#not that i'm always thinking about it or anything...

[scentedluminarysoul]

God just people going "I don't want to sin/be tempted" when asked if they want chocolate...

My classmate made a New Year's resolution of not eating ANY sugar, not even fruits. He was the most annoying and miserable man for weeks, until he obviously stopped

It's really terrifying and sad how prevalent eating disorders are and how accepted as well

dude not to be a bitch but starting my new job and spending every day surrounded by normies is really giving me a good long look at how fucked up the rhetorical landscape surrounding food and fatness is. the other week i overheard a guy confidently saying that the body doesn't actually require sugar and that if it wasn't for our dastardly perfidious taste buds we'd never crave it(???). just now my manager showed me this video of some dude scaremongering about pringles by saying that their ratio of sugar/salt/fat is CALCULATED to TRICK THE BRAIN into WANTING MORE. bitch you mean they made an effort to make their commercially produced snacks taste good? somebody phone the fucking fire department

[musicallisto]

hello beloved I hope your shoulder surgery goes well!!! as a little distraction can I please ask for a franco colapinto x driver!reader, enemies to lovers? love u and thinking of u always xoxo

· · · · ♡ BOOM, CRASH! (fc43)

… starring franco colapinto x f!driver!reader ... 2.4k words ... in which you get into a nasty crash, and the first person to visit you in the hospital is the last guy you'd ever imagined being worried about you. ... warnings for crash, hospital, injuries, blood, nothing too graphic i think! reader is a bit of a bully tbhh but it is a cutthroat sport 😌 ... if you haven't noticed already, these are all very self-indulgent for me, and this is no exception.

Ironically, the last words you remember telling Franco Colapinto before you barrel into the wall at turn 12 were “Don't crash it.”

“What?”

“Don't crash it,” you repeat pointedly. “Logan wasn't exactly irreproachable in that regard. Budget cap's drawing closer.”

Your smile is wide but dulcet, not quite reaching your eyes, and your teeth are sharp and gritted. To any inopportune cameras that would be pointed at you right now, you only look like a well-meaning driver giving your rookie teammate advice before his second-ever F1 race... but neither you nor Franco miss the electricity crackling in the hallway outside the driver rooms.

“What makes you think I'm gonna crash it?" the Argentinian bites back, all fluttering eyelashes and wolfish smile. Unfazed, as always. Grinds your gears like little else can. "If anything, you be careful to not crash into me. Since I'm starting ahead on the grid and all.”

“Right, I forget it's your first time in Baku. You'll see what I mean soon enough, anyway.”

Your steps lead you down the hallway and to the garages mechanically, a path you've taken dozens of times, wearing different colored suits, following behind different teammates in stride. And this year's Williams blue would've suited you perfectly... if it didn't come attached with the pretentious goofball traipsing behind you.

You don't even bother looking back when you speak again. You raise your chin and brace yourself for the artificial lights of the pitlane.

“Good luck, or whatever.”

“It wouldn't kill you to be nice, you know?”

“Wouldn't kill you to know your place.”

The door handle creaks beneath your gloved hand, drowning out whatever it is Franco mutters in Spanish on the other end of the hall—”re amargada la piba esta” he mumbles to no one but himself—, and at last you are safe, at peace in the nervous bustle of a garage entirely devoted to you.

Sure, getting a new teammate midseason is a tough predicament to find oneself in: a whole new dynamic to establish, a whole routine to fall into. And newbies always get the chance to make good first impressions; not the girl who’s been sitting in the car for two years. You’d told yourself you wouldn’t mind it—Carlos Sainz will be snatching your first driver privileges next year anyway—but it would be easier to comply if the aforementioned new teammate wasn’t an annoying pain in the ass, flirting and laughing his way through the paddock with that detached nonchalance that believes everyone must be wrapped around his finger, and then having the gall to outqualify you on one of your favorite circuits. On his first-ever time there!

So yes, maybe it’s your ego taking up too much space in the tight cockpit of your Williams, obscuring your vision. Maybe it’s the disastrous grip you’ve reported twice now on the radio—Okay, Y/N, we heard that and we’ll get back to you.

Whatever it is, somewhere around lap 20, your car oversteers into a wide spin right as you enter the rapid turn. The steering wheel snaps out of your hands, and it’s like a giant strangles you with all its might for a blink of an eye, barely even a second.

You only know you’ve hit the wall—hard—from the ringing in your ears and soreness of your jaw. What used to be your front right tire lies in front of your smashed wing, rubber and carbon scattered pitifully. Your finger shakes when you lift it and press the radio button.

“I’m OK… I think.”

A flash of red catches the corner of your eye. You’re not sure if it’s from the flag being waved outside of track limits, a Haas zooming past in the corner, or… it’s hot, and viscous on your eyebrow, dripping into your eyes. You bring your hand to your forehead, where your helmet is crushed inward, just above your left eye. Smashed into your forehead.

Then everything kind of blurs together. You vaguely feel someone helping you out of the wreckage, their distant yapping about concussion symptoms not helping your light-headedness at all. You think you slip out of consciousness for the first time then, on the track still, because your next memory is of an ambulance—or what you assume to be an ambulance, you’ve never ridden in one before, and you even think to yourself this new procedure is pretty excessive from the FIA, the medical car was quite sufficient—and then it’s back to nothingness until you wake up for good on a stretcher, hooked to some sort of medical tube—perfusion?—as you’re being ushered into a quiet hospital room.

The nurse who visits you is sweet, filling in the blanks in slow, accented English. The gash to your forehead is pretty deep, but nothing the surgeon doesn’t see at least once a week! (At that, you lift a groggy hand above your brow bone, where you feel a thick bandage.) A few stitches later and you’re good as new, though the blood loss and concussion combined left you pretty weak, and justify keeping you in observation for the night. It’s just protocol, you’re probably used to hospital visits in that line of work of yours, she jokes—and you know you’ve recovered almost all your mental acuity because you get offended at that. No, you don’t usually crash. In fact, you haven’t all season…

And it had to be today of all days, in Baku… after you told Franco to not crash it.

When the nurse leaves the room with the promise she’ll be back in an hour, you let out a long, dreary sigh. Fernando Alonso’s grainy voice over the radio comes to mind. ¡Karma!

Night falls quickly outside your window with nothing to kill time but your phone. After catching up on the race results—somehow you’re too exhausted to feel irritated at Colapinto’s points finish—and posting a reassuring Instagram story for your followers, you’re left to the mercy of your ruminating thoughts. Sleep is impossible to catch; the adrenaline of the race hasn’t worn off yet, and you’ve been knocked out so long now you’re desperate to leave this stretcher.

You’ve just about decided to call the nurse for an early discharge when a shadow appears behind the door’s little windowpane, hesitates for a second, and then knocks. Medical personnel wouldn’t bother; it’s probably your family, or maybe even Vowles, or…

“Hey, how… che, estás hecha mierda.”

You tense immediately when you catch the brown waves of hair and unmistakable accent as Franco walks into your hospital room. He looks genuinely stumped, like he hadn’t expected to see you in such bad condition, so much so he forgets to shut the door behind him.

For some reason, the sight endears you. Makes you want to take him in your arms, feel his realness in this hallucinatory evening. What a ridiculous thought!

“Stop it with the Spanish,” you protest, devoid of your usual fire however. “Maybe it works on your fangirls, but not on me.”

“I said you look like shit.”

“Oh.” You look him straight in the eye, the silliness of the situation dawning on you, and against all odds you start to laugh. A real laugh, more than a chuckle, one that sends phantom pains stabbing through your sore abdomen. “Well if that’s all you’re gonna say, you can stick to Spanish! I don’t want to hear it.”

What did the nurse say about the anesthesia’s side effects? Do they include feeling a little glad and relieved to see your detested teammate? To know he’s the first person to check up on you?

Whatever the reason, you’re laughing, absurdly, and so is Franco, chuckling to himself as he closes the door and drags a chair closer to your bed. His eyes crinkle like a little kid’s, and that’s when you notice his disheveled appearance. Cheeks a little flushed, hair tousled like he’s just run a marathon, he’s wearing a crumpled-up Williams shirt, no doubt the first thing he could get his hands on after the race. It hits you then that he’s probably just off media duties, and the fact he’s alone, with no team delegation in tow, indicates he left early. Just to get to you. To make sure you were alright.

You are a competitor, but you aren’t a monster. The idea Franco couldn’t be bothered to wait for James, or anyone else, tugs at your heartstrings.

“Thank God you told me not to crash it, huh?” he teases between chuckles.

“Shut up.”

“Careful, Y/N, the budget cap is coming for you,” he wiggles his fingers over your face like a looming ghost.

You turn your head away to face the wall, huffing in exasperation, but a throbbing pain traverses your skull, and you wince. Franco’s eyes darken, smile fading into a grave expression.

You rarely see him like this outside of the helmet. It’s novel, but it’s welcome. Almost attractive, in a way.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I… My helmet smashed into my forehead. I was bleeding pretty bad, apparently, they had to stitch me up. I got concussed too. Aren’t helmets supposed to absorb these hits?”

“Concussed?” he repeats, and holds out his hand in a peace sign. “How many fingers?”

You stick out your tongue at the Argentinian, flipping him the bird.

“And now?”

“Ah, come on, don’t be so mean,” Franco chuckles, scooting a little closer to your stretcher with his chair. Unfazed, as always. But this time it doesn’t peeve you; you’re rather thankful for his cheeky banter, actually. For a moment, in the blur of cold white lights and carbon fiber debris, you’d started to fear you could lose it for good. “We were just starting to become friends!”

“That’s because I’m concussed. I don’t want to be friends with you, we’re rivals.”

“Well the whole rivals thing isn’t working very well for you lately. Maybe you’re better off being friends with me.”

You roll your eyes, but the gnawing anxiety that roars in your stomach whenever someone pits you against the rookie stays quiet for once. Perhaps you’re still under the influence of the tranquilizers… or perhaps those brown eyes holding you in their light, tender in a way you’ve never seen them before, make it harder to get mad at him.

“I’ll consider it.”

And you don’t mean it just yet, but you don’t don’t mean it. What do you even hate Franco Colapinto for? Stealing the spotlight from you just two weeks into his career? Flirting with every living being on the paddock except you? Or forcing you to up your game and face your fears?

A stabbing pain crushes your skull all of a sudden, and you shut your eyes, teeth gritted and muscles taut, to try and breathe it out… to no avail. When you open your eyes, Franco is staring at you, brows furrowed in that same serious, concerned expression that sends a wholly different type of pins and needles through your body.

“Everything alright?”

“No… The painkillers. I need another ketoprofen,” you whine, squinting your eyes against the harsh hospital lightning.

“Should I call the nurse?”

“No, they’re on the table over there,” you gesture blindly. “There’s a glass too.”

Only sounds inform you of what’s going on once you close your eyes, faint lights and colors barely piercing through your eyelids. The rustling of fabric, then someone fumbling with cardboard and pills, your sink opening, and then cautious footsteps stopping at the edge of your bed.

“Here.”

You take the pill between weak fingers and fight with all your might to sit up straight in the bed without moving your head… but the soreness and exhaustion from the race and surgery overpower you. So much for neck strength.

“I can’t,” you huff out in defeat. “I can’t tilt my head.”

“It’s okay. Take the pill,” Franco orders softly, and you put the drug on your tongue, too tired to raise the outrage of him bossing you around.

Slowly, carefully, Franco brings the rim of the glass to your lips, and you drink all that you can, training your attention on the medication going down your throat—and not on your teammate’s intense gaze fixed on your mouth, nor the proximity of your bodies or his slightly ragged breath.

“Thank you,” you exhale when you’re done.

Luckily for him, he has his back turned to you when you speak, setting the empty glass down on the table, so you don’t notice his bashful smile. He’s never heard you so docile, affable, even, and though he likes it when you bite back… it feels great, too, to know there is a way to pierce that armor of yours.

“Franco,” you call out to him, neither of you missing how this is one of the first times you’ve called him by his first name. “Do you mind… staying? Just until James or someone else gets here. It gets so boring.”

He spins on his heels in disbelief, scrutinizing you in search of mockery, or irony, or your usual callousness… but all he reads is earnest and the slightest hint of embarrassment, all he sees is your outstretched hand. So he brushes it with his, not daring to hold it purposefully just yet. Like he doesn’t want to overstay his welcome into your bubble.

“Yeah, sure. But only so you won’t get bored.”

“Of course,” you smile faintly as he sits back down on his chair. Your eyes meet in newfound amusement, maybe even temporary fondness. “Don’t go around thinking I like you.”

“Me? I would never. We’re rivals.”

You give a small appreciative nod, and after some instants of silence, clear your throat and ask him to recount the end of the race. Just as you expected, his storytelling is dramatic and entertaining, interspersed with words he doesn’t remember how to say in English and the unmissable zest of grid gossip Franco always brings to his tales. You chuckle, gasp, and pester even, as much as you can with your aching skull and limbs… and barely notice the minutes ticking by, or how you wish the rest of your team would never show up, your distaste for Franco slaking.

Maybe you can be persuaded into liking his presence, after all. So long as he stays out of the car, though… and remains your personal nurse.

… f1 taglist; @retvenkos @giuseppe-yuki (want to be added? send me an ask!)

[letorip]

can u give us a summary of kiss with a fist 4 without spoiling?

lol... here's a spoiler

kiss with a fist [iv]

"you smashed a plate over my head, then I set fire to our bed"

===+++===

pairing: tara carpenter x reader

summary: just as things begin to complicate even more between you and tara, her life becomes even more complicated

warnings: blood, angst, curse words, kissing, borderline sexual content

word count: 4.2k

A/N: i contemplated doing this in so many ways and i ended up thinking it was just funnier if i answered with the literal story. so... it was at least funny to me. it's shorter than normal, just because i didn't want to split up an action scene that'll take place next time, so expect a much longer part next time.

===+++===

===+++===

You didn’t like police stations very much, and you weren’t exactly doing a good job of keeping it hidden. Your knee bounced against the dusty linoleum in a quiet tapping noise, and although you yourself couldn’t hear it with the endless amount of phones ringing and shouting down the hall, Tara clearly could.

Her head rested on your shoulder, where you had slumped, and she placed a hand right upon your knee, stopping it from bouncing anymore. Her dark eyes looked up at you. “You’re making me even more nervous.”

“Sorry,” you rushed, quick to pull your knee away from her hand.

Tara frowned, looking back down to the tiling. “Of course this had to happen.”

You furrowed your eyebrows. “What do you mean?” She shrugged, and you had to nudge her gently. “Tara?”

“Nothing,” she murmured. "Just Sam's license and her getting attacked at the bodega... I wasn't there, (Y/n)."

"You couldn't have known," you said, frowning at her. "Everyone thought all the 'Stab' shit was over."

"Yeah," Tara scoffed. "Mindy always says lightning doesn't strike twice, but I'm starting to wonder if that's really true."

"Or maybe it's just a crazed copycat. There's no way of knowing it's actually after you yet."

"That's not what Sam'll say." She had an uncharacteristic look of defeat in her eyes that you hadn't seen before. Tara was a spitfire, even to Sam. But she looked beside herself, wallowing against the soft fabric of your jumper. "Sam'll say that Ghostface is back. That we need to leave."

"Maybe she's right," you shrug.

"Maybe," Tara said. "But I don't want to go. I don't want to leave. I want to live, but... if it's not him, I can't just keep living my life on the run from whoever's chasing me. That means Amber won."

"Amber?"

"Yeah... Amber. Amber Freeman. She was my, uh, girlfriend."

"Oh," you frown. Tara's dark eyes looked up at you, nervously watching your reaction.

"Yeah... and she was Ghostface."

"Oh," you repeated. Tara never spoke about her much, and neither had the rest of the core four, really. It had never really dawned on you to ask, just because it seemed important to Tara, and for the longest time, what was important to her wasn't important to you. "Are you still nursing that wound?" you asked.

She smiled, but it did not reach the corners of her eyes. "Sometimes. It feels weird since she almost killed me, but there are times I really miss her. Grief demands to be felt, and all."

"Even if it's a murderous psychopath?" you asked with a smile.

"Yeah," she snorted, turning her head on your shoulder. "Even if it's a murderous psychopath." Then, she grew serious. "We should probably talk about last night, right?"

You froze, swallowing what felt like a lump in your throat. "Uh, now?"

"Well, it's just, I kind of felt something... I don't know. I know we said this was fake and all, and I don't know if you have your eye on anyone else right now," Tara began to ramble, "so if you do, don't feel pressured to agree to anything. I know I kind of made a messy situation out of this, and I don't even know where to go--"

But she was interrupted by the door down the hall opening. It was loud enough that your attention was pulled towards it, and through it came a woman with a stack of files in her arm. She smiled warmly at Tara, walking right over, and Tara seemed to recognise her, sitting up in her chair.

The warmth on your chest where her head had been was gone in an instant, and you would have been lying if you said you hadn't selfishly begun to miss it.

"Tara, right?" the woman asked with a smile, and Tara nodded, eyebrows furrowed in confusion and an underlying suspicion. But the woman just gave her a gentle smile.

"Kirby," she said, extending her arm out for a handshake. "Kirby Reed. I used to go to high school with Sam, and now I'm with the FBI."

Your eyes widened. If the FBI were now involved with the case, it was definitely not a good sign. You felt Tara's hand go to yours, squeezing it. If you were to ask her about it, she'd likely say it was to calm the nervousness you hadn't been able to hide on your face, but you knew that it was to steady herself, if anything.

"FBI?" Tara asked. "So it's really him?"

Kirby frowned. "I'm hoping it's some copycat, but from what I've seen so far, I'm not too sure. Is Sam still back there being questioned?"

Tara nodded, grimacing. "Apparently, both of us are people of interest. Our roommate's dad is on the case."

"Well," Kirby said, "I'll see if I can help him." She turned to you. "And who's this?" she asked.

"Uh--" you started, but Tara shook her head, interrupting.

"--(Y/n) isn't involved," she glared, defending you with a ferocity in her voice.

Kirby gave you a look over. "Are you sure? I don't mean to disrespect either of you, but are you sure you can trust them, Tara? It's never who you expect."

Tara nods. "I know they're not Ghostface. (Y/n) wouldn't lie."

(Y/n) wouldn't lie. The sentence made you sick to your stomach. You could see Calvin in your mind, laughing at how you got yourself into this situation. Alisha would've found it funny, too. You swallowed, standing up from the chair. You smiled weakly at Tara. "It's okay, Tar. I'll go home... just let me know if you need to leave... for the... uh, arrangement, or whatever."

She nodded, mouth drawn into a line. "Yeah... see you later... Duck," she said, trying equally as hard to smile. You turned around, walking out.

===+++===

You had pretty much collapsed into bed, the moment you got home. It had been an exhausting few hours, what with finishing your model and then rushing with Tara to the police station. Your final class of the semester was later in the day, so you would take any sort of sleep you could get.

And the sleep you took, waking up a few hours later with mussed-up hair and a final to get over and done with. You grabbed the model and your backpack, heading for the train station, and finally checking your phone for the first time in a little while.

Little Shit (do not pick up): mindy wants everyone at the park later, after your final

Little Shit (do not pick up): good luck with that, btw

Little Shit (do not pick up): also we should still probably talk about last night i didn't get to finish earlier

You gave a thumbs-up to the first message, and quickly typed back a thanks, before tucking it into your pocket. The critique was boring, but you couldn't help but feel yourself swell with pride when your professor complimented the small amount of green space you had put within the actual walls of the building. It had been Tara's idea, and you reminded yourself to thank her later. Now all you had to do was go to Mindy's weird meeting, and you could begin your break.

The group was sitting on a group of benches near the green, with Mindy hovering over them, her arms crossed. When she saw you coming, she raised her eyebrow at you in suspicion. You rolled your eyes, coming to sit down next to where Tara had saved you a seat.

She sent you a small smile when you did, weaving your fingers together. You knew that to the group she was just doing it because you and Tara were allegedly a couple, but just to you it felt like so much more than that.

And it made you feel a little bit sick, again.

"How'd your final go?" she asked, and it made your heart stop for a moment, the way her warm brown eyes looked in the soft sunlight. You shrugged, but could not stop the smile spreading itself on your face.

"The professor liked your idea."

"Really?!" she asked, sounding super excited, and you nodded. "Well now who's silly, for telling me it was a bad idea?"

"Well because it is a silly idea, genuinely who would think of that."

"I would. It isn't silly, it's cool."

"I'm afraid cool doesn't always work, Tara."

"It did this time," she said smugly, sticking her tongue out at you. You rolled your eyes, knowing but not hating that she'd be gloating about it for weeks.

"Lovebirds, cut the chit-chat," Mindy shot, glaring in your direction, and Tara huffed in annoyance but begrudgingly turned towards her. "Now, as terrifying as it all is, I’m actually glad I get a chance to redeem myself for not calling the killers last time."

"Mindy," Sam chided, arms crossed over her chest.

"Right, sorry," she said. "The way I see it, someone’s out to make a sequel to the requel."

"What’s a requel?" Anika asked, leaning forward as if trying to understand her girlfriend's antics. You didn't know either.

"You’re beautiful, sweetie, but let’s hold questions to the end," Mindy teased.

From next to you, Tara looked more worried. "Stab 1 took place in Woodsboro, but Stab 2 took place in college…"

Sam tensed. "So you think the killer’s copying the second movie?"

"Like a homage!" Chad suggested, looking proud of himself. The rest of the group shot him a look. "What? You all I know took French, it should not be a surprise that I know that word."

"Just a little bit," Tara teased. He sent her a small smile, one that you knew came from his massive crush on her. It only made you feel a bit worse about the both of you.

"That’s one possibility," Mindy said, nodding at the suggestion. "Heroes now in college? Check. Suspicious new characters brought in to round out the suspect list and/or body count?" she looked at you, Ethan, Quinn, and Anika. "Check, check, check, and check."

"I really don't like this," Ethan said.

"But it can’t only be about Stab 2," Mindy continued. Tara's eyebrows furrowed.

"Why not?" she asked.

Mindy had a glint in her eye. "It would make sense if this were just a sequel. But we’re not in a sequel, because nobody just makes sequels anymore."

"So what is it?" you asked, deciding to bite on her theory.

"We’re in a franchise. And there are certain rules to a continuing franchise," she replied.

Sam sighed. "I had a feeling."

But Mindy wasn't deterred. "Now, rule one: everything is bigger than last time. Bigger budget, bigger cast, bigger body count; longer chases, shoot-outs, beheadings- you gotta top what came before to keep people coming back."

"Beheadings?" Chad asked, taking notes.

Next to him, Ethan looked rather lost. Quinn and Anika looked just as confused. You were glad you weren't the only one lacking a real understanding of how the core four operated. They had earned a right to be a little nuts after surviving Woodsboro, that you knew. But the whole thing seemed a bit conspiratorial.

"Rule Two, whatever happened before, expect the opposite. Franchises only survive by subverting expectations; if the killers last time were whiny snowflake film nerds with Letterboxd accounts instead of personalities, you can bet the opposite will be true here." It was hard to absorb these things laid out as facts, and you struggled to follow Mindy's train of thought, sending Anika a wary glance. She just shrugged.

Tara noticed your confusion, sending a small squeeze to your hand and mouthing the word 'later.' You nodded, turning your attention back to Mindy, attempting to do your best to listen.

"And Rule Three, no one is safe. Legacy characters are cannon fodder at this point, usually brought back only to be killed off in some cheap bid for nostalgia. Sidney’s smart to sit this one out, but it’s not looking too good for Gale and Kirby. And that’s not even the worst part."

"There's a worst part?" You asked. Mindy nodded, smirking.

"The worst part is franchises are just continuing episodic instalments designed to boost an IP, which means the main characters are completely expendable now too. Laurie Strode, Nancy Thompson, Ellen Ripley, Jigsaw, Tony Stark, James Bond, even Luke Skywalker all died so their franchises could live on. That means it’s not just the friend group, any of us could go at any time, especially Sam and Tara."

You sent Tara a wary look at the suggestion, leaning harder against her. She tried to send you a small smile to comfort you, but it did little to stop the thought coming to your mind. You were cursed, that much was true from the sheer amount of grief that seemed to permeate around your family. It was a bad idea, to get so close to Tara, and that you knew. But it didn't stop the fact that you had a near electric desire to do so whenever she was nearby.

"Wait, any of us? Am I in the friend group?" Ethan asked, beginning to panic. "Am I one of the targets? Am I gonna die a virgin?"

"Um," Mindy started, blinking. "Weird overshare, but at least that brings us to our current suspects." Her gaze steeled over.

"Ethan. The shy dorky guy who no one suspects, because he’s so shy and dorky." Next to him, Chad shot him a more assessing glance.

"Why am I on the list? Because I’m randomly Chad’s roommate?!" Ethan asked, raising his voice.

"Roommate lotteries can be juked, you could have fixed it to get next to us," Mindy shot back, crossing her arms in increased suspicion. She turned to Quinn. "Quinn. The slutty roommate. A horror movie classic."

"Sex positive," Quinn corrected, "but thank you."

"And how did you come to live with Sam and Tara?" Mindy asked, narrowing her eyes.

"I answered their ad online--" Quinn started, and Mindy scoffed, raising her hand up.

"Say no more, you’ve already implicated yourself enough. 'Ad online,' good lord."

"Mindy, it was an anonymous ad, and you know we vetted her, plus her Dad’s a cop," Tara interjected.

"Tara, Tara, Tara," Mindy said, shaking her head. "Cop Dad? That's a great cover. Don't you get that's how these movies would work? Speaking of, while we're on Tara," she continued, turning to you.

"Hi," you said.

"Hi (Y/n)," she replied, smiling. It dropped to a frown. Tara's grip on your hand tightened. "(Y/n). The enemies-to-lovers, quippy 'annoyance' one of our main characters has incredible sexual tension with."

"Ew," Sam shuddered.

"Ew indeed," Mindy agreed. "Never trust the love interest." She looked over to Anika, who was smiling at her girlfriend. "Ever." Anika's face fell.

"Okay. So we’ve got our rules, and we’ve got our suspects," Sam huffed.

"Wait- what about the rest of you?" Ethan interrupted.

"I mean, I think it’s safe to rule out the four of us who went through this last year in Woodsboro," Mindy shrugged.

"Agreed," Chad nods.

"Um, not agreed. Maybe the trauma of what you went through caused one or more of you to snap," Quinn suggested, playing with the nail polish on her fingers.

"Or the fame you got from the killings made you thirsty for more! Ethan jumped in again. "And, let’s be honest, some of those theories online about Sam are--"

Tara sends him a death glare. "Don'y you fucking dare finish that sentence."

"He’s right, though. Face facts. If we’re all suspects? You’re all suspects," Anika shrugs.

You sent a wary look around at everyone and then another look back down to Tara, wondering which one would hurt her, and just how you'd be able to stop it.

===+++===

That night was the first night in a while nothing was expected of you, but you couldn't find it in yourself to actually relax. Mindy's monologue about how royally bloody fucked everything was now that Ghostface was officially back had set you a bit on edge, and part of you couldn't help but blame yourself.

You had thought the curse would get left behind in Nebraska, when you left, but it seemed maybe you had taken it with you, packed with your belongings. Maybe it was now affecting the person you had wished to protect from any harm. It still felt miraculous, just how Tara had wormed her way from your shit list to deep within your heart. Maybe that was the curse. Someone who could make you so annoyed could also make you feel like your heart was skipping beats.

You coped with the extreme worrying through a cooked meal and TV binge, flopping down on the couch and turning your ringer on, in case you were needed. You knew that Sam and Tara were likely preparing for the worst, and you also knew that you had been included on the list of suspects.

Maybe none of them rightfully believed you had it in you, but you also knew that even being a possibility meant that the core four had to keep you at arm's length for a while.

Or, at least, that's what you figured they'd do.

Right as the episode you were watching began to roll credits, you heard a hard knock on the door, freezing. Mindy had said something in a text, telling you to be cautious of opening doors when no one was scheduled to come over. You shot a wary look to your magnetic strip of knives, hanging over the hotplate. If you were just fast enough, maybe you could grab a knife or two, if Ghostface busted the door in. There was usually a phone call, wasn't there? Then why--

"(Y/n)?" Tara called, giving a hard knock. You felt your cheeks flush. Oh. You dashed to the door, not wanting to leave her on the step for too long.

When you opened it, you could see that Tara's own cheeks were flushed, and her chest was rising and falling rapidly.

"Did you run here???" you asked, raising your eyebrows.

"Uh...maybe," Tara said, suddenly finding the hallway outside of your flat much more interesting.

"I thought Sam would have you under lock and key," you teased.

"I snuck out..." Tara said, cheeks flushing again, but this time not from the run.

"Oh, so I'm harbouring a criminal?" you joked. Tara rolled her eyes, groaning.

"Can I just come in?"

"Do you trust me to do that?" you asked, curious. "I understand if you say no, believe me I get it. If I had been attacked or anything, especially by my girlfriend, I wouldn't trust anyone for a long time..."

Tara watched you ramble speak, eyes wide and dark and beautiful in the dim hall light. "I trust you... and I, uh, want some small amount of normalcy, like it was at the lab. Before everything got so weird, you know?"

You nodded, stepping aside for her to enter and then freezing. "Wait, Tara, what happened to your hand?"

You hadn't noticed until now, but her knuckles on the other hand had been bruising a dusty purple colour, still red at the edges. You let the door shut behind you, turning to her hand and holding it up in the lamplight of your hall. "What happened?" you asked, eyebrows furrowing in worry.

Tara's cheeks flushed again. "I punched a bitch," she said flatly. Your eyes widened even more, and Tara was quick to shake her head. "Just Gale Weathers. She wrote, uh, a whole book on Woodsboro. Called Sam a bunch of bad stuff. She actually was outside the station with the news and stuff when Sam was questioned earlier today... so I punched her."

You snorted. "Judging by your hand you definitely got her."

"Oh absolutely," Tara scoffed, as if she was offended by a possibility that she hadn't.

"You should probably ice it," you said with a wince, looking at the bruised skin. She scoffed again.

"What're you, a doctor?"

You shrugged, leading her into your kitchen. "I was going to be."

"Oh," Tara hummed.

"Yeah... took one introductory class and realised I hated it. It sucks too, because I gave my parents this whole speech about how I wanted to be a doctor because of our family, and I dropped the profession about a month or two later afterwards."

"Is that why you and your dad don't talk much?" she asked. "Is he a doctor?"

"No," you said, shaking your head. It was an amusing suggestion. "About as far as you could get from it, actually. But no, it isn't why we don't really talk." You didn't say any more on the subject, even though you could tell that Tara was curious. "We should really get you iced up, your hand is swollen, I can't believe you didn't show me this earlier."

She rolled her eyes. "You're acting like my parent again."

"I'm just worried about you, Tara," you said, shooting her a meaningful look. She was staring up at you with those damn eyes again like you held her heart in your hands. "I mean, come on, let's just put a bag of ice on it or something, or--"

But before you could finish what you were suggesting, Tara interrupted you, throwing her arms around your neck and standing up on her toes. "Is this okay?" she whispered, voice low. It flooded your ears and squeezed the air from your lungs, just how close her lips were from yours.

You can't help the small nod, or the way you're probably dumbly staring at her mouth right now, but her eyes are warm and inviting, and your hands find their way to her waist, palming at the exposed skin of her cropped shirt with your thumbs. "I've, uh, kind of wanted to do this for weeks," Tara admits with a small grin. The words spin around and around in your mind like you're on some carousel of thought.

If you could have formed words, you would have told her the truth: you had wanted to kiss her since she walked in the room and you saw her for the first time. But you can't. So instead, you crash your lips onto hers.

Tara doesn't hesitate even a little bit, wrapping her arms around your neck and falling off her toes as she kisses you back with fervour. You follow her down, working your lips against hers as her hands give up on your neck and instead move to spread themselves out on the warm apples of your cheeks.

You're taken over by some other, hungry entity entirely, and you lift Tara up onto the kitchen counter, into the exact same place she was sitting when she asked you for help with this stupid scheme. It doesn't matter now, you're too lost in her lips. You feel her tongue push past and into your mouth, and her hands travel up your back to spread out against the back of your shirt and pull you against her.

You can't help the groan that escapes your mouth, and you feel Tara's teasing smile against your lips as she breathes in your smell. Your hands are still on her waist, sliding up so that your thumbs gently brush against the bottom of her bra. She shudders at the sensation, opening her mouth wider, and you can taste the lingering cherry of her chapstick on her lips.

Neither of you is especially sure how long you stay there, but when you finally have to pull away, you're scrambling for air. You lazily let your forehead rest against hers, catching your breath and struggling to stay on your feet. Tara lets her hands wander from your back into your hair, exploring the planes of your body for the first time, and you can't stop the small comment that worms its way from your mouth after.

"Exploring the merchandise?" you ask with a teasing, breathless laugh. Tara shakes her head, finally opening her eyes and looking up at you with that same damn beautiful look.

"You should come stay with me and the others. It's safer that way," she says, becoming worried again. Her hands rest on your cheeks and she kisses you again, softer, but just as meaningful.

You painfully have to shake your head. "I can't, you know that."

"I won't be mad if you leave town," she says. "I won't hold it against you."

You smile. "I'm not leaving. I'm not going anywhere, Tara."

She nods, processing it, before crashing her lips back onto yours and tugging at the bottom of your shirt, but you catch her hands before she can tug it over your head. "No, Tara- Tara wait."

"I want you," she says.

"I know, but we should wait," you say, hands on the side of her thighs. "Wait until it's over. Right now, Ghostface is more important."

"He gets everything, (Y/n). I just want this. I want you. I know we did this whole thing about fake dating, and I know it wasn't real, but I realise that I want it to be. I just want you."

There's a burning in your stomach, burning for her, and you pull her in for another kiss. Only to be stopped by the sound of your door creaking open.

You freeze and so does Tara at the noise. "(Y/n)?" she asks, trembling. "Did you lock your front door?"

===+++===

DUN DUN DUNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNN catch you all next time for a big ole action sequence and a whole bunch of drama

[hereticritic]

I'm not sure how effective this sort of messaging is at actually convincing people to vote. It's true, broadly speaking—the Democrats are largely uninterested in appealing to abstaining or third-party voters, and the left is considered an inconsistent group not worth appealing to. This is, generally, why they bend over backwards to appeal to moderates and even conservatives before trying to appeal to the left.

I think this is a phenomenally stupid political strategy, but that doesn't really change that this is the reality we live in. The Democrats are not a competent opposition party, and no small part of it is by design. You can see that in the Israel issue; continually funding the genocide in Gaza is not a politically popular position, as revealed by poll after poll, but they'd sooner stand their ground than cave to public opinion and take the stance more readily supported by their voter base, even if adopting those policies would be helpful in key battleground states. (This was always going to be the case; the Democrats will not budge on the interests of US foreign policy.)

But I think this sort of messaging has the opposite effect. A voter boycott, misguided as it is with its intentions, at least reflects the idea that the Democrats care about leftist votes. By making it abundantly clear to them that the Democrats have no intention to listen to them, it just encourages them to disengage entirely from the electoral system. I see people in the replies and reblogs of this post making grandiose statements about convincing the Democrats that leftist opinions matter from within as if this is a novel concept, and not something the left has tried and failed with before.

Hell, if anything, we're coming down from the tailwind of one of the most successful leftist electoral campaigns in recent memory, with Bernie Sanders' presidential campaigns making it abundantly clear that there's a loud contingent of people (especially typically undecided voters) who would vote for candidates that offer progressive policies—including in battleground states like Iowa, which Sanders won in the 2020 Primary. The end result of this leftist participation in the electoral process has seen...seemingly no real material gains, at least in the eyes of left voters. Yes, I'm aware of the progressive platforms Harris is running on, but if your first instinct is to try to claim that Harris is a standout progressive candidate, you're failing to read the room. It's simply not enough to drum up enthusiasm, especially in the wake of a Democratic redshift on immigration policy and fervent support of an abhorrent genocide. If Harris is trying to extend an olive branch to the left, she's failing miserably at it—and I don't think she is.

To be clear, I'm not telling people not to vote. I'm just assessing the messaging strategies at play here, and I'm not seeing anything that I think is actually effective at convincing anyone who doesn't already agree with you. Framing voting as a way to "turn Biden Harris left" isn't nearly as successful after the last four years proved in the eyes of many that was impossible. Framing voting as a civil responsibility clearly isn't working, either. Shaming the left or blaming them for Republican victories has the opposite effect.

The best you can do, it seems, is to do what the OP here is doing—lay bare the callous mechanisms of electorialism, and make it abundantly clear that the system does not care to try to win your vote, and to instead use that vote as an incredibly limited method of harm reduction. It's true, but it strips away one of the predominant fantasies that kept people coming to the polls in the first place: the idea that the Democrats believed their vote mattered.

So there's something I want to say re: intentionally withholding your vote, and I want to do it without coming across as condescending or dismissive.

I've worked as a field organizer in two campaigns, 2010 and 2012, and my job was to help turnout the vote for Democratic candidates up and down the ticket. Technology may have changed, but people are still knocking on doors for specific voters the way they were 12 years ago.

If you say you're not voting/voting 3rd party, the campaign volunteer is supposed to mark that and move on. Their job, in the final month of the election, is to make sure the campaign's supporters have all the information and resources they need to cast a vote.

They aren't collecting data on why you're withholding your vote. They aren't submitting opinion polling results to the campaign. Something like 155 million people voted in the 2020 election, and if you say you're not voting, the campaign is not going to waste a volunteer's time and morale begging you to vote when there are literally millions of other voters to turn out.

Let me repeat that: The campaign does not track why you're not voting. They simply note your vote is not a priority for turnout and move on.

I say this because I see a lot of promotion of non-voting like that's a boycott, when the function is not the same. A boycott is a coordinated mass refusal to engage with an institution—which sounds similar if you see a vote as a good or service to withhold. Unfortunately, it's not.

A vote is a choice you're making as part of a community hiring committee. Your abstention doesn't prevent someone from being hired. It just lowers the threshold for the worst candidate to succeed.

All this to say: In my direct experience as an organizer, abstaining from the vote sends a message. That message is not "You need to try harder to win my vote." It's "Don't waste time on me."

[alchemistc]

Eddie tips his beer against his lips, fights the smile turning up the corners of his mouth as Mara and Jee each cling to one of Buck's arms, the both of them screaming to their hearts content. It's - loud, and Buck isn't doing anything to temper the noise, growling out one of his Roledex of monster noises, lifting one arm and then the other like some bastardized workout routine.

Beside him, Tommy sighs.

It's a familiar sound, at this point. Tommy is so fucking full of love, and Eddie knows he's spent a long ass time looking for a place to put it. He can't think of a person better prepared to take the bulk of it on than Evan Buckley.

"I cannot handle your lovelorn sighs, dude. You got the guy, you don't need to act like some regency hero watching from the sidelines."

Tommy eyes the neck of Eddie's bottle like he's thinking about punishing Eddie for the comment with a beer tap, so Eddie shifts it out of his reach - he's in no mood for another lesson on the physics of cavitation from Buck while he's cleaning foam off the patio and trying to prevent Jee from lapping it up like a dog.

Denny's too old for most of the horseplay, now, but there's something about Buck that makes kids unafraid to act like kids - he takes a flying leap and gets an arm around Buck's neck, and now he's somehow hauling three of them around with one of those wide, uncareful smiles Eddie's always been a bit jealous of.

Tommy's chest expands, and Eddie can feel his lips pursing, his eyes rolling to the side in warning. Tommy blows the breath out through his nose and scowls.

"I knew Shannon was it for me after our first date," Eddie says into the silence, shocking himself with the ease her name slides past his lips. He hasn't - he doesn't - Christ, even thinking her name sets him back sometimes. But this feels - it feels like the only memory pertinent to the situation.

Tommy's pretty good at keeping a straight face when he's feeling big things - decades of practice, Eddie knows, and he's aware that Tommy has spent another ten years unpacking that, forcing himself to wear his heart on his sleeve. Still. It seems easiest when it's Buck, and Eddie can't fault him that.

"She was such an asshole," Eddie continues, fond, while Tommy's gaze shifts to him, careful, concentrated, that special blend of steady eye contact and a stilling of his body that lets people know he's really listening, retaining, will be able to recite word for word something personal someone told him about themselves. "Even then, even as young as we were, I just wanted to share everything with her. Jokes, and stories about my day - happiness and sadness and... life, you know?"

Tommy swallows. His gaze shifts in the quiet of Eddie's confession, unerringly returning to Buck. Eddie's watched plenty of women in love with Buck looking at him. It's never been that look.

The one Eddie'd clocked months ago, a subtle shift from smitten to in love to something else. Something more.

In the grass, Buck levers himself to his knees and begs for mercy, and nearly takes a knee to the groin for his surrender.

Tommy's chest expands.

"You measured his ring size while he's passed out coming off an extra shift, yet?" (Buck has. Eddie's been fielding a fucking deluge of links in his messages, at least a hundred different rings at this point that look identical to Eddie but Buck apparently has half a million opinions about that he seems to think Eddie can help him with.)

Tommy doesn't give him time to react, this time. The bottom of his bottle hits the top of Eddie's and Eddie scrambles too late, foam spilling along the sides, over his fingers. The patio rug soaks up the liquid as it spills over his fingers, but Tommy seems to think the hassle of cleaning off his brand new patio is worth it, if the smirk on his face is anything to go by.

"I'm going to go rescue my boyfriend before Jee-Yun decides hearing Evan howl in real pain is her new favorite hobby."

Eddie's beer is still foaming, a steady trickle up the neck and down the side, right over his fingers, dripping to the rug beneath his feet. He'll need to go inside and wash his hands soon, maybe rearrange Tommy's tea drawer while he's in there - it's the only thing safe from Buck's wrath in that kitchen. "Get me another beer while you're up," Eddie snarks back, and leans back to watch the way Buck's eyes gleam when, instead of rescuing Buck, Jee and Mara both take aim at Tommy instead, and Tommy's swings them both up into the air while they screech in delight.

[batmanisagatewaydrug]

Apologies if this is a bit morbid, but my partner died a year ago and I've been left with their vast collection of sex toys. I've cleaned them all with a spray cleaner intended for toys, but I don't know if that makes them safe to continue using? Some of them are things we bought and used together, but many of them predate our relationship, so idk much about their history or the kind of material they're made of. I can tell some are pretty expensive tho and it seems wasteful to throw them out...

Sorry if this is a weird ask, but it's hard for me to talk about my partner IRL, so I haven't been able to get any perspective from friends and I'm worried they'd judge me either or keeping the toys OR for getting rid of them.

So any advice on potentially using another person's toys? Should I always dispose of toys if I don't know exactly where they've been? Is there a higher level of cleaning I should do beyond spray cleaner, soap and hot water? Any help is appreciated 💛

hi anon,

no need to apologize! this is a great question, and not one that I imagine is covered in most advice about grieving. I'm sorry for your loss, and I'm glad to be a resource figuring out an answer to this question.

so first off, re: cleaning, I'd check Dangerous Lilly's toy cleaning guide to make sure everything has been cleaned as thoroughly as possible based on what material it's made of. if you aren't sure what kind of material a toy is made of, that's a great sign right out of the gate that it's time for that toy to go - if you can't identify it, you can't make sure it's clean, and you can't even be sure it's body safe at all.

broadly speaking, I don't have any objections to keeping and using sex toys that you don't know the full history of, as long as you can verify that they're made of something non-porous that can be thoroughly cleaned. some people might balk at the idea of using a toy whose sexual history predates your relationship, but I'm a pragmatist and I think if you can handle having sex with a human person whose genitals have had sex with other people then a sex toy functionally isn't that much different. again, as long as we can clean it thoroughly!

overall, just from a health and safety standpoint, I'd say anything that we can confidently identify and clean is good to stay, if you want to keep and use them, while mystery toys or toys made of porous materials need to hit the bins. whether or not you continue to use these toys or turn them into a treasured collection is up to you! a lovingly preserved sex toy museum is as sweet a memorial as any.

[luxaofhesperides]

puddle

Your writing is amazing btw

Danny is usually fine with the cold. He's got an ice core, he's practically made for the cold. But Gotham autumn cold is another monster, especially when it comes with so much rain.

The city is constantly damp and dreary, switching between sprinkling on and off to a heavy deluge of rain.

Listen, he can handle the cold but not the cold and wet. That's just asking for too much.

He says as much to Duke over the phone, peering out from under the awning of the theater he's trapped at, hoping the rain will let up soon. It hadn't been raining when he left the apartment earlier to watch a movie, killing time until Jazz got back from her internship with Gotham's social services, so Danny had been caught totally unprepared when he stepped outside and got hit with a spray of rain as a bus drove past.

Duke laughs at him, his voice carrying a little static over the phone, and Danny pouts. No point in hiding it when no one's around to see it.

"How have you not learned to always carry an umbrella with you by now?" Duke asks, amusement coloring his voice. "Hasn't it already been a year since you moved here?"

Danny pouts and stares out into the heavy sheets of rain coming down just a few feet in front of him. "I was running late to the showing so I didn't check the weather! And it was almost nice out earlier so I thought it would be fine."

"Alright, new question: how have you not learned to stop trusting Gotham's weather? If it's good, then it'll get worse. If it's bad, it'll stay bad. That's how it is."

"This city is out to get me," Danny complains. "If I get sick because of this rain, just leave me to die."

"You're so dramatic," Duke says fondly.

"You would be too, if you were stuck out here." He takes a step to stand just beneath the edge of the awning and peers up at the sky. Heavy gray clouds hang above the city, hiding the sky from horizon to horizon. The wind isn't strong today, which means the clouds are barely moving. No doubt the lower streets have already begun to flood, water rising as storm drains struggle to keep up with the heavy rain. He sighs and reaches back to draw his hood up to cover his head. "I think I'm just gonna have to make a run for it."

Noise erupts from Duke's end of the call; rustling, doors slamming, metal moving. "Wait, stay where you are! You're at Harbor Theater, right?"

"Yeah."

"Give me like ten minutes. Don't move!" And then the call ends without another word, leaving Danny to blink out at the rain, confused. He pulls his phone away from his ear, stares down at the screen where "Call ended" stares back up at him, and shrugs.

Sure. Okay. This might as well happen.

He retreats back to the door, more protected from the rain, and leans against the brick wall of the building to wait. It's only ten minutes, and he's not in a rush to do anything else today, so he can wait. As long as he stays mostly dry, he'll be fine.

Despite his many complaints about the rain, Danny does enjoy Gotham storms. They're quiet and steady, with only the really big storms carrying thunder into the city. The storms in Amity Park were always loud, with howling winds and earthshaking thunder, lightning flashing nonstop until it was over. Compared to that, Gotham rain is peaceful; the steady patter of raindrops against windows is soothing and has made him fall asleep more than once. As long as he's safe and warm inside, he likes the rain.

As it is, when he's outside and stuck hiding beneath an awning, he very much does not like the rain.

The street is mostly empty as everyone with common sense is inside where it's dry. A few cars pass by, driving fast despite how hard it must be to see, and send water splashing towards him. He's just outside the splash zone, thankfully, but that doesn't stop him from glaring and muttering curses to those drivers.

Danny sighs again and closes his eyes, hoping to make the time pass by faster if he makes his mind drift.

It doesn't feel like it's been ten minutes when he hears Duke call his name. It barely even feels like five. Danny opens his eyes and pushes off the wall, looking down the street where he can see a bright yellow umbrella moving up and down as Duke runs through the rain to meet him. Did he really run all this way, just to get Danny an umbrella? That's really sweet. Danny bites the inside of his cheek to keep from grinning too much like some kind of lovesick fool.

Which he is, to be fair, but he doesn't need to show that.

"Dude," he says when Duke reaches him, stumbling to a stop under the awning to catch his breath. "Did you seriously run from your place to here? Don't you live on the other side of Gotham?"

Duke shakes his head and takes a moment to catch his breath. "I was nearby," he says, gesturing vaguely behind him, "Don't worry about it. You heading back home?"

"That was the plan, yeah."

"I'll walk you then. C'mon."

Duke offers his elbow as though escorting Danny to the ball. Danny takes it, stepping beneath the umbrella, so cheerfully yellow it almost feels aggressive. "My hero," he teases. "My knight under yellow umbrella."

"Listen, it was the only one I had that wasn't broken and it was a joke gift from a friend."

"A joke gift?"

"It's a Signal umbrella. Look at the handle."

Danny looks. The curve of the handle ends in a bat symbol. "That's amazing," he says, biting back a laugh as they step out into the rain. The umbrella protects them, but he can see that both their shoulders are getting wet; it's hard to fit two bodies beneath one umbrella. He pulls at Duke's arm, tugging him closer, so they can both fit more securely under the umbrella, walking arm in arm down the street.

It would have been nearly perfect if it wasn't for the fact that the streets were full of rainwater and a step into a puddle too big to avoid leaves his shoes and socks wet.

"Aw, man," he groans, frowning at his shoes. "I just can't win today."

"You used up all your good luck calling me," Duke jokes.

"Worth it, if it gets me you," Danny says without thinking. Then he squeezes his eyes shut and regrets because flirting with Duke has become a habit when they became friends, and it's a dangerous habit know that Danny's figured out his massive crush on Duke.

"Sweet talker," Duke retaliates. He's unfazed, carrying on normally, so Danny relaxes. As long as he can keep his crush quiet alongside his many other secrets, he's fine.

Leaning into him a little more, Danny ducks his head to hide a smile as they keep walking. Under one umbrella, together under the sheets of rain, it feels like there's no one else in the world but them.

Maybe there is something to enjoy about rainy autumn days.

Even if it ends with him walking home in waterlogged socks.

[daisymbin]

[21:22] - jeon wonwoo

check out my masterlist!

"i" kiss "love" kiss "you" kiss

"regardless of anything, now, stop overthinking and let me cuddle you to sleep," wonwoo halfwhined as he dragged you by your hand towards your shared bedroom. "are you sure you'd still love me if I was a worm?"

wonwoo thinks to himself: does she know she blabbers about things that make absolute no sense & about things that will never happen when she's sleep deprived? but still, he answers you, "yes, im sure, sweetheart. I'll even beg jeonghan to let you live with his....stone." he said in amusement. "ah! doljjongie!!! yes!! we would have so much fun!"

"yes, doljjongie. now will you please lay in bed with me? you really need sleep, my love." wonwoo wonders how you're still buzzing with energy after 48 hours without sleep, but you're kind of loopy that he actually enjoys this side of you anyways. he watch as you hop into bed, right beside him, deciding to take advantage of your loopingess, he adds "what about you? would you still love me if I was a worm?"

the room is dark & quiet, wonwoo almost thinks you've fallen asleep, but he knows better. he could practically hear the gears in your head turning before you answer, "I don't know im scared of bugs...worms included. so maybe not, but if I'm a worm I'd want you to love me." wonwoo chuckles at this, what a cute double standard you have. he should be offended but he knows all of this is hypothetical & he's always loved how brutally honest you are, even if you like being told lame white lies like this once in awhile.

"that's not so fair to me isn't it?" he asks. "okay fine, I'll love you. but only if I become a worm as well." wonwoo smiles quietly to himself before pressing a kiss to your forehead. "sleep, baby, we'll stay in tomorrow and we can watch all the worm documentaries in the world that you want."

the room goes quiet for awhile before you speak again, "goodnight wonwoo." a quick kiss on his cheek before you settle more comfortably in his arms and he feels his heart flutter again, "goodnight baby."

[columbidaehypoxia]

Learning more and more there is no "together". Life is a beautiful and horribly stressful collection of moving parts and shifting things and all you really can do is try and make the best day you can.

Sometimes if I look at everything in my life, my partner's life, the world, and I feel like I'm drowning. Now I'm not the only one. And i know that if I stay there, looking down at everything that is,could've been, wants that never manifested and needs that were never met, I could get lost in it all forever.

But at some point, you know there are things you can't change and things you can't do or didn't, but you can't go back. You have today and these moments, and I've really begun to learn to live, or enjoy, the moment, the present. You can't change how much you hurt and wasted 7 yrs of your life being hurt, but you can pause and choose a little bit of peace for today.

And I mean this for goals too, you can achieve almost anything if it's genuine. If you wanted to paint and never learned how, do it now. Make your paint from mud if you don't have the money to buy paint, but make yourself a fucking masterpiece. Write music and do whatever you want with it. Make creepy short films on your phone that you may or may not ever publish. Enjoy the doing and the feeling of choosing you, of choosing the action of love, because you cannot love something if you regret it, and I don't think ppl should carry this regret around. Take a moment to be proud of even the 'small' accomplishments.

There is always hope, every and any day, and we all are doing the same thing, trying to find out how not to carry the weight of regrets with us wherever we go. (Except maybe that 1 person who definitely has it figured out, we don't know what to say about them. They probably don't have laundry to do when they get home either. This is irrelevant. )

Anyways no one asked for this sorry to rant on ur post I'll stop talking sending love

everyone from childhood seems to have carved out a life for themselves. i still feel 15 and completely hopeless

[willowsnook]

Fake Love Triangle (LN & FC) 18+

lando norris x reader, franco colapinto x reader

for my friend @a-beaverhausen

"Come on, baby, give me one more," Lando cooed at you as he drilled into you from behind. Your face was smashed into the pillow, your body slumping as your third orgasm came over you. He chased his own

high, spilling into you before pulling out to lay next to you.

"I needed that," he sighed, pulling you into his side. You rested your head on his chest, agreeing.

"Me too. This stuff with Logan is stressing me out."

You were in your third year as a strategist with Williams, and this season had been rough—though so had last year and the year before that. You and Lando had been hooking up for the past season, using each other as a stress reliever, which worked for both of you. He wasn’t interested in a relationship, wanting to keep his focus on the championship. He was amazing in bed and a good friend, but you just weren’t interested in him romantically and never really had been. There was an understanding that your private activities didn’t mean anything, and either of you could end it whenever needed.

"I’ve heard you guys are replacing him," Lando mentioned, combing his fingers through your hair.

"Yeah, it’s being announced in the next couple of days. We’re bringing in a younger driver from our academy."

"Hmm, that'll be interesting."

You lifted your head to give him a look. He knew what this would mean for you and looked at you with sympathy. Looking over at your phone, you groaned at the time and moved off the bed, putting your clothes back on.

"I need to actually get a good night’s sleep before tomorrow, and your snoring prevents that, so I’ll see you around," you teased, grabbing your things. Lando pouted, but you paid him no mind.

"Good luck, and text me if you need me," he said playfully, and you shot him the finger before leaving his apartment.

----------------------------------------------------

Landing in the UK the next morning, you were exhausted, still not getting good sleep even without Lando's snores. There was an all-team meeting at 10, followed by a strategy session. You were a zombie during the meeting, barely paying attention as they announced Franco as the new driver.

Walking toward the conference room, the new driver fell into step next to you.

"Hola, hermosa," he said, smirking at you. "I'm Franco."

"I know who you are," you replied, laughing as you took in the Argentinian man.

"Just wanted to make sure. You didn’t seem like you were paying much attention back there," he teased, and you rolled your eyes.

"How would you even have noticed? There were so many people in there."

"I always notice the most beautiful woman in a room," he flirted, and your cheeks tinted pink.

"Are you really flirting with me right now?" you questioned.

"Only if you like it," he said with a wink, holding the door open for you.

This was going to be an interesting working relationship.

------------------------------------------

You quickly grew accustomed to Franco's flirting, which became part of your working routine, though you didn’t pay it much attention, considering he was like that with everyone.

Standing with his PR manager, who looked like she was about to pull her hair out, Franco strolled out of the interview room, his eyes lighting up as he saw you.

"Can you stop flirting with the reporters for five minutes, please?" she complained, and he shrugged innocently. She turned to you, "I don’t know how you put up with it."

"He does it with everyone, so I don’t think much of it," you said, and Franco frowned.

"Yeah, but it’s different with you, cariño," he said with a pout, and you gave him a quizzical look.

"How so?"

"Because I actually mean it with you," he said, and his PR manager pushed him away.

"No relationships with staff! Get away!" she shouted, and he winked at you before retreating to his driver’s room. You looked at her amused, contemplating his words. You had been finding yourself giddy around him and missed him quite a bit during the long break before Austin.

The two of you texted regularly, and you had grown to really like him, which Lando teased you relentlessly for.

Speaking of Lando, you were standing in the hotel lobby in Brazil when you felt two arms circling your waist.

"I need your mouth badly," he whispered in your ear, and you leaned back into him.

"I only have 10 minutes before I need to meet the team for dinner," you replied, and he pulled you toward the elevator.

"I can work with that," he replied, smiling as you rolled your eyes. "I have to take advantage of this before you finally give in to Franco."

"It’s not like that," you mumbled, waiting for the doors to open.

"Yeah, yeah. In the three years I've known you, I haven’t seen you smitten with someone like this before," he teased.

"So, what should I do? Go from master to his protégé?" you joked, and Lando giggled, pulling you into his room. His lips met yours in a soft kiss.

"I don’t think there’s anyone else I’d be happier about breaking us up than him," he confessed. "Now, knees, baby, please."

Grabbing a pillow from his bed, you knelt down, pulling out his already hard cock, the tip glistening angrily.

"What’s got you so worked up?" you asked sultrily, running the tip of your tongue around the head.

Lando took a sharp breath before replying, "I just need to settle my mind down before tomorrow."

Hollowing your cheeks, you took him entirely into your mouth, running your tongue around him lazily. His hand grabbed a fistful of your hair as he pushed you to take him all in. Whimpering as he hit the back of your throat, the vibrations caused him to gasp.

Looking up at him with watery eyes, he seemed to get even harder as he stared down at you.

"Fuck, you look so pretty like this," he rasped, and you pulled off, kissing down the side of him. Your hand took over for your mouth as you moved to kiss his balls, sucking gently.

"Let me take over, please," he begged, and you smirked before nodding. His cock found its way back into your mouth, and his grip tightened, starting to face-fuck you. Tears now leaked from your eyes as you gagged against him. His pace became sloppy, and it wasn’t long before you tasted him finishing in your mouth. You pulled off, swirling your tongue around the tip one last time, causing him to wince.

"Little minx," he muttered, and you smirked, getting up. You fixed your hair in the bathroom and bid Lando goodbye, wishing him luck for tomorrow.

Arriving at the team dinner, you slid into a booth next to Franco, who stiffened. You gave him a curious look, but he wouldn’t meet your gaze; that continued for the entire night. No flirty comments, nothing—just silence, and you were beyond confused.

Finally fed up with it once you both made it back to the hotel, you turned to him.

"Is something wrong?" you questioned, and he looked at you nervously, as if struggling with what to say.

"I just think we should keep our relationship strictly professional," he said firmly, and you were floored.

"You’re the one that flirts with me," you exclaimed, and he sighed, looking around as if for an escape. "What’s wrong with you?"

"Look, I really look up to Lando and respect him as a driver and a friend," he started, and you began to realize what was going on. "He’s a lucky guy."

"Franco—," you started, but he bolted, slipping into the elevator just as the doors closed. Unbelievable. Lando’s words had convinced you to give this a chance, but instead, he ended up being a cock-block.

-------------------------------------------

Lando was amused the next day during the drivers' parade, watching Franco fidget nervously beside him. Deciding to put the boy out of his misery, he turned to him.

"Can I talk to you about something?" Lando asked, and Franco’s eyes widened as he started to babble.

"I’m so sorry, mate, I didn’t know she was your girl, or I never would have talked to her like that. Just a silly crush, I promise—I’ve never touched her," he rambled, stopping when he noticed Lando giggling, clearly amused.

"She’s not my girlfriend," Lando told the poor rookie. "She’s one of my best friends, and yes, we occasionally 'help each other out,' but it’s nothing more than that."

"Oh," Franco said, relieved. He smiled at Lando nervously. "So, she doesn’t like you like that?"

Lando shook his head, grinning, "Nah, she’s into someone else. Someone new to the grid."

Franco blushed, understanding Lando's words, and smiled to himself.

That was the last time he smiled that morning, as he crashed into the barrier in the early laps of the GP.

With two drivers out, you took off your headphones, sighing as you moved back into the garage to wait for the car’s return. Franco made it back first, and your heart broke as his tear-filled eyes met yours and he hesitated nearby. After last night’s conversation, you weren’t sure what to do, but when his eyes stayed on yours, you took the risk and wrapped your arms around him.

He buried his head into your shoulder, and you rubbed his back as he cried gently. His red-rimmed eyes met yours as he stepped back, and you felt your own eyes watering.

"Can I see you later?" he asked softly, and you nodded, promising to text him your room number.

--------------------------------------------

You had just put on your pajamas after taking a long, hot shower when you heard a knock at your door. Franco stood on the other side, dressed in a casual T-shirt and sweats.

"Hey," you greeted him softly, opening the door wider for him to come in. He stepped in and grabbed you, but instead of a hug, you felt his lips on yours as he softly gripped your jaw, holding you in place.

It was a lazy kiss but exploratory, as though he were trying to learn every part of your mouth. Breathing hard, you rested your forehead against his as he smiled gently at you.

"Can you stop fucking Lando now?" he asked, and you giggled, pulling him into another kiss.

Moving to the bed, you slid under the covers, pulling them back for Franco to join you. He pulled off his shirt first, and you shamelessly checked him out, much to his amusement.

"Like what you see, hermosa?" he teased, and you met his gaze, smirking.

"As long as it’s only for me," you said, letting a little bit of vulnerability show. He smiled at you, climbing into bed.

"Only for you."

Snuggled into Franco’s side, you watched TV together.

"Feeling better after today?" you asked softly.

"Yeah," he murmured, "Just a little scary. Not as scary as Lando asking to talk to me though."

"How'd you even know about me and him?" You asked curiously, no one knew how far your friendship went.

"I saw you last night before dinner," he admitted. "My heart shattered into a million pieces."

"You are so dramatic," you laughed. Your hand was resting on his abs, gently tracing the skin there as you talked.

"We're going to have an issue if you keep doing that, mi amor," Franco said breathlessly, and you smirked, trailing your fingers closer to his waistband.

"Y/n," he breathed out as your hand dipped underneath his pants. You palmed him over his boxers and he whimpered before pulling you on his lap. Meeting his lips in a deep kiss you ground into him, both groaning out into each other. He threw his head back against the pillow and you took the opportunity to latch your mouth to his neck, sucking harshly.

Franco pushed his boxers down and you shimmied out of your shorts before sliding back and forth on his length. Moving his hands to your hips he stopped you and lifted you up a little, allowing you to sink back down on him.

You gasped as he stretched you out, throwing your head back. Franco was in heaven staring up at you and was doing everything in his power to not make this end early. You had started to move but his fingers dug into your hips.

"Just give me a second, okay?" He rasped and you smirked down at him before fighting his grip to grind onto him. You shrieked as he flipped you over, never leaving the inside of you.

"Think you're funny, huh," he said as he moved more quickly. Groaning out, you wrapped your legs around his waist as he rammed into you over and over.

His head dropped to your shoulder, and he bit into your skin, causing you to cry out and dig your nails harder into his back. One of his hands came up to your breast and his thumb rolled over your nipple and you felt yourself starting to get overstimulated, a tell tale sign that you were close.

"Don't stop Franco," you gasped out, and he brought his lips back to yours, swallowing your cries as your orgasm took over. He followed soon after, collapsing next to you as you both came down from your highs.

Finally catching your breath you felt his arms scoop you up, carrying you into the bathroom.

"What are you doing?" You asked dazed and he smiled down at you.

"Have to take care of my girl," he said and you sighed against him.

It was later when you were snuggled up against Franco, watching a movie when your phone went off. You rolled your eyes smiling as you saw the text.

LN: so no more head??? ;)

[heavyhitterheaux]

Steady Love (Slight NSFW)

Synopsis: After Joe learns of a secret that you've been keeping from him, he has a big decision to make on whether the relationship is worth saving and if he can accept it

Pairing: Joe Burrow x Reader

Do not engage if underage

Please Do Not Repost My Content Anywhere

Joe was deep in thought as he was on a popular restaurant's website looking at their menu to see everything that they offered. He knew that you, his girlfriend, was extremely picky and had a shit ton of allergies and had to make sure they had options that you could pick from.

He was convinced that your diet consisted of chicken nuggets and iced coffee and got on you all the time about it. His goal was to take you there for date night seeing as you had both been busy all week and now you were going to spend the weekend with him before going to his game on Sunday.

The restaurant had amazing reviews and the person who had told him about it and also made the reservation for it was Ja'Marr who was also on the phone, as Joe had put it on speaker so that he was able to talk to him and look at the website at the same time.

“I think Y/N is hiding something from me.” He blurted out as it had been on his mind for the last few days and he thought that he was going to explode if he didn't say anything to someone soon. He figured that telling one of his best friends was a good choice.

“Wait, what? That was random. Why do you say that? Your girl literally worships the ground you walk on and you do the same thing with her.”

“Something just seems off. I find her sometimes going to a different room to answer her phone, which she protects with her damn life by the way.”

“Don't we all? That doesn't mean anything.”

“No, not like she does. And do you know that I've never stayed at her place before?”

“Huh? The two of you have been together for what seems like forever.” Ja'Marr asked as he was moving around his kitchen and trying to find something to snack on.

“A few months but it's weird. Whenever I propose the idea, she immediately shuts it down. Claiming that my house is closer to her job, which is true but I don't know.”

“I think you’re paranoid and probably thinking too much into this. Y/N is amazing and she can do no wrong in my eyes.”

“Because you love whenever she cooks and tells me to invite you over too, but what if I'm right?”

“Hey! That just happens to be a plus but if you're right then confront her about it and the two of you act like adults and go from there. Just keep in mind she's making me salted caramel cookies next week. Don't mess up my supply.”

“Your supply? You act like we're talking about drugs when we are literally talking about cookies. And she just seemed so stressed out this week so the last thing I want to do is send her over the edge.”

“When it comes to her cooking, it might as well be crack! It's addicting! Look, if it comes up then you two talk about it and if it doesn't just wait for the right time. I'm sure that there's a good explanation to all of this.”

“I'm ignoring the part about the crack.”

“But you didn't ignore it because you just mentioned it.”

“Talking to you should not stress me out as much as it does.” Joe replied as he rolled his eyes and ran a hand through his hair.

“Keep in mind, YOU called me and I made the reservation for you so be nice!”

“Mm hmm.”

“Look, just let me know how it goes once you talk to her.”

Later on that evening, the two of you were now sitting across from one another in a secluded corner of the restaurant sharing the dessert that you had picked out. Joe wasn't one to eat a lot of sweets during the season, however for you he'll always make an exception.

You held your fork up to Joe's mouth and was encouraging him to take a bite but he was looking at you suspiciously before looking at the dessert and then looking back at you.

“Joey! Open!”

“Um.. what is this again?”

“It's a pistachio cheesecake. It's good, come on taste it.”

“It looks weird. And wait! Aren't you allergic to pistachios?”

“No, I got an allergy test done recently and apparently I'm not allergic anymore.”

“How reliable is that? The last thing I need is your throat closing. Do you have benadryl just in case? I'm about to call 911 so that they can be on standby.”

“I planned for my throat to close around something else tonight, but yes.” You told Joe as you winked at him.

Being caught off guard by your comment, his eyes went wide but he quickly recovered as he sent a smirk in your direction.

“Oh, is that so?”

“Mm hmm, I haven't seen you all week so I'm excited to spend the entire weekend with you which also includes plenty of activities that do not require clothes. This week was a lot and I really needed to be around you so this was absolutely perfect. Did you pick the place or did Ja'Marr?”

“We'll definitely get to that later. I know this week was a lot for you and there were a lot of things happening so I'm happy you're spending the entire weekend with me. And yes, it was Ja'Marr’s idea. I had never been here before and he recommended it.”

“Doesn't surprise me since you're such a homebody. I'm going to have to make him more cookies for that one.”

“All of my snacks and streaming services are at home. What do I need to leave for? And no, absolutely not. He's starting to stalk me just for your cookies. Any time he calls me now it's about you and your cooking. First thing out of his mouth is if you were at my house and if you cooked anything and if he can come over.” Joe told you as he laughed with you joining in with him.

“Okay, now open.”

“This better not be nasty.”

“Joey! Stop acting like you're five and open!” He did as he was told and slowly started to chew with his head nodding in approval.

“It's not bad, but I know something that tastes even better and I've been craving it all week actually.”

“What? You said you had never been here before.”

“I was talking about my girlfriend sitting on my face.”

��

“Get over here and stop running from me.” Joe told you as he pulled you back onto his California king bed since you were literally about a few centimeters from hitting the floor.

“I am nowhere done with you. Keep in mind you talked all that shit in the car on the way back and now look, a whimpering dripping mess underneath of me. So wet for me.” He whispered in your ear as he once again inserted two of his fingers into you, pumping them at an even and slow pace knowing that it would get you that much closer.

His fingers slipped out and he held them up to your mouth as you opened and sucked on them.

“See how good you taste?” Joe asked as he leaned down to place several kisses on your lips and slipped inside you at the same time making you gasp and quickly wrap your arms around his neck.

“Look at my pretty girl, she's taking me so well.”

He placed his hand around your neck and slightly squeezed, but not too tight as he increased his pace moving in and out of you.

Your moans were the only thing that you could get to come out of your mouth because of how much pleasure that you were in and knew that you being sore later was inevitable.

“Taking me so well that she can't even utter a single word, huh? This dick got you speechless?” Joe laughed, but was caught off guard when you suddenly flipped him onto his back and began to ride him.

“Damn, wasn't expecting that.”

“Not quite speechless, but you're about to be once I finish riding you.” You explained to him as you smirked with him taking hold of your hips in order to help guide you.

“Come on then, princess. Let's get to it.”

It was now three in the morning and you were wrapped into Joe's tight embrace when your phone began to vibrate violently on the nightstand.

Quickly picking it up to look at it, you were startled go see that it was Jayson, your daughters father and slowly moved from Joe in order to hopefully not wake him up and went into the master bathroom and closed the door behind you to answer it.

“Jayson, what's going on?”

“It's Nalanie. She won't stop crying and she's simply asking for you. She kept asking me to call you and wouldn't take no for an answer.”

“Just hand her the phone.”

“Hello?”

“Mom! I…” She started to say, but couldn't continue her sentence without crying.

“I'm coming, okay? Be there soon.” You comforted her and quickly hung up as you made your way back into the bedroom to still see Joe resting peacefully.

You quickly started moving around with the use of the flashlight on your phone to be able to see and this made Joe wake up and he quickly sat up to reach over to turn on the bedside lamp.

“Uh? Baby? What are you doing?”

“Looking for my clothes, I need to leave.” You told him as you had discovered your outfit that you had worn earlier all the way by the bedroom door suddenly remembering that Joe wasted no time in taking it off of you.

“Why? What's wrong? Did something happen?” He asked while you were hurrying to get dressed and you ignored his question. Not on purpose, but because you had no idea what you were about to walk into once you left there and went and got Nalanie.

Seeing how frantic you were, Joe pulled you over to him since he was sitting on the bed still to try and calm you down.

“Joey, I...”

“You need to breathe for a second and then tell me what's going on with you. You have me worried. What can I do to help you?”

“Just…. let me go please. I want to tell you but…”

“But what? You tell me everything. Or at least I thought you told me everything.” He replied as he took your smaller hand in his large one.

You hesitated before you answered him and it was clear by the look on your face that you didn't want to. The man in front of you had always been honest with you since the two of you had gotten together and it was necessary for you to do the same thing in return. He never deserved to be lied to despite your reasoning for it.

In your mind, you didn't necessarily lie to him, but you definitely didn't tell him the truth either.

“I just got off the phone with my daughter. She was crying and scared and I could barely make out what she was saying. I need to go get her from her father's house. I promise to explain more after I know that she's okay.”

“Wait, what? You’re joking right? Since when do you have a daughter?” Joe asked dumbfounded and he was waiting for the punchline of the joke that just came out of your mouth.

“Since I got pregnant when I was a teenager. Joey, I promise I'll explain but not now. Move so I can get up.” You said as tears were threatening to fall down your face.

“So you mean to tell me that you lied to me? And you've been lying to me this entire time?! I knew that something was off with you and I was right! What else are you hiding?! Are there more kids that I don't know about? Why would you lie about something like that?”

“Nothing. I'm not hiding anything else, I promise.” You said as you slipped on your shoes.

“Hmm, your promises have now been proven to come up empty so I don't want to even hear it. Just do what you have to do.”

“Joey…”

“No, I don't want to hear it. I hope your daughter is okay, but….”

“But what?”

“How am I supposed to be with someone who lies to me? Especially something as big as that?”

“It’s not that simple. I'll explain if you just give me the chance.”

“Oh, but it is. Get your stuff and you can leave.”

“I… fine.” You told him as you grabbed your overnight bag from the chair in the corner and your cell phone that had been placed on the nightstand after you had gotten that frantic call.

You looked at your keys and quickly took the key to Joe's condo off and left it on the nightstand that was closest to his side of the bed.

Without another word, you walked out of his bedroom and down the steps to eventually make it to your car. Once your belongings were in the backseat, the water works that you had been trying so hard to hold in, made themselves known and it was like a dam had broken.

After sitting there for a few minutes and giving yourself a pep talk, you made your way to Nalanie's father's house to make sure that she was okay.

It didn't take long before you were knocking on the front door and it was whisked open by Nalanie herself who then placed you in a bone crushing hug as tears were still streaming down her face. You rubbed small circles along her back as you kissed her cheek in order to get her to calm down.

“Lady Bug, are you going to tell me what's wrong? I'm here now and you're okay.”

She slowly nodded her head and broke her embrace from you and moved to the side so that you would be able to come into the house. Once she did, you were greeted by Jayson and his wife Sabrina who had come from the kitchen in order to greet you.

“Hey, she’s been like this for the past hour. Won't say anything to us. All she wanted was you.” Sabrina told you as she hugged you.

You nodded your head before also hugging Jayson, but Nalanie stayed quiet.

“Lady Bug?”

“Can we just go home?” She quietly asked and the first thing you did was nod.

“Go get your things and meet me back down here.”

Nalanie took the steps two at a time before Jayson looked at you and sighed.

“I was trying to handle it without us calling you, but I didn’t know what else to do. Anddd I just realized I ruined date night for you. How's you know who by the way?”

“Very upset with me because he found out about her like this before I could tell him properly and I think we just broke up? I had literally planned on telling him in the next two weeks or so and I was going to tell her too. But it's not important right now. What is important is my daughter so, if he can't accept her then he's not the one for me.”

“He's probably more upset about finding out in the way he did and not the fact that you have her.”

“Either way, we're probably done, so…”

“Don't give up on him so easily, he may surprise you.” Sabrina said before walking back into the kitchen.

“Just see how it plays out. This is the happiest that I've ever seen you and I would hate for you to miss out on that. Just give him time to process.” Jayson told you and you simply nodded as Nalanie reappeared with all of her bags in tow.

Nalanie said her goodbyes to her father and Sabrina and you picked one of her many bags up off the floor to carry outside. You never understood why she needed so many bags for a three day weekend, but then again she was your child and simply took after you when you thought about how you would do the exact same thing.

The two of you were now home and as soon as you opened the door, you wasted no time in asking her what was wrong.

“Okay, out with it.”

“I got my period and got really scared.”

“Oh, Lady Bug, that is nothing to be scared about. It happens to everyone that has a uterus.”

“I know that I could have asked Sabrina, but I just wanted you. I remember you telling me about what to do if you weren't around and it happened so I took a pad from underneath the sink. I'm sorry that I took you away from whatever you were doing.”

“Don't apologize. You needed me and never ever apologize for needing me. So, how about this?”

“What?”

“Take a bath, put on pajamas and we'll sleep. When we wake up, I'll do your makeup and your hair while we watch Mean Girls?”

“Ooh, deal! Can we make popcorn too?”

“Of course we can and then we're going on a snack run. You can't be on your period and not have a supply of chocolate and ice cream in the house.”

It had been almost an entire two weeks and Joe's finger kept hovering over your number as he debated on calling you while he sat in his living room.

This had happened ever since he had told you to leave that night. The guilt crept in not too long after he had heard you close the front door and he debated on running after you, but decided against it.

He admits that he should've given you a chance to explain everything, but in that moment he was too mad to even listen to one. He couldn't begin to wrap his mind around how you have a daughter.

His mind kept going to you and quickly decided that after practice was over and he was home that he would call you and hopefully you wanted to talk to him, but he honestly wouldn't blame you if you had told him no.

Thinking that it was now or never, he pushed down with his thumb on your number and the phone began to dial.

It rang for a while and Joe was about to hang up, before he heard your soft voice come through the phone.

“Hello?”

“Um, hey.” Joe responded hesitantly.

“Surprised to hear from you. Did you dial the wrong number by chance?” You curiously asked as you were fumbling through your kitchen cabinets looking for ideas on what to make for dinner for you and Nalanie.

“No, I wanted to talk to you. Are you busy right now?”

Startled by this, you placed the box of macaroni noodles on the counter and sat down at the island, trying to take in what he had just asked you.

“No, not at the moment. I'm free to talk.”

“Uh, can we do this in person? I would rather do that than talk on the phone.”

“Sure, I can be over there in 15 minutes.” You told him as you glanced down at your watch. After going over there to see him, you would have to go straight to Nalanie's middle school to pick her up from practice.

“Okay, I'll leave the door open for you.”

It didn't take you very long to get there as you had anticipated, but the anxiety of seeing Joe again after the two of you had left things was starting to kick in.

Maybe this was a formal break up?

No, he probably just wants an explanation and as far as you could tell he was long overdue to hear the truth from you about everything.

Reaching his condo, you pulled into the driveway before getting out of your car and walking up to the door. Turning the handle, it was open just like Joe had promised and a deep breath escaped your mouth before turning it and walking inside.

You found him in the living room and he gave you a small smile before getting up to hug you which caught you off guard. You tightly hugged him back just in case that was the last time that you were able to do it.

“Hi.”

“Hi.”

The two of you were now sitting next to each other and Joe was the first to speak.

It was time to get it over with. Now or never.

“Y/N, why would you keep something like that from me? And you've done it for MONTHS. I'm just trying to understand.” he asked you, trying to make sense of the situation. He simply couldn't believe that you lied to him and lied to him about something as big as this.

“I wanted to tell you when I felt that the time was right. Please understand that. I had actually planned on doing it soon, but then everything happened so…..” You quietly said, but all he did was shake his head.

“And when did you exactly plan on doing that? At this rate, you probably weren't about to tell me until we got married.”

“That is not fair and you know it!”

“I knew something was up when you would go to another room to answer phone calls, never let me stay at your place with you and always shut down the idea when I asked, leaving early from date night. I care about you, so you could at the very least let me know what was happening. Even if you weren't ready for me to meet her.”

“I just didn't want her to get attached to you just in case we didn't end on the best terms. It's happened before in the past and I don't want her to be disappointed again. And I also didn't know how you were going to take it.”

“Hmm, I would have dealt with it because I love and care about you. But I see that you obviously don't give me enough credit. If something or in this case, SOMEONE is important to you, they're important to me too. How old is she anyway?”

“She just turned thirteen.” You quietly said and Joe's eyes went wide.

“I still can't believe you tried to hide the fact that you have a child from me.”

“Like I said, I was going to tell you. If you don't want to be with me anymore because I kept this from you, I get it. I think you made that pretty clear two weeks ago. I ultimately was just trying to protect her.” You quietly said feeling defeated.

Even though Joe was definitely upset with you, he moved closer to you and took your hand in his and started rubbing small circles on the back of it.

“What's her name?” He asked and from that point on, the light in your eyes returned.

“Nalanie Rue. But I've always called her Lady Bug. When I brought her home from the hospital and we were walking outside with her to get into the car, one landed on her nose and it's been her name since. I never call her by her real name unless she's in trouble, which isn't often. She's a really good kid and I honestly couldn't have asked for more. I'm really proud to be her mom.” You confessed as you told Joe about your daughter.

“I see the way you lit up when I asked you about her.”

“I got pregnant when I was 15 and was obviously scared out of my mind. I tried to hide it from my parents for a while but then my mom noticed that I wasn't using the tampons or pads she would put in my bathroom every month for me and she confronted me about it. They’ve always supported me even though I know deep down that they think that I robbed myself of my childhood, which is fair in a sense. I couldn't really go out with my friends unless I took her with me.”

“And you get along with her father? I'm assuming he is in the picture since he's the one who called you first?”

“Yes, he was there from day one when I told him and didn't back down. He's a year older than me. He got a job and would buy her as much as he could. Jayson. He's amazing to her and they have a good relationship. We're still close and he’s married now. But his wife treats Nalanie like she's hers and that's the best thing I could have asked for. I really lucked out because I know a lot of other people aren't as fortunate. My only prayer was that whoever he decided to marry would do right by her.”

“When did she meet his wife?”

“Literally right before he proposed to her and that was something that we both agreed on, but she did know about her. We never bring anyone around her unless we're absolutely sure that they'll be there for the long haul because both of us have messed up in the past with that. We want to protect her like I said before.” You honestly said and Joe was taking in everything that you had told him.

“And I told Jayson about you, but not Nalanie. From his perspective and the way that I talk about you he's really happy for me and all for it. But he did say that he wanted her to meet you. It might also help that you're his favorite player but who knows.” You said to Joe and a small smirk broke out onto his face.

“You're the one calling the shots here. I just want you to do whatever you're comfortable with. I would love to meet her whenever you feel that the time is right. But Y/N….”

“Hmm?” You asked as you turned once more to look at him and he sighed before answering you.

“You can't keep things like this from me. We've been together for a while and you know better than anyone how much I'm going to be there to support you with whatever is going on in your life, just like you do for me. No more secrets. Promise me. I get your reasoning behind it, but you having a daughter was not going to be a dealbreaker for me.”

“Promise. No more secrets from here on out.” You replied back to him as he leaned over to place a kiss on your forehead. He relaxed into the couch as you brought your head slightly to the left to be able to lean against his chest as he wrapped his arms around you.

“Do you want to see what she looks like?” You asked Joe at the same time that you had reached for your phone, not really waiting for an answer.

You never wasted an opportunity to show off your daughter and let people know how proud you were of her.

Joe nodded as you went to your gallery and pulled up the most recent photos of the two of you and moved it closer so that he could see it.

“She literally looks just like you.”

“My little twin. Everyone says the same thing when they see her except she's a little taller than me. She is literally my baby. I cried when she turned thirteen. I can't wrap my head around me now having a teenager.”

“And you’re going to do such an amazing job with her. I can see that you already are.”

“Well if you're ready to meet her, we can do it tomorrow. It's Thursday and she likes football just as much as her parents do.”

“How about football and an ice cream date? Does she like ice cream?”

“She does. Mint chocolate chip is her favorite and I always tell her how weird she is because I never met a kid that said that was their favorite flavor. Oh, and I should tell you something….”

“That's wild that she likes that flavor, but what is it?”

“The Bengals are her favorite team and for good reason but…”

“But what?”

“Ja'Marr is her favorite player so she is going to interrogate you about him.” You confessed as you stifled a laugh and Joe held his hand over his heart pretending that he was hurt.

“But I think the two of you will get along just fine.”

“Oh, and I think you'll need this back.” Joe told you as he reached into his pocket and pulled out the key that you had left on his nightstand.

Staying over with Joe lasted around forty five minutes until you told him about going to get Nalanie from practice. Once you had picked her up and the two of you were eating dinner and watching Netflix, you figured that it was a good time to tell her about meeting Joe tomorrow and nudged her to get her attention as she was sitting next to you on the couch.

“I have something that I want to tell you.”

“Okay, I'm listening. Is everything okay?” She replied as she turned to look at you.

“Everything's fine. I want you to meet someone really special to me tomorrow after you get home from school. We're going to get ice cream and…”

“MINT CHOCOLATE CHIP!”

“Yes, you can have that disgusting flavor and we'll watch Thursday Night Football with him.” You told her as you turned up your nose and she promptly stuck her tongue out at you.

“That is literally the best flavor of ice cream, you are such a hater. But wait a minute… him?”

“Yes, him.” You replied as you nodded your head.

“Hmm, I have to approve. I need to make sure that he's good enough to be in a relationship with my mom. If the two of you are in a relationship that is.” She said as she narrowed her eyes at you suspiciously.

“We are and I forgot how overprotective that you can get but I definitely think that the two of you will get along really well. You two like a lot of the same things including football.” You said as you thought about her probably wanting to go to every Bengals game once she meets Joe.

“In my eyes, only very few people meet my expectations of being good enough for you. And I want to see you happy, but you look happy so I guess he's doing something right so I'm okay with it. And I know he must be important because I never meet anyone that you date.”

“And be nice. No interrogating.”

“No promises.”

You and Joe agreed to meet at one of your favorite ice cream stands that wasn't too far from your job and you found yourself going there sometimes when you got a break to destress by eating a treat that you knew was going to satisfy your craving. It also had a small park nearby and that's where you planned on meeting him.

Nalanie was actually bouncing off the walls and very excited to meet the mystery man, or it was the fact that she was going to get ice cream in the middle of the week.

It was probably the latter.

The two of you were in line and you were about to pay for your ice cream as well as Nalanie's when you felt a presence behind you. You got a whiff of the cologne that you grew to love so much and knew that it was your boyfriend. Joe then slipped the cashier his card as you shook your head and smiled while Nalanie was looking around confused.

“Wait, mom, where's your man? Is he late? I thought he was supposed to be here already. And why is Joe Burrow here? Wait! Is Ja'Marr here too?” She asked as she was looking around to see if she could spot her favorite player.

“Lady bug, this is my boyfriend Joe and Joe this is my daughter Nalanie.”

“It's nice to meet you Nalanie, your mom has told me all about you.” Joe told her and she slowly nodded her head up and down indicating that she was still taking everything in.

At that moment, her eyes went wide.

“I.. wow… It's nice to meet you too. I had this whole speech in my head to interrogate you with but now I can't remember a word of it.”

“Nalanie! I said NO interrogating!”

“He seems like he would be able to take it anyway.” She told you and you shook your head at her.

“I didn't bring Ja'Marr, but maybe next time. Since someone did tell me that he was your favorite player.”

“Don't be jealous, you're a close second.” She replied as she smiled.

Over the next several months, you watched as Joe and Nalanie grew closer and was happy that they were building such a good relationship with one another. There were even a few conversations that had happened regarding the two of you moving in with him and of course Nalanie was all for it, but you on the other hand wanted a little bit more time before you came to a final decision about it. Joe told you that there was absolutely no rush and that the offer would stand.

It was currently Friday and you were stuck in traffic due to an accident as you were on your way to get Nalanie. You didn't want to keep her waiting and since it was her weekend with you instead of spending it with her dad, you quickly asked Joe if he could get her for you.

You- Joey, I'm stuck in traffic, could you go and get Nalanie for me? But only if you aren't busy. I owe you for this.

Joey- You don't owe me anything and of course I'll go and get her. We'll wait for you before we decide on dinner.

You- Thank you, I love you 😘💕

Joey- I love you more and be safe.

Nalanie was surprised to see Joe instead of you as he pulled up in his Porsche, but quickly slipped into the passenger seat as Joe had leaned over to open the door for her.

“Hey, where's my mom? Not that I’m not happy to see you or anything.” She told him as she brought the seatbelt across her body.

“Stuck in traffic so she asked me to come and get you. We'll decide on dinner once she gets back. How was your day at school?”

“Hmm, it was okay, but this boy Cody is convinced that girls don't know more about football then boys so we got into an argument at lunch about it.”

“Did you know that there are more women who actually watch it then men do?” Joe told her and she quickly nodded.

“See!? And that's what I told him. I was firing off all these stats about my favorite players, you were included, and he was just looking at me like he didn't know what I was talking about.”

One thing Joe knew Nalanie was passionate about was football and sports in general and that you and her were never one to back down from an argument or discussion regarding it.

“He sounds like he talks a big game, but can't back it up.”

“I'm convinced that his head is full of air instead of a brain.”

“You literally sound just like your mother.” Joe told her as he laughed and came to a slow stop at a red light.

“I have a question. Well, two actually.”

“Ask away.” Joe told her as the light turned green.

“Well first, when are you going to marry my mom? She's really happy with you and I can tell.”

Hearing Nalanie ask this caught him off guard, but he quickly composed himself.

“Hmm, funny you should ask. Can you keep a secret? And I also wanted to ask you something.” He said and she quickly nodded.

“I already got her ring, just have to plan when I'm going to do it. And I wanted to ask your permission too, because I feel that it's important.”

“Really!? Well you already know that my answer is yes. I already consider you my bonus dad and that's a plus. This is the happiest that I've ever seen her. What does it look like? Can I see it?”

A million thoughts were running through Nalanie's head about how excited she was about the entire thing. She finally felt that now her family would be complete.

“I have it hidden in my room, hoping she doesn't find it but I'll show you later. What was your next question?”

“Are you two going to have a baby? Or babies? I like the idea of at least three. I want a sibling or siblings to play with.”

“I… you are so full of questions today.”

“I only asked you two questions and you are definitely stalling. I guess all that media training has led you to be able to learn how to dodge questions.”

“I'm not dodging the question!”

“Lies! Then answer it!”

At that moment, Joe's phone rang indicating that it was you and quickly answered it as Nalanie made a face at him.

“Saved by the phone call. But I'm definitely going to ask again later.”

It was around eight at night when you were painting Nalanie's nails on the floor in the living room while Joe was sitting on the couch behind both of you and she noticed that you kept glancing at her.

“Uh, mom? Everything okay? You literally only do that when you have something that you want to tell me.” She asked as you were now painting a second coat. This also caught Joe's attention and he quickly looked over at you.

“Well there is something….” You said as you gestured for her to put her hand in the nail dryer.

“What is it?” She asked as she looked between the two of you and you looked at Joe to give him permission to tell her.

“I think that the role of being a big sister is going to look pretty good on you.” Joe told her and her mouth was now hanging wide open.

“Now I see why you didn't answer my question earlier.”

“Wait, what question?” You asked her and she sent a smile in your direction.

“I asked him when the two of you were going to give me a sibling, but I see that was clearly already in the works. I want at least three by the way.” She told you as she pointed to your midsection.

“Umm, we'll have to see about that and we wanted to make sure that everything was okay before we said anything about it.”

“Well I'm excited for that obviously and now I guess there's only one more part left.”

“And what part is that?”

“The part where you two get married and then we'll be a family for real.”

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[wolvietxt]

𝓭ay 𝓽wenty.

logan howlett and overheard conversation.

you had been feeling off for days. something nagging at you, pulling you into a spiral of self-doubt. it wasn't like logan to pull away. sure, he could be distant sometimes, but that was just him. you were used to his gruff exterior, the way he seemed to carry the weight of the world on his shoulders. but this felt different, and the thought had been gnawing at you, churning in your gut like a bad omen.

it was late afternoon when you overheard it. you hadn’t meant to listen in, not really, but it was hard to miss when logan’s voice carried through the hallway, rough and low. he was talking to someone - jean, you thought, by the sound of her voice.

"look, i just can’t be dealing with all that right now," logan was saying, and your steps faltered as you rounded the corner. you couldn't see them, but you could hear the frustration in his tone, the kind that made your heart sink. "too much… too fuckin’ clingy. i don’t have time for it."

the words hit you like a punch in the gut, knocking the air from your lungs. you took a step back, your pulse pounding in your ears. he wasn’t talking about you, was he? no, it couldn’t be. except… it wasn’t like you hadn’t noticed how distant he’d been lately. the way he avoided eye contact, kept his replies short. it felt like he was pulling away, and now, you wondered if maybe that was exactly what was happening.

you withdrew to your room, the hurt settling deep in your chest, heavy like a stone. the days that followed blurred together, and you did your best to give him space. you weren’t sure if it was the right thing to do, but you couldn’t bring yourself to push, to ask him what was really going on. so, you kept your distance, hoping that maybe it would help, that maybe it would make things easier on him.

logan, for his part, seemed to notice the change. you could tell from the way his brow furrowed when you didn’t meet his gaze, the way his hand twitched as if he was about to reach for you before thinking better of it. but he didn’t ask. and you didn’t say anything.

one evening, nearly a week later, you found yourself in the kitchen, the room dimly lit as you stirred a pot of soup on the stove. you tried to focus on the rhythmic motion, the heat curling against your face, but your thoughts kept wandering back to that day, to the sound of his voice saying you were too much.

"hey," logan’s voice came from behind you, startling you enough that you almost dropped the spoon. you turned to find him standing in the doorway, his eyes narrowing slightly at the way you tensed.

"hey," you replied, your voice quieter than you intended. "didn't hear you come in."

he grunted in acknowledgment, stepping closer, his eyes flicking over your face, like he was searching for something you weren’t ready to give. "been avoidin' me?" he asked, his voice low, careful.

your fingers tightened around the spoon, and you turned back to the stove, forcing yourself to keep stirring. "just… been busy, that’s all."

"that’s fuckin’ bull," he replied, blunt as always. "somethin's goin' on with you. and don't try to tell me otherwise."

the words were right there on the tip of your tongue, ready to spill out like a dam breaking. but the thought of confronting him, of opening up that wound, made your throat tighten. what if he confirmed it? what if he really thought you were too much? "i'm fine," you said, but even to you, it sounded hollow.

logan stepped closer, close enough that you could feel the warmth radiating off him, the familiar scent of pine and leather. "you're not," he insisted, his voice gruffer than usual, like he was fighting to keep his own frustration at bay. "you’ve been avoidin’ me for days. if i did somethin’, you need to tell me, baby."

your hands trembled slightly, and you gripped the spoon harder to steady yourself. "it’s not important," you murmured, but the words felt like a lie. you turned off the stove, setting the spoon down before you faced him, your gaze dropping to the floor as your vision began to blur. "just… forget it."

logan reached out then, his fingers wrapping gently around your wrist, keeping you from retreating any further. "don’t do that," he said, and there was a rawness in his voice that cut through your resolve, fraying the edges. "don’t shut me out."

you swallowed hard, your throat tightening painfully. "i overheard you," you admitted, your voice barely a whisper. "the other day. you were talking to jean. you said… you said i was too much." you lifted your gaze, the hurt spilling out despite your attempts to hold it back. "if you don’t want me around, logan, you could’ve just said so."

for a moment, he just stared at you, his expression unchanging. then, something in his gaze softened, and his grip on your wrist tightened just slightly, as if grounding himself. "what the hell are you talkin’ about?" he asked, his brows drawing together in confusion.

"you said i was clingy," you said, the words rushing out before you could second-guess them. "that you didn’t have time for it."

logan’s eyes widened slightly, and then he exhaled a rough, almost exasperated breath. "oh baby… you got it all wrong," he said, shaking his head. "i wasn’t talkin’ about you. jean was askin' if i could help out with some training sessions. she was sayin' i was stretchin' myself too thin, takin’ on too much. that’s all."

the explanation hit you like a gust of wind, leaving you momentarily off balance. "you… weren’t talking about me?" you repeated, your voice small, almost fragile.

"no, darlin'," he replied, his tone rough but gentle. "never."

the relief washed over you in a wave, but it was tainted by the lingering sting of doubt, the way it had burrowed under your skin, making a home there. "i… i just thought…" you trailed off, biting your lip. "i thought you didn’t want me around anymore. you’ve been distant, and i didn’t want to be a burden."

logan’s jaw tightened, and before you could pull away, he was tugging you closer, wrapping his arms around you in a firm embrace. "you ain’t a burden," he said, his voice a low rumble against your ear. "don’t you ever think that."

you hesitated for a moment, then let yourself sink into the comfort of his arms, pressing your face against his chest. his hand moved to your hair, stroking it gently as he held you close, the steady rhythm of his breathing grounding you, chasing away the remnants of your doubt.

"you scared the hell outta me," he muttered, his tone softening as his fingers continued to comb through your hair. "thought you were pullin’ away ‘cause you didn’t want me around anymore."

you shook your head, wrapping your arms around him a little tighter. "never," you whispered, the word catching in your throat. "just… got in my head, i guess."

logan’s hold on you tightened, and he shifted, pulling you into his lap as he settled back against the kitchen counter. his hand kept stroking your hair, and the other rested on your back, his thumb tracing gentle circles there. "you’re stuck with me, you know that, kid?" he murmured, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. "i ain’t goin’ anywhere. and i sure as hell ain’t gettin’ tired of you."

you let out a small, shaky breath, leaning into him, the weight of your earlier fears slowly melting away. "promise?" you asked, your voice muffled against his chest.

logan huffed a quiet laugh, his breath warm against your temple. "damn right, i promise," he said, his tone soft and sure. "you’re it for me, darlin’. wouldn’t want anyone else."

the words settled over you like a balm, soothing the raw edges of your heart, and you nestled closer, letting the warmth of his embrace seep into your bones. there was a long stretch of quiet then, just the sound of his steady breathing and the feel of his hand in your hair, and you let yourself drift in it, content to stay wrapped up in him for as long as he’d let you.

"you know," he said after a while, his voice a low murmur, "next time somethin’s botherin’ you, you gotta tell me, alright? can’t have you thinkin’ i’d ever wanna be anywhere else but with you."

you nodded, your eyes fluttering shut as you pressed a kiss to his collarbone. "i will," you promised, your voice soft. "i’m sorry i… didn’t say anything sooner."

logan’s fingers curled in your hair, and he kissed the top of your head again, his lips lingering there. "it’s alright," he murmured. "we’re alright."

and for the first time in days, you believed it.

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[auroreliis]

Hey there, I hope I'm not spamming your blog too much

Also long ask ahead I'm sorry

I would actually enjoy the idea of Batfam with a reader who tried to impress them/ bond with them trough their hobbies

Normally it's only done in neglect fics(no hate to those I love them) and id love to see the reaction in a more fluffy scenwrio

Dick? Reader shows up to every single a acrobatics completion he takes and cheer for him the loudest , and one day come up to dick and show him they won first place in an acrobatics competitons turns out reader has been practicing in secret to impress dick

Jason? Reader constantly exchanges books with recommendations with him, and pays full attention when they rant about how good/bad a book is, one day reader shily approaches him and offers him a book they wrote and published themselves

Cass?(Warning I know nothing about ballet) Reader always tries to get her tickets to shows she's interested in, and even gets her meet and greets/autograph with her favorite dancers, one day reader offer her a single ticket for a new shows , with the excuse that they could only get that, and turns out that reader is actually the main dancer in the show

And obviously with Damian reader is often with him when he paint, and if damian feels like talking, they ask him about what methods he's using and what "vision" he has for his painting, eventually reader ask him to judge their paintings.

(im skipping Steph and Tim, because

The ask is getting too long and because with Tim, his hobby is genuinely investigating mysteries, so that'd s bit complicated since it's mostly vigilante related work,and I don't remember if Steph has a Really specific hobbie that reader can try, she's would just be happy to spend time with them)

Hey! No worries about spamming :)

If you're trying hard to get along with them, then they get very excited and that leads to fluffy scenarios!

Dick would love to do acrobatics with you and he would make for a great mentor. Usually, Dick is known for being annoying, but this is only when you don't engage enough with him. However, when you do engage with him, he becomes a regular, affectionate older brother.

After you finish your daily acrobatic training, he usually carries you to your room and brings you whatever you want. Water? Of course, right away! Food? Alfred's already making it! You want him to put a film on? Yes, hopefully you don't mind him watching it too :)

Jason adores the fact that you like his recommendations when it comes to books. It's not that nobody else in the manor thinks his suggestions are good, it's just that he most values your opinion.

His favourite moments are when you and him are sitting in the library during the evening, drinking hot chocolate and reading books. Neither of you are talking, but the silence is comfortable. Sometimes, he stop reading to look over at you, but you don't notice, because you're so immersed in the story. He probably looks for more books to recommend to you, intending to sit in the library in silence again.

Tim has many hobbies and many hobbies that you are unable to take part in. However, Tim makes it quite easy to spend time with him. For example, watching films with him is something he suggests often. Somehow, Tim always know what you want to do without needing to hear you say it, so if a new show came out, he immediately runs to you and asks if you want to binge it with him.

Watching shows isn't the only thing you two do, though. Tim also enjoys talking to you about anything. You have a new hyperfixation? Tim is the FIRST person you have to tell, because he probably also has the same hyperfixation lol. Somehow, the two of you resonate on every possible level and that makes any mundane activity entertaining if both of you are present.

Stephanie didn't know what to say when you asked her to play the piano for you, but she couldn't just refuse, so she played for you. You can imagine her delight when you asked her to teach you how to play. It takes a while to learn to play the piano, but that just means she gets to spend more time with you :)

Cassandra is delighted to hear that you like ballet as much as she does. She would practice ballet with you and plan choreographies to challenge you a bit. Whenever a show worth watching came up, she would be the first to buy tickets for the two of you.

Much like with Jason, Cassandra is also comfortable with sitting in silence. She doesn't need to have a conversation with you to feel seen by you, just being in the same room is enough for her.

Painting with Damian has become a regular afternoon activity for you, though by "painting with", I mean "getting painted by", because as much as Damian believes in your ability to make great paintings, he sees something in you that makes you the perfect muse. Whenever he paints you, his paintings end up being brighter, they make his other paintings look bleak in comparison.

He finds himself adding some of your charm to other paintings. Whenever he paints a landscape, it looks empty without your favourite flowers in the field. If he paints a room in the manor, he adds some of your objects, perhaps your sweater is hanging over a chair in the corner, or your headphones are on the table in the living room. Now he is unsatisfied with every painting that doesn't have a hint of your presence in it.

[dontbesoweirdkira]

A/N: Had this in my drafts and i just needed to know i'm not alone.... Just thinking about possessive Dick Grayson being a sloppy and disgusting kisser. PLEASE HEAR ME ON THIS. errr this is a drabble that is kind of unfinished but you get the vibesss. There really no plot...just wanted an excuse to draft up this though so.....

Warnings: suggestive not full blown nsfw....

request: always open

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He'd have you pinned under his body the moment you entered the apartment. Your wrists were pinned together by just one of his hands and your legs were locked in between his muscular thighs. It hadn't taken much to completely subdue you like this, though you fought as hard as you could, you were helpless up against someone as skillful as he. He's ever so cocky about it at first too as his hot tongue trailed down the side of your neck until your body slightly twitched. ugh! He found a new sweet spot and it peaked his interests. You probably thought your loving partner wouldn't notice, huh? Oh, he notices everything, no matter how minor it may have been ...just like when he noticed how that person was eyeing you earlier.

"Be good and stay still for me. You don't wanna make me unhappy, right?"

You could feel his lips purse up into that cocky smile of his as he let out a chuckle. It was sly, maybe even a little twisted in the way he let it out. His mind was revisiting how good it felt to put them back in their place. Oh just how terrified they looked realizing how much they fucked up by having the audacity to even think they had a chance with you. And for Dick be on top of you like this right now while they were probably limping home? Man, that creep would flip his shit if he could see this. It gave Dick too much of an ego to be the only one in the world who'd ever have the pleasure to do whatever they wanted with you.

While he soaked in moments like this, you hated it. His arrogance left a sour taste in your mouth. Dick didn't deserve to be rewarded for this poor behavior and think this was okay. You tried once more to fight and tell him how you seriously needed to talk about boundaries but it was useless.

That didn't surprise you tho. Dick had selective listening and was too self righteous to ever admit to his wrong doings. He was like a puppy who desperately wanted to play but couldn't grasp the concept that he just destroyed the living room and you're pissed off at him. . You could punish, scream and threaten him but Dick will never fail to get what he wanted in the end.

His tongue met with the crook of your neck and slowly made circles in place.

"i'll let you curse at me all night but please just be still and let me just-"

He let out a breathy plead before he was sucked back into his selfish desires. It was pathetic how quickly he could melt into you. He hadn't even done anything yet but the taste of you was enough to send his body into overdrive. Suddenly he was the one struggling to stay still. It was far too hot in this damn apartment and his clothes were too restrictive. It was evident he didn't exactly know what to do with himself even though he's done this a million times. He couldn't stop himself from becoming overly excited each and every time he had you like this. So eager to explore your body like it was the first time all over again. His one free hand slithering under your dress and grabbing onto anything that was soft and plump.

You could feel your neck being pulled at as his lips sucked on your sweat spot. You tried to remain upset and stiff as he left his love bite but it was hard when you had someone as disgusting as Dick all over you like this.

Your eyes nearly rolled into the back of your head when his lips crashed into yours, shoving his perverted tongue as far as he could inside your mouth without any warning. The sounds of Dick's lewd moaning and smacking of each others lips filled the apartment as he sloppily made out with you.

He was so shameless in the way he handled you. He constantly craved more. More attention...more affirmations....more you.

Dick doesn't stop until he's begging you with his big, blue eyes, hoping you'd forget all about what he did to upset you. come onnn and be a good owner....he really...reallly wants to play right now.

[seonghrtz]

𝑟elationship 𝒉eadcanons. 𐙚 両面宿儺 ( streamer!au ) fluff 434 words + warnings. occ sukuna | brain dump headcanons.

Your relationship has the whole grumpy x sunshine and ‘hates everyone but her’ vibe!

You're complete opposites in personality (and style), but you do have some tastes in common, which made matching easy.

When you met in person, Sukuna felt something different, but at first he denied his feelings, thinking it was too soon to develop anything.

At first, he was afraid to open up because he thought it would scare you away if you found out about his feelings.

But after you started dating, he opened up to you and is always open and straightforward about his feelings.

Sukuna loves to hear you talk, about anything. He loves your voice and listening to you is his way of getting to know you better.

He remembers everything you tell him, whether it's about you, your favorite show, or even some work gossip.

He likes all kinds of physical contact (as long as it's with you) and his favorite thing is when you run your hand through his hair.

Sukuna also likes it when you run your finger along his tattoos, following the lines, and secretly loves it when you ask him to color them.

He has a CD player in his house and has several CDs that he has recorded for you ⸻ the songs range from your favorites to songs that remind him of you to songs that remind him of your relationship.

Has a habit of calling you "sweetheart", "doll", "darling" and even calls you that when you're in the middle of an argument.

Sukuna hates to argue with you, but sometimes he's too stubborn to apologize first. In the end, a heart-to-heart will resolve everything.

Passenger princess privileges!!! He won't let you drive anywhere, that's his job.

It's a cliché, but Sukuna loves to see you wearing his clothes. Since he's very muscular, they tend to look big on you, which makes you look adorable in his eyes.

Matching Sanrio pajamas!!!

He likes to be the big spoon at bedtime; he feels it's his way of protecting you while you sleep.

On very hot days, he'll turn the AC on almost full blast just so he can hug you while you sleep.

Sukuna's addicted to your lips and will always find a way to steal a kiss from you.

And as shocking as it is, he likes long kisses because he can savor the moment.

Gentle, but can be rough (if you know what I'm talking about!!!)

You will always be the most beautiful person to him.

You're the only person who made him imagine getting married and starting a family.

© seonghrtz, 2024. all rights reserved, please do not copy / steal / translate / modify any of my works !

[mind-intheclouds342]

Do it for them - Co-captain reader x Curly

Previous - Part 8 - Next

"Hahaha! I still can't believe you drank mouthwash!"

You were all sitting on the floor in a circle, sharing some food from that day's supplies and playing cards while chatting.

You laughed while holding your stomach as you fell to the ground, making the man roll his eyes at your exaggerated reaction.

Swansea: "I thought you were never going to wake up, I needed something to endure this crap without you around trying to fix things."

"Aaaw! You worried about me!"

Swansea: "Of course! Careless captain!"

"You broke your sober years for me."

Swansea: "That doesn't count!"

Anya: "Well, it contained quite a bit of ethanol, so..." She mentioned with a chuckle.

Swansea: "If I say it doesn't count, it's because it doesn't count!"

Daisuke: "Hey! Who took my chicken-flavored noodles?? I was saving them!"

Anya: "Oh- were they yours? I'm sorry."

"You can have mine, they're shrimp flavor."

You extended your package to him, and after pouting, he accepted the change.

They were a month away from reaching the station, enjoying some time together, now they felt they could rest and enjoy since it seemed like things were going to be alright.

"I'll go see Curly."

You mentioned getting up ready to go to the infirmary.

As you walked through the hallways, you could hear several knocks coming from a door, and you approached to look through the armored glass in it.

You saw Jimmy's face appear on the other side, an angry look.

You raised one eyebrow at his expression.

"Do you need anything?"

Jimmy: "Get me out of this damn room!"

"I can't do that, you deserve to be locked up, like the animal you are. And Swansea should have already given you your rations, so you have nothing to complain about."

He hit the glass, making it resonate, but you couldn't help but smile at his anger, then continued on your way.

Upon entering the nursery, you saw Curly breathing heavily; you could tell he needed his painkillers.

You immediately looked for them to give them as you had been doing lately.

"You know... Everyone is much more relaxed now, we have hope."

You sat beside him, gently touching his cheek, not wanting to cause him pain or discomfort.

"Everything will be fixed soon... I promise... You're going to be fine... And maybe it's not so bad that they're going to fire us... Damn it, they're not even going to pay us the full amount for the work... But at least we'll be home."

You smiled leaning back in the chair until you noticed Curly's gaze on you.

"Listen! Maybe it can't be fixed—this whole thing" you gestured to all of his body and face "But let's try to fix it as much as possible, okay?"

You didn't understand why he started making sounds until you realized they were sobs.

"Oh no... No, no, no, darling listen, we are a team, we always were one and we will continue to be, okay?"

You saw how he raised what was left of his arms in pain, in an attempt to touch your face while sobbing, it hurted you so much not to be able to understand him.

At bedtime, you knocked on Anya's room door, and she let you in.

"I wanted to ask you... Did something happen while I was asleep?"

Anya: "Well... You were by Curly's side the whole time, we needed you in the nursery, and I stayed by your side... I was afraid that Jimmy might do something to you."

"I see..."

You sighed as you looked at her face, she gave you a somewhat tired smile.

"Can I sleep with you tonight? Please"

Anya: "Of course - it will be like a girls' sleepover."

They both settled into her bed, tucked themselves in, and talked for a few minutes until Anya fell deeply asleep on your shoulder.

While you were staring at the ceiling thinking that...

At some point, she had to sleep.