#maybe it's no connection to the thoughts right now

[motorsportbarbie13]

A Package Deal - epilogue 1

In which Lando has doubts about his worth.

warnings: angst and talk of parental death. fluff at the end tho. pairing: lando norris x singlemom!reader word count...idk like 2k? maybe less!

A Package Deal - A Package Deal - Part 2 - A Package Deal - Part 3 - A Package Deal - Part 4 - A Package Deal - Part 5 - A Package Deal - Part 6

"Today was...a lot." You sigh, collapsing into bed beside an already tucked in Lando.

"Mhm." Lando's reply is quick, a sound devoid of any emotion that has your head swinging over to where he sits beside you.

You, Lando, Stella and the rest of your family had spent most of the day moving things from your old house into the house you and Lando had purchased a few weeks after returning home from Switzerland. Both of you had wanted a fresh start as a new family and this home was supposed to be your new beginning. Something about his demeanor right now though had alarm bells ringing in your head.

"Everything okay my love?"

At this point in your relationship, you and Lando could pretty much communicate solely with an exchanged look across a room and a change in posture. You could tell when something was off with your fiance.

"Are we sure Stella should be calling me dad?"

If you had been asked to predict what was bothering Lando before he had opened his mouth, the question he asked you as he sat avoiding your stunned look was simply not even in the top 1,000 things that could have been on that list.

"I'm sorry, come again?" You try so hard to keep your anxiety and anger in check at the absolute audacity of his question, hoping that he has a good reason to be questioning his role in Stella's life.

The same heavy weight of anxiety sits on Lando's shoulders, unable to look you in the eyes. "I mean, I'm not." He says softly. "She has a dad. He died but I can't replace him. I shouldn't want to replace him."

You stare at Lando for several moments trying to come up with a response. This was certainly not the conversation you had anticpated having tonight, not after spending nearly 12 hours moving house but, here you were. Lando and you hadn't talked much about your ex. There wasn't much to say. You had dated when you were teenagers, got pregnant by accident as teenagers sometimes do, and by the time you had Stella you had gone your separate ways. He had been a good dad to Stella in those eight months before the accident, of course, but he had never connected with Stella the way you had when she was a baby.

Gingerly moving over so you're shoulder to shoulder with Lando, you lay your head on his shoulder. Relief that washes over you when he drops his head onto yours and takes your hand in his, playing with your engagement ring while he sits quietly.

Lando wasn't having second thoughts about you and Stella, about his commitment to either of you. Absolutely not. He was insecure and worried about stepping into a role that he thought he didn't deserve.

"Lan, Stella was eight months old when Chris died. You're not trying to replace him but you're the only dad she's ever known, baby. Where is all this coming from?"

If you know Lando like you think you do, you're pretty sure somethings got his anxiety up and he's worried himself into a spiral where he's convinced himself that he's not good enough or worthy of the family that he's got now.

And when he opens his mouth to explain, your suspecisons are confirmed.

"When I was packing up Stella's room today, I came across a few pictures of Chris holding Stella in the hospital." A bright shock of pain slices through Lando's chest at the thought of that picture and the feelings of jealousy that had come with seeing it for the first time. He couldn't believe how jealous he had felt knowing that he had missed that with Stella. With you. How he'd missed seeing you pregnant for the first time, how even when you started a family together like you'd talked about countless amounts of times, he'd never truly be the first one to have a family with you. He had spent the rest of the day thinking about how maybe he didn't deserve to have Stella call him dad anymore, how he hadn't earned it because there had been someone before him.

"I just don't want her to grow up thinking I'm trying to take his place. She has a dad already and what if resents me for stepping into that dad role when she's older? What if I don't deserve to be her dad?"

The pain in Lando's voice has your chest squeezing so painfully it becomes difficult for you to breathe. "Lando." You whisper, interlocking your fingers with his as you nuzzle deeper into his neck. "Baby, I need you to listen to me right now, okay? Can you do that for me?"

You pause, waiting for him to at least confirm he's going to try. When you feel him nod against your head, a small humm emanating from his throat, you continue. "Stella was eight months old when Chris died, she has no memories of him. You are the only dad she's ever known, okay? You. Do you understand me?"

"But what if..."

"No." You interrupt, tone a bit harsher than you intended. "Nope, you need to stop right there with the 'what ifs', Lan. Chris and I were friends for a very long time before we even started dating. I knew him very well and I need you to trust me when I tell you that he would be very much on board with Stella calling you dad."

Lando lifts his head before tilting your chin up so you can finally look at him in the eyes. His brows are furrowed and he's looking down at you like he can't quite believe what you're saying. Like he doesn't have the confidence in himself to believe what you're saying is true.

When he doesn't say anything further, you continue. "That little girl that I just finished tucking into bed adores you. She thinks the absolute world of you, my love. She was the one to call you dad in the first place, and if there's one thing i've learned since becoming a mom its that sometimes you have to trust that what your kid is saying is the truth. They're little humans with feelings and thoughts and beliefs of their own. Stella wouldn't call you dad if she didn't want to."

Your chest rises and falls faster at the end of your little speech, eyes searching Lando's for some kind of hint that you're getting through to him.

And you are. Lando's chest aches with the truth that he knows you're telling him. "I just don't think I could stand knowing I screwed something up with her. That I was a bad dad to her because I'm not really her parent."

You can't help but laugh at that and Lando's brow tugs together in confusion. "Baby, you're more of a parent than you realize."

"What do you mean?"

You reach down and capture Lando's hand in yours before giving it a squeeze. "You're not a true parent until you spend a majority of your time wondering if everything that comes out of your mouth or every decision you make is going to somehow screw up your kid. It's natural and it doesn't mean you're a bad parent."

You take Lando's face in your hands, pulling him towards you. When your nose is a breath away from his and you can almost feel his lips dusting over yours, you grin. "That makes you a good parent, Lando. And an even better one because you're helping raise a baby you didn't make. Stella is as much your baby as she is mine or Chris', do you understand me?"

Tears sting at the back of Lando's eyes. He hadn't realized how much seeing that picture of Chris and Stella in the hospital had bothered him. He felt guilty for ever being jealous of Chris, for being cold to you, for questioning Stella's judgement of her own feelings. All of it comes welling up in his chest, this feeling of overwhelming guilt threatening to drown him for a moment. You can see it happening, the panic attack coming on that you've witnessed before. You know how hard he is on himself, how much he wants to be perfect for everyone else because letting anyone down is akin to a waking nightmare.

"Listen to me." You beg, willing him to open his eyes so he can see how serious you are right now. "Lando, look at me."

Lando's eyes flutter open after a moment and you smile at him. "You are a good dad. The perfect dad for Stella, I swear to you. The first thing she asks me when I pick her up from school is always 'Is Lando home yet?' but since we came home from Switzerland, it's always 'is dad home yet?' Dad. That little girl sees you as her dad and that's the best gift you've ever given me. Do you remember what you told that horrendous PR girl last year?" You pause and Lando chuckles, that day last year in Miami flashing before his eyes.

"You told her Stella and I were the center of your world but you know what? You're the center of mine and Stella's world. I don't think you realize how important you are to other people, to us. Neither of us could survive without you, and that alone makes you worthy of being my husband and my little girl's father, okay?"

Tears stream down both of your faces as the words you've just said hang in the air between you, heavy and silent. You stay quiet, the reverberation of your words etching themselves into Lando's bones. He knows you're right, of course you are. But knowing you're right and beginning to believe it by himself? That was proving to be a little bit harder. But your words help him realize that he's doing a better job than he might think he is.

"Okay." He rasps out before covering your lips with yours, deperatly trying to show you just how much he loves you.

yourusername (private) posted

128 likes liked by lando, BFFSarah, yourdad and others yourusername loves of my life. (tagged: lando) lando prettiest girls i know >>>yourusername ❤️❤️❤️

Tag list: @shelbyteller @formulaal @martygraciesversion381 @longhairkoo @samantha-chicago @stelena-klayley @dark-night-sky-99 @luckylampzonkland @chlmtfilms @aykxz98 @forensicheart @cheer-bear-go-vroom @lieutenantchaos @willowsnook @linnygirl09 @meglouise00 @mixedstyles @secret-agents-stole-my-bunnies @mrosales16 @charlesgirl16 @leclercdream @daemyratwst @dramaticpiratellamas @mochimommy2002 @llando4norris @chelseyyouraverageluigi @iamaunknownsecret @maxivstappen @imlonelydontsendhelp @nina-or-anna-or-nora @a1leexxa @littlegrapejuice @sunflowervol18 @freyathehuntress @finn-dot-com @swiftie-4-lifes-stuff @chirasama @lauralarsen @dr3wstarkey @saskiaalonso @rbv3rstappen @ilovechickenwings @guaaafiiburg @mcmuppet @glitteryturtledeer @mindless-rock @piastri-fvx @mel164 @schumi-angel @ash-88yep @myescapefromthislife

[prettygirl-gabi]

Chapter 1: Through the Lens of Dreams

Rating: General Audiences

Warning: none, reader being distant with the team (more so paige)

Paring: Paige Bueckers x !photographer fem reader

Fandom: Women's basketball

Summary: "Paige Blockers" being a blocker...

Welcome to the chapter 1 of my New full length series called :Through The Lens. I hope you all enjoy and there is more to come...stay tuned my loveies!! 🏀💕📸

The assignment came as a surprise. One minute I was doodling in my notebook, bored out of my mind during Professor Gold's lecture, and the next, he was calling on me.

��Y/N, for your final project, how about something a bit more personal? Something that moves you?”

I blinked, trying to process the shift from the lecture’s dull monotony to my name echoing through the classroom. “Uh, like personal?” I asked, my voice hesitant.

“Yes,” Professor Gold said, his tone encouraging. “Think about what inspires you, what makes you feel alive. Your work has always been strong in capturing emotion and detail—why not channel that into something truly meaningful?”

I tilted my head, chewing on his suggestion. What did inspire me? Basketball had always been a big part of my life, from growing up watching UConn Women’s Basketball games with my mom to attending as a fan now. Maybe it wasn’t the worst idea.

“I… guess I could photograph the UConn Women’s team,” I said slowly, unsure if it would land right.

Professor Gold gave a reassuring nod. “Perfect. Use their stories, their passion, their journey. Show us what it means to be part of something bigger.”

A week later, I found myself walking toward the campus arena, my camera slung over my shoulder. It was game day, and I couldn’t help the excitement buzzing beneath my skin. The night’s game against a strong opponent was sure to be intense, and I couldn’t wait to capture it all through my lens.

Coach Geno Auriemma stood near the court, chatting with a few players, and I took a deep breath before stepping up to him.

“Coach Auriemma,” I said, approaching carefully. “I’m Y/N. I’ve been working on a project for Professor Gold, and I was wondering if I could talk to you for a moment about using the team as my subject.”

Coach turned, his eyes scanning me before a small smile tugged at the corner of his lips. “Y/N, right? Professor Gold mentioned you.”

I nodded, feeling a little more at ease under his gaze. “I’d love to capture moments from your team—practices, games, everything. I think it would make for a unique perspective.”

“Unique is good,” Coach said thoughtfully. “We’re always looking for new ways to connect with the fans and our supporters. Just make sure you’re capturing the right shots, no distractions for the team.”

“Yes, sir,” I replied quickly. “I’ll stay out of the way, I promise.”

The game was electric. I had never been this close to the court before, my heart racing as I snapped shot after shot. Paige Bueckers stood out, as she always did—smooth, confident, her presence commanding attention. I couldn’t tear my eyes away from her.

But then it happened.

Paige leaped for a block, her form graceful and determined. The sound of the ball slamming against her outstretched hand echoed through the arena. In a flash, the ball ricocheted toward me, and before I could even react, it collided with my camera.

The impact sent the camera crashing to the floor, shards of shattered lens scattering across the court.

Time seemed to freeze. My breath hitched as I stared at the mess of broken glass and metal. My favorite camera—ruined.

“Shit,” I whispered, crouching down to survey the damage.

Later that night, after the game had ended and I had made my way back to my dorm, I couldn’t stop thinking about Paige. The collision hadn’t just broken my camera—it had broken something inside me, too.

I knew I couldn’t keep avoiding her, but every time I thought about facing Paige again, I froze.

The next morning, I dragged myself to class, feeling like a walking ghost. It didn’t help that I shared a seat with KK Arnold, Paige’s teammate. KK wasn’t just my classmate—she was also someone who had seen the whole thing unfold.

“Hey, Y/N,” KK greeted with a smile, settling into her seat. “How’s the camera situation? Saw that you got a little too close to Paige’s shot block.”

I winced, my stomach twisting. “Yeah, it wasn’t… great.”

She chuckled softly, but her expression softened when she noticed my downcast eyes. “Look, Paige didn’t mean to—she feels bad about it, I know she does. It was an accident. She wasn’t trying to—”

“I know,” I cut in, forcing a smile. “It’s not her fault. Really.”

KK gave me a skeptical look but didn’t press further. “Just… maybe try not to avoid practice today? You’ve been avoiding the team, right?”

I bit my lip, feeling the weight of her words. Avoiding practice wasn’t helping me, but every time I thought about Paige, the memory of that broken camera flashed in my mind.

“I’ll think about it,” I murmured, turning my attention back to the lecture.

By the afternoon, I found myself back at the arena. The air felt different this time, heavier. The stands were packed, buzzing with energy, but I stayed focused on my camera, careful not to interfere with the team.

As I snapped photos, I caught glimpses of Paige—so effortless, so composed. Each shot of her was different, yet every one seemed to highlight that same magnetic presence she carried on the court.

Then, our eyes met.

It was only for a second, but it felt like the world stopped. Paige’s gaze held mine, soft but uncertain, like she was trying to say something without words.

I quickly looked away, heart thudding in my chest.

Later, after practice had ended and the court was mostly cleared, I lingered in the stands, replaying the moments over and over in my head. Paige’s block, the collision, the shattered camera—it wasn’t just a random accident. It had changed everything.

But as much as I wanted to hold on to the anger, the frustration, I couldn’t deny the pull toward her.

■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■

-Thank You For Reading!🩵🩶

-prettygirl-gabi🎀✨️

Tag list: @sayurireidotcom , @astroeliza .... (more to be added)

[rafegetinmybed]

i dunno if you're gonna write smut or not ( no pressure bcs if not like i totally get it ) but maybe a lil fic where reader and bsf!rafe are watching a movie but he finally admits he doesn't just wanna be friends.. ? if you dont do smut you could easily make it suggestive instead !! ( you dont have to take this req, just thought i'd help ur writer's block )

I am gonna do smut, Im actually working on a longer one right now!! And I love this idea, sorry it took me a while to get back to it, Ive been doing school work.

Cw: p in v, unprotected sex, fingering, I think that's all but lmk

bsf!rafe x y/n

The Kissing Booth

you and your best friend rafe cameron were having your weekly movie night together, and you had somehow convinced him to watch The Kissing Booth with you though you weren't really sure how. you were laying with your head on his shoulder and his arms around you as you often did, you didn't really think anything of it because you guys had been this close for as long as you both could remember. even though you secretly had a crush on him you could never even think that he would like you back. he had never had a girlfriend before because he much prefered casual hookups or so you thought.

as it got to the part in the movie where elle is at the kissing booth facing her crush you start to ramble on about how cute the scene is and how you wished you could have a relationship like that. rafe looked at you with admiration as you rambled on and then before you knew it his lips were colliding with yours in a slow, passionate kiss. before you had time to process what was happening he was already pulling away.

"y/n," he said softly "i like you, like a lot"

"rafe, i-" you barely got out before he interupted you.

"no actually i love you y/n. i've always loved you. all those random hookups were always just a distraction-" he said before getting cut off by the feeling of your lips on his.

"i love you too rafey" you said softly as you pulled away from the kiss. feeling a coldness on your lips from missing the heat of his, though this feeling didn't last long because before you even finished your sentence he was pulling you up onto his lap and connecting your lips once again. this kiss was deeper, more sensual and filled with want.

you found yourself tugging at the hem of his white t shirt to signal to him that you wanted it off. he broke off the kiss long enough to get his shirt off and tossed it to the floor.

"can i?" he asked gently motioning to the little pink cami you had on.

"y-yeah, of course", you stuttered out. flushed from seeing him shirtless, i mean yeah sure you'd seen him shirtless before at the beach or at the pool but here and now was completely different and you were taking it all in. his hands worked to get your shirt off and you slowly started grinding on his lap

"ohh fuck" he let out in a low groan, and you felt his hard on getting bigger underneath you as his hands moved to sit on the top of your ass slowly guiding your hips. he moved his hands up to wrap around your waist as he picked you up effortlessly, your legs wrapping around his waist, walking the two of you over to your room and setting you on the bed as he stripped off his pants. walking over to you and and taking off your tiny matching pink shorts, leaving you in only your lacy bra and panties.

"you're so perfect y/n," he mumbled to you. "are you sure you want this?" he questioned, never wanting to push you into anything.

"yes, i'm positive rafe" you replied as your hands went to the waistband of his boxers teasing him slightly.

he pushed you back on the bed pulling you into another deep and needy kiss as his hands worked to remove your bra and panties and then his boxers, his cock springing up to hit his abs. he deepened the kiss further, one hand behind your head pulling you in and the other one working its way down to your core. he slid his fingers up and down your slick folds bringing your wetness up to rub circles on your clit. you moaned into his mouth and he moved his lips down to your neck kissing, sucking and nipping making sure to leave marks so everyone knew you were his now.

you moaned his name as he slipped in one finger, thumb rubbing your sensitive bud.

"yeah you like that princess? I love it when you moan my name like that." he groaned out, slipping in another finger and increasing his pace.

"shit rafe that feels so good" you forced out in between moans and whimpers, throwing your head back onto the pillows you squeezed your eyes shut getting lost in the pleasure.

"you gonna cum on my hand baby?" he questioned and grabbed onto your jaw making you look back at him. "eyes on me princess, i wanna watch you"

"oh fuck rafey, i'm so close.." you screamed out bucking your hips at his hand to reach that spongy spot. rafe chuckled and stuck in a third finger increasing his pace even more and pulling you into a kiss. you moaned and whimpered out his name as you came on his hand and he continued to finger you, riding out your high. he slowly pulled out, you whining at the feeling of emptiness inside you, he brought his fingers up to his mouth and licked them clean, grinning at you.

"taste so sweet baby, think you can handle more?" he questioned, eyes and hands wandering over your body as he took in how beautiful you looked.

"I guess we'll have to see" you smiled at him, eyes hungry with lust. you slipped out from under him and turned him over so you were now on top. you grinded on him teasingly, "baby please," he moaned as you kissed his neck, leaving a few marks of your own. "need you now, please". you pulled away from his neck and reached down to grab his dick, lining it up with the entrance of your tight pussy and sliding slightly down on it. you both moaned as you slid down either further onto his thick cock. " fuck y/n you feel so good" he growled at the feeling of you around him. you winced softly at the enjoyable pain of race stretching you out and his words made your walls clench around his length. rafes hands found their way to your hips and he gently pulled you down the rest of the way onto him, staying like that for a short second to adjust yourself to him. "shit rafe you're so big it hurts" you whined out quietly, smiling at him before slowly rising and falling back down on his dick.

still adjusting to his size you stay slow at first, gradually increasing your speed until your at a nice steady tempo. rafes hands dig into your hips holding and guiding you with each bounce, your head falls to his neck as you moan his name, "rafe, baby i'm so close." you manage to get out into moans and your walls clench around him again making him throw his head back and let out a loud groan.

"i know princess, me too" he says, voice rough from the pleasure taking over his body. your legs start to shake and and you get even tighter around rafes length as your thrusts get sloppier and more uneven. you scream and moan as you reach your high again staying on his cock to ride out your high. not far behind you feel rafe twitching inside of you "please cum in me rafe, i need it in me" you say. "fuck y/n whatever you want baby" rafe says matching your sloppy tempo as you feel his warm seed spill inside of you and he moans out your name.

you pull him into kiss with him still inside of you, not wanting this moment to end. eventually he flips you over with ease and slowly pulls out of you, you whimper at the feeling and watch as he walks away to get a warm cloth from the bathroom. he comes back and wipes you down gently with the warm cloth, you shiver at the sensation, still very sensitive, and he laughs lightly.

"you're mine now baby, all mine. i love you y/n" he says pulling his boxers back on and handing you his shirt to put on.

you giggle, taking the shirt "I've always been yours rafey, i love you too" you reply, putting the shirt on. rafe gets into your bed next you laying down with one arm around your waist and the other drawing patterns on your arms and back. he kisses your neck and you guys fall asleep like that, together just like how you've always imagined.

[themayorautumn]

i have never written fanfiction in my entire life.

"work is the one redeeming thing that gives them purpose."

fuck me. here's something. i had to get it out of my system. i think about them. a lot.

“He was wearing a green coat, not blue.”

A dark haired man sits in a worn out office chair, face illuminated by a flickering desk lamp. His shirt is half unbuttoned, tie hanging loosely on his neck, begging to be taken off. He fidgets with the knot absent mindedly, as if it brings him some sort of comfort. Maybe he can't bear the thought of it being taken off, the last facade of performative professionalism.

His partner is pacing around the desk he’s sitting in front of, slicking his hair back constantly. It’s obvious that it’s a habit that has stuck around with him from his youth, back when his hair was fuller and eyes were brighter, and a small wink paired with a slight smile would be enough to end his night with a pretty chick in his bed. Tonight, there is no chick, and there is no bed. There is the sound of pen on paper as the man sitting by the desk crosses something off a list. Every single word on it is utterly illegible.

“Blue or green,” the man walking takes a break to light a cigarette. “It was a winter coat, puffy, expensive, you don't see that shit often around these parts. The color is a distraction, Vicquemare.”

“Yet she insisted it was sage green, didn't she? Who the fuck says that? She wouldn't have been so insistent if the color didn't matter, somehow.”

“She’s a wolf, that’s why. It’s a con. She knew what she was doing.”

“Alright,” the dark haired man, Vicquemare, gets up lazily and holds his hand out for the pack of cigarettes. His partner hands it to him. “You’re really speaking out of your ass now, Harry. What the fuck does that mean, ‘she’s a wolf’?”

“Extravagant eye makeup. Crimson red. You been to that bar called ‘Plume du Phénix’? I went there last month with that journalist guy, what's his name-”

“Pierre.”

“Right. Him, he told me it was the perfect place to get some connections. Meet people from the inside, if you catch my drift.”

“Fucking hell. You blew off work to go to a fucking strip club, did you?”

“Didn't blow off work. We went to that stakeout after, don't you remember Vic?”

“Oh yeah. You were complaining about your fucking headache the whole time.”

“Crimson makeup. They wear it there, it’s like their signature look. Blood of their former selves or whatever. Some new age bullshit. They’re dead fucking serious about it though. They don't let you in without it.”

“You wore makeup?”

“Easy now. Don't get too excited.”

Harry walks over to the desk to ash his cigarette, but doesn't get back to his pacing. He stands next to Vicquemare, staring at the ground, lost in thought.

“I did. Pierre made me wear it. They’re fucking wild in there, man. You wouldn't believe it.”

“Why didn't you invite me?”

“Are you jealous?”

“We’re partners. If you’re going somewhere to ‘get connections’, feel like I should be involved.”

“I’ll keep that in mind next time. It really is a shame. You would look good in crimson.”

Vicquemare looks away from him for just a second, not enough to mean anything tangible, but enough for Harry to crack a slight smile. He puts a hand on his shoulder and keeps it there as he continues.

“They have this thing against authority of any kind. They preach ‘anarchy’ or their performative version of it, which is where they get together in back alley bars and drink until they don't remember what they're there for. Then they wake up and do it all over again. Fucking idiots, the lot of them.”

“And this is good for connections, how?”

“They're stupid but they're bonded together like a pack of wild wolves. They know everyone in the pack and protect each other like they're blood bound. Probably are too, the freaks.”

“So she was protecting the guy? Cause she knew the coat was actually blue, but saying sage green specifically would make it seem like it would be impossible for it to be any other color?”

“Look at my boy, learning so fast under my coaching. Exactly, Vic. She’s misleading us.”

Vicquemare tugs on the knot of his tie even more insistently, as if an internal fight is going on in his head about whether or not keeping that piece of cloth there is as important as he seems to think it is. Instead of coming to a conclusion, he lights another cigarette and looks back over to the list.

“Wish we talked with her sooner, then. This fucks over our entire theory now, doesn't it? We gotta start from fucking stratch. Find that blue-sage green coat guy. Whatever his name was.”

“We can find him. We can find him, tomorrow.”

Harry reaches for a drawer in the desk and takes out a dark red bottle. He grins and holds it out for Vicquemare to read the label.

“Aged merlot. Been saving it for a special occasion.”

“Oh yeah? What’s the occasion tonight?”

“You do not give me enough credit, Jean-y boy. You do not think I am a man of class, a superior officer who cares for his lieutenant.”

He takes out two glasses from the same drawer and pours two very generous servings.

“Happy birthday, Vicquemare. Here’s to us surviving another year in this fucking shithole.”

Jean looks at his glass wordlessly, his hand still on his tie. He’s stopped fidgeting with it now, as if he’s reached a conclusion but is too afraid, or too cautious to act on it. He smiles. It looks strange on his face, laborious, but genuine. It reaches his eyes and accentuates the wrinkles around them, too many for a man celebrating his thirtieth birthday.

“Thank you, shitkid.”

And it’s clear he means it.

They drink one glass, then one more, then Harry procures another bottle of whiskey this time, which they also finish, and as Vicquemare digs in his jacket pocket for that pack of Astra Reds he’s sure he bought earlier that day, Harry bursts out laughing.

“To think it would ever come to this, huh, Jean? Is this how you imagined entering your thirties?”

Jean finally finds the treasure he’s been looking for and takes a long drag of the cigarette. The ashtray is overflowing, which seems to bother neither of them as cigarette butts litter the desk and the floor. He stumbles over to Harry and smiles, a larger grin than the one before, but it doesn't reach his eyes. They look sad, desperate, and appropriately gray, as if any semblance of color on them would be a disservice to the way they look at the world. Harry sees himself in them, not sure if he’s imagining it or not, and not caring. It’s hard to care, when it’s the only time his reflection doesn't terrify him to death.

Jean takes Harry’s hand and puts it on his tie, curling his fingers around it and tugging on it gently. Harry knows what it means. He’s seen him do it time and time again, always in a different context, but always with the same intention. ‘You take the first step, Harry. You make me believe that you want me, you allow me to pretend.’. It’s his role, he knows it, and he unties the tie.

“I didn't imagine anything. I couldn't imagine anything. What is there to imagine? What is there to fucking want?”

It’s a question that doesn't have an answer. It doesn't have an answer that can be spoken out loud. It doesn't have an answer that can be given without empty bottles clanging around on the desk, without the assurance of their blurred memories, without their hands trembling as they reach for each other, something to hold onto as if nothing else in the world matters. They have to keep moving, they have to keep reassuring each other that they still have this one thing. That the taste of smoke on each other's lips, the crumpled case files surrounding them, and Harry’s rough fingers on Jean’s disheveled hair are enough to make them forget the emptiness that they both feel.

At the end of the day, they don't have anything else.

[butterflys-corner]

Hey! I was hoping I can make a request for an angst! Zoro x Reader fic. Maybe where the reader and him have been together for over five months but unfortunately the reader isn’t getting the emotional connection she’s been wanting and Zoro only knows physical.

Then when she confront him about it after having enough, he just dismisses her and calls her a distraction, whiiich leads to them breaking up 😁

I loooove angst and you can add some nsfw details in there if you’d like

Welcome to tumblr btw!

I can definitely do that! That's such a good idea.. I don't think I've seen anything (yet!) with this theme. And thank you for the welcome :)

R͓̽e͓̽q͓̽u͓̽e͓̽s͓̽t͓̽: "Distraction" - Angsty Zoro x reader. The reader and Zoro have been together for over five months, but he hasn't been giving her quite the right type of love she needs. They argue and, from Zoro being stubborn, break up. Fem! Reader. Music inspo: Kiss With a Fist - Florence and the Machine

ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: ᴀɴɢꜱᴛ, ᴀʀɢᴜɪɴɢ/ꜰɪɢʜᴛɪɴɢ, ʙʀᴇᴀᴋ ᴜᴘ, ʜᴜʀᴛꜰᴜʟ ᴡᴏʀᴅꜱ, ᴍᴇɴᴛɪᴏɴ ᴏꜰ ɴꜱꜰᴡ.

Zoro never thought in the years of his life that he would be here, in this impossible to leave room, in this equally impossible stalemate of a conversation. Or was it an argument? He wished he knew didn't know.

You, the one person (other than Luffy) that he could stand every single day, had been angry with him over the dumbest thing to him.

"You know, I don't know why I thought it was a good idea to try this," your grating voice nagged him on. He just wanted to nap, but no.

"You either don't respect me, or you don't actually want to be with me." That caught his attention through the sleep settling in on his bones. Don't want to be with you?

"The hell are you on about, woman?" He spoke lowly, not wanting the entire crew in their business. His three swords rested against his broad chest as they usually did, his back against the mast.

"You not showing me proper affection. Like... holding hands or kissing me. Hell, even naps together seem like an obligation to you."

This was news to him. Your relationship seemed perfectly fine like enough to him. You sat beside each other at dinner, you watched him train and exercise, you napped together, you shared his cabin, what else did you-

"Gods, Roronoa. Even a single 'I do love you. I do need you. I don't want you to leave.' would work. But you can't say that, right? You only love those damn swords!"

"Will you shut up?! Why do you have to nag me every damn day? Everything I do you have some kind of issue with."

"I wouldn't have to if I felt loved! Like I felt when you first told me about having feelings for me!"

"I do. I.." He couldn't spit out the words. Those two words held a weight so heavy even he couldn't lift it. He felt almost.. helpless.

"You can't even say you love me. I thought as much." He watched as your arms crossed over your chest, the soft features of your face now harsh and angry toward him. In another instance, he would revel in that look. But now? Now he could only stare back cold and firm.

"Then what?" Your eyes bore holes into his head, but you stood tall. Before the thoughts formed in your head to respond, a scoff left his throat.

"You gonna leave me?"

You felt your head shake in disbelief, a scoff of your own leaving your throat.

"Maybe I will. You're a fucking asshole, Zoro."

"And you're-" don't say it.

"-just a-" don't finish that sentence.

"distraction." ...damn it.

He expected you to blow up. To scream at him across the ship like times before. To storm off with the heat of a thousand suns for him to cool you off later.

But the silence you gave him sent chills down his spine. The cold eyes on him were like ice, ever stuck on the glare he gave back.

"Fuck you." Was all you gave him. A quiet, bitter two words and you walked off like nothing happened.

"...shit." The word slipped his mind to his lips, the weight of the argument growing heavier than those three words you just wanted him to say. Why couldn't he just say them?

A sigh escaped his lungs and he shook his head, opting to nap away his stress. But sleep never stuck as he'd wake up every twenty minutes.

Pale eyelids flicked open and dark eyes scanned the vast waves ahead. He knew he would have to apologize somehow. He can't leave it that way.

So that's what the stubborn swordsman sought out to do. Zoro knows you had nowhere to go but your cabin, so his feet took him there without hesitation.

You were staring up at the ceiling of your cabin, endless thoughts swirling around in your head. If Zoro was pretending to care physically, what did he really think of you?

Were you just a love sick fool with rose tinted glasses this whole time? Did you let more than half a year pass under the guise of puppy love?

Gods, you were a fool.

Why would a man like Roronoa Zoro waste his time with a woman with a goal as huge as his? To be the World's Greatest Swordsman. There wasn't room for a woman in the equation, let alone affection or romance.

Grabbing the nearest pillow, you scream into the plush thing, your frustrations being released against the cotton. After the long outburst, your chest heaved against the silent room as your heart pounded in your ears.

Knock. Knock.

"Go away, Zoro."

"No. Open the door."

You grow silent, hoping that would deter him. But boy were you wrong.

"You know I'll break this damn wood to get in there."

A grumble and squeak of your bed, then you're up and opening the cabin door.

"The fuck you want now?" You all but spit, the harsh tone meeting the deserving mosshead.

"Can I come in?" His voice was low, and you noticed the slight glint in his eye. The one that you learned was a telltale sign that he was guilty of something.

"Fine," you sigh out, stepping aside.

"I came to talk. You didn't have to walk away like that." Your eyes scanned your complicated partner as you sit down against the bed again. He shut your door lightly behind him, assuming a seat along the floor.

"Like what? Like I'm angry? I am." You cross your arms over your chest, crossing your legs against the bed.

"Like you want nothing to do with me," the murmur was thick with previously hidden emotion as your eyes fell to him.

"I don't. I'm a distraction, remember? If that's all I am to you, I don't want it."

"You aren't just-" Mosshead grumbles, the inflection in his voice obviously from keeping a level head right now. "Forget it. I'm clearly wasting my time. Goodnight, Tiny."

"Don't call me that. L/N is fine."

"L/N now? Fine. Don't come cryin' to me tomorrow."

"Excuse me?" You raise an annoyed eyebrow and lean closer to the swordsman.

"You heard me, L/N. Don't bitch to me." The muscular man stood up, beefy arms crossed over his toned chest.

"Get out. I don't need you. I.." don't say it.

"You what?" She hates me.

"Gods, I fucking hate you!" You don't mean that.

"Yeah? I hate you, too. You're a pathetic," no. "weak," no, stop. "stupid woman that nags and nags me every damn day. And you know what? That's fine. You can find someone new," No. I want you. "to nag."

"Well, guess what," You stood up from the bed, the usual anger he expected bubbling up to the surface. Though, he found no humor or playful sass back at it. Just disappointment buried in his chest.

"You, Roronoa Zoro, are incapable of loving someone. You care only for being the strongest swordsman, but guess what? You can't. Even a man like Mihawk would have a love of his own that he fought for. But you? You have nothing." Your smaller hand had pressed against his thick pectoral, pushing him back until he was flush against the cabin door. "Now, get the hell out of my cabin."

"Fine." It's not fine! "Fine." It's NOT FINE!

And after that hurtful exchange, a heavy silence filled the room. The swallow of thick saliva cuts through the tension, Zoro taking the chance to leave your cabin, and your life.

When had the tears started?

Note: I hope I did it justice! Thanks for reading! <3 Credit for Zoro layout: @btslayouts Repulsion header credit: @gaecoo Pearl border credit: @chilumitos

[blurredfloweryblood]

I'm not the best person to do analysis on Hannibal, mainly because it's complex and it has so many layers and fragments and I'm so afraid of looking like a dumbass.

But every time I rewatch the first season (I'm sorry it's my favorite season, I feel like a failure), I really thought that there was a hanging theme of self-preservation among all the other symbols and themes (again, not a big "aha!" moment just verbal vomit). Abigail capture bonding with Hannibal, as well as tucking her cards near her because she is in a complicated situation. She wants to live, she really does. Her father's shadow is behind her, a bigger monster is lurking, and the seven girls yell in her dreams. She just wants to be fucking free, live a fucking life. Bloodshed, gutting, deers or whatever.

Alana doesn't want to get close to Will. Her relationship with him has to remain distant and warm enough to be somewhat solid, but careful to not let it go astray. She wants to be his pillar, and remain focused.

Hannibal is fucking thrilled. He has met the perfect being in potential, the shaking of diving into violence, the lie of self-righteousness, the thrill of blood and the mind that connects, more than other minds can. The vision that can not only observe, but know. The only person that can dig his fingers into Hannibal's skin, and appreciate what it keeps underneath. Yet, it's not that he's afraid, but un-peeling himself requires time, and he can't wait, he's on his toes and he wants to reach but things are moving fast and leading him astray, waves pulling him under and up and left and right. He is deciphering and whispering and moving strings while being beckoned. He keeps himself well hidden, but Will can't stop moving in mysterious ways.

Will is pulled and pushed and pushing and pulling back, he holds both ends of the rope, fighting with himself and the unknown in his mind. Hiding from his nightmares, people and his own eyes, using the glasses to reflect back what could be seen by him back to the exterior. He doesn't want to see, he does and he doesn't, and the cycle is burning his head. Tiptoeing at the edge of a cliff, he's starting to play with the swan dive he could take. He's been whispered too, but he was already burning before. Maybe he was born like that, and little crooked, with a spider-ish heart that pumps darkness from his core. Not like a disease, but like the soon-to-be-shed body.

They are all showing their sharp edges, just trying to lightly warn the other to not get too close, or they will be cut. Just a tiny, itchy burn of the small path of blood. But in their distance and their toying and testing and stepping and pushing away, they leave parts uncovered, slipping. They allow a little of softening, a little moment of closeness between the lone moments when they are surrounded by themselves. And in those seconds of quiet and fleeting warmth, they are already retracting their claws.

So they break. Chipping away their fragments, they are conjoined by blood and the search of something to grab on when you're drowning. Turning and twisting and hovering. They reach others, or submerge themselves in the bitter ends of having let others have a little piece of their mind.

They come undone, in ribbons of sanity. But that shall be later. For now it's just the beginning. The peek to the abyss. It's the match to the grass. Not yet a forest fire. But we all know what shall happen. It's not the knowledge of what will happen. Is the how. How will they break? How will they loose their ends? Like raggedy clothes. They stand before is, complete and made.

But at the end, unrecognizable and yet distinct. Because you are what you are, even if you shed yourself. There are things we cling to, even when we are eating ourselves away.

[erogenousmind]

Empathy

There is that wonderful point when your connection is so deep, when your minds are so perfectly in tune, that their experience passes to you, fully and completely. It no longer matters what you are doing, where your body is, or how you are feeling. You take on everything they give you. You allow yourself to become what they describe.

It can happen in the simplest of ways sometimes. Simply reading about the right experience conveyed in the right way. You begin to feel the world you read about come alive for you. You feel yourself slipping into it. You feel yourself becoming that person. Their life becomes yours. Their thoughts. Their feelings. You slip into them so easily. And when you want that experience, when you crave it deep down, it becomes so much easier for you to imagine. That connection grows that much stronger.

You see them, see yourself as them, exactly as described. You breathe the air they breathe. You see the sights they see. You think the thoughts they think. But most of all, you feel what they feel. Every touch. Every tender caress. Every forceful movement. You feel yourself pulled along by their experience. Everything else forgotten. There exist those feelings you share. The rest of the world fades away.

And sometimes those feelings can be more directed. When the rapport is just right, when you allow yourself to be swept away by my words. When your imagination is engaged properly. You can be guided. Maybe guided to deeper relaxation. Like the feeling of sinking into a warm bath. You are told to notice how that warmth seeps into your tired muscles. How it relaxes them. And so you do. And so it does. The connection transmitted through words allows you to feel it. To live it. Your body relaxes as you sink down into the warm bath. You allow yourself to slip so deep into the words, that they become your reality.

And of course, that just makes it easier. Because the feelings you receive make you want to surrender to them that much more. It feels good to give in to those feelings. And the more deeply you focus on our connection, the more deeply you feel them. Which makes it even easier to slip away.

Slip away

You are coaxed down. The words like fingers massaging your temples. And already it is easier to imagine that sensation. The gentle pressure. The release of tension. You imagine your eyes losing focus for a moment, and they do. Your body already so deeply connected to the experience being described to you.

Or maybe those fingers are in your scalp, running up and down and up and down again. And maybe that feeling spreads through your body. Relaxing away everything just as the warm bath does. And you can feel the fingers press deeper. You can imagine them penetrating into your mind. Sinking deeper. So their gentle massage relaxes away not only your tension, but also your thoughts.

And you can even imagine that feeling, fingers slipping into you. Slipping into your mind. Massaging away your thoughts. And as odd as it might feel, you know it feels exactly as it should. Your mind being gently massaged by those penetrating fingers.

And as they slip over nerves and synapses, they can trigger responses in other parts of your body. As they probe deeper into your mind, you can imagine the feelings they can illicit throughout your body. And how good those fingers can make you feel, slipping deeper into you. Knowing exactly where and how to touch. Guiding your thoughts. Guiding your feelings. And all you need to do now is feel. Lost in the story. Living it, even as everything else fades away.

You feel them test and tease. Learning your mind. Learning your body. You feel yourself respond, moving under their control. And slowly you become aware that they have found something deep inside of you. Those probing fingers caressing the deepest part of your mind. Bringing feelings to the surface. Desires. Needs. And the pleasure that comes with them. Your every response encourages them more and more. Discovering new ways of touching you. Ways of touching your mind. Manipulating your thoughts. Your feelings.

And all you do is feel. The connection too deep for you to resist. You find you have lost yourself in the sensations. In that loss of control. And that surrender feels amazing. Because I have learned how to touch your mind. How to draw those feelings from your body. And they build and build now. They train you. More and more all you want is to feel the pleasure this touch gives. You learn how good surrender can feel. You learn how exciting it can be to slip away into these words and feel what you are told to feel. Think what you are told to think. Be what you are told to be.

And as my fingers sink deeper, you find yourself overwhelmed. Your body has no choice but to give in. Your mind cries out how much you need what my touch can give. It opens to me. To my touch. And the deeper those fingers penetrate, the more control you surrender. The more pleasurable it feels. The more this connection builds and builds. Until it becomes automatic. Feeling everything described to you. Losing yourself in the experience. And letting go more and more completely every time.

Because that bond, that connection has grown so strong. Too strong for you to resist. And the sensations that flow from it too wonderful for you to want to fight. You can feel yourself leaning into it. Giving yourself to it. More and more completely as it feels better and better and you sink down deeper and deeper.

And you discover just how incredible that level of connection can be. When we are so perfectly in sync that this experience can pass to you, penetrate into you, so fully and so completely.

And you can imagine how many other amazing experiences might await you.

[godlynott]

ART DECO - THEODORE NOTT.

A fluff based on my fanfic, you can find it here 💟

(i also posted this on tiktok. my tiktok is the same user as here!)

Theo couldn’t help but glance at Rory from across the room, a quiet tug in his chest that he couldn’t explain. It was a strange thing, really. They had once been the best of friends, a bond as strong as the winds that swept through the hills of Italy where Theo spent his summers. Now, years later, all they shared was a quiet war—words sharp and gestures colder than any distance could make.

But in those fleeting moments, when their eyes met or when Rory’s lips curved into that rare, unguarded smile, Theo swore he could still see the ghost of the person he used to know. And just for a moment, just for that split second, everything felt right again.

“Che strano,” Theo muttered under his breath, realizing that maybe it wasn’t just the past pulling him toward Rory, but something else—something he couldn’t quite name, something that had never really disappeared.

Rory, noticing Theo’s soft gaze, smirked. “What? You finally missed me, Theo?”

A breath caught in Theo’s throat, and he almost felt like he could breathe again. “Something like that,” he replied, his voice quieter than he meant it to be.

Rory raised an eyebrow, stepping closer, her teasing smirk softening just a bit as she glanced at him. “You know,” she said, her voice quieter now, almost like a secret she wasn’t sure she should share, “you never really got over it, did you? All those years…”

Theo’s heart skipped, the weight of her words sinking in. He could feel the pull of her like gravity, everything inside him screaming for something he thought he’d buried long ago. But it was Rory—how could he ever truly bury something so complicated, so… hers?

He took a step forward, the distance between them suddenly too wide, and his voice was low, almost hesitant. “Maybe I didn’t want to.”

Rory didn’t say anything at first, just watched him with those eyes that always seemed to know too much. Then, with a small, almost imperceptible smile, she reached out, brushing her fingers against his. The touch was electric, a jolt that sent a spark of warmth through his chest. It was as if, in that moment, the years apart had melted away, and the ghost of their old friendship whispered in the silence.

“Funny,” Rory murmured, “I didn’t want to either.”

Theo stood frozen for a moment, the weight of her words hanging between them like a delicate thread. He wanted to say something—anything—but the truth was, he wasn’t sure what to feel. Every part of him had been trained to keep his distance, to stay cold, to guard his heart like it was something fragile, something worth hiding. But now, standing so close to Rory, with her fingers still lightly brushing against his, it was like all those years of silence had built to this one moment, this one breath.

“You always did know how to get under my skin,” he muttered, trying to keep the conversation light, but the intensity in his voice betrayed him. His heart raced in his chest, and he could feel the heat of her hand against his, even though it was just the faintest touch.

Rory chuckled softly, but there was something different in her eyes now—no longer playful, but… open. “Maybe that’s because you let me,” she said, her voice quieter, more thoughtful than he had expected. “You always did let me, Theo.”

He stared at her, caught between the impulse to laugh it off and the truth that was beginning to stir inside him. Was that what it had always been? That easy surrender to her presence, to the connection they shared? He wasn’t sure, but something about the way she looked at him now made it feel like everything was finally coming into focus.

“You don’t make it easy,” Theo replied, his voice a little rougher than usual, the words slipping out before he could stop them. He wasn’t sure if he was talking about the past or the present, about the rivalry or something else entirely. But Rory’s smile deepened, and in that moment, he couldn’t help but let out a small laugh, the sound surprising him. It felt good, like a release he hadn’t realized he needed.

Rory tilted her head, studying him for a moment, and Theo couldn’t help but feel like she was seeing through him, into the places he kept hidden. “You never did like things easy, did you?” she said softly, her voice tinged with something deeper, something unspoken.

Theo swallowed, feeling the pull between them growing stronger. He stepped closer, the space between them narrowing with every breath. His hand brushed her cheek, just a light touch, but enough to make the world feel like it had shifted. Rory’s gaze flickered to his lips, and for the briefest moment, he wondered if she was thinking the same thing he was—that maybe, just maybe, the lines between them weren’t as clear as they once seemed.

“I don’t think I’ve ever known anything easy with you, Rory,” Theo murmured, his thumb gently tracing the curve of her jaw. “And I don’t think I ever will.”

Her breath hitched at his words, but instead of pulling away, she leaned into his touch, her lips barely a breath away from his. “Good,” she whispered, her voice like a promise, “because neither have I.”

For a moment, neither of them moved. It was like the whole world had faded away, leaving just the two of them in this quiet, electric space between what was and what could be. And when their lips finally met—slow, tentative at first—it felt like coming home. Like all the time they’d spent apart had only been building up to this, to the soft press of lips against lips, to the fragile, beautiful moment where the past and present collided.

It wasn’t easy. It never had been. But maybe, just maybe, that was what made it worth everything.

As they pulled away, neither of them spoke immediately. The silence between them felt different now—not awkward, not heavy, but comfortable, like something had shifted in the air. Theo looked at Rory, his heart still racing, his mind struggling to catch up with what had just happened. Was this the beginning of something new, or was it just a fleeting moment in time? He wasn’t sure.

Rory, for her part, didn’t seem to have an answer either. But when she met his gaze, there was a softness there—a quiet understanding, as if they were both realizing, at the same time, that whatever had brought them together in the past was never truly gone. Maybe it had always been waiting for them, just buried beneath the layers of time and distance.

“You’re still a pain in my ass,” she muttered, breaking the silence, her smirk returning as she brushed a stray lock of hair behind her ear. But the edge was gone from her voice, and something deeper lingered there.

Theo chuckled, the sound low and full of warmth. “Says the girl who’s never made anything easy.”

Rory rolled her eyes but didn’t pull away when he reached for her hand again. She let him, fingers intertwining as if it was the most natural thing in the world. The tension from the years of rivalry, the hurt, the confusion—it was still there, but now, it felt like something they could face together, not as enemies, but as something more.

“So,” Rory began, her voice playful but with a hint of uncertainty, “now what?”

Theo paused, glancing down at their intertwined hands. “Now,” he said slowly, looking back up at her with a grin, “we figure it out.”

And for the first time in a long while, Theo didn’t feel like he had to have all the answers. Because with Rory standing beside him, it felt like the journey was just beginning.

[rosyhoneydew]

Ahem…. I am (not entirely) sorry for what I am about to do. But amnesia fics are my most absolute weakness… 🥹

🏥🏥🏥🏥🏥🏥🏥🏥🏥🏥🏥🏥 (12)

Buuuuut also 👀 💥💥💥💥💥💥💥💥 (8)

🤗🫶🤗🫶🤗🫶

hehehe thank you becca!!! I hope you like these snippets!! 🫶🫶

Bucktommy Amnesia Fic (🏥):

Evan is back. He curls his hand meekly around the door to Tommy’s room. “Hey,” he says. Tommy raises his eyebrows in lieu of a response. “I just talked with your doctor, he said you’re about to get outta here?” Evan walks all the way inside then, leaning against the far wall like he’s trying to be as nonchalant as possible. “Sounds like it.” “That’s great, Tommy.” He smiles a little, so tight it pulls taut across his face. “Umm,” he starts again, “you should probably know then that we- we live together.” Tommy’s head whips back to look at Evan. “You serious?” “Yeah. For 5 months now. I’m looking for a new place,” he says quickly. “It’s just taking me a little while.” He rubs at his neck sheepishly. “We hardly saw each other anyway, with our jobs, you know? And you have the guest room so…” Tommy’s brain feels more scrambled than it did yesterday. He doesn’t want this guy hanging around his house. He doesn’t know this guy. Except, he does. He knows him well enough to take him out for dinner, to fuck him, to ask him to move in, to make him his emergency contact. “I know it’s a little weird,” Evan says. “I can see if my sister’s couch is free if-” “It’s fine,” Tommy interrupts. “I’m supposed to make my life as normal as possible right? This is normal for me now, I guess.” Evan nods, eyes wide.

Tommy Free Use Fic (💥):

It was close to 9 by the time Evan walked through the door, and Tommy felt his heart jump into his throat. Talking probably was the better option. He couldn’t be sure Evan even felt the same about last night and here he was hoping he could simply bend over the counter and offer himself up. Evan was probably tired. Maybe he never wanted to do that again. Shit, Tommy had let himself get really carried away here. “Hey,” Evan said as he shut the door behind him. “Hi, sweetheart,” Tommy responded, accepting a quick peck. Evan hummed. “Smells good in here.” He placed another quick kiss on Tommy’s lips and moved to pull away when Tommy’s hands tightened their hold on Evan’s arms. He didn’t quite mean to do it, but he’d been thrumming with need all day. Not just arousal, though he felt like he could get hard just from the sight of Evan tonight, but something deeper. A need for connection or closeness. A need to be needed, to be filled. The thought that he might have to let go of Evan, even just while they ate, sent an unpleasant roll through his stomach. “You okay?” Evan asked with genuine concern on his face. Tommy nodded quickly, opening his mouth to speak before snapping it closed and pulling Evan to him tightly. Evan takes in a quick breath, arms grabbing onto Tommy’s back. “What is it, Tommy?” Maybe if Tommy had spent the day clearing his head he’d have words to use, but as it is, he squeezes Evan closer, fitting his still soft cock into the lower part of Evan’s belly, and rubs himself there. “Oh,” Evan breathes out. “You wanna fuck me, baby?” Tommy shakes his head. No. “No?” Evan asks. “What do you want? Want me to fuck you? Open you up nice and sweet? Hmm?” Tommy pulls away then, keeping his eyes low and turning around to pull his jeans down, hold himself open and show Evan. Look, he wants to say. Look at what I did, for you.

Make Me Write

[vickytaa]

𝓕𝓲𝓻𝓼𝓽 𝓬𝓸𝓷𝓽𝓪𝓬𝓽

𝐵𝑒𝓁𝓁𝒶 𝓍 𝒞𝒽𝓇𝒶𝓉𝓉

The first week at the new school wasn't easy, but it wasn't hard either. Bella was struggling to adjust to the change, the loss of her old friends weighing heavily on her. Thankfully, for now, her only concern was keeping up with her studies. Or so it seemed.

Solitude was a familiar companion. Visits to her parents' homes often meant hours spent alone because neither of them had much time for her. The absence of siblings and a lack of social skills made it difficult to connect with others. Her parents had cultivated an image of her that left her feeling insecure and fearful of judgment. As a result, she never had many friends, let alone a boyfriend or anything like that.

And that brings us to this moment. Bella was sitting alone on the grass, in the corner outside the school.

She craved peace and quiet, and there was no one to share it with. Unfortunately, this was becoming a daily routine.

The sound of approaching footsteps shattered her tranquility. With each step, her heart raced. What if they were looking for her? What if they had found her? What if-

Her thoughts were interrupted by the small figures in front of her. Thea, the cheerleading captain, stood before her, along with her friends. Bella's heart sank as she raised her head to meet a pair of very fake faces, 'Faking it more than my mom when she swears I'm not the problem,' Bella thought bitterly.

"What are you doing here?" Thea asked, attempting a soft tone that failed miserably. It was common knowledge why she was the most popular girl in school. Her short, silky blonde hair cascaded over her shoulders, highlighting the green of her eyes. She was truly a beauty; nothing compared to Bella, whose dark brown hair was long and wavy, and her eyes matched her hair. Thea was confident, or at least she pretended to be, while Bella simply hid in the shadows.

"Uh- I was eating lunch..." Bella replied, her words tripping over each other, and her voice trembling. 'Great, now everyone knows I'm scared of them,' she thought. Bella heard one of the girls behind Thea laugh at her.

"Oh... poor thing... are you alone? We can keep you company." Thea offered, and for a moment, Bella thought maybe she wasn't as bad as people said. She and her minions began to sit beside her, all with a small, evil smile that Bella tried to ignore but made her incredibly uncomfortable.

There was an awkward silence, but Bella was too scared to say anything stupid, so she decided it was best to remain quiet. Some of the girls began to giggle softly, knowing what was coming, while Bella looked at them confused.

A few started to grab her food, "Let's see what you have here..." one said as she took her apple, "But it was..." Bella began to speak, trying to grab her food back, "Friends share, right?" Thea said. She tried to resist, but she clearly couldn't fight ten girls grabbing her lunch.

Suddenly, one of the girls threw some tomato sauce on her white shirt, "Hey!" Bella said, "Oh, don't get mad, it was an accident," the girl said, laughing in her face.

It was obvious they weren't trying to be friends, they were making fun of her. "Why are you-" "Ash! You talk too much, Bella!" Thea complained with a smile, obviously enjoying her power over her. The other girls began to "accidentally" spill things on Bella, laughing in her face. Her eyes began to fill with tears, but she fought hard not to let them fall.

Before Thea could continue her torment, a voice, or rather, two voices, interrupted her. "Leave her alone, Thea." The deep voice came from somewhere nearby, but Bella couldn't see because the girls were blocking her view, aside from her blurry, tear-filled eyes.

"Back off," another voice, similar to the first, commanded. Bella was terrified, but at the same time, grateful that someone was stopping them. "Oh, come on guys, seriously? You're going to defend this loser?" Thea said, standing up. The tears were getting harder to control. The memories flooded back after hearing that nickname.

"Leave her alone," the voice repeated firmly. This time, the girls started to get up and move away from Bella. Thea looked back at her with contempt, "This isn't over," she said. A shiver ran down Bella's spine, clearly scared of what might happen next.

"Yes, it is," one of the boys said. After the group of bullies left, the brothers sat down next to her, "Are you okay?" Matt asked, but Bella didn't answer. She didn't trust them very much because they were popular too.

"You can trust us, Bella," Chris said, his voice softer this time. Matt pulled a tissue from his pocket and handed it to her, "Here, don't cry anymore," he said gently. Bella tried to trust them a little and began to wipe her tears with the tissue.

Both boys had a small smile on their faces, happy to be able to comfort her and mesmerized by her beauty. Her nose and cheeks were a bit red from crying, her eyes matched her long hair, and her clothes were as delicate as she was.

"Seriously, you're going to defend the freak?" A boy interrupted their little moment. Chris and Matt turned to see who it was, and Bella took the opportunity to run to the bathroom. She didn't need anyone else seeing her cry.

"Shit" they both muttered, angry that their friend had ruined the encounter.

𝐕 -

[pureshoney]

"i don't think i'm doing anything wrong. you should be stronger than giving in to my temptation, princess. maybe if eve didn't eat the apple, the world wouldn't be as it is now. the devil's always going to tempt you, ainsley. you just have to be stronger," he's always thought femme was the most beautiful woman he'd ever been given the gift of laying his eyes on, but there's something different right now. something about those teary eyes staring up at him as she pushed herself far past her limits all because of how desperate she was to pleasure him. and maybe now wasn't the time for it, but her femininity flowed through every gesture. something was captivating about the soft curves of her silhouette, the gentle sway of her dress as she moved her body and bobbed her head to take him down into her tight, warm throat. "maybe you would? i don't fuckin' believe you. i know you, ainsley. i know how this nasty cunt throbs just at the thought of me. i know i fill these thoughts of yours when i'm at work; know you think about me when you play with yourself. damn right, you'd wait for me on that corner every night …" the male watches her as she gets into position for him, eyes devouring that tight body covered by her red dress. mouth already salivating at the prospect of burying his aching length inside of her. "what's so hard about it, baby? if you want to be a good girl, you'd do anything to get there. you need some motivation? perhaps you need a little more determination?" tattooed hand cups around her wet pussy lips before pushing middle digit in between folds and circling around her swollen clit while his other hand works to pump his own shaft. attention moves to the back of her head as she starts speaking, moving to align his tip with her entrance. "he's gonna be so disappointed," words come out with a tsk before sinking himself into her with a loud groan that echoes throughout the opulent structure. "always still so tight for me," feels like they were two connecting puzzle pieces.

"i know that you're doing it right now", honeyed reply slips from well tended to lips, hues rolling at his laughter. "i wouldn't be doing any of this if you didn't tempt me so much, daddy. honestly, i think that you should be repenting too." perhaps they were as awful as one another, although ainsley looked the most debauched by far — thick strings of drool dripping from her chin toward her dress, eyes glassy from the tears she'd almost shed from gagging on his dick. technically abel was in control, bucking himself against her face and stretching out her throat rhythmically, but ainsley was the reason he'd gotten to this point, wasn't she? there was a power in being wanted by a man like abel, the personification of bad decisions and living life on a knife edge and she was the girl who forced those groans from his mouth, who got his dick leaking sometimes by just dressing pretty for him. those tears come as he taunts her, prick hitting the back of her throat and earning those trails of liquid tinged with mascara. huffing when he refuses to empty himself down her throat she merely stares up at him, tongue dragging along her lip to gather her spit and his pre-cum, swallowing as a coy smile appears. "maybe i would, maybe i'd see that sleek car and just know you'd fuck me good, baby. that you'd make me scream and forget my name. i'd wait at that corner for you every night." palms lay flat on the cool floor as she lowers herself further, tits stinging as she hears him move behind her. the anticipation earns a shiver, a low and slow intake of breath as she waits. thighs spread as he pushes at her dress, relief at her bare pussy finally being exposed to both him and the church around them. "mm, i told you father. i can be good, but sometimes it gets so hard though ... " body jumps as he palms her cunt, hues squeezing shut as she thrusts her ass up higher. yet the femme forces her eyes to open, tilting her head upwards to stare at that large cross and the figure carved in it's middle. "i need daddy to fuck me so bad, jesus. i n — need his fat cock pushing inside me, filling me up with his cum and making me feel like the best girl. i can't live without daddy's cock in me, i'm sorry i'm such a filthy little whore jesus but it's just too good to give up." voice is a rasp, a whiny plea as she rolls her hips back and down, rutting her soaked cunt against his hand.

[aparticularbandit]

I woke up today no thoughts, brain empty.

Which is fine.

I've already hit word count today, so I may take a break from all the things. Nothing seems...interesting right now. All is still and quiet.

That said, OAEI looks like it'll be 75-85k (I expect it to pass 75k because I'm about at 63k, I have five Remnants chapters to put in (1k-2k a piece, probably), and maybe five other chapters left not including potential epilogue. 75k is a small amount, all things considered).

It also looks like the time span of the fic will be roughly 10 days (10.5 if you count Day Zero).

It may only be nine. I've got four non-memories chapters left. It really depends on what happens on Day Nine.

...it might actually be only nine days because it would be the end of the ninth when the thing happens, so it would have to be during the late hours of Day Nine or the early hours of Day Ten.

...I should make it the early hours of Day Ten just so that it's nearly exactly ten days - a few hours at the end of Day Zero and a few hours at the beginning of Day Ten.

Hm.

[katnissmellarkkk]

favorite book quotes :

“It feels like such a luxury, sleeping with Peeta again. I didn’t realize until now how starved I’ve been for human closeness. For the feel of him beside me in the darkness. I wish I hadn’t wasted the last couple of nights shutting him out. I sink down into sleep, enveloped in his warmth, and when I open my eyes again, daylight’s streaming through the windows.”

- catching fire (2009) by suzanne collins

[greatgoddyke]

time to make your choice only you can be the one

[bluestsdays]

while tonight hasn’t shed too much light on what exactly they were or where they were going, it did prove that they could still partake in moments like this one; fleeting, wondrous moments that reaffirm just how strong of a connection they share. the lack of clarity might not fare well in the long run, but for right now, she’s just thankful they’re no longer at each other’s throats, saying things they didn’t mean, allowing jealousy to hijack all their thoughts and emotions, lashing out in turn. but she could do this, she thinks, she could be whatever he needed her to be, whenever he needed her— just for more of this, more of him and them together, even if it wasn’t exactly how it used to be. whatever piece he was willing to give her, she would accept, wholeheartedly. and maybe it wasn’t healthy, nor did she think it would please the others in their life, but she couldn’t deny this, couldn’t deny how badly she still needed him in her life. and it’s nice to hear that it’s reciprocated, that he, too, hasn’t gone a day without wishing they were together, wanting her by his side just like she wanted him, too. she didn’t know what lay ahead for them, but fuck, she knew she would do anything to see him smile again and again like he is right now. it forces a smile upon her own lips, letting out a soft chuckle. “ no, i don’t want you to keep your mouth shut, because that would suck for me, just… try and be less hot, yeah ? seriously, that should be your resolution. i know that’s gonna be like, borderline impossible for you, but just try, please, for my self control’s sake, ” she teases in return, breath stuttering slightly as he pulls her hand into his own, fingers now interlaced as they slowly but surely continue to close the distance between them, just like always they never could stay apart for long, even in the aftermath of such a strained evening. electricity shoots up through her fingers at his touch, traveling up her arm, then all the way down to the base of her spine where it pools, leaving her warm and buzzing with something that feels like anticipation. and she knows they shouldn’t do this, that they’re falling back into familiar patterns, that she should be concerned with whether or not her boyfriend really was freaking out inside, but she can’t help it— not when he moves closer, when she looks up at him and sees everything she’s ever wanted, every dream she’s ever had, looking back at her. “ mm, yeah, no, you do not need to hear my unfiltered thoughts right now. ” she says, quietly. and she can feel his gaze on her lips, only because her gaze traces his, too, teeth sinking into her lower lip as she witnesses his fingertips splay across the bone of her hip, stifling a shiver. 3, 2, 1… and her free hand finds the curve of his jaw just as the shouts of happy new year ring out from inside. and there’s no fighting it, how she leans in to capture his lips with her own, fireworks exploding beneath her skin, reminded of the last time they were intertwined like this, just a few weeks ago. still, she’s attempting to transmit all the hope and love and longing she still feels for him into the kiss, to subconsciously tell him that this wasn’t over for her, that it wouldn’t ever be over, no matter how many new years come and go.

where did they go from here? he didn’t have an answer for that. now that he thinks about it, he never has. all they’ve been doing is taking it day-by-day, doing whatever they could within their power to just figure it out. neither were perfect at it, in fact, miller’s been entirely flawed in this process, clinging to whatever remnants were still between them, no matter how crumbled and shattered they had become. it’s better than not trying, he thinks— to have allowed the physical distance, the pain of seeing her with someone else, get the better of him. would rather fight everyday, tooth and nail, to remain in her life, if that’s where she wanted him. he would do anything she asked. and of course he wishes this had all been different for them; that he’d found a job locally, instead, that he’d fought harder when she insisted that he just go, aim to reach dreams that came to fruition, that only ever felt possible, because of her. it wasn’t the cards they’d been dealt, though, and that’s a painful truth he’ll always have to live with, the ache if it radiating in his chest, cracking his ribcage. at least, now, they were both willing to make this work, as best they could, no matter how confusing, how difficult, it’s all become. that’s why there’s relief twining into the smile that tugs at his mouth— at least they had this, here, time spent together, grounding them in a moment that will soon be lost. “ i always want you around, too— there’s never been a day when that hasn’t been in the case. ” there never would be, either. and even if his desires run much deeper than that, even if he isn’t entirely sure he can only be her friend, he chooses not to speak on it, knowing how much damage he’s already done, tonight. “ and i’ll try to not make things too hard on you, hm? even if i can’t help it… not sure what you want me to do when it comes to just standing, but i’ll do it. i’ll even learn to keep my mouth shut— maybe they can be my new year’s resolutions. ” he teases, corners of his mouth only lifting until it’s a full-pledged grin, across his countenance. it’s safe here, again, this space between them, which only emboldens him all the more, turning his hand until he can lace their fingers together, feeling the jolts of electricity that course between them. “ i happen to like your unfiltered thoughts, though, ” even if they’re hard to hear. “ actually, maybe that should be one of your resolutions; think i want to hear more of them. ” because this streak of honesty, as difficult as it has been to hear, at least meant he knew where they stood. and he hears it at the same time she does, the echoes of voices inside, counting down to the start of a new year. it cuts him off from saying that he always wants her, always has, and he doesn’t know if that’ll ever go away. he doesn’t make any effort to move from this spot, though, gaze soft, knowing, as he traces the contours of her face, all the parts of her that he has memorised. “ yeah, we probably should… fletcher will be looking for you too, right? probably freaking out that he’s lost sight of you. ” his words aren’t bitter either, the strain of their night dissipating with each moment that passes. his gaze ends up at her lips eventually, drawing around their outline, a small step closer without thinking twice about it, free hand reaching for her hip, fingers splayed along it’s most prominent part, 3, 2, 1…

[muse-write]

.