough.”

“See?” Price chimed in from his armchair, leaning back with an amused grin. “Told you Mel would get a kick out of this.”

Simon shot him a flat look. “Not exactly the reaction I was hoping for, mate.”

Melanie waved a dismissive hand at Price before patting your knee in a reassuring gesture. “Don’t mind him. Now, let’s think this through. If you’re going to convince anyone, you need to act the part. People pick up on the smallest details—how you talk to each other, how comfortable you seem together. If you’re too stiff, they’ll see right through it.”

Simon leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees as he nodded. “Alright, so what do we need to do? We’ve got about a week before the fundraiser, so I’m open to ideas.”

Melanie’s eyes lit up with a mix of mischief and determination. “Perfect. We’ll start with body language—how you interact without saying a word. And then we’ll move on to the conversational stuff. You’ll need to know each other’s habits, quirks, and all those little details married couples just know.”

Price clapped his hands together with mock enthusiasm, a cheeky grin plastered across his face. “Right, then. Let the awkward training sessions begin. This’ll be one for the books.”

You groaned inwardly, glancing between Simon and Melanie. This bizarre charade was only just beginning, and while you couldn’t imagine where it would lead, one thing was clear—you were in for a wild ride.

Happy new years friends! The holidays were a riot and I spent most of it spending time with family instead of writing as I felt kind of burnt out from writing in November, sorry about that but I hope this makes up for it.

-

@midnight-blue-moon-princess @pipedream411 @frogofrg @loonagabs @ghostlythots @vixenshiftsvrs @devoetee @shorty-tolentino @aethelwyneleigh27 @ayesha-eroticax3 @emilia527 @danielle143 @maniacalbooper @awildewit @gifted-aurora @teenagellamaangel @julesjunimos @tacticalgirlboss @midnights-song @suzuki-18 @t3a-bag @latencygirl @krispymagazinepizza-blog @harperdoodle @odettecigno @sockertop @arrozyfrijoles23 @lovelystarfish @my-little-evil-blog @imastorytelleritsondvd @l1lpip @cringeycookies @identity2212 @balletbiscuit @mulletmcghee @maciswack @littleracco0n @oliver-1270 @weemansoap @cryingpages @connorsui @beebeechaos @gluttonybiscuits @strawberrygato @sozainturpal @echo9821 @blinca @illusionistlover @blubearxy @superficialfeelings @new-author3 @xanvasy @oniiloma @bankaixx @evie-199 @notsochillnerd @thatpersonnamedrook @hon3y-cloud @jaguarthecat @reinekoya @apixasflora @a-lovers-card @gloriousloveduck @aetherthetrashpanda @princess-vibes25 @vickykazuya @enfppuff @liliannamae @m0chac0ffee @flamehero-phoenix @bean-cream @realizemandi97 @almostdecadentstarfish @lunamoonbby

[h3r4life]

✧ OVERCOMING THE FEAR OF SHIFTING: IT’S MORE COMMON THAN YOU THINK

✵ UNDERSTANDING THE FEAR. The fear of actually shifting to your DR is such a sneaky block because it’s not something we expect to feel. Like, you’re doing all this work (visualizing, affirming, scripting, etc) and yet deep down, you might be scared of actually getting what you want. It’s wild, but it makes sense when you break it down.

✵ WHY SUCCESS MIGHT FEEL SCARY.

— Even if you’ve visualized your DR a million times or planned your DR down to the last detail, but actually being there is a completely new experience. What’s it actually going to feel like to be there? What if things don’t go how you imagined? That uncertainty can trigger a lowkey (or not so lowkey) fear.

— Success comes with its own pressure. Once you shift, it’s easy to start overthinking. What if I can’t do it again? What if it’s not what I expected? That “what if” spiral can get overwhelming. And that might create a fear of succeeding.

— Even if you don’t love your CR, it’s still comfortable because it’s familiar. Leaving behind parts of it, even if it’s just for a short amount of time, (people, routines, or even just your identity in this reality) can feel heavier than you realize.

— What if your DR doesn’t live up to the dream? What if it’s not perfect? That fear can make success feel risky, and your brain might unconsciously try to avoid it altogether.

✵ HOW THIS FEAR MESSES WITH YOU. This fear doesn’t usually scream “I’m scared to succeed!” It shows up in subtle ways like procrastinating, feeling “stuck,” constantly tweaking your script, overthinking your method, or second-guessing yourself. It’s like your mind is putting up invisible walls without you even realizing it.

✵ WHY PEOPLE DON’T TALK ABOUT IT. This fear gets ignored because it feels backwards, like why would you be scared of getting what you want? Plus, in the shifting community, everyone’s so focused on HOW to shift, they don’t always talk about the emotional side of it. It’s easier to think you’re just “doing it wrong” than to realize you might be holding yourself back.

✵ HOW TO GET PAST IT.

— Acknowledge it. The first step is being honest with yourself. Ask, Am I scared of actually shifting to my DR? Once you see it for what it is, it’s easier to work through.

— Instead of obsessing over the moment you shift, think about how you’re going to feel and thrive once you’re there. Build that excitement so it outweighs the fear.

— Remind yourself you’ve got this. You’ve done the work, and you’re capable of handling whatever comes up in your DR. Affirmations like “I’m ready for this” or “I trust myself” really help.

— Your DR doesn’t have to be perfect for it to be worth experiencing. Give yourself room to explore and grow. Nothing has to be set in stone.

— Shifting doesn’t have to be some huge, dramatic moment. Every step (big or small) you take is progress, so don’t psych yourself out by making it feel bigger than it is.

✵ FINAL THOUGHTS. So yeah, fear of success is real, but it doesn’t have to stop you. The key is recognizing it for what it is and deciding it’s not going to hold you back. You’ve already done the hard part by getting this far, trust that you’re ready for what’s waiting on the other side.

[russo-woso]

I'm watching Keeping Up With The Kardashians and I'm slightly obsessed with the idea of Leah being with someone from that family who is so different from her family in the sense that she doesn't get involved in many arguments on the show, she's of course rich rich but doesn't spend all her money on designer things and donates to organisations and such which is how Leah met her through an event or something

So can I request where the team/Leah's friends meet R and are just like 'Now how tf have you come back from an event in America with a freaking KARDASHIAN as your girlfriend?!' 😂😂

You’re dating a Jenner? || Leah Williamson x KarJenner!reader

Masterlist

Summary You and Leah finally announced your relationship to Leah’s teammates

You weren't like your sisters, you never were.

Despite the similarity in wealth, you never spent it on designer clothes or Botox or multi million dollar houses like your sisters - instead spending it on charity and the less fortunate.

That was just one of the reasons you weren't similar, another obvious different being that you were into women, not men.

Although there were many differences, your profile was still just as high.

Invitations to many many red carpets still in your life.

You normally said no to quite a few of them - normally the big ones - but when one in England came through you decided to accept the invitation. You don't know why but you just had a good feeling about it.

You'd travelled to England the day before the event, your body full of nerves at the thought of the red carpet.

Despite growing up with fame, you still grew nervous at the thought of paparazzi.

Unbeknownst to you, there was a person that you met during the event that took your nerves away completely, that person being Leah Williamson.

You and Leah hit it off immediately and let's just say... you didn't end up in your hotel room that night.

The two of kept in contact, FaceTiming most nights.

Leah then made a visit out to America to see you and on the final night, she asked you to be her girlfriend.

You'd said yes of course.

That was six months ago now and since then, you'd told your family and close friends but there was one group of people you hadn't told yet - Leah's teammates.

Due to your fame, you both didn't know how her teammates were going to take it.

But as you and Leah were finalising you moving in with her, you figured you'd have to tell them sooner or later.

Which led Leah to organising team bonding night at her house.

The team were aware Leah had a girlfriend but they had no idea it was you.

When Leah told them team bonding was round hers, she also mentioned they'd be meeting her secret girlfriend for the first time.

That really seemed to get them excited, most of them eager to see who you were.

"You watch, it's going to be someone we know." Beth said to Steph as they pulled up on the driveway.

"Or someone famous. She's gonna be from the Kardashian's or another famous family." Steph added

"The Kardashian's? No Kardashian or Jenner would get with Leah." Beth joked. If only she knew.

A few other girls pulled up shortly after and soon enough the whole squad was on the doorstep waiting to be welcomed in.

"Do we even know how they met?" Kyra questioned, clearly talking about you and Leah.

"Apparently at some event."

"So she's also famous then." Vic pointed out, the team humming at the realisation.

The door opened and revealed Leah, she welcomed them in, all the girls trying not to make it obvious that they were looking around for another person in the house.

"She's upstairs getting ready, she won't be long." Leah told them, clearly knowing they were looking for you.

Everyone got settled when they heard footsteps coming down the stairs.

"Hi everyone." You said with a big smile, waving politely as their jaws dropped.

"Oh my god..." Alessia whispered

"Hiya, pretty girl." Leah said, bringing you onto her lap as she wrapped her arms around your waist.

"You're..."

"Y/N, nice to meet you all."

"They know who you are, baby." Leah laughed, watching her teammates reactions.

"I called it. I said it was a Kardashian or Jenner." Steph exclaimed. "And here's Beth saying Leah couldn't pull one."

"Hey!" Leah frowned at Beth, offended at her past words.

"I didn't know you actually could." Beth said, putting her hands up in defense. “Like how do you go to an event and end up coming back with a Karjenner?”

“Well…” Leah began, smirking at you, obviously remembering the night the two of you shared when you first met.

“Actually no! Don’t share!” Beth immediately shouted. “We don’t want to hear.”

“Is this a joke? Y/N it’s okay if you need some help. Leah’s got you held hostage doesn’t she? I’ll ring the police if you need me to.” Alessia told you, clearly not believing that one of her best friends was dating you.

“You don’t need to ring the police.” You smiled, resting your hand on Leah’s chest as you looked lovingly up at her. “We have to hide from le first and then ring the police.”

“Why are you targeting me too?” Leah gasped, gently hitting your arm as you smiled at her.

“You’re different from your sisters.” Kyra pointed out, you nodding and giving her a smile.

“I love them, don’t get me wrong, but money doesn’t interest me. I have a lot of it but I don’t need it. I’ve got all I need right here with me.” You told her, kissing Leah’s cheek.

Most of the girls awed at your response but there was one girl who still sat with her jaw wide open - Alessia.

“Are we still all aware Y/N Jenner is sat in the room with us?”

[gumii-bearr]

❝ you hitting on me? ❞

summary: megumi doesn't like clubs, but then he sees you.

featuring… megumi fushiguro

content warning: MDNI (18+), afab!reader, alt!megumi, piercings and tattoos, reader is a babe fr, pet names, car sex, rough sex, fingering, riding, dick piercing (what who said that??), teasing, edging, choking, crying (omg), spanking (a lil bit), unprotected sex (don’t do that!!!!!), bit of subspace??, alcohol mentioned, smoking mentioned (don’t smoke, it’s bad for you!), vaping mentioned, these two are so horny for each other like wtf

author’s note: this was a request by a lovely anon!!! ... also its 4k words

Megumi doesn’t like going out. It’s not his thing, really. He prefers to stay at home to play video games or be his own company, and if he has to be social he prefers a more intimate get together over… whatever the hell Yuji is dragging him along too. 

“Trust, it’ll be fun,” Yuji nudges Megumi’s shoulder lightly. Megumi keeps his hands stuffed in the pockets of his black hoodie, a resting annoyed expression plastered across his face. He’s not sure how Yuji roped him into coming to this gig, maybe it was because Megumi kind of owed Yuji for turning down hanging out with him for the past… many times. 

Megumi doesn’t respond, just wordlessly follows behind Yuji as he weaves through groups of people socialising, vaping and drinking outside the bar Megumi was conned into coming to.

Yuji mentioned something about his friend’s band playing at this bar tonight and there may have been mentions of meeting up with Nobara but Megumi kind of tuned him out after he started going on and on about how Megumi was being anti-social and bringing up the numerous times he cancelled on Yuji (it was a ploy to make him feel bad and it unfortunately worked).

The moment they walk down the graffitied hallway, Megumi is again reminded why he doesn’t like going out. The bar is packed with drunk people and it smells of alcohol and sweat. Megumi inwardly cringes at the whole atmosphere and nearly, nearly, spins on his heel and leaves when some drunk girl bumps into Megumi while giggling and slightly dry heaving.

Before Megumi can even make a comment, Yuji is grabbing his arm, “don’t be a party-pooper, Fushiguro, we haven’t even seen Nobara yet!”

“I didn’t say anything,” Megumi deadpans.

“Yeah, but your face said it all,” Yuji retorts, “come on!” Yuji tugs on his friend’s arm, dragging his friend toward the loud thumping music.

His head hurts already. The music is loud and the random LED lights flying over the crowd are bright and annoying. Megumi is annoyed, to be fair, he’s always slightly annoyed but right now it’s increased tenfold by the overstimulating nightmare that is this club.

Megumi doesn’t even know where Yuji is going. Yuji is staring at his phone, then looking around, then back at his phone again. He’s talking to Megumi but the music is so loud that Megumi doesn’t know what the hell he’s saying. 

“There she is!” okay, he caught that.

Yuji walks a little faster, Megumi attempting to weave through the crowd of people without touching anyone (it’s not working, he’s very uncomfortable). The crowd seems to dissipate as they reach the back of the club by the bar, numerous tables dotting the back wall. Megumi spots Nobara as she leaps up from the table, waving her arm around obnoxiously.

“Itadori!” she’s yelling and if Megumi knows anything about Nobara, it’s that her voice really carries. “Fushiguro!”

Megumi raises his hand from his pocket as a slight wave, his lips forming a tight line. Nobara is already shoving a drink into Yuji’s hand then reaching over to give one to Megumi, “dunno what it is but it’s getting me drunk!”

Megumi tunes out whatever Nobara is saying the moment he sees you. 

You’re chuckling as you watch Nobara and Yuji feed off of each other’s excitement. You’re holding a drink in your hand, absentmindedly swirling the ice around with your straw. 

You’re also trying to remain super nonchalant at the fact you’re totally checking out Yuji’s friend.

He looks completely uninterested in what’s happening, his tired eyes glancing at anything other than the social situation in front of him. His hair is messy and framing his gorgeous face. His hoodie sleeves are rolled up and your eyes trace down his veiny arms adorned with pretty tattoos all the way to his hands. He’s got a couple of nose piercings and an eyebrow piercing, his whole vibe is dark and brooding and you’re so into it.

Where the fuck has this cutie been?

“Y/N, this is my friend Fushiguro,” you sit up a little straighter at the mention of your name. Nobara tugs on Megumi’s arm bringing him closer to the bar table, “say hi, you emo bitch.”

Megumi eyes you and you have no idea what he’s thinking. “Uh, hey,” he says awkwardly. Oh god, he’s a dork. You must have him.

He’s remaining as poker-faced as possible as his eyes glance over you, from the fishnet stocking adorning your legs to the subtle colour of your glossed lips. You’re smiling at him softly through mascaraed lashes and he finds himself peeking down at your lips.

Megumi thinks you’re really pretty.

He mostly just listens as you, Nobara and Yuji talk about college and work, opting for tapping his finger against the glass in front of him. He likes the way you talk, hand gestures accompanying your enthusiastic ramble about your college degree. He also likes the way you laugh, though he finds himself becoming slightly annoyed by the fact that Yuji’s the one making you laugh. 

He decides he needs a smoke, his head is pounding from the loud music and the flashing lights; he needs a break.

Megumi gets up from his seat, nudging Yuji’s arm, “‘m just going out for a smoke.”

Yuji waves him off and Megumi sets off toward the smoking area outside the bar. It’s colder outside but god, it’s so much quieter, just the bustling of cars down the street and the occasional police siren. He pulls a cigarette out of his pocket, flicking his lighter and holding it to the end until the smoke fills his mouth. 

He leans against the wall, cigarette perched between his lips as he scrolls on his phone. He debates it for a while, but eventually gives in and searches your name up on instagram. He finds your account, noticing you’re already friends with Itadori. He scrolls through your posts, feeling like a fucking teenager stalking your social media–

“Fuck.”

Megumi’s eyes snap to you, now with an oversized leather jacket pulled around your shoulders as you rifle through your purse. There’s an unlit cigarette pressed between your glossy lips and your brows are furrowed.

Megumi fishes his lighter back out of his pocket, he walks over to you and nudges your arm, holding the lighter out for you.

You look up at him with your pretty eyes, a smile pulling at your lips, “thanks, Fushiguro.”

You take the lighter from his hand, attempting to flick the lighter to life to light your cigarette. You try a couple more times before Megumi chuckles softly, taking it from your smaller hands and lighting it the first try.

He wordlessly cups the end of your cigarette, shielding it from the wind as he lights your cigarette for you, his darker eyes flickering up to yours briefly. 

The two of you stand in silence for a moment before you speak.

“I like your tattoos,” you say sweetly.

“Hm?”

“Your tattoos, they’re cool,” you repeat with a soft chuckle.

“Oh, thank you,” Megumi replies, absentmindedly running a hand along his inked arm. He feels his heart race a little when you reach a manicured hand out and run your finger along the dragon twisting around his forearm.

“Nobara told me you weren’t much of a talker,” you say, your smaller hand still fiddling with his larger more angular hands as you admire his tattoos. It’s strangely intimate of you to touch him in such a way.

“You talked about me?” Megumi teases, taking another drag from his cigarette with a smirk tugging at his lips.

“All good things, don’t worry,” you retort, finally letting go of his arm to bring your cigarette back up to your lips.

“Didn’t take you for a smoker.”

“Trying to quit, just smoke when I drink,” you shrug. You sigh then turn your head to face him, you look him up and down, “you got a girlfriend?”

Megumi lets out a laugh, coughing slightly on the smoke still swirling around in his chest, “no, why?”

You grin, “‘m hitting on you.”

“Oh, you are, are you?” Megumi presses.

“You’re pretty cute,” you shrug.

“Do you have a boyfriend?” Megumi asks, turning his head to blow the smoke away from you.

“No, no boyfriend… why? Are you hitting on me?” You ask curiously with a shit-eating grin plastered across your pretty glossy lips. 

Megumi looks at you and the two of you hold eye contact for a moment. His eyes flicker to your lips briefly before he squashes out the rest of his cigarette, “I’ll buy you a drink.”

“So you are hitting on me,” you tease.

Megumi takes the cigarette from your fingers, stealing your last puff and inwardly beaming at the cherry flavour of your lip gloss before squashing it out for you, “I’m buying you a drink.”

Megumi does indeed buy you a drink, bringing it back to the table for you, even getting you a straw.

“Thank you, Fushiguro,” you smile sweetly.

“Megumi is fine,” he says, pulling his chair out to sit next to you.

You suppress a smile, “okay, Megumi.”

The both of you miss as Yuji reluctantly slips Nobara some cash. 

The two of you talk all night. Megumi is a little more laid back after you manage to get two drinks into him. The time slips away from you and you find yourself not even interested in what Nobara and Yuji are talking about as you talk to Megumi. 

Megumi lets you toy with his fingers, your nails dragging along his tattooed hand and up his arm. You suddenly grow curious, wondering if he’s got any other tattoos underneath his clothes, you feel like a bit of a perv coming onto this guy you just met, but you’re so drawn to him and he seems to be just as into you.

You catch Megumi’s eyes drifting down to your tits before he quickly clears his throat to answer whatever question you asked him. You think it’s cute and you decide to tease him a little by wriggling a little closer to him, your fishnet-clad thigh pressing against his. 

He knows what you’re doing and he’s not even mad about it. He lets you laugh and hang off him, lets you toy with the hem of his hoodie sleeves and lets you bump shoulders with him. In all honesty, he lets you because you’re hot and you’re into him.

“God, it’s so late,” Nobara sighs, wincing at the brightness of her phone.

Megumi checks his own phone; 12:54am. God, it is late.

“Open your phone,” you mutter, your chin resting on his shoulder.

“Why?”

“Just open your phone,” you giggle.

He does as you say and he nearly has a fucking heart attack when his phone opens to your Instagram that he was totally not stalking just a few hours ago.

“Fuck,” he knows he’s caught red-handed when you start to laugh softly, his hand falling slack in his lap.

“Aw, you’re stalking me, Gumi?” 

Megumi feels his chest tighten at the little nickname and he rolls his eyes but doesn’t offer any kind of explanation as he hands you his phone to do whatever it is you wanted to do.

You scroll to his contacts, quickly putting your name and number in his phone (you also make sure to follow your Instagram from his phone) before clicking it shut and handing it back to him. 

“Don’t forget to call me, kay?” you give him the prettiest doe eyes and quickly stand up, grabbing your jacket to join Nobara as she leaves. “It was nice to meet you, Megumi.”

He sits there dumbfounded as you and Nobara leave, he watches your back, watching your little skirt ride up over your ass a bit as you walk away. Fucking hell.

“Dude!” Yuji nudges his arm, “you got her number!”

“Shut up,” Megumi retorts.

“Told you you’d have fun.”

“Shut up!”

Megumi shoves a laughing Yuji away as he reaches for his own stuff to leave. The club is mostly empty by now, Megumi not realising how much time they’d spent here because he was so fucking distracted by you.

He and Yuji go to leave when Megumi notices your purse is still hanging over your chair. He quickly grabs it, scanning the crowd with his tall frame in hopes you’re still hanging around. You’re not, so he quickly pulls on Yuji to catch you before you go. Not that you’ll get far without your keys.

-

“Fuck,” you stand by your car and realise you left your purse in the club. You’re almost two blocks away from said club and Nobara has already left, leaving you somewhat stranded. You sigh, pulling your phone out of your pocket to text Nobara and ask her to turn around and take you home because you’re too tired and your feet hurt too much to walk all the way back.

“Hey, Y/N,” you perk up at the sound of your name, spinning on your heel and watching as Megumi catches up to you, your purse slung over his shoulder.

“Oh fuck, thank you!” you sigh with relief as Megumi hands you back your purse. You fish through your purse for your keys, “did Yuji drive you?”

“Yeah, but he’s already left,” he says.

You give him a look, “he has, huh?”

“Thought I could drive you… since you’ve had a couple,” Megumi tilts his head at you and you grin knowingly.

“What a gentleman,” you tease. “My place or yours?” you joke.

Megumi just looks at you and there’s a thick tension hanging in the air. He suddenly surges forward, capturing your pretty glossy lips in a hard kiss.

You kiss him back almost instantly, lifting your arms to wrap around his neck. Even with heels on, Megumi is taller than you and you have to arch your back to catch his slightly chapped lips as he leans over you, his large hands landing on your waist to pull your hips against his.

“Here’s fine,” he mutters against your lips with a cheeky smirk, you can only laugh softly as one of his tattooed hands comes up to hold the back of your head, forcing you to deepen the kiss.

He forces his tongue into your mouth and you whine softly. He tastes of tobacco and spiced rum and it makes you fucking dizzy. You thread your fingers through his messy black hair, tugging on it as he moves you to press your back against the cold car window.

“You bring my purse all the way here just to kiss me?” You quirk a brow at him, panting slightly.

“Maybe,” he grins, trailing his lips down your jaw to your neck. “You leave your purse on purpose so I’d bring it to you?”

“Maybe.” 

Megumi’s hands trail down your waist to your ass, gently kneading the soft flesh over your tiny skirt. Your pretty nails push up the hem of his hoodie, feeling up his toned as fuck abs that tense slightly under your touch.

He kisses you again, his thumb coming to rest on your throat as his fingers squeeze slightly, god you really want him to choke you while he fucks you–

“Unlock the car, Y/N,” he says against your ear, his voice low and sexy. 

You pull your keys out of your purse and unlock your car (you’re lucky your car is parked in the dark at the back of the parking lot). 

You clamber over each other in the backseat until you’re straddling Megumi’s lap, your fingers in his hair once again while he kisses and sucks on your neck. His hands knead your ass, his fingers slipping down to lift your tiny skirt over your ass.

“Mm, touch me, Gumi,” you whine against his ear.

Megumi smiles against your neck before pulling away from you. You whine a little at the loss of contact but he quickly kisses you again, one of his hands snaking up the bottom of your top to grope your tits. You hold his hand over your top, forcing him to squeeze your soft skin.

You let out a soft moan at the feeling of his cold rings nipping at your hot skin. You grind your hips down against his, feeling his bulge rub against your wet panties. He groans at the feeling, his free hand curling into the plush skin of your ass before he reels it back to deliver a smack! to your ass.

You moan at the slight sting, hands holding Megumi’s face to kiss him as he forces your hips to grind against his hard-on.

“You’ve been teasing me all night,” Megumi pants against your lips.

“I just wanted you t’fuck me,” you retort playfully.

“Such a slut,” he kneads your ass again before reaching his hand down further to run his middle finger across your slit over your panties. “Someone’s excited, hm?”

“Shut up,” you whine as he traces his finger over your clothed clit. You curl your fists into the fabric of his hoodie, moaning against his shoulder as he presses his finger a little harder against your clit.

He suddenly reaches both hands down, ripping apart your fishnets for better access. He pulls your pretty lacy panties aside, the pad of his finger prodding at your soaked hole. He traces his fingertip around the opening, chuckling as you whine and hump his lap looking for friction.

“Don’t tease me,” you grumble.

“You’re so cute when you’re needy,” he teases. You pout and he chuckles, pressing a wet kiss to your lips as he plunges his finger into your awaiting heat. 

You moan at the feeling, pressing your face into his shoulder as he pumps his middle finger into your tight cunt. You’re so fucking tight and you’re only taking a finger– he can only imagine how heavenly you would feel wrapped around his cock.

Your little hand presses against the buckle of his belt and Megumi delivers another hard smack! to your reddened ass. You moan out again, your trembling hands clutching his hoodie.

“So fucking impatient,” Megumi presses a second finger into your cunt, peering over your shoulder and watching as your slick starts to coat his palm and probably his clothed thigh.

“Mm, hah–” you sigh, feeling as Megumi scissors your poor little cunt open, his fingers prodding and curling against the spongy spot inside you. Your pussy makes lewd squelches as Megumi fucks his fingers into you. You grind your hips against his hard cock in his boxers, the friction rubbing your poor neglected clit.

You feel your lower belly start to burn as you whine and hump against Megumi’s clothed cock, your hole beginning to tighten and spasm around his fingers.

Megumi suddenly pulls his fingers from your soaked little pussy. You let out a frustrated whine as the burn in your belly subsides and you pant against Megumi’s neck. 

His fingers prod at your lips without warning and you open your mouth just slightly and he forces his fingers into your mouth, pressing down on your cute little tongue.

You suck on his fingers, your smaller hand curling around his wrist as you make cute little noises. Megumi kisses your temple before his lips ghost over the shell of your ear, “I want you to cum on my cock… can you do that f’me, baby?”

You nod your head quickly.

“Words, baby,” he coos, his hand kneading over the harsh red welt blooming on your ass. 

“Mhm… I can do it,” you pant, a thin sheen of sweat coating your skin. “Please.”

Megumi’s hand reaches for his belt buckle, quickly undoing his belt and unzipping his pants. If he wasn’t so impatient, he would have taken you home and had you spread your legs for him to fuck you with his tongue and his fingers. Then he would have forced you onto your knees and fucked your face until you cried before he put his dick anywhere near your cunt.

But this is just as good.

Megumi pulls his cock from his boxers, groaning as he pumps himself a few times. Your eyes nearly bulge out of your head at the sheer size of him, but also the fact that underneath the pink head of his cock is a little silver barbell. 

“You got a condom, baby?

“N-No,... you have your dick pierced?”

Megumi almost forgets he has it half the time, “yeah… feels good, don’t worry.”

You bite your lip, suddenly a little jealous of how he exactly figured out his piercing felt good. Megumi notices your flushed face and the way you chew on your lip. His large hand gently cups your face, forcing you to look at him so he can press a soft kiss to your lips.

He reaches for your hand, bringing it down to wrap around his hard cock. It’s heavy in your hand and you gently squeeze, jerking him off.

“Fuck, you’re gorgeous,” Megumi kisses at your skin, “promise ‘m gonna take you on a date tomorrow.”

You giggle at his attempt to make you feel better, “you better, cus if you’re gonna fuck me raw you better buy me dinner.”

Megumi chuckles through a low groan, grabbing your wrist and forcing you to stop squeezing and jerking him off because if you keep doing it he’s gonna cum like a teenager because you’re the prettiest fucking girl he’s ever seen and now you’re on top of him with your top pushed over your pretty tits and your pussy waiting for him.

Megumi kisses you again, his tongue pressing against yours as you lift yourself up a little, your hand wrapping around the base of Megumi’s big fucking cock to line him up with your sopping hole. 

Megumi’s hands land on your hips, his dark eyes meeting yours as his tip prods as your hole. You feel his piercing catch on the outside of your hole and you tip your head back and moan as you sink down, Megumi peppering kisses across your tits as he helps you lower yourself down on his cock.

You’re so fucking tight around him when he finally bottoms out, your pussy wrapped so snug, pulsing slightly as you pant and moan.

“S’big, Gumi,” you whine.

“I’ll be gentle,” he says as he lifts your hips, slowly pulling you back down on his cock. “You gotta help me out, princess.”

You pant, only just noticing how foggy your windows are. The two of you are coated in a thin sheen of sweat and you lean back, planting your hands on the tops of Megumi’s knees so you can bounce on his cock.

You start off slow before you get lost in the feeling of his cock and the piercing dragging against your tight walls. Megumi’s hands bruise your hips as he helps you bounce on his cock, his eyes unable to look away from where your pussy sucks in his cock.

Your slick is forming a white ring around the base of his cock, your wetness dripping down the inside of your thighs and down onto his pants. You’re fucked stupid on his dick as you babble and moan incoherently, unable to stop bouncing as you chase your orgasm.

You pull almost all the way off his dick before forcing yourself back down, your eyes screwing shut at the feeling of his cock kissing your cervix. Megumi’s hand presses against the slight bulge in your tummy, the feeling making you fucking dizzy.

“Harder, please Gumi, fuck me harder,” you cry out, your finger sinking down between your thighs to rub circles on your clit. 

Megumi feels like he gets harder at the nickname, “fuck, baby,” he coos, his hands bruising your hips as he bullies your cunt, the tip of his cock bruising your poor cervix. One of Megumi’s hands wraps around your throat, squeezing on your pretty neck. You choke on your own moans as your orgasm nears.

“I’m gonna– Fuck, I’m gonna cum,” you cry, tears pricking the corners of your eyes, mixing with your mascara and slipping down your pretty cheeks.

You feel your belly start to burn and your nails scratch at Megumi’s forearms as he lets go of your neck to press his own thumb against your sensitive little clit, forcing your orgasm out of you.

You cry when you feel the coil in your belly snap, your cunt spasming around Megumi’s cock and gushing around him.

“That’s it, princess. Fuck, that’s a good girl,” he eggs you on, your legs shaking at the feeling of your orgasm crashing into you. “You’re so tight, baby.”

You don’t respond, your vision turning white as your cunt clamps down on him. Megumi groans and grunts at the feeling, bouncing your hips on his lap and using your fucked out body to chase his own orgasm.

Megumi’s cock twitches inside you and you just whine and cry as he pumps you full of his cum, thick white ropes painting your insides. He forces your hips down onto his cock, finally ceasing his movements and just panting, attempting to catch his breath.

Your body shakes and you mewl softly, babbling incoherently. Megumi coos, pulling you against his chest and running a hand down your back to bring you back to earth, “shh, shh, you’re okay.”

“Mhm,” you hum.

“Too much?” he asks, petting your hair and kissing the crown of your head.

You shake your head, “best sex of my life,” you sigh.

Megumi chuckles, his hand gently rubbing up and down your back, his other hand fixing your shirt back over your boobs. “I’ll take you home now, kay?”

“You gonna stay?” you ask, peering up at him with a fucked out expression and dried mascara stuck to your cheeks.

“You want me to?” he smiles.

You nod, “mhm… otherwise how will you make me breakfast?”

Megumi laughs, lifting your head to press kisses to your face. 

After a moment longer, Megumi lifts you off of his softening dick, his cum leaking from your abused little hole. You sigh at the empty feeling, your thighs aching from the stretch. Megumi fixes your panties back into place, pressing another kiss to your forehead.

He manages to carry you and put you into the passenger seat, fastening your seatbelt for you before starting up your car and actually driving you home–

“Wait, where the hell am I going?”

You can only tiredly giggle from the passenger seat.

author's note: YEESH! i need a cold ass shower. dunno how i feel about it but!!! it’s here!!!

[norrisainz33]

golden || ls18

☆ summary: lance and his long term partner and actress, y/n, attend the golden globes

☆ pairing: lance stroll x actress!reader

☆ fc & warnings: zendaya & none

☆ a/n: shorter one bc i was inspired by zendaya and the big ring she was wearing last night hehe also lance has been moving me lately

ﾟ. ✿ ୨❤︎୧⠀✿ . ﾟ

ynuser has posted a story

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user1: tuning in for you only

user2: i can’t wait to see what you wear!!! you are going to shine like always

lance_stroll: my beautiful gorgeous girl

ynuser: my sweet precious boy

lance_stroll: hoping on the plane now! should be there in a few hours.

ynuser: wonderful! thank you for coming all the way out to la baby - i know things are busy for you these days

lance_stroll: you are always my first priority y/n/n and this is a big deal ❤️

ynuser: i am so lucky to call you mine lancey

lance_stroll: i’m the lucky one 😘

yourbff: i’m so excited for you my love

ynuser: and i’m so excited to see you soon 🫶🏻

user22: people died!!! (me i’m people)

chloestroll: yayyyy!!! you’re my favorite superstar!!

ynuser: chloe 🥹

user3: MOTHER!!!

lance_stroll has posted multiple stories

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user2: the prettiest princess to ever princess

user8: when i show up to a who loves y/n most contest and ur there 🙄

astonmartinf1: make sure you send us all the pictures possible. can’t have our man stepping out without posting about it 😮‍💨

lance_stroll: don’t worry admin - you’ll get them before anyone else does!

user87: just casually showing up with bouquets and dior… oh to be a wag 😭

ynuser: reunited and it feels so good ❤️

lance_stroll: nothing beats being with you darling 🤍

user12: happy for you (i’m single and jealous)!

chloestroll: give my girl a hug for me

lance_stroll: you got it 😘

user9: your commitment to be at every event of hers is truly the sweetest thing

ynuser has posted to their private story

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yourbff: girl call me wtf

yourbff: DONT LEAVE ME ON READ IK YOURE JUSY GETTING YOUR HAIR DONE RN YOU CAN CALL ME

ynuser: CALLING NOW CHILLLLL

yourbff: OMG BESTIE IM SCREAING AT THE TOP OF MY LUNGS

ynuser: 😂😂😂😂 i can hear you all the way from la

yourbff: this is one of the best days of my life fr

ynuser: s a m e girl

estebanocon: mon ami what happened?

ynuser: lance will call you shortly my dear friend ❤️

lance_stroll: 🤭

ynuser: eeeeeeek i love you

lance_stroll: i love you to the moon and back

flavy.barla: cryptic? but also give your little puppy a kiss from me mon ange 😘

ynuser: are you and estie together? if so, expect a call sooooooonnn!!!! also puppy says they miss you

flavy.barla: omg yes we are together!

flavy.barla: y/n/n! i’m still crying im so excited for you two you have no idea

chloestroll: HEHEHEHEH

ynuser: sisssyyyyyyyyy

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user2: GORGEOUS????

user18: is it just me or are you showing off that ring in like a …… it’s more than just an accessory way

yourbff: how is it that everything looks perfect on you?

ynuser: stop ittttt 😭

flavy.barla: stunning, beautiful, perfect! not a single note

ynuser: thank you flavy 🫶🏻

f1gossip: now y/n/n…. is that what we think it is?

lance_stroll: genuinely speechless. how does one get so beautiful?

ynuser: lots and lots of makeup

lance_stroll: oh stop! its natural

user19: foaming at the mouth

madelyncline: begging you to style me. i wanna be like you when i grow up 😩

ynuser: your wish is my command 🙌🏻

user34: you never miss

user21: s2g that’s an engagement ring

mclarenf1: nice color dress 🤭

F1Gossip has made a post

liked by user1, user2, user3, user4, user5, user6, user7 and 12,643 others

f1gossip: actress, y/n y/l/n, attended the golden globes last tonight with long term partner and our very own, Lance Stroll, sporting a rather large diamond ring on her left hand. when asked by a reporter if the ring on her finger was an engagement ring, all she did was give a coy smile and a shrug before changing the subject. looks like wedding bells are ringing for one of our favorite duos!!

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user2: first of all - y/n is radiant. second of all - i’m so glad these 2 are end game i love them

user6: how lance bagged this baddie will forever be beyond me

user28: he’s a good man savannah

user12: happy for them (i’m crying my eyes out)

user44: a little commotion for the dress my god

user33: all i can think abt is how it’s papaya

user9: now that is a ROCK! making my partner take notes

user4: my shot is with y/n is now GONE

user22: what do i have to do to get myself a billionaire to give me the biggest ring i’ve ever seen in my whole life

user35: no fr asking for a friend

user11: no lance!!!! that’s MY girl!!!

user9: i’d put a ring on that too if i was him

lance_stroll has made a post

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lance_stroll: had the best evening with the most beautiful girl to have ever graced a red carpet. thanks for having me goldenglobes and thanks to hugoboss for the magnificent suit.

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user18: we got a lance post before gta6

user22: missed him dearly

astonmartinf1: that’s our driver 🤩

user34: that old money hotness is real

fernandoalo_oficial: looking good!

ynuser: magnificent suit indeed 😍

lance_stroll: maybe i should wear them more often

ynuser: yes please 😩

user3: don’t think i didn’t notice the big ring on y/n’s hand. care to explain lance?

chloestroll: two of my most favorite people 🥹

user24: seething with jealousy

estebanocon: cleaned up real nice mon ami

lance_stroll: merci esteban 🤍

user28: i am down so catastrophically bad. i cant decide which one of you i want more

ynuser has made a post

liked by lance_stroll, landonorris, yourbff, sabrinacarpenter, astonmartinf1, glenpowell, and 980,285 others

ynuser: it’s all in the details

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landonorris: cool papaya dress

ynuser: it’s orange mate

landonorris: close enough! thanks for being a fan 🧡

user99: this is all but confirmation honestly

sabrinacarpenter: i think i might be in love with you

ynuser: well thank god the feelings are mutual 😭

user12: there’s not a single red carpet where you don’t devour

lance_stroll: you have one new really good detail

ynuser: i do yeah! someone special picked it out for me

lance_stroll: well they certainly did a good job

ynuser: the best job some might say!

mclarenf1: currently fangirling! don’t mind us

astonmartinf1: back!!! back i said!!! 🤺

user13: the squeal i just let out

flavy.barla: reject me so i can move on already 😭

ynuser: i have no interest in rejecting you!!! lets run away tg instead

estebanocon: only if lance and i can run away together without you then

flavy.barla: fine by me!

lance_stroll: wow 🙄

user88: my 2 favorite people just got engaged no one speak to me

ﾟ. ✿ ୨❤︎୧⠀✿ . ﾟ

a/n: thanks for reading!! likes and reblogs appreciated 🤍

ﾟ. ✿ ୨❤︎୧⠀✿ . ﾟ

disclaimer: pictures are not mine and everything i write is fiction

© norrisainz33 || please do not rewrite, translate, or copy any of my works posted here on to any other platform

[webzazes]

making this danny phantom teehee ❤️

My family always seemed like the most normal people in the world. But, we're filthy rich. I'm not a fan of it, but it's whatever. At least I have funds for passion projects, and hopefully, in due time, my own greenhouse (I've wanted one for years).

I actually only learned what really made us so successful recently, though. Ever since I was young, I was told over and over again that it was due to an invention, something useful and prominent in everyday life. However, it turns out that we're so wealthy because of black magic.

The thought alone inspired me so much, and I was already into gothic and fantastical things- it practically tripled my obsession. My parents, however, thought I was "too obvious" or "too gloomy" for our happy little family, especially because of my style of dress, but I was dead-set on breaking away from the norm after I learned how, well, not normal we are under wraps.

This made me a loner at school. I was different, and I wasn't a fan of going out of my way for friendships, let alone any unnecessary social interaction. I kept to myself, and became "the weird goth girl". Honestly, I was happy with that.

But, being a loner led me to Danny. And, of course, his friend Tucker. They accepted me- although we did butt heads at times, as is natural. We'd go to Danny's house, hear about his parents' work, and especially, their obsession with ghosts.

As someone getting into the occult, (I was actively training myself with books from our family library) I was interested. Very interested. I knew about souls, zombies, and demons, but not so much about ghosts themselves, the physical representation of a consciousness and soul tied down to Earth.

So, when Danny brought us to his basement to show us the "ghost portal" his parents were working on, I was excited. Really excited. Of course, I didn't let that show, I figured it might be as dumb as all of the other Fenton tech, and I wasn't expecting it to be dangerous, either.

But, when Danny stepped in to try and turn it on, I realized it was, in fact, dangerous. Very much so. The sheer amount of force I felt when the portal opened was almost painful- but never could be as painful as the sight of what happened to Danny because of it. He looked almost burned in places, and practically wilted to the ground.

He was limp. And he didn't look right, either- his hair was a shocking, clear white, and his eyes were green. At the time, I didn't even notice that the protective suit he was wearing had changed. But I could 100 percent tell that he was dead. Stone cold and limp, dead.

Tucker looked to be on the verge of tears, but I didn't care. I had to do something! I could feel some kind of residual energy on Danny's body, and I thought, "a source". A source of power for me to use, something I could heal him with.

Healing was my passion. I've always cared for life. Especially in this instance- Danny wasn't allowed to die. He couldn't die. I don't know what I would've done if he did..

So, in a split second, I was by his side. I was full healer mode, to the point I knew I couldn't let Tucker see my face. If he saw my eyes, well, he certainly wouldn't have been able to forget them any time soon..

I grasped at the energy left on Danny, and I made it mine. My emotions made me strong, determined, and I used that energy to successfully make an offering to Danny's soul. It was like summoning a demon- I'd seen my mom do it before- but more intimate, as I touched his spirit, poured its power into his bloodstream, and pulled at it, as I tied it to his body. I could almost feel the ectoplasm in my hands- and that's when I realized what the residual energy really was. Ectoplasm.

The ghost portal was real.

All in all, the whole process of "fixing" Danny, well.. it felt like nothing. And it really was quick. Thankfully, once I told Tucker that Danny was breathing, he didn't think to question the wait. He said nothing. And I couldn't bring myself to say that Danny was still cold..

So, hurriedly, we took Danny to his room, and told his parents he was tired. We said that he fell asleep while playing games with us. That was it.

That is how it all started.

You always wanted to be a Healer. Unfortunately, your dad was an Necromancer and your mother a Demon Summoner. So your healing was a bit… unconventional to say the least.

[my-castles-crumbling]

Tower - January 7th - jegulus - @black-brothers-microfic - word count: 343

One of the things Sirius liked most about getting to know his little brother again after they’d both left Grimmauld Place was sharing all of the little things with him. Catching up on Regulus’s life, his friends, his hobbies, and Regulus doing the same with him. It seemed silly, but it felt like they were making up for lost time, and then some, and he relished those moments.

So he was excited to bring Regulus to the Gryffindor Tower for the first time.

Now, he knew that the rules on bringing other students to the Common Room were a bit…vague. People certainly did it, but it wasn’t exactly advised. But he was excited to share this piece of his life with his brother. To show him a part of the castle he’d never been to. Maybe in the future, he’d show him some secret passages and hidden rooms, too! His heart warmed at the thought.

“...so this is it,” he grinned, guiding the sixth year into the cozy space, grinning happily to himself when Regulus moved right away to a particularly overstuffed chair, like he was already making himself at home. “What do you think?”

“It’s a bit more…busy…than our Common Room,” Regulus murmured, rolling his eyes. “But it’s comfortable.

And Sirius took this as the highest of compliments. 

They sat for a while, just talking and playing Exploding Snap, when Regulus asked stiffly, “Can I borrow a jumper? It’s a bit cold, and I don’t feel like going downstairs to get mine.”

“Sure!” Sirius nodded, caught up in collecting the singed cards from their last round.

It wasn’t until Regulus returned, wrapped in a slightly-oversized knitted jumper from Mrs. Potter that Sirius realized. “Hey, Reg?” he asked, completely confused. “How do you know where my dorm is?”

The younger boy froze, looking terrified. “Er…I…”

And then Sirius realized something else. “Hey, Reg?” he asked, slightly more annoyed, now. “Why’re you wearing James’s jumper?”

Regulus just sat, biting his lip and looking guilty.

The conversation took on a completely new topic after that. 

[leighsartworks216]

It's Nothing

Sylus x AFAB!Reader

Inspired by my late as fuck period and joking with my friend that I was the next virgin mary. Not proofread cuz I want to post it but I'm tired of looking at it

Warnings: pregnancy scare, menstruation, period fic, anxiety, overthinking, lack of communication, communication, silly, cuddling, kissing, swearing

Word Count: 1,450

Main Masterlist

First Love and Deepspace Masterlist

Second Love and Deepspace Masterlist

AO3

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"Sweetie? What has you so distracted lately?"

"Nothing! Nothing at all! I was just, uh- thinking about work, that's all!"

"You're a terrible liar. Tell me what's wrong."

"It's-" You falter, searching desperately for an excuse and coming up woefully empty "It's really nothing, Sy. I'll tell you at some point, just..."

"... Just not right now." He sighs, but nods, dismissing the subject. A frown lingers on his face as he turns back to the movie. "I trust you, sweetie," he says after a long pause, when it seemed the topic had been dropped completely.

The guilt sinks down into your stomach, but you bite your tongue and cuddle further into his side. The rest of the night remains tense.

You want to tell him. Admit what's on your mind. Finally release this stress from your body. But you can't! Because... what if he leaves you? And maybe you're just being paranoid for nothing - but you can't take that risk, not with Sylus, of all people.

Your period is over a week late. That's not terribly unusual, but it is suspicious given the fact you've stopped using protection in the bedroom. Well, not necessarily stopped, since you're on birth control, but things get heated and he's finished inside of you without a condom. So... what if your birth control didn't do its job 100%? You know there’s a small percentage of it failing, so what if this time is the time it chooses to be ineffective?

Dr. Zayne is the only person you've told about your fears, when you went in for a checkup and nervously asked if he could run a pregnancy test for you. You're not sure if being your childhood friend made the next line of questioning about your sex life more or less awkward. You do know that that test came back negative... But Zayne said after the fact that it could be too early to tell.

So all you can really do now is wait until you do or don't get your period again.

You know it bothers Sylus a lot, your secrecy. You two have both progressed so far in learning how to trust each other, even with the stupid things. This just... doesn't feel like one of those stupid things. You've only just put a name to the relationship, you don't want to ruin that now when things are so new and nice.

So you hold it in. You try your damndest to put it on the back burner and show him as best you can that everything is fine and that you still love and trust him.

You wake up with your body's internal clock. With the N109 Zone being so dark, knowing when day is is a bit tricky. But, Sylus is asleep beside you, laying on his stomach with his face buried in his pillow. He doesn't have a shirt on. A wide expanse of tan skin and rippling muscle is left exposed as the blankets all pool around his hips.

You smile to yourself, albeit a bit mournfully. You're glad he's still sleeping beside you, even if you've both been a bit rocky lately. It's all your fault - you know. You'll make it up to him somehow. You have to.

Slowly, as quietly as you can, you slip out of bed and creep to the bathroom...

"Sy!" You see him startle out of sleep, hand already wrapped around the gun under his pillow as he sits up, searching for the danger.

"What is it?" he asks sharply. You run and jump onto the bed, landing partially on top of him. He tosses the gun onto his nightstand and lifts you by the waist to reposition you into his lap as he sits up properly. "What's got you so excited?"

"I'm not pregnant!"

He blinks up at you with a frown. You grab his shoulders like an excited kid, looking at him expectantly. He feels like he’s skipped several chapters into a book and the plot twist reveal isn’t making any sense. "What are you talking about, sweetie?"

You're practically vibrating in his lap with energy. It's the most light he's seen in your eyes for the last week and a half. It's... relieving. "I'm not pregnant! We haven't been as careful with protection lately and then my period was supposed to come, but it didn't, so I had a pregnancy test done, but Zayne said it could be too early to tell when it came back negative, so I've been waiting and waiting to know if I really am and-! And I'm not! I'm bleeding again, Sylus! I'm not pregnant!"

He shakes his head, brow pinched with a pained expression. "That's the 'nothing' you've been distracted by all week?"

"Um..." You grin sheepishly. "Yeah?"

He takes a moment, eyes closed and lips drawn into a frown. That guilt that settled in your stomach during your movie night returns, doubled in intensity. You got over-worried and kept secrets from your boyfriend, when you could have just told him from the start how weird it was that your period is late and how worried you are about what it could mean.

"Sy...?"

"Mmm."

"Are you mad at me?"

He finally opens his eyes. The expression eases slightly as he shakes his head with a sigh. "Have the cramps hit yet?"

You shake your head. "Um, no?"

Suddenly, his arms are wrapped around you and your world tilts on its axis. A heavy weight settles above you. Sylus's nose presses against your neck. "Good. Let's stay here for when they do."

You try to wriggle loose. He tightens his hold around you and nips at your skin sharply. You jolt, but it stops your struggling. “Why do we have to stay here for my cramps?”

“Because, sweetie,” he sighs. You’d think he’s annoyed, if it weren’t for the way he runs his nose along the column of your throat and eases his weight fully onto your body. “When your cramps start, you’re going to want a heating pad and a massage. And since you hate my massages-“

“I do not!”

“-it’s better if I just lay here and provide all the heat you desire.”

His logic isn’t faulty… And, honestly, having him so close to you again, without the barrier you built between you both, is really, really nice. So, you relent. You wrap your arms around his neck and begin playing with his hair. He lets out a contented hum, pressing a kiss to your pulse.

“So… you’re not mad at me?” you ask again.

“No, I’m not mad. I was… worried. Suddenly you were pulling away from me with no explanation and no warning. I thought…” You gently pull on his hair to remove his face from your neck. He follows with no resistance, resting his chin on your chest as he looks up at you with such serious eyes, tinged with sleepiness and lingering concern. “I thought you didn’t trust me anymore.”

You frown at the admission. For over a week, he thought you were pulling away because you didn’t trust him… “I guess I didn’t help any, keeping my worries a secret…” He doesn’t agree, but you see a slight quirk in his brow. “I’m sorry, Sy. I didn’t… I just… This is so new. I was worried that if I was pregnant, you’d be upset or leave me or something.”

He scoffs. “I’m not so easily scared off, kitten.”

“And I know that now.” You lean forward and press a lingering kiss to his forehead. His eyes flutter shut, furrow in his brow relaxing. When you pull away, they open to look at you once again. “I promise, from now on, I won’t keep secrets like that from you anymore. You’ll be the first to know if I’m worried about anything.”

He grins slightly. “Thank you, sweetie. I promise to be just as honest with you.”

He lifts himself up just enough to capture your lips. Your mouths move together in a languid dance, sealing the deal you two have just made. It lasts several minutes. Neither of you really ever want it to end, but Sylus needs his sleep and you’re going to need all his love and care when your uterus decides to rain hellfire on you to make up for lost time. He pulls away slowly, trails light kisses down your jaw, and tucks himself back into your neck.

Everything feels so much more secure now. Despite all your fears, the relationship has grown stronger. And you know, you’re both going to be okay.

-

Bonus:

“Is the thought of having my kids that terrible?”

“You know that’s not why I was worried, you asshole.”

---

Tag List:

@the-golden-jhope @huen1ngk41 @armycaratlover @sylusfluffymeow @cheesemachine44 @nyx2021 @angel-jupiter @thelittlebutton @pikachuzhc @pomegranatepip @cordidy @an-ever-angry-bi @thejysemongko @deusfoundry

[traveler-at-heart]

Doctor's In - Part 9

Wanda Maximoff x Doctor!R

Summary: New Year, new... relationship challenges? Sharing a home isn't all fun and games.

A/N: Everyone, please don’t tell me how much you hate where this story is going just because it seems like R will cheat on Wanda. There’s more to the plot and it’s not something I’m doing just randomly, I’m spending time and effort into creating a fic that is a bit more nuanced or at least I hope it is.

Natasha is not a people person.

Which is funny, considering her profession. She’s created a system that allows her to interact with patients as little as possible, and to focus on what she understands best: the human heart.

Not as a metaphor for sentimental stuff, but as a perfect machine.

She’s out of her element now, and considering the stupid drunk that is shouting in the middle of the ER, Natasha thinks it’s better to check if you’re around later.

“Is anybody going to take a look at this?” the man raises his messed up hand, slurring his words. He approaches Natasha, and she busies herself reading a chart. “Are you going to help or not, hot stuff?”

“I don’t work here” she grumbles, deciding that she’ll have to wait for you somewhere else.

“I was hoping you could take care of me. Where are you going? I'm talking to you” he says when she turns to leave, his good hand flying to grab her by the elbow.

Natasha is ready to throw a punch, but she never feels his touch in any part of her body.

“Lay a hand on her and I will strap you to a hospital bed and give you a colonoscopy without anesthesia” you say, surprising him with your strenght. “Now, sir, sit the fuck down and someone will be with you shortly”

“I’ll handle it” Barnes, the new nurse, approaches with his signature frown. He is equally attractive and terrifying, though most of the nurses ignore the latter.

“Thank you” you smile, watching the man become quiet as Barnes grabs him by the shoulder, knowing he won’t be able to say anything stupid to him. “Hi, Nat”

“Hey, stranger” she smiles at you. “I was hoping I’d run into you here”

“Is that why you were wandering the ER? You could just text me” you smile, walking with her to the cafeteria. “My shift ended an hour ago, which is why I wasn’t the one dealing with that asshole”

“Thank you for that, you are such a gentlewoman. I am dissapointed, though. I was hoping you’d stay for our first lesson today”

“Of course I am. I wouldn’t miss it for the world”

Most of the hospital was buzzing with excitement at learning the new surgical technique that had earned Melina Romanoff a Nobel Prize. The exception was Tony, but that was only because he was convinced the Romanoffs had a secret, evil plot to take over. Even Pepper had told me to chill in front of everyone.

You sit at the front, saving a spot for Darcy and follow every word Natasha says. She’s just going over some of the theory and the process of how the research came to be, which is still very interesting to you. Medical research required patience and focus that you did not have, so you had turned your professional development to trauma, as well as search and rescue training.

“We’ll meet on Wednesday to start the first exercises” she finishes the presentation, and winks at you discreetly.

You smile, leaving the conference room, Darcy right behind you.

“What was that?”

“What? Were you expecting exercises from the get go?”

“I meant the wink. Why was she winking at you?” Darcy insists and you shrug your shoulders.

“I don’t know. Friends wink at each other. I wink at you!”

“If you winked at me, I’d think you’re having a stroke” Darcy insists, and you have to roll your eyes. “It was flirty”

“Natasha knows about my relationship, we are just friends” you say, eager to finish the conversation.

“I just think there’s something fishy about this”

“You too? Stark got to you, Lewis” you mock, nudging her shoulder. “Come on, it’s all fine. I gotta get home, though, I forgot to tell Wanda I was staying longer”

“I hope she kicks your ass for that!” Darcy says as you run out of the hospital.

“Yeah, yeah”

As you drive home, you stop by the shopping street to get Wanda some flowers. You don’t think she’ll be too upset about you being late, but it never hurts to be safe.

Still, as you park in the driveway, you take a couple of minutes inside your car, looking at your old home in the rearview mirror.

Truth be told… you’re stalling. Though you love everyone inside the Maximoff house very much, you’ve had so much work these past two weeks, and it’s always a bit exhausting to get home and find the kids running around or Pietro complaining about something.

As someone who went from living alone to sharing a house with four other people full time, it was definitely overwhelming to say the least.

You take a last, deep breath and step inside the house, Pietro watching a show while the twins play in the backyard.

“You’re late” he comments.

“Work stuff” is all you say, not feeling in the mood to justify your tardiness to someone who isn’t Wanda.

But, as you enter the kitchen and your eyes meet hers, you can tell she’s also a little upset.

“Sorry, work ran long” you apologize, offering the flowers. She tries to smile and you put them down on the counter. “I really am sorry, Wands”

“No, it’s ok. I’m just behind with the book and the kids were a little difficult today… I could have used your help, that’s all”

I could have used some rest, you want to say, but that won’t help. It’s not forever, you keep thinking. Pietro will get better and move out, and things will be less crowded.

“I’ll be here all day tomorrow, I can take care of anything you need” you promise, saying goodbye to the prospect of a good nap. To keep yourself busy, you take out stuff to make a sandwich, sighing when you notice you’re out of cheese. “Like going to the grocery store, I guess”

Pietro keeps eating everything and by the time you’re home, there’s barely any food left.

“And you’re coming to the twins game on Wednesday, right?”

“Oh” you pause, scratching your neck. “I have to go to the hospital”

“Again? It seems like you’re there all week” Wanda protests.

“Well, yeah, we’re understaffed, between people being sick and others taking time off. I have to go and head the department, it’s my job, Wanda” you say, suddenly not hungry.

Nothing’s enough, you’re not good enough.

“I just… miss you. That’s all” Wanda says, and you sigh, feeling like an asshole.

“I know. I’m sorry. It’s always crazy during January, plus we’re doing a new training with a doctor from Boston. Things will settle in a couple of weeks, I promise”

“Ok” she nods, smiling as you approach her, kissing her temple. “But you’ll have to make it up to me”

“I have a few ideas for that, Miss Maximoff” you smile, pulling her against you and kissing her temple. “And none of them include clothes”

“Good” she laughs, standing on her toes to kiss you.

—

You wanted to have a good day, you really did. Wanda needed some work done on her new study so you dropped off the kids and drove to the hardware store, trusting Pietro could be fine on his own for a while.

What really ruined the mood happened on the way back home.

While turning on a busy street, your mother calls and instead of pressing the ignore button, you answer.

“Fuck” you mutter and it’s too late to hang up. “Hey, mom”

Wanda perks up at that, curious about your mother. She has never even heard her voice, let alone watch you have a conversation on the phone with her. She can tell your posture stiffens.

“Hello, Y/N. I missed your call for the holidays”

“Had lots of work” you lie.

“Oh, well. Hope you liked your birthday present” the woman says in a kinder tone and you almost want to laugh.

“Yeah, thanks. Really appreciate it”

“So, I don’t have a lot of time, wanted to let you know we’re flying there next week but we’re just gonna stay for three days. I don’t think we’ll have the time to meet you. Plus, it’s just us family, you know”

“Right” you try to sound disappointed, but are actually tempted to stop the car and dance around the street. “Some other time”

“Just make sure you’re available in case we need anything. It’s the least you can do”

“Of course” you agree, looking out of the corner of your eye at the confused expression on Wanda’s face. “Have fun, say hi to everyone for me”

“Ok, you take care now”

The minute she hangs up, you let out a huge sigh of relief.

“What was that?” Wanda says, frowning.

“Which part, love?”

“Everything! Ok, first of all, the birthday present. What did she get you? I didn’t see anything delivered”

“Wanda, she doesn’t even know where I live. What happened was, someone walked by and she pretended to be nice. She’s always done it” you explain, feeling irritated. All you want is to be happy that you won’t see her, but Wanda is pushing the subject.

“And what about them coming? And not making the time to see you? Just us family? You’re her daughter!”

“Wanda, please, drop it” you plead, parking outside your home and stepping out of the car.

“Why is she like this? Why don’t you call her out on it? And I’m sorry, I just can’t understand someone being so horrible to their own child”

“Wanda!” you snap, slapping the trunk of the car. “I know, she’s horrible. I don’t care if she lies about getting me a birthday present and I don’t care enough about her to call her out for being mommy dearest. I am just so damn happy that I don’t have to be around her anymore, can we please focus on that?”

“I am just trying to understand. You never tell me anything about her” Wanda protests and you can’t believe she’s still talking about this.

“Everything there is to know, you already know, Wanda. What else would you like to learn? That sometimes I went to bed without having dinner because she thought I was getting fat? Or that when I got a summer job and was out too late she only let me sleep on the porch? What other fucking twisted things would you like to learn about that awful woman?”

“I…”

“If I say it’s complicated or I don’t want to talk about it, maybe just listen once. Here” you toss the car keys her way, not caring if she catches them or not. “I’m going for a walk”

You’d do more than walk if you were wearing different shoes and it wasn’t so damn cold. Still, you don’t make it very far, running into a black and white bunny in the middle of the street. None of your neighbors have pet rabbits, not that you can recall.

“Where did you come from?” you say, hugging the little thing and feeling relaxed as it moves its nose and settles in your arms.

“Señor Scratchy!” Agatha yells from her porch, and you turn around.

“I take it he’s yours?”

“Yes, Rio gave him to me. Señor Scratchy, what are you doing outside?” the woman says with a soft voice, taking him back. “I don’t know how he got out”

“Maybe your fence? Let’s take a look” you walk around to her backyard, pointing at an old part of her wooden fence. “Aha!”

“Oh, great. It will take forever to find someone to fix it” she grumbles. “He’ll have to stay inside for the time being”

“I can fix it. It will only take an hour or so” you say, eager to stay out of the house for a bit longer.

“Well, aren’t you a sweetheart?” Agatha squeezes your cheek and then slaps it gently. “Just remember, I’m already taken, hot stuff”

“I’m just fixing your fence, Miss Harkness” you wink. “I’ll be back with the stuff we need”

Wanda seems to be in her study when you go back home. The fact that you feel relieved instead of sad for making her hide does make you a little guilty.

Truth is, you’ve never lived with anyone you had a relationship with, and neither did she. Maybe you’re both expecting things to be perfect, and it’s just not realistic. Disagreements are bound to happen when you share a home.

Right?

As you work on Agatha’s fence, you keep thinking about a way to make things work for everyone, because you’ve had a couple of fights with Wanda in the span of two days and you really don’t want to make it a habit.

“Did that fence do something to you?” Agatha interrupts you, handing over a glass of water.

“Huh?” you look up at her, taking it and nodding your thanks.

“You're nailing that wood a little too hard, hot stuff” she says, dragging a garden chair and sitting next to you. “Spill”

Saying it’s nothing won’t stop her from asking, so you keep working and tell her everything that has been going on. How the house feels too crowded sometimes, and work is kicking your ass. It takes a minute, but you admit that Wanda really upset you, questioning why you didn’t stand up to your mother.

“I don’t know, I guess it’s something I’ve always wondered myself. Why didn’t I say something instead of being weak. It struck a nerve when Wanda said it out loud”

“Did she call you weak?” Agatha says, frowning.

“No, that’s me being dramatic” you chuckle.

“Look, it’s what I told you the other day. Not everyone understands it, because most people have a semi functional relationship with their parents. And from the sound of it, Wanda’s were straight out of a sitcom”

“I guess”

“She doesn’t have to understand it. She just has to respect your boundaries” Agatha says and you nod, still thinking about everything. “Have you ever thought about going no contact with your mother?”

“Is that what you did?”

“Oh, honey, my mother’s dead. So unless I pull out a Ouija board, we’re no contact already” she cackles, which makes you laugh.

“I don’t know. If she needs something, I guess I would try to help her. If she was a bad mother, that’s on her. But I won’t be a bad daughter”

“You’re too good” Agatha pats your back, and you smile at her.

“Alright, well, your fence is fixed. Can we call it even with the therapy session you just gave me?” you stand up, making sure everything’s in its place.

“Nu-uh, you owe me” Agatha jokes, taking the bunny out to the backyard. “You’ll be fine. Tú puedes”

“Duolingo?”

“Rio’s been teaching me Spanish. The other stuff I can’t say it to you because it’s dirty and for her ears only” the brunette winks, which makes you blush. “Bye, Y/N”

“Bye, Agatha” you roll your eyes at her antics, feeling better as you walk back home.

You figure it’s better to start working on what Wanda needs, so you carry the stuff upstairs and knock before entering the guest room turned into a study.

“Hey” you say, as Wanda looks out the window instead of working.

“Hi”

“I’ll fix the lights and then adjust your desk, or do you need to work now?” you ask, unsure if she’s also upset at you.

“No, that’s fine. It’s not even important, you should rest, work has been crazy for you” she finally turns, and you can tell she’s trying hard not to cry.

“Hey… come here” you step closer, pulling her into a hug. “What’s wrong?”

“I’m really sorry for pushing the subject. I can’t imagine someone being so awful to you, and I made you… I should have kept it to myself”

“It’s… yeah. It wasn’t nice and I really don’t like to look back at everything that happened. But I know you didn’t mean any harm, ok? I love you, baby” you kiss her temple, feeling her relax in your arms. “Why don’t you go check on your brother? He’s been too quiet, which can only mean he’s getting into some sort of trouble”

“Or buying more stuff from Amazon. We barely fit here” Wanda grumbles and you laugh, kissing her. “I’m sorry”

“I know. You’ll make it up to me in bed” you joke, which makes her laugh.

“Maybe now that he’s busy…”

In that precise moment, her brother decides to call for Wanda.

“Go” you kiss Wanda again, wishing you had more time just with her.

—

Natasha’s not excited about the day ahead, the only silver lining being that she gets to see you. There’s nothing wrong with that, of course. She’s flirting and constantly eyeing you, but nothing’s gonna happen.

Not on a lack of desire on her part. It’s pretty obvious you’re not the type of person who cheats. Pretty ironic, she finally meets a decent woman and you’re already taken.

What does that girlfriend of yours have that she doesn’t? Aside from two kids that adore you. Is the whole housewife thing really that appealing to someone like you?

As she enters the room for the next lesson, Natasha notices you’re sitting a few rows behind. That’s a little disappointing. Still, your eyes follow her every move and she feels a little surge of pride at that.

If only you were single, Natasha might get you to roleplay that teacher-student fantasy she’s had.

Still, as she finishes her explanation, you walk up to her, smiling.

“That was brilliant, Natasha” a brunette doctor walks behind you, and you reach out to stop her. “Hey, come meet Doctor Romanoff, Darcy”

“Pleased to meet you. We’re loving the lessons” she says, not wanting to make small talk. “Y/N, come on. I’m starving”

“Oh, I was thinking we could go out for a bite if you’d like?” you turn to Natasha, smiling.

“I’ve got surgery in half an hour” Darcy says, glaring at you.

“Nat?” you turn to the woman, smiling. “Bishop can take care of the ER for me”

“Yeah, I’d love to” Natasha says, kicking herself over how fast she agrees to doing anything you ask.

“Awesome, I know this great place” you begin saying, but she gets a phone call. Natasha looks at you apologetically, but you smile, while Darcy is pulling at your sleeve and giving her a strange look.

“I’ll only take a moment” Natasha promises.

“Yeah, that’s fine”

“A word, Y/N?” Darcy finally gets your attention back and you frown.

Natasha doesn’t care much about the new doctor, unless she’s also fighting for your attention. She finds an empty room to take the call, shutting the door behind her.

“What is it, mother?”

“How’s the second lesson?”

“Fine. Do you keep a timer on your desk?”

“I just like to know if the study plan I designed is working, Natalia. That way, when we move to the next one, it can be more efficient until we manage a global, scalable solution”

“We? I’m only doing this here and then I’m going back to my research, you agreed” Natasha reminds her, blood boiling.

“This is your legacy too”

“Then how come I wasn’t up there getting the Nobel with you?”

“Natalia, those are insignificant things compared to what we can acheive” Melina scoffs.

“I’m not going to spend another month in a different hospital just because you’re too paranoid about someone stealing your research”

“Fine, then get me a new Head of Trauma for Boston and we’ll consider it even” Melina says. “You know Yelena wants to focus on that, she needs someone who can teach her”

“There are tons of applicants. Choose one from the pile in your desk, Mother” Natasha sighs, knowing where this is going.

“What about that doctor you told me about? You sounded so enamoured last time”

“She wouldn’t move to another city, her girlfriend’s here” Natasha says.

“Girlfriends aren’t wives. Well, even spouses can get divorced. Maybe she just needs to hear the right offer” Melina insists.

“Mother…”

“You’re not resuming your research until you find a new Head of Trauma. That’s final, Natalia” the woman loses her cool, hanging up on her daughter.

Natasha feels so stupid, of course this would happen. Melina never cared about anything other than herself and her accomplishments.

“Fuck” the woman says, kicking one of the chairs. You walk inside that precise moment, jumping at the outburst.

“You ok?” you say, locking the door.

“Yeah. It’s nothing”

You let out a sigh, sitting next to her in the bed of the on call room.

“We can skip lunch if you’re not hungry”

“It’s not that. I mean, I’m not hungry anymore, my mother just pissed me off” Natasha shakes her head, trying to calm her racing heart.

“You got one of those too, huh?” you chuckle. “I’m sorry, Nat, honestly. It’s the worse feeling in the world. Someone who should support you trying to bring you down, and then no one believing you because there’s this collective denial that mothers can be bad people”

“Yeah, that’s exactly it. To everyone else she’s a genius. To me, she’s the woman who’s always reminding me how ordinary I am compared to her” Natasha fiddles with her hands, not used to being vulnerable. Not with someone who understands her so well.

“You’re not ordinary, Natasha” you say with so much conviction that the redhead looks up, eyes meeting yours. “And if your mother thinks that, I’m sorry to say that she’s not as smart as I thought”

Natasha laughs, blushing a little at the compliment. You nudge her with your elbow, standing up.

“Want some coffee instead? If you’re not hungry anymore” you place your hand in the doorknob, checking if she’s ready to step out.

“Yeah, sure”

As you nod and open the door, Natasha stands up, reaching for your wrist.

“I… thank you. You’re too kind to me” she says in a low voice.

“I guess I know how isolating it can be. If you ever want to talk, I’m here” you squeeze her arm in return, smiling at her.

Natasha is about to say something else, something probably really stupid, when a voice calls behind you.

“Detka, there you are”

“Wanda? Hi, what are you doing here?” you step out of the room now, looking at your girlfriend. Wanda, however, is focused on the very attractive redhead that follows behind you, noticing you were alone seconds ago

“Am I interrupting something?” she says, eyes not leaving Natasha’s figure.

“What? No, this is Nat… eh, doctor Romanoff. She’s the doctor from Boston who is giving us the course” you explain, looking between both women. Natasha is the first one to give up the staring contest, extending her hand to Wanda.

“Nice to meet you. Y/N has told me so much about you and your boys”

“I’m happy to hear that”

Happy that you know she’s taken.

“So, uh… what are you doing here?” you ask, still thrown off by Wanda’s presence. Ever since Pietro was discharged, she has never been back to the hospital. If you recall correctly, she said she had enough of hospitals for a lifetime.

“I need to talk to you for a second. Alone”

“I’ll meet you in a second” you smile as Natasha walks back to the conference room and she nods. When you turn to Wanda she has a strange look in her eyes. “What’s wrong?”

“You never told me she was this pretty”

“Who?”

“Natasha”

“I didn’t notice” you mumble, scratching your neck. “And anyways, that’s not why you’re here, is it?”

“Right. I just… I wanted to apologize again for yesterday. And make sure we’re ok. I know these past few weeks have been hard. But I couldn’t shake the feeling that I had to come over and see you”

“Hey, we’re ok” you promise, pulling her by the waist. “I love you, you love me and we have a pretty nice family, don’t we? Even with stinky Pietro”

“I’m trying to convince him to shower daily” she laughs against your lips. It’s pretty clear that he was clean during his hospital days because he got sponge baths.

“It’s either that or hosing him down in the backyard”

“I’d like to see that” your girlfriend laughs and you take her hand, bringing it to your lips. “I’ll let you get back to work”

“Ok, if I can I’ll leave early” you kiss her cheek, squeezing her waist until you’re hand goes dangerously lower. “And maybe we can have some makeup sex”

“Mmhm you’d like that wouldn’t you” Wanda slaps your shoulder. “Go”

But as you wave goodbye and walk up to meet Natasha, Wanda doesn’t miss the look on the redhead's eyes.

She knows it, because it’s the same way Wanda looks at you. And that’s all it takes for her to decide, she doesn’t like the other woman.

—

It’s not as late as you thought, because when you get home everyone’s finishing dinner.

“She lives” Pietro says when you walk in.

“He bathes” you say, noticing his wet hair. “Did Wanda tell you I was going to hose you down?”

He doesn’t get to reply, because the kids jump in your arms.

“My stinky minions! Did you win the game today?”

“No, you have to come to the next one. You’re our lucky charm” Billy says.

“Pinky promise, I will come to the next one” you nod, moving to kiss Wanda. “Hey, gorgeous”

“Moya lyubov” she says and you smile, always loving that accent. “Come have dinner while the kids shower”

“Can you read us a story when you finish?” Tommy asks.

“Of course. Now go with Mom, I’ll be there as soon as I’m done”

The kids cheer as you get a plate and serve some delicious lasagna. Now you really don’t regret coming home early.

“Alright, I’m calling it a night. I’m exhausted” Pietro says.

“From showering?” you joke, but he fake laughs as he pushes his wheelchair away. “Leave your plate, I’ll clean it up”

“Thanks, sestra”

As you eat, you remember to send a text to Natasha, asking if she wants to have lunch with you tomorrow before she heads back to Boston for the rest of the week.

The kids are ready for bed and you walk upstairs, sitting between their beds and reading Dragon Feathers, which was your father’s favorite bedtime story to tell. Billy and Tommy laugh as you make different voices, the way your dad did when he told you the tale.

As soon as you’re done, they settle in bed, and Wanda’s the one who tucks them in, joining you at the door.

“I missed this” you say against her temple.

“I missed you” she agrees, leaning against your side. “Come to my study, I want to show you the drawings I made for the book”

The new working space was starting to grow on Wanda. Even if it was smaller, she had enough room to fit everything she needed, and her view was much better from the second floor.

You admire the sketches she hands you, looking at every detail and stroke of her pencil.

“Could I see you work one day? I don’t think I’ve ever done that, baby” you say, in awe of her talent.

“I don’t know, I might get too nervous”

“Please?” you pout, hoping that will change her mind. Wanda rolls her eyes and leans forward, standing on the tip of her toes to kiss you. Her movements turn more frantic and she catches you off guard when she pushes you against the small sofa, straddling your lap.

“Tell me more about her”

“About who?” you say, completely lost in the way her shirt strains against her breasts.

“That new doctor”

“Natasha?” you blink, trying to form a coherent thought. “Why?”

“Because. You’re working a lot, and apparently it’s next to a very beautiful woman whose name I hadn’t heard up until I saw you walking out of a room together”

“We were just talking” you mumble, more focused on undoing the buttons on Wanda’s shirt. She takes your wrists and pulls them away, forcing you to look up.

“I hope she knows your girlfriend is incredibly possesive and jealous” she whispers against your lips. “Or I might have to remind you who you belong to”

“I haven’t forgotten” you promise, looking at her lips intently.

“Then show me” Wanda says, her nails digging in your scalp. Whatever you were about to say dies in your lips as she kisses you, biting your lip and making you forget your name. You open your mouth, allowing her to explore it with her tongue and you carry her to the desk, pushing away everything so she can sit on it.

Wasting no time, Wanda holds her hips up so you can pull down her pants and underwear, and you kneel, moaning against her center when you begin to eat her out, desperate for her taste.

It feels like forever since you’ve had the chance to worship her body.

“That’s it” she moans as you bite the inside of her thigh, pleased with the way her legs close around your head. “I’m gonna…”

“Hold it”

“No, please”

“Did I fucking stutter? God, you are so impatient” you say, squeezing her throat as you move up, sliding two fingers inside her wet cunt. “Why can’t you just let me fuck you?”

“Oh, God” she says, getting wetter at your words.

“I think you’re the one who’s forgetting her place, baby” you say, hitting her G spot over and over until she can’t speak.

“Fuck” Wanda sighs, biting your neck as she finally gets her release. You kiss her, muffling her moans until her breathing evens out. “I missed that”

“Mhm” you smile, letting Wanda taste herself in your lips. “Come on. Let’s go to bed”

As you get changed and clean up, your phone pings several times.

“Work?” Wanda asks, but you’re smiling as you type.

“Huh? No, not work” is all you say, getting in bed and kissing Wanda. “Night, baby”

“Goodnight” she says, watching the screen of your phone light up again. You don’t notice because you’re already asleep, exhausted.

Wanda has to resist the urge to look at the text you just got.

You’ve never given her a reason to doubt you.

And yet, as she goes to bed, looking at your sleeping shape, Wanda can’t help but feel, there’s a part of you that’s not being honest.

[unknown-cold]

It's fanny how some people call her evil era.

We never saw her kill an innocent person, even when my friend saw the show he is not a fan of Arcane but he saw a lot of comments about it and I also urged him to watch it after all the excitement around it when I asked him about his opinion on the show and especially the character of Caitlyn he told me, he expected after all the posts and comments about her that she would go to Zaun and kill people with her gun he didn't expect that she just wears a costume that looks like a vampire and looks tough and mean, she would get this much hate. He even asked me why people don't talk or blame Ambessa isn't she the main reason behind most of the problems in this season and also Singed or even Silco and his allies?

I couldn't answer him except that people have double standards and are hypocrites because their criticism of Caitlyn's character is not because she did one bad thing but because she is from Piltover and an enforcer. I'm sure if Caitlyn was from Zaun and did worse things they would sympathize with her and love her, so their criticism is so hypocritical and has double standards. In short, their criticism of a character is not because she did bad things, but because of who she is and where she is from.

They forget that silco kills a lot of people, mainly people from the undercity, even kids, LOL have put a mini game on the clien and there you could find out that Silco use kids as lab rat to test the chem tanks.

And I'm sure now someone will come and tell me that Caitlyn used the gas on all of Zaun and killed people with it. Seriously idiot where did you get this? Can you show me a picture from the show that people died because of gray, and if it's true then the characters must are talking about it, that Caitlyn uses gray to kill innocent people. So this claim is not true, we saw at the beginning of episode 3 how Caitlyn used the gas strategically and not randomly and Amanda confirmed that. So she used it to catch gangs there. Because logically, 5 people wouldn't go to catch hundreds of gang members that easily, and also if one of the people got hurt Ekko would have talked about it and we know that Ekko is the most loyal person to his people, so even Ekko himself didn't complain about using gray, yes he and Scar were talking about the gangs that were working with Silco, and they didn't care about gray, why? Because this gas didn't hurt them.

Even if it hurt them and that using it was an evil act, why didn't you say this when Jinx used it on Piltover and injured innocent people, women and children, she didn't target enforcers for example, Jinx use the Grey randomly unlike Caitlyn, but is anyone talking about this? Of course not. And worse when I saw comments saying that Jinx should blow up Piltover again and eliminate the people of Piltover. Like some people have shown their true colors, that they don't care if a character did something bad or good, all they care about is who this character is.

And because Jinx is from Zaun and they have every right to do bad things, but Piltover doesn't even if they do good things they are still bad, what a shallow and ridiculous thinking. some Arcane fandom are probably the most stupid fandom nowadays, to them everyone from Zaun is a perfect angel who never do nothing wrong, everyone from Piltover is a monster with no feelings

The show is not black and white, that only exists in Disney movies, go and watch it if you are this kind of boring and traditional storytelling, Arcane proves every day that this show is not for everyone and if you want to enjoy it you have to open your mind well and be open-minded, and most importantly put politics and real life issues aside, and enjoy this fantasy world with flawed characters and good writing. (This show is not designed to solve political issues at the end of the day. It is a show based on a video game)

Morally, I do not agree with a Caitlyn's Evil Cop Era. The lesbian in me, however, really likes that dumbass coat.

Like. Really likes it.

[kiss-me-muchoo]

𝐝𝐢𝐥𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐞 || 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐚𝐥𝐞𝐬𝐦𝐚𝐧 𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐦!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

summary_ when you declined to play Ddakji with a man, the least you expected was him stalking you, even less expected when you oblige him to lick your bleeding wound after seeing him kill a man and escaping him.

warnings_ MDNI, age gap (not specified but legal) reader is a foreigner (implied American but not specified again), stalking, blood play, dom!salesman, switch!reader, toxic till the end, sexual innuendos, manipulation, questionable morals, do not romanticize this irl pls, NO PROOFREAD YET

notes_ I’ll just drop this fic and leave it there bc why am i feeling so horny for an Asian sociopath? me la estoy pasando bien raro (i like it)

♫ ♪ the worst playlist 4 this man (in progress)

✰ Index (+ fics here)

ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈

Everything was irritating. The class you had was canceled last minute, the crowd at the train station was loud, the tapping of a kid in a window was constant, and the message you received asking for your campus ID to keep using your student account was sudden and required immediate action. Your cramps and migraine only aggravate everything.

You were steps away from the stairs when you stopped to take the damn picture of your ID and be done with that. But of course, you couldn’t find your wallet at first glance, so you moved aside to take a better look.

You worried about kneeling and ruining your black coat with the dirtiness of the floor at the station, but at the same time, you thought it was just stupid.

A trail of curses flooded your mind as you tried to find your wallet, making you oblivious to a random man walking in your direction.

“Excuse me, Miss… Would you like to play Ddakji?” Said the man asked you in Korean. You were occupied with a hand inside your thrifted designer tote, and your mind unconsciously prepared an answer in English.

“Sorry, I don’t have time” When you realized your mid-answer you sighed, just as you fished out your wallet. “For every win of yours, you’ll earn a great sum of cash”

Once you stood up, you met the face of the man who now answered in English as well. Very tall, handsome, innocent smile and in a suit; a businessman. You knew it was wrong to judge but there was something behind the smile he offered you that resulted eerie.

Like behind that seemingly blameless expression, the man was hiding his true intentions.

Might’ve been your eyes or hair that caught his attention. You weren’t native, and he didn’t want to think he could take advantage, yet his feet dragged him to you.

Placing your bag over your shoulder again, you grab your glasses and phone with tangled EarPods. You give the man one last look. You are not having a good day and you don’t have time to deal with this.

“What do you say?” He asks feigning kindness, eyeing you subtly without your knowledge.

“No, thank you. I don’t even know how the game works”

“You look like you are a natural. You might be surprised if you try. You just have to pick a color and try to flip the opposing tile”

The rich always trying to fuck the one who isn’t. This was just a new way. The urge to roll your eyes grew but you remained still.

“Look, I’m sorry. But I bet you do this just to see how desperate people who need money can go. I won’t be one of them. If not, sorry for misjudging you” you harshly say before putting on your EarPods and leaving the station. You leave him perplexed, huffing in disbelief and igniting a fire of curiosity inside him.

And you completely forgot about the Ddakji man as you made it to your little apartment, not knowing he would turn upside down your upcoming days.

…

Warm days in winter were exciting for you. They boosted your energy and made you want to be out all day.

You had the luck of living in a beautiful complex because it was once from a friend of your mother who married years ago and now had her single apartment for rent.

It had long warm hallways that hosted at least eight apartments by floor. With orange and pink subtle lights and uneven edges. It was truly a sight despite how little the apartments were. One bedroom with closet and bathroom, a tiny studio, small kitchen, enough space for a dining table, another small bathroom, and a half sized living room with balcony.

Your loneliness was well-balanced because you loved your home. But even on warm days, you wanted to be out.

Your red shoes contrasted with everything you stepped on. You carried a bag with a bunch of books and another one with thrifted clothes you bought.

At the park you always walked by, there was a fair amount of people as usual. You don’t care much to look around but someone makes you stare longer than needed.

The same man who asked if you wanted to play a game at the station was in the park. Another impeccable suit dressing him, looking attractive like the first time and already looking at you.

He offered you a smile, to which you didn’t reply. You looked at the ground, feeling like you had frozen.

What a weirdo, he offered bread and a random paper to a lonely man.

Simultaneously, you wondered if the man found you attractive enough to stare like that. With your mind that often became nihilistic, you thought you were delusional and that you should just keep walking.

His eyes remained glued to you. As his prey was thinking about what was better to choose, he contemplated you walking again.

The salesman realized he had made you nervous and that made him feel eager to end his job and follow you again.

Once he realized you lived in a good neighborhood, where his elegant suits matched the vibe, he got even more excited to see you again.

So now, was like it was meant to be.

How sweet, sophisticated, and innocent you looked.

Something shifted, as you passed by his side, only having a view of his back, you assumed he was worked out, his hair looked perfectly fine, and his big hands offered two things. Perhaps you had misjudged him and he really wanted to help. But your inner voice said otherwise. In a sudden change of events, you decided to look back once you were almost at the exit of the park.

With his deep gaze still set on you, your lips formed a smile.

And he took it as a first win in the games that had begun between you two.

…

Once again, you find yourself in the library. Inside one of the biggest malls you’ve been to, you are leaning at a counter, asking if they have an English translation of a book you were interested in.

Your Korean isn’t good enough yet, so as the nice librarian disappeared to find your request, you are working on your next reply, with a translation app.

“Do you recommend me this one?” your back arched as a startled reflex. You quickly stand straight and turn around to see the person you grew anxious to avoid and see again. The salesman is there, looking down at you with a perfectly orchestrated smile.

“Huh?” you ask disconcertingly, he shows you a book, his face looking like he had found a wounded little bird. But it was only you, startled and nervous by his strong presence.

The book is The Divine Comedy. Dante Alighieri.

“Certainly is a good one. A lot of heavenly justice…” you say trying to sound confident, looking at the cover of the book. Displaying the layers that separated heaven from hell. “Do you believe in heavenly justice?”

“I don’t know. We can’t call someone a sinner without a proper trial beforehand” he chuckles, which makes you frown for a second. He truly was unpredictable and you didn’t like that. “Ah, sinners. Always misjudged and harshly punished for being the ones who have the guts to make things…” his deep voice and tone made you wonder if he was self-perceived as a sinner, which made you feel worse.

“You sound like an ethnocentric…”

“I don’t think I’m far into that type of thinking, y/n” Your eyes almost popped out, leaving your hands in an anxious tremble.

“How is it possible that you know my name?” Before he can even answer, you add more. “You are stalking me”

His demonic smile makes your heart stop. The smile you once thought had innocence can’t blind you anymore. He isn’t innocent. He literally confirmed he was stalking you and you didn’t know how to feel.

“I don’t like the idea that conveys the word ‘stalking’. We can call it predestination…” you huff in disbelief. “What do you want with me?”

“I would like to get to know the woman who rejected my Ddakji offer. And ask for one more game” Your lips form a line, and quietly you are hating how much you are enjoying the conversation.

“Hmm, I’m bad at most games, so I’m afraid I will reject you once again” You turned back again to see if the librarian was coming when you felt him stepping closer, which made you feel nervous again.

“I might believe you. I always win…” he whispered in your ear, sending shivers through your spine and creating a lot of tension.

Your psycho mode almost made you lean forward again, daring to see if some friction was possible. But you didn’t, trying to be prudent and acting sane.

“I would’ve wanted a normal first interaction and this time you should’ve asked me out on a date. That’s how it works where I come from but… here, I guess not” he stepped aside as the librarian handed you the book. And as you thanked her and turned to leave and pay somewhere else, he took out a card and handed it to you.

“I’m sure we can work on some sort of arrangement. Here, you may call me…” slightly irritated that he didn’t say much about your inquiry, you snatched the card and walked away.

The cathartic feelings of wanting to keep talking to him and running away from him at the same time resulted in excruciating. It didn’t make sense, the point of him was to nowhere. Being clueless about his age, name, and everything made it feel wrong. Yet, curiosity was starting to burn you.

…

Like a miracle, the heavens moved and sprinkled some luck above you. You found some friends on campus, they spoke English like you and were foreigners as well. One of them was a friend of the owner of a club and invited you for the night.

The invitation made you forgetful about your salesman, whom you hadn’t talked with since the encounter in the library. The card he handed the last time rested between the book you bought the same day, making you unable to read more because it reminded you of the encounter with him.

It resulted unknown to you when was that your life had turned over the edge of becoming twisted. Your feelings for a mysterious man who seemed more accusable than appeared remained undecided.

He made you feel like a wildfire and a caged bird at the same time. Delicate but menacing.

He seemed older than you, professional in a field, mature and imposing. Which you didn’t mind when he appeared to ask you about The Divine Comedy. Either way, you were playing but couldn’t risk anything. Especially in a country where you didn’t know how everything worked.

After getting out of the shower, your thoughts on the salesman are completely faded. You slip on a sequin dress and paint your eyes with glitter and a smokey style.

Thereafter, at the club you let yourself go and have a wild night. Between classes, essays, and the issue with the salesman, you needed a time out.

Everything feels nice when you take a bathroom break and you smile at your reflection. You know you are close to being drunk, it’s the most enjoyable stage of ingesting alcohol.

“Hey, let’s go dancing, I couldn’t find you before!” Yells one of your friends after you reunite with the little group. You nod excitedly, taking her hand and letting her take you to the dance floor.

The music reminded you of that time when spinnin records were a trend and everyone played their mixes at parties back at home. As you move along the track, you don’t look at anything in particular, you just feel interesting and sexy. But your eyes end up giving a quick glance at one table, almost making you stop your euphoric moment.

You swore you saw your salesman.

Looking around you don’t see him, so you return dancing but the odd sensation in your chest doesn’t let you rest.

“What happens?” Asks another friend, looking worried.

“Nothing. Just thought I saw someone. Never mind…” you shake your head, smiling and convincing them that everything is fine.

But once they got more drunk, you walked out, despite curiosity, you wanted to confirm if the tall gorgeous man was near you.

Rarely you bring up to question your life decisions. Not because you thought you were perfect, but because you easily accepted your errors.

And it wasn’t hard to accept you completely messed up by getting out of the club. Where the night was colder, and some steps away from the main entrance, the crowd was loud. A man could be heard pleading and sobbing, which made you fearful but eager to see what was happening.

You peeked at the alley beside the club. A wave of shock flooded you once you noticed another man was punching the one who yelped and sobbed for forgiveness.

Your salesman was the attacker.

“Please! I’ll pay everything back!” Your mind raced back to the moment you spotted your salesman inside the club minutes ago.

His dark grey suit didn’t fit the aura of the place, but he seemed to be talking with the same man he was now punching.

It was obvious at that point that he wasn’t a good man. He made fun of making people play his seemingly innocent games to later laugh in the face whenever they lost. He was never flirting with you, the odd feeling of uncertainty you felt with him was right.

You had to go. You had to burn the card he gave you, avoid the station where you met him, and forget about his face.

There’s panic in your system, your heart beats fast and nausea starts coming up your throat.

You want to get immediately drunk and forget everything you saw with a hangover. You need it.

But you don’t get very far. Midway through the stairs that conduct to the club, a hand holds your forearm with extreme pressure and drags you inside a private room.

Your salesman finally found you.

…

“You just killed a man!” you almost yelled as soon as he pushed you inside and closed the door.

The room was very fancy like the club. It had a big desk near a window, flower-shaped hanging lamps, black sparkly floor tiles, and a sage velvet couch.

Your salesman slides his fingers through his hair and looks at the ceiling before turning to you. One hand still carrying the murder weapon.

“He deserved it” was all he answered and you take a breath. In need of an alibi, you opened a random fridge in the room and grabbed a beer. Your salesman watched how you sipped at the can. He knew you were feeling a mix of curiosity and disgust for him.

Once you drink at least half of the content, you sigh, brushing aside some hair and walking towards him.

“Who are you?” you ask pleadingly, desperate to know how far you’ve gone for him.

“Eventually you’ll know” he sounds cold, calculating, and menacing. “You didn’t call…”

He was taking advantage of your vulnerability.

“I met you a week ago, I don’t even know your name” you admit with shame and dissatisfaction.

For the first time, he genuinely touches you. Hands straight to your waist, making gasp in surprise.

“You’re smart and will eventually understand. You’re my good girl”

His good girl….

What was left to do when you have a sociopath holding your waist with the same hands he had used to kill a man? Play along, even if you are terrified.

What had been your horrified face, slowly ends up in a smirk, tilting your head, squandering cheekiness. “I’m not your good girl, sir”

He slowly leaned back, taking a seat on the sage couch, one of his hands going straight to rest behind his head, against the wall. He twirled the knife against his knee, making you uneasy, but confident about your upcoming words.

“If I walk away, you can’t do much with me, I’m a foreigner. Sure the authorities would dismantle whatever dirty job you’re into and that’s a big no-no” you explain, and feeling a little too bold, you step between his legs.

“Your lack of ignorance amazes me” he admits, offering you a cocky smile. “It makes me even more infatuated”

Your left knee pushed aside his hand twirling the knife. He remained still but sure seemed slightly surprised when you ended up straddling him. With your hands glued to his dark tie, putting it into place.

“Hmm, well, be careful. I am no threat, I barely have valuable skills to get rid of you but I know I could be a problem. So I guess I won, sir…” you allow yourself to smile, following a path with your fingers, from his tie to his cheeks and nose, softly tracing his pale skin.

“You don’t know what you’re talking about, sweetheart” You knew he was trying to be in control, and the best part was that you weren’t fighting for it.

“There’s a lot I might not understand. I’m just a girl who happened to be in this city for a temporary academic project” When your lips brushed his, you couldn’t deny he was so fucking hot, you wished he wasn’t so weird and probably part of a mafia or cult or whatever. “You are the grown-ass man who got obsessed with me”

“I just find you an odd but interesting player, sweet girl” he tried to use his innocent smile but it was useless when you grabbed him by the shoulders and finally dared to kiss him.

He controlled it the moment he touched you again. His hands had a possessive sting and firmly grabbed you by the hips. One of them still holding the knife.

Feeling bold, with adrenaline flowing freely, you softly bit his lower lip. You knew it was over when he almost let out a moan, and after checking he had his eyes closed, you literally jumped away from him.

Without looking back, you started running. Your clumsy steps turn frantic, knowing damn well he would start following you soon. As you literally start pushing people to get out, your heart beats faster than ever and you have a growing anxiety, begging you to stop and breathe.

Once the cold air hit you, as you took a cab and saw no sign of your salesman, confusion struck you and you saw the blood in your chest and arm.

“Are you alright, girl?” The driver asked, also watching your bleeding state.

“Yes, just an accident, I’m okay” he nods unsure, but starts driving after you give him your destination.

His knife must’ve sliced your skin when you stood up from his lap. When he moved one of his big hands to caress your chin.

It wasn’t that you were scared of him, of your salesman. Although you should be; but you weren’t. Could it be that the worst part was that you were attracted to him? Even after watching him kill a man? You were screwed.

You realize the reason why you always ran away from him is because you don’t know how to face his unpredictable demeanor.

At that point, you didn’t know what he wanted. Only that he was obsessed with you. But his intentions remained a mystery unsolved.

Before getting out of the cab, you pay and send your friends a message that you left early because you got a headache after vomiting. This didn’t happen, but would’ve been better to experience it as a young woman in her twenties.

…

When you opened the door, he was already inside. The worst part is that you weren’t surprised anymore. You only stood at the feet of the door, looking at him with uneasiness.

“You got me worried,” he says, stopping his movements around your table. “You left some blood stains and I thought it was serious”

“You accidentally showed me your true nature. A little bit of blood shouldn’t scare you” his shirt indeed had some bloody spots, his blazer was gone, and the sleeves of his messy shirt were rolled up. You hated that your first thought was that he looked very hot.

He moved and took a seat at one of your tables. He sighed and you realized that perhaps he was also screwed up. For letting himself go too far for you.

“I don’t regret any encounter we’ve had,” he says. “Me neither”

He can’t stop staring at your bloodstained dress and you notice.

Fuck everything, you thought.

I’m attracted to him, he’s attracted to me, What’s the worst thing that could happen? (I don’t want to know).

“Silly boy, look what you did to me,” you say looking at the soaked fabric.

Something possessed you at that moment. Your hands went straight to lift your dress. His eyes trailed your sparkly underwear, your lower belly, and your ribs that rose and fell as you breathed.

Your hands twirl behind your back to unhook your bra; also soaked, throwing it to the floor.

Your salesman is quiet, his innocent smile about to fall because you know you have taken him by surprise.

Likely you’ll get a scar. The would-be slightly deep, an uneven line that passed from your neck to your shoulder.

You step forward, confidently eyeing him.

“Clean it” he tried to stand up, probably to grab a med kit but you stopped him with your heel. “With your mouth. Lick it clean…”

He gulped.

His manspread became the only thing you could care about. How he eyed you with lust and possession for some seconds, and then to lean forwards.

Once again his hands landed on the curves of your hips and he made you step up, leaving him inches away from you.

Your sudden surgation grew and his hot tongue finally made contact with your skin.

You savored the feeling of his tongue, knowing he wouldn’t clean anything but the semi-dry blood over your breast. He was only making a mess.

Then, he lifts his head and catches your lips in a sullied kiss. The way he held you, made you understand how he always wanted control. Above anything.

“I will be gone within time. You can ruin me while it lasts…” you blurt out, panting for air.

“I’ll ruin you. But I don’t want to rip you apart. That’s pointless…” he admits in your lips, blood near your chin that he wipes out. “You’re the most fun I’ve had in years. My little toy…”

“Alright, I’ll be your toy” he nods, kissing you again. “Know that my lips are sealed when it comes to you”

“And you won’t have to worry about anything again…” you moan on his lips when he pulls your hair and finally makes you lay on your once new carpet, now displaying some splotches of blood.

“I don’t need your money”

“Don’t you want to make your mother proud and relieved from student debts? From rent?” You can’t think straight. “It’s not correct…”

“None of this is, y/n. Now shut your mouth and spread your legs, toy”

It’s wrong, immoral, a complete madness. You know everything will change once the night dies and the morning comes. But as much as you tried to communicate to him that you weren’t scared, you knew it was over, you’ve gotten too deep into his shit.

“Farewell to my purity” you whisper in his ear and it’s enough to make his eyes turn darker, full of lust.

Everything that consoles purity would be gone from you. And the fact that you were ready scared you. But once his hands started meeting places across your body, you welcomed the sin.

As well as your mind seized thinking. Not caring about the consequences.

_______________________________________________

If you ask for more I will provide

Quién me manda a escribir estas mamadas? I’m just ovulating.

[alphafratworship]

It didn't take much to get him there did it. The FAGGOT came to me begging for me to give him a bigger dick. Gave me a whole sob story about how he was stuck bottoming with the 1 inchr the universe gave him that he'd do anything to TOP with a REAL COCK . Who am I to deny a FAG's request like that especially with such vague wording.

Bitch was a real Twink if you can imagine, played into the " HOLE " hyper femme stereotype. lean build, bubble butt with slutty clothes just begging for some attention and thinking they're so high and mighty until they were fucked silly by a real man. I have no problems with COCKSUCKERS , a HOLES A HOLE but when they are a whiney little fairy I need them to change.

When I agreed to help him after he begged he immediately got excited, especially when I told him to undress. "The process is simple BRO , I'm going to give you MY DICK , then you'll have more then enough meat to satisfy any bitch you want" his lil DICKLET betrayed his face, I know he didn't want to think of people like bitches, scrunching his face in false superiority as the idea of ​​giving him MORE then he wanted to make him hard.

"No offense to you don't call me BRO , bu..but like I don't think like that, just want a bi..bi.bigger penis to please my boyf.." he stuttered out before I laughed.

"I don't need to know that shit bro, all guys want BIGGER FUCKSTICKS it's normal!" I say slapping him on the shoulder emphasizing fuckstick by thrusting forward a little, getting him hooked on me with each movement.

"So you're just going to like give me your dick, like what about you? And how are...." He began to ask before I cut his whiney ass off. "Listen BOY I have no problem with you having my COCK , I'll be fine no worries and it's easier to just do it then tell ya! You good with that." The eager slut agreed

He only got harder when I adjusted myself before pulling down my pants, my 12 inches of man meat hard as I pictured the transformation this FAG was going to go through. His face flushed and he moaned as I turned him around and pushed him against the sink of the bathroom. He even tried to beg for lube as I pressed my raging cock head against his experienced hole but I just laughed and told him it had to be all natural. Spitting on it as I pushed in easily, his pain turning to pleasure as Alpha spit entered into his system. Warmth filling his body as I thrust in and out.

He tried to grab onto his cock but I shouted not yet, pushing his hands to the sink as I felt his ass take me all the way to the root. Plunging past his prostate and making him wail in pleasure. Once I was all the way in I felt it, the heat filling my member as my bull balls slapped against his smaller nuts. It was starting.

I could look in the mirror, my cocky sneer as I grunted thrusting into him grew wider as I saw him throw his head back, eyes rolling. The warmth turning to heat as inch by inch my cock shrank and his GREW. His moans and his begging first started getting louder, before they started cracking as he proclaimed he could feel it and finally his voice dropped deeper and slower. MORE MANLY. His ass meeting my thrust as pleasured over took rationality, his hole which started off loose became like a vice trying to milk me. It was working.

By the first two inches he'd grown taller, as the testosterone shot him up from his pathetic 5'5 to a modest 6 foot. The next two I watched as his muscles bulged out in his back, up his neck and shoulders, down his arms. His noodle arms became bulging biceps and carved forearms that anyone would fawn over as his back muscles became wide and defined giving his body a Doritos like shape. His body creaking as his moans turned to grunting, a panicked look on his face as his features hardened and he was worried about the transformation.

"N..NOO l.. I don't want...want like big muscles... BRO !" He cried out, his voice cracking before the word BRO forced itself out of his mouth, scaring him more. His body and face changing against his wishes as I kept pumping into him. "What are you talking about BRO , you LOVE MUSCLES , you're a giant MEATHEAD !" A shit eating grin formed on my face as my COCK and Alpha spit hammered my words into him.

"No BROO , not..not... I'm not.. a.. I'm a.. MEATHEAD I like MUSCLES on other.. ME n.. BROS !" his eyes rolling back as he tries to fight my words and pleasure in this losing battle. My cock shrinks another two inches dissolving into him as his body explodes with muscles, his pecs getting plumper, and abs shredded as his face loses the last bit of softness. His hole around my cock TIGHTENS again as his mind starts to give way to my ideas as his life flooded down to his balls inflating them.

"Yeah BRO , you like your muscles DUDE . You're a DUMB , MEATHEAD , who only cares about LIFTIN , GAINS and getting PUSSY !" I emphasize each word with a thrust as I see his face twist in confusion and pleasure. His FUCKSTICK growing bigger as mine shrinks again going down to four inches while his soon to be BABYMAKER hits 9.

"I... I don't like pu... GA...FAGS...im...GAY...FAGS.... BRO I just wanted a big dick what the fuck are you doing to me " He moans his ass thrusting back as his body tries to take the last inches of my cock. Craving it's virile, alpha, straight energy as I grab him by his muscle tits with one hand, the other going down to his cock. His eyes were heavy now his brain filled with images of lifting weights partying, tits and pussy.

"Bro I'm just giving you what you wanted, you wanted a my big dick. I gave you MY big STRAIGHT dick! It just also comes with muscle, a need for partying and 100% straight sexuality!" I laugh as he cries out. The pleasure was erasing who he was and dropping it down to his balls permanently where he cum it all out.

I let the last two inches go as I moaned NO HOMO in his ear, watching as his cock got to a size twelve, his ass so tight mine barely got in his hole. My balls here pent up I was close and so was he I just needed him to do one last thing.

" No...NO HOMO BRO , your..myour cock...sp big dude I can't take it..mneed to get into the frat NO MATTER WHAT! !!" There it was. My new bro didn't know how big I was but his ass thought I was huge still so it quickly made it so (god I loved magic)

When I came from the gigantic growth of my dick in such a tight bussy, bros he launched out a waterfall of cum. Guess that fag lived a big life but it wasn't nearly big enough for him obviously. But now, now it would be.

I mean one look at this studs pussy pounder is all it takes to get them wet

[formulawolff]

america's princess - t.w.

pairing -> popstar!reader x toto wolff

word count -> 3.1k

warnings -> age gap relationship, cursing, slight angst (mostly online hate), toto is completely down bad and would do anything to make reader content, yadayadayada

a/n -> this fic was inspired by this ask! i hope you enjoy this one babe! <3 if you guys enjoy this one, i may consider expanding the au :p

"it appears that i have one more guest tonight. abel, would you please join me on the stage?"

in that moment, the sound that floods your ears is deafening.

abel tesfaye, also known as the weeknd, strolls onto the stage, bearing a dazzling grin as he approaches you. donning his signature sunnies, he pulls you in close, wrapping you tightly against his chest.

you can barely hear the words as the crowd roars. the flash from the phones is blinding, fans desperate to capture what was to come.

"i am so proud of you, pretty lady."

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

"th-hank you," your voice falters, threatening of tears as your head swivels, surveying the arena.

never in your life would you have predicted that you would be standing here, performing for a sold out crowd of tens of thousands of people.

people who banded together for one sole purpose.

to watch you perform.

and although you were on the verge of completely coming undone, the humility crashing over you like a tidal wave, you were well aware one thing.

the show must go on.

no matter what.

swiveling on your heel, your fingers curl around the microphone, bringing it to your plush lips, "i think you guys will like this one."

shooting a wink, you hold you breath as darkness swaths the stadium. all around, there are hushed murmurs, brimmed with anticipation. there are a few shouts here and there, but you remain still, your chest heaving as the adrenaline pumps in your veins.

a singular spotlight illuminates the stage, showering you with a silvery glow.

almost as if you were bathing in moonlight.

abel lingers to your left, remaining in place. in your peripheral, you catch him dipping his head, flashing a brief thumbs up.

this was it.

now or never.

as the notes begin, fans scream. in the first few rows, you can make out a band of girls of girls jumping in place, jostling with excitement. never in your life had you seen so many phones raised in the air, each of them pointed at the stage.

"i had a vision," your voice, oh so tantalizing, overcomes the stadium, the crowd growing silent. almost if as they were in a hypnosis, completely and utterly entranced by the scene unfolding before them.

"a vision of my nails in the kitchen. scratching counter tops, i was screaming. my back like arched a. my position couldn't stop you were hitting it

and i shouldn't cry, but i love it, star boy. and i shouldn't cry, but i love it, i love it, star boy."

as you move across the stage, twirling about, abel starts in, maintaining eye contact, raising an arm as he points.

"i just want so see you shine 'cause i know you are a star, girl."

inhaling a breath, you join in, the euphoria only growing more and more intense as it builds in the pit of your stomach.

"i just want to see you shine' cause i know you a star, girl."

with each note hit effortlessly, you finish the song, beaming as the stadium erupts. abel strides toward you, bringing you in for one final embrace before the lights dim. you feel his lips press against your cheek, and he murmurs something you can't quite decipher.

you wish you could make out what he said, you really did.

but you were too busy riding that high.

that feeling that left you buzzing, your fingers and toes trembling as you take a step forward, to the center of the stage. clearing your throat, you scramble to formulate a coherent sentence as the crowd chants, begging for just one more song.

"thank you, new york city. thank you for having me! madison square garden, you will forever be my favorite! from the bottom of my heart, thank you! be safe getting home! and remember to pick up after yourselves! goodnight!"

shifting your body, you begin to exit the stage. your crew flies forward, swarming you with congratulations as the stadium lights fill the venue, affirming the end of the show.

shaking your head, you graciously accept a bottle of water from your manager, nearly downing it. furrowing your brow, you can't help but notice the expression plaguing her features.

"come on hun, let's get you to the dressing room."

"what about abel?"

"we'll call him later," your manager waves a hand, almost dismissing the fact that you just performed with one of the largest artists in the world, "he let me know that he was on a tight schedule anyway. i'm sure he'll have some free time later on."

"are you--"

"i'm sure," she interjects, "come on now, let's go."

as she leads you down the maze of hallways, security in tow, you can't help but sense that there something slightly off. the energy all around was bursting with electricity. yet, it wasn't tense.

it was almost as if she was bursting with a secret she could no longer keep the way her cheeks were dusted pink. it didn't help her case that she was swaying slightly, almost fidgeting.

the walk to the dressing room felt like it was an eternity, the hallways never-ending. it was one turn after another, but you finally made it. however, before you can enter the room, your manager darts forward, her hand wrapping around the knob.

"allow me."

"is everything okay?" your heart is racing, thudding against your rib-cage as she nods, a little too fervently.

pushing the door, the two of you enter the room. however, your manager leaves the door propped open, rather than closing it shut. taking your hand, she almost tugs you toward the array of couches.

"okay! now close your eyes."

pursing your lips, you cock your head, "can you please tell me what the fuck is going on? you're acting really weird. are you sure everything is okay?"

"y-yes! there's just one last surprise for you! and i can't contain it anymore! i'msorrybutijust--"

"what is it?" you press, "you can't just say something like that and not--"

there's a tap on your shoulder, a brassy yet familiar voice rumbling from behind.

"some performance you put on tonight, miene liebe."

spinning on your heel, you nearly collapse at the sight before you.

toto wolff, team principal of mercedes amg petronas, and well, your boyfriend towers over you, an exquisite bouquet in his grasp.

a sob rises in your throat, and you can't help but melt into his arms. scooping you up into his embrace, he nearly crushes you against his chest, a hand cupping the back of your skull. nuzzling into his polo, you catch the scent of his cologne, tears streaming as strands of german roll of his tongue.

"h-how did you get here?"

a chuckle rumbles in his throat, "i pulled some strings. let's just say it was a work perk."

"i'll give you two some privacy," your manager clears her throat, "just text me in you need anything, hun. we'll let you know when it's time to board the bus."

as she darts out of the room, you raise your head, ensuring that the door was closed. toto hangs onto you, his hands beginning to roam. blinking, you almost study him, the realization that he was actually there starting to sink in.

tonight, he was clad in a dark leather jacket, a crisp white polo stretching across his toned chest. as always, he left the first two buttons undone, a chain glittering as it rested against his collarbone. khakis stretch down his legs, the team principal opting for a pair of loafers.

his brunette locks were swept up into their typical messy updo. he wore a silver watch on his wrist, the piece screaming luxury and wealth.

god, he always dressed so simple. but it was classy, put together. the look of a man with status yet graced with humility.

and that was the type of man toto was.

there was no elaborate story on how the two of you met.

you were introduced to toto wolff through a mutual friend.

and that mutual friend was none other than lewis hamilton.

it was a warm weekend in austin. a brand had invited you to attend the united states grand prix. at the time, you were on the uphill slope of your fame. you were a household name, an opener for the 1975. well-known but not large enough to sell out stadiums. it was a unique tour at the time, as your sound was a tad bit moodier, teetering on that line separating alternative and pop.

little did you know, that weekend would change the entire trajectory of your life.

at first, you were apprehensive about attending. you did like formula one, as your dad was a lifelong fan. yet, this was the first time in your life you were presented with the opportunity to not only watch a grand prix, but witness it from the paddock.

it was an offer you could not refuse.

so, naturally you accepted. the only stipulation was that the brand had to provide two more passes. one for not only your dad, but your mom too. they deserved to experience the weekend just as much as you did. after all, they were the reason you existed.

they were the ones who ignited your passion for music. they were the ones who supported you when you were just throwing together tracks in your bedroom.

so, the three of you flew out to austin. in the airport, you received a notification, from instagram. it was a message request. but not just any message request.

a message request from lewis hamilton.

in the message, he expressed his excitement that you were attending the grand prix, as he was a "big fan." he shared that he hoped to get a moment to introduce himself and show you around the mercedes paddock.

what sort of twenty-one year old would refuse that?

as fate would have it, you got your opportunity to meet with lewis. he showed you around the paddock, providing a full, in-depth tour of the garage as well. of course, you were a flustered, giggly mess.

never in your life would you have dreamed that you would be on lewis' arm, cracking jokes with the seven-time world champion.

and that is when you met toto wolff.

that weekend, he was a tad stressed. mercedes was not quite performing to their caliber, and the press was churning out headlines left and right. and with max verstappen completely dominating the track, the dream of another constructor's title was slipping away with each passing day.

the team principal was deeply invested in a conversation with his engineers when this giggle filled his ears. it was airy and light, reminiscent of a summer breeze. it only grew louder and louder, toto figuring that lewis was wooing another model.

however, as she came around the corner, toto realized that he was fucked.

completely and utterly fucked.

you were wearing a pair of light denim jeans, paired with a plain black short sleeve shirt. the material was smooth, hugging your frame in all of the right places. it was slightly cropped, as he could see the soft skin of your abdomen whenever you raised an arm or waved.

your hair was put together in a simple do, one for comfort and long-wear. from where he was, he could pick out the gleam of jewelry, with numerous rings on your fingers. you were wearing a plain pair of shoes, opting for comfort.

you were wearing makeup, the tones and hues accentuating your striking features.

and god, when you turned, facing him, toto swore he was done for.

however, it would be weeks before the team principal could even muster up the courage to ask lewis for your number. well, he had to do some eavesdropping at the grand prix to make sure lewis had your number in the first place. once that was knowledge was secured, he decided to act.

at first, the british driver was intrigued, confused on why his boss wanted his new friend's number. it didn't take very long for lewis to register what was happening. well, the way toto was stuttering and blushing did help.

however, across the ocean, you were working on an ep.

not just any ep.

an ep produced by the weeknd.

following austin, lewis was able to provide you with some connections. who knew that a formula one driver had so much access to the industry? regardless, you were extremely grateful for lewis' help.

and from there, the rest was history.

well, at least the fame.

coined america's princess, it was difficult for toto wolff to avoid you. he saw you nearly everywhere. on social media. in advertisements. at the paddock during race weekends.

since you were so close with lewis, you were starting to make more appearances in the mercedes garage.

which worked out in toto's favor.

although he did have your number saved in his phone, he wanted to get to know you first. the real you, in person. not over text. so whenever he was given the chance, he would strike up a conversation with you in the garage. sometimes he would take an early lunch just so he could catch you in hospitality.

then there was the night in brackley.

during a slight break in your tour, lewis invited you over to brackley for a weekend away in the countryside. you were a little burnt out, aching for some change in scenery. the nights on the bus were growing a little too long. the days were starting to blur together.

you ended up booking the quickest flight overseas, ready to just spend some time away from it all. it only took eleven hours and you were at the mercedes headquarters, laughing harder than you imagined possible. lewis introduced you to george, the two of you hitting it off instantly.

who knew that a popstar and two formula one drivers would be such a good mix?

before you knew it, lewis was suggesting drinks. george was on board, goading you to join them for a few rounds at a local pub about twenty minutes from the headquarters. it would just be a few shots, something to take your mind off things.

one thing lead to another, and you somehow ended up in the passenger seat of toto's luxurious coupe.

well, lewis and george were there too. the team principal did not expect to spend his night babysitting, but it was better than waking up to a tabloid headline in the morning. the team principal drove all three of you straight to his sprawling mansion. he ordered the boys to the guest rooms, while he helped you to his bed.

well, it was more like he carried you to his bed.

he maintained his distance, although every fiber of his being desperately wanted to touch you. to finally relish the softness of your skin. to hold you close. to feel you against him.

he maintained his composure. actually, he was quite proud of himself for keeping it together.

that was until you uttered those four words.

"stay with me, please."

it only took two steps until he was right there in that bed with you, burrowing under the covers so that you could nestle into chest. you fell asleep instantly, your lips parted ever so slightly.

and in that moment, toto had never seen anything so beautiful. so ethereal.

and that was how your relationship started. it was not an easy feat, as social media speculated. fans lurked, attempting to snap photos of you with your mystery man. the internet was full of sleuths, and they went to great lengths to puzzle the pieces together.

of course, there were a few moments in which you both slipped up.

every grand prix was excruciating. you couldn't even be in the same room as toto without the fans spreading wildfire. you had to be careful about what photos you posted. you had to dance around questions in interviews, the reporters desperate to divulge the truth. you were constantly hounded by the public on whether or not you were in a relationship.

who was he? what did he look like? how old was he? what did he do for work? was he in the industry? was it abel? or lewis? the two of you were pretty close. maybe it really was him all this time.

yet, you wouldn't share those private details. not until you were ready. there were people who knew, but it was only a select few. only those in your inner circle.

one day, the world would know who america's princess was dating.

sure, you were ready to share. you were chomping at the bit, actually. you wantd the world to know that you were dating toto wolff, team principal of amg petronas.

but were you ready for the storm that would follow? could you handle all of the press? the accusations on social media? the way people would talk about you?

would you lose your crown?

as you lay your head on his chest, toto's fingers dancing along your jawline, down to your neck, you can't help but shake this nagging sensation.

someone had to have seen toto at the show.

you didn't know who, but someone must have spotted him. there was no way you could miss him.

"something on your mind? you're rather quiet."

his voice breaks through the silence, grounding you back to earth. you shake your head, clearing your throat.

"i'm fine. just tired from the show, that's all. i'm not ready to leave you either."

"i know, my love," toto exhales, pressing a tender kiss to your temple, "we'll be together soon. only a few more weeks."

as the words fade in your ear, there's a ding on the table. licking your lips, you sit up, reaching for your phone. it was more than likely a text from your manager, or a message from your mom congratulating you on the concert.

however, as the screen lights up, your jaw goes slack, the phone nearly sliding out of your grasp.

it was a notification from X, several of them actually.

your fingers tremble as your eyes scan over the post. sensing your distress, toto straightens up, wrapping an arm around your shoulder.

"what's going on? tell me what's -- oh fuck."

the post was a photo of the two of them. it was grainy, but it was no use. all of the evidence was there.

it was a photo of the two of you after a night out. a series, actually. you couldn't quite distinguish where you were, but you could make out that it was you. with him.

your bodies intertwined, back against the passenger door of his car. one hand was shoved underneath your shirt, the other wrapped around the base of your neck, the world crumbling away as your mouth found his.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

[clockwork-hearted]

This was the first queer movie I watched in high school. I remember finally having good, strong WiFi and exploring YouTube one night. Was using my refurbished MacBook that I begged my dad to get me so I can have something to use for school.

I don’t remember how exactly I came across this movie (honestly was probably going through some YouTube rabbit hole of “movies where guys make out” or the classic “two men kissing” search), but it was the full length movie. And it was free.

I was so excited to watch it and see what kind of guy on guy action I would get to see. But being forced to stay in the closet growing up, I couldn’t just outright watch this movie while my parents were home.

So I bookmarked it. Made sure I even saved the link somewhere. And had to wait until my parents weren’t home.

Thankfully, I ended up realizing that I was a teen that was allowed to stay up late on the weekends. So I stayed up, waited until both my parents were in their rooms, fast asleep, and then I went into my room, closed the door (couldn’t lock it though. Locking bedroom doors was an offense that would cause a scene every time for absolutely no reason), plugged my headphones in, and snuggled up and watched it.

I remember sitting upright to start it then getting tired and deciding to lay down. Ended up laying the laptop on its side just so I could keep watching haha

And I remember going through the rollercoaster of emotions seeing these two characters having a connection but being so twisted up about it. Regardless of everything they went through, I still wanted that. I still wanted someone I could kiss passionately. Someone I could go to bed with and wake up next to in our own little world. Someone I could go to the beach with and spend all day with. Someone who wanted to push me for my abilities (don’t have any but it played into my fantasies lol) and strive to be the best I could be at them.

And then reaching the end of the movie and being so happy with it. I remember crying. Crying so much that I thought I wasn’t going to be able to stop. I remember shoving my face in my pillows to try and muffle my crying.

Oh, I learned to cry silently so very quick in my home. How I learned what it meant to be even more suppressed than I already was. How I had to learn to hold back all the choking sounds my throat would utter and just let the tears flow. Silently blowing my nose into tissues so I wouldn’t wake my parents and cause a scene.

“Why are you crying? What’s happening? What did you watch? What’s going on? Etc. etc. etc.” - yeah, like I was going to come clean about my emotions and be able to talk these things out. Pht. How I wished and how I dreamed that I could. Would’ve made growing up easier. But I didn’t have those kinds of parents.

So the first night I watched this movie, it meant a lot in such little time. Movies like this really saved me as a teen.

I started doing a deep dive into any and all other queer movies I could find online for free (but that’s a story for a different time).

Tbh, I had forgotten about this gem of a movie. Made me feel a little guilty for forgetting, mostly because it really helped me continue pretending, and knowing that one day I would find someone to experience beautiful moments with. It allowed me to realize that queer media (that wasn’t porn) was out there, that I didn’t have to feel alone, and that it was only a few key strokes and google searches away.

For anyone who read through this whole thing (I know I blabbed, but I really needed to get this off my chest and my mind), thank you.

And I also hope that even though the world can feel so against you, even in spaces that are supposed to be safe, that there are people out there that know and understand you and can relate to how you feel.

I know it’s always easier said than done, but hang in there. And if it all gets to be too suffocating, please remember there are resources out there to help. But please, please, please, don’t get snuffed out. Let yourself burn as bright as you can. Because at the end of the day, you will always find Shelter- whether it’s with family members, friends, teachers, chosen/adoptive families, online communities, etc. you will find it. And you will be safe. And you will be loved.

I wish you all the very best. May this movie and many others bring you as much joy as it did to me. <3

Shelter (2007) dir. Jonah Markowitz