#i just want her to be stuck in a constant loop of

[monards]

i think i just really like the idea of rhine having a very unnatural, natural hair color. like, a normal human CAN technically have white or silver hair naturally,,, but it's like bound to have you stick out because it's technically 'unnatural' . but since this is genshin,, white/gray and silver , as unique of a hair colour it is, isn't nearly unnatural enough to go along with what most non-human beings have,, so she's just like. in the middle. somewhere. (i dont think this makes sense. what am i saying.)

i am once again pushing my silver-white haired rhine agenda

[jinxvex]

Hiiiii! I love your work! Do you think you could do Vi x reader hcs where the reader is like very day-dreamy? Like head stuck in the clouds a lot? Tysm <33

♱ gf!vi x daydreamy gf!reader ♱

hey!! so excited to put something out 4 violet!!

you could interpret this as a modern!au or arcane!u 😌

cw: sfw & nsfw, dom!vi + sub!r, wholesome at the beginning, vi is an amazing and understanding gf, vi is v flirty, teasing, dirty talk, mild choking/slapping, possessiveness, dumbification, degradation/praise, vi's a bit condescending, etc!!

+ strap usage, she eats you out + uses her fingers!!

♱ vi LOVES the fact that you’re so daydreamy and always in your own world. she appreciates your uniqueness + the way your mind works!

♱ vi thinks you’re so adorable when you slowly trail off in the middle of speaking to her—the vibrant imagery, thoughts, and inner workings of your mind too overwhelming for you to handle! she lets you look off into the distance for a bit before you’re quickly scrambling to apologize for getting lost in your own head (again lol)!!

♱ she’s quick to shut down your apology with a, “nah, babe it‘s okay. take your time, yeah?” + “you in your own head again, huh?” (EVERY SINGLE TIME!)

♱ after boxing/the gym, she often comes home to your shared apartment to you blasting music through your headphones. you’re bopping your head and bouncing your leg at your desk. lost in how the music speaks to you and flows through your veins like a constant electric current. you don’t hear or even notice her until she comes up behind you, wraps her arms around your shoulders, and nuzzles her head into your neck, “whatcha doin’, pretty? what’re you listening to?” + “love comin’ home to you all happy and shit—makes my day sweetheart.”

♱ in public, when you’re walking together, holding hands, and enjoying each other's company in silence, you can’t help but get in your head! your brain buzzing with thoughts about how nice vi’s hand feels in yours and how nice they feel in… other places… all of a sudden, you’re not paying attention to where you’re going and she gets a little stern with you. before you run into anyone or anything she’s telling you to, “watch where you’re goin’, hmm?” + “careful, babe. don’t want you gettin’ hurt now, do we?”

♱ when you're upset, whether it be because you're self-conscious about something or having other negative thoughts, you get sort of locked in your own mind--endless flashes of darkness encompassing your headspace. when this happens she's whispering comforting praises into your ear, "it's okay, princess. 'm here. not goin' anywhere." and she's pulling you into her chest to tell you to, "listen to my heartbeat, come back to me." + "hey. hey, look at me, baby."

♱ vi nudges your cheek with her fingers to get your attention when your attention has strayed away from her, "talkin' to you, babe."

♱ she totally notices when you’re fantasizing about her.

WHAT!! who said that?! 🤭

nsfw incoming...

♱ you and vi love to partake in your separate hobbies while in each other’s presence so when she’s cooking, writing, or boxing in the corner(?), you’re almost always on the other side of the room reading a book. she knows the books you read get a little dirty. when she glances at you from across the room she isn’t surprised to see you staring off into the distance (again) with your book loosely resting in your lap. you’re biting your lip and pressing your thighs together. she smirks knowingly and stops what she’s doing to walk over to you, “what’s got you thinkin’, baby?” + “wanna show me what’s got you so worked up?”

♱ she won’t stop teasing you until you’re reading her the sentence that threw you in for a loop—thinking of her hands and mouth pleasuring you. images of her muscles rippling against your skin as she fucks you into the mattress with her strap momentarily stunning you.

♱ your daydream does become a reality when she's doing just that. minutes later. she's forcing you to make eye contact with her, to give her your full attention and focus when she has you in missionary with your legs propped up on her shoulders. her pace is brutal, plunging her strap deep into your cunt with her hand wrapped around your neck; choking you and holding your head in place so you can't look away.

♱ she's a sucker for dirty talk so you know she's all up in your ear like: "fuck, baby. yeahhh, yeah. look at me when you take this dick, pretty girl." + "don't want you goin' off in your own head when i'm fucking you, need you to see exactlyy how i'm treating this fuckin' pussy."

♱ she will NOT let you cum until she knows for sure that you aren't thinking of anything except for her—she wants your brain to be mush by the time she's done with you. she wants you to let go, fall, and trust that she'll catch you. take care of you.

♱ she's not afraid to rough you up a little if you aren't listening. she'd tap your cheek and tighten her grip on your throat as she stuffs you even fuller; as deep as she can go, "*thrust* look. *thrust* at. *thrust* me." she's drilling you now, "c'mon, babe, can't you follow a simple direction? or are you too cockdrunk to function?" + "yep, thaaat's it, baby."

♱ vi also enjoys eating you out from the back while she shoves her middle and ring finger into your sopping wet cunt. as she eats you out like it's her last meal on earth, tongue zigzagging and sloppily mouthing at your heat, her fingers are curling up against your g-spot. she knows your brain thinks nothing but her because of every whimper, moan, and chant. "yes, yes, fuck yes! right thereee, vi. fuuuck" you're practically screaming at the top of your lungs. not long after she's pulling her mouth off of you and rising up to lean over your back and dig her fingers deeper inside, "there, huh? that's what she needs, isn't it? pussy's swallowing my fingers whole. greedy girl."

feel free to send more reqs about vi!! love her real bad 🤠

[ssa-danhotchner]

Happier | Aaron Hotchner x fem!reader

summary: Years after their breakup, y/n struggles with seeing Hotch move on with his new partner, Beth, while still working alongside him every day.

cw: use of y/n, past relationship, heartbreak, angst?, themes of moving on, Haley mentioned. let me know if I missed anything

wc: 1k

note: English isn't my first language so please be kind. I had the entire sour album stuck in my head. Please give me some ideas to write

read part two here

The sound of laughter echoed faintly through the bullpen as the last of the team packed up for the night. You sat at your desk, staring blankly at the screen of your computer. The words of your report blurred together, the glowing monitor casting pale light over your exhausted face. You didn’t even know why you were still there; everyone else had gone home.

Everyone, except for him.

Aaron Hotchner.

It had been years since the two of you had ended things, but the wound never seemed to fully heal. Time had dulled the ache, sure, but it hadn’t erased the memories.

You could still see the way he’d smile when it was just the two of you, the way his hand would linger on yours longer than necessary, the way he whispered your name like it was the only word that mattered. Back then, it felt like you had something unshakable, something real. But life had a way of pulling people apart, and for you and Aaron, it had been no different.

It wasn’t a dramatic breakup. There were no screaming matches, no accusations hurled in the heat of the moment. It had been quiet, almost agonizingly so. You’d both known it was over before either of you said the words. The demands of his job, his grief over Haley, and the ever-present weight of being a single father—it was too much for him to bear. And you, despite loving him more than anything, hadn’t been enough to bridge the growing gap between you.

“I can’t give you what you deserve,” he’d said that night, his voice heavy with regret. “You deserve more than stolen moments and half-hearted promises.”

And that had been it.

You had cried, of course. For weeks, maybe months. But you told yourself you’d be fine, that you’d move on. You tried to convince yourself that his words weren’t true, that you could have made it work. But deep down, you knew he was right.

Still, knowing it was the right thing didn’t make it any easier.

Now, years later, you had settled into a new normal. Working alongside him every day was a constant reminder of what you’d lost, but you’d learned to compartmentalize. You had to. There was no room for personal feelings when lives were on the line.

Or at least, that was what you told yourself.

Your eyes drifted to his office, where the light was still on. Through the glass, you could see him sitting at his desk, his phone pressed to his ear. His face softened as he spoke, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

You knew who he was talking to.

Beth.

The name tasted bitter on your tongue, though you hated yourself for it. She was kind, warm, and good for him. You’d never met her formally, but you’d heard enough to know she made him happy. And wasn’t that what you wanted? For him to be happy?

But it wasn’t that simple.

Because every time you saw him with her—every time you heard him mention her in passing—it felt like someone was twisting a knife in your chest. You wanted him to be happy, but not like this. Not with her.

I hope you’re happy, but not like how you were with me.

The lyrics played on a loop in your mind, echoing your most selfish thoughts. You wanted to believe he still thought of you, that some small part of him missed what you’d shared. But the rational part of you knew better. Aaron Hotchner wasn’t the type to dwell on the past. He had moved on.

“Hey.”

His voice startled you out of your thoughts. You looked up to see him standing in front of your desk, his expression tinged with concern.

“You’re still here?” he asked, his brow furrowed.

“I could say the same to you” you replied, forcing a small smile.

He didn’t return it. “You should go home. It’s late.”

“I will” you said, though you had no intention of leaving just yet.

For a moment, neither of you spoke. The air between you felt heavy, weighed down by all the things left unsaid.

“Are you okay?” he asked finally, his dark eyes searching yours.

You hesitated. “Yeah. Just tired, I guess.”

He nodded, but you could tell he didn’t quite believe you.

“Goodnight, y/n” he said softly, his voice carrying an undercurrent of something you couldn’t quite place.

“Goodnight, Hotch”

You watched him walk away, the sound of his footsteps fading into the quiet of the bullpen.

Once he was gone, you let out a shaky breath, the weight in your chest threatening to crush you. You hated how much power he still had over you, how his presence could unravel you so completely.

Leaning back in your chair, you closed your eyes, letting the memories flood in despite the pain they brought. You thought of the nights you’d spent tangled together, whispering secrets in the dark. You thought of the way he’d kiss your forehead before leaving for work, murmuring promises to come back to you.

And you thought of the way it all ended, the way he walked out of your life without looking back.

It wasn’t fair.

You wanted to move on, to let go of the love that still clung to you like a ghost. But every time you tried, you found yourself pulled back to him, to the man who had once been your everything.

You sighed, grabbing your bag and shutting off your computer. As you walked to your car, the night air was cool against your skin, but it did little to soothe the ache in your heart.

Sitting behind the wheel, you gripped the steering wheel tightly, fighting back the tears that threatened to spill over.

“I hope you’re happy,” you whispered to the empty car, your voice cracking. “But don’t be happier.”

The words hung in the air, a quiet confession to a love you could never fully let go of.

And as you drove away, the memories of him lingered, a bittersweet reminder of the love you once had—and the happiness you’d never find again.

[rosemariiaa]

𝘾𝙝𝙖𝙥𝙩𝙚𝙧 01, 𝙅𝙪𝙨𝙩 𝙖𝙣𝙤𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙧 𝙪𝙨𝙚𝙧.

“I wish I was a normal girl, oh, my How do I be,

how do I be your baby?”

𐙚— pairing: Paige x Azzi

𐙚— synopsis: tell the truth?

𐙚— rosie note: ahh first chapter! i’m really excited to see how this series goes..(i hope you guys are too). i do wanna say I will not be dropping chapters back to back just because ik each chapter will be long enough and also i have other things to do. but you never know what i have up my sleeve sooo just wait! i actually did cry a lot writing this so yw. happy reading lovelies 💌

𐙚—themes: hurt/comfort, mentions of depression, some fluff

enjoy!!!

May, 2014. Virginia MN

Azzis days felt like she was wading through an invisible fog, where each step felt heavier than the last. She moved through school in a daze, surrounded by classmates and noise but feeling distanced from it all, as if she were behind a glass wall. Teachers spoke, friends laughed, yet nothing seemed to reach her, and nothing seemed worth responding to.

She leaned against her bedroom wall, her gaze fixed on the ceiling, the thoughts came like waves, too heavy to escape but too constant to ignore. At home, the silence only deepened. Her puppy was her only real source of comfort, a small warmth that reminded her she wasn’t completely alone.

Yet, even with him there, the sadness was like a relentless wave, threatening to pull her under. As she lay in bed, Azzi’s mind circled around her own thoughts, dark and tangled, the weight pressing down on her chest. Sometimes, she felt the urge to cry, but the tears would stall. Other times, they would pour out uncontrollably, as if her body knew it needed to release the heaviness she carried.

Azzi remembered words that lingered in her mind like a mantra:

“Cry. Cry for an hour, cry for a day, cry for a week. Cry until you can’t cry anymore, until the tears stop coming, until you feel better, until you heal.

Crying is your body’s way of releasing sadness; let it out and then let it go.”

But the letting go part felt impossible.

She knew she was lucky—talented, even—but that didn’t stop the weight pressing down on her, making everything she did feel more like a chore than a choice.

Sometimes it felt like she was just going through the motions: school, basketball practice, homework, repeat. But there was a deeper loneliness, one that made her question what any of it even meant. Every now and then, she’d think, Would anyone even notice if I disappeared for a day? A week? That quiet thought haunted her, lingering in the back of her mind as she navigated her days, waiting for someone to prove it wrong. But no one ever did.

Grabbing her laptop, she opened up her anonymous Blogspot account. Writing had become her escape, a safe place to let her thoughts spill out without anyone knowing they were hers. She’d been posting as @unicornpuppy35 for a while now, hoping someone out there might understand her, even if they never knew her name. A new notification popped up.

Azzi blinked at the screen, surprised to see a comment on her latest post. It was from someone called @boogers_p.

“hey, I saw your post about feeling stuck. I get that. I feel like that a lot, too.”

For a moment, she almost ignored it. Just another user on the internet, right? But something about the way they’d phrased it struck a chord. She found herself typing back before she even knew what she wanted to say.

unicornpuppy35: Oh yeah? What’s got you feeling stuck?

The reply came quickly.

boogers_p: lol, how much time u got? but mostly… everything’s just movin’, and i’m still here. it’s like ur doing all this stuff, but half the time u can’t even tell if u actually care abt it.

Azzi frowned, feeling that weird sense of familiarity in the words.

unicornpuppy35: Exactly, like a constant loop. But what’s the point, right?

boogers_p: fr! it’s like… i’m goin’ thru the motions but who even knows why.

A smile tugged at her lips. Whoever this was, they got it. They actually understood what she was feeling. And it was strange, but it made her feel just a little less alone.

unicornpuppy35: So, what’s your thing? Like, if you had to pick.

boogers_p: lol basketball. but sometimes i’m like… is this all there is?

Azzi blinked. Out of all the things they could have in common, it was basketball. Funny, or maybe just ironic.

unicornpuppy35: Wait, seriously? Are we living the same life or what?

boogers_p: guess that means we’re stuck in the same boat, huh?

Azzi let herself relax into the conversation, forgetting for a moment that she was talking to a stranger. She leaned back, fingers tapping against the keyboard.

unicornpuppy35: So, if we’re both stuck… what’s the plan? How do we get out?

boogers_p: girl, if i knew, we’d be out already, trust. maybe we keep chattin n figure it out.

Azzi laughed softly, a weight lifting from her shoulders that she hadn’t even realized was there.

unicornpuppy35: Deal. Looks like I just made a new friend.

There was a pause, then @boogers_p’s next message popped up.

boogers_p: btw, ‘unicornpuppy35’? gotta ask: what’s the story there?

Azzi rolled her eyes, smirking as she typed back.

unicornpuppy35: What? You don’t like it?

boogers_p: nah it’s cool, just funny. u like unicorns that much?

unicornpuppy35: Who doesn’t like unicorns? And I have a puppy, so it made sense at the time.

boogers_p: lol alright then, unicorn girl.

unicornpuppy35: “Boogers” is somehow less embarrassing to you?

The reply was fast.

boogers_p: hey! don’t come for my name. so do u even keep up w ball like that?

Azzi laughed, a real laugh, and typed, I mean, I love the game, especially the wcbb, but I barely keep up with men’s college basketball.

boogers_p: WHAT i can’t believe that …u at least know who Kyrie is right??

Azzi smiled, rolling her eyes as she typed, I know who he is, I just don’t watch him like that. I’m more into Breanna Stewart.

boogers_p: ohh okay stewie’s dope. but trust, kyrie’s handles r insane. hold up lemme get u the link.

Azzi barely clicked on the link before skimming, smiling at Paige’s excitement.

As Azzi sat back, scrolling through this user’s texts, a small part of her was overwhelmed by everything, like a weight on her chest she couldn’t quite shake off. It felt strange how this stranger’s blunt and funny messages could draw her out of her own head—even if just for a bit. She was used to feeling invisible, yes, her struggles buried under her quiet exterior, but this strangers presence, even from behind a screen, felt real.

A few seconds ticked by as she sank into her thoughts, that weight of loneliness and uncertainty creeping in again. She knew people saw her as the “soft one,” but beneath that, her emotions felt raw, and she wondered if anyone truly understood.

Suddenly, her phone screen lit up with rapid notifications.

boogers_p: hellooooooo? did u leave?

boogers_p: r u asleep already or smth??

Azzi’s lips turned up in a small smile. She quickly replied.

unicornpuppy35: “Geez, relax. I’m still here.”

boogers_p: “finally! thought I lost ya for a sec. kinda rude to just ghost me like that, you know?”

Azzi smirked, typing back slowly.

unicornpuppy35: “Yeah, yeah. Guess I was just thinking.”

boogers_p: “Ooooh, deep thoughts? Or like… deep-deep thoughts?”

Azzi hesitated, fingers hovering over the keyboard, but she quickly brushed it off.

unicornpuppy35: “nope, just regular deep, I guess.”

boogers_p: “good, I thought you might’ve been drafting your escape from my endless questions.”

unicornpuppy35: “ y’know you’re kind of funny , i’ll give you that. lol”

boogers_p: “ik ik. btw, where do you go to school? And don’t tell me it’s some fancy private place or whatever.”

unicornpuppy35: “Haha, what are you, a stalker? why do you wanna know?”

boogers_p: “what? nah, just curious! alright, lemme guess… you seem like a midwest kid. Iowa?”

unicornpuppy35: “nope, not even close. Try again, Sherlock.”

boogers_p: “alright, alright… new jersey?”

Azzi laughed, shaking her head at her screen.

unicornpuppy35: “nope. You’re pretty bad at this, you know.”

boogers_p: “whatever, I’m warming up! Um… cali? bet you’re like, all into the beach.”

unicornpuppy35: “keep guessing P! maybe you’ll get it right before I graduate.”

boogers_p: “damn, you’re killin’ me here. fine, one more—Texas?”

unicornpuppy35: “Guess you’re gonna have to stay curious, stalker.”

“P” sent a string of laughing emojis, clearly frustrated but amused.

boogers_p: “oh, okay, I see how it is. mysterious and all that. fine, keep your secrets.”

Azzi smiled, finding herself genuinely entertained by Paige’s playful determination to figure her out. It was nice, having someone care enough to ask.

Azzi shook her head, laughing at the sight of P typing “helloooooo?” over and over.

unicornpuppy35: Still here! Just still laughing at your terrible guesses.

boogers_p: ohhh shut up 😆 one day you’ll tell me!

As they continued chatting, Azzi couldn’t help but feel a little lighter, like maybe she wasn’t quite so alone after all.

————-

I glanced at the clock in the corner of my screen. Midnight. Crap. How had it gotten so late?

unicornpuppy35: alright, P, it’s late. I should get some sleep—school tomorrow and all 😊

I typed, hesitating for a moment before hitting send. I didn’t want the conversation to end, not when it felt so… easy.

The reply came almost instantly.

boogers_p: lame but yeah, same here. don’t oversleep, though, or I’ll roast you about it next time

I smiled softly, my fingers moving across the keyboard.

unicornpuppy35: gnn P

boogers_p: night unicorn, catch you later.

I closed my laptop, leaning back against my pillow with a soft sigh. My room was quiet except for the gentle snuffling of my puppy curled up at the end of the bed. I hated how much I didn’t want to stop talking to her—or whoever she was—but I could already hear my mom’s voice in my head if I overslept tomorrow.

Still, the flicker of warmth in my chest wouldn’t go away. For the first time in a while, I didn’t feel so alone.

————-

The warm weight of my puppy’s paws jolted me awake, followed by his enthusiastic tongue licking my cheek. I groaned, shoving him away gently before squinting at my phone.

“Crap.” 7:40. At least practice was after school today, but I still had school before then.

“Azzi!” Mom’s voice carried from the kitchen, sharp and frustrated. “Do you even know what time it is? You’re going to be late—again!”

“I know, Mom!” I called back, stumbling out of bed and tossing clothes around my room.

When I finally trudged downstairs, backpack slung over one shoulder, she was waiting, arms crossed. “Do you? Because this is becoming a habit. You need to start taking this seriously, Azzi. Coaches notice stuff like this.”

I rolled my eyes, grabbing a grabbing a piece of nutella toast from the plate on the counter. “It’s not like I’m failing or anything.”

“That’s not the point!” Her voice rose a notch, and I flinched. “You’re juggling basketball, school, and everything else. If you can’t manage your mornings, how are you supposed to handle the rest?”

“I’ve got it under control.” The words came out sharper than I intended, and guilt immediately twisted in my stomach.

She softened slightly but shook her head. “You have so much potential, Azzi. I just don’t want you to waste it. That’s all.”

I sighed, hugging the puppy briefly before heading out the door. “I won’t.”

Her voice followed me, softer now. “Make sure you don’t.”

As I stepped outside, the crisp morning air hit me, making me shiver slightly. My puppy barked once from the window, his tail wagging furiously. I couldn’t help but smile, even as Mom’s words echoed in my head.

She wasn’t wrong, but sometimes it felt like the pressure of living up to everyone’s expectations, especially hers was just all so suffocating. I jogged toward the bus stop, earbuds in, my mind already racing through the day ahead: school, practice, and maybe—if I had time—another chat with P.

The bus ride wasn’t much better than waking up. Just the usual hum of the engine and kids mumbling into their phones. I leaned my head against the window, the cold glass biting at my cheek, and zoned out. School wasn’t exactly a place I looked forward to.

By the time I walked into first period, I was already tuning out the chatter around me. The teacher called for us to break into groups, and I found myself sitting with three classmates who barely glanced my way.

“We should start with the data chart,” I said, glancing at the worksheet.

“Yeah, yeah,” one of them mumbled, already scribbling something down.

Another classmate leaned over to add something, completely ignoring what I’d just said. My lips pressed into a thin line. This wasn’t new. It was like my words existed in a bubble, bouncing off everyone and disappearing into thin air. I tried again.

“If we divide the work, we’ll finish faster—”

“Wait, no, let’s do this first,” someone interrupted, their voice cutting over mine.

I stopped mid-sentence, letting my pen drop to the table. They didn’t even notice. Just kept talking like I wasn’t there.

I didn’t bother saying anything else for the rest of the class. It wasn’t worth it.

By lunch, I was drained. I slid into a chair at the edge of the cafeteria, next to a group of friends who were already knee-deep in some conversation.

“Azzi, did you see that ridiculous shot Ty took in practice yesterday?” one of them asked, barely waiting for my answer before launching into their own commentary.

I nodded, offering a small laugh. It wasn’t worth jumping in. Every time I tried to add something to a conversation, it either got talked over or shifted in another direction.

But it didn’t stop me from noticing.

As I picked at my food, my thoughts drifted back to last night’s chat with P. They actually listened. Responded. It felt… different. Maybe that’s why it was still on my mind.

————-

By the time I got to practice, my head was already in a fog. It felt like no matter where I went, no one really saw me. At school, at home—was it too much to ask for someone to actually listen?

“Azzi, let’s go! You’re up!” Coach’s voice snapped me back. I jogged to the front of the line, grabbing a ball. Simple drill. Layups. Easy.

Except I missed.

“Come on, Azzi!” one of the captains called, exasperation clear in her voice. My jaw tightened.

I grabbed the rebound and tried again, but my footwork was off. The ball clanged off the rim.

“Focus, Azzi!” Coach barked.

I nodded, swallowing the lump in my throat, and got back in line. When my turn came again, I nailed the layup, but the damage was already done.

As we transitioned to scrimmage, it only got worse. I called for the ball—wide open on the wing—but my teammate didn’t even look my way. I sprinted to the other side of the court, yelling louder this time. Nothing.

“Azzi, move the ball!” someone shouted when I finally had possession, cutting me off before I could even make a decision.

It was like being invisible. Nothing new though.

By the time practice ended, my legs ached, and my chest felt even heavier than when I’d started. I stayed behind to shoot free throws, trying to shake off the weight.

One ball after another swished through the net, but the sinking feeling didn’t budge.

By the time I finally walked out of the gym, the sun had dipped low, painting the sky in soft pinks and oranges. My legs felt like lead, and I slung my bag over one shoulder, the strap digging in just enough to annoy me. God.

I spotted our car parked at the far end of the lot, Mom’s silhouette visible through the windshield. She was scrolling on her phone, waiting. I sighed, tugging my hoodie tighter as I trudged toward her.

As I got closer, I caught sight of my brothers in the backseat. Jose was watching something on his tablet, headphones on, and Jon was playing with a Rubik’s cube. Lucky them—they didn’t have to deal with “the talk” I was sure was coming.

The second I opened the door and tossed my bag onto the floor, Mom started in.

“So, your coach called me today,” she said, her tone sharp but controlled.

I froze, mid-seatbelt click. Great.

She said you’ve been distracted. Not focused. Is something going on?”

I stared out the window, watching the streetlights blur past. “I’m fine,” I mumbled.

“Azzi, ‘fine’ isn’t good enough. You’re not putting in the work, and it’s starting to show. You need to get your head in the game. You think colleges are going to be interested in someone who’s half-assing it?”

Her words stung, but I bit my tongue, glancing at Jose and Jon in the backseat. Jon was tapping away on his tablet, and Jose had his headphones in. Good. I didn’t want them listening to this.

“I’m not half-a wording it,” I said quietly.

“Oh, really? Because that’s not what I heard today. Your coach says otherwise.”

I clenched my jaw, willing myself not to argue. I couldn’t let this turn into something bigger, not with my brothers right here.

“Mom, I said I’m fine,” I repeated, more firmly this time.

She sighed, shaking her head. “Azzi, you can’t afford to slack off. You’ve worked too hard for this. Don’t throw it all away now.”

I stared straight ahead, tuning her out as best I could. My chest felt tight, but I refused to let it show. I nodded along, letting her words wash over me without sticking.

When we finally pulled into the driveway, I bolted from the car, mumbling something about needing to shower. The second my bedroom door shut, I collapsed onto my bed, burying my face in the pillow.

For a few minutes, I just lay there, letting the weight of the day press down on me. Then I grabbed my laptop and opened the chat.

unicornpuppy35: “hey, you around?”

The reply came quicker than I expected.

boogers_p: “yup what’s up?”

I hesitated, fingers hovering over the keyboard. How much could I even say without sounding like I was whining?

unicornpuppy35: “rough day.”

boogers_p: “wanna talk about it?”

I stared at the screen. Did I?

unicornpuppy35: “not really. just needed a distraction.”

boogers_p: “fair. ok, here’s a distraction: what’s your dream ice cream flavor? like if you could invent anything.”

I blinked at the random question, a laugh escaping before I could stop it.

unicornpuppy35: “that’s… so random.”

boogers_p: “that’s the point. distraction, remember?”

boogers_p: “but… you do know you don’t have to push it down, y’know? sometimes it helps to just let it out. Especially with me.”

My chest tightened again. It wasn’t like I didn’t want to talk—I just wasn’t sure how.

unicornpuppy35: “oh um okay, it’s just been a lot. school sucks, practice was worse, and my mom’s acting like I’m throwing my whole future away. But what’s the point in saying anything? It’s not like it changes.”

I stared at the screen, half-wishing I could take it back. But, I typed again.

unicornpuppy35: “it’s like… everybody talks to me like I’m supposed to change. like they’ve already decided what’s wrong with me and what I need to do to fix it. but how am I supposed to change when I don’t even know who I am yet? it’s like no one cares about that part.”

The typing bubble appeared almost immediately.

boogers_p: “damn, unicorn. that’s real. people are so quick to act like they know what’s best for you, but they don’t live your life. you don’t owe them anything.”

I felt a lump rise in my throat as I stared at P’s message.

unicornpuppy35: “exactly. like… they’ve already made up their minds, and nothing I say matters. but I don’t even know who I’m supposed to be yet. And then when I try to figure it out, they’re just like, ‘No, not like that.’ it’s so exhausting.”

boogers_p: “i get it. they want you to follow their script, but maybe their script sucks. you’re allowed to write your own, even if it takes time.”

My fingers hesitated over the keyboard. I feel the tears running down my cheeks and falling onto the keypad.

unicornpuppy35: “sometimes I feel like I’m never gonna figure it out. like I’ll just keep messing up until everyone gives up on me.”

P didn’t reply right away, and for a moment, I worried I’d said too much. I’m trying my best to wipe the tears that are falling, but they just won’t stop coming.

But then their message popped up

boogers_p: “ listen to me. you’re allowed to take up space, to mess up, to figure things out in your own time. screw what everyone else thinks. you’re not a project they get to fix.”

A shaky breath left my chest, and I swiped at my eyes before more of my tears could fall onto the laptop.

unicornpuppy35: “thanks, P. I mean it. you’re the only one who really listens.”

boogers_p: “anytime you’re stuck with me now, remember?”

I didn’t mind that one bit and for the first time all day, I let myself breathe.

————-

March 21, Minneapolis, Minnesota

I stared at the screen, the cursor blinking against the blank message box. Her words replayed in my mind like a song I couldn’t shake off.

“Nobody listens. Nobody sees me.”

I didn’t know what to say back, not really. Azzi didn’t just sound tired—she sounded done. And it scared me more than I wanted to admit.

My fingers hovered over the keyboard.

“Azzi…”

I typed..wanting to send but no.

I couldn’t. Not yet.

————-

taglist ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

@thaatdigitaldiary @patscorner @ohbueckers @sierrale8ne @mrsarnold @absolutelydreadful @authentic-girl03 @lupinqs @d3arapril @pboogerswbb @imaginespazzi

₊˚ෆ always lmk if u wanna be added to my taglist muah ₊˚ෆ

[rivalsispunk]

Beneath The Surface (Chapter 2 of ongoing series When We’re Alone)

Best friend’s dad!Declan O’Hara, boss!Declan O’Hara x AFAB reader

Series summary: Journalist Declan O’Hara is in need of a personal assistant as his Corinium career skyrockets, and his daughter Taggie has the perfect candidate: her best friend. What seemingly starts as a professional relationship soon snowballs into something both Declan and reader were never expecting and are no longer able to deny.

Warnings: 18+ MDNI, (eventual) smut, cursing, age gap romance (reader is a few years older than Taggie), mention of male appendages (IYKYK), more warnings added per chapter

Word count: 3.6k

Chapter summary: Declan grapples with the risk of hiring you while you grapple with whether or not you're good enough. Once the verdict is in, you both realise you may have jumped in feet first a little too hastily.

A/N: Things are heating up in more ways than one and I am soooo ready for you guys to meet the silently unhinged Declan... Oh, and in this universe, Declan did end up interviewing Margaret Thatcher. Also not entirely proofread so may be some mistakes. Happy reading!

© rivalsispunk please do not steal, copy, or translate any of my work onto other platforms!

Chapter Two: Beneath The Surface

“A promise of secrecy was of course very dutifully given, but it could not be kept without difficulty; for the curiosity excited by his long absence burst forth in such very direct questions on his return as required some ingenuity to evade, and he was at the same time exercising great self-denial, for he was longing to publish his prosperous love.”

You’ve spent the last half hour reading, then rereading, the same page of Pride and Prejudice, your creature-comfort book since you were a young teenager. Normally, you’d be able to recite the passage from memory by now, but your mind has been elsewhere than focussed on the words in front of you. It’s been over a week since your interview with Declan and you’ve heard nothing. Zilch. Nada. For days, your brain has been stuck in a constant loop of questions you’ve no answers for.

Why hasn’t he called? 

Why haven’t you heard anything? 

Did he find someone better?

That last one has been the most burning question of them all, coupled with the memory of Declan’s gravelly voice telling you, I’d be lucky to have ya.

So, why hasn’t he called?

It’s not lost on you that you sound more like a needy girl hanging out for a guy after a date than someone waiting to hear back about a job you weren’t even sure you wanted until the moment you were sat in his office. But you do want it.

The job, that is.

Taggie was none the wiser, too. She’d told you her father had barely given her an inkling of where his head was at, and that he remained suspiciously mum on the outcome of the interviews he’d had in the days succeeding yours. “I think he’s just been busy,” she countered, mentioning that Declan had been on edge in the lead up and preparation for his televised interview with Prime Minister Margaret Thatcher. You were well aware, and knew how much the opportunity meant to him, so you’d made a conscious effort to stay away from The Priory, as not to overwhelm Declan or put any additional pressure on him to make a decision about the assistant position. Instead, you’d met Taggie in town for afternoon tea on the days she wasn’t preparing for an event, or a meal at Bar Sinister when time called for a catch up. But the Thatcher interview was days ago now — a roaring success with both viewers and ratings — and you were getting restless for news.

Slamming your worn out copy of Pride and Prejudice shut, you reach for the phone by your bedside and dial your best friend for what feels like the fiftieth time this week. You’ve called The Priory so often in recent days that she doesn’t even say hello when she answers.

“Still no word yet,” she sighs down the line. “He’s in an awful mood tonight, though. Went straight up to his office when he got home, refused dinner. I think Mummy being away is getting to him.”

You hum in agreement, not that you have any real insight on the matter. “I’m sure he’s fine, Tag. Probably tired of putting up with that Tony Baddingam’s shit. I told you what a right arse he was to your dad when I was there, didn’t you?”

“You did. Honestly, I didn’t think about anyone else at Corinium when I suggested you work for Daddy. It’s one thing for you to be under him, but to be at the beck and call of Lord Baddingham, too?” You practically hear Tag shudder down the line. “Makes me feel ill the way he treats the women who work for him.”

You push aside any runaway thoughts elicited by Taggie’s mention of you under Declan and shrug. “It’s fine, Tag. I’ve dealt with enough Baddinghams in my time to know to tread carefully.” You pull the phone cable taut and pluck it with your finger. “Besides, I don’t think I’ve got the job anyway. I should have heard by now.”

In the room above Taggie, Declan stubs out his cigarette, reclining in his office chair as he listens to his daughter’s voice reverberate through the house. One final plume of smoke emerges from the pile of ashes and butts that have accumulated in the tray over the last twenty-four hours. He ought to be prepping for his next TV interview, a fairly benign chat with a local farmer who has grand plans for the land on the outskirts of the Cotswolds. A piece of cake, he’d told Tony earlier today when he was asked how his preparation was coming. However, he’d flicked through his notes and research God knows how many times this evening, yet couldn’t recall one lick of fact about his upcoming subject. Instead, he’d spent hours — no, days — agonising over whether he should hire you. His producer, Cameron Cook, was breathing down his neck for him to hire someone so he was spread less thin, but it’s not an easy task. On paper, you’re the perfect choice. Hell, in reality, you’re the perfect choice. Still, he prayed that one of the interviewees after you would prove better candidates (and notably male), but no one measured up to you. Sure, they were intelligent. Passionate, somewhat. But then there was you; intelligent and passionate, and looking far too delectable in that bloody skirt that belongs to his fucking wife. Yes, his wife — that’s if she still even wants to be called that — who’s been gone for weeks without as much as a phone call or letter to the house. Their son, Patrick, had mentioned that she’d phoned a couple of weeks ago to inform him she was back in the city, but spared their university-bound child the details of her whereabouts. Declan loves Maud, despite her shortcomings — of which there are many — but he couldn’t help but resent his wife for her absence, and moreover, for the constant dull ache that had been burdening his cock since seeing her skirt on you. He rationalised that if Maud was here, he wouldn’t be up at night thinking obscene thoughts about his daughter’s best friend who had showed up to his office all smiles and curves in his wife’s long-forgotten hand-me-downs. Every time Declan closes his eyes he sees the shallow dimple that adorns your left cheek. He gets random flashbacks of that black lace bra he imagines holds perfect breasts, if he just allows his mind to wander.

He flexes his hand in an attempt to rid it of the itch that’s been daring him to relieve himself ever since you left his Corinium office. There have been countless instances over the last week where he wondered if he just gave in — just a little, just a stroke, something, anything — that the ache will go away. But there’s a bigger part of him that’s afraid that once he starts, he won’t be able to stop, and then how will he ever be able to face you again? Face Taggie again, knowing the pure filth that’s taken him over in the moments when he’s alone?

Cameron had demanded that afternoon that he chooses someone to pick up his slack by the weekend so help her God or she’ll stick him with an intern with more boobs for brains, and he knows ��� he knows — he can’t be stuck with someone with the same level IQ as a stale loaf of bread. He’d combust. So, against his better judgement, he decides as he lights yet another cigarette, that he’ll offer you the job as his assistant.

So help him God.

The phone rang just after half seven as you took your first bite of marmite toast. “Do you want the good news or the best news first?” You wince at Taggie’s chirpiness so early in the morning.

“Umm, best ‘til last,” you option. “Good news first.”

“Well, I’m making shepherd’s pie for dinner and you’re coming over.”

“Alright,” you giggle. “And the other news?”

“We’re celebrating.”

“Celebrating you making shepherd’s pie?”

“No, you nitwit! We’re celebrating you! You got the job! Daddy just told me on his way out this morning.”

Your chair whines against the floorboards of your flat as you shoot to your feet. “I got the job?”

“You got the job!” Taggie shrieks down the line. “Daddy said he was going to phone you when he gets to the office but I couldn’t wait to tell you myself. I know you’ve been anxious waiting to hear back.”

“Oh, Tag, I can’t believe it! I really thought he’d found someone more suited,” you express, cheeks pinching with a grin.

“He said he was very impressed with you,” your friend continues, voice laced with pride. “He also suggested we go shopping for some new officewear.”

“So, he hated my outfit, is what you’re saying.” Him and everybody else at that bloody station.

“No, it’s not that. I think him seeing you in Mummy’s clothes freaked him out a little, is all,” Taggie confesses. “He’s been a bit all over the shop since she’s been gone and I suppose when it comes to her, out of sight, out of mind is best.”

You think back to Declan spluttering his tea everywhere during your interview, and his little explosion afterwards. It makes sense that he doesn’t wanted be reminded of the woman who stepped out on him. You were just glad his reaction wasn’t to something you had done.

You and Taggie chat for a few minutes more about potential shopping destinations and your plans for the day before she rushes through a goodbye, eager to get to the market to pick up groceries for your celebratory meal. An hour later, Declan calls.

“Morning, it’s Declan,” he says, words stifled by the cigarette between his lips. “Declan O’Hara.”

You bite down a smile at the unnecessary clarification. You do the same to thwart your enthusiasm at finally receiving his call. “Hiya. It’s nice to hear from you. How’re you this morning, Declan?”

“Yeah, good, good. Tony’s riding my arse as per usual but other than that, good.” Silence reigns as you wait for Declan to relay the good news. After a moment, he clears his throat like he just remembered you’re on the other end of the line. “Look, I don’t have long, but I wanted to give you a bell to let you know the assistant job is yours. If you want it.”

Although you were already aware of the job offer, you do a happy jig in your kitchen. “Yes, thank you! Of course, I accept.”

“Great. Does Monday work as a start date?”

��Absolutely. I’ll be there. Thank you, Declan.”

“Welcome. Chat soon.”

The line goes dead not second later, and while you’re still overcome with excitement about the new job, your chat with your new boss seemed off. Declan seemed off. Far removed from the chatty, friendly man you sat across from at Corinium just days ago. But like he said, Tony was on his back. He’s probably just… tense.

It becomes clear to Declan as he watches you and Taggie move seamlessly around the kitchen while clearing up after dinner that you’re effervescent. Far more than he’s ever noticed, in all the times you’ve visited his daughter over the recent months, and it bothers him. He hated how his pulse quickened at the sight of you on his doorstep two hours earlier, David Bowie T-shirt peeking out from beneath your checkered coat. If you were at least the tiniest bit irksome or slow-witted or just plain dull, he’d be able to reckon with the fact that his reaction to you was purely chemical. Just another man taken by a young woman’s good looks. But then again, if he found you any of those things, he wouldn’t dare allow you anywhere near his work, near his research. Nor would he be impressed with his daughter adopting a friend as such, either. 

Your laughter trills, egged on by the celebratory champagne Taggie had provided, and Declan catches the tailend of his daughter flinging a handful of dishsoap suds in your direction. You were a good girl, a good friend, being there for Taggie in the last few months. Always willing to lend a hand, or an ear, certainly a shoulder to cry on more than Declan liked to think about or admit. But you were just that: a girl. A girl who was now his assistant. He’ll be damned if he were to become another man at Corinium taking advantage of that power imbalance, which is why he replaces his glass of bubbles with a whiskey and retires to his office after supper, pressing a kiss to his daughter’s forehead as he goes.

You decide to sleepover at The Priory after consuming a few too many glasses of champagne for it be considered safe to drive home. Although, sleepover may be too generous of a word because you’ve barely slept a wink since sinking into bed beside Taggie over an hour ago. Your friend, however, had no trouble drifting off, only to start snoring so loudly the whole bed vibrates. You’ve already tried covering your head with a pillow and the counting backwards from one hundred trick to coax yourself to sleep, but it’s no use. You slide out from under the poppy-printed covers and tip-toe downstairs in a sweater hanging on the back of Taggie’s bedroom door. You’re swimming in the woollen brown garment. It falls to mid-thigh and is sleeves are at least half an arm-length too long, but it keeps the chill at bay when you swing open The Priory’s back door. You slide on a pair of Wellington boots that sit on the doormat and step out into the biting air. In it, the inches of skin between the hem of the sweater and your long socks prickle with goosebumps, and your breath forms a fog under the soft glow of fairy lights leftover from a garden party the O’Hara’s hosted in the summer. Somewhere in the distance, a owl twoos and foxes rustle through shrubbery. When you lived in the city, the nights were overrun with sirens and drunken hooligans singing football chants down the alleyways and other racket that made it very difficult to hear yourself think. Meanwhile, out here, in the countryside, you could just be.

“Nice sweater.”

“Fuck!” The sudden verbiage shocks your shoulders to your ears. There’s no mistaking that voice, yet you have to scan the area to see where the Irish lilt is stemming from. It’s not until you hear the swish of water that you realise he’s in the hot tub that’s tucked away from the courtyard, his silhouette barely visible against the night. “Declan. You gave me a fright.”

“Sorry,” he croaks. “Can’t sleep?”

You shake your head. “Taggie’s snoring like a freight train.”

As your eyes adjust to the dark, you just catch Declan’s moustache quirk with a lazy smile. “Just like her mother.”

The comment coaxes you closer to the tub, waiting for Declan to elaborate, but whatever story he might’ve spieled evaporates with the steam from the water. The heated pool was just another of Maud’s extravagant buys, and Declan hated the addition when it showed up in a delivery van, during summer, of all seasons, because he knew it would be forgotten about in a matter of days once she’d found something new to obsess over. There was always something with Maud. If it wasn’t an extravagant purchase to distract herself with, it was a lover, and if it wasn’t a lover, it was a trip far, far away from the Cotswolds. Her recent truancy being case in point.

There’s hardly any light in this corner of the yard, aside from a small golden glimmer beneath the hot tub surface, but it’s enough for you to take in Declan’s form. He’s lax, whiskey in hand, with his head reclined against the lip of the pool. You notice the thick smattering of chest hair across the breadth of his torso, dark and unruly. The few men you’ve ever been with have been around your age, either trimmed or unable to grow body hair where its desired. But then again, they were just boys in the scheme of things. Declan has always been so fucking manly. His already dark hair black with water, pushed away from his face like he’s slicked it back with his hands. It hasn’t stopped miniscule curls frizzing to fruition at his temples. Declan takes a sip of the amber liquid in his glass.

“If I’m being honest, I thought you’d be a tad more excited when I spoke to you this morning.” The subject change surprises you.

“Oh, trust me, I was! But–“

“But Taggie had already broken the news to you by then, hadn’t she?”

You look down at your feet, not wanting to give your friend away, but Declan knows his daughter has a hard time keeping a lid on her excitement. “It’s alright,” he chuckles. “She means well.”

“She’s a good friend. They’re hard to come by.”

You’re telling me, Declan thinks, taking a one-handed inventory of his own close companions.

The frosty air hugs you and your toes seize under its bite, even through your socks and boots. “Do you mind?” You point to the hot tub. It takes a moment for it to click in Declan’s brain that you’re asking if you can join him. It would be rude for him to say no. Stupid for him to say yes. Instead, he gives a non-commital shrug and whispers Lord, help me into his glass. Over its rim, he watches you perch on the edge of the tub to while you toe off your wellies. They land with a thud on the pavement and you giggle to yourself, oops, when one ricochets into a nearby shrub. Muscles zip up the back of your leg when you peel off your socks, and Declan has to force himself to look away when the hem of your sweater — no, his sweater, one of many Taggie had stolen away — rides dangerously high on your thighs as you swing your legs over the lip of the heated pool. He’s thankful that only one of the lights below the surface is in working order because his prick rouses when a satisfied hum seeps from you as your feet kiss the warm surface. Declan’s jaw ticks. The devil on his shoulder probes that you’re purposely torturing him and his conscious bites back that he’s a sleazy bastard for thinking as much. You’re not doing anything. You’re just here.

Get a grip on yourself, O’Hara, he scolds, and chases it with a swig of whiskey he only hopes will burn away the filthy thoughts you manage to conjure for him.

“You got another one of them?” When he faces you again, you’re pointing at the glass that’s fogged up in his sweaty palm.

“The champagne not enough for ya?”

You roll your eyes. “If you don’t want to share, just say so.”

“You can’t handle this.”

“Are you really going to sit there and tell a girl what she can and can’t handle?” you press, eyes locked in on his. “You’d be surprised what I can handle, Declan.” You don’t mean for it to sound so provocative, but challenging him has set your whole body ablaze. For good measure, you quirk an eyebrow at Declan, and the subtle move has his cock doing the same in the confines of his striped swim shorts. Without another word, Declan floats across the hot tub to where you’re seated and presses his glass into your hand. You offer a thank you in the form of a gentle smile before pressing your full, blush lips to the rim. Tilting the glass to the sky, you can feel Declan’s heavy gaze on you, watching. Waiting. You allow your eyes to fall shut as the bitter prickle of the whiskey waves over your tongue, so you don’t see him slide a hand to the back of his neck. His nails dig crecsents into the skin there, both as punishment for and distraction from the fact his mind is trekking to dark places where your lips are pressed somewhere far more sinister. He can’t keep his eyes off you while you drain what’s left of the whiskey, your eyes fluttering open when you realise there’s nothing left.

“I told you I could handle it,” you tell Declan, ignoring the slight burn that stings at the back of your throat. You both reach your hand into the small space between you, fingers grazing as you pass the glass back to Declan. 

The air between the two of you is charged. You wouldn’t be surprised if someone lit a match and the whole world went up in flames taking the pair of you with it. That same pained look that took Declan’s expression over during your interview rears its head again. Before you get the opportunity to put a name to it, a door creaks in the distance and your name echoes into the night.

“Are you out there?”

Taggie.

Taggie.

There’s a flurry of movement as Declan slides to the opposite side of the hot tub again and you all but catapult yourself onto the pavement as if you’d been caught redhanded. Doing what, you weren’t entirely sure, but you were certain it wasn’t a good look. You yank your socks over your damp feet, followed by the wellies and make a start for where the kitchen light illuminates your friend in the doorway.

“There you are!” she sighs, almost relieved, when you meet her at the step. “You alright? I thought you might’ve driven home after all.” “God, no. I’m fine! Just…” you glance over your shoulder to where the blaze of a cigarette burns in the darkness. “Just getting some air.”

Loved writing this chapter, and things are just getting started!! Reblog, share, comment: it all means the world to me!! <3

Previous chapters: Chapter 1: The Interview

[grlsinterrupted]

i hope your requests are open again but if not im so sorry!! but i was wondering if u could do a dallas winston x fem!reader where reader is having problems at home (her parents being shitty yk?) and she is just having a really bad day and shes on the verge of a break down but then dallas calls and says he needs bail but she cant bring herself to be angry or else she’ll finally break so she just agrees and goes to get him but he senses somethings wrong and tries to get her to talk to him and basically just a really really really soft dallas

sorry if thats too much😭❤️

but tysm i luv ur work🫶🏼

love is a gentle thing, your’s is thicker than a velvet ring ࿔*:･ﾟ

you’ve reached your breaking point | dallas winston x fem ! reader ⊹ ࣪ ˖

-

it’s insane how much a piece of paper dictates what you can do, what you can’t do, who you can talk to— your entire life, really. though it holds no monetary value, your report card has always seemed to define your self worth, and better yet, served as a constant reminder that you’ll never truly satisfy your parents. no matter how many hours you spent slaving away on your assignments, fighting back the urge to fall asleep right on your desk, your dedication will never be enough.

a thick silence fills the room, the only sound coming from the faint chirping of crickets and the rhythm of your rugged breathing. you’re seated on the corner of your bed, your hands shaking as you grapple onto the edges of your report card. the paper is crinkled, stained with tears and remnants of your mascara smeared across the letter ‘b+.’ the memory of your mother lecturing you about your grades replays in your head like a song you want to unhear. one single letter was enough to spiral you into a loop of madness. suddenly, the silence is broken by a ringing phone. you flinch, reaching over your nightstand to answer it.

you clear your throat, sniffling. “hello?”

a familiar voice huffs out a chuckle behind the phone. it didn’t take you long to realize that this accented tone belonged to none other than your boyfriend, dallas. “hey, doll. y’know how the fuzz are, they’ve been on my ass all week.”

“dal? are you seriously calling me from jail?” your voice is shaky as you bite back your tears, the report card’s weight heavy on your lap. despite how desperately you needed to cry, right now wasn’t the time. you’ve gathered all the composure remaining in you to deal with dallas’ reckless behavior.

“listen, i’m g’na need a couple bucks for bail. you’d do that for me, wouldn’t ya?”

all you can do is sigh. of course he’d called you for bail. even though you wanted to blow up at him over the phone and tell him to pay for his own bail, you couldn’t bring yourself to be angry at him. you were just as troubled as he was, if not, worse— the only difference being that you prioritized your future more than he ever would.

“sure, whatever. i’ll just- i’ll drive there right now. don’t do anything while i’m gone.”

dallas grazes his bloody knuckles against his a bruise on his cheekbone, wincing. somehow, he’d gotten into a fight with a soc while he was walking to buck’s place. granted that you’ve been silent the entire time, he could sense something was wrong with you— the way your eyes have lost that little sparkle in them, the way your head tilted downwards as the two of you walked out of the police station, and most of all, the fact that you didn’t even hug him once he was released.

despite the amount of times dallas has tried to reisist your post-jail hugs, they’re all he looks forward to while he’s stuck in his cell. your hugs blanket him with a sense of security— the kind of security he’s never had. without that subtle gesture, he felt as though a part of him was missing.

“you’ve been awfully quiet.” dallas mutters under his breath, looking down at you.

you shrug, shaking your head. “i never noticed.”

“yeah, but ya know what i notice?” he pockets his hands. “sum’s wrong with ya.”

you can feel your throat begin to close up as you reply. “nothing’s wrong, dal,” your voice begins to tremble as you tell yourself, do not cry in front of your boyfriend. “let’s just go home, now. i’m tired.”

“are ya mad at me for getting into a fight?” he raises a brow, nudging you with his shoulder. “‘cause if you are, he came onto me first.”

something in you snaps, emotions overflowing like a dam bursting. the stray tear that you’ve been fighting to hold back runs down your cheek. you’ve finally reached your limit. “i’m not mad at you for that! well- i am, but i’m just.. i’m stressed, okay?! everyone is stressing me out!”

dallas goes silent for a second, just watching you shatter in front of him. once he replies, his voice immediately softens. “y’know you can talk to me about anythin’, right?”

you gulp, wiping away the tear as you nod.

dallas runs a hand through his hair, biting the inside of his lip almost as if he’s hesitant to say something. he then begins to speak up.

“you forgot somethin’.”

he pulls you into a warm embrace, brushing his fingers through the strands of your hair as you cry into his arms. this time, the hug is offering you that sense of security that dallas yearns for. you’re finally safe in his arms, safe from all of the expectations set on you.

‘love is a gentle thing, your’s is thicker than a velvet ring ..’ .ᐟ ₊˚⊹♡

-

[drdtblingsceo]

WHIT TIME LOOP THEORY – EXPLAINED

Veronikas rambling about the book is during her intro and the text on white background is a hidden text on DRDT tumblr page..

1. FOREVER DEAD

The hidden text and Forever Dead are really similar, I highlighted the parts that re connected / similar

Frist, the protagonist of Forever Dead is a boy, so saying this could also be about Veronika ( there are mentions about " boredom " and Veronika is the one telling Teruko and Xander about the book in the frist place ) doesnt make sense;

Whits secret quote is " We tend to idolize dead ", and both the book and Wsq is related to death. ( Its obv possible that the quote is about his mother but its not directly stated, and ofc even if it is, it doesnt have to be ONLY abt his mom )

2. WHITS INTUITION

Its highlighted so far 3 times in DRDT ( and definitely will be more ), and yea thats suspicious. What if Whits intuiton is infact not that amazing that he can even predict things ( one example: the " Do you really think shed be HANGING out in a playground rn ? ", and yea it could be just a joke put there by DRDTdev BUT !!! or when he said that his intuiton is telling him that him and Charles will become good friends someday ), but he just knows what will happen and how the situations will play out because hes been throught them before for MANY times

3. 4TH WALL

Whit broke the 4th wall few times, directly talking to US - the viewers, or doing things benefiting us, even if it doesnt make sense in his place. For example: when SHOWING the characters special weapons list and then talking directly to the audience, or when in early-mid (chapter 2 episode 10) trial asked what is Edens secret because "he forgot" and Ace said that he didnt had to ask because he can just simply look up at the monitor where are all the secret displayed, its like Whit did it so WE can get reminded which secret are already revealed and belong to who.

4. FORESHADOWING

Also Whit foreshadowed things too, for example AGAIN the Arei hanging out at playground scene

( small theory, that can later on be evidence for this theory too: in prologue, during Charles intro, he joked about Charles being " pronounced dead at 3 ", so if Charles will die in 3rd chapter or in any chapter during 3 AM / PM, it will be a HUGE evidence for this theory )

5. " BACK ON THE RIGHT TRACK "

There were situations where Whit brought DRDT " back on the right track " or made the kg more interesting, like when he protected / revealed Charles hemophobia during trial 1, because he knew that if everyone voted Charles as the culprit the kg would end ( and cmon TV show ending so quickly would be no fun !!!.. Also why would he start the time loop again so early on ??? )

Or when he didnt helped during the chapter 2 episode 4 fight, or when he didnt revealed Davids secret until he was literally forced too

6. POSSIBILITIES

1. He is the mastermind and wants to entertain the audience as much as he can, and since he knows what will happen anyways, he can direct what situations he will let play out and what not, so it wont he boring for us

2. Hes not the mastermind but he is stuck in the time loop so he wants to entertain himself as much as he can, in the hidden text on tumblr page there is mention of constant boredom, so naturally he wants to entertain himself as much as he possibly can to not feel it

He, of course, can be the mm and want to entertain himself too, or not be the mm but he will atleast make it that way so we wont be as bored as he is now - he will make the TV show entertaining

7. WHITS PERSONALITY

If Whit was put throught so many loops or stuck in this kg for " eternity " wouldnt he act cold or emotionless, or atleast not how he acts now ??? Yea maybe, but think about it, if he was a bitch, distant, cold or mean to everyone – no one would like him, or if he took it to extreme people would avoid him even ( MAYBE minus Veronika but im sure he would get pretty fed up with her after a while ), and the consequences of people ignoring / avoiding him ??? More boredom... which he already is REALLY bored so why would he make it even worse for himself ??

8. " KILL TERUKO TAWAKI "

I think its pretty clear ( or atleast very possible ) that the one who wrote the " kill Teruko Tawaki " note is the mastermind

The note looks like its written in a specific type of blue pen which we didnt see in the series yet, and you know who special pen/s which no one in the cast would find / have ( minus Min ) ??? – Whit !!! His special weapon is stationary, which is known as writing and other office materials ( including pens duh ). But Charles would call Whit out since he knows Whits handwriting and saw the ktt note ??? Yea no.. Charles canonicaly doesnt remember much from frist trial, so I rlly doubt that he remembers how ( handwriting ) the note looked like. It couldnt be Whit who wrote the note cuz he canonicaly dots his i / js with hearts !! But is it that hard to not do that while writing something you dont want anyone to know that you wrote it.. and honestly i think anyone in his position and who wantes to push the kg further, they would atleast slightly change their handwriting.. Whit really isnt dumb

9. WHITS REACTION TO DEATHS/ EXTREME SITUATIONS

After Mins execution, everyone was disturbed or shocked, even VERONIKA, but Whits reaction was " jeez, thats terrible ",, he didnt had disturbed or shocked sprite either, he even joked about her execution later on in the series

Or his reaction to Areis death, it was another emotionless " oops, thats not good :P ", and as far as we know Whit and Arei were atleast kinda friends

Plus his reaction to Terukos soon execution, and Levi bleeding out on the floor from several shot wounds

His ass did NOT cared, he only wanted to make sure Charles is alright, thats suspicious. Wouldnt he be atleast little worried for Teruko ( which he considers a friend ) and then Levi ????

Unless he knows that they will survive this, because he saw it happen before or hes just desensitized from having to watch his classmates / friends die over and over and over and over

10. DAVIDS MV

During Davids MV, during the part where we saw youtube comments, there were comments about antagonist and mastermind, the oldest being from 10 years ago and newest from 1 second ago. That could suggest that noting really changes, like in a time loop, unless SOMEONE aware does something diffrently

11. COLORS..?

This is a strech but id still like to mention it, Whits least fav color is gray because its " boring "

Also MonoTV said that its favorite colors are blue ( Whits eyes ) and yellow ( Whits hair, theyre blonde but blonde is still a shade of yellow )

12. THE WHIT SPRITE

During the frist not sane Whit sprite scene in chapter 2 episode 16, Whit REALLY looks like hes hiding something behind his back

I think if hes the mastermind he has his own remote to activate traps etc. and hes the one who locked the elevator or he tried to open it with his remote and for some reason he couldnt so thats why we got this sprite

And if hes not the mastermind i think he took something out of broken MonoTV / something that fell out of MonoTV when Ace punched it, when cast was distracted with Levi and was just stressed that someone saw him do it or allat didnt happened in previous loops so it took him off guard

[wandering-pirate]

Headcanons on each of the crew members' music taste

(cause I've got nothing else to do during vacation, ig)

Capt. Curly

The Captain and his Wham!, A-ha and Westlife obsessions

Rooted from his childhood and teenage years idolizing his older brothers (and also him being a hopeless romantic)

Still not December nor winter, but has Last Christmas on a constant loop

Was forced to have earbuds on the Tulpar due to Jimmy's I-can't-take-all-those-lovey-dovey-lyrics, are-those-even-real-songs complaints

Definitely knows all the lyrics of his favorite bands' songs (he insists that a true fan must not only know the top hits, but also the more obscure songs... whatever he means by that)

Mechanic Swansea

You ain't gonna deny this gruff man's love for country songs

Definitely a fan of ACDC and Guns 'n Roses back in 'his golden days'

The older he got, the more he appreciated the Carpenters and Air Supply. Secretly memorized half of the bands' top hits.

Always playing slow country songs after their dinner date with his wife and slowdancing her (yeah, he a gentleman like that, unlike others *side eyeing u Jimboy*)

Co-pilot Jimmy

The type to always play Metallica, KISS, and Nirvana on speakers at max volume to cover up his one true music taste: emo--

Secretly has a playlist of My Chemical Romance and Backstreet Boys... and dozens of albums

Curly once heard Jimmy singing I Want it That Way in the showers. Ended with constant denial from the latter

"Come on Jimmy, there's nothing ba--"

"IT'S POPULAR ALRIGHT!? WAS JUST STUCK TO MY HEAD!"

"Tell me why! Ain't not--"

"DAISUKE, GET THE FU--"

Intern Daisuke

When I say Pop music, I mean it

Whatever's trending and whoever the artist is, leave it up to him to make the crew suffer

"APT, APT~ APT, APT~ AP--"

"ONE MORE OF THAT ALIEN WORDS OF YOURS, BOY!"

Definitely suffers from last song syndrome

Definitely responsible for the Tulpar being full of 'No singing the same line for more than three times' signs

Introduced Anya to Japanese City pop songs, took pride after she loved them

Nurse Anya

Baby girl's got solid music taste

You can tell her current mood with whatever she's currently listening

Loves 70s and 80s soft rock bands, like the Beatles and Eagles, all by her uncle and dad's addiction to them

Influenced Daisuke's love for Queen, definitely contributed to his severe LSD of 'We Will Rock You and Don't Stop Me Now'

Hid from a raging Swansea for a week after that

Also listens to Aurora, Laufey and Imogen Heap whenever she wants an earbreak from a full-on band (told you. SOLID TASTE.)

Always switching between the two ends of the spectrum. No in-betweens

[sturnmeovr]

♡‧₊˚ February Au Special

ఇ 'Let Us Happen' | 02/03 | Blurb | Angst | Fluff | {neighbor!Matt x brat!Reader} | Brat has always been known to hide behind her tough exterior, Matt is the only person who can break her out of her shell. Being stuck in a constant loop of Matt breaking down her walls just for her build them back up as soon as he says or does the wrong thing, it has Matt overwhelmed and ready to crumble under pressure.

ఇ 'Be my Valentine, mommy?’ | TBD | Blurb | Fluff {babydaddy!Chris x sweetheart!Reader} | A look into the future; Chris helps their son, Bear, make a Valentines present for Sweetheart.

ఇ 'Be Mine?' | TBD | Fic | Fluff | Smut | {neighbor!Matt x brat!Reader} | Matt and Brat spend the night making their own heart shaped pizzas and watching chick flicks together. When Matt asks her to be his valentine thru the pepperoni cuttings he decorates on his pizza, Brat is in awe and quickly calls for a food fight, making things a bit steamy.

ఇ 'Take Me Back' | TBD | Fic | Smut | Angst | {babydaddy!Chris x sweetheart!Reader} | Secretly, they both missed each other but were too stubborn to admit it. Sweetheart knew Chris wasn't good for her, Chris did too - he was just too stuck in his ways to admit it. When Valentines Day rolls around, she ignores Chris all day unless it's about their son. When Chris starts to overthink her lack of communication on a special day like this, he winds up at her doorstep.

ఇ 'Cat Daddy' | TBD | Blurb | Fluff | {neighbor!Matt x brat!Reader} | After a long weekend of watching friends reruns and eating junk food together, Matt declares his love for Brats cat, Wendy. He promises to love her as his own and become the best cat daddy in NYC.

ఇ 'Locked In' | TBD | Blurb | Fluff | {babydaddy!Chris x sweetheart!Reader} | Chris lets his intrusive thoughts, getting Sweethearts named tattooed in an attempt to win her back.

ఇ Neighbor!Matt Bot | TBD | {neighbor!Matt x brat!Reader} | Based off of the relationship Matt and Brat share; a constant cycle of Matt getting Brat to break her walls, opening up to him fully, only for her to build them back up, brick by brick, as soon as he does or says.

ఇ Babydaddy!Chris Bot | TBD | {babydaddy!Chris x sweetheart!Reader} | Based off of Chris and Sweethearts relationship; as guilty as he feels for cheating on her when she was nearly 7 months pregnant with his son, Chris loves the chase, and he’d do whatever it takes to win Sweetheart back. He just wants his family back together.

♡‧₊˚ Cheys Note -I wanted to surprise you guys with a little special since I recently hit 800 followers which is so surreal so me cause I was just thanking you guys for 600 a few posts ago 🥰🫶🏻 I'm so grateful for every single one of you, I can’t even put it into words! 🥹 I'm still figuring out all the dates, but I will be updating soon! Still working on the bots, they'll be my first so go easy on me lol. I’m actually looking for not tester so if anyone is interested pls lmk know!! And don't worry, I'll still be posting outside of my February Special. Send me feedback or ideas?! I would love to add to this and I'm open to suggestions! <3

© sturnmeovr - Please do not copy my work.

[only-lonely-star]

Could you write a fic where the reader is Pony's friend, had been for a while but Pony doesn't really bring her up because he doesn't want the guys to tease him even though they really are just friends. Her home life is getting rough so Pony gave her his address and told her to crash with them if it ever gets to be too much. She ends up going one night and climbs in through Pony's window (she had gone with him to pick up tge book she wanted to borrow one day after school) and climbs into his bed not realizing him and Soda share a bed. Her and Pony are pretty happy cuddling eachother so she thinks nothing of it but it ends up being Soda and not Pony?

Lots of detail sorry lol just love your work and would love to see this come to life!

୨୧ ⁠♡ Night to Remember ⁠♡ ୨୧

~ Ponyboy Curtis, Sodapop Curtis ~

Warnings - This is somewhat sad in the beginning and how I worded a few things makes the situation for the reader sad. It’s nothing too bad, only minor arguing and yelling. Neglectful and abusive parents. Besides that, this story is sort of a funny one in a way. I decided it’s best to classify it as ‘fluff with a side of angst’ 😭

Summary - Escaping your toxic household to the Curtis’s house with…a twist?

Author’s Note - I GASPED when I first read this request, thank you so much for submitting!! I’m so glad you like my writings. I hope I wrote it well! Enjoy 🫶🏼

Word Count - 1.9k.

••●••••●••••●••••●••••●••••●••••●••••●••••●••

Walking up the steps to your small house on the hill, you could already hear the distant screams from your parents. They constantly argued only to make up the next day and argue all over again by nightfall. It was an endless loop you seemed to be stuck in - wishing you were anywhere else but home. The walk home was always fun, up until Ponyboy turned the corner and left you to finish the walk on your lonesome. Strolling down the street as the sun slowly set on a cold fall evening calmed you.

Unlocking the door with the spare key, you saw a broken glass bottle smashed along the cracked wooden flooring. Your parent’s constant hollering seemed to worsen as you stepped foot inside.

“Go! Just get out - take your daughter with you!” Your mother hollered to your old man who seemed utterly fed up with her. You looked between them with fear in your eyes, confused as to what you had done to be put into this mess.

“I just got home, what are you on about?” Your voice came out, thicker and more bitter sounding than you had expected. Your mother’s cold eyes aligned with yours, an uncomfortable amount of emotions flooding over you.

“I said get out!” she yelled louder than before, clearly displeased with your presence, “You don’t do a damn thing to live here! You don’t pay a single bill or work a job - all you do is hang out with those hoodlums!”

Your mind darted to thoughts of your good friend, Ponyboy. His words echoed in your mind, tuning out your own mother’s as she continued to holler.

”Come whenever you need to, okay? If it ever gets too hard on you back at your place…you’re welcome at mine…”

You brushed past your father’s tense shoulder, not caring to argue further. It calmed you to know you had a safe haven to escape to on nights like this. Ponyboy would be warm and welcoming just like a family should.

Drowning out the shouting that continued on, you began the trek to the Curtis’ home - book bag and all. Striding down the sidewalk, you slipped your hand into the side pocket of your tattered backpack. A crinkled piece of paper was retrieved; Ponyboy’s address was scribbled on it in blue ink. You’d never been there, but you knew him well enough to have heard about his own family issues. The loss of his parents which left him and his two older brothers to fend for themselves seemed scary. It made you feel a sense of gratitude to still have parents even if they were horrible to you.

The sun seemed to have set, stranding you amid the crisp air and the occasional streetlight ahead. Only a bit further and you’d be there. Convincing yourself you’d have a better stay at Ponyboy’s home was very comforting. You could both catch up on some reading or maybe even smoke a bit if he’d lend you a cigarette. Before you knew it, there you were. The same scribbled address on the paper matched the street and house number you had walked to.

Taking a deep breath, you approached the front door with a pit in your stomach. It seemed quiet; too quiet. Backing away from it, your anxiety had gotten the best of you.

”I’ll just use the window,” is what you said to yourself, kicking away small twigs and leaves to pry it open. You slid the window up, slipping yourself through the crack you managed to open.

The room was dark, a limp body lying underneath the olive-colored comforter. You smiled fondly. Ponyboy was already asleep - a strange sight to see since it was still a bit too early to wind down for the night. You let out a small sigh of victory knowing you could finally relax in a much quieter space than your parent's home. You carefully slipped the straps of your backpack off, mindful to not wake Ponyboy.

“Close that damn door,” he murmured, his voice raspy and sleepy. You instantly felt a pang of guilt for waking him. You set your bag down beside the small wooden desk that was pushed beside the bed. With a swift movement, you shut the window from the inside.

Ponyboy lay in a white oversized t-shirt, his back facing you as he curled himself up into a ball underneath the bedding. You glanced around the bedroom before joining him in bed. You kicked your shoes off, spreading open the sheets and comforter.

“How was school?” the voice spoke in a drowsy state. You decided to not ramble on and let him rest. Besides- you were the guest here.

“It was nice,” you replied softly. You were starting to feel sleepy as well, all of that walking surely paid off. Snuggling underneath the bedding, you felt him shove some of the sheets your way to cut you a bit of slack.

“You cold?” he asks, his head slowly turning to glance at you. Your back was facing his, the only source of light being the pale moonlight seeping through the window. You mustered a small head nod.

The warm touch of his arm suddenly draped over your waist was unexpected but welcomed nonetheless. He nuzzled the tip of his nose to rest against your spine, exhaling with a soft chuckle. “You smell like a little girl or something,” he teased light-heartedly.

You let out a forced laugh, not totally understanding the punchline to his little joke there. His voice was awfully deep; something you didn’t remember Ponyboy’s voice to sound like. He sounded like he had more of a southern drawl now as well. Hell- your voice became naturally deep when you were sluggish but nothing like Ponyboy’s sudden change.

Your eyes fluttered shut, the gentle hug from behind causing a wave of sleepiness to wash over you. Your breathing slowed, signaling you felt at ease for once. It was a nice contrast to the nagging hollers from your parents- that was for sure. Ponyboy seemed to relax further, a deep sigh being released from his lips. He nuzzled his face closer, “Pony, did you ever take out that trash?”

You froze, lifting your head in utter confusion. You glanced down to find a random man you’d never seen a day in your life. Panicked - you let out a scream and scrambled off the bed, falling to your ass on the cold wooden floor, taking the sheets with you.

The scream startled the stranger as well, sitting straight up in the bed - what was left of the bedding covering his lower half. “Who the hell are you?!”

Your eyes flung open, standing from the floor in a swift second. You stammered over your own words for a moment, trying to get them out. “Where’s Ponyboy?!”

He glanced at you and then to the open door where both Ponyboy and his eldest brother stood, shock etched on their faces. Your immediate shock subsided once you reestablished that this was in fact the correct house, and you’d perhaps slipped into the wrong bedroom.

Ponyboy pushed past his other brother, muttering a slur of words under his breath. “Oh no…no, no, no…”

His siblings exchanged confused glances, the oldest on the brink of a migraine. He pinched the bridge of his nose tightly. Ponyboy stood beside you, dragging your arm and ushering you by the window for a bit of space. He could see the messy attempt you’d made in trying to shut the window and locking it back up firmly. “Damn it, why didn’t you knock on the door?” he questions, glancing behind him to see the boy in the bed rushing to slip on a decent pair of pants.

Your eyes were staring into his with a look of guilt and confusion. “I’m sorry, I didn’t know this wasn’t your bedroom!”

You flung your arms in the air, innocence in your expression clear as day. Ponyboy sighed and rubbed his temple using his middle and index finger, adding pressure to the spot. His lips curled into a soft smile, the laugh echoing in the room. “I share a room with Sodapop over there,” he cracked up at the lack of information he’d given you, resulting in this whole encounter.

Sodapop’s eyes met yours, a rather apologetic and embarrassed look sewn onto his face although a bit of a grin was visible. With this newfound information, you quickly put the pieces together and realized the other brother was Darrel. You let out a deep exhale, your own giggle slipping out.

“I am so sorry…” you began, your flushed cheeks and smile being quickly covered by your hand, “Pony, I blame you for not telling me!”

You swatted his arm before placing both hands over your mouth, the embarrassment lingering. Both Sodapop and Darrel couldn’t help but chuckle - this big mishap was too hilarious to just brush off. Sodapop stood from the bed and ran a hand through his greasy combed combed-back hair before approaching the two of you.

“Pony, why didn’t you tell me you were at that age you start bringin’ girls home?” he teased, wrapping his arm around Ponyboy’s neck from behind and giving him a good noogie to mess up his hair. Ponyboy giggled, attempting to pry Sodapop’s arm off and away. Darrel stood at the doorway, nearly about to throw a fit at the mention of it.

“We’re friends, I told her she could come over when her folks got into fighting and stuff again,” he explained, trying to save the friendship from becoming awkward at his brother’s teasing.

Sodapop’s eyes had a slight shift in expression, but he reached a hand out to you nonetheless. He smiled warmly and looked down at you. “Soda,” he introduced himself so friendly to you that you nearly forgot how you screamed at the first sight of him.

You returned the smile with one of your own and shook his hand firmly. He spoke up again, nudging Ponyboy with a laugh. “Ponyboy’s got the voice of a girl - I was convinced that was you talkin’ to me!”

Ponyboy retaliated, shooting a glare at him. Before he could say much more, Darrel stepped closer and held his hand out to me as well. The introduction went smoothly, his hand was quite large but perfect for firm handshakes. “I’m Darrel…Darry.”

For once you felt welcomed inside of a home. You felt an immense amount of gratitude for Ponyboy and his cordial brothers who didn’t seem to mind your company at all.

Darrel stepped aside and motioned to you for the door, gently pushing Ponyboy’s shoulder to follow. “Ponyboy, get her familiar with the couch if she’s stayin’!”

He did as told and picked up your backpack to carry towards the living room. He sat you down as Sodapop’s charming laughter echoed down the hallway.

“Next time just knock, okay? Better yet, come right in. The door is never locked,” Ponyboy instructed with a small head shake following that up with a giggle, “You’re welcome anytime.”

You grinned from ear to ear at the strangely new feeling of belonging. Welcome anytime? Was this a dream?

Before you knew it, you had your arms around Ponyboy’s neck, trapping him in a tight hug to show how thankful you truly were. It was safe to say this was a night you’d never forget.

[sexsylexi]

𝅘𝅥𝅯I love you so...

Wally West x reader

The room was dimly lit, the soft hum of the air conditioner the only sound filling the space, but inside your head, it was deafening. The words of "I Love You So" by The Walters echoed, looping endlessly in your mind. The song played like the soundtrack to the complicated feelings swirling inside you. You couldn't escape it.

I just need someone in my life to give it structure...

That line had stuck with you, pressing heavy against your chest. That was Wally West to you—your structure, your constant in a world that always seemed to be spinning too fast. From the moment you had met him, with his easy grin and that boundless energy, you had known. He had swept into your life like a whirlwind, and it had felt so effortless to fall for him. He was everything you wanted. He was the one that made your heart race, made you feel safe and alive in ways no one else could.

But lately, there had been cracks. Little things you had brushed off at first, but now they lingered in the back of your mind, gnawing away at the certainty you'd once held. The way Wally’s eyes lingered just a little too long on Artemis after missions. How his smile seemed different when it was directed at her, warmer, softer in a way that made your stomach twist. The worst part was the way his touches, once meant for you alone, would sometimes brush against Artemis in ways that felt more than friendly. Just enough to make you wonder if maybe—just maybe—you weren’t the only one on his mind.

But is that Wally’s touch? Or am I overthinking this? The thought made your skin crawl, but you couldn’t shake it.

You stood in the shadows of the training room now, leaning against the cool wall, watching him and Artemis from a distance. They had just wrapped up another mission. It had been a grueling one, and while you were still catching your breath, Wally seemed perfectly at ease. He was laughing, wiping sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand. Artemis was laughing too, her hair tousled from the fight, and she looked at him in a way that made your heart sink.

They stood closer than they needed to, their conversation flowing effortlessly, as if the exhaustion from the mission hadn’t even touched them. And there it was again—Wally’s hand grazing Artemis' arm, light and brief but undeniably there. Your chest tightened, and for a moment, you hated yourself for noticing, for caring so much when it shouldn’t matter.

Maybe you’re imagining it. Maybe it’s nothing.

But that didn’t stop the ache that had begun to settle deep inside you.

The song’s chorus rang through your mind again.

I love you so... please let me go.

It was ironic, really, how much those lyrics felt like your life at that moment. Because as much as you wanted Wally to be yours, truly yours, doubt had crept in. Was Wally the one who needed to let go of you? Or was it you that needed to release the hope you held onto so tightly?

Wally glanced up, catching your eye across the room, and for a split second, his smile faltered. Just barely, but you noticed. He waved, his usual carefree expression returning instantly, and in that moment, all you wanted was to run into his arms and forget every insecurity, every fear that had begun to wedge its way between you two.

But you didn’t move. Instead, you returned the wave, forcing a smile that you weren’t sure reached your eyes. You felt frozen, unable to bridge the gap between you. You weren’t sure you even wanted to. Not when you didn’t know if you were what he wanted anymore.

You watched as Artemis said something that made Wally laugh, his hand reaching up to ruffle her hair in that playful, casual way of his. It was a gesture that once had been just between the two of you, and the realization hit you like a punch to the gut. Maybe it was nothing. Maybe Wally didn’t even realize he was doing it. But that didn’t make it hurt any less.

You are all I want, you thought bitterly. But am I all you want?

The song’s lyrics pressed harder into your mind, almost mocking now.

I love you so...

Wally broke away from Artemis and began walking toward you, his familiar lopsided grin in place. Your heart pounded, but this time it wasn’t from excitement. It was from the weight of the question that you knew you couldn’t keep holding inside.

“Hey, you okay?” Wally asked, stopping in front of you, his tone light but with an edge of concern. He reached out, brushing a strand of hair from your face in a gesture that was supposed to feel comforting, but right now it only felt... hollow. Like an echo of what you used to have.

You swallowed hard, forcing yourself to meet his eyes. They were still the same vibrant green that had once made you feel like you were the only person in the world. But now... now you weren’t so sure.

“I’m fine,” you lied, your voice barely a whisper.

Wally frowned, tilting his head. “You don’t seem fine. Is something up?”

There it was—the moment. You could let it go, push it down like you had been for weeks now, or you could ask. You could open the door to a conversation that might change everything, for better or worse.

But do you want the answer? A voice inside you asked, trembling.

“Wally...” you began, your voice shaky. “Is there... Is there something going on between you and Artemis?”

The question hung in the air between you like a weight, heavy and suffocating. Wally blinked, clearly caught off guard, and for a second, you thought maybe you had been wrong. Maybe it really was all in your head.

But then you saw it—the flicker of hesitation in his eyes. It was small, barely noticeable, but it was enough. Enough to make your heart shatter a little more.

“No,” he said quickly, but his voice lacked the usual confidence. “No, of course not. We’re just friends.”

Just friends. It should have been enough, but it wasn’t. Because you knew Wally, knew him better than anyone, and the way his gaze shifted, the way he fidgeted just a bit too much... it told you everything you needed to know. Maybe nothing had happened. Maybe it was all in the subtext, in the unspoken moments between them. But that didn’t make it any less real.

You nodded, biting your lip to keep the tears at bay. “Right. Just friends.”

Wally stepped closer, concern etched on his face. “Hey, come on. You know you’re the one I care about. You’re the one I—” He stopped himself, and for a moment, you thought he was going to say it. But he didn’t. He just stood there, looking at you with that same confused expression.

I love you so... please let me go...

The song’s words reverberated in your mind again, and for the first time, you considered it. Maybe letting go was what you needed. Because loving someone wasn’t supposed to feel like this—like constantly questioning, constantly wondering if you were enough.

You gave Wally a small, sad smile, stepping back. “I just need some time,” you whispered, your voice barely holding together. “To think.”

Wally opened his mouth to protest, but then he seemed to realize there was nothing he could say to fix it. At least, not right now.

You turned and walked away, the weight of the song still heavy in your mind. You loved Wally West more than anything, but maybe loving him wasn’t enough. Not when the doubt lingered, not when his heart seemed torn between you and someone else. Maybe it was time to let go.

For the first time, you weren’t sure if love was enough to hold onto.

[venuslcver]

jayj maybank struggled with constant, unwavering uncertainty that was entirely paralyzing. never relenting for even the briefest moments in time — a prime example of his environment.

however, after eleven, entirely too long months of an on-and-off relationship — a girl would lol her eyes when the same excuses were thrown at her when broken up with, every time.

"i-im like really fuck'n sorry. i just can't be do'n this, you know?"

the same look would be given when he would come back crawling to you after one, two weeks max of being broken up. to which you would inevitably cave — becoming putty to his touch. stuck in a constant, revolving loop.

on the occasional chance, the most recent time, you saw him well, happy. it had been longer than the standard few weeks, close to a month, maybe two.

unlike the others, this time you let go of the nagging heartbreak that took over you when the inevitable breaking up took place. feeling a lack of judgment towards him. see, you can't feel anger towards someone that you have a clean slate about. someone you let go of a long time ago. slowly you approach him a genuine smile plastered on your face, in contrast to the smirk he has when he catches you in his sight.

like always, jayj is the first to talk, not shying away from applying his confident facade, "you're looking real good, i didn't think you could get, well, y'know hotter. wanna get out of here?"

staring directly into his eyes, not making a peep. that was until he started fiddling with the neckline of the dress you were currently wearing. an agile scoff is tossed entirely into his cast, before completely ignoring his request, and his touchy nature altogether — "i just came over to tell you that you look better. happier."

"well, i think i would be doing a whole'lot better if you gave me some sugar"

besides the annoyingly obvious trait of self-destruction that possessed jayj at a constant rate. he always had impeccable timing for his dumbassry.

"n-nevermind. this was a mistake, you can't take anything seriously," you said, in an annoyed tone with swift movements to exit the situation entirely. it had been the first exchange since the most recent break-up, and all he could bring to the table was his unrelenting childish tendencies.

"wait i-i get this, you leave. i follow." jayj says with full confidence in his voice. though, quick to catch the glance you gave him. yet, he chose to continue.

"so-so no one suspects that we are leaving together"

"i swear you just hear what you want to, i was just coming to say you seem to be doing good, a-and that i have moved on"

let out a gulp as he attempted to nonchalantly catch his breathe at the confession. running his hands through unbrushed, light locks, he spoke asperated, "what? what could you possibly mean, you 'moved on',"

you barely had time to register his air quotes before he continued his rant, "i-if you 'moved on', then e-explain why were you come'n over here trying to y'know?"

a slight shake took control over him when the thought of you. with. another. guy.

"what?! i wasn't trying anything. at. all. i was just checking on you, and y'know i should've known that you would turn it into something it wasn't." "a-and honestly i felt real sorry for you — but, i won't allow myself anymore. you did this to yourself. i was there for you, and you blew it time and time again."

feeling completely hollow inside from the entire confession that took place, you only had it in you to push to walk away. leaving jayj maybank, standing alone, entirely by himself.

[grapejuicestyless]

I Just Want To Love You.

Harry Styles x fem!reader

Summery: Harry’s an idiot, but he’s not stupid.

Seeing her so distraught was something I wish I had never seen. The image of her teary eyes burning into mine tattooed itself into my brain and her trembling lip was a constant thought that clouded it just as horrible.

She had been so bubbly, so happy when I first called her. She seemed relieved I was there to talk to her, there to catch up while we were so far apart.

I noticed that about her. With each of these calls, she seemed to grow more and more excited. She got more and more lively like my presence was the best thing in the world to her, even if I couldn’t be there to hold her and say what I wanted to, to her face. She supported me fully, every god damn time.

It was only when her voice came out a shaky mess and her eyes blinked rapidly to hide the tears that it clicked. All too late and all too naive to realize it at the time, but it all fell into place as soon as the phone went dead and the final sentences spoken to each other fell deaf.

She was excited I was coming home. My y/n, my baby, had been at home, waiting patiently for her lover to come home and live up on her for so long. She’s been so patient and so supportive, how could I have not seen it.

Sure, I suspected it in the past, seeing the slight twitch of her lips when I’d mention another leg of tour being added in order to connect with more international fans and spread positivity in the best way I could, but her over supportiveness overshadowed those brief moments. My stomach twisted sickly at my careless neglect to my love.

While I was out for months between holidays, surrounding myself with love and overwhelming support, y/n had been waiting for the one person she held close to her heart to come home and show her some love in return.

Suddenly, I felt selfish. I felt disgusting and I felt like the worst boyfriend in the history books in that moment. How had I been so careless with the most precious love of my life? How had I let myself drift so far from her?

This realization set in hard, hitting deep. I couldn’t sleep on it, knowing I was hurting her by not being there with her.

So, though I was sure I would get an earful the next morning from some of my closest friends on this long, close knit tour group for being so on and off and deciding so last minute to cancel any further plans, but it had to be done.

I watched the phone ring for a few minutes, Jeff’s name illuminated on my phone. Glancing to the clock by my side, it read out 2:35am. Three hours after the phone call with Y/n had ended. Three hours since that moment had been stuck on a loop in my head.

“Hello?” He answered, voice heavy with sleep and throat dry from the hours with no water.

“Hey, Jeff. Sorry for calling so late…listen, fuck. I just want to be straight forward about this. I can’t do those additional shows like I said before. I need to go home this month. Not September. July. I need to be at home.” My voice came out a mile a minute, loud and stern. I was certain of what I wanted.

My palms were heavy on my eyes. Fingers rubbing harshly into my temples, Jeff let out a quiet sigh.

“Okay, yeah. That’s fine. Nothings been finalized yet. We can cancel. I’ll get on it first thing today. At a normal hour, okay? Go to bed, Harry. You have a show today.” The phone beeped dead, and for the first time in the last few hours, the guilt that was so heavy became slightly lighter.

I wanted to call y/n, share the exciting news and explain how horrible I felt for treating her so poorly these past few months. I wanted to kiss her and hold her until she screamed at me to leave her alone, but I was still halfway across the world with a couple more shows left before I could fix everything for us.

…

Going away for awhile was bittersweet usually. I would cherish the time alone I would get in the serenity of my own home. Having the ability to curl up on the carpet and spread myself put into a comfortable sleep whenever, the feeling of home enough to lull me into a deep slumber for the first few days. I would miss the stage terribly too. I would miss the fans funny signs and excitement surrounding a shared passion for music. Yet, when I made the speech about going away for a bit, I found myself hesitating on the promise to come back.

Yes, of course I would come back. In a years time I would be ready to head back on the road. Yet, still feeling the hangover from my breakthrough just a few weeks ago, I felt nothing but relief to be going away to my y/n.

I found myself rushing to the airport. Showing up early just to sit impatiently with my headphones jammed in my ears so hard it almost silenced all my thoughts.

Y/n seemed to be doing better, recently. I hadn’t told her we finalized the plan to not continue adding shows to HSLOT. I hadn’t told her about that late night call with Jeff or how much deep regret I felt for ignoring her all those weeks apart.

We talked almost every night. She shared her silly poems she had written and doodled on every unused notebook in the house while I was away, she confessed. Always the most cheery when she didn’t have to be. Always so strong. Always such a beautiful, caring woman to me.

What a beautiful love story her and me had that I’d managed to fuck up so carelessly.

That idea became my new worry. From the airport all the way to our driveway, it became the poison that overtook my body. How I hadn’t listened to her silent pleas. How I hadn’t seen how I was slowly killing her with my lack of care.

My knuckles rested on the door. I knocked, knowing it was my home too. I still knocked, unsure if I would be welcomed.

The door swung open, y/n looking sleepy, pen ink on her hands and my clothes blanketing over her body in a cozy make shift pajama set.

“Harry?” It was pure shock, the tone she used to greet me. She eyed me up and down, not knowing if it was too good to be true. If her mind was making up games to tear her down all over again.

“Hi, Baby.” The tears clouded my vision, a lump growing in my throat so great that it came out a gravely whimper.

Arms wrapped tightly around my body, her cheek nestling into the crook of my neck. She could’ve knocked me back, if it wasn’t for the good footing I had on our front steps. Even if we fell and I bled out, at least I was back with my love.

And as my shirt became soaked in her happy tears and her hair growing wet from the ones that managed to escape my eyes, I could only think of one thing. Only one thought that replayed the entire journey home. The one thing I wanted so badly since the realization dawned on me.

I just want to love you.

———————————————————————-

I’m so sorry this is soooo messy 😦😦😦

I had the thought and just had to write abt it ASAP so I wouldn’t lose it. I might redo it later!!

[geeminz]

ᯓ A CHANGE OF HEART // giselle x oc ; smau

00 | as long as it's you

↳ in which: mihye has been secretly dating giselle, her best friend’s older sister, for four months. what happens when their relationship turns toxic, and their secrets become public?

word count: 2.1k

taglist: @thefckghost @emphobics @jisooftme @xszn @gtfoiydlyj @wonysugar @bluhuir @baewonlove

a.n. i was literally so nervous while posting this cuz im not too confident about the quality of the writing T^T but anyways yeah! here's the prologue guys 🥹

───────────────────────── flashback

───────────────────────── now

it’s now 9 in the evening, and mihye is tired of waiting.

she could no longer count the times giselle’s stood her up. she knows her girlfriend is busy — after all, she’s a junior in college. mihye’s well-aware of the fact that giselle’s coursework is much more demanding compared to hers. mihye tries her best to understand — she tries her best to be sweet, to not get mad or outwardly frustrated, but couldn’t she spare a minute for her girlfriend? can’t she just send her a tiny little message? or maybe even call her if she’s too busy to type?

giselle’s lack of communication gnaws at mihye’s heart like a persistent ache, a relentless throb that refuses to dull, no matter how hard she tries to ignore it.

she’s been forgetting a lot lately… how long until she forgets she has a girlfriend?

mihye wonders if normal relationships are like this — after all, love is all about giving and taking, right? it’s about adjustments, understanding. shortcomings are normal — but at this point, shortcomings from giselle are everyday. 

it wasn’t just the missed dates that mihye was frustrated about — it was the constant cycle of disappointment from all of giselle’s broken and hollow promises. mihye wonders if she’s done something wrong to make giselle act so… detached. 

frustrated, mihye sighs deeply. the side of her head crashlands on one of the throw pillows on the couch — while a plethora of emotions swirls inside her. right now, mihye’s stuck. 

should i text or call her?

mihye doesn’t want her girlfriend to think that she’s being too clingy — giselle has told her that before (even though giselle only said it indirectly, mihye isn’t dumb; she knows what giselle meant when she told her about how ‘they’ve been spending too much time together lately’ and that they’ll be ‘tired of each other at this point’). but what else can mihye do? she hasn’t seen giselle for the past three days.

three days too long, the girl thinks. i miss her so much.

a ding! sound popped from mihye’s phone, and mihye swears she’s never gotten up that fast before. reaching out for her phone, she checks out her girlfriend’s reply.

frustrated, mihye puts her phone back on the coffee table. it was violently buzzing from the endless stream of phone calls that giselle was spamming her with. 

mihye misses her girlfriend, for sure. but despite her desire to just crawl into her girlfriend’s arms and just forget everything else (just like how giselle forgot their own date), mihye also doesn’t want to listen to her poor excuses about how she didn’t forget — she just had a lot on her mind.

hearing those poorly thought out reasons over and over again was gradually draining mihye. not only did it wear her out, she was also hurt by giselle’s lack of a proper and valid explanation to justify her absence.

mihye glances at her buzzing phone once more. let me let her suffer a little, just this once. i’m too frustrated to listen to her right now.

mihye sighs, tired from the endless train of thoughts that looped inside her brain. she lets her phone ring — knowing very well that giselle will stop calling her soon. she always does. she listens to her ringtone as if it were a broken record playing again and again, and her empty pair of eyes stares at the rose petal-filled and candle-scented room she had set up two hours ago. with blank eyes, mihye observes her living room, her body stunned and her heart empty upon the realization that her best efforts to impress her girlfriend were all going to waste.

i really thought we’d get to spend a little time together today.

due to a force of habit, she subconsciously grabs one of the plushies near her — the one that giselle gifted her for their first monthsary — and mihye clutches it against her chest. her nose brushes against the fur of the plushie, and she smells giselle’s signature perfume on its surface. just like that, giselle invades her thoughts once more.

her phone, which was perched on top of the glass surface of her coffee table, stopped ringing after a minute or so. mihye could only lay like that in silence and in solitude, heart heavy, pained and empty. she must be tired now, mihye thinks. but after that thought, three notifications pinged at her phone.

mihye lazily reaches for her phone to check the notifications.

mihye’s eyes widen at the text, and before she could even register the texts and respond to giselle, a series of familiar knocks came from the front door.

mihye makes no sound to address the knocks, but she recognizes the voice coming from behind the door.

“hye, i know you’re in there. open the door for me, please?”

mihye doesn’t respond to giselle. she stays mum and stuck at her place.

“mihye, baby. please. let’s talk, love.” giselle pleads once more.

mihye slowly shuts her eyes in defeat. she knew she couldn’t resist giselle — she could never. it’s giselle, after all. and mihye loves her enough to get up from her sofa and walk towards the door to open it for her girlfriend, who was currently pleading for her on the other side of the door.

once the door was opened, mihye sees giselle, clad in all black, leaning on the frame of her doorway.

why does she have to be so goddamn pretty! 

with her big brown eyes, and pouty lips, giselle still looked breathtaking to mihye, even if she did make her cry multiple times before. right now, the older looked like a kicked puppy with the way that she was furrowing her eyebrows. giselle’s glossy eyes stared deeply into mihye’s, and just like that, mihye had no choice but to let giselle in her apartment.

mihye stretches her arm to open the door wider for giselle to enter the premises of her apartment. but instead of immediately going inside, the older girl pulls mihye into a tight embrace.

“baby,” giselle whispers, burying her head into mihye’s neck. “i am so sorry. i’m such an asshole.”

at least you’re self-aware, mihye says in her mind, but she stays quiet as giselle continues to hug her, grasping at her body as if mihye will disappear once giselle loosens her hold on mihye’s waist.

“i just had a lot of things on my mind, hye.”

tell me something you haven’t already told me, gi.

“and i was just so tired today, our prof is literally trying to kill us. i almost fell asleep the moment i got back to my condo.”

i’ve heard that one, too.

“i’m sorry, hye. please forgive me.”

when will you ever stop saying sorry?

“you know i love you, right? i love you, mihye. i’m sorry for fucking up.”

“...”

“hye? please talk to me.” giselle’s warm breath hits the skin of mihye’s neck. due to the closeness of their bodies, mihye could feel the quick thumping of her girlfriend’s heart. she could sense the quickness of giselle’s breathing; as if she just ran a marathon and is running out of breath. mihye could feel how tightly giselle has shut her eyes from the feeling of giselle’s long lashes against the surface of her neck.

she’s sorry — she always is.

and you always forgive her.

that’s how this goes.

mihye sighs, slowly giving in and reciprocating giselle’s hug. just like that, mihye feels the older girl’s heart rate increase tenfold, but after a few seconds, the girl relaxes in her arms.

“gi, let’s go inside first.” mihye suggests, but giselle doesn’t budge at all. 

“gi,” mihye calls out to her girlfriend again, and this time, she lightly taps the girl’s back to call her attention. “gi, let’s get in. someone might see you here.”

“so?” giselle replies, not wanting to interrupt the position they were in.

it is comfy, mihye tries to justify in her head.

“so… someone might see you. some of your blockmates are my neighbors on this floor, you know. they might get the wrong idea if… if they see us like this.”

giselle stays frozen for a few moments, before pulling her body away from her younger girlfriend. mihye looks at her, and deems giselle’s expression as unreadable. she neither looked happy nor sad — instead, she looks like she’s just been hit by a ton of bricks.

did i say something wrong?

the couple walk toward the living room together — giselle observed the place with the same unreadable expression. at this point, mihye couldn’t read her, she could only observe. despite everything, giselle was still careful so as to not step on the petal of roses sprawled around mihye’s floor.

when they got to mihye’s couch, they both stayed silent. mihye — truth be told, did not want to speak. she was far too tired to do so.

we may not be okay, but at least she’s here with me now.

no matter how disappointed i am.

it was giselle who broke the silence between them.

“hye… i’m sorry for putting you in this setup.”

mihye looks at her girlfriend with concern. giselle stares at her lap, unable to look her girlfriend in the eye.

“i’m sorry that i can’t publicly show how much i love you. i’m just not ready yet. i hope you understand that.”

mihye nods before responding. “i do, gi. i knew what i was getting myself into.”

mihye stays silent as giselle continues to rack around her thoughts to pick better words to tell her girlfriend.

“i just need more time, hye. please be patient for me.” giselle says, and mihye’s heart has no other choice but to accept what giselle gives her.

mihye has a lot of questions that she wanted to ask — gi, are we okay?

gi, why are you so confusing?

why are you so cold and sweet at the same time?

what happened to us? 

but as soon as giselle pulled mihye into her warm embrace, all of mihye’s questions and thoughts dissolved into nothing, as giselle’s tom ford perfume swoops into her sense of smells and floods her thoughts with how good her girlfriend smells. 

she's here. with me. and she does care. she's just been busy.

giselle loves me. and i love her.

turns out, no matter how disappointed mihye is in giselle — one word, one apology, one hug from giselle, and mihye’s melting into her touch again. 

as long as it’s her, i’ll endure the pain.

go to: masterlist | next

[shadowyone]

Give me the full King Candy x your OC lore

Buckle up! This one's a long one-- I apologize in advance

(This is the regular Wreck It Ralph AU where she's there! So it isn't my Royal Family AU or other AU versions of Scarlet! I can always drop the lore on those ones too!)

Scarlet's game, Forest Heroes was made in 1982. The same time around TurboTime and Fix It Felix Jr. Scarlet's game was introduced about four or so months, because her game was all about the environment and people just weren't into those kinds of games. So, her cabinet was constantly going from storage to storage and arcade to arcade until she finally arrived at Litwak's. She's the queen of her game and only appears if the players make it to the end to have her congratulate them. Due to no one playing her game towards the end or just in general, she was stuck in her castle, watching players walk by.

She was right across from Turbo Time, so every day, she saw him race and be loved by all in the earlier days. Scarlet already struggles with connecting with people a lot, due to how many times her game has been moved about and unplugged, it has definitely fucked her up just a bit. Not to mention all the isolation.

Their first meet-up was in Tappers when he welcomed her for being a newbie and he charmed her. Scarlet has no idea he only invited her over for a win, as he had few losses that day, so he needed someone to boost his ego and she was kind enough. So, what does he do? Take her for a spin and talk all about how great he is.

Scarlet took this as affection and wanted to get closer. Turbo doesn't do affection or relationships, so he began to distance himself from her but would come around if he needed another ego boost or some random ass compliments thrown his way. RoadBlasters happened and she heard/saw the whole thing. She believes his whole going Turbo moment was a testament. She believes this whole stunt was due to him being angry and hating his game and the endless cycle it was, rather than him doing it out of jealousy. Scarlet quite literally believes that he's just like her and stuck in a horrible loop of their games, but Turbo just doesn't want to be vocal about it.

For years she mourned him and kept to her endless cycle. Visiting Tappers every now and then. One day, She saw King Candy walk in. She was certain it was him, due to his height, his voice, and the way he acted. Stalker Scarlet moment. She watches him from afar and during the movie events, she comes into Sugar Rush to confirm her suspicions. This annoys King Candy of course, constantly trying to get rid of her, because he believes she's annoying and also a huge threat to his cover.

(This is where she wears her disguises. Like X-celerate and Jester Sweetens) For the most part, she sticks around in his castle, not caring about her game anymore, practically forgetting about it, because all she wants to do is be by his side. He likes the ego-boosting and the cheering, but he still doesn't entirely like her. Deep down he likes her a little, but he's not going to admit that and he's far too busy for any kind of relationship (Like racing and killing Vanellope) Scarlet does show a bit of her darker side though, begins to make torture suggestions or even cheering him on to kill someone via racing or just in general. (I still want to make her a bit deranged and evil)

Boom, King Candy becomes Cybrid and tosses her down the peppermint pit for being annoying and she crawls out as a giant cybrid who's a bit feral, but loyal to him. In the end when the Diet Cola Mountain erupts, Scarlet wants nothing more than to die, because she believes she's ugly, In a constant battle with her bug brain, And there's just nothing for her to go back to. Without him and her game, her life is kind of pointless now. She grabs King Candy by the arm and yanks them both towards the boiling cola and then they die together.

I want to keep working on her and the regular AU of her just being there. There's so many fun ideas I can do and I don't exactly want her to be a goody two-shoes, because yeah she's selfish and a bit evil herself. Nobody respects her or her game. She's constantly mistaken for a princess and she truly has no kingdom or subjects to rule over. So, I think there's a ton of jealousy she has towards Turbo that morphed into this obsession of being with him and being understood by someone. She does love him though. And Turbo loves her in his own odd way (Even though he struggles to show it) She's a bit complicated in my eyes and I just love what she's become. Instead of this kind woman trying to get the love of Turbo, she's got more to her going on under the surface. Thank you for coming to my TedTalk- God this is so long-

[r0mantic-f00l]

(sirius and the Marauders are not like good people in this story fyi, I apologise please don't kill me :D )

Thunder

Sirius Black was an intoxicating man.

That was a feature most admired of him yet most feared.

He was exhilarating, he could make you feel as if you are eternal, as if you could fly through the clouds, as if you could stay forever young and naïve.

He was also dangerous. Not dangerous in the sense of crime, but rather in the sense of entrapment. Once you felt the exciting rush that came with the mere presence of Sirius Black, you were trapped. Imprisoned in a constant cycle of happiness, of waiting and of misery.

Imprisonment is not the right word, no. Rather, you willingly stayed, going along with a cycle that became normal. Because no matter what he did, no matter how painful he tugged your heart, you stayed. Your heart was his.

-♡-

Booming music vibrated against the floorboards, yet the roaring laughter of Sirius Black and his friends rung over it.

It was a small gathering, not a party, could not be defined as one with only a handful of people there. All were Sirius' friends, friends that you had met only a couple of times. The person you were closest to the most from his little circle was Lily, yet even then it could barely be called a friendship.

You sat in the corner, feeling the water droplets from the condensation of your cider can running down into your fingertips as you watched Sirius with his friends.

He grinned brightly as James told a story about his job or whatever it was, and laughed when Remus mumbled something whitty.

The girls were talking in the kitchen about something, whilst you waited for Sirius to invite you over to his side. You scolded yourself for being so dependant on him, yet you felt like you had no choice but to depend on him in that situation, when you were surrounded by people you barely knew.

"You OK there?" You lifted your head up to Lily, who smiled softly at you, holding a wine glass in her hand.

You nodded and took a sip of your cider.

"Yeah, are you?"

She nodded and took a sip of her wine.

"Can't complain."

She then sat down next to you and glanced over at her fiancée talking to your boyfriend.

"How're you and Sirius?"

Not good. Not healthy. Stuck in a loop of arguing and apologising. Yet you would not exchange it, would not leave him, for anything.

"Good. You and James?" You replied.

"Never better." Lily smiled whilst gazing at James with such adoration in her eyes.

James felt her gaze, like their minds and souls were connected, and smiled at Lily, looking at her in a way that showed his strong love for her, in a way that made everyone know just how much James Potter truly treasured his future wife.

It wasn't fair. It felt cruel watching their love, seeing the way his smile only grew whilst her cheeks deepened in its red colour.

Sirius seemingly had forgotten you were there in the corner, talking loudly to his three friends.

"God, you lot have no idea how frustrating it is to date someone so needy and desperate and clingy. I just want her to fuck off, you know? To just leave me alone sometimes and... I don't know, cling to someone else."

The group laughed in shock to his words.

"No, I'm not joking, honestly if she came home and said she wants an open relationship or some shit, I'd be relieved. Maybe she'd give me a fucking breather or something." Sirius mumbled, grinning when James patted his shoulder whilst chuckling about how 'awful' he is.

"Oh my God, I can't believe he said that." Lily gasped, staring at Sirius with wide eyes as if she was suprised.

You knew she wasn't. You knew she expected that of him, that she knew how harsh he could be with his words. How he broke hearts as if it was nothing but a bit of fun to him.

"It's OK." You murmured, plastering a smile on your face whilst your eyes turned glassy.

This was not the first time you had pretended you were not hurt by him, and it wouldn't be the last. You would let him say the most vile things about you as long as he would come to you with open arms and hold you delicately like you were his everything.

Because you believed you were. Like he was your everything. You loved him. And you believed he loved you. Even if the only times he would say it was when he was inside you.

"Really? You're not gonna say anything to him?" The red-haired girl raised her eyebrow at you, staring at your smile as you stared at Sirius.

You didn't answer her.

"If that was James saying that, I'd throw my ring at his head." Lily murmured whilst lifting her glass to take a sip of her wine.

Her words stung, made you feel like you were a weak, stupid girl.

You weren't. You were in love. You were addicted to Sirius Black.

Lily then left your side to go join the other girls, and you felt truly alone.

Then he looked at you.

Just one glance, one second before he turned away.

And you felt like you had everything you needed right there, with him.

-♡-

It was midnight when you both returned to your shared apartment.

Sirius was drunk, although he argued he was only tipsy whilst slurring his words, and you were sober. You were always the sober one whilst he was always the drunk one, and it would always lead to something different, something that he would say once and never again.

He stumbled into the living room when you unlocked the front door, immediately taking off his shoes and throwing them somewhere that you would have to find the next day.

He unbuttoned his white shirt all the way but left it hanging on his shoulders, and he walked over to the wall-length mirror, pointing at his tattoos and smiling whilst he explained the meaning of them to you.

You grinned, already knowing the meaning of them all, but you let him explain nonetheless.

"We-we should get matching tattoos." He gasped, turning to face you.

"Yeah?" You smiled, knowing he didn't mean it, knowing he would forget he even thought of it the next morning, yet you would still cling to the idea of having an imprint of you on his skin forever.

He nodded enthusiastically and walked over to you, wrapping his arms around your waist.

"Yeah, we could get hearts or flowers or something..." Sirius trailed off, bending down to nuzzle your neck, sighing like he had found his permanent home.

You ran your fingers through his soft hair whilst your other hand rested on the back of his neck, letting yourself relax in his arms.

Unexpectedly, he picked you up and began spinning around, laughing whilst you squealed but joined in with his laughter.

"I'm dizzy." He murmured, and he stopped spinning, yet he still held you like you were a fragile doll.

Before you could say anything, Sirius walked over to the couch and dropped onto it, groaning as you fell with him.

You shook your head whilst chuckling, moving to straddle him as you brushed his hair out of his eyes.

He was gazing up at you like you were the Sun, like you were a goddess, like you were his everything.

"I'm gonna marry you."

You froze.

"W-What?"

He smiled in a goofy way, moving his hand to caress your cheek whilst the other cupped your jaw.

"I'm gonna marry you." He repeated, firmer in his voice, and you kissed him.

You didn't say anything, not even when he called you his bride, not when a couple days after he told you he wanted four children with you, not when two weeks after he told you he wanted to grow old with you.

You didn't say anything when he ignored you, when he complained about you to his friends, when he stepped too close to pretty girls in bars and clubs.

You didn't say anything because deep down, you knew he didn't mean any of it. Yet you still loved him. You always would.

Even if he came home at 4am smelling of beer and perfume, even if he pretended you didn't exist, even if he didn't care when his friends talked shit about you.

You would always end up in his arms.

-♡-