#it's time not just I start working on my person

[requiemforthepoets]

you just pulled a verstappen! 𖦹 LN4

PAIRINGS: lando norris x female!reader

SUMMARY: you played a sim racing before, but not really on an actual sim racing setup like lando’s. so when you had the chance, you decided to try it out.

REMINDERS: this is purely fiction, the way how the character is portrayed in my story does not reflect the person that is portraying my character in real life. always separate fiction from reality, and do not repost or copy my work in any way.

WARNINGS: no use of y/n, fluff, and a little bit of cursing

WORD COUNT: 820

AUTHOR’S NOTE: found this on my drafts. i have a lot of lando one shots, but never really posted it bc i think it was poorly written, so i decided to fix this one up and post it. i hope you’ll enjoy this one!

Your and Lando’s apartment was unusually quiet. Lando had been out all day, caught up in a string of meetings, and being alone in a big apartment, the boredom had started to creep in. You sighed, glancing over at Lando’s pristine sim racing setup, which sat there like a tempting invitation calling out for you. It wasn’t like you had not played sim racing before, but using his rig, specifically with Lando’s custom settings and all his tweaks? That was something else entirely.

“Eh, why the hell not?” You muttered to yourself with a mischievous grin.

You quickly booted-up Lando’s setup, and you were off. You found yourself in the middle of a tense Grand Prix, the roaring of the virtual engines filling up the headphones as you become very absorbed with the race. Time flew by, and you were too focused to even notice when Lando came home.

“Hey, baby! I’m back!” Lando’s voice echoed faintly from the hallways as he called back to you, and you never responded. All you could hear and think about was the hairpin turn coming up on the circuit, and nailing the turn. “Babe, where are you?” He called out to you again, but you were still glued to the screen, the intensity of the race drawing all of your attention.

A few seconds later, Lando still got no answer from you. So when he checked every room in the apartment, and saw that you were inside his gaming room all along, he entered immediately, but when he saw you, he stopped dead in his tracks. There you were, fully immersed in sim racing, eyes locked on the screen with his headphones on and hand deftly handling the steering wheel. He blinked, half in disbelief, before grinning like a little kid on christmas morning.

“Are you on my sim setup right now?” He asked, voice full of shock, but you were too busy overtaking another car to reply.

“Okay, that was a decent corner,” Lando said with a playful smirk as he walked over to you, leaning against the back of the chair. “Not bad at all.” He added, folding his arms, and watching in awe as you navigated through the pack of cars.

You heard him, of course, but you were in the zone. The next thing you knew, you pulled off a move that would have made Max proud, sliding past two cars with precision that even caught Lando off guard.

“Whoa, that was a Verstappen move!” Lando exclaimed, wide-eyed. “You just did a Verstappen! Are you sure you don’t want to join F1? Because honestly, what the hell was that?!”

A smirk just tugged at the corner of your lips, definitely proud of yourself, but you remained focused, determined to finish the race without breaking concentration. Lando couldn’t help but laugh at your intense expression.

“Alright, I need to record this one,” Lando chuckled, pulling out his phone. “No one’s gonna believe me if I told everyone on Thread that my girl just pulled a Verstappen move, unless I post it.”

“Look at this! My girl’s out here stealing my setup and driving like she’s been on F1!” Lando began as he started filming, making sure to capture the moment as you powered through the final lap, and zooming in on your face, grinning the whole time. “Guys, I’m telling you, I’m not really making this up. She’s actually faster than me on some of these corners!”

You barely heard him as you crossed the finish line, finishing in P1, and the sound of the crowd roaring through the headphones as you finally relaxed in the chair. You let out a squeal of happiness and looked over at Lando, who was still recording and shaking his head in disbelief.

“Okay, what was that?” He laughed at you, turning off the camera. “I leave for a few hours, and suddenly you’re doing Verstappen-level moves on my rig? Are you secretly practicing whenever I’m not home?”

“Maybe I’m just naturally talented, ever think of that?” You looked at him smugly, and wiggled your eyebrows as you teased him.

“You know what?” Lando grinned at you, gently pulling you out of the seat and wrapping his arms around you. “I believe it. I’m just saying, if McLaren ever needs a backup driver, you should really think about it.”

“Babe, that’s Pato’s job, and I won’t take that away from him,” you joked, causing Lando to laugh, and you leaned into his embrace. “I’m just kidding! But…I might steal your sim setup more often.”

“Deal,” Lando chuckled, kissing your forehead. “Just don’t make me look too bad, alright?”

“No promises.” You said cheekily, then grinning up at him.

“Alright, alright,” he smiled at you. “Now where’s my kiss.” You leaned in, and kissed him softly on the lips.

[yanmuffins]

waiter! waiter! more phineas and ferb reader pls!

I wonder how the batfam would react once they catch reader inventions on a random tuesday, like, "hm, what a nice day to look out on the window and HOLY SHIT WHY IS THERE A GIANT ROBOT SPITING FIRE WHILE RIDING A ROLLERCOASTER IN MY BACKYARD???"

the events that would follow this incident would be funny and exasperating, me thinks

also, wouldn't it be funnier if Perry the Platypus was part of the JL? and like, no one knows his identity but Superman, and neither of them are willing to talk about it-

I know it would be very unlikely, since everyone there would have enough neurons to recognize a platypus with and without a hat, but for the sake of shit and giggles, just think of how funny that would be

welp, I needed to get that outta ma chest, I hope I at least made you laugh a little, because seriously this is one of the best ideas I've seen in this tag and I can't stop thinking and giggling about it

Stay well!

context.

first: i was not expecting this concept to be so popular!! the responses i've gotten from everyone are so amazing!!  ( ⸝⸝´꒳`⸝⸝) thank you for the ask, anon!! it always makes my day.

i am formally announcing that i will be turning phineas and ferb reader into a fic now. it's too good a concept to pass up. something more light-hearted to work between the other fics i'm writing.

batfamily finding out about reader's whacky inventions would be an event. it so wholeheartedly shatters the image they had of reader to the point they just have to sit with what the hell just happened for a while before they even consider what to do about you next. still so many things that don't make sense. their newest case is how the fuck did we go this long without finding out (Y/N) has been building mechas in our backyard and why are those things always gone when it's convenient.

then the realizations just start dropping on them like an anvil on a looney tunes character. and they kinda feel like shit, cause how did they not notice? really puts into perspective how they've neglected you all this time. so many stunts you pulled right under their nose, on their backyard, their garage, throughout gotham and metropolis. ok, were out there being creative and amazing and you sure know how to spend the wayne family money, they'll give you that, but it was so irresponsible of you! who knows what could've gone wrong. you're not like them! you're a civilian with no training, the only regular teenager in the family, you're the last person who should be exposing themselves doing all that.

bruce goes off on you, screaming about how could you be so reckless, you did all of this behind his back– what? what do you mean he gave his permission? and he is floored, devastated, blood pressure up, when you remind him of every instance you dropped by his office with a document for him to sign or to ask for permission, with proof as you pull out every paper he put his signature without a second look.

and that, ladies and gentlemen, is when reader's dynamic with the batfam does a complete 180 and their little yandere antennae start going off. no more whacky cartoonish shenanigans. at least not without proper supervision. they know you're not a fan of this new arrangement, but you gotta understand they let you go unchecked for way too long! they'll drown you in family activities so you don't even have to worry about it. who wants to build a teleportation machine, anyway? just join them for family movie night.

as for perry, that is going to take them a while longer to figure out. bruce just can't stand another insane discovery, so when batman sees an intelligent platypus wearing a fedora and walking on two feet on justice league headquarters (if we're going by the idea that he's a part of JL), he's just going to think "my kid has a pet platypus. huh."

oh, consider:

dick: "damian, you knew all this time?! our sibling could've gotten into serious trouble! why didn't you tell us about this?"

damian: stares into the camera like he's in the office.

[aliyahwritings]

THE CONTRACTED HEART — Rafe Cameron (06)

MASTERLIST | Basketball Player & Model!Female Reader

Summary: Rafe Cameron, a basketball star, needs a marriage to fix his image, while Model!Reader needs one for citizenship. They may be the perfect solution for each other.

Warnings: smut, descriptions of violence, jealousy, usage of drugs, talks about body image/ed, angst, and lots of bickering. Reader is confident, a people-pleaser, has a traumatic past, and is a sunshine with an attitude. Rafe is a whore, possessive, cocky, and secretive about his past.

Word Count: 5.3k

Aliyah's Notes: after the calamity of ch5 i present u ch6.... enjoy it. or not. AND IM SORRY FOR THE ENDING 🔥😩😅😨

It's been days. Or weeks? You didn’t even know anymore. The calendar on my phone kept reminding me, but you stopped counting. Maybe if you ignored the world long enough, it’ll forget you existed. Maybe if you stayed in this apartment, you could disappear into these four walls like you were never here in the first place.

Numbers. You used to count them, obsess over them, keep track of every passing hour. But now, time feels... irrelevant. What’s the point of knowing how long you’ve been sinking when no one’s coming to pull you out?

The silence feels... safe. No one to judge you. No one to see the mess you’ve become. It’s funny, though—people always see what they want to see. The headlines called you a goddess, an untouchable force of beauty and success. But what would they say if they knew the truth? That the girl in their glossy magazines could barely stand to look at herself anymore.

You hated this. The lying, the pretending. Nina thought you were just going through a rough patch, but she didn’t know how deep the cracks went. It wasn’t supposed to be like this. You weren’t supposed to be this anymore—broken, fragile, teetering on the edge again. You swore you’d never come back to this place. But it’s funny how easy it is to fall back into old habits, how fast the darkness creeps in when no one’s watching.

No one’s watching.

Maybe that’s for the best. Let them keep seeing the version of you they wanted to see—the confident supermodel, the girl who had it all. Let them believe the lie, because the truth? The truth was ugly. The truth was you’ve been staring at your phone for days, hoping—no, needing—for a message, for something from him.

But nothing.

He was in Missouri. Working, you guessed. You didn’t even know when he was coming back. He didn’t say. 

You hated him for that. But you hated yourself more for caring. For letting him in, even when you knew better. For thinking, for just one second, that maybe—just maybe—there was something real between you, beneath all the lies you told the world.

But none of it was real. Not the dating, not the smiles, not the person they thought you were. You were a fraud. A perfect, golden fraud wrapped up in designer clothes and empty promises. And the worst part was, you were too tired to fight it anymore. Maybe this was who you were now. A girl who hid in her apartment, waiting for the world to forget she existed.

Or maybe it already happened.

The sound of the door creaking open started you, pulling you out of the spiral you’ve been sinking into. You didn’t even need to look up to know who it was. No one else had the key to your apartment beside her.

“Are you kidding me, Y/N?” Nina’s voice cut through the heavy silence like a knife. “This is the third time this week. How long do you think you can keep doing this?”

You didn’t respond.

Nina stromed in, slamming the door behind her, and you heard her heels clacking on the floor as she made her way to the living room. “You’re not answering your phone. You’re not responding to emails. You missed three shoots! People are asking questions, Y/N. What do you think I’m supposed to tell them?”

You stayed silent, curling deeper into the couch. Maybe if you didn’t look at her, she’ll go away. Maybe she’ll finally get the hint that you didn’t want to be saved.

But Nina wasn’t the type to back off. “No,” she snapped. “You don’t get to ignore me, not today. You need to get up. You need to fix this, Y/N. You think you can just hide away forever? Is that the plan? Because let me tell you, honey, the world won’t wait for you to get your shit together.”

She stood in front of you now, hands on her hips, glaring down at you like a disappointed mother. Her usually immaculate hair was slightly disheveled, and you could tell by the tension in her jaw that she’s been worrying. 

“Talk to me, honey,” she said, her voice lower now. “This isn’t you. You don’t just disappear like this. What happened? Is it Rafe? Is it work? Are you back to…” her voice trailed off, but the question hanged in the air, heavy and unspoken. 

You couldn’t look at her. The shame curled in your chest, making in hard to breathe. She didn’t know. She didn’t know how badly you’ve relapsed, how badly everything felt like it was slipping out of control again. And you couldn’t bring yourself to say it. Not to her. Not to anyone.

“When’s the last time you even showered? Eaten something decent? Your career’s on the line. Everything we’ve worked for is on the line. You can’t just… give up like this.”

Her words hit like slaps, each one stinging, but you still didn’t move. You couldn’t.

Nina huffed, pacing now, her frustration spilling over. “I don’t know what happened between you and Rafe, and honestly, I don’t care. But whatever it is, you don’t get to throw your life away because of it. You’re stronger than this, Y/N. I know you are. So why the hell are you letting this break you?”

You flinched at the word “break.” Because that’s what it feels like. Like you’re already broken, shattered into a million pieces, and you didn’t even know how to start putting yourself back together.

Nina crouched down in front of you, her voice softening, her eyes searching yours. “Talk to me, honey. Please. Tell me what’s going on. I can’t help you if you don’t let me in.”

For a moment, you almost did. You almost told her everything—the text, the relapse, the endless void you’ve been sinking into. But the words caught in your throat, choking you. What’s the point in talking when nothing will change?

You shook your head, your voice barely a whisper. “I’m fine.”

Nina’s eyes narrowed. “Don’t give me that bullshit. You’re not fine. You’re far from it. You think I haven’t seen you like this before? You’re not fooling anyone, Y/N.”

She stood, her frustration bubbling back to the surface. “You need to snap out of it. Because in five days, you’re getting engaged to Rafe Cameron, whether you like it or not. And a week after that, you’re walking down the aisle. You can’t afford to fall apart now.”

You swallowed hard, the weight of her words pressing down on you like a lead blanket. The engagement. The wedding. The lies. It all felt so suffocating, so inevitable.

Nina crossed her arms, her voice firm. “So here’s what’s going to happen. You’re going to get up, you’re going to shower, and you’re going to pull yourself together. Because tomorrow, you’ve got a charity event with Rafe, and you’re going to smile for the cameras and make everyone believe that you’re still that perfect, golden girl they love.”

You wanted to scream at her, tell her you couldn't do it, that you didn't even know how to pretend anymore. But instead, you nodded numbly, sinking deeper into the fog that had settled over your mind.

Nina sighed, her voice softening again as she headed toward the door. "I'll be back tomorrow morning. And I swear, Y/N, if you're still in this state when I get here, I will personally drag you to that charity event."

The door closed behind her with a soft click, leaving you alone with the weight of everything she'd just said.

You hadn’t slept. Not really. Just laid there, staring at the ceiling, trying to figure out how you were supposed to pretend like everything was fine when every part of you was falling apart. You could still hear Nina’s voice in your head, telling you to pull yourself together, to be the golden girl everyone expected you to be. 

You dragged yourself out of bed, your body heavy. Your legs felt weak, and your mind feltl worse. Everything was numb, but somehow you still felt the pain. You stumbled into the bathroom, turning the water on without thinking. The cold spray hit your skin like tiny needes, and you stood there for a while, trying to let the string wake you up. But it didn’t work—you were still in that fog.

When you finally stepped out of the shower, you didn’t even bother looking in the mirror. It didn’t matter. You grabbed the first thing you saw—a plain black sweater, loose and oversized, and a pair of jeans that didn’t quite fit right anymore. You didn’t even try with your hair, just pulled it back into a bun. No makeup. What was the point? It wasn’t like anyone cared what you looked like today.

When you got to the office, the tension hit you the moment you walked through the door. Your stomach twisted as you made your way down the hallway, each step heavier than the last. You could feel your pulse in your throat, your chest tightening with every breath. You shouldn’t have cared. You shouldn’t. But as you pushed open the door to the conference room and saw him sitting there—Rafe, looking like he hadn’t been bothered by a single thing—you felt the anger bubbling up, hot and sharp.

It started as a familiar ache that had been building ever since the night he walked out of your apartment without a word. Two weeks. Fourteen days of silence. Fourteen nights spent waiting for a text that never came, hoping for even the smallest explanation, something to make sense of the hollow space he’d left behind.

Day 1. Monday, 2:42 AM

You: “Hey. Are you home? LMK, just to be safe.”

Day 2. Tuesday, 8:18 AM

You: “I’m still so confused about what happened last night, but let’s talk when you have a minute.”

Day 3. Wednesday, 5.32 PM

You: “Look, if you’re mad at me, just say it! I thought we were good, what the hell?”

Day 4. Friday, 11:04 PM

You: “It’s been days and I still don’t understand why you left like this.”

Day 5. Sunday, 3:27 PM

You: “Fuck you. I don't know why I keep texting. I know you’re seeing my texts, even though I’m on delivered. Just tell me if you’re done with this.”

Day 5. Sunday, 10:41 PM

You: “Why am I acting like I’m the one who fucked up? I didn’t do anything wrong. You left me like I was nothing, and your only explanation was a shitty rom-com excuse. I thought we were friends, Rafe.”

Day 5: Sunday, 11:36 PM

You: “I hope you rot in your shit ass apartment, but trust that I will show up to one of your stupid games with a sign that says “Small Dick Ghoster” in big, glittery letters. And I hope Chiara will hug you so hard that she’ll end up strangling you to death. Fuck you, again!”

And there he was, sitting there like none of it had happened, like you were still just strangers playing a game. His posture relaxed, that effortless confidence radiating from him, his gaze fixed on the papers in front of him, completely indifferent.

It infuriated you—the ease with which he moved on, the way he could look so composed, so completely unbothered, as if he hadn’t abandoned you in that moment when you were raw and vulnerable. Like it meant nothing. Like you meant nothing.

Every part of you screamed to confront him, to demand an explanation for the silence, the absence, the complete disregard. You could feel the hurt clawing up from your chest, tangling with the anger that burned hotter with each passing second. He was so close, but somehow, he felt miles away.

So instead, you steeled yourself, locking down the hurt, burying it beneath the anger that simmered just beneath the surface. You wouldn’t let him see the effect he had on you, wouldn’t give him the power to know just how much his absence had shattered you. No—he would get nothing from you. Not a word, not a glance, not a single sign of the turmoil raging inside you.

You walked past him without a word, each step heavy with the weight of the anger you swallowed down. Let him sit there, pretending like nothing was wrong. Let him think he could ignore you, dismiss you, erase you from his life without consequence. Because you would make sure he felt every bit of the coldness he had left you with, every ounce of the hurt he’d carved into you.

Ignoring him was the only power you had left, the only way to keep the anger from spilling over, from breaking you down entirely. And if he thought he could continue on as if the past two weeks hadn’t happened, then he was going to learn just how wrong he was.

Nicolas cleared his throat, breaking the silence that had settled over the room. “Hi, you two—we’ve got a lot to go over, and the timeline is tight. The engagement is in five days, and the wedding is scheduled for a week after that. So we need to finalize the details today—food, decorations, dresses, the guest list…”

You couldn’t focus. The words blurred together a dull hum in the background as you stared down at the table. Rafe said something, his voice casual, but you tuned it out. You didn’t want to hear him.

Sabrina spoke next, her tone brighter, more enthusiastic. “The audience is really enjoying you together, by the way. Ever since your date, and especially after the pictures from Kelce’s party where you two were cuddled up? People are in love with the idea of you and Rafe together. So, good job, guys.”

Your stomach churned at her words. Cuddled up. Like you were some happy couple.

“And tomorrow,” she continued. “You’ll need to make another public appearance together. It’s a charity event for cancer awareness. A perfect opportunity for more good press. The public is expecting you two to show up as the perfect couple—affectionate, in love, all of that.”

In love.

You bit down on the inside of your cheek so hard you tasted blood. This was the part where you were supposed to smile and nod, agree to hold his hand and play the role of the devoted future fiancée. But all you felt was the tension building, the weight of the lie pressing down on you until it was suffocating.

Rafe shifted in his seat, and you could feel his eyes on you, but you still didn’t look at him. Rafe felt an uneasy twist in his stomach. You looked… different. Disheveled, almost. Your sweater hung losely over your shoulders, practically swallowing your frame, and he could see dark shadows under your eyes that hadn’t been there before. You seemed smaller somehow, your usual energy muted, replaced by something tense and fragile.

Rafe’s gaze dropped to your hands, noticing how your fingers fidgeted restlessly, twisting and tugging at your sleeves. Your leg was bouncing under the table, tapping out an anxious rhythm that only he seemed to notice. Every small movement, every nervous habit—you looked like you were holding yourself back, like there was something simmering beneath the surface, ready to break free.

You still hadn’t looked at him, hadn’t given him a single glance, and that bothered him more than he wanted to admit. You’d been messaging him, and he’d been… well, avoiding it, convincing himself it was for the best. But seeing you now, seeing the wear and tear he’d left behind, he couldn’t shake the guilt.

Rafe’s chest tightened. He’d expected you to be angry, maybe annoyed. But this? You looked worn down, frayed at the edges, like you've been carrying a weight no one else could see.

You didn’t remember most of the details they were talking about. Your mind drifted in and out of focus as they went on about the guest list, the food, the decorations. All you heard were words—dresses, flowers, venues. None of it felt real. It was as if you were watching someone else’s life unfold in front of you, just sitting there, an outsider in your own story.

“The wedding will be televised, of course,” Sabrina says, flipping through her notes, her eyes gleaming with the excitement of it all. “And with a full press presence. We want every detail to reflect both of your public personas. Elegant, grand, but also with an intimate, personal feel—something that tells a story about who you both are.”

Who we were. I almost laughed at the irony. I didn't even know who I was right now, much less who we were.

“We were thinking of something grand but elegant. A modern luxury wedding. White roses, lots of gold accents. Maybe something at the estate in the Hamptons?”

You glanced at the board, at all the glossy, pristine images of weddings that could belong to anyone. None of them felt like you.

“Do you have any preferences?” Sabrina asked, smiling like this is the most exciting conversation in the world. “Colors, themes, anything that’s important to you?”

"Actually," you finally broke your silence, your voice coming out quietly, but the words landing heavily in the room. "I’d like the ceremony to reflect... my background." You could feel Rafe's eyes on you again, but for once, you didn’t care. This wasn’t about him.

Sabrina blinked, taken aback, but she quickly nodded, jotting down notes as if she were open to whatever you had in mind. "Of course, that could be beautiful. Were you thinking about specific details?"

You hesitated for a moment, uncertain if they’d take you seriously, but you pressed on. "Yes. The colors… the decorations. I want there to be vibrant colors—not just whites and pastels, but deep greens, maroons, and gold. The way we’d have them back home. And for the flowers… jasmine and roses. That’s what we use for weddings where I’m from. I want it to feel like... like part of my heritage."

Nicolas raised an eyebrow, as if he hadn’t expected you to care about any of this. But he just nodded, his pen moving across his notepad. "We can definitely arrange that. A traditional, multicultural theme would add a unique touch to the event, I think. It’ll definitely resonate with the press and the viewers."

You didn’t care if it resonated. It wasn’t for them—it was for you, a sliver of authenticity in this whole farce.

Then Sabrina’s voice broke into your thoughts. "And of course, the dress. Have you given any thought to what you want? Or would you like us to arrange for a stylist to go over options with you?"

Your heart twisted at the mention of the dress. The one thing you’d always imagined as a girl—the dress you’d wear at your own wedding. Only, you’d never thought it would be for this.

"I’d like to include some of my culture there too," you said, your voice barely above a whisper. "Maybe... a fusion. Something elegant and modern but with hints of traditional South Asian bridal elements. Like embroidery or... beadwork. Maybe even henna if it wouldn’t look out of place."

Sabrina seemed to light up at the idea. "That would be stunning. We can definitely work with that! I know several designers who specialize in fusing traditional and contemporary styles."

She was still talking, but the air around you felt thicker, as though the room was closing in. You could sense Rafe’s gaze without even looking at him, the weight of his silence pressing into you.

You zoned out again, your mind wandering back to the last wedding you attended. The colors, the music, the way the bride’s lehenga shimmered under the sun as she walked down the aisle. You’d always thought your wedding would be like that—full of life and celebration, surrounded by people who loved you.

Instead, you were planning a wedding for the cameras, for people who didn’t know you.

The sudden, sharp knock on the door cut through the stillness like a jolt of cold water. Your head shot up from the pillow, heart hammering in your chest. For a moment, the world felt like it was still. The quiet of your apartment, the thick fog still clouding your thoughts. You didn’t want to get up. You didn’t want to face the world outside of this bed, this cocoon of emptiness you’d wrapped yourself in for days.

Another knock, this one louder, more demanding.

“Y/N!” Nina’s voice came through the door, sharp and impatient. “You better not still be in bed, because I swear—”

The door swung open before you could even make a sound, Nina storming in, wearing the same determined, unbothered expression she always had when she was on a mission. You tried to bury your face back into the pillow, but she wasn’t having it. Her hand reached down, grabbing the covers and yanking them off with force. You shivered as the cold air hit your skin, the warmth of the blankets yanked away along with any shred of comfort you’d been clinging to.

“Get up.” Nina wasn’t asking. She was commanding. “You’ve got a charity event today, and Rafe is already at the venue. We don’t have time for your pity party.”

You squinted at her, still half-wrapped in your sheets like a burrito, and mumbled from underneath the pillow, “Can’t you just… I don’t know… handle it for me? Go in my place. You’d look great in a gown.”

She cocked an eyebrow. “Oh, I’d look amazing, but you and I both know I don’t have that kind of charisma.”

“True,” you admitted, peeking out from under the pillow. 

Nina raised her hands in mock surrender. “Exactly. Now, up. I’m not playing with you today.”

Before you could even protest, she yanked the covers off you with a dramatic flourish, leaving you to shiver in nothing but your oversized T-shirt. It was a miracle you didn’t roll off the bed in the process.

“Come on, Y/N. Let’s go.” Nina didn’t wait for you to even get a grip on reality before heading straight for your closet, rummaging through your clothes like she was on a mission. “You’re going to look so good today that Rafe might just start thinking you actually like him.”

You shot her a glare that could’ve frozen water, but she just smirked, tossing a black dress onto the bed like she was some fashion fairy sent to save you from yourself.

“I’m not going,” you said flatly.

“Oh, yes, you are.” Nina threw a matching pair of heels onto the bed with the same casual flick of the wrist she used to dismiss your protests. “Because you will look stunning, and you will show up.”

You sat up slowly, rubbing your face. “What is it with you people? Why does everyone keep trying to drag me out of bed? It’s like I’m the world’s most reluctant celebrity.”

“Because you are.” Nina grinned, holding up your dress like she was presenting the Holy Grail. “But, hey, guess what? You’re really good at it. So stop sulking and get your glam on. You’re the star of the show today.”

You let out a theatrical sigh. “Oh, joy.”

Nina didn’t even flinch. “I’m not asking for a performance. Just put on the damn dress and show up. You can pretend to be miserable, and I’ll pretend I’m not a miracle worker for getting you out of here.”

You hesitated for just a moment, then dragged yourself out of bed with a grunt. “Fine.”

“Oh, by the way, Aisha’s going to be there. She practically begged me to make sure you show.”

Your eyes snapped open. Aisha Patel. Your best friend and, quite honestly, the only person in your life who could drag you out of bed with a single text. She’s been your best friend since you’d arrived in the States. She’d been away for five months—longer than ever before—working on some high-profile project in Switzerland. You hadn’t seen her in ages.

“You’re kidding,” you mumbled, sitting up and rubbing your eyes. “Aisha’s coming?”

Nina smiled smugly. “Yep. She’s flown back for the event. Can you imagine the drama if you don’t show up? She’ll never let you live it down.”

You sighed, a smile tugging at your lips. “God, I missed her.”

“Me too,” Nina said, her voice softening for just a second. “But you still have to get up. Like now.”

You looked at the dress Nina had already picked out, a sleek white gown that somehow made you feel both glamorous and like you were about to attend a royal gala. “Fine. I’m up. I’m dressed.”

Nina, who was already rummaging through your closet like a pro, grinned. “You look absolutely beautiful, honey,” she noticed your weight loss but decided to not speak on it, in fear it’ll make you relapse… if only she knew. “Chiara’s also going to be there...”

You froze, the mention of Chiara Romano sending a cold shiver down your spine. You’d told Nina everything about the Chiara encounter—her subtle digs, the way she made you feel like you were just another passing phase in Rafe’s life. She’d made things uncomfortable enough at Kelce’s party, and now you had to face her again?

“What? Fucking why?”

“Her father’s the one running the whole damn event,” she explained. “I’m surprised you haven’t heard of her or her family because they’re pretty famous, especially in the entertainment and events world. So, get ready for a day full of small talk, fake smiles, and people who will pry into your private life.”

You sighed. “How perfect is that?”

You stood in front of the mirror, trying to shake off the heavy weight of everything swirling in your head. You glanced at the clock. You were running out of time.

You reached for your hair tie, pulling it through your tangled locks. Your hair had grown longer than you remembered, and you decided to tie it up in a messy, yet elegant bun—one that would allow a few soft, curly strands to escape and frame your face. It was casual but chic—classic you. You let a few strands fall loosely, giving the bun a less formal, more effortless vibe. After a moment of satisfaction, you moved on to the makeup.

A soft, dewy glow covered your skin, nothing too dramatic. You didn’t want to feel caked in layers today, just enough to enhance your features. You applied a touch of blush to your cheeks, just a hint, to keep the look fresh. A thin line of mascara lengthened your lashes, and your signature lip combo was the finishing touch. Simple. Comfortable.

As you turned to check yourself one last time, you heard Nina's voice from the other room.

“Y/N! We need to go now. Rafe's texting me and he’s getting antsy. He’s apparently already at the event!”

You sighed, feeling the familiar rush of anxiety settle into your stomach. The mirror reflected a version of you that was ready for the world, but the world, especially tonight, wasn’t ready for this version of you. But as the pressure of the event built up, you couldn’t deny the uncertainty gnawing at you.

When you made your way into the living room, Nina was pacing, her phone glued to her ear. She shot you a quick, approving glance. “Looking good. Let’s go.”

As you grabbed your clutch, ready to face whatever tonight had in store, the doorbell rang. Your heart skipped a beat. Was it Aisha? Maybe she’d arrived early, wanting to meet up before the event?

But when you opened the door, your breath caught.

Standing in the doorway wasn’t Aisha.

It was Rafe.

He was in a suit—sharp, looking like he belonged in a magazine ad for high-end fashion—but his eyes, dark and intense, held something more than just a desire to impress. He had the look of a man who knew he had messed up.

His words hit you before you could even process them. “You look stunning. I wanted to make sure you’re okay... before all this.” The sincerity in his voice made your heart thump a little faster, and you hated yourself for it.

The words caught you off guard, and for a moment, you just stood there, blinking at him. You hadn’t expected him to show up—especially not with that kind of intensity in his eyes.

You exhaled slowly, your arms instinctively crossing over your chest, your posture defensive. The audacity of this guy.

“Really?” You scoffed, trying to mask the vulnerability creeping up your spine with sharp sarcasm. “Now you care?”

Rafe seemed to falter at that, but he quickly recovered, taking a small step closer, but not enough to make you feel cornered. “I’ve always cared, Y/N. You know that.” His voice was quieter this time, and the sincerity in his eyes almost made your resolve crack.

“Do I?” you shot back, stepping out of the doorway and giving him a once-over, your gaze icy. “Because you sure had a funny way of showing it.”

Rafe winced, a flash of guilt flickering in his eyes. He ran a hand through his hair, his jaw tight. “I messed up, okay? I should’ve reached out. I didn’t know what to say, but I should’ve just... shown up.”

You rolled your eyes, the anger simmering beneath your skin rising again. You could feel your heart pounding in your chest, not from the sight of him, but from the frustration that had been building over the past two weeks. “You didn’t know what to say? You think showing up fixes two weeks of silence? Just like that?”

He took a step forward, his face tightening, as though he was bracing himself for a confrontation. "I wasn’t sure what to do," he said, his voice lowering. "I thought... maybe you needed space. I thought if I gave you time, it would be better." He ran a hand through his hair, frustration clear in his expression. “I was trying to do the right thing.”

You stared at him for a long moment, the audacity of his words settling like a lump in your throat. “Space?” you asked, your voice low, incredulous. “You thought ghosting me for two weeks would give me space?” 

Rafe’s face twisted in guilt, but it didn’t matter. You weren’t going to let him off the hook.

“Did you at least see my texts?” you demanded, anger rising in your throat.

"Y/N, you’re needed at the car right now!" Nina called, stopping Rafe in his tracks of answering. Before you could walk away, Rafe reached out, his hand closing around your wrist, pulling you back gently.

"Wait," he murmured, his thumb brushing your skin.

You stared up at Rafe, your breath caught in your throat, uncertainty swirling in your chest. The air between you two felt charged, a thousand unspoken questions hanging in the balance. Your pulse was racing, but before you could voice any of them, Nina practically shoved you both into the elevator. Her hand pressed the button for the ground floor as she threw your heels at you, the sharp click of the stilettos punctuating the tension.

You caught them on instinct. The elevator descended, and your mind was still spiraling, trying to piece together what the hell was happening. What the fuck—this distance between you and Rafe? 

But just as the elevator doors opened, the sound of a familiar car door slamming outside caught your attention. A quiet thud, followed by the sound of heels clicking against pavement. Your instincts were on alert, an uneasy feeling crawling under your skin.

And when you turned to look, you saw someone stepping out of the car.

Someone who shouldn’t be here.

“I was wondering when we’d get the chance to catch up.”

chapter seven

[celuere]

I want you all over me.

pairing: feixiao x fem!reader

context: feixiao having never experienced a single mating cycle in her life was always something she has been relatively relieved about. That is until she met you

cw: feixiao has a dick here because I said so, breeding, mating press, feral feixiao, HSR didn‘t have any lore on how Foxians reproduce so I had to get creative, story takes place after she wiped the floor with Hoolay, biting 

First work on my iPad with the new bluetooth keyboard I ordered, truly a life changer. Not even my fever will stop me from writing Yuri. and also huge thanks to Ray for helping me with the gradient, not all heroes wear capes. Some of them are axolotls!

NSFW utc, MDNI!

Have you ever wondered if Foxians can enter a heat? Well, they do. Just not the way you think. There are a lot of factors that play an important role in a Foxians heat cycle.

For once their relationship status is a strong factor. Are they single, taken or even married? Are they happy in said marriage? Do they want to reproduce with their partner?

Then there is their age. A first Foxians heat cycle is usually triggered in the late 20s, some may experience it earlier, some later. There are even recordings of certain individuals not experiencing a single mating process in their entire lifespan, simply because they didn’t want to, have never found the right person and variety of other reasons. A Foxians urge to reproduce along with the frequencies of their cycles may decrease with age.

Now, once having lived through a mating cycle you are considered „Mature“. No, it doesn’t refer to your mental capabilities, it‘s simply the medical term for Foxians that can reproduce. Because until you didn’t live through at least one of these unbearable cycles, your ability to reproduce is -so the doctors call it- sleeping.

In the young days of the Xianzhou, where arranged marriages were still a thing, a certain medicine was to be used if one or both parties weren’t already mature to trigger their first heat, so they may produce an heir. That was until said medication was banned for good.

Once mature you only develop a steady, balanced heat cycle that may only occur when you’re in a happy, fulfilled relationship. A few may live through it two times a year, others every two months or even just once every year.

And during the actual thing? Unless not separated from their s/o, Foxians become extremely grumpy and frustrated, it‘s better to not bother them during this time. Just avoid them all together. They reach their breaking point once they’re reunited with their partner again. Be sure you won‘t be leaving the house or rather the bedroom for the next two or three days.

Feixiao usually was never bothered by the fact that she didn’t mature yet, never once was it a problem for her. Quite the opposite. Seeing how her Foxian friends and coworkers seemed to disappear off the face of society for a good few days actually relieved her. It meant no interruptions in her training schedule and left no room for distractions.

That was until you came along.

At first the general didn’t think much of it when you first started dating. She‘d touch herself to the memory of you, how good you‘d took her cock into your wet pussy last week, moaning and clawing into her trained shoulders as you begged for her to go faster. To fuck you harder.

She first didn’t think about how annoyed she got over the week because of the smallest thing, recruits being stupid, Jiaqou annoying her, she even gave Moze a whole earful when he tried his luck on her again. Only feeling better during the mornings and evenings she‘d spent with you in her arms. 

It reached a certain point on a Friday Night. Jingyuan sent her home after she almost lost her shit at Hana because of a simple misunderstanding from her side.

„Come back once you’ve calmed down.“, he said. 

The funny thing? Nobody was angry with her. Not Jingyuan. Not Jiaqou. Not Moze. Not Hana. Nobody. Everybody already knew what was going on with the Merlin‘s Claw. Except for the poor woman herself.

Or you.

Once Feixiao opened the door to your shared home and inhaled your scent, it‘s as good as over for the both of you. 

Poor you was just dusting off the shelves in the living room when your girlfriend practically threw herself right at you, hands clawing your shirt and pants right off of your body. Even your underwear covered too much for her liking. 

Her body felt too hot. The general had the impression she‘d burn to ashes from the inside out if she didn’t bury her already throbbing cock inside your cunt within the next moments.

„F-Fei, what- Hah!“, a bite mark on your most sensitive part on your neck never sounded better to her. 

She needed you carnally. Fucking wasn’t enough. She needed to breed you throughly until neither couldn’t think straight anymore. Until all that’s left inside of your spent pussy is her cum. 

„Quiet, darling.“, leaving your neck with a mark that will surely take on a pretty purple color during the next few days. Goodness, she might as well died without the tightness of your cunt.

In between the fog of clothes flying to the floor, sloppy kisses and Feixiao‘s growling right into your ear, you didn’t even notice when exactly she shoved her length into you. Suddenly she was all over you, inside you, digging her claws into your skin so she could drag you on and off her cock in a faster manner, soon forming creamy ring around her base that drove her close to madness. 

She wanted nothing more right now than for you to carry out her babies, the sheer thought only fuel to the fire that’s seemingly devouring her from the inside.

She didn’t try to angle her hips to hit your weak spot better, she didn’t care how you’re supposed to cover up the bite marks on your neck and shoulders, not even your beautiful tits were spared of her teeth.

„Fckin‘ take my cock into that pussy… g-get it all i-in there…“, she‘d mutter as she watches you melt over her for another time, your mixed juices oozing out on the sides whenever she‘d fuck back into you. That sofa will probably have to be replaced when she is done with you.

When your legs were pressed up against your chest that was probably the moment your soul disconnected from your body. Her using you more or less as a personal fleshlight was more than you could ever handle, even when she fucked her third load into your cunt, you just hoped she would keep on fucking out her heat with you.

If every cycle felt like this for her, Feixiao could only pray to Lan to be blessed by this amazing occurrence once every month. The warming sensation of your pussy tightening around her dick every so often, those pretty moans spilling out of your mouth with each time she rolled her hips against yours, only adding to the already torturous pressure against your cervix. She could go on like this for days. 

There was one time where she accidentally slipped out when pulling back, never in her life did something piss her more off than seeing her dick outside your cum-filled pussy. Her hands immediately went back around your hips and then she pushed herself back in. With one, smooth thrust you welcomed her back inside your warmth, that absolute guttural moan the both of you let out was surely to be heard outside by any random passerby.

But don’t think she will be done with you after a day. She‘ll make sure you fall asleep with your pussy warming her dick and she‘ll make sure you also get to wake up with it, only so she can mess you up all over again.

Maybe being mature isn’t so bad after all.

[postalignments]

Spreading this for my American followers! As an American myself, I know that things look hopeless, but we can get through this! If your education is limited, feel free to reach out to me for help with any math as long as it's algebra 1 or anything simpler than that (I'm still learning geometry). And I personally don't know much about the history they'll deem important to stop teaching, but I do know a lot of ancient history and mythology, so I can help with those on the chance that you need assistance.

Stay strong, everybody. It's in the Constitution (Amendment 22, section 1) that he can't serve any more terms after this. And to change the Constitution, you would need 2/3 of the Senate, 2/3 of the House, and at least 34 states to approve. Remember that out of over eleven thousand proposed changes to the Constitution, only 27 have passed this!

Study up on civics. Learn about your government. Find out why it works the way it does. Read the Constitution, it isn't that long. Know your rights. It'll be harder for them to violate our rights if we know we had those rights in the first place. These people thrive off the ignorance of the public. So don't be the ignorant public.

Learn to cook. Start biking or walking instead of driving if gas prices get too high, both to save yourself the expense and because we all know what excessive unnecessary driving does to the environment. Do everything you can to reduce your expenses if you must.

Women who think this will be needed, stock up on birth control and anything you can use for an abortion before Project 2025 bans it. Everyone, do research on Project 2025, as much as you can, find out how it will affect you and your loved ones (because unless you're a cishet middle or upper class white man, it will affect you), and take initiative to do as much as you can to prevent it in the time we have left.

We just need to push through for four more years. It sounds long, but trust me, it's not. Four more years, and we can attempt at fixing whatever he ruins. Hell, we can start now. Do whatever you can to fight this, and if we're relentless enough, they'll have to give in eventually. The one good thing about this country being run by old men is that as of 2021, the life expectancy for men in the U.S. is 73 years. They'll be gone soon. Let's outlive them so we can make a better America that will hopefully learn from its mistakes for once.

If by some miracle sweet potato Hitler doesn't win come the end of the week, this won't be necessary, but should he win here are some of the first things to be aware of or do.

If you know a trans person, no you don't. Respect them as best you can in private but you know nothing in public.

Be aware that TikTok will likely be banned, find new platforms to spread information. Fuck Twitter and what ever tiktok replacement he's working on.

Learn to Garden, even in winter so you can feed yourself should prices skyrocket

Get an air purifier. The Clean Air Act is likely to be stripped of its power with the EPA deregulated, air quality is going to suffer

Should you have kids, try to supplement history/social studies education. That's the first place they will attack, if you need help ask, history teacher will help

Try and do what you can to be aware of your health before January.

Help one another. That's the best way we can move forward and make change in the future.

[devotedlyandrogynousyouth]

OlderBF! Bruce Wayne

OlderBF! Bruce Wayne who gets so flustered by you before you start dating. Even just the little things, like you bringing him coffee of breakfast on your way in to work has him thinking about you. He didn't even have to ask.

"You really didn't need to bring me anything. Tell me how much I owe you and I'll add it to your next check."

He stops you with the slight raising of his hand before you even have the chance to protest.

"I mean it. I have more than enough money to spare."

OlderBF! Bruce Wayne who almost feels perverted when he asks you out for coffee before work. But the way your eyes light up aa you nod makes him forget all about it and instead focus on just how interesting your personality is.

"There's uh... There's this café I stop at in the mornings before I come in to work. You should stop by some time. My treat."

OlderBF! Bruce Wayne who gets hounded by the press as soon as they find out about your relationship. But as much as they call him 'old' and 'creepy,' you know that they don't understand. Besides, there isn't that much of an age gap between the two of you, anyway.

OlderBF! Bruce Wayne who makes you realize just how shitty other guys had treated you in the past. He was utterly shocked when you tried to pull out your wallet to oay on your first official date.

"You seriously think I'm letting you pay?" He asked after his initial moment of shock. "Darling-" he take one of your hands in his across the dinner table and presses a feather-light kiss to it. "You never have to pay when you're with me."

OlderBF! Bruce Wayne who is slowly gaining a dadbod, and it's the sexiest thing you've ever seen. Of course, he's still in peak physical condition, but his age is slowly catching up to him as he reaches his mid-fifties: the sparsely scattered greys in his hair and stubble are just further proof of that.

OlderBF! Bruce Wayne who hasn't lost his game in the bedroom and makes you feel things other men couldn't even imagine. He just keeps pulling orgasm after orgasm out of you and hasn't even thought about relieving himself.

"Just one more on my fingers, beautiful girl..." He whispers as his thumb rubs worshiping, languid circles onto your clit. "You can do that for me, can't you?"

OlderBF! Bruce Wayne who takes things so much slower than he did in his younger years. He didn't just fuck or have sex, he made love to you, and god, did he do it well.

"I love you." He whispers for what feels like the hundredth time with his face buried into your neck and shoulder, eyes screwed shut in utter ecstasy. His thrusts are slow and rhythmatic, lacking the frenzied rush many of his past lovers experienced in turn for the utter adoration and care he felt for you.

OlderBF! Bruce Wayne who loves you with everything he is and will do anything in his power to keep the darker parts of his life hidden away, even if it means lying to you.

[lipglossanon]

Our Lip Are Sealed

Brother-In-Law!Leon S. Kennedy x fem!reader

A Little More Savory tier commission from Anon 💜

Word Count: 2173 (I keep going over 😩 lol)

Warnings: 18+ MDNI, cheating, dirty talk, cucking (although the husband doesn’t know lol), breeding, size kink, breeding kink, kissing, fingering, squirting, unprotected sex, creampie

proofread ✍️

It’s another dumb family get-together hosted by your husband, which is basically an excuse for him to invite his brother and a few close cousins and get blackout drunk. This time, he uses the excuse of it being the holidays. 

“It’s the best time for families to come together!”

His exact words to you as the first of the invitees showed up at your front door. You’re honestly not surprised. It’s something you’ve come to expect from your husband. It’s put a strain on your marriage, although he somehow seems oblivious to it. The only person to lend you a sympathetic ear about the whole thing is your brother-in-law, Leon. 

He knows how much it bothers you, always giving you an empathetic smile once the drinking starts. You’ve noticed that he doesn’t drink as much when he’s around his brother—a fact that doesn’t go unnoticed by your husband. 

“What happened with you? Y’used to drink like a fish,” he laughs, face red. A few of the cousins chuckle along with him.

Leon shrugs with an easy grin in place, “Just like to take it easy these days. Enjoy the finer things in life.”

He shoots you a glance, and you go hot all over. Later, after everyone either passes out where they sit or go crashes in one of the guest rooms, Leon’s the last one standing to help you carry your lush of a husband to bed. 

Your heart races when Leon’s hand brushes across your lower back; it could be seen as an accident, just him trying to help his brother stagger along, but you know it’s more than that. Excitement thrills through your body, making you bite your bottom lip while you glance at Leon from under your lashes.

The first time anything illicit happened, it wasn’t even that bad. After helping your husband to bed, you sat on the couch with Leon and spilled your marital woes. He drew you in close, a sweet side hug, and the next thing you remember is grinding in his lap as you make-out on the couch. 

Since that time, your physical relationship has tipped over into the taboo; it’s a very well-kept secret between the two of you. No one suspects a thing—least of all your husband. As much as you hate the drinking and the constant informal parties, Leon makes the headache bearable. 

Dumping your husband on the bed, you turn him in his side to help prevent any choking if he happens to get sick later. Leon stands behind you, body heat a beacon against your back. 

He runs a hand down your arm. “You’re so gorgeous.”

“Leon,” you whisper urgently, eyes glued to your husband’s snoring face. “Wait until we leave.”

“Why? He won’t hear a thing,” he presses himself completely against you, rocking his bulge against the swell of your ass. “Gonna fuck you right here, sweetheart. Break this bed in.”

Slick coats the gusset of your panties, fabric sticking to the lips of your cunt. Biting your lip, you let Leon lead you around the edge of the bed until he’s pushing you down onto your side. 

He kisses you before slipping a hand under your dress to brush across your soaked slit.

“Fuck, so wet already. You want my cock?”

“Yes,” you whine. “Want it so bad.”

“Bet he doesn’t fuck you like you need, does he?” Leon goads, working your panties down and off your legs. “What a fucking loser.”

“Leon,” you gasp. “You shouldn’t say that about your brother.”

“Why? It’s the truth,” he cups your pussy, middle and ring finger parting your slick folds. “Too bad you married the wrong Kennedy, sweetheart.”

Whining softly, you roll your hips down into his hand, “Leon, please, just touch me.”

“I gotta finger this tight hole or ‘m not gonna fit,” he croons, fucking his fingers into your fluttering walls. “We both know this little pussy hasn’t had a cock this big.”

Keening in your throat, you ruck your dress up so Leon has easier access to the apex of your thighs. 

“Look at that pretty hole,” he groans, fingers seeking out the spot at the front of your cunt that makes you squeeze down on the digits. “Married pussy’s the best.”

“D-don’t say that,” your thighs twitch, arousal burning hot in your belly.

“Why not?” He grins, and it makes your heart race. “It’s true. You’re married, and you’ve got the best pussy I’ve ever had.”

Cunt squeezing down on his fingers, you tangle your fingers in the sheets, shooting a quick glance to make sure your husband is still passed out. 

“I can’t wait anymore,” Leon mutters to himself, fingers slipping from your wet heat with a wet schlick. 

His middle and ring finger are shiny with slick as he pops them in his mouth with a groan. “Taste so good, but I’m too impatient to lick you til you scream.”

You gasp, watching with dilated eyes while he takes his shirt off and pulls his jeans and briefs down to his thighs. The tip of his fat cock drips precum down the shaft, making your mouth water for a taste.

He grips the base and shakes his dick at you. “Look at you drooling over it. Bet you’d love if I fucked that sweet little throat. Don’t worry, one of these days, I’ll have you choking and gagging all over my dick.”

You nod along with his words, clit throbbing like a second heartbeat and pussy dripping slick all over your thighs. He’s big. Much bigger than your husband’s dick; it sends a pulse through your cunt, knowing he’s about to fill you up and stretch you out on his cock.

Kneeling in front of you, he humps your pussy, thick cock, sliding through your slick folds and across your clit. Whimpering, you part your thighs even further. 

“Please, Leon.”

His head presses against your hole but doesn’t sink in any further. He grips his cock and rocks the tip in and out of your cunt. 

“Am I gonna fit in this tight little hole, baby?” He mocks, slapping the fat head of his dick down onto your wet pussy. “God, I’m gonna stretch this little pussy out.”

Whimpering, your eyes dart over to your husband passed out on his side of the bed. Your marital bed is pretty big—he always complained about needing the space—and now you’re appreciating that fact more than ever. 

Leon clicks his tongue. “What a poor, frustrated little pussy. She’s crying she needs my cock so bad.”

Choking out a moan, your head thrashes back and forth against your pillow while Leon sinks his thick cock inch by inch in your snug pussy. 

“Fucking hell, he’s not been giving it to you, has he?”

“Uh uh,” you hiccup a whine. “You’re too big. It hurts.”

“Aww,” he leans forward, bottoming out in your pussy with a grunt. “We’ll just have to get this hole used to being so full. Doesn’t that feel good?”

Your pussy flutters and pulses around his cock, slick coating his length. “Fuck, it’s so big.”

“Yeah, it is,” he chuckles before kissing your temple. “And your married pussy is a perfect fit. So snug and wet.”

Covering your mouth with your hand, you cry out against your palm as Leon begins to fuck you with hard, deep strokes. Eyes rolling back in your head and toes curling in pleasure, you rock your hips against his thrusts, pussy gripping his cock like a vice. His pelvis grinds against your clit every time he bottoms out in your cunt. 

It’s so unfair how good this feels—knowing your husband’s right next to you as his brother pounds into your needy pussy. The pleasure crests higher and higher, body jostling with the movement so hard your tits bounce underneath your dress.

“I’m gonna cum inside you,” he whispers, grinning down at you, sweat darkening his fringe. “Cum all inside this cheating slutty pussy.”

“No!” Your voice cracks. “You can’t! What about m-my husband?”

“What about him?” Leon swivels his hips, the fat tip of his cock rubbing against your g-spot hard enough to make you squeal. “You’re fucking gagging to have me stuff you. You love my cock rawing this sweet little puss.” 

“Noo,” you cling to his biceps, fingers digging into his skin.

“Fine,” he sighs. “I guess I’ll just pull out and—“

You tangle your hands in his hair and bring him closer for a dirty, tongue-filled kiss, pussy walls gripping his dick tightly. 

“Please, don’t,” you whine. “Want your cock, want you to cum in me.”

“Fuck, baby, gotta keep quiet,” Leon laughs in your ear, dick slowly rutting in and out of your squelching cunt. “This fat pussy’s so loud, gonna get us caught.”

“Leon,” you whine, nails digging into his bare shoulders. He hisses in pleasure, thrusting harder into your clenching heat. “Feels so good, can’t help it.”

“Yeah? This tight pussy just can’t stop creaming my cock, can she?” He coos in your ear, lips nipping at your lobe. “Want me to put a baby in this cheating pussy?”

Eyes fluttering closed, you moan loudly, legs wrapping around his waist to lock behind his back. “Oh, please, want you to knock me up.”

“Hell yeah, I’ll breed this hot little pussy,” he groans, moving up onto outstretched arms. His hips roll against yours, cock plunging deeper into your dripping hole. “Gonna blow my load in your greedy cunt til it takes.”

Pulling out suddenly, he grips your hips to manhandle you over onto your front. He yanks your ass back, pressing his palm on your shoulders to push your head onto the pillow. His cock bullies back into your sopping wet pussy, the sound—plap plap plap—filling the bedroom. 

You moan into your pillow, drool soaking the material as Leon rails you into the bed you share with your husband. 

He slows his pace, dragging his dick halfway out before sinking back in. “Which cock’s better, mine or my brother’s?”

“Huh?” Your brain is mush at this point, your thoughts concentrating on cumming all over his cock while he creampies you. 

“I said which cock is better,” he thrusts deep enough the tip bumps your cervix, making you moan weakly. “Mine or my brother’s?”

You stumbled over your words, not able to think when he reaches under your body to play with your clit. 

“Better question,” he purrs into your ear, “which cock do you love? Hmm? The one that makes you cum? The one that’s gonna breed this fat pussy til she’s pregnant? Or…”

He pulls out, and you whine while he smacks his wet cock against your ass, “Some fucking cuck who passes out while his brother dicks down his wife?”

“What’s it gonna be, baby?” He teases the tip in and out, in and out, until you finally press your ass back against him. 

“Yours, Leon,” you nearly sob when he fucks his cock back into your cunt. “Love your cock, s’the only one that makes me cum.”

He humps your ass, dick pounding at your drippy hole. “And? C’mon, what else?”

“A-and it’s the only cock I want to creampie my pussy,” you mewl, thrusting back against him. “Please, Leon, want you to cum in me. Cum in my cheating little pussy til you knock me up.”

“Goddamn,” he groans, fucking you so hard and fast the bed shakes. “Good fucking girl, gonna breed this needy pussy, gonna knock up my brother’s wife—fuck!”

He slips his hand around your hip and begins rubbing your slippery clit in quick circles. 

“Cum for me, want this slutty pussy creaming my cock so I can fill her up,” he bites the shell of your ear. “Cum for me, so I can give you a baby.”

He slaps your clit with the flat of his fingers, and it pushes you over the edge, climax overtaking your body. You squirt, slick gushing from your hole to coat his pelvis and run down your thighs. 

“Fucking hell, that’s it, baby, show me how much this pussy likes my cock,” Leon moans. 

You shake and scream, burying your face in the pillow to muffle the noise. Fireworks explode behind your eyes while your pussy milks his cock over and over, dripping slick all over the two of you. 

“That’s it, fuck, gonna breed you nice and deep like I promised,” Leon curses under his breath and thrusts a few more times against you before sinking to the hilt. 

Hot, thick spurts of cum fill your fluttering walls until it spills out around his cock. Rutting against your ass, he grinds his cock in your pulsing cunt. After a few minutes, he takes in a deep breath and pulls out with a low groan. You lay there, panting heavily into your pillow, body completely spent. 

He smacks the head of his cock against your sensitive and puffy cunt, “Since this naughty little pussy is just leaking out all my cum, guess I’ll have to stuff it again.”

[horsefreek151]

The 2004 election was during the first year of my fathers National guard deployment to Iraq.

We didn't support the war.

My dad was a middle school computer teacher who's favorite past time was running the school tech for all of there shows. He joined the National Guard to pay for school. For a teaching degree in English. He was the Jewish father of four who wouldn't hurt a fly. My baby brother was born on Katrina two weeks before he was deployed to training in the state of Georgia. They didn't take the 3 hundred Minnesotans to go help with the relief efforts for one of the worst hurricanes in American history, they just sent them to train for war.

That election we were desperate for a democrat in power. We protested the war and wanted peace, we wouldn't get it. I remember being given blue and red crayons and filing in the states as they were called and at about 11 aclock at night my mother made us go to bed because she saw the blood in the water, most of my map was red and it was over we were going to be dealing with four more years. My dad wasn't coming home any time soon.

He was deployed for 1 year and 11 months. There were two separate extensions to the deployment cause they couldn't replace his group. The person who came back wasn't my dad anymore, he was a stranger. Not because he had changed, but because we both had and he was never going to put the effort in to make up for leaving us. For leaving me. To fight a war he didn't agree with, for what he thought was good reasons. After that deployment (and during if honest) my mother started mentally abusing me, and my father neglecting me. The work as a third parent stayed from the deployment and would never be acknowledged and eventually used to gaslight me in my teen years. It was the start of hell.

I survived that.

I survived 2016.

I can survive 2024. Im gonna keep living my life. My resistance as a Disabled Trans Queer person will be surviving.

So, I guess as a middle range millennial, I now get to tell all you young queer kids that what you are feeling right now is exactly how it felt in 2004 when we re-elected George Bush, and not only that but many states put in bans against gay/same sex marriage at the time.

This is probably not comforting, but it is true, and it helps me when I feel hopeless: For every revolution there is a counter revolution, for every step forward there is a step back, that things may not be good forever but they will not be bad, either. That we clawed our way to get where we are and we can claw our way forward from here, too. Talk to your queer elders, the ones who have been here before and will be here again and who threw bricks at Stonewall.

When I was a child, if you got AIDS it was a death sentence. Now it isn't. Now you live on.

So I'll quote angels in america: You are fabulous creatures, each and every one. And I bless you: More Life. The Great Work Begins.

[flemingology]

kitbag chronicles ─ alessia russo x reader

in which: you voice your love for alessia through the notes you put in her kitbag

warnings: none, tiniest bit suggestive if you squint

wc: 1.4k

a/n: finally got around to writing something for my number 1. this is so incredibly random and it's all over the place, but idk i lowkey kinda like it... i think? idk i probably shouldn't reread it because i might hate it if i do. hope you enjoy!

Ever since you and Alessia started dating, the England striker had made it very clear that she loved the little things you did for her. Memorising her coffee order, remembering her favourite flowers, new scented candles in her favourite scent on a bi-weekly basis. If you asked Alessia, she would say you were the most thoughtful person she’d ever met.

You’d grown to love the smile you put on your girlfriend’s face with those small displays of affection. You were forever seeking new ways to show your love for her, without stating the obvious over and over again. It kept both of you on your toes, always working on your relationship and making the other fall in love with you over and over again.

The last couple weeks, you'd found something new to do for Alessia. Her busy schedule keeping her away from you almost every single day of the week, you had to find ways to work around it and to remind Alessia that, even when she was at the club, you were thinking about her.

Since a couple months, it had become a little tradition that you prepared Alessia's kitbag. It wasn't much work at all, all she put in there were a shirt and a pair of trousers, or shorts – based on what the weather was like that day in London. You insisted that you did it for her, claiming that that way you felt like she had a little part of you with her during the day.

Today, though, you felt like trying something different. When you were younger, your mum always prepared your lunchbox for when you went to school. To make it a little extra special, she always added a little note for you to discover when you had lunch. It could be something funny, a drawing or simply a reminder how much she loved you – you didn't mind the teasing that came with it from your friends.

You figured it would be something Alessia loved, seen how much she usually liked it when you did little things like that for her. So this morning, after putting the blonde's training top and trousers in her kitbag, you grabbed a note and started writing something down. You decided to keep it simple for your first time of doing this, something you knew would just give Alessia a little spring in her step for the rest of the day. "Go get em, Lessi. Can't wait to have you home with me again tonight," is what you decided on, quickly putting away the pen and putting the piece of paper in her bag before she could see what you were up to.

When Alessia left later that morning, you pushed her kitbag in her hands, as you did every day. With a sweet, lingering kiss to your lips and a quick hug, she was out the door with the promise of cooking together later that night. Love goes through the stomach, or whatever they say.

It was no longer than 30 minutes later when your phone chimed with a message from your blonde lover.

From: Less 🤍 I got the note, baby. So cute. I love you so much :')

You smiled brightly at your phone screen, a warm, fuzzy feeling coursing through you at the idea of Alessia opening her kitbag and finding the note. You quickly typed a message back to her, wanting her to read it before she inevitably had to get her day going at the training centre.

To: Less 🤍 It's true, though. Counting down the hours until you're home, like every day. Go kick ass, my love. x

With you working from home, it had been quite the adjustment. Normally, when Alessia went to the training centre, you'd also leave the apartment and be on your way to your office. But with Alessia's recent transfer to Arsenal, swapping Manchester for London, it wasn't so straightforward anymore for you to go into the office everyday. 2 hours 30 on the train or easily 4 hours by car, it just wasn't doable anymore for a daily job. So you and your boss agreed that you could work from home in London, with one visit to the office a month. You were forever grateful for the opportunity, very glad that you didn't have to find a new job in London, but it brought its hardships too.

Quite frankly, you grew quite bored at home. You had your work, and you always managed to fill the best part of 8 hours with whatever you had to do that day, but the house felt empty without Alessia. A new city, new surroundings, new apartment, you hadn't quite accustomed to it all yet and you hadn't failed to make it known to Alessia that you missed her terribly whenever she was out at training.

Nonetheless, you would never stand in the way between her and her career, it was just another obstacle that you two would have to face and manoeuvre around, but you were certain that you would navigate it perfectly. You had a strong relationship, and everyone around you would probably say that you were made for each other.

With the knowledge gathered that Alessia enjoyed her little note, you took it upon yourself to give her some more frequently. Not every day, because you didn't want her to grow old of them, but you sprinkled some in throughout the week – keeping her on her toes.

It wasn't until one particular morning at the Arsenal training centre that Alessia realized that her notes wouldn't just always be you loving up on her. She'd left you high and dry that morning before leaving, feeling you up and kissing all over your body until her alarm went off. She was reluctant about finishing what she had started, despite your whining when she left you alone in bed and had started getting ready for her day. She didn't want to be late, understandably, but she also left you with a very uncomfortable throbbing between your legs. Her promise of continuing her ministrations later that night hadn't really convinced you, and you decided to tease her a little about it through a note.

This time, unlike all the other times you'd left a note in Alessia's kitbag, you didn't receive a message about. Not just that, the Arsenal striker hadn't texted you all day and you couldn't help but feel a little self-conscious about what you did. You didn't want to push it too far, but you were starting to feel like you did. You texted her a little after lunch-time, wishing her a good gym session, but you got left on read.

Later that day, when Alessia came home, you were nervous to approach her. You were upstairs, finishing up on a couple of e-mails, before you went downstairs and joined the blonde who had plopped down on the couch and turned on the football. "Hi, baby," you said softly, pressing a kiss against her cheek. Alessia tried to put on a sour face, but her resolve weakened quickly when you pressed another few kisses all over her face.

"That was mean, you know?" cocking her head at you, eyebrow raised and index finger pointing at you. You couldn't hide the smile that crept on your face. "Don't give me that, Russo! If anyone was mean, it was you. This morning. Leaving me all worked up like that," you reasoned, pointing your index finger right back at her, poking her nose in the process causing a small smile to form on her lips.

"You know what, you're probably right," your girlfriend started, leaning closer towards you and trapping your body in between her arms, positioning the two of you so she was hovering over you on the couch. "That was so incredibly unfair of me and I think it's only right that I get the opportunity to make it up to you."

Alessia dipped her head towards your neck and started pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses on the skin there. You hummed and tangled one of your hands into her hair, slightly tugging when you could feel the scrape of her teeth on your sensitive skin. "You're lucky I love you, Russo," you breathed.

"Oh, I know. Now let me show you just how much I appreciate you, please."

[coollizzylou]

Everyone’s correct in saying that now more than ever we need to be building our communities, but it can be difficult to know what that actually *means*, especially in our isolating society. So here’s some straightforward practical advice I’ve learned over the few years I’ve been organizing in my own life.

You do not have to reinvent the wheel.

There are people who have been fighting this fight for decades. You are not starting from scratch. You do not have to do it all by yourself. All you have to do is find your allies and engage.

On the ground resistance movements/aid organizations that have legs under them may not have much of a social media presence. You may have to do some legwork find your place.

Check the local papers if you have one for your area. Sign up for your city government newsletter. Go to the library and ask what events are being hosted. Check Churches! Schools! Small businesses! Ask your local old ladies!!!! They have time on their hands and know what’s going on in their communities.

It’s ok if you don’t know anything. Listen to the people around you, ask questions, be respectful and curious. Just show up!! As you do this, you will learn more about the place you’re in and the people that live there. Those people will guide you, and there’s a non-zero chance that you’ll find a mentor willing to take you under their wing.

The logistics make the movement.

Demonstrations are important and powerful, but they are NOT the be all end all. Not even close.

There are people who’s job it is to take notes, people who host meetings, and people who pick up snacks. Some folks are especially good at getting the word out through tabling and canvasing, others are better at making the pamphlets that get handed out. You could be in charge of carrying heavy boxes of donated food, or you might be better suited preparing a hot meal sitting at the table. Are you able to watch young children? Drive carpool?

All of these tasks and more are essential to maintaining a healthy community group. Don’t be afraid to try new things and experiment to figure out where you can do the most good.

Your stories are your power

One of the most effective tools in your arsenal are your testimonies. When shared with friends they remind us we are not alone in our struggles. When shared with adversaries, they are undeniable proof of our humanity. You can quote facts and statistics all day, but a personal experience will always punch above it’s weight.

Think over your life and explore questions of what your personal stake in the game is. What about your life makes you want to fight. Really dig in deep. This can be uncomfortable. I recommend doing this among friends and being gentle with yourself. You don’t have to have any particularly special reason. This isn’t supposed to be performative. You aren’t trying to get a good grade in leftism, your goal is to identify your self interest. For example, I first got involved with the tenet union because I wanted to go to college in the city but knew I couldn’t afford to live there. I first got involved with planned parenthood because I was scared when Roe v Wade overturned. These are selfish reasons, they have to be for this to work.

With that information, you are prepared to sit with other people and ask them the same thing. If you are open and willing to listen to people’s stories, a casual conversation can lead to strong bonds of friendship. And when you’re friends with someone, you fight for them. This is the core of relational organizing.

There is joy here

Organizing can be difficult. Many things are in life. But from personal experience I can tell you that not only is this work worth it, but it can be *fun*. You can sing and dance and play music and scream and laugh and you’ll do it all together. Hold onto your hope, find your joy where you can, and take the plunge. You’ll be better for it, I promise.

[reasonsforhope]

"As a Deaf man, Adam Munder has long been advocating for communication rights in a world that chiefly caters to hearing people. 

The Intel software engineer and his wife — who is also Deaf — are often unable to use American Sign Language in daily interactions, instead defaulting to texting on a smartphone or passing a pen and paper back and forth with service workers, teachers, and lawyers. 

It can make simple tasks, like ordering coffee, more complicated than it should be. 

But there are life events that hold greater weight than a cup of coffee. 

Recently, Munder and his wife took their daughter in for a doctor’s appointment — and no interpreter was available. 

To their surprise, their doctor said: “It’s alright, we’ll just have your daughter interpret for you!” ...

That day at the doctor’s office came at the heels of a thousand frustrating interactions and miscommunications — and Munder is not isolated in his experience.

“Where I live in Arizona, there are more than 1.1 million individuals with a hearing loss,” Munder said, “and only about 400 licensed interpreters.”

In addition to being hard to find, interpreters are expensive. And texting and writing aren’t always practical options — they leave out the emotion, detail, and nuance of a spoken conversation. 

ASL is a rich, complex language with its own grammar and culture; a subtle change in speed, direction, facial expression, or gesture can completely change the meaning and tone of a sign. 

“Writing back and forth on paper and pen or using a smartphone to text is not equivalent to American Sign Language,” Munder emphasized. “The details and nuance that make us human are lost in both our personal and business conversations.”

His solution? An AI-powered platform called Omnibridge. 

“My team has established this bridge between the Deaf world and the hearing world, bringing these worlds together without forcing one to adapt to the other,” Munder said. 

Trained on thousands of signs, Omnibridge is engineered to transcribe spoken English and interpret sign language on screen in seconds...

“Our dream is that the technology will be available to everyone, everywhere,” Munder said. “I feel like three to four years from now, we're going to have an app on a phone. Our team has already started working on a cloud-based product, and we're hoping that will be an easy switch from cloud to mobile to an app.” ...

At its heart, Omnibridge is a testament to the positive capabilities of artificial intelligence. "

-via GoodGoodGood, October 25, 2024. More info below the cut!

To test an alpha version of his invention, Munder welcomed TED associate Hasiba Haq on stage. 

“I want to show you how this could have changed my interaction at the doctor appointment, had this been available,” Munder said. 

He went on to explain that the software would generate a bi-directional conversation, in which Munder’s signs would appear as blue text and spoken word would appear in gray. 

At first, there was a brief hiccup on the TED stage. Haq, who was standing in as the doctor’s office receptionist, spoke — but the screen remained blank. 

“I don’t believe this; this is the first time that AI has ever failed,” Munder joked, getting a big laugh from the crowd. “Thanks for your patience.”

After a quick reboot, they rolled with the punches and tried again.

Haq asked: “Hi, how’s it going?” 

Her words popped up in blue. 

Munder signed in reply: “I am good.” 

His response popped up in gray. 

Back and forth, they recreated the scene from the doctor’s office. But this time Munder retained his autonomy, and no one suggested a 7-year-old should play interpreter. 

Munder’s TED debut and tech demonstration didn’t happen overnight — the engineer has been working on Omnibridge for over a decade. 

“It takes a lot to build something like this,” Munder told Good Good Good in an exclusive interview, communicating with our team in ASL. “It couldn't just be one or two people. It takes a large team, a lot of resources, millions and millions of dollars to work on a project like this.” 

After five years of pitching and research, Intel handpicked Munder’s team for a specialty training program. It was through that backing that Omnibridge began to truly take shape...

“Our dream is that the technology will be available to everyone, everywhere,” Munder said. “I feel like three to four years from now, we're going to have an app on a phone. Our team has already started working on a cloud-based product, and we're hoping that will be an easy switch from cloud to mobile to an app.” 

In order to achieve that dream — of transposing their technology to a smartphone — Munder and his team have to play a bit of a waiting game. Today, their platform necessitates building the technology on a PC, with an AI engine. 

“A lot of things don't have those AI PC types of chips,” Munder explained. “But as the technology evolves, we expect that smartphones will start to include AI engines. They'll start to include the capability in processing within smartphones. It will take time for the technology to catch up to it, and it probably won't need the power that we're requiring right now on a PC.” 

At its heart, Omnibridge is a testament to the positive capabilities of artificial intelligence. 

But it is more than a transcription service — it allows people to have face-to-face conversations with each other. There’s a world of difference between passing around a phone or pen and paper and looking someone in the eyes when you speak to them. 

It also allows Deaf people to speak ASL directly, without doing the mental gymnastics of translating their words into English.

“For me, English is my second language,” Munder told Good Good Good. “So when I write in English, I have to think: How am I going to adjust the words? How am I going to write it just right so somebody can understand me? It takes me some time and effort, and it's hard for me to express myself actually in doing that. This technology allows someone to be able to express themselves in their native language.” 

Ultimately, Munder said that Omnibridge is about “bringing humanity back” to these conversations. 

“We’re changing the world through the power of AI, not just revolutionizing technology, but enhancing that human connection,” Munder said at the end of his TED Talk. 

“It’s two languages,” he concluded, “signed and spoken, in one seamless conversation.”"

-via GoodGoodGood, October 25, 2024

[mysteria157]

Undone

nanami kento x black fem reader

wc- 2.8k

warnings- angst, heavy themes, mental health and healing, the fluff that nanami brings.

a/n: I have been feeling like poo these past few days and trying to find my voice in writing. So I created a little drabble that helped me feel better. hopefully, it does for others as well. happy reading

divider: @saradika | JJK Masterlist

He hasn’t heard from you in days.

Granted, that first date was 12 weeks ago, but Nanami is used to the string of texts between you that is consistently pinging—a feat that Nanami never thought to reach. He’s used to the late night phone calls, the FaceTimes that are meaningless because he just wants to look at you. But for the first time, you turned him down.

Three days ago, on the morning of a nice dinner he had planned, you called with a scratchy voice, “I’m just really tired today, but I’ll be shipshape in no time!” You had insisted.

With vigilance sewn into his body since the day he could remember, Nanami notices right away something is wrong. Maybe it was the distant crack of your words. Maybe it was the fact that you cleared your throat once, no—two times to make yourself sound as professional as possible. As if Nanami is an employer and not the man you’ve decided to let into his life.

Regardless, he was as polite as always. Content to change the subject and send you well wishes before hanging up. The meme texted to his phone five minutes later, sweetening whatever sour concoction had manifested in his belly from your phone call. But still…Nanami knows. So he waits.

He waits three days of agonizing silence before a maelstrom of worry finally claws its way to the surface of his pool of impassivity. He stops by the market first and grabs ingredients. There’s a soup recipe you love—a recipe he soaked up like a sponge as he hovered near you in your kitchen during your first date. He’ll make that.

On his way out of the market, his eyes catch a bouquet of Asian lilies. Sunset orange petals adorned with long dark stamen. He picks up a modest bouquet—something large enough to make you smile every time you see them, but not too much to make you sneeze from your allergies.

It’s 6:47 PM when Nanami’s shoes touch your welcome mat. Even as his eyes trace the tawny ‘Welcome!’ made of coir, he can feel the unease wafting from behind your closed door. Your spare key rests in his closed hand, the metal digging into his palm in a silent question. You insisted that it wasn’t too soon in the relationship for this, to have access to each other in this way. After all, finally opening his heart to love after keeping it locked behind the demands of work, Nanami wanted to take things slowly. But you had other plans—you always do. And now, Nanami is glad to have relented so quickly when you gave him the spare key two weeks ago.

You’re a tidy person, meticulous to a fault. So it’s easy for him to spot the littering of disarray. The curtains are drawn tight, casting your home into darkness. A trail of clothes starts from the door and trails to your room. There are dirty dishes in your sink—you hate going to bed with a messy kitchen. The air is permeable—a physical being that Nanami can see the particles as they float and scurry with his movements through your home.

He finds you in your room, a tornado of dirty clothes and empty takeout containers, three blankets deep, with only the top of your hair visible. The air is just as stale in here—heavy with the kind of silence that comes to life from too many hours alone with dark thoughts. Your phone lies on your nightstand, face-down, notifications from others probably neglected along with Nanami’s. He hates the sight, angry at whatever malevolent force that’s decided to torment you, and now he fights it.

The rustle of Nanami setting his things down makes you stir, the lump of covers oscillating with your movements as a flash of your melanin-rich skin pokes from the dark hole where you reside. Your eyes meet his—surprised, alarmed, and immediately angry.

“Get out,” you snap, your voice gravelly from disuse. Through the curtain of your textured hair, Nanami catches a sliver of your icy gaze, foggy with the heaviness he can smell in the room. He takes a step closer, and it’s a step too far. Your tired eyes widen with a simmering fury that makes Nanami think twice.

“Why can’t you listen?! You can’t be here…” you stop short, squeezing the covers around your already decaying form like a lifeline. “Not when I’m—like this.”

He takes another cautious step—your eyes narrow, a weak challenge—then another until he sits at the edge of your bed. The dip from his weight causes your feet to curve into the cavern, toes touching his thighs from beneath your covers.

“Why didn’t you call me?”

The still air seems to vibrate from your fury, dust motes zipping haphazardly as if being pulled back and forth by an invisible force.

“Call you? Call you?? So you could see this? So you could see how I can’t even—“A lump of confusion and rage dies in your throat, the sound gurgling like a sewage pipe. His hands clasp the blanket that covers your shoulders, pulling you up gently with no resistance. You want to smack his hands away, to yell at him to leave and never come back. Because you’re not ready for him to see you like this. Not yet.

But despite the bark of your bite, you’re exhausted—mentally and physically.

“I wanted to wait a few weeks,” you ramble, eyes turned away from him as you shiver from the cold air on your exposed upper half. You’re still wearing the same shirt from three days ago when you called Nanami to cancel; your eyes had already been filled with tears, your throat suffocating beneath torrential thoughts and negativity that springs to life when you least expect it.

“No one wants to see this so soon.”

“From that statement alone, I’m going to assume the men you dated before were below average in all respects.”

“Everyone expects some grandiose gesture to make all of…this go away. And it’s not that fucking simple.” You don’t acknowledge his assessment. Still rambling, still trying to push him away even as he stands. He pulls you up with him with a firm grip still on your shoulders, his care poking at your defenses with inquisitive fingers.

Your knees buckle, threatening to give out without the reassurance of his hold. Your rambling falls to the wayside, fading into the air around you as you finally comprehend your new position in front of him. Standing for the first time in days, the strength of his hands radiates warmth down to your toes. The room falls quiet, opening its ears to your uneven breathing and the smell of tears.

One beat. Two beats. Three.

“It seems you’re standing now,” he says simply, the low crooning timbre of his voice wafting over your face. You heave in a stuttering breath, suck down his air, and let it fill you from the inside with care you’ve neglected. Nanami doesn’t leave his words open for discussion. There is no question hidden in his matter-of-face statement. There is no undercurrent of judgment.

“A bath.”

“What? Kento—no. I don’t need—I don’t deserve—“ His hand slides from your shoulder to cup your cheek, silencing you with its warmth. You resist leaning into his touch, too embarrassed that he can see you like this—stinky, tired, so utterly crestfallen that you can barely function.

“I’ll draw you a bath. I’ll make you dinner. And once I’m sure you’re at least full and clean, then I’ll go. Until you’re ready for me again.”

Steam rises around you in the bathroom, carrying eucalyptus and lavender from the bath oils you like to indulge in on a terrible day like this one. You draw your knees up to your chest, wrapping your arms around your limbs to bury your head in the gap it creates. Your eyes catch the water droplets on your skin, hydrophobic and suspended in time before sliding into the bath water.

When you turn your head to the side, you catch your living room from the open door. He’s cleaned up—opened the curtains, picked up the laundry, and vacuumed the floors. One of your candles burns bright, the low whir of your washing machine sashaying through the apartment. All things you just haven’t had the energy to do.

It started off small, it always does. One thought—fleeting and infinitesimal—but still heavy with a nervousness that plants in your mind like a maggot, burrowing its way through the meat. Your symptoms are more anxious thoughts, more poor remarks of yourself, more he’s successful who are you kidding? More maybe they don’t like you, why can’t you see that? More once Kento sees this side of you, he’ll never want you again.

More, more, more even though those thoughts hold little evidence to prove true. But for you, those maggots burrow until there is nothing left of you but a hollow shell, a husk that has no choice and no energy but to lay down in bed and sleep the days away until the meat heals again.

Beneath the steam, you can spell the mix of thyme, peeled tomatoes, and garlic. The tomato soup you showed him how to make on your first date. He was inquisitive, watching silently, his eyes falling on yours too often to take good notes. Now, it’s another show of this man you’re growing to love, crafting something for you with his own hands, affection beneath the veil of reservation that he shows everyone else.

It’s too much for you. The tears come quietly, spilling down your cheeks and into the bath water, polluting the love that was used to create it.

You hear his footsteps, padded feet on your now clean floor as he walks into the bathroom and takes in the sight of you. You blink against the rush of embarrassment, too tired to wipe the tears away, too tired to hide a vulnerability you wanted to keep a lid on for awhile longer.

He walks to your sink, gathering product, a hair bottle, and a wide-toothed comb before coming back to you. He kneels beside the tub and rolls up his navy sleeves without ceremony, pinching off his glasses before he sets them on the floor. He’s soft but efficient in the way he rubs your bar soap on your loofah, getting it nice and sudsy. He’s relaxed but observant—his tie loosened but not completely off, his forearms flexing with quelled strength as he washes your back and shoulders, the slight furrow of concentration in his brows as he measures his next words.

“Strawberry and cream cheese danishes.”

“Hm?”

“If I eat one, I’ll want more. So I try to stay away when I can.” Nanami continues, washing the soap off your shoulders before he hands you the loofah. You take it without question, watching him disappear to sit behind you as you wash your limbs.

“After Yu…I would bury my sorrow in work. I worked and worked and worked until my boss forced me to take time off. It’s a sneaky sickness. It likes to watch over you and strike the very moment your guard is down.”

You hear the squeeze of your hair bottle behind you, your snarled strands soaking with rosemary-scented mist in his gentle fingers.

“It’s been years. But when it does hit, that darkness that seems to strangle me and tell me that I should have tried harder, that I should have protected him….I like to go across the street from my home and get a strawberry and cream cheese danish.”

You know Nanami has a sweet tooth. You’ve seen the way his eyes light up from the pies that you like to make, always bringing him a slice to work. You’ve seen the sidelong glance he gives strudel that steams behind glass display cases at the bakery he takes you to. But to imagine him leaving his apartment in the dead of night, wrinkled clothes and bags beneath his eyes, not showered in days—paying for a danish…you hitch a breath, a chuckle squeaking and dying in your throat with a painful lurch.

“Why are you laughing?” He admonishes. You can practically feel the lifted brow and gentle smile on your back. Your skin tingles with the movement of his fingers as he works them through your hair, detangling with rosemary and leave-in conditioner

“Do you buy the three-pack?”

Silence. A pause in your hair before baby hairs flutter from the puff of air he shoots out. You bite your lip to keep the dry smile from forming.

“No,” he lies, playfully.

The heaviness in the air gives way to a light current of brightness from your fleeting smile, from the smell of the tub, and your hair now detangled and loose before shrinkage claims it.

“I’m not sure what’s compelled you to think there’s a proper time to tell me that your thoughts grow dark at random moments in your life. Now, two months from now, it doesn’t matter. I love you.”

The declaration wraps around you, sliding down your ajar mouth and curdling in your lungs with certainty, taking root in the muscle for the foreseeable future.

“And if it is alright,” he continues, carding his fingers through your hair to plait it into a single braid. “I would like to love every part of you. Even the parts you try to hide. The parts that make you think that you’re not good enough—for me, or your friends, or anyone else. If anything, being able to be here, right now, is a privilege I’ll cherish.”

When the fresh tears spill over again, they no longer taint the water you soak in. They cleanse, collecting and filtering away the depression and anxiety that claims so much of your life when you least expect it.

After, when you’re clean and smelling of Shea butter that Nanami slathered you in, you sink into your now clutter-free sofa. The exhaustion settles on your bones in a different way. Well earned after a long battle instead of invasive and unasked for.

Your eyes rest on the lovely bouquet of Asian lilies on your coffee table, fresh with stems cut, curling toward you with open petals so you can see the beauty inside. The gesture fills you with more of that feeling, of love that you never imagined to come so soon with a man like him.

Nanami walks around the sofa, a tray that he sets in front of you carrying his own rendition of your tomato soup, toasted sourdough grilled cheese, and a tall glass of water.

“Extra basil?” You ask, lips wobbly around a smile as you take in another form of his adoration that you’ll have forever if he allows it.

“Extra basil.”

When he returns with his own tray, his hair falling over his eyes in a heap of hard work, he offers you a look. A measured look that’s filled with everything he wants to give, an excitement in his warm brown eyes that you can’t wait to see more of. But it’s shrouded in a gentle reservation with gaps only visible to you. Soft smiles for you. Loving touches for you. A beacon in storms that brew seemingly out of nowhere just for you.

He leans forward and brushes his lips against your forehead, a safe place where he can take some part of you while you heal. But you’d like more. So you tilt your head for him, soaking the warmth from his lips that press against yours softly.

Suddenly, your worries, your dark thoughts, your misery that you let keep you beneath your blankets for days all smoothed over from his touch. Satiated until those maggots in your mind wiggle to life again when they’re hungry.

“Marcus didn’t give a rose to Janine.” He says casually as he draws back to his side and turns on the TV, nonchalant as if he didn’t just spend the evening putting you back together with gentle hands and quiet love.

You relax into his side, looking at his arm with teary eyes as he rests it on the couch behind you, offering a blanket of comfort and safety that you haven’t had in a long time.

“Gojo spoiled it,” Nanami continues, grumbling and annoyed at the two syllables of Gojo’s name touching his tongue. He blows at his spoon of soup, eyes locked on the screen, his sharp features colored with flickering blues and reds.

He notices your stillness—of course, he notices—and offers you another kiss on your cheek before turning back to the show.

“I’ll steal his kikufuku as punishment,” you offer, arm shaking with the gentle chuckle he gives in response.

The soup steams in your hands, your hair soft and braided, your body worshiped and clean, Nanami’s heartbeat permeable beneath his clothes as you sink into him and sip your delicious soup.

For the first time in years, you know when the world feels heavy, he’ll be able to lift that weight off of you before it buries you away.

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

🎉 Thank You for 10k+ Followers!! 🎉

A big thank you goes out to @cozymochi for this beautiful celebratory commissioned artwork for this major milestone ✨ It really captures the scope of all the content that had been put out in the last 4+ years—both in terms of official Twst materials and on this blog! I think it’s very fitting that we hit this milestone in the month of Halloween too (I just held off on posting this til the month after); it’s Twst’s biggest holiday of the year, so it’s twice the cause for celebration!!

A lot has happened over the course of my time in this fandom. I’ve written many things of course, but I’ve also had many other exciting opportunities! I’ve been interviewed for a paper, met many cool people from all over the world, attended Twst meetups + events, collaborated with other talented creators, received kind gifts, contributed to various fandom projects, and finished telling the origins of my Twst OC. This blog has been with me through a lot of major changes and difficult hurdles in my life too—it’s really been an anchor for me, a comforting and safe space for me to be creative or analytical whenever I want to be.

When I first started this blog as a very casual hobby in summer of 2020, I never even considered that it would balloon to this extent. It still doesn’t feel totally real to me 😭 I don’t usually fixate on numbers (they make me anxious), but looking back on it, 10k is a LOT, and 4 years is a long time. To put that in perspective, if we were in Twisted Wonderland for 4 years then all of the students we’ve come to know and love would have graduated by now. That’s crazy to me. We’ve come so far as a group.

I feel that a large part of fandom is the community that comes with it. I would have found it so challenging to stick with Twst had I not had so many great people keeping me engaged with it. I’d now like to take a moment to thank those folks. Keeping in line with the idea of “4 years”, think of these as little messages scrawled in a yearbook. I also have a blog event planned to celebrate! More on that later.

Please note that I’ve used pseudonyms for most of the following people, as I’d like to respect their privacy (I’m very private myself) + not all of them are comfortable with being explicitly named or tagged to a large crowd. You’ll know who you are if you see yourself on here.

Without further ado:

MSS — Thank you for being the first Twst space I felt truly a part of. It’s still the place I consider my fandom “home” beyond this blog.

April — Thank you for making MSS as a place for us to share! We’re tsunderes in solidarity.

Drinking Knight — The banners wouldn’t exist without your help. Thanks for getting the ball rolling on those; I’d like to think that I’m a little more confident in designing new ones myself now, but you were the start of it all. Your endless enthusiasm for the most insane otome boys, drinks, and bullying (positive) others is truly an inspiration.

Q. Opinionated — Can’t count the number of times you ran tech support for me 💀 Thanks so much for being patient and willing to laugh at a stupid situation. I WILL grip you (escape is not an option) 🤲

Dad with his Printer — Why are you so cheeky My unofficial proofreader and fact checker. Still treasure the teeny J word and coffin magnets you sent, and, even more valuable than those, the bad dad jokes/puns advice and wisdom you give. Wishing you luck on your art adventure.

A. Cider — An unexpected friend I met very late into the fandom and happened to run into irl by total coincidence. Funny how life works. Your shitposts are great, and I appreciate having a like-minded person to talk with about the J words and story critiques. I’d also like to thank you for the many little doodles you’ve made; I know you’re very busy and have a wife to tend to at home but I appreciate that you still make time for friends.

Hana — Extroverted pink-haired magical girl representation. Your bubbly love for Disney, Diasomnia, singing, and (yes) angst lights up the entire room. Maybe you’re not too confident with yourself are right now, but I know you’ll find your way.

Swan — For being quick on the uptake and giving me the heads up about various things! We may not talk much one-on-one, but I’m thinking of you and enjoy seeing you pitch into the conversation. You’re still banned for L*ona posting though/j

Ly — My secret French twin/j Thanks for being my cultural + equine advisor and a voice of (salty) reason. Never shut up about your hyperfixations! You’re a real one.

Oys — Enabler + encourager of my Yan!Sil delusions. Sorry for making your blood pressure spike every time we talk about our food takes. But hey, at least we get a good laugh out of it :))

Mac and Bean — For being my inspirations. Bean, you have such atmospheric writing. I hope my writing style can be just as magical as yours. Mac, it was your blog that first got me into starting my own Twst writing. You never stop being so, so funny also I blame you 120% for the L*ona rot.

Peaches and Cream — To my local Twst friends, thanks for keeping me company even through the hard times. Peaches, happy to be your local Twst dealer anytime. Cream, thanks for hooking me up with new books.

Salt and Flora — I don’t know where you vanished to, but the sea brought you back to me on its tides. I’m so happy we could meet again. Salt, you’re so talented at crochet and design work; get your coin 😂 Flora, you’re the sweetest person ever. Literally cottagecore personified, even in your art.

Piano — We don’t always see eye to eye, but thank you for being my serial debater and showing me new perspectives. Your open-minded theories and analyses are such fun. And, of course, it’s always hilarious to think about how we accidentally (?) swapped oshis 🤡 You’re a star.

The Anklebiter — For having the most unhinged jokes and ideas. Seriously, THE most unhinged. I never do any of the crazy things you suggest but I’m always really entertained from just hearing them.

Te, Mi, and Ro — Thanks for organizing local events and giving me an excuse to touch grass. It’s a lot of hard work and you guys manage to pull it off every time! Mi, I was flattered to have you reach out to me to help a little with the Tweel cupsleeve event. Happy to help anytime! Te, I remember you were cosplaying as Kalim when we first met and I kept thinking about how perfectly suited you are for the role. You were very friendly and made such an effort to include everyone in the event even when I was Idia-ing in the corner. To this day, you continue to spontaneously introduce me to new people 😂 Thanks for getting me put of my comfort zone. Ro, I didn’t think we’d meet again like this. Small world! You’re learning and improving the big events. Here’s hoping to many more!

Vic — For being Ace Trappola when very few others would. It’s refreshing to have someone tell it like it is. I wish I could be as bold and as honest as you are sometimes. You have such a big heart when it comes to the characters you love; it makes me want to adore them like you do too 🫶

Kana — For being so sweet and patient. You helped me through so many rough patches and have also contributed a lot to the look of the blog. It’s so fun gushing with you about magical girls and pretty boys, sharing our favorite shows and movies… I feel as though I’ve made a lifelong friend.

Zari — Thank you for charms and art book, big fan of your stuff 😭 So honored to have worked with you on projects too. I hope to see a lot more of your Yuu and other OCs around, I love following them ^^

Lala — You understand, encourage, and validate my weird tastes in fictional men 💕 Really admire your sense of fashion and stylish nails too. Whenever I have my shrimp apron on, I think of you.

Arisu — No longer in the Twst fandom but integral in the earliest days. Wherever you are now, I wish you nothing but happiness.

P-san — You’re a lifesaver!! Thank you so much for helping me find cute little outfits and accessories for my plushies… They are forever grateful to be properly clothed.

V, Fa, Fe, Ray, Rea, Sonny, Glimmer Group, and Incognito Crew — Thanks for being so supportive of my hyperfixation on Disney villain anime boys, even if you guys have NO clue what I’m rambling about half of the time. To V specifically 🫵 I am NOT a cat boy kisser

Mango — I didn’t know I wanted you in my life until you showed up uninvited one day and chewed your way into my heart.

Azul Ashengrotto — For being the character that first convinced me into giving this game a shot. The Little Mermaid was something I always held so dear to me, so it almost seems like destiny that you’d be the one to drag me down into Twst. You’ll always hold a special place in my heart for that, even if my feelings have changed since then.

Rook Hunt — For being there when I needed to laugh a little. It’s scary to glance over my shoulder sometimes, but you make it easier to smile as I look back.

Rollo Flamme — For letting me know that having negative feelings is normal and human, even if we don’t always cope with them in the healthiest of ways. Let’s reflect and be better together!

Leona Kingscholar — For showing me that change and personal growth is, in fact, possible. Th-This doesn’t mean I like you or anything though, so get off your high horse—

Jade Leech — For taking my hand and guiding me back on the path when I got lost in the dark. Whatever crimes you may commit in your free time, I forgive you/j

Miss Raven Crowley — The little black bird who could, the blog muse. I made you on a whim and look at where you are now… You went from a background character to the main character of your own story. So proud of you, my child 😭

Asset compilers, fan artists, fanfic writers, fan translators, cosplayers, merch makers, editors, plushie pic takers, video essayists, theorizers, etc. — You’re all so important to keeping the fandom alive, especially during periods of official content drought. It wouldn’t be feasible for me to list out all of the content creators I enjoy (chjsbsksks and it honestly might be awkward since I haven’t directly interacted with most of them), but I hope that this message still reaches you and finds you well. Keep doing your thing; I love seeing the work you put out ^^

Anyone and everyone that I’ve ever commissioned and/or received fan works from — I appreciate that you took time and energy out of your day to create something for me. There’s so much talent in the Twst fandom and I’m honored that you would dedicate some of that to a silly little birb.

You, the Readers — For supporting this blog and and what I do here! You’re an important part of my journey too.

Thank you!! Here’s to a future unknown and a page unwritten.

- The Writing Raven

[whatifitis]

♡ In Between - FC 43 ♡

Summary: You and Franco has a nice night in, when you start to think about your guys relationship and wonder if it's time you tell him that you really like him.

WC: 2320

CW: overuse of song references, nothing really, it's quite fluffy, maybe some negative thoughts the reader has about themselves?

It’s a Saturday night, one of the least chaotic ones now that your best friend is a driver in F1. Franco was called up to fill Logan's seat for the rest of the season which is beyond exciting and you couldn’t be more proud. The only downside is that his schedule is so much more packed now that he’s getting acknowledgement from so many teams and people. All this new media coverage feels so insane. And something that doesn’t help is the fact that you’ve slowly been falling for Franco.

The two of you have been friends for a while. But in recent months, you’ve started to see him in a different light. You’re sure it’s just a crush but it’s been well over 2 months that you’ve felt this way. Some say that crushes only last about 2 months, once you’re past that mark, you’re actually in love with the person. You hoped this crush would go away, afraid to ruin what you have with Franco. Your relationship with him is the best that’s ever happened to you. You never want to lose him. But alas, the crush did not go away. So now you’re here.

It’s a bit late into the evening now. Franco asked you out for lunch earlier and now the two of you are lying on his bed, watching American Pie. The two of you were lying on the bed, side by side. Franco was lying with his back against the bed's headboard while you lied next to him on your side. The safest place you’ve ever known, next to him.

The two of you were halfway through the movie when he asked you a question that you didn’t quite catch the first time, so you angle your head up to look at him. As soon as you locked eyes with him, Franco couldn’t help but laugh. When you moved your head to look at him, your glasses had skewed on your face.

His laugh always was so contagious, it always got you laughing too. When you two had calmed your laughing fits, Franco took his hand and adjusted your glasses into the right position, before leaning forward and gently kissing your forehead.

“You’re beautiful… and funny… And smart. Like nothing I’ve ever seen.” You turned to bury your face in your hands, trying to hide your blushing face. You love it when he talks, not just about you. About anything really, he’s your favorite yapper and you wish you could listen to him all day. Your favorite sound ever.

“Hey, let me see that beautiful face again.” Franco says, grabbing your hand and moving it from your face. “Hi” he says when he can see you again. “Hi” you reply, smiling so hard. It was so hard to believe this was real, your guy's friendship. It was the type of relationship you’d always dreamed of, that sort of naive and innocent relationship that was filled with laughter and joy and… love? Was it too soon to use that word? Maybe considering you were just friends… Just. Friends.

“So,” Franco started, pulling you out of your thoughts, “What’s the dream?” “The dream?” you look at him, confusion written all over your face. “Yeah, the dream. Your dream. What you’re working towards.”

You laid there for a beat, thinking about it. What was your dream? All this time, you’ve just been focusing on surviving, not so much on the living.

“Um, I’m not sure. I’ve never really thought about it. I guess I want to finish my masters degree in uni. Then after that, just… live, I guess.” you look up at him with a smile. “That’s it? You don’t have any other goals or anything?” - his eyebrows furrow, showing you a confused expression. You shake your head no. “You’re kidding.” - Franco snorts in disbelief. “Well, what are yours? Your plans, goals.” You ask as you sit up against the headboard of the bed. “Em, well, I guess F1 was always a big goal, and now I have it.” he sits there for a second, thinking, twisting his lips as he does, “I’ve also always wanted to have a nice house for my family.” “What does this house look like?” you ask. He takes a moment to think, trying to come up with an honest answer for you. “I never really thought about that to be honest. I just want something nice with enough space for my family. I think a pool in the back would be nice. A big backyard so we could have barbecues as well.”

You’re smiling at him, admiring the person in front of you. You could find the whole meaning of life in those eyes. You’re glad he gets you, and your dark sense of humor. And when you let him in on all your bad decisions, he made them feel less terrible the second that he’d listen.

Don’t stop talking to me. Maybe stay here forever, with me.

“I think that sounds lovely.” you say. “Thank you.” he replies, blushing at your words, “What about your house? Your dream house. Surely you have a dream house.”

You sit up straight, so ready to answer this question. You won’t lie when you say you’ve always wanted to be asked about this. “I do. Um, well it would have a green kitchen. I saw a picture of one online a while ago and just became obsessed with the idea. And the bathrooms would be pink and red, I just think that would look sick. Oh! I also really want a blue hallway.” Franco gives you a confused look, “A blue hallway? For what?” “There’s this band that I love and in one of their music videos, the band painted a wall in the house blue.” “Ah. Which song is the one for the blue wall?” “It’s called True Blue. It’s a song about the person you love and who loves you. This person knows you so well, maybe even more than you know yourself.” “Interesting” he nods his head as he mentally writes down the name of that song so he can listen to it later. He turns his body more towards you, asking “Do you have a true blue?” “I think I’m slowly discovering mine” - you confess. “What about you? Got a true blue yourself?” He looks at you before looking down at his hands and failing to suppress a smile. “Yeah, I do.” “Well, go on. Tell me about them.” you insist. “She’s really cool.”

She? Was he talking to someone else? No, don’t be like that. Maybe it’s just a friend or something? Right?

“She is also really smart.”, he continues, “She loves reading and not only listening to music but also creating it.” Is he talking about me? I do that. “And she’s really good at that. She’s also the hardest working person I know. Like I mean she’s really smart, like Einstein smart.”

You couldn’t help but laugh at this. He’s definitely exaggerating but you have to admit, you’re pretty fucking smart.

“Oh, is she now? She must be one hell of a catch” “Oh trust me. She is and I’m very lucky to have her. She’s also the most beautiful person I’ve ever known. Not just on the outside, that’s an added bonus. But she’s just incredible. And she laughs at all my jokes. And when I save the dirty ones for her, her nose crinkles. It’s really cute actually. Her voice as well, oh my god. The best sound ever. Like when there’s something she’s really interested in or really passionate about, she could talk for hours. That’s one of my favorite things about her. That and her laugh, I wish I could bottle up the sound of her laugh and keep it with me, so I can listen to it whenever I want. Don’t even get me started on how she is with my family. They all get along so amazingly, it’s so much greater than anything I could ever imagine. I think one of the selling points was my family loving her as much as I do. This girl also will drop everything for those she loves. It doesn’t matter if she has work or school or anything, she will drop it just to make sure you’re okay. And she will beat anyone’s ass if they hurt you. I think I’m falling for her. I don’t wanna look at anything else now that I’ve seen her. Now it’s like there’s daylight. Whenever I’m with her, everything feels okay.” “Wow.” is all you can say in this moment. Was he really talking about you? Or are you wishfully thinking he is? “Yeah”, he blushes, “wow”

You take a moment to take all that information in. Maybe he wasn’t talking about you. You clearly see how amazing he is, other people are able to as well. Your mood kind of dampens from these thoughts. You really thought you two could be something. You guess you made it all up in your head, it’s just all one sided.

“What’s wrong?” Franco asks. “Hm? What?” you respond, startled from the sudden break of silence. “What’s wrong? You kind of spaced out.” “Oh, nothing. Was just thinking.” “About?” he responds, sitting up from the bed to lean a bit closer to you. “It’s really nothing. Let’s keep watching the movie” you try to smile and lighten the mood again.

You move to raise the volume on the tv, but you feel Franco’s hand wrap around your wrist lightly. You turn back to look at Franco. He looks confused, and a bit scared?

“Wait, I need to talk to you.”

Oh shit

You return to your spot on the bed, not fully relaxing as his last sentence is kind of terrifying. “Yeah, of course. What’s up?” “I need to tell you something… about that girl.” “Oh”

Damn, alright. Keep bragging about how it’s not me, I guess.

“Well, I know she often thinks negatively about herself. Like she doesn’t deserve that type of stuff. Like love and happiness. She also has a hard time believing that people really do care about her. But I do, I love and care about her so much. And I know she’s afraid of letting people in, and she’s let me in a bit, but I want more with her.”

Ok, fuck me then. Wow, leave it to Franco to absolutely break my heart, unknowingly.

“So, what did you need from me?” “You dumb ass, it’s you! You’re the girl. You’re my true blue.” he lightly laughs.

What.

“What.” you stare at him blankly.

What the fuck? Is he for real right now? How though?

“I like you. I want more with you! You’re my true blue! I want you for worse or for better. I would wait for ever and ever.” - his tone is quiet as he confesses his feelings for you. You sit there silent for a moment before catching something. “Bitch, did you just quote Taylor Swift?!”

He looked to the side for a minute, as if he was thinking or trying to remember something while he pursed his lips. “Yeah?” he laughs, “I know you like her a lot so I listened to her a lot to try and learn some of her songs. They’re pretty good”

I’m going down without a fight, I don’t know how he does this. He makes me really nervous. What is he doing to me now?

“You listened to her… just for me?” you ask, still hesitant on whether he’s being serious or just messing with you. Cause you’re still falling for him and you can’t stop. This might be the thing that breaks you if it doesn’t end well.

“Yes. Staying up with you, despite the space between us. I’ve never felt so close to someone. You came out of the blue like a shooting star. You wait and wait for it to appear, and when it does, it illuminates its surroundings, just for a second. And that is the feeling that I want to feel forever. Everytime I get to see you, it’s like you illuminate every space you walk into.”

What if he’s my weakness?

“I- I don’t know what to say. All this time, I’ve been keeping on my mind on the running away. And for the first time, I’d consider to stay. I know I make the same mistakes a lot and I never learn. But I think I did one thing right.” you say, smiling as his starry eyes spark up this dark night.

He’s looking at you with so much admiration in his eyes.

“I got so damn close to packing it up, then you happened. I’ll never leave out the back door and I don’t plan on running away from the good things anymore.” - you continue.

The two of you just sat there in silence, staring at each other with smiles plastered on your faces. Franco is the first to break, moving closer to you, leaning close to grab the side of your face.

Breathe in, breathe through, breathe deep, breathe out

You’re close enough to feel each other breathe. Just one inch closer and… His lips are on yours, connecting gently. They’re warm and soft. You wrap your arms around his neck, pulling your bodies closer together. At the same time, Franco brings his other arm to wrap around your torso, grabbing the side of your waist so you don’t slip away. It’s like taking your first breath of air in years. You feel his lips on yours as butterflies erupt in your stomach.

After a few moments, you break the kiss, needing to actually take in some air. Franco’s hand is still on the side of your face, slowly he slides it down to connect your fingers with his.

“Can I be yours?” he asks, “Your forever true blue?” he asks. “Forever and always”

[hanniebaeee]

The Ex

Hyunjin x fem!reader

Warnings: mentions of injury

Genre: exes to lovers, fluffffff

Summary: Your ex, Hyunjin, calls you at midnight, injured and freaked out. The fact that you're still in love with him may be a problem. Or not.

Your break-up with Hyunjin had been a literal storm. Tear-soaked, heartbreaking, and both of you still so much in love that it hurt beyond words could explain. You didn't understand how it came to it, actually. Watching him walk away was the hardest thing you've ever had to do, and that's an image you can't get off your mind. No matter how hard you try.

You tried to delete his number, unfollow him literally everywhere, and move on with your life. But it was easier said than done. That's why when his number flashes on your phone screen, you freeze.

You almost ignore it. Almost. But something inside you won't let you, and here you are, answering his call.

“Hyunjin?”

There’s a weird silence on his side. You haven't heard his voice since you broke up a couple of months ago, and the anticipation is killing you.

You're starting to think that he made a mistake, when you hear his breath on the other line - heavy and desperate.

“Y/N,” Hyunjin’s voice is shaky, and you sit upright, your heart in your throat.

“Hyunjin? What’s going on?” you ask, ready to run. “Are you ok?”

“I’m at - at the hospital,” he chokes out.

“What? What happened?!” you ask, fear starting to grip you.

“I fell…I was going down some stairs, trying to carry all my art supplies - don’t ask, it’s a long story. But I tripped and fell down the stairs, and my foot, it’s swelling up. It hurts like hell, Y/N, I’m so scared-” His voice breaks, and he takes in a shaky breath. “Someone dropped me here, and I don’t - I don’t even know anyone in this city.”

Your heart sinks, imagining him sitting there, hurt and scared and…alone. You know you should feel nothing for him. Maybe a bit of concern, but nothing else. He's your ex.

But no, that isn’t how your heart works. This is Hyunjin, it says, the guy you spent way too many sleepless nights with, the guy you had to claw out of your chest when you broke up.

“Hello? Y/N?” Hyunjin sounds like a lost little child, his little sobs gripping at your poor heart.

“Hyunjin, take a breath. Oh my God. Stop crying, baby, I’m on my way, okay? I-” You freeze, closing your eyes, cursing yourself for the slip.

You called him baby?!

A beat of silence. You can hear Hyunjin sniffling on the other side, and you panic.

“Oh, uh, I'm sorry, I didn’t mean-” you stutter, before quickly saying, “I'll see you soon.”

You hang up before he can reply, embarrassment coursing through you. You sit on your couch cringing and feeling terrible. Taking a deep breath, you reach for your phone again. You need backup and there’s only one person who can handle Hyunjin like you do.

So, with shaking fingers, you dial Changbin's number, as you make your way to your bedroom. Changbin picks up after about two rings, and says, “Hey babe, you good?”

“I'm not sure, Bin. Hyunjin called me…he’s hurt. He’s at the hospital, and he’s-” You fall silent as you hear Changbin sigh.

You can tell he’s running his hand through his hair the way he always does when he’s dealing with one of your ‘Hyunjin’ emergencies.

“Don’t worry about it. I’ll go,” he says, but you both know you’re not going to let him go alone.

“Yeah, no. I’m coming with you. I can’t just sit here while he’s hurt,” you argue, already pulling on a jumper over your t-shirt.

“You’re crazy for doing this, you know that?” Changbin says.

“Yeah, what's new?” you mutter, pulling your jeans on, and then your shoes.

“Alright,” Changbin sighs, but you could hear the smile in his voice. “Let’s go pick up our delicate flower.”

He's over at yours in record time, and gives you an unimpressed look.

“Binnie, not now!” You say as you both get into his car.

The drive is only about an hour, but it feels like hours. You try not to think of the last time you made this journey. It ended up with you coming back alone and so broken. Now, you sit in silence, Changbin can feel you unraveling.

He shoots you a look and asks, “You okay?”

You let out a hollow laugh.

“I mean, my ex, with whom I’m still kind of in love with, is in the hospital. So, I guess I’m as fine as I can be.”

“Kind of? Who are you kidding?” Changbin raises an eyebrow, a smirk playing on his lips.

“Ok, shut up.” you mumble, cheeks burning and you look away, hoping he'll leave it alone.

But he just laughs, putting his hand on yours.

“I get it, ok? You’re a good person for doing this, Y/N.” he says softly, and you feel a tear prickle at the corner of your eye.

You blink it back, trying your best to hold it together.

“He must have moved on, right?” you say, fidgeting with the hem of your jacket.

“If you're talking about Hwang Hyunjin, I can assure you that he’s still head over heels for you, even if he won’t admit it.”

You manage a small smile at that and say, “You think?”

“No, I know,” Changbin says, smiling, “He wouldn’t have called you if he wasn't. You’re still the only person who can get through to him.”

“I’m so lucky to have you, you know that?” You say, squeezing his hand.

“You are,” he agrees, flashing you a cocky smirk. “And you’re welcome. Now, let’s go remind Hyunjin that he’s not a fragile old man on his deathbed.”

By the time you finally get to the hospital, your nerves are buzzing. You walk in with Changbin by your side, his hand a steady presence at your back.

And there he is, slumped in a chair with his injured foot propped up, wearing a miserable, pouty expression, and it's so adorable, it crushes you almost immediately.

When his eyes land on you, they light up and he's reaching out to you.

“You came!” His voice cracks, and you hate that it makes your heart flutter.

He takes your hand in his and presses his cheek to it, and holds onto you like he’s afraid you’ll slip away. “You actually came?”

You’re still mad at yourself for caring this much, but you don't regret anything. Not after seeing him like this.

“Yeah, you idiot. Of course I did.” you say gently, sitting near him.

He looks away, probably trying to hide his tears, and mutters, “I thought you’d never want to see me again.”

You’re about to reply when Changbin clears his throat.

“Hello to you too Hyunjin. Oh, how am I? I'm good!” He says dryly, making you laugh.

Hyunjin narrows his eyes at Changbin, rolling them even though he’s still clutching your hand.

“I knew she'll call you, I just-” Hyunjin tries, but Changbin snorts in response.

“You're sneaky little-” Changbin begins but a nurse comes over and says that Hyunjin’s doctor has taken a look at his x-rays and wants to talk to him.

Changbin helps him into the wheelchair and you all move into the examination room where the doctor tells him that it's a sprain, and he'll have to rest his foot for sometime.

Once outside, Changbin tells him, “No more carrying your entire art studio down the stairs.”

“Hey, I didn't have anyone to help me!” Hyunjin says.

“I wonder who's fault it is!” Changbin shoots back, and Hyunjin pouts, crossing his arms against his chest, as you bite back a laugh.

You all sit at the waiting area, wondering what to do next. As you look at Hyunjin, all the messy feelings you’ve buried rush to the surface. You know it’s stupid, probably really reckless, but you can't help it. You love this man so damn much.

Hyunjin sniffles, studying the bandage on his foot before looking at you.

“Are you ok?” You ask, seeing how tired he looked.

“When I fell, I was so scared…I thought I would die…like my entire life flashed before my eyes. It was horrible,” he says. “And, all I felt was regret. I… I was an idiot. I should have fought for us.”

His words are definitely pulling at your heartstrings. Your eyes meet Changbin's, sitting on Hyunjin’s other side. He raises his eyebrows, knowing exactly where this is going. Before you can say anything, Hyunjin is leaning into you, his fingers intertwined with yours.

“I won’t survive a single day without you,” he whispers. “I mean, look at me. You left me, and here I am - falling down stairs, breaking bones-”

“It's a sprain, Hyunjin,” You remind him with a smile.

“But it feels broken. I feel broken…without you…”

“Jinnie-” You start, not knowing what exactly to say to him.

Your heart twists painfully. You don't know if this is a good idea, but that doesn't stop you from wanting him.

“Before you two start making out in front of me, I’m gonna go get some coffee,” Changbin's voice cuts in.

Hyunjin grins, cupping your cheek with his hand. He ignores Changbin completely, and says, “If you'll have me, I promise to never let you go. I promise I'll be good.”

And before you can stop yourself, you lean in, pressing your lips to his in a soft kiss. He's pulling you closer, kissing you deeper, but you put a hand to his chest, gently pushing him back. You are still at the hospital, and people are starting to notice.

When Changbin returns, you both carefully put Hyunjin in the backseat. He grabs hold of your hand as you're about to shut the door, and wants you to sit with him.

He clings onto you the entire drive home, sneaking kisses - so many kisses. And also persuades you to spend the night at Changbin's, so you end up cuddling him to sleep.

And you sleep peacefully for the first time since your break up.

[reallyromealone]

Hi! Just sending in this ask before I forget my idea, dont answer this until your asks are open again I just want to write this down before I forget!! Boten x single father! male reader, reader works at a restaurant and Boten comes in one night and Mikey takes a liking to him, his daughter sits in the staff room and draws/plays because she’s too young to be home alone- 🦇 anon

Title: cute waiter

Fandom: Tokyo revengers

Characters: bonten

Fic type: fluff

Pairings: Mikey x reader

Warnings: male reader, reader insert, single dad reader, fluff, nameless daughter, Mikey has that weird ass rizz as the kids say

Notes:

Summary: bonten goes to a small restaurant while in town for business and Mikey falls for the cute waiter.

🎄🎄🎄🎄🎄🎄🎄🎄🎄🎄🎄🎄🎄🎄🎄🎄🎄🎄🎄

(Name) Could never thank his boss enough for letting (daughters name) stay in the office, the elderly woman finding the toddlers company pleasant while she worked on scheduling and order's.

"(Name), could you cover booth three? I have to talk to (boss name) about the schedule" (name) looked to his co-worker who managed the hardest puppy eyes he could "fine, but you owe me"

"Thank you!"

(Name) Never knew what to expect at the small restaurant, typically it was the locals in the small town but sometimes some rich people came in and even foreigners which was a gamble on how the experience would go.

Usually they were nice though.

"Hello! Could I get you gentlemen started with water or perhaps the chef's choice of wine?" (Name) Said happily to the group who sized him up, the man in the middle just staring him down with cold blackened eyes but (name) just continued smiling and even making eye contact with them.

Blissfully unaware of who they were or what their tattoos meant.

"We will start with the finest wine you have" the white haired man with snake like eyes said simply, his rings shining under the warm lights "of course! I will be back momentarily with your wine, gentlemen" and with that (name) turned and left, bonten not missing Mikey's curious look and the lock on to the waiters ass. They all exchanged glances while their boss just ate his snacks, flipping to the dessert menu to see they had the good stuff.

(Name) Returned moments later and filled their glasses, Mikey freezing when the waiter got close to him and the white haired man could smell the others cologne faintly and nearly shoved his face into the poor man's neck if it wasn't for his self control "so tell us about yourself, Mr waiter ~" ran was going to do his boss a favor, knowing Mikey had the romantic abilities of a snail. "Ah, what would you like to know?" (Name) Was so easy going, care free "you in school?" "You single?" "You know how to bake?"

(Name) Was a bit startled by the questions but didn't see the harm "I'm not, I graduated last year, I am single and I do know how to bake, yes" (name) laughed a bit at the questions "now, what can I get you gentlemen?" Changing the topic to get to business and not have these attractive men ask every detail of his life.

Of course they ordered the nicest things on the menu, it was going to be a pricy bill no doubt but (name) wasted no time getting their order before his coworker took over his table for his break and hang out with his tot. (Name) Brought in dinner for the two, free food from the restaurant and (daughters name) got cute rice balls shaped like hearts and for dessert she got taiyaki shaped like stars and filled with custard.

"Wow you drew this?" (Name) Cheered on his kid who beamed, the owner who became their grandmother of sorts always splurged on the good coloring supplies for the little girl and finding some cute toys for the office so she's never bored.

"Why don't we show the team, yeah?" (Name) Asked the little one who bounced a little, clearly happy at the idea "let's go!" Holding his little girls hand, the restaurant was nearly dead save for the group of eight who were furious that (name) was changed out for another person but Mikeys anger quickly melted when he saw the tiny version of (name) waddle towards the elderly owner who was rolling cutlery.

"My!" She cooed and lifted the little girl up "you're so talented!"

Mikey and (name) locked eyes, the waiter offering a sweet smile and Mikey's face dusted red, (name) didn't miss the stares and the blushes on the pale man, knowing damn well the awkward blond thought he was attractive "you enjoy your meal?" (Name) Asked him casually, the blond composing himself "yeah..." His words simply and short, never the one for small talk "that your kid?"

"Ah, yeah... She's too young to be alone and my boss practically helped raise me as a teen so she just hangs here"

Mikey nodded and looked over (name) who caught his stare "would you like to go out sometime?" (Name) Thought the blond was cute, even if he barely spoke and just stared ominously.

Mikey froze, usually it was him doing that "you don't know who we are, do you?"

"...models...?" (Name) Said confused, unsure of his answer and Mikey just stared back at the man "what? Used to people not recognizing you?"

"Something like that"

"Well I hope to get to know you better, I have to get my rugrat in for her nap but I'll be back soon yeah"

Mikey never felt so complacent, nodding and even letting (name) kiss his cheek gently before going to get his daughter.