#the only person I immediately pick up the phone for no matter where I am

[starkeyisthelastname]

It’s Always Been You Chapter Two:

Here’s chapter two my loves! 🥰 Disney World here we come! Yeah and Topper is super annoying in this series.. 😅 (I haven’t been to Disney World in years, so this just comes from a little background and research!)

Previous Chapter

"Why the fuck am I even awake right now?" Rafe grumbled to you as he climbed out of his F-150 truck that was now crookedly parked next to the sleek white Mercedes you drove. With an irritated sigh, he opened the back door to pull his bags out, nearly throwing them down onto the hard asphalt of the tarmac.

Rafe's grumpiness in the mornings was legendary, a trait that had been firmly in place even back in your elementary school days. You could still recall those car rides to private school, with either Rose or your mom at the wheel, Rafe grumbling in the seat beside you. So, when you slammed your trunk shut, your expensive tote bag slung over your shoulder and your large pink suitcase clutched in one hand, his predictable morning grouchiness was met with a healthy dose of eye-rolling from you. You yanked open the passenger door, leaning in to grab the frozen coffee you'd picked up for him. "Drink this and shut up," you ordered, practically throwing the cup at him.

Rafe shot you a smirk as you handed him the coffee, something only you would do for him. "You aren't going to tell people I drink this girly shit, are you?” He teased, his eyes traveling down to the way your ass looked in the tight leggings you wore. The things he wanted to do to you, whether they were wrong of him to think about as you were his best friend, but fuck did he want you bad.

“How did you know? It’s my plan to tell everyone that the big bad Rafe Cameron likes caramel frappuccino’s.” You said, standing back up straight, oblivious to the way he had been staring at your body. You turned to face him again, Rafe’s eyes immediately focusing on your own.

“Okay smart ass.” Rafe mumbled, hiding a smirk as the two of you began to make your way to the Cameron’s private plane.

Your parents were settled in, engaged in a boring business conversation with Rose and Ward over steaming cups of coffee. Wheezie had already dozed off, her blanket snugly over her head, while Sarah and her boyfriend Topper giggled at some TikTok video playing on her phone. Rafe shot a disapproving glance at the frosted-tipped haired boy as he strode past you toward your usual seats. Sarah and him didn’t get along most of the time, and her boyfriend Topper only made it worse for him to keep his anger in check as the idiot was constantly running his mouth to be a smartass. People like him were the reason Rafe had to always have his vape and cart pen on him.

“Why is he coming? They've been dating for what? Five fucking minutes.” Rafe grumbled, plopping down into the leather seat next to the window as he took his sunglasses off. You sat down next to him, placing your bag on the spacious floor, before getting comfortable. “What? Sarah’s boyfriend isn’t aloud to come?” You asked with a small laugh, looking over at the couple. Even though Rafe and Sarah didn’t get along, you and her were close, despite her being a few years younger. Topper wasn’t the most pleasant person to be around, but he was making Sarah happy which was what mattered.

Rafe leaned his head back against the plush headrest, looking at you as you sipped on your coffee. You were so effortlessly beautiful even makeup free, still looking like a stunner. Your eyelashes were freshly filled, eyebrows threaded and lips lightly glossed in the Dior lip oil he knew you always wore. One thing he loved about you is that you always kept yourself together, even at a time like this where there was an early flight. You were expensive, and high maintenance, always taking pride in the way you looked. It was starting to eat him up inside at how much he just wanted to shower you with compliments.

“He’s a fuckin prick who is always trying to get under my skin on purpose just to piss me off so he can see me flip out.” Rafe said, buckling his seat belt as the pilot announced they were about to take off. It was hard enough for him to try and control his anger and someone like Topper Thornton didn’t help when he was trying to do his best to be a better man and figure out his emotions.

You fastened your own belt, reaching over to intertwine your fingers with his as taking off always made you anxious. “He’s not worth it, don’t let him get to you. If he chooses to act like an idiot that’s on him not you.” You told him, running your finger across the gold signet ring that adored his left hand. You knew how important it was for him to try and do better after getting clean.

Rafe was so goddamn in love with you, it fucking almost scared him…and he had done some pretty scary shit. You were the only one who understood him. The calm to his brutal storm. He gave your hand a squeeze, kicking himself in the head on why he couldn’t be a man and tell you how he really felt about you. He had to figure out his emotions and fast before he lost you to someone that would never be worth your time.

Rafe seemed to be in a somewhat better mood as the plane landed, and he had eaten breakfast. That mood quickly changed though as he found out you two were riding in the same car as Sarah and Topper. You could see him from your peripheral vision, trying not to bang his head against the car window as Topper talked non stop. His hand came down to the pocket of his sweatpants, digging in them for a few seconds before pulling out the dark blue cart pen. He took a hit off of it, inhaling the smoke before blowing it out the cracked window.

“You know I don’t think those are the best for you man.” Topper said from behind you as Rafe took another hit. He was such an asshole, and as much as you loved Sarah you didn’t know how she put up with those smartass comments.

“Don’t care.” Rafe said, nonchalantly as he felt the weed cool his inner self down from the yapping that frosted tipped idiot was spewing.

It was Topper’s comment of “One addiction to another.” Whispered loudly on purpose to Sarah, that had Rafe immediately turning around.

“What the fuck did you just say?” He asked, blue eyes flashing dark in anger. The last thing that he needed was this dumbass to start speaking about shit he didn’t even know about in the first place. You slowly reached over, placing your hand on Rafe’s knee to give a gentle squeeze, knowing you were the only person that he would calm down for. You knew exactly how violent Rafe could get, and when he was on cocaine it was about 50 times worse. As hard as it was, and definitely wasn’t right, Topper wasn’t worth losing his cool over.

“Top, don’t.” Sarah told him softly, not wanting a fight already to happen on this trip. As much as she loved Topper and didn’t necessarily get along with Rafe, she still knew her boyfriend didn’t stand a chance with her older brother if his mood got to a 100.

“Fuckin pussy.” Rafe mumbled under his breath, turning back around and looking at you with apologetic blue eyes. God, he just wanted to be the best version of himself for you. There was no way you would ever give him a chance if he kept flipping out at every little thing that pissed him off. He had to keep the promise to himself to really try and do better, but that punk was already getting on his last nerves.

Thankfully the rest of the car ride to the resort went smoothly, the suv soon pulling into The Grand Floridian Resort & Spa. The entire family headed into the lobby, where Ward checked in and then told everyone the suite arrangements. Your parents along with Ward and Rose would be staying in one suite, while the rest of you would be staying in the other.

“There’s a room with two queen beds and one with a king size bed.” Ward started, handing the five of you keys. Before Wheezie could even say it, the older man put his hand up. “And Rafe is getting the king size bed.” He said, causing the 13 year old to pout. He then told the five of you to go explore the resort, relax or whatever you wanted to do before meeting at the restaurant Victoria and Albert’s later for dinner.

You couldn’t help but watch Rafe as he walked in front of you. You loved how tall he was, his frame massive and broad shoulders and muscular back, flexing effortlessly throughout the black t-shirt he wore. He was like a tree you wanted to climb and if you ever told him that out loud, he would most likely jokingly call you a dumbass. You quickly brushed your thoughts away as everyone piled onto the elevator, realizing every little thing Rafe was doing had you thinking about him.

The way you were standing, your back was pressed to Rafe’s front. He could smell your perfume, sexy and sweet just like your gorgeous self. Your perfectly shaped ass was too damn close to him, his hands gripping onto the railing to keep himself from wrapping his arms around your waist, and holding you against him. He was thankful yet disappointed that the elevator climbed to the right floor quickly before he lost control. You were damn near making it almost impossible, every little thing you did reminding him how in love with you he was. He had to start making some kind of move, even to see if you were open to the idea of being more than just best friends.

Entering the suite, you couldn’t help but laugh a little as both you’re parents always made sure everyone had the best. The suite was spacious, a small living area and kitchenette on the left side, while the right side held a small hall with two bedrooms spilt across from each other. It was when you were following behind Wheezie towards the room with the queen beds, that you felt Rafe tug your arm back.

You frowned, looking at him as you wanted to go set your stuff down. His tall body looked massive in the dim hallway, as you looked up into his blue eyes. He nodded towards the room behind him, before speaking. “Stay with me.” He said, his voice a little softer than usual.

You were no stranger to sharing a bed with Rafe, you had literally known him your entire life. You weren’t sure if it was your overwhelming feelings for him or what, but something about this felt different. You found yourself nodding though, watching him smile as he dragged you into the room with the king size bed.

“Can’t let my favorite girl suffer in there with Wheezie’s snoring and Sarah and bozo’s bullshit.” He said, shutting the door behind him. He loved his sisters, sure. You were superior to everyone in his mind though, especially since he was an asshole to every other female but you.

His favorite girl. It was something you heard often but never got tired of. You sat your bag down onto dresser, walking over to the window where you couldn’t help but smile at the view. “You bitched about coming here in the first place and you still get the room with the best view.” You teased him, pretty eyes glancing at Cinderella’s castle in the distance.

Rafe did get the room with the best view and it wasn’t Cinderella’s castle. “Yep, sure do. Wanna know why?” He asked, his long legs walking across the room to stand behind you so that he could see out the window better and just be near you again.

You hummed, looking back at him as his baby blue eyes shined in the sunlight as he looked down you. He smirked, leaning in closer towards your ear. “Because I’m fuckin Rafe Cameron and I get a whatever I want.” He whispered, his voice sending goosebumps down your skin as his hot breath tickled your neck. He had to make you his by the end of the week, he couldn’t go back to Kildare without having tried to tell you how he really felt about you. If you rejected him, it would be the most painful thing he would experience, but at least he would know.

tag list: @alinavalentine @rafesfuckdoll @ijustwanttoreadlols @maybankslover @rafeyswrd @gh0stsp1d3r @chenslucy @mattyskies @skye-44 @xoxohlala @saveahorserideaspacecowboy

if i missed anyone or you’d like to be added let me know! 💖

[there-will-be-a-way]

My best friend. I've never ever loved anyone this much. And being human is complicated. Emotions are complicated.

If things were different (if I wasn't trans and was 20 years older), we'd be married.

[skrunksthatwunk]

playing dmc1 with my earbuds in (but on low volume bc they're being weird) while my roommate and her shitty bf argue. i feel like i'm recreating the very specific experience of some child of divorce out there

[nathaslosthershit]

Teen Dad (OP81)

(Part 1 of the Blind Item Series) (Part 1 of the Teen Dad OP AU)

Summary: Rumors are flying about a young driver with kids

Seeing the rumor, and various other tweets commenting on the matter, first thing this morning was like getting a bucket of ice water dumped on him. Oscar immediately sat up, frightening his fiancée who was asleep next to him a moment before.

“What? What's wrong? Are you okay?” she asked, sitting up.

“Fuck this is not good.” He mumbled as he looked through more tweets. He knew he had minutes before his PR team started messaging him on how best to proceed. 

“Osc, you are really scaring me. What is going on?” His fiancée asked again. After 5 years together and two kids, she knew him well enough to know that Oscar isn’t easily woken up. While he usually wakes up early to train or help the kids, on days like today where he has the chance to sleep in, he will usually take it. But the amount of notifications he started getting were enough to get him to check his phone and once he saw the severity of the situation he was awake and alarmed. 

“A blind item about a ‘younger f1 driver with two kids he had as a teen’ just went up. No confirmation on who but it seems they have gotten it down to only a few of us. They don’t know yet but I am sure they will know soon.” 

He was grateful they hadn’t clocked in on him but Oscar was sure with a bit more time to dig people would put two and two together. He wasn’t ashamed of the fact that he was a teen dad, not anymore at least. When he was even more so an up and coming driver, he kept it hush because he was nervous being 18 with two kids would lead teams to reconsider where his priorities were, his family or his career. That wouldn’t have been crazy of them to do though, as important as racing was to Oscar, he would always pick his family first. Luckily, though, he had a great enough support system so he didn't have to choose. 

Most people in Oscar’s life knew. Any teams apart from Prema, Mclaren, and Alpine were none the wiser but why would they need to know? Not all drivers knew either, some who he had become closer to were let in on the secret, especially Logan, who had been there the entirety of his kids' lives. Annoyingly, at least in Oscar’s opinion, he has been titled ‘the cool uncle’ from day one. 

“What do we do?” his fiancée asked, snapping him out of his spiraling.

“I imagine it is up to my team to figure that one out. I’ll message them now. Get the kids ready and I’ll be done in time to help with breakfast.” He said as he got up.

After a long, pretty impromptu, call, it was decided Oscar would make a statement about it before it was revealed to be him. He wasn’t too happy about not getting to really do it on his own terms but this is the way it worked out, and hey, Oscar would be lying if he said he wasn’t already planning which race he was going to bring his kids to first.

oscarpiastri

liked by mclaren, logansargeant, landonorris, and 518,294 others

oscarpiastri This is of course not how I wanted to do this. I had hoped to have more time before I had to let the peace of privacy go but these things happen when you are in the spotlight. So yes, I am a father of two great kids and I have been since I was 18. I am not ashamed by the fact I was a teen dad, and am certainly not hiding my kids out of anything but love. I hadn’t realized I could truly love anything or anyone more than racing but then these two came into my life and I realized I would give it all up for them. Luckily, with the support of their mother (who is my fiancée) and my family, I didn’t have to give it up. My four person family means more to me than anything and I count my lucky stars each night that I have been blessed with them. I ask that you please respect our privacy. This isn’t the end of you seeing the Piastri twins but I, being the over protective father I am, am not ready to throw two 3 year olds into the chaos of the motorsport world just yet.

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Part 2: A Much Needed Interview out now!

[panqueen]

Worries

Aaron Hotchner x FEM BAU Reader

Warning: Mentions of death, accidents, panicked Hotch.

Use of Y/n: Your name and L/n: Last name.

—————————————————————

Aaron Hotchner stands on a sidewalk across from a crime scene with his phone up to his ear mumbling to himself worriedly. Garcia sees his panic and walks over with a smile.

“You okay Boss?” she asks concerned.

“She’s not picking up” he grumbles panic setting in when he only gets Y/n’s answering machine.

“Who?” she asks confused.

“L/n she’s not picking up, dammit!” he sighs putting his phone in his pocket starting to pace.

“It’s alright Hotch I’ll try to reach her” she assures him with a smile and rushes to her computer to see what she can do.

Hotch continues to pace bringing his hands over his chin scratching at the stubble his usual nervous tick. The team stand further away watching him with confusion.

Hundreds of thoughts are rushing through Hotch’s mind. You could be hurt, the unsub could have got to you, you could be stuck in traffic for all he knows but it doesn’t matter because only panic fills his mind.

He looks over towards the entrance when he sees you walk through with an apoplectic smile. He immediately rushes over looking you over for any indication that you’re hurt.

“Where were you?” his voice strict.

“Sorry I’m late my car wouldn’t start so I had to take the metro” she apologizes.

“Something could have happened, I thought-we all thought something happened” he raises his voice slightly.

“I’m sorry it won’t happen again” she nods looking down embarrassed at the eyes watching them.

———

Later that day after the case was solved Y/n sits at her desk finishing her paperwork and more since Hotch gave her extra for what happened earlier, she says her goodbyes to the team as they leave.

It’s only Hotch and Y/n left in the building finishing up the paperwork. Once she’s done she takes it to his office knocking lightly not wanting to disturb him.

“I finished the paperwork, I’ll just leave it here” she places it on his desk turning around to leave.

As she’s about to walk out she throws caution to the wind and turns back around to him with an annoyed expression.

“How come when Spencer is late because he takes the metro you don’t care, and just brush it off but when I’m a few minutes late because my car didn’t start you give me extra paperwork and yell at me?” she asks growing frustrated.

He looks up with a frustrated frown and sighs leaning back in his chair rubbing his chin looking at her.

“Well-why?” she asks impatiently.

“I called you multiple times and you didn’t pick up so unless your phone is broken or dead there’s no excuse” his tone sharpens.

“Whatever- good night Hotch” she turns to leave.

“I was worried” he stops her in her place with three quiet words.

“I’m fine” she assures.

“But you could have been hurt or worse, Y/n with the work we do it’s crucial I know you’re safe” he stands up walking towards her.

“You don’t react like this with the others” she looks at him confused.

“The others are not you” he stands in front of her holding her elbows pulling her slowly towards him.

“Why am I different?” she quietly asks feeling her chest tighten in anticipation.

“Because you’re you- the only person who makes me feel as panicked and anxious as I do when I think of something happening to you” his tone softens as he looks down at her.

He leans down close to her face. She feels his breath on her cheek and leans closer into his touch.

“You are the most infuriating woman I’ve ever known, yet I can’t seem to stay away from you” he whispers against her lips.

She looks up into his eyes and presses their lips together. He groans into her mouth as she deepens the kiss not wanting to let him go.

It’s safe to say after that kiss Aaron Hotchner worried everyday for you and has made sure to always have contact whenever need be.

———

[cinnamonest]

OMG I MISSED YOUR WRITINGS ON SCARAMOUCHE SO MUCH!!

Please I need the version with camgirl reader x incel Scaramouche 🛐

And I hope you are well !!! <3

The way I was gonna make this a fairly simple post and then I got carried away and now it's 9k words WHOOPS

Anyway YES anon, I am on the slut girl x virgin boy agenda... although since I already have a camgirl, this time I went with like an onlyf*ns/e-girl darling + college AU >:3

//noncon, cyberstalking, blackmail, harassment, misogyny, sadism, nipple/ass stuff, revenge porn/leaking, darling is portrayed as being feminine + implied to have a bf

---

You tell yourself it's just to get you through college.

That's how you convinced yourself to start the account — regular camming requires a schedule and streaming and all that, which you'd rather not do, whereas the other outlets let you sell subscriptions for photos and videos, and there was a decent market out there, so you took your best shot, did some work to advertise yourself on mainstream social sites, and hey, it worked. You soon find yourself with a steady stream of income, and all you have to do is masturbate on camera and take a few posed photos of your body.

A few years of some extra income, and then you'll be done, get a better job, and you can delete the account and scrub the internet clean of any trace of the matter. Maybe some guy out there will keep some of the photos, but it can't be that bad.

This way, you can focus on your academics, which a regular part-time job would be too time-consuming for. You don’t have to worry about scheduling classes around a work schedule, either, which allows you to be more choosy on your class schedule, ensuring you get the later classes and don’t have to wake up early each day.

Except one, where you had no choice but to take the early class, as the other sections filled up fast. It’s one of those required tech-involved ones, you just picked from the list at random — one of those big classes with hundreds of people in a huge auditorium, any degree of personalism drowned by the sheer number of people. It’s a male-dominated subject field, and the body of attending students when you walk in clearly reflects that, so you just sit down in the very back at the first unclaimed seat you can find, pausing to say good morning to the boy next to you, who only briefly looks your way in acknowledgement.

The professor goes over the generic first-day material — that yes, you need the expensive textbook, that yes, he will check attendance, and no, he will not give you extra credit at the last minute at the end of the semester, so on and so on… and—

—you’ll be working with the person next to you for the rest of the semester.

Even-numbered seats, the person to your immediate left, odd-numbered seats, to your immediate right. You turn and smile at the guy you’re thus assigned to, the same one you spoke to a few moments ago — once again, he just glances over at you and nods with some vague acknowledgement and then resumes doing what he’s been doing since the professor started, which is scrolling on his phone beneath the desk, only half-paying attention. That does not bode well for your predictions of how equally-yoked you’ll be in your work ethic… but no big deal.

It's one of those classes with a midterm and final project that you work on throughout the semester, rather than tests… which, hey, that could be fun, you tell yourself. You think you can get along. He doesn’t seem to care about what's going on around him much, which is not exactly good, but isn’t bad.

That dopey, happy demeanor… so obnoxious… ugh, you’ve got a notebook (an aesthetic, pretty one at that), and you're pulling it out on the first day of class? For what?

Except you aren’t reading him all that well at all. Unbeknownst to you, his eyes shift over to you and your activities throughout the class. And the reality is he very much does care.

That is, from the very second he lays eyes on you, you irritate him.

Then you write the class and your name at the top of the page all cutesy and artsy-looking, and then— God, now you're pulling out the multiple colors of highlighters and pens. Is that— is that one of those sparkly gel pens? Oh, it is. You’re making a little header with today’s date for your notes with it. Just kill him now. This is practically psychological torture.

Thus, while from your perspective, it feels like he barely pays you a second thought, in reality the rest of the period for him is spent just stewing in a stream of bitter, jaded thoughts.

Look at you with your… girl clothes and girl pens and girl notebook… you probably think you're so cute, spending money on dumb stuff like that… and smiling like an idiot. What are you so happy for. Why are you even taking this class when you'll just be bad at it. Why are you dressed like you put effort into it. Just pick up one of the sweatshirts laying on your bedroom floor like a reasonable person. And why do you smell so nice too.

He mulls over the negativity for the remainder of the class period, totally zoned out until people start packing up, which is the cue to leave.

Except you stop him before he can make a quick exit, holding out your phone, open to a new entry in your contacts.

Ah, since we'll need to work on the project, I can text you…

Right. That. Ugh.

The awkward discomfort of standing there and entering a name and number while you stand there with that dumb little nervous smile is only made more upsetting by the bitter realization that this will mark the first time he's ever had his number in a girl's phone before. Great, now he's going to be depressed for the rest of the day, and it's your fault.

You say thanks and smile again and your hands brush against his when you take your phone back and it makes him physically flinch in recoil — and you definitely noticed it, you mumble a little ah, sorry as if you're trying to make it even more awkward, now he's got to live with the humiliation of that too, and it's still your fault. Clearly, you are going to be nothing but a source of frustration.

And even once he's moped all the way back to the the comfort of his nice, dark apartment, he still can't escape your torment — no sooner does he flop down into bed than his phone goes off…

>Hi! Just wanted to make sure you can save my number too!

You add the little smiling emoji. It makes his eye twitch.

Trying to act all nice and sweet as if you're not only being pleasant because you're forced to work together. He knows full well you'd be all bitchy and demanding and hypersensitive in any other context, and probably all snobbish too, probably would barely pay him any mind.

Even if you are genuinely sweet, that in and of itself is still basically torturing him. Because what’s the point in you being sweet if you’re not going to give him anything more than that? With that in mind, even your niceness is just a cruel tease.

And why would you even be so happy to begin with? Doesn't being a girl suck? If he was something so weak and inferior and unintelligent, he'd be even more miserable about life, and that's really saying something. Maybe it's one of those things where you're so dumb that you lack self-awareness, so you can live a life of ignorant bliss... at the same time, the notion that you’re unaware of how inferior you are is equally frustrating. You should know, that knowledge should weigh on your mind all the time.

The frustration makes his chest feel tight, makes him grind his teeth… naturally, he has to get it out somehow, and there's a very convenient means to do so.

The imageboards he frequents almost always have a “leaked images” thread up and running, communities where they post e-girls’ nudes and revenge porn. The wrongness of it, of course, is the appeal.

Besides, they all deserve it. Some are images originally sent to boyfriends, posted as an act of revenge after cheating or dumping the guy (so it's deserved, really), others are leaked videos and photos from various pay-to-view networks and websites (also deserved, for being a whore), and finally some are just creepshots in public places (deserved once more, for dressing that way).

And the endless amount of the content and surprisingly good tagging system means that one can find any sort of content, and for the leaked porn accounts, it includes the girl's username and links to more of her, so you can see more of the same girl.

Like with this one, that just so happens to catch his eye. There's a whole page where some guy has paid for every single photo this girl has made, and put it out there for everyone to see for free. It's solo stuff, too, which is preferred — seeing couples making videos together, thereby watching the girl love on some guy, is depressing — and getting off to it is much more satisfying than any of the other girls on this thread, considering she looks like you.

…A lot, actually.

He's already memorized your annoying, pretty little face. The title of the video has the words “college girl” in it, too. Adds to the immersion, can feel like it’s really you, degrading yourself like that… of course, when it’s over, he has to deal with the reality that it isn’t, but the momentary pretending is cathartic.

And sure enough, as the first week passes, you quickly prove just as irritating as he initially suspected. You smile at him and talk to him every class, for some unknown, malicious ulterior motive. Are you trying to be belittling? Or are you trying to make him like you so that he'll do favors for you? Or is it for your own amusement?

Either way, the obvious deceit of it all is sickening. It's a commonly known female behavior. You try to come across as so sweet when in reality it's all an act, and you have some horrible reason for it. He just doesn't know what the reason is in your case yet. It would be better to be a bad person outright — the slimy underhanded fakeness of it all is what makes that type of evil so contemptible.

You, though, you’re just a bit puzzled. Normally, being nice to people works well… but this guy keeps sort of glaring at you… maybe that’s just how his face naturally is? But then, he also doesn’t talk very nice either. Not particularly mean, per se, but you can sort of sense an irritation, like you’ve done something wrong… you try to make the best of it, tell yourself you’re just imagining it. Besides, if he really didn’t like you, he wouldn’t respond when you talk to him, or would sit elsewhere, right? It’s not like you have to maintain the same seats all semester, as long as you work on the required material outside of class. So, you tell yourself, he must just be one of those people that naturally has that demeanor.

You’re not nearly as aware of it, but he makes his own observations of you too. You don’t check your phone nearly as much as he does, but every now and then, you look at something or another, and he always makes sure to subtly turn his eyes to see… it’s usually something stupid, like texts from friends, or worse, what appears to be a boyfriend, some male name you text often.

The first time you’re forced to meet outside of class, at the library per your suggestion — a very awkward interaction, but you seem to be fairly unbothered — you take a moment to check it when it vibrates. You’re sitting at an angle that makes it difficult for him to see without moving in a way that would catch your attention, but by pretending to take a swig of whatever can of liquid caffeine he has today (you had the audacity to comment how unhealthy it is), that he can tilt his head enough just to barely make out your screen without being noticed.

Your phone is open to an email.

The words flash across the screen for just a split second before you turn the screen off, but that one second is enough to make out the top of the screen. Enough time for the ‘hello, (username),’ preface to the email right beneath a very familiar blue logo to register with his brain.

He nearly chokes.

It takes every ounce of willpower to even try to hide the natural reaction — his eyes widen, he goes tense, he has to turn his torso away and pretend to fish something out of his cluttered bottomless void of a backpack whilst trying to refrain from coughing.

But then again, you put the phone away so quickly once you saw what it was… and the video from the other day…?

No. That can't be right.

There's no way. There's no way, there's no way, there's no way.

He can’t get back to his own place fast enough. Dropping the keys trying to unlock the door out of excitement, immediately whipping out his own phone, and he’s on the bookmarks tab before he can even sit down. Back to the leaks site, scrolling down to the tags where they put the girl’s username.

You’re wholly unbothered, going right back to talking to him in that overly-sweet tone, so nice, so frustrating, so torturous. You’re saying something. He has to get you to repeat yourself… no, it was just some pointless question about the homework.

To hell with that, that’s not even remotely important anymore… but he can’t voice that thought out loud, so he’s forced to tolerate the torment of waiting out the rest of your meeting until you finally say you’ll have to keep working later.

The usernames match. The one in your email was the exact same as the one now on the screen.

…

It's one of those moments where what's in front of him is so surreal, he's left so stunned, that he just sits there for a second, completely still, blinking and taking it in. Something that's too perfect to be real. This can't be actually happening, he's mistaken.

And thus he's just left perfectly still, a stupor of disbelief, sitting there in the darkness of the room with only the harsh light of phone screen shining up on his face as it slowly sinks in. It takes a minute — this is just the sort of thing that doesn't happen, it's far too perfect, he has to convince himself it isn't a dream.

And once it registers as reality, it feels exhilarating.

For one, it proves every suspicion right. He really did have a valid reason to be distrusting of your innocent girl act. To think, this whole time you were trying to fool him into believing you were good.

But all along, you were whoring out online, and basically, the fact that you're not upfront about that to someone you barely know is the same as outright lying about it.

Up until this point, life has just been so boring, so disappointing, just going through day to day… even college was just a thing to do because it's what everyone else does. But now? Now he has something exciting. A sudden sense of something meaningful, even if only as an outlet for pure, unadulterated malice.

As for you, well, you get a… well, a follower, but certainly not a fan.

The boy is a world-class hater. It's not passive hating, it's active hating. There is actual effort being put in here, and a lot of it at that.

In terms of the content itself, it's nothing you haven't seen before — some guy leaving comments and DMs calling you a whore and a slut and every nasty name one can conjure, saying you've ruined any hopes of a relationship by doing this, why would anyone ever date you when they can see you naked for a few bucks, telling you to get a real job, blah blah… fairly generic. A lot of the verbiage is certainly non-original, and more or less recycled, specific choices of words and phrases and lingo you know you’ve seen before in those pockets of the internet where certain types of men congregate.

But the sheer dedication to it is what catches you off guard. You're pretty sure this guy is more dedicated to harassing you than you are to the job itself. There's messages from all hours of the day, and you're certain after a short time that he makes multiple accounts for the sole purpose of harassing you. Not to mention he follows or adds you on everything — all the socials you've linked (you keep several associated to your account to lure in horny guys from mainstream sites), adds you on discord and any other messaging app you have (and you have no way of knowing which users are legitimate or if it's him, so you have to add them back and wait to find out each time). One of which you didn't even have listed on your page, so you realize he would have had to go through various apps and search the multiple variations of your username you use until finding you.

Telling him to fuck off accomplishes nothing, in fact he seems to derive great satisfaction from making you upset about it. Tells you that you should be glad — you wanted male attention, right? You wouldn't be posting yourself getting off and flashing your tits on camera for the world to see if you didn't, slut. He adds that insult to just about everything he says to you.

Blocking him only leads to him making new accounts (and then mocking you for trying to block him). You even reached out to a customer support team on one of your social media apps and got him permanently IP banned, which he then immediately circumvented in less than a few hours, making sure to inform you that changing one's IP is so easy and you're so dumb for thinking that would do anything.

But why you, specifically? Why decide to torment you out of every other girl doing this stuff? You don't know. You never asked for this. You never did anything wrong to anyone. You even scrolled back on your social accounts to see if you ever said anything someone could take offensively or had a negative interaction with someone, but found nothing. There's nothing to explain why this one man in particular has decided to come after you specifically, nothing you can think of at least. It feels like the universe just hates you.

It's actually kinda sad. You almost feel bad for this guy, who apparently has so much time to spare and nothing better to do than harass the same girl on the internet day in and day out. You did once shoot back a reply of don’t you have anything better to do?, which actually did make him stop… for about ten hours or so, then it was right back to it.

It's deserved, though, he thinks. E-girls are reprehensible. Taking advantage of guys’ loneliness for money.

Infuriating that you advertise something that he— well, that most guys want so bad, but don't actually give the real thing, only a simulation of it. Make them drool over you, while you hide behind the safety of the screen, far away from what those guys would do to you if they could get their hands on you.

And you know that too, don't you? You know how defenseless you are, know how much danger you'd be in if you teased without putting out like that to a guy in real life, and you do it anyway knowing you're untouchable, you must be so smug about it. Infuriating.

He's not like those simps of yours though, he finds you too morally reprehensible to be drawn to the curves of your body and the parts of you that you post and the sounds you make and how easy it is to imagine the softness of your skin and the way you feel and your warmth and the way you look directly into the camera as you moan and it feels like eye contact—

Anyway, he has standards. And self-respect.

Besides, he knows from stalking your social accounts — including your real ones with your real identity attached, separate from the others — that you have something like a boyfriend. Some guy who shows up in your pictures a lot. What a pathetic idiot. Who lets their girlfriend do this sort of thing? Even disregarding that, does this guy not know you’re meeting with him for your project too? He would never allow you to do something like that, were it him in that position. You must go after spineless guys who will let you walk all over them or something, and would only even accept boyfriends that allow you to do what you do.

That’s why, see, he would never accept something like that. Sure, there would be positives, like getting to see that sweet annoying smile and hear your happy obnoxious precious voice each and every day, and getting to touch you and be around you all the time, and you probably do really nice things for the person you’re with too, and he could always just force you to delete the accounts and never post yourself online again— but, whatever.

Point is, he’s better than stooping so low. He’ll keep living a respectable life, just like he does now — so he thinks as the phone alarm goes off, one of many set reminders to go send you more messages.

It's an awkward relationship, but you're pretty sure he doesn't hate you or anything, which is good. He's hard to read — he seems perpetually either bored or irritated, always slouched over, always maintaining that ‘I really wish I weren't here right now’ tone of voice, lots of heavy sighs or tsks scattered into his speech. Even when you agree to meet at the library to work on the homework and midterm project, he quickly establishes a pattern of being at least ten to fifteen minutes late (without any acknowledgement or apology at that), and frankly, you do the vast majority of the actual work, he just slaps his name on the corner next to yours once it's done.

The torment detracts from your sleep. You're late to your class more than once, trying to sneak in unnoticed by the professor and mumbling apologies to the students you have to slip by to get to your seat. Your partner doesn't seem to care much, at least — he just lazily glances over at you with a flat expression, then goes back to scrolling (he doesn't need to take notes, you'll just send him yours anyway).

He does step in to help when it's too difficult, you can't solve the problem yourself… which is how you realize that, in spite of being remarkably low-effort, he actually does understand the material, much better than you do at that. It's a bit embarrassing, since he makes it out to be so simple, but at least it somewhat compensates for all the work you do.

He's not particularly mean about it, he's just… not nice. The tone and choice of words tends to be not-so-subtly making you out to be dumb for not getting it, or that it's easy, or otherwise belittling.

…You really don't get that one? It's the exact same thing as the last one.

You give a sheepish smile and rub the back of your head.

Aha… sorry…

But it gets done, and that's what matters. You just walk away from each meeting feeling like an idiot, which isn't exactly a great feeling.

But even though you initially felt like the guy didn’t care for you, you quickly notice that he’s started to walk all the way back to your place after your meetings while you talk. You supposed he wouldn’t do that if he didn’t at least somewhat enjoy your company.

And you do try to make conversation. You ask about what other classes he takes…only to learn that he doesn't go to any other classes, since this is the only one where attending is required. He did the math, and he just has to do good on the finals for the other classes to pass, no need to show up for the tests and quizzes and lectures and stuff… and he did research into the professors to find ones where past students confirm they recycle the exact same tests and the past ones are posted online, and he's already got a good cheating method that's only been caught once in all the years he's used it… so there's no point in showing up, he says.

It's a very different mentality than yours, but you try to smile and refrain from saying anything negative. And you try interests and social life as topics, but quickly glean from what little he says that the guy has none of the latter and more or less just a phone and gaming addiction for the former.

Which you have no trouble believing, because good God, does the boy have a totally fried attention span. Even in your meetings, you swear he can't go five minutes without staring at his phone.

Oh, you like that too…?

That does end up helping you find a means to try and get closer. You manage to find one opening, something flash across the screen for some upcoming game. One you've been looking forward to as well.

Huh? You can’t like that thing. He likes that thing. It's not for females. It’s for people with good taste… it’s good… you can’t… someone like you would never be able to properly appreciate it… and now you’re just babbling away with that dumb smile while he’s going through a psychological crisis and rethinking every choice in life because of you. Does this put you two on the same intellectual level...? No, of course not, he has to quickly shake off any such doubts.

You were hoping to get a positive reaction, but you get silent bewilderment in his expression at first, for just a second.

Still, you’re supposed to be boring and a normie… you can’t just suddenly shatter the image of you he’s already constructed… and from the way you're talking about it, you know too much to just be pretending to like something for attention (which is the obvious automatic assumption for when females like media that's actually good and worth consuming).

Devastating. Now he has to consider the possibility that you do have interests and a personality besides being deceitfully sweet and whoring online.

But from your perspective, he just crosses his arms and shrugs.

Kind of, I guess.

And God, then you smile at him again. Every time you do that, it gives him some godawful tight-chested feeling, like you’re trying to kill him with psychic damage.

What gives you the right to be so happy right now anyway? Aren’t you supposed to be in constant distress, now? Is he not doing good enough of a job at tormenting you? You seemed upset, but clearly not upset enough, if you’re still emotionally stable enough to be nice to him. He has to break you, make you too distraught to even go on.

Online, you’re so mean, you never have anything nice to say, even though he’s not that mean to you — well, he could be worse, at least, which is basically the same thing.

Actually, he decides, how you behave in real life will be a good standard of how good he’s doing at making your life miserable. Once it starts to noticeably affect you even in real life, that means it’s sufficient.

But you prove resilient. Each day, you seem to get up, summon some resolve to still enjoy your life, and are still pleasant and friendly… or maybe you’re just really good at acting. Yes, obviously that’s it, since your whole sweetness thing is just an act in the first place.

On your end, the harassment gets worse. It comes in all hours of the day — does this guy not sleep? It’s almost hard to believe someone hates you this much, or even has the energy to keep this up… you start trying to just ignore it.

You tried threatening to report the guy for harassment, but he points out that he hasn’t threatened you with any real harm, and only targeted your public accounts, so no laws broken… and he’s already prepared by taking measures to— well, you don’t understand the spew of lingo that follows, but you gather that the jist is that it would be very difficult to trace him.

So you start to ignore it. You try your best to just not let it get to you, let the comments and messages go without acknowledgement or response. It’s actually somewhat relieving, if you just pretend it doesn’t exist. At first, when you start ignoring him, the messages get more frequent.

But then, it goes quiet for a day. Just around twenty-four hours, you don't get messages, nor comments.

It should make you feel relieved, you think, but it doesn't. Quite the opposite — you feel uneasy. Like something will happen.

He's getting bored, you see. You don't react as strongly anymore as you used to. You used to get so upset at all the messages he sent, and it was so fun to watch how you'd get all defensive and angry in your replies.

Then your replies got shorter, and now— what gives your the right to ignore him? It infuriates him. Dumb whore, treating him like you think you're so much better… or, the gut-wrenching thought passes through his mind, maybe you're busy, you’re probably visiting the guys you sleep around with, since someone like you could never be loyal to that boyfriend he's certain you have.

The only option is to progress things further. He has to think about that. He didn't really have a plan on where to go from here, but now he's started to think about the bigger picture, what he wants in the long term… and that's not going to go over well for you.

It takes some work and digging on his end, but it's worth it.

It's around three in the morning when your phone goes off. It just barely manages to wake you up. You think to yourself that you should remember to turn off the notifications for messaging apps… but for now, you sit up, groggily unlocking your phone. Seeing who the message is from, though, snaps you into full alertness.

A message that makes you go stiff, staring at your phone wide-eyed and slack-jawed, a cold knot of dread forming in your gut that quickly turns to an electrifying surge of pure panic as you read.

The name of your academic institution. The names, emails and phone numbers of your immediate family members. Your full, real name — and your address, down to the unit number.

Your heart sinks into your stomach. The glaring light hurts your tired eyes, but you can't look away.

You know he's just waiting on a response. Probably knows you're panicking, but knows you have no choice but to comply — and you're forced to give him the satisfaction of seeing you type back.

>What do you want from me?

It's only a few seconds before you get a reply.

>From now on, do what I want

>Or I ruin your life.

You hesitate a while before responding. Poor you, you must be so scared now that you're finally getting what you deserve. And even then, you just send back a ‘fine,’ even though it took you so long to respond. You were probably trying to think of how to respond, probably typed out longer potential replies, but decided on that to seem tough or something. That's actually almost endearing.

And oh, it's so, so satisfying to finally see you crumble, even if just a bit, the next day. For you to come shuffling into class for once with a downtrodden, nervous expression, making your way over to your spot without the usual greeting.

…Except that's also irritating. What makes you think you can just not say hello, now that you've established a routine of doing so every day of this class? For all you know, he's just the person you know in real life, so you're basically willingly choosing to potentially disappoint him. Not that you are disappointing him, but like, if he actually cared about your dumb little daily greeting, then he would be. He even gives you several extra seconds, and you still don't do it.

You're still fidgeting nervously, lost in thought when the mumbling directed at you pulls you out of your thoughts.

…Something wrong with you?

You seem to realize your sullen energy and attempt to fix it with a twitching, obviously forced smile.

O-oh, no, I'm just tired, haha… good morning!

He doesn't say anything back, just turns back to phone-scrolling as usual. You realize your melancholy must be showing on your face.

You're being overdramatic, too, he thinks. He didn't even give you any demands yet, since he decided it would be more fun to make you wait in suspense for a few hours or so. Seeing you squirm is funny, but really, you're acting like it's so much worse than it is. What a weakling, so sensitive.

It's just gonna be stuff you're used to anyway…

Which is somewhat true. You're used to the demand for private, custom content.

Men pay you sometimes incredible amounts of money for the stuff. Usually, the customization is about personalization — sometimes it's kind of sad, wanting you to say their name or that you love them while you look at the camera, and sometimes it's just more niche fetish stuff, like pictures of your feet or wearing a weird costume.

But everything this mystery man wants is different — the personalization has to do with the fact that it's painful, humiliating, or both. Moreover, he's never content with the first try.

Stuffing your holes with toys and sitting down on them so they go all the way in, specifically, ‘as many as you can fit’ — but even after the painful effort of getting one in each hole—

>That's not enough.

You can fit at least one more somewhere. And you're intentionally using the smaller toys, aren't you? You won't be able to do that next time, so don't try that again.

Then there's the command to get those clamps on your nipples you used in a video of yours a long time ago, the ones connected to each other by a chain, and to tighten them then pull hard enough for them to come off. You have to take a few deep breaths to summon the ability to do it, and even then, it takes a few tugs to get them to come off. By the time they do, your nipples are swollen and red and your eyes are watery from the sting, but nonetheless, a message comes through within a minute of sending the video.

>You didn't tighten them all the way first.

>Do it over.

Or the one to deep throat that one huge toy you have, the one you used in this one video a long time ago — which you now regret ever posting, since there's a reason that you never used that monstrosity again, much less in your throat. At first you're not even sure you can fit it into your mouth, but you force it somehow.

On and on the demands come. He's not paying for any of it, of course, but the premise is the same.

Still, it's not enough. Come on, you didn't even get it very far in, you have to at least get half down your throat. And you didn't hold the phone close enough, can't hear your gagging choking sounds.

>Do it again.

The timing is often terrible, shortly before or after your classes, or odd hours of the night, forcing you to stop whatever you're doing to meet the demand. Thankfully, though, at least you've never gotten a message from him during your meetups with your class partner — you're certain your distress would show on your face, and it would be hard to come up with an excuse for it.

It becomes such routine, and all happens so quickly, it feels surreal, like you're just forced to accept it and go with it. There’s no time to really process it, as you have to get back to doing your school work and going to class and trying to keep up with your regular video content, it's all so overwhelming, yet so simple, you just have to do what you have to do.

One moment you're slapping yourself in the face while you bounce up and down on a toy so long that it bruises your insides for some jerk that's blackmailing you, and running to class the next, desperately trying to rub at the marks on your face to make them go away.

You're worried that the stress is beginning to show. Your most recent quiz scores are lower than usual, you're getting less sleep. Your insides are always sore. You're paranoid and uneasy, and you know it has to be somewhat evident.

Some of the individual demands have lasting consequences, too. Once you were commanded to choke yourself with a belt on camera, specifically until it left bruises… which you begged and protested against because you had one of your class partner meet-ups scheduled for later the same day, but your tormentor said he didn't care and insisted, so you did it, forcing yourself to go through it… and sending an additional picture at the end just to show the purplish marks in detail, up close.

It wasn't the end of the world for your meeting though — the weather wasn't right for it, but you found something that covered your neck up, at least, so the bruises didn't show. That much, at least, allows you to be at ease… although your classmate seems to be in a particularly bad mood that day.

On another occasion, you find yourself laying on your side, gasping and wincing trying to force one of the larger toys you have into your ass, all the way to the base as instructed, toes curling as you pump it back and forth, in and out… only to be told you weren't supposed to touch yourself while you did it, so, predictably, you have to do it again, the ring of muscle clenching down as it's stretched — and, of course, the act leaves a remnant sensation lasting the rest of the day. You have to rush it too, or you'll be late, due to the horrible timing of the command.

You manage to get to class, but when you move to sit, an ache of pain runs up your spine from your poor abused hole, and you wince, face grimacing at the pain.

It doesn't go unnoticed. The guy next to you, ever observant to everything except the professor, casts a lazy glance over to you, looks you up and down before asking what’s the matter, albeit in a half-caring, bored tone of voice…

You give the oh, nothing, I'm fine! response, stammer out something about hurting your leg yesterday, and he merely gives you an 'ah' of acknowledgement before turning his gaze back down… he rests his chin against his hand so that his mouth is covered up, but you swear, you can detect a slight grin from the shape of his eyes. You suppose it checks out that he'd find your clumsiness amusing, even if it's a lie.

On and on it goes. All the time. Day in, day out. It starts off as once per day, but then your tormentor starts piling smaller requests on top of those. Even beyond the daily video, you get increasingly frequent messages at all times of the day — to take a picture of your tits or ass, or a short video of you fingering yourself, or some sort of angle or pose of your body, writing something on your skin, so on and so on.

He doesn't accept any delays, either. You only get a few minutes to fulfill a demand before getting an impatient follow-up asking what the hold up is. Sleep isn't an excuse either, so you're told, so you have to start turning your phone on loud at night to wake you if need be.

You sense a growing impatience. The frequency increases still, as does the intensity of the content you're forced to make. It's as if it's building up to something — surely it has to reach a limit, or he has to get bored, or he'll ditch you and find a new outlet for his sadistic thrills, you hope. You just hope it ends in a way that's positive for you… but you're afraid of the opposite. What if even after all this, he just ruins your life anyway? It's a very real possibility, one you begin considering increasingly as you think over the whole situation.

The increasing severity and number of demands makes you feel like he's getting more upset, as if you're doing something that makes him mad, even though you have no idea what that could be.

You are right, though.

He's also noticed how much more frequently he gets the urge to demand something from you. How much more the itch has grown, the compulsive need to see you hurting and degrading yourself more and more. You've long since passed the point where he has more videos and photos of you all to himself than those available online — he's been counting — but it's still not enough.

And with the realizations that he's engaging with you more, he realizes that he's also thinking about you more.

No, “more” isn't quite accurate. All the time. Constantly. You never leave his head, everything else feels like a distraction.

And that's only more infuriating. He's very self-aware, realizes it's getting worse, realizes you essentially occupy his thoughts every waking second.

Even then, the distractions aren't working. At one point he realized he literally cannot stop himself from messaging you, it's a compulsion, a need, and the realization of his own lack of self-control regarding it is maddening. He actively tried, told himself to wait until the next day, but just couldn't. Even if he plays games or watches whatever brain-rotting media he tries to consume, his thoughts keep drifting to you. Hell, ever since latching onto you, he’s stopped harassing other random women online in general, and that was pretty much one of his biggest hobbies in the past.

What gives you the right? To get inside his head like that? Make him constantly distracted and wondering about what you're doing, forcing him to keep tabs on you? What makes you think you can just come into his life and control him like this, and think you'll get away with it? You've more or less taken advantage of an innocent person who did nothing wrong to you. Used your body to exploit his weaknesses and manipulate him into doing all this.

You don't get to do that. You have to be held accountable.

You're constantly making him worry about you, what you're doing, who you're talking to, and not knowing is a maddening feeling. It feels like nausea, a sick feeling that completely consumes the mind, rendering it incapable of doing or focusing on anything else, only cycling the same obsessive rage and worry and paranoia until it becomes unbearable.

But there's a way to get rid of that, and give you what you deserve, and get what you owe him all at the same time.

He waits, only another week or so — a frustrating week, but spent planning ahead and gathering necessary stuff — but finally, given the timing, you send a text he was hoping you'd send asking about meeting up again, to finish up the project as the end of the semester approaches.

You're a bit caught off-guard by the message, not to mention how quickly he replies.

>Come over here.

You hesitate, re-reading to try and ensure that you're understanding correctly, and finally ask for clarification that he means to his place.

He says yes. Something about how he's supposed to have something delivered that he'll have to sign, and so he has to be at the apartment when that happens, so, y'know, best for you to come over.

Which is nice.

It's just… odd.

Inviting you over, even if for a required activity, feels very out of line with the person you've come to know, however surface-level said knowing may be. Then again, maybe this is the guy's way of trying to be nice. Everyone expresses appreciation differently.

You're still thinking on it when he adds another text saying that his roommate will be there, preemptively apologizes for any disturbance that will cause… well, you figure if someone else is there, it can’t be anything sinister. That helps you make up your mind, so you agree. At this point, you know each other well enough to warrant trust.

…It’s still pretty awkward, though. The apartment is about like a picture you would expect to see uploaded to the internet as a joke about male living spaces. Borderline barren, barring the computer and the bare minimum furniture and appliances needed to survive, plus some clothes and empty cans and such strewn in various places across the floor, all dark lighting and void of color.

That being said, you quickly realize the apartment is only a studio, and there’s only one bed. The roommate doesn't exist.

And something just feels wrong, in a way you can’t articulate. Like your instincts are urging you to leave. You feel uneasy. Goosebumps spread across your skin. Are you just being paranoid…?

There is something else, though, that immediately catches your attention. You notice that the wall isn’t exposed, rather, most of the room is covered with a layer of some sort of paneling, lining the wall almost as thoroughly as wallpaper. You inquire what it is.

Soundproofing.

An unpleasant answer, but he wouldn’t be so upfront about it unless it was for harmless reasons. You refrain from inquiring about the other odd things you start to notice — locks on some cabinets despite seemingly living alone, a roll of tape sitting on the desk with no discernable purpose.

As awkward as the tension is, you really have no option but to sit on the bed, as its the only surface other than the floor. You try not to contemplate how often the average college-aged boy washes bedsheets.

It occurs to you, though, that right now would be the worst possible timing for a message from your unknown harasser, and you certainly can’t take any photos or videos here… thus, just as you sit down and begin to work, you pick up your phone from where you set yours next to his, and type out a quick message, basically pleading with the unknown man to leave you along for the next few hours, because, as you explain, you literally can’t do anything for the time being.

You read it over, and hit send.

And before you can even put the phone back down, there's a vibration a mere arms-length away from you, as the other phone in the room lights up.

And there, in the notification that pops up on the screen, are the very words you just sent.

…

…

There's a few seconds where nothing happens.

Both your heads naturally turn to the sound the moment it happens, but after that, it's just… still. You’re frozen still, he’s frozen still. Both your eyes go wide, and the quiet seconds pass, processing the information before you.

And then, he sighs, body relaxing, reaching up to pinch the bridge of his nose, muttering as if met with some major inconvenience.

God, why do you have to make this more difficult.

Besides, he already turned the lock that locks you in from the inside, even though you probably weren’t aware of what it was, so you’re already trapped anyway. And you squeal, of course, predictably, but that’s what the soundproof panels are for.

He's not particularly worried like he would have been any other time — this was the plan now anyway, but you're throwing things off schedule. Yet another transgression to hold you accountable for.

You do try to run. You at least deserve that much credit. He was so close to considering you a genuine marvel of human evolution, with how nonfunctional your survival instincts seemed to be.

But you’re sitting with your legs folded, so, you don’t have the time required to stand any chance of hopping up and running. The moment your legs start to move to stand, he’s already got you by the arm.

You even seemed to process everything a bit quicker than he would have thought. Maybe you’re not that stupid after all, just… a little less.

You still are incredibly stupid though. He’s almost surprised you agreed to come. So naive, so dumb, so trusting.

And so loud. Squealing like a little animal caught by a predator — which, well, isn’t too far off, but it still hurts his ears.

Shut up, shut up, shut up…

You can hear the growling voice in your ear, even now that he has your face pressed into the mattress, arm latched around your waist. You’re squirming so hard too, but even fighting with all the strength you can summon, it feels like trying to push back a brick wall. He seems to notice as much as you do.

…Is that actually the best you can do?

Not the first time he’s said those words to you — though before, it was over text, mocking you into filling all those perverse desires. It feels far more biting now.

And it’s so, so, so satisfying to see you realize just how dumb you are, as you put everything together. To watch you slowly grasp everything, realize just how badly you’ve fucked up. He even flips you onto your back just to see your face go through all the stages of emotion. It’s hilarious, and adorable too. The confusion and betrayal and panic and anger.

Oh, you get so mad. It’s actually the best part. You’re practically snarling now, reaching up to try and claw at him, kicking, baring your teeth. Any traces of the sweet demeanor you once held is long gone as you lash out… and then, a purely and entirely euphoric transition to fear.

Aw. Poor thing. After you struggle so much, your breathing gets faster, the fury dissipates as your eyes well with tears. The demands to let you go turn to miserable little pleas.

Maybe you can go back and forth. Maybe if he taunts you again you’ll get angry once more, and then if he slaps you you’ll get meek and fearful again? That would be nice, to have reliable ways to switch your emotions around, as if controlling them with a button. There will be plenty of time to find out later.

But now he gets the opportunity to finally tell you how long you made him wait for this. Mocks you for how naive you were. Brings up specifics from all those videos you sent him. Did you think it would just be left at that? Did you really not realize it wouldn’t be enough? No, of course you didn’t, and that’s why you ended up coming here like the dumb little slut you are.

And look, you even wore something so easy to flip up, practically easy access. You just have no shame at all, do you. See, it goes in perfectly because you’ve been using those toys for those videos, and… ah, so that’s— that’s what it feels like… holy shit… this is what you basically robbed him of all this time? Now you’ll really have to suffer to make up for it…

Well, you wouldn’t get it. It’s about what you did subconsciously, mind games and all that. His torment was intentional on your end, and that’s what matters. Now you'll get to spend a very very long time atoning for it. You should be happy. You won't even have to worry about making money anymore.

This wouldn’t be happening to you if you didn’t do what you did to him, you know. It’s your fault. He tells you so. And when you look up at him, eyes welled with tears, stammering out a question of what he means—

What did I ever d-do to you…?

—he realizes that it’s… difficult to give that question a concrete answer.

What did you do, really...?

The only problem that remains is how you rushed things. He was at least going to wait until you finished the project, but now it’s incomplete… do professors grant extensions if your partner goes missing…?

[domxmarvel]

Twisted wonderland-Card writing challenge-round 2

Masterlist 

Riddle

Riddle’s birthday was going smoothly so far,you were standing to the side when Carter walked up to you.

“Y/N,could I ask you for a favor?”

“What do you need?” He handed you his phone.

“I've been trying to get a good photo of Riddle,but he never smiles genuinely” He was right,you looked up at him signaling for him to continue. “He smiles whenever he's with you,so do your thing so I can get at least one good photo. That doesn't look like I forced him to smile” 

“Fine I'll help,be ready” You handed the phone back to him. You sat down on the arm of his chair,putting your arm around his shoulder. “Having fun?” 

“I am,thanks”

“Why are you thanking me?”

“Because I'm assuming you and Trey did most of the work,and I've already thanked him” He was smiling at you,like you were the only person here. There was a flash of light and he immediately looked over to Carter.

“Got it” 

Malleus

Sitting there Malleus looked every bit the dangerous and cruel fae,that you knew he wasn't. It made you wonder if he would still be like that once he was king,would he change? Would he turn into the cruel fae you were told stories about? 

“Y/N” Lilia nudged your shoulder,making you turn to look at him. “He's called your name like three times already”

“oh,sorry”

“Darling, are you feeling alright?” Before you could say anything else,he added “Perhaps you should sit down,come here” You took a few steps towards him,he leaned in and pulled you down to sit on his lap. 

“Malleus,I shouldn't be”

“it's fine,I want you here”

Lilia

When you opened your eyes you didn't recognize the room,you tried to move only to find your hands had been tied behind your back. Frantically you looked around,the door opened letting a blinding ray of light. 

“Finally you're awake”

“Who are you? Where am I?” 

“Those questions will get you nowhere,because they don't matter. You're here for one reason,you're going to help me take down your general”

“You'll never defeat him”

“I don't have to fight him,once he finds out I have you he’ll beg on his knees for your return” You knew he was wrong,once lilia found out all hell would break loose. He wouldn't stop until you were back with him. 

“You’re wrong,once he finds out where I am. You’ll be the one begging him for mercy” As if on cue there was a crash followed by a guard rushing in.

“What’s going on?”

“He’s here,he’s found us and-” Before he could say anything else the door was kicked open,Lilia walked in,his anger clear on his face.

“Lilia” His eyes shifted to you for a brief moment before he fought them off. Once they were both on the ground he rushed over to untie you,pulling you into a tight embrace.

“Y/N,I’m sorry it took me so long”

Jade

It was the end of the night and you were sitting down for a slice of cake with Jade and Floyd,you enjoyed seeing them happy. Which led to you just staring at Jade a few times.

“Something wrong?”

“Nothing,just-”

“Too slow” Floyd leaned over taking the strawberry off of Jade’s slice,laughing as he ate it. Jade didn’t seem bothered at all,but you still picked up your strawberry and held it up to him.

“Here” He opened his mouth,letting you feed him. He handed you the rest of his slice and at first you were confused but you quickly figured out what he wanted. You feed him piece by piece.

“Happy birthday” He smirked at you before leaning over to kiss you.

Floyd

“What happened to you?” He was still smiling despite being covered in what looked like paint. He laughed at your question.

“I messed up during potions class” 

“You’re not hurt are you?”

“No” He smirked “Shrimpy,were you worried about me?” You rolled your eyes at him.

“You should get cleaned up” You turned back to your room,a second later you felt something hit your back. Reached to touch it,you realize it as the same paint that covered Floyd. “Floyd!” You turned and tackled him,you pinned him down which was easier than you thought.  He looked up at you and noticed that his face had turned red. You quickly got up and turned your back to him again. “Get cleaned up” You tried to leave but he quickly pulled you back to him,picking you up bridal style. 

“You need to get cleaned up too”

“We don’t have to shower at the same time,put me down”

“No,I’ll get lonely without you”

Leona

“Where are you taking me exactly?” You asked,he handed you your camera before opening the door for you.

“It’s a surprise,just get in '' Ever since you joined him for this visit he seemed more energized and he was more clingy. He had already taken you around the city,showing you various places but this time it seemed you were going outside of town. The Sunset savanna was beautiful, it was like a movie and you managed to tear your eyes away long enough to take photos. The wind through your hair and the music blaring made it feel like a dream. You turned to look at Leona,who had one hand on the wheel while the other brushed through his hair. He looked happier than you had seen him since you got here,because despite him being more energetic and clingy you also felt that he was sad,he tried to hide it but you knew him well enough to be able to see through it. Now he looked genuinely happy and carefree in this moment,it was a moment and a smile you wanted to keep forever. Lifting up your camera you took a photo, “I thought you wanted photos of my home land not me” He laughed but it made you sad,had no one ever taken a photo of him?

“Leona,when’s the last time someone took a photo of you?” He thought about it for a while,which made it clear no one had in a long time. “What about your portrait then?”

“My portrait?” He seemed surprised that the thought even crossed your mind. “I don’t have one” He paused,before quickly adding “Well I was in one but it was my fathers portrait,but I was really young at the time”

“So no one’s taken photos of you and you don’t have a portrait?” He raised an eyebrow.

“I don’t get the big deal,why do you care so much if I have pictures of myself? I know what I look like and I can always look in a mirror” 

“Because you deserve to have them,you should have a portrait and photos. You’re beautiful and you need to be reminded of that,I love taking photos of you because it means I get to keep that moment and that smile with me”

“Maybe I should get that portrait,just don’t expect me to smile during it” You both laughed “Y/N”

“Yes?”

“Thanks”

Jack

“Hey have you figured out your costume?”

“I have,Leona and Ruggie are dressing up with me”

“Is it anything I can coordinate with?” You asked,he thought for a moment before smirking. 

"Actually there is”

***

“I love you,but don’t you think this too much?” You liked the costume,but it felt weird being dressed like this. 

“Why are you cold?” 

“No,I just feel weird dressed like this”

“Well I think you look beautiful,and I’m about to steal you away from this lame party” Before you could say anything else,he picked you up and threw you over his shoulder. 

“Jack”

“It’s captain”

Vil

“You ready? Roi du Poison will be thrilled to see you in uniform”

“How do I look?” You looked in the mirror,it was strange seeing yourself in the Pomefiore uniform. 

“Perfect,let’s go” Rook was only too happy to help you with this surprise. He told you where to go so you could go by yourself while he led Vil there,tricking him into thinking there was a new student he had to meet. You walked up to him,head down so he couldn't see you.

“So you’re the new student,lift your head and face me properly” He used his housewarden voice,his tone strict making it clear he wouldn't accept mistakes. You heard him mumble something about your posture before he saw your face. “Y/N” He rushed over to stand in front of you. “You’re beautiful” Looking you up and down,a faint blush across his cheeks. “Have you ever thought about joining Pomefiore?”

“No,but I could be persuaded”

Rook

“Rook?” There was a knock at your door and when you answered it,there was a note along with a flashlight. Now you were wandering around Pomefiore in the dark,with only a flashlight. The only other light being the candles scattered around. The whole dorm was empty of students and part of you was starting to think Rook was just messing with you. “Rook?” A light drew your attention to one of the rooms,the curtains had been pulled back to let in the moonlight. Looking slightly lower you saw a coffin,and a sound drew your attention to it. Cautiously you approached. “Rook I swear if you scare me,I’ll never forgive you” 

“Why would I do that?” He moved to sit up in the coffin,but not completely he was still laying all his weight on it. Your eyes immediately went to his fangs,he jumped out in one swift motion and walked up to you. “You like them?”

“Why do they look so real?”

“Magic” He answered briefly,smirking as he moved even closer pushing you against the door. “Do you want to feel them?” Rook’s presence was just intoxicating and you pulled him closer to you.

“Yes” 

Idia

“Can we leave now?”

“We’ve been here for less than five minutes?” He tried giving you his puppy eyes but you quickly looked away.  “We need to stay a bit longer,just stay next to me” You reached your hand out for him to take. His grip got tighter when anyone would approach you,hiding behind you slightly. He let go for a moment to text someone before taking your hand again. “Everything okay?” He just nodded,not telling you anything else. Fifteen minutes later you turned back to him. “We can leave now if you want” His eyes lit up before he started leading you to the door. You did notice he was leading you the opposite way but you still followed.

Next thing you knew you were sitting in a boat with him,he was blushing furiously, his hair was pink and he couldn’t face you. He glanced at you quickly before looking away again,you relaxed and leaned on him,shoulder to shoulder. His hand slowly moved to your waist,you could feel him shaking. Wrapping an arm around him,you pulled him closer. He finally looked at you fully,and you took the opportunity to kiss him.

“We should do this more”

“The boat ride or the kiss?” You kissed him again.

“Both”

***

I'll be doing a third and final round,so as a one time bonus I'll be adding two extra characters. The top 2 character are the one's I'll be writing for. And if you have any suggestions for any of the characters,feel free to send them my way.

[reveluving]

Can you do one where Batmom loves doing ballet? Maybe with her in the ballroom dancing, and the kids come in. Cassandra immediately goes to join her and the boys want to try so batmom and cass try to teach them? And then at the end Bruce sneaks in and watches then fondly?

P.S. I love your work :)

a/n: to whomever sent this request last year (+ a couple of others), I am so sorry for only doing this now lol BUT! y'all know I love a fluffy batfam moment! 💗💗💗 changed it up a bit and also, thank you so much!!

warnings: fluffy fluff! (ballerina!cass !!!)

check out my batmom m.list !

Cass is an expert of many things, but your absolute favourite has to be her love for ballet!

It was no surprise how much she's incorporated her ballet knowledge into her fighting style—not to the point where anyone could see the similarities between Cass and Orphan, but just enough to give her certain advantages that the rest didn't have.

The first time Cass gave you the invitation to her recital was when she stopped by the café as usual one fine afternoon.

You had expected a form for a trip that needed your permission but no, it was so. much. better.

Not only was Cass' name handwritten in gold ink, but she was going solo for that matter?

You immediately tackled her into the biggest, most bone-crushing hug you could muster. Nothing Cass couldn't handle, though, in fact, she reciprocated your own happiness, grinning and giggling as you wouldn't stop gushing about how proud you were and how you needed to call Bruce, even if it was still office hours.

And you did just that!

Bruce thankfully didn't have any pressing matter when you rang him up, picking up the phone in one hand and idly checking some reports with the other. He stopped caring for the papers in hand though, not when he could hear how excited you sounded.

"We're invited to Cass' first recital next month!" You squealed, the soft of giggles of your not-so-little girl didn't go amiss on the line, "You have to clear your schedule."

Bruce grinned, both at the news and your sudden seriousness. You didn't have to tell him and you knew it, for he immediately wrote the date on a piece of paper to be passed to his assistant later on.

Cass also took the opportunity to share the news with the rest of the family, with all of their congrats and compliments ranging from Alfred and Damian's detailed praises for her appreciation in such fine art, to Dick's chaotic but meaningful cheers in all caps lock, with a side of triple fire emojis.

All in all, it was almost overwhelming for her—no matter how subtle Bruce tried to be in moving the old, almost depressing paintings out of the manor's ballroom after learning about her hobby, or how you'd bring over a single chair in the middle of the room to watch her new move without hesitation, or how Alfred made sure the manor's ballroom was always squeaky clean for her own use, she would be in awe of how fate brought her here.

A place where she not only fought for the safety of others, but also a place where she could finally make a name for herself the way she wanted.

Despite your protests, Cass helped you around the café that day, too happy to just sit down when she could channel that energy by lending a hand. You were thankful for the extra pair of hands though, for you wanted nothing more than to celebrate with her at home.

It was only fitting to bring her to the ballroom, the person praising her now was Alfred, who had came in with tea to pair with the extra cookies you brought from the café.

There was really no other way to channel your own joy other than to dance with her—from pirouettes to a grand jeté together. You learned from the best after all, how could you ever say no when she once shyly offered to teach you how to properly plie once upon a time?

With the classical music paired with Alfred's claps and the three of you laughing, it wouldn't take long for the rest of your family, besides Bruce, to investigate as soon as they're home. Some readily came with gifts, others were ready to properly congratulate Cass as texting did little to no justice. But seeing how much fun you were having, they believe it was best to at least wait till the music ended.

But ever the perceptive child, Cass was quick to notice the newcomers and immediately waved at them. They all huddled around her, with Cass growing flustered by the sheer attention she was getting in one day. She did somewhat expect a positive reaction, but not to this extend, but she wouldn't have it any other way.

You and Alfred watched the sight fondly, your smiles growing bigger when one of them had asked her to teach them a thing or two. And just like chain reaction, almost everyone was trying it out. It was hilarious, to say the least, seeing them, ranging from tall, buff, serious and just almost out of place, glancing at one another as they sought the girl's approval for their plie.

"I wasn't aware of a party." You sucked in a breath, the unexpected arrival of your husband taking you by surprise, let alone when his arms wove around your waist and then kissed you on the crown of your head. You leaned into him, caressing the back of his hand before letting his intertwine his fingers with yours.

"It's only fair," You sighed, not wanting to tear your eyes away from the tooth-rotting moment before you. You felt Bruce's chest vibrate on occasion, no doubt amused to see some making it a competition to see who was best, "Our girl deserves it."

Our girl.

As if on command, Bruce's hand lightly brushed over your tummy. You didn't stop him, only to gasp when he proceeded to tickle you and shared a laugh. You threw your head to the side, giving him the opportunity to nuzzle into your neck and be in your own world just as your children was.

To say Cass was in heaven was an understatement, and though her life started rough, she had always thanked the universe for shining her to the path that actually mattered to her most.

With the people she was meant to be with.

˚ · . f i n . · ˚

[tinydeskwriter]

CINEMA {prologue}

A/n: This is the prologue of my new little series, that I am unsure yet how long it will be, my ideia is of making the ‘chapters’ like blurbs, I am always open to suggestions, you can send a anonymous ask or massage me privately. For this story, I am breaking up Holivia ahead of the beginning of Love on Tour. In my head Y/n faceclaim is Anya Taylor Joy, so I apologize ahead if in any moment I use some of her physical characteristics, I have been obsessed with the idea of Harry and Anya since they are supposed to be in a project together and both dropped out😔

word count:1664

Don’t Call Me Baby

“Hey Love, what’s up?” Harry asked sweetly. 

He had initially thought about ignoring his phone, until he grabbed it to turn it dawn and saw ‘My Love♥️’ on the screen— he never got around to change it after they broke up in 2015, and it wasn’t as if the sentiment had changed, she was still his love—, he untangled himself from Olivia, getting up from the couch and stepping out in the backyard.

Olivia straightened up on the couch, watching Harry walking close by the pool, brows furrowed as he listened to the person on the other end. Of course she knew who it was that her boyfriend was talking to. There was only one other person for whom he reserved all the same nicknames as hers—Y/n. Olivia wasn’t a jealous or insecure woman until she had met the model-turned-actress and watched first hand how Harry and her acted around each other. 

She had came to accept after those first interactions with the younger woman and as her own relationship with Harry deepened, that if there was ever a situation where Y/n and her were in the same place, he would always go to Y/n first—it happened a lot on set when Y/n joined the cast in January as Violet, after the originally chosen actress had to leave the project—.

She got a little jealous from time to time. There was something in the way everyone around assumed Y/n and Harry are a couple, how he took Y/n to the Grammy’s instead of her, or how he took the other’s side after the fiasco that had been her interview to the younger podcast back in June—a interview that was supposed to put down the rumors surrounding Florence and her, but after being put in between a interview with a therapist about cheating and a debate about the fake feminism in Hollywood, fueled the fire of the gossips—. 

“Tell me what is wrong my love, your sobbing is breaking my heart.” Harry’s accent thickened, and worry was written all around his face. 

Olivia pushed herself from the couch, approached the glass door, eyebrows knitted together in curiosity, and as soon as she had asked ‘What’s up’, Harry simply raised his hand to silence her. 

“That bastard…”His expression morphed into one of anger. “Are you home?” He immediately went back inside the house. “Do you need me to come over?”

Olivia only raised her eyebrows to her boyfriend’s back. She already knew it wasn’t a question, Harry would be leaving her for Y/n no matter what, and he probably wouldn’t be back until the next day.

It wasn’t the first time.

Harry cut their couple’s trip to Italy short because Miss Model was suffering with anxiety and panic attacks days before showing the first unfinished cut of her debut feature to the Warner Executives. 

Olivia’s almost dislike for Y/n came from the care her boyfriend showed the girl. They even fought over it. 

Harry just wasn’t the best at communicating, at least with her.

She had no problem with their friendship, except that said friendship always came first, no matter what.

“I am with Liv right now, but I can be at your place in forty minutes.” He said already putting shoes on, his phone between his shoulder and ear. “Fifty-five if I stop by that Italian restaurant to pick up your favorite.”

He stayed silent for a moment, listening to whatever Y/n was saying, a stubborn expression on his handsome face, she knew by the way his eyes quickly went her way that Y/n must have said something about her.

“Love, you never bother, we aren’t doing anything, either way it wouldn’t matter, if you’re not alright, you know I would drop anything.”Harry said too honestly, completely forgetting his girlfriend in earshot. 

Olivia was certain she felt he heart shatter.

Harry only seemed to notice her again after Olivia walked in front of him to get to the bedrooms. 

“Y/n/n, baby, you’re not okay and I won’t leave you by yourself. I’ll just get my keys, we see each other in a bit, but call if you need anything.” He ended the call before she could protest.

He found Olivia in their shared bedroom, his keys in hand. 

“He has been cheating on her…”The man stops in his tracks when he notices his girlfriend going around putting a few of her things in a overnight bag.

“What are you doing?”Harry asks surprised, finally seeming to register that something is of with his girlfriend of almost a year.

“I’am leaving,”She snapped her head at him, emotion visible in her green eyes, “I’ll spend the night with the kids.”

“What’s wrong?” He seemed slightly worried.

“What isn’t?” There was frustration in her words. “You always drop everything for her! It’s always her! Of course no one would believe in our relationship when you act the way you do around her!” The director accused. “I feel like a placeholder, I am here until she wants you again and you go running.”

Olivia was overreacting in his eyes. He didn’t want to leave her for shits and giggles, Y/n was going through a difficult moment, he couldn’t bring himself into leaving her on her own. He had hope that Olivia, as a older and mature woman would understand and not let herself be carried by insecurity.

He felt deja-vu. It was like Camille all over again.

“She just found out she’s been cheated, I can leave her alone at this moment.” Harry tried to explain himself.

“Harry, you’re only here with me after making sure she doesn’t need you first,” Olivia accused him in a calm—if hurt—tone, “she’s your first call after every good news, or when you are sad or in a bad mood. She was your date to the fucking Grammy’s!”

He shook his head.

“You’re not been fair.”

Olivia looked at him, eyes wide open.

“Jeff was right.” She said shaking her head. “He was drunk, probably doesn’t even remember he said it, but he did, Jeffrey said she’s your muse, your first love and the owner of your heart and mind, he then went on: she’s the Sun he orbits around, all the others are stars, what is a mere star when compared to the Sun?” She laughed in disbelief, running a hand through her hair. “Does everybody knows? Was I the only clueless one?”

“You sound crazy.” He said harshly, cursing Jeff in his mind for opening his mouth.

“H, you’re in love with her, can you admit it to yourself?!” Olivia accused him.

“I’m not in love with her!” He said like a bad rehearsed script.

Even to his own ears his words sounded false and without conviction.

“It’s just… We have history, I love her deeply. Seeing her getting hurt, it guts me… it tears me apart. I can’t help it how I feel…”He said truthfully, avoiding his girlfriend’s eyes. 

“Harry, do you even hear yourself?” Olivia asked, sitting by the foot of the bed. “Do you even feel this deep about me?”

He knew what she was asking truly: Do you love me?

And the fact that he had to pause to think in itself was already a horrible answer.

He cared about Olivia, deeply, he felt romantically about her, did the feelings compare? No.

It gutted him the simple notion of not having Y/n in his life in whatever capacity. He needed her smile, and her laugh. Those big eyes that looked at him with love and appreciation, that always made him feel worth of something and less like a fraud. The way her hands stoked his hair on his bad days. Or how she always called him My Love with a ‘smiling voice’.

He knew that he was able to live without Liv in his life, it would hurt a little at first, but Y/n would be there as the antidote.

“It’s different. I love you…”

“But you love her more.” She said sarcastically.

“I never compared.” He denied, running his hand through his hair a nervous way. “Baby…”

Harry felt defeated.

“Don’t call me baby…”

Olivia scoffed, feeling dumb, she should have note it the moment she met Y/n. But she was lost in the feeling of new love, feeling young and… free, as cliche as it may sound.

She remember all the times she felt like she was ‘competing’ with the younger woman. It was never a competition. 

Its impossible to compete with someone that already won without even being in the competition.

Olivia got up, smiling small, she too felt defeated, but she would, if nothing else, be a gracious loser, even if her heart was being shattered on the way. She swung her bag over her shoulder, kissing his face on the way out. 

“You should at least admit it to yourself.” The older women said looking into his eyes. 

She was already waiting for him by the door, security must have warned her of his arrival at the gate, wrapped in a silk kimono, she smiled when he got out of the car.

“I am sorry for the delay.” He said carrying the bags with food from out of the car.

“Thank you for coming, my Love.” She said against his t-shirt, hugging his middle.

He grabbed her face with both hands, making her look up to him.

“Nothing would keep me from being with you when you need me, Baby.”

She smiled, and just like that, everything was good again for him. 

Y/n stretched out on her tiptoes, giving him a peck on the lips. A act of greeting so customary between them, but that this time made his heart race in his chest.

Olivia’s words fresh in his mind, mixing with the accusations screamed at him by Camille years before.

“Let’s go in, it’s a little chill outside.” She hold his free hand in hers. “Are you staying the night?” Y/n ask looking up to him.

“For as long as you need me.” Harry smiles back. 

Next Part

Taglist: @slutforcoffein ; @lilsiz

[willowser]

okay haven't stopped thinking about this since the self-ship game but. on-again-off-again with touya is so heart-breaking.

he's always had his own shitty one-bedroom, but he stayed with you more often than not. claimed it was because you were closer to his job at the bar, but the drive is similar if not a smidge closer. you don't personally think it's worth it, but he does. or did, once.

you're looking at the two boxes of his things that are sitting by the door: a near-drawer full of clothes, bags of random jewelry, two pairs of his shoes, the dish towels he keeps "accidentally" stealing from work, as well as a few of their nicer glasses. photos you don't want to look at. even his shampoo and body-wash is packed away, because you can't stand to smell it anymore.

that's when your phone rings.

it's much too late for you to be awake, but you are, and the number coming across your screen isn't necessarily touya's but it is the number for the bar, so you hesitate in answering. watching and waiting, as it rings in your hand, before deciding to indulge in whatever heart-break he's got ready for you tonight.

—but it's keigo: "hey, i need you to come pick up touya."

you frown at that, and then deeper at the noise in the background. "what? where's his car?"

"he—" a heavy sigh scratches over the line, and his voice is strained, like he's struggling to hold something heavy in his arms. he's always been very friendly, charming; you've never heard him so stressed. "he can't drive. i just need you to come get him."

worry is a weighted stone in your stomach. "what do you mean he can't drive?"

touya's been sober for 16 months, something he's admittedly been very proud of. his longest stint yet, he'll tell you, and he's gone through hell not to break the streak. no matter how hard it was, no matter how tempting giving in sounded. he's turned back into his addictions in the past when you two have split, but you had faith in him this time. you really, really did.

"he just can't, alright? please?"

of course you go. and when you pull up in the parking lot, they're both standing outside, keigo with a half-empty bottle of water in his hands and a frown marring his pretty face. touya's back is to you, and he would almost look normal, if not for the swaying. you don't realize how bad it is until takami is throwing touya's arm over his shoulder and near dragging him across the pavement.

you only watch on, heart heavy, as he's shuffled into your car like a child, mumbling to himself as keigo buckles his searbelt. the car is immediately flooded with the sharp, bitter smell of alcohol and too many cigarettes, and you knew what the truth was, you knew, but you'd hoped for another answer, some bullshit excuse as to why he couldn't drive.

the reality burns; behind your eyes, deep in your nose, the back of your throat.

"call me tomorrow," keigo tells him, too-serious. "and we can figure out your car and stuff." he huffs at the ghost of a smile on touya's pale face, before looking across the seats to you. "i'm sorry, i really am, but his sister would fucking flip if i called her."

"no," touya mumbles again, voice scratchy like he's been yelling. "why the fuck would you call my sister, you perv?"

keigo only shakes his head before sighing again, and then he's leaning back and closing the car door without another word. you've never seen him so—annoyed; you can only imagine what touya's been up to tonight, to make him so.

alone, neither of you say anything, for a while. that haunting smile is still playing on his lips, as his head lolls back and forth with every speed bump you crawl over, and occasionally you can feel him watching you from across the console.

there are—one-thousand and one things you could say, but he wouldn't remember a single one. and so you don't bother.

he does, though, eventually, grin blooming in full. "know you fuckin' miss me."

you shake your head in an attempt to get rid of the tears, swallowing the frog sitting in your throat. he won't remember this. he won't. "of course i miss you, touya."

he laughs once, a small, airy sound, before he's turning to look out the window. your honesty has always caught him off guard. "yeah," he murmurs, smile drooping as reality burns him, in return. "miss you, too."

[sgiandubh]

With friends like this...

I usually wouldn't pay attention to what a very contrived, very minor troll player writes.

But this, this made me immediately howl. Legit:

Answering an Anon she probably wrote herself (not that it matters), this person summons the Gods of Critical Thinking. In doing so, she manages some stupendous gobbledygook.

I understand C's resounding silence forces you to pretzel your three collective neurons until there is no tomorrow. However, policing the fandom is no easy task, plus I am sure that you are not on a retainer (unlike others) and/or whatsoever qualified to act as Her Taciturn Majesty's spokeswoman.

Face it: she doesn't need you and, based on what we know, she is perfectly able to speak for herself. That's harsh, I know - but real.

Let me see if I understood correctly, madam. You basically say this, in plain English:

If the Queen of Kale doesn't post, that doesn't mean she can't thank people in person or by private email 'and/or via handwritten note'.

Excuse me, what? 'Handwritten note'? Where the fuck are we, the Kingdom of Syldavia?

🤣🤣🤣

Hey, BIF, let me guess: Tish Baldridge and 1962 called and you, being bored and home alone, picked up the phone, right?

Right?

Undeterred, you add: 'maybe she shared with her sponsors and hosts the reason for this choice ' (remember, LOL: being unexplainably, ahem, forgetful) and 'they understand'.

Lady, this is PR 101: if you promote something I graciously entrusted you with, I want the bang for my buck. This is not a 'the dog ate my homework' kind of situation, here. This is quid pro quo, as far as sponsors and sponsoring go.

Remember (LOL) : sponsors are not your ('understanding') friends. Sponsors are people with whom you did sign a contract, a legally binding document that spells out your mutual rights and obligations. Such as, for example, to post something on your socials every time you appear at an event hosted by the designer/creator, you name it.

And this is precisely how I knew no such thing happened, at the London Fashion Week. She was under no legal obligation to post anything. Sure, it would have been nice and polite towards those kind people inviting. But that's not the point, here and this is exactly why you went berserk. The point is it would have been normal interaction with this fandom and excuse me, but it's her prerogative not to do so. I don't remember having signed any legal document together, Mrs. B and I. She doesn't owe me anything. The only thing she owes herself, in this situation, is to make sure her image is properly taken care of.

Congratulations, madam: while babbling pointlessly about sponsors and handwritten notes, you've just (#inadvertently) thrown your Goddess under the bus.

A bon entendeur...

[casualsnickers]

Month of Emmet Quick Write #7

Prompt #7: Voice

Something is afoot in the tunnels again- in the exact same spot where Ingo went missing long ago. This time, Emmet is certain that he's going to set the record straight once and for all, knowing that his brother is safe in the office where others can see him. But then, Ingo still doesn't remember exactly who (or what) got him in the first place.

Read the whole thing below the cut.

Emmet shivered, drawing his coat tighter around him as he continued down the empty subway tunnel alone, the light of his flashlight making the shadows of the tunnel tower over him like goliaths. Behind him, Volcarona, Eelektross and Galvantula kept their eyes on the passage, Galvantula keeping at least one sticky thread attached to her trainer at all times.

               A nightmare situation. Something was once again amiss in the tunnels. The cameras had picked up video feed of some shadowy creature lurking deep underneath the A-Line. Emmet swallowed, biting back his fear while trying his best to replace it with anger. The A-Line was the exact same tunnel Ingo had disappeared in a year prior without a trace. And more importantly, the shadowy creature that the cameras had picked up on was the exact same phenomenon that the cameras had seen back when Ingo had disappeared as well.

“I will go-“

“Don’t even think about it.” Emmet had donned a visibility vest and had grabbed for his toolbelt and  flashlight before Ingo could even continue the thought, his hands shaking as he strode over to the door. “Ramses! Jackie! Keep an eye on Ingo, please!”

“Emmet- “

“Will do, Boss Emmet.” Ramses nodded, Cameron coming around the corner to stop Ingo from pursuing, his face pale. Ramses had been the one to catch the video footage of Ingo disappearing and Cameron had been the one directing the servicing cab that Ingo had disappeared on. Both knew exactly why Emmet had thrown himself headfirst into figuring out what was amiss in the depths.

               And as Emmet stepped forward, water splashing against the edge of his trousers, he kept his eyes out for any overly large shadows. Unlike Ingo, Emmet had attached a body camera to his jacket in the case that whatever took his brother had come back another time. This time, Emmet swore, I will resurface like Ingo didn’t. I will find out what is going on down here and I will return back to the station. Emmet could only just barely keep the thought truly terrifying him at bay: the fact that after being back in Unova for nearly a year, Ingo still didn’t remember what kidnapped him. He shook his head. I will figure out what you are and I will make sure you pay for taking my brother from me.

               His Xtransceiver began to fizz with loud static, shocking Emmet out of his stupor.

“Emmet, pick up immediately. This is Ingo.”

               Emmet took a deep breath, a wind of relief settling over him as he heard his brother’s voice loud and clear. This isn’t like back then, he reassured himself. I will be fine. I just need to focus. “I am Emmet. What’s the matter? And why are you calling me on your personal phone?”

“Emmet, you are approaching the second set of emergency doors, correct? I need you to perform a quick safety check,” Ingo responded, the static still prevalent in the background. “Tell me. Is the passage behind you still visible?”

               Emmet blinked. That is an odd request. Behind him, all three of his pokémon remained quiet. Nothing was amiss. Or at least, Emmet assumed that they all heard and felt nothing. “That is… an odd question, Ingo. Aren’t you currently viewing the cameras?”

“I am,” Ingo asserted. “I know this is an odd request but I need you specifically to look back at the passage you just came from.”

“Why? What do you see?”

Ingo’s voice didn’t change in tone but a hint of frustration made itself apparent in the long sigh that came before his brother’s next words. The tone now was a command. Ingo rarely ever tried commanding Emmet to do anything in such a serious tone. “Emmet. Look behind you.”

               Sensing that something was greatly amiss, Emmet reached for the last pokéball on his belt, Chandelure erupting into the tunnel with her violet flames blazing. She paused, her golden eyes shimmering. Chandelure tilted her head and slowly lowered herself to the ground, curling one of her metal arms around Emmet’s torso and lifting him into the air.

“Chandelure?” Emmet breathed. “What’s the matter?”

“…Chaaan? Alure?” The ghost-type spun and looked right behind Emmet, her eyes narrowing before quickly dropping Emmet like a wet rag, casting some type of move on whatever was right behind him. Her flames flared to life, agitation clear in the way she barged past him. Emmet paused. He had never seen Chandelure use-

“…Did you just use Destiny Bond?”

“Emmet. This is Ingo. Do you copy? Over,” fizzed the small radio on Emmet’s hip, Ingo rasping voice echoing throughout the tunnel. This time, Ingo’s voice was fraught with concern and confusion, the sounds of the PA at Gear Station even managing to cut through.

               Emmet paused. Why is he just now attempting to contact me through the station radio? Nevertheless, he picked up. “Ingo, this is Emmet. Hear you loud and clear. Is this a prank? You did not say what was behind me and Chandelure is acting strangely. Did you teach her Destiny Bond? What are you trying to get me to look at? Over.”

“Emmet, this is Ingo. Behind you? Destiny bond? What are you talking about? I haven’t radioed you at all, Emmet. This is the first time I have radioed you since you entered the tunnels. Over.”

               Emmet’s heart plummeted into his gut. “…Ingo, this is Emmet. Send your Alakazam to me immediately. Please contact the Pokémon Ranger Station located in lower Nimbasa. Over.”

“Emmet, what’s going on- “

“Thank you. Bye-bye.” Emmet turned off his radio and shoved it deep into his jacket pocket. He was about to do the same to his Xtransceiver when said electronic fizzled back to life again.

“Emmet, this is Ingo,” Ingo’s voice crackled from the speaker, Emmet noticing with horror that his brother’s voice was slightly distorted and more youthful. Almost as if whoever was on the other side of the phone was mimicking how Ingo used to sound. Before he was taken. As if having heard it themselves. “Please return back to the tunnels. You have not finished your investigation of the tunnels.”

               Definitely a ghost-type. Emmet tried to turn off his Xtransceiver. Didn’t work. Emmet held down the power button to force the device to go dark. Didn’t work. As Eelektross coiled its great body around him, Emmet blinked. Two pairs of red eyes were glaring at him from the screen, a horrible noise like screeching metal nearly blowing out the speakers.

In that exact same moment, Chandelure returned back to her pokéball in a hurry, Volcarona and Galvantula following suit. The servicing doors were blown open. A cold wind blasted through the tunnels and the air was immediately ripped out of Emmet’s lungs. A horrible pressure settled over him as if he had been dipped into wet concrete. He could feel his own pulse beat frantically in his neck.

At the same time, a fuzzy arm laid itself firmly over Emmet’s shoulder and grabbed him. And in the frame of a second, Emmet was huddling against the wall in his office, hearing his own hoarse breaths loud and clear in the small room as his pokémon reemerged from their pokéballs and swarmed him.

Parlor- Ingo’s Alakazam- calmly floated away, Chandelure following after as Emmet’s remaining pokémon eased him into a nearby chair. And as Emmet was getting the air back into himself, the door to the office swung open, Ingo quick to stride over, grab Emmet, and hoist him into a bone-crushing hug.

“Are you alright?” Ingo all but whispered. “You sounded beyond terrified when you called in for me to send Parlor to you. Whatever is the matter? What did you see? What happened?”

               Emmet shook his head, unable to speak. Whatever took my brother was down there again. That thought rolled around in Emmet’s head like a train with no brakes. A ghost-type. It had to be a ghost-type. Psychic-types can’t interfere with electronic devices. Emmet then remembered the insane amount of pressure that had set upon him the moment whatever had been in the tunnels had decided to follow him into the servicing tunnels. It’s still down there. “…Did you contact the Ranger Station?” Emmet croaked.

“I did. Emmet, what did you see? Chandelure tells me that it was some kind of pokémon, but neither she nor Parlor caught sight of the actual perpetrator. Did you…?”

“Nothing… I saw nothing… Ingo. Are you sure you didn’t call me on my phone?”

“I did not, Emmet. That would be improper work conduct.”

               Ramses dipped into the office, his eyes wide as he took in the scene before him. He then cleared his throat. “Boss Ingo? Boss Emmet? We contacted the ranger station. A team of their guys just got here and they’re ready to get into the tunnels. Waiting for your permission.”

               Ingo took over. “Have them wait down by the main terminal. I will greet them and give them instructions on how to proceed.” Ingo paused. “Please inform them that we suspect a ghost-type pokémon is lurking in the tunnels. Let them know that Gear Station possesses a center-connected PC so that any team reconfiguration needed is possible. That will be all. Thank you, Ramses.”

“Any time, boss.” The man left, leaving Ingo and Emmet alone for just a moment. And then, as though a fire had been lit underneath him, Ramses surged back into the room. “Boss Ingo. Boss Emmet. Hey, just got word from the security room- uh- one of the rangers was let in and I guess they managed to unscrabbled the weird static on the footage with one of their pokémon. They figured out what was down there with you, Boss Emmet.”

 “Who?” Ingo responded dryly.

               Ramses swallowed, beckoning the two of them to follow after him, even his usual stoic face faltering as they crossed the hall heading toward the security room. Emmet could only reach for Ingo’s hand, hoping that whatever they found could be expelled and removed safely from the tunnels. But before leaving, Emmet removed his Xtransceiver and set it face down upon his desk, shaking when he realized that the feed had never cut out and that the red eyes- while gone- had been replaced with a still image of the servicing tunnel doors remaining wide open.

[sensitiveandhungry]

Proud

bang chan x gn!reader

703 words

fluff, established relationship, chris and reader are so whipped

a/n: i wrote this for my beautiful moot, @whatudowhennooneseesyou <3. here you go my ruby, chris would be so proud of u. this was also very helpful to me to get me back into writing, so actually thank u, ruby.

recommended song: Matilda by Harry Styles

It was your graduation ceremony this week. You were so nervous, you had just been working so hard to get to this point. Years of classes, studying, and finals later you had finally finished and could graduate in your chosen college.

Due to life circumstances, you didn’t really have much in the way of family or friends, but you did have your ever-loving, loyal boyfriend, Chris. He had been with you every step of the way throughout your higher education. He was the one who made sure you took care of yourself during finals, tests, and study sessions. He was overall a steadfast source of support whenever you were having a hard time. It was of utmost importance to you that he attended your ceremony with you and that you celebrated together. 

On the day of the ceremony, you oh-so-carefully got ready, making sure everything was perfect. You wanted to feel your most confident as you walked the stage and accepted your degree. Chris was quick to compliment you, spinning you around and pointing out multiple things on your person that he loved. 

Driving in the car to the arena where the graduation was being held, you kept wringing your hands and picking at your nails. Chris picked up on your nervous habit pretty quickly, and laid a cool hand on top of your sweaty ones, giving a gentle squeeze. “It’s okay baby, you’re going to do so great, and it’s going to be a wonderful time.”

Chris dropped you off at the entrance so you could find your place in line within your college, and he went off to hunt for a parking spot. 

After the ceremony opened, it was soon your turn to stand up and get in line to receive your certificates. Your eyes frantically searched the seats of the arena, looking for Chris, and saw him absolutely beaming at you while waving his hands above his head. You gave a very happy wave back, a smile now on your face as well. Once it was your turn to go onto the stage, you were able to confidently walk, shake hands, receive your items, and pose for a picture. The entire encounter only lasted 30 seconds at best, but in those 30 seconds you could see Chris staring at you unabashedly, love and adoration completely apparent in his eyes, even from far away. 

After you went back to your seat and everyone else had gone, the president of each college came up to give their final speeches, and then you were all dismissed. You immediately made eye contact with Chris and began swimming through the crowd, determined to reach your lover as fast as you could. Once you reached Chris at a small clearing, he instantly pulled you in a big hug, rocking you back and forth before picking you up and spinning you in a circle. “You did it baby! I’m so proud of you! You looked amazing up there. All of your hard work has paid off.” Chris then picked up a bouquet that had been set at his feet and gave it to you. “Great job my love.”

You received the bouquet and gave Chris a kiss, making him giggle and turn a light shade of red. Then you managed to get the attention of a nice couple, who were able to take a picture for you and Chris. Once they handed your phone back, you looked at the picture and what you saw brought tears to your eyes. You were absolutely beaming into the camera, clinging onto the bouquet and Chris. Chris, however, also had a massive grin on his face, and was looking right at you. You could see how much he loved you in how he looked at you. You turned to him with your teary face and held his in your palms. “I love you Chris. Thank you so very much for being with me here today. You have no idea how much it means.” “I love you too, babygirl. I will always be here for you, no matter what. I am so, so very proud of you. I mean it. You have done so much to reach this point. Congratulations, my love.”

if you enjoyed this, please consider reblogging and leaving your comments in the tags!

taglist: @bbujiikseu, @alyszaen

[frozenjokes]

A Matter Of Fairness Or Maybe Fear

the next part of the mumbomaid au is four separate mini stories that will be posted as one chapter on ao3, but I thought it might be cool to post them separately here (and since this one’s done, I thought I might post it earlier before the rest goes up on ao3 >:D)

This call marked Scar’s 129th over the course of two days, and quite frankly, his persistence was starting to wear at Etho’s resolve. Maybe ‘resolve’ wasn’t quite the right word actually- patience might be better. This marked the sixth day Etho had been stuck in a little outlet away from home, burying himself in the mud day in and day out, and he was really getting sick of it- sick of Joel, actually, and Scar calling him every free moment of the day was getting quite frustrating when he was waiting on messages from Joel.

Etho let it ring. It wouldn’t stop Scar. Yesterday while sending Joel a very long and very angry message, Etho had accidentally declined Call 4 before the first ring concluded, so Scar knew Etho had his phone. Since then, Etho had also accidentally declined Call 7, 68, 70, and 103.

Call 129 ended and Call 130 began. Call 130 did not end before Bdubs rang at the same time, and that hurt, so Etho submerged himself to avoid it. Soon enough, it too was over. Scar’s insistent calling replaced Bdub’s ringtone without pause.

131. 132. 133.

Finally, it stopped, Scar probably running out of time on his work break. Thank god. Etho had enough on his plate without Scar breathing down his neck, but if he was really being honest, being bitter about Scar’s knowledge on his and Joel’s split souls probably wouldn’t change his behavior today. Scar had a habit of spam calling, and Etho did not know him to give up.

Call 134 just a couple of minutes after the 133rd snapped the last remaining thread of Etho’s patience.

Etho pounced on his phone, picking up with a wrathful hiss, “Stop calling me,” before hanging up. After Call 173, Etho was pretty sure this would never end until he grew a pair and answered the phone. With great disdain, he accepted Scar’s call.

“Hello? Etho? Are you there?”

Etho didn’t respond for a while, too busy fuming to speak. “I’m here.”

“Are you in immediate peril? Do you have time to talk?”

“I have time.” Etho spoke every word through gritted teeth. Scar was quiet for a long moment.

“Then hang the fuck up and call Bdubs you fucking asshole. He’s one more anxiety attack away from filing a missing person’s report, and I’m honestly shocked he hasn’t already! He’s convinced you’re dead in a ditch somewhere or kidnapped or something, and I don’t blame him. If you have your phone and you’re not bleeding out on the fucking rocks, there is literally NO REASON you haven’t called him.”

The wind of Scar’s anger left a heavy silence in its wake. Etho wasn’t quite sure how to break it, but he had a feeling Scar wasn’t going to just let him hang up without another word.

“I can’t call him,” he said instead, all too aware that Scar’s assault of his ears would only continue.

“Give me one good reason why you can’t call your best friend and tell him you’re okay. It’s nearly been a week, Etho, come on. The longest you’ve ever been gone at a time is three days, and you told us beforehand. And I swear to god if you say-“

“Scar, I can’t just call him, I’m not human.”

“You don’t have to fucking video call him!”

“I sound different, Scar. I can’t,” Etho insisted, desperation spilling through in sick waves. Scar didn’t get it. How could he make Scar understand? “What if he asks where I am? What am I supposed to tell him? I can’t call him.”

“You do not sound different! At all!”

“I do.”

“I didn’t notice! It can’t be that bad. Over the phone it won’t even matter- I can not believe you’re fighting me on this. Come on.”

“I can’t, Scar,” a soft whistle broke through behind the words, making Etho feel all the more pathetic. He didn’t want to be here. He’d give anything to be home right now, not worried about being seen or overpowered or caught- he’d give anything to go home, eat normal food- He had work too, he had deadlines! He didn’t want to be in this position at all! Etho didn’t- he didn’t want to upset Bdubs either, of course not, but how was he supposed to explain?

“When are you going to be home then, Etho? Because I need to tell him something. I’m going to tell him- at least that you’re okay. Do you even understand what you’re putting him through right now? Would you really rather let him think you’re in trouble than have a difficult conversation with your best friend?”

“I don’t- I don’t know, Scar. This isn’t my fault- it’s not like I want to be away at all! Please don’t.”

“I’m not mad that you’re not home, Etho. I’m mad because you have a phone to call your roommate with and you’re not using it.”

“He’ll ask questions.” Voicing the thought sounded so much worse, so irredeemably meager. He was being selfish, wasn’t he. Scar was right. But Scar didn’t- Scar didn’t understand the fear- the anxiety- How easy it must be for Scar to stand by the sidelines and tell Etho what was right and wrong. He had no idea.

Scar interrupted his train of self righteous anger before it could build further, “Bdubs has every damn right to ask questions! And even then, he probably won’t. He’d do anything to keep from stepping on your toes on issues like this, even when you treat him like shit. I’m serious. This is fucked. This is cruel. Cleo’s worried sick as well- we’re all worried.” Scar stopped with a huff and Etho heard him mess with his hair over the line, “You know what, this is a waste of time. I’m just going to call him.” Scar hung up without another word, lighting a sharp panic in Etho’s chest. He didn’t want this. He didn’t want this. But he didn’t want an angry Scar telling Bdubs anything about his situation much more.

He fumbled over Bdubs’ contact, pressing several wrong buttons before finally dialing his number. The phone didn’t even pass the first ring.

“Etho? Hello?” Bdubs spoke, drying the words off Etho’s tongue. Not that he had anything to say in the first place. He wasn’t ready. He wasn’t ready for this. His mind seemed to dry up as well, leaving nothing but static in the wake of his panic. “Are you there? Etho?” Bdubs’ voice was faint. Terrified.

Sudden guilt wracked his body, physical in its pain like being caught in the middle of a head-on collision. “I’m here,” his voice shook, but he was hardly aware of it, “I’m sorry. I’m really sorry.���

Bdubs was quiet, the silence crushing, “Are you okay?”

“I’m okay.”

Neither of them spoke, tension thrumming through the air just as clear as audible sound. Etho didn’t think he’d ever be able to breathe again. This was so much worse than he’d ever imagined this conversation going, and he had imagined it.

…

Bdubs sobbed, and all at once Etho crumbled. Mermaids didn’t have the right anatomy to cry, but Bdubs didn’t question the strained noises of distress that bubbled out of Etho’s throat. Bdubs never did question anything, did he? Not to do with Etho’s disappearances. Not for years.

That wasn’t really fair at all, was it.

That wasn’t fair at all.

[see-the-fandom-imagines]

What's in it for me?

Chapter 9

Chapter 1     Masterlist

Pairing: Kyouya Ootori x Reader Author: see-the-fandom-imagines   Warnings: Kyouya in a bad mood, other than that mostly cute fluff, filler Author’s Note: Sorry, this one is rather short, but the next 3 chapters will follow suit, now that I figured out the issue my tumblr account seemed to have had! Tag List: @radical-bunny, @redsakura101​, @ellouisa17​

Link to Ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/46325452/chapters/116633701

You had excused yourself to bed not too long after, even though it wasn’t that late yet, but you couldn’t stop thinking about what Miwako said. “He is taking really good care of you, isn’t he?” You bit your lip, thinking for a while, your fingers searching for your phone in your pocket. No matter what, you should call him and thank him again for the trip. And that he hadn’t told Miwako about the incident. Probably. Just to thank him. That was the only reason you’d call him now. The clock on your phone told you that it was barely past ten, which probably wasn’t too late. And if it was, he didn’t have to pick up. In fact, something told you he wouldn’t, if you remembered how deep he had slept in Okinawa. You dialed the number and listened to the beep. It dialed exactly three times before he picked up. “(Y/n)?” He had saved your number. Well, of course he had. He probably had a million contacts in that phone. “Did something happen?” “Oh”, you found your voice again. “No, no. All fine. I just… wanted to apologize again and… thank you.” “What for?” “Well, for one that you didn’t tell my aunt about what happened.” “Of course. She would have never let you return to our club if I had told her.” “Also, she would have possibly murdered me, and Mori and you trying to help me would have been in vain.” You had said this as a joke, but the other end of the line stayed silent for a while. “I didn’t do anything”, he finally said, words cut short. He almost sounded bitter about it. “No, that’s not true. You called the medic and all. And I never explicitly apologized to you personally.” It was silent again. “So… I am sorry for worrying you, Kyouya.” “I wasn’t worried.” “Well then, I apologize for causing you all that trouble.” You heard him exhale through his nose on the other end of the line. “Apology accepted.” Neither of you knew what to say for a moment, but you did not want to hang up yet either. “So, you were right about Tamaki winning in the end, huh?” “Were you actually doubting me?” “Oh, of course not, I would never.” “Why do I not believe you?” “Because you just got lucky that’s all.” You heard him chuckle. “Lucky?” “So lucky.” You smiled at the phone. It felt really good to be joking around with him like that. You were happy that you had found a friend in the dark-haired boy, even if he would probably never feel the same way about you that you felt about him. You didn’t need him to. As long as he was your friend you could be happy. “I am still wondering where Mori-senpai got that harpoon from, though.” Like this you talked a bit more about the past weekend when you suddenly heard Miwako getting ready for bed and noticed the time. “Oh no”, you whispered, and Kyouya picked up on it, immediately. “All good?” “Yes, yes, I just noticed how late it is. Sorry”, you apologized again. “First, I wake you and now I won’t let you sleep. Again.” You heard him chuckle and it made your heart beat a little faster. “You can make up for it.” Your cheeks flushed hot at these words, but you tried to play it cool. “Aha? How?” “Be creative.” “If I am correct, you still owe me, my dear Kyouya.” “Very well, in that case, I guess I shall forgive you this time.” “Too generous.” “But yes, I should go to bed, too.” “Well, goodnight then, Kyouya.” “Goodnight. And… (y/n)?” You placed the phone back to your ear, you had almost been ready to hang up. “Yes?” “Happy Birthday.” And with these words he hung up the phone, leaving you with the phone on your ear, your mouth slightly agape as you realized he was the third person in your life who had ever remembered your birthday.

[white-poppie]

Baby but Baddass?!

Request: Hello i saw the hxh x reader au soulmates thingy, AND I LUV IT! if you mind can i request a fic where the main 4 killua,gon,kurapika and leorio has a crush on a reader whos really weak? thats all! And its fine if u decline my request

A/N: Thank you! honestly, at first I was about to decline the request because I thought I wouldn't be able to write it, but then I added a little spice to it.

Pairing: Main 4 with Gn! reader

Hunter x Hunter (ハンタ x ハンタ)

Gon

Doesn't really care??

I mean he has grown up on whale island, where no one had nen, so it is not that big of a deal.

He has made it clear multiple times that he loves you no matter what!

He was so proud when he first took you to meet aunt Mito and couldn't stop smiling the entire time (😭🫶)

He thinks you are fully capable of taking care of yourself, he is just a little cautious when he senses someone dangerous when you are with him.

He calls you 'cupcake'

The first time he took you to meet his friends, you were a little worried and scared, but it all worked out and they were really supportive!

Especially Leorio (he finds you relatable.)

Overall, Gon is a very empowering guy and a little baby!

Killua

Hate to break it to you, but unlike Gon, this guy isn't the most validating.

Like how can you not know how to defend yourself?

He thinks you are a pain, but still follows you around like a lost puppy (tsundere smh.)

Thinks that you are incapable of doing any work, just because you are physically weak?

Like boi, not everyone can use nen.

He is doing all his work for you, but with a scowl on his face.

Like: *picks up boxes* "you can't do shit!" *scowling*.

Bro, let me work in peace smh

(You appreciate it though, you know he is a little rude, but doesn't mean it.)

Leorio

He thinks you guys are meant to be.

Except for his medical skills, his nen isn't really- oh well.

Literally cannot stop bragging about you to his friends.

PDA PDA PDA doesn't understand the concept of personal space.

I have already said it in my relationship hcs. He is a doctor, but if you get hurt he will panick™

Eventhough he is pretty weak himself, he is baby-proofing the entire house like a pro

My only question in this is, "who told you, you are stronger?"

Kurapika

💌💞

oh boy, this is gonna be emotional.

Kurapika doesn't doubt your ability to protect yourself, he has just lost so many people in his life, he can't help, but be a little overprotective.

Like, you probably have a tracker somewhere that is connected to his phone, if you stop at an unknown location for too long, he is immediately calling you.

He is just concerned, poor baby always feels so anxious.

He was even hesitant to ask you out because he didn't want to get rejected, because he knew he would still silently care for you.

You were the one who ended up confessing first.

A/N: mann I am so in love with Kurapika :,)

Tags: @akumicchi @jazzylove @futuristicallykawaiiturtle @kristaline2dmensimp @rintaroubby @nanaseishiro

Hunter x Hunter (ハンタ x ハンタ)

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