#the things i'd do if this could be me and you

[jjjjisun]

Lucky Slip

Yiren X Male Reader | 3090 words

TW: Incest

—

Buy me a Ko-Fi.

—

She was singing in the shower again. Boy, I hated hearing her sing when she knew I was waiting for her. There was always my parents' shower, but we tended to leave that one alone for whatever reason. So I stood there, waiting, pacing, and generally worrying about whether I'd make it out to my job this morning. Sure, I didn't have to be there right on time, seeing as I had been running my own thing during the summer for a while now, but it was the principle of the thing. I had commitments, and she was headed, god knows where this morning. Believe me, this was not the first time.

Judging by tight and tiny workout clothes lying on her bed, she was heading to the gym and was likely just doing some of her "beauty" exercise, designed only to maintain what was already near perfect. Oh yeah, and there was that; the fit, 18-year-old tart, my little sister Yiren, singing the sweet notes that were breaking steadily through the sound of the falling water, was drop-dead gorgeous.

It started with the face: a cute but sultry combination of deep brown eyes, great cheekbones, and a set of pouty, pink lips. Her dirty black hair often fell messily down and sometimes in a tight braid. Now, it would be wet and hanging down her shoulders and body below. There probably aren't words for how amazing her body was, but either way, she had breasts made up of the perfect handful, a taut, smooth stomach, and never-ending slender legs coming from a spankable behind.

She was rarely discrete about prancing around the house, as she would be now if she walked out in one of those tiny bath towels we owned. (I still don't know where our mother could have possibly bought them) Sure, I felt guilty, but I assured myself that my deliberate avoidance of concentrating on how hot my little sister was was enough to balance the dreams I often had of her. Even my peripheral vision couldn't un-see that half-naked angel bending down to take clothes out of the drier in a bra and panties on Sunday afternoons. And more than once, I saw an unmistakable smirk on her face when my mouth dropped open wide. She flitted across the kitchen in nearly nothing as I made breakfast.

So there I was, waiting outside the door like a total sucker when I finally decided to address the problem, and whether it was my impatience or my considerable need to pee that led me to it, I don't know. I jiggled the doorknob just so (living in the same place for ten years, you pick up a few things) and swung open the locked door, making right for the porcelain. I took care of business quickly, and I was happy to have gotten there before I had an accident at 22 years old. It was then, standing there, that I noticed the silhouette of my little sister on the curtain.

Whatever the material was, it probably wasn't designed for much privacy because I could see enough to immediately get blood pumping to my lower half. For crying out loud, I could even make out the pink of her nipple as she arched her back and ran water through her hair. I looked away, remembering my resolve. But there was nothing to be done; the most naked view of my sister I'd ever gotten had penetrated my defenses. My cock was all the way hard before I could do anything. Combine that with my accidental reflex to flush the toilet, and I was about to be standing there with a raging boner just as my little sister realized I was in the bathroom.

She teased me enough about any girls I could be seen with or my wide eyes when I turned the corner to her room in the middle of her undressing; God knows what she'd say about her big brother getting hard over his sister. So I did the only thing I could do: I sat down quickly and leaned forward to try and conceal my arousal. As expected, Yiren poked her head around the curtain's edge within seconds of the flush. She did a poor job covering what the curtain revealed; that certainly wouldn't help the situation.

"What the fuck, Oppa!" she hollered.

"I had to go, and you are taking so long, I just couldn't wait anymore!" I piped back.

"Ugh, you are such a jerk. You never give me any privacy," she steamed

That was a laugh - her prancing around the house was far from asking for privacy.

"You better not look," she said as she disappeared behind the translucent shroud again, "I've seen you do it before, hmph!" She said the second part was a little quieter, but I still heard it.

Seconds later, when I was practically begging my penis to calm down, the water suddenly shut off, and I could hear Yiren drying off and sliding back the curtain before I could do anything but hunch to try and avoid her seeing my stiff shaft. She led with her long, smooth leg before I could see the tops of her breasts threatening to free themselves from the snugly wrapped towel. I was beginning to doubt I'd get through this; her body was working overtime against me.

And then there it was, the little bit of water she'd dripped on the floor before when she'd pulled back the curtain to curse me out was just below her lead foot. Already lifting her other foot to clear the tub, she was doomed. The heel slipped with an audible screech, and Yiren headed backward fast and directly toward where I sat. I didn't know what to go for in my attempt to catch her; I removed my hands from their shielding of my erection. I reached out to grab her arms as they came for me, but her unbalanced stance sent her sweet bottom first. It slid right by my outstretched arms and down. I just missed it, and I could only attempt to cushion her fall the way I did. And then she touched down...

It was an impossible chance, lightning striking the same shark attack twice. And yet, when I was just about to ease her to a stop, the final 8 inches of her fall made all the difference. My head popped just between her lips, and a second later, it was buried within her. Yiren came to rest, completely sheathing me, her brother, inside of her.

Silence. Reality was trying its hardest to set in, but the utter warmth, the clasp of her walls, the wetness. Oh my God, was she wet? And not 'just out of the shower wet' but more 'now I know why she takes such long showers wet.' "I must have interrupted her," I thought as I savored being engulfed in my sister just after she'd been playing with herself. My hands were on her butt just as they were when I reached out to catch her, and she wasn't even touching the floor. She made one slight movement, testing what would happen if she tried to get up, and I'm not sure what she thought of the result.

Though I didn't think it possible, I pushed a bit forward into Yiren when she moved, and both of us gasped. My hands unintentionally squeezed at her butt, and when my cock found that new place in her pussy she shot a hand back to grab one of my wrists. She hadn't meant to, but I appreciated the sheer emotion of the gesture.

"Oppa......" she whispered between pants.

I waited. I attempted my old 'avoid the temptation' technique, and when I felt her quim pulsing upon me, I knew it was pointless. My squeezing fingers pulled Yiren closer to me, my shaft slid against Yiren's walls, and I could feel her fingernails upon my wrist.

"You have to... we have to stop..." It sounded like she was trying my strategy, though her words were barely audible.

".....yes, okay..... you have to get up first." I warned.

At first, she didn't move, and then she put her foot on the ground and pushed upward. My sister's tiny hole slid out around me slowly, pleasurably, until she slipped again. I looked around and could see no reason for it, but down she went until her ass reconnected with my hips. I searched her for an answer and only caught a second of the glance she'd sent my way on her look back. However, it was unmistakable as it flashed a smile.

And a naughty one at that. My perfect little sister wasn't as innocent as she'd played. Her smile gave her away. I positioned my hands for a different type of help this time. Her hand, still wrapped around my wrist, tightened. My hands indented in her as I guided her just a fraction of an inch from popping out. She cast her glance my way, sending boughs of her luscious black hair bouncing over her shoulder. She was sitting more upright now, her back arching, and as my eyes met hers, the wicked grin I observed told me she wasn't about to stop.

She began to sink back into my lap, my rod filling her with its heat, inch by inch. This time, she cooed and reached back with her other hand. I was in heaven. The towel fell away from her body, and for the second time, my naked, sexy little sister was descending upon my protruding member (intentionally, that is). It was so warm, and its tightness made me focus on nothing but the feeling. I couldn't control myself. As she came down to meet me, I grasped her all the more firmly and thrust upward to meet her.

"Oh God, we should stop..... oh fuck..... we should not be doing this..........uhhhh," she couldn't even finish the sentence.

I started to move my hands a bit, becoming bolder and hungrier to feel my sister's body. They inched over her hips, which I paused to grasp, feeling her hipbones as I pressed my fingers into her. I massaged her a bit there, causing the slow and steady bouncing she had begun to increase in tempo.

"I thought you were getting up?" I teased, having trouble focusing as Yiren was sliding herself up and down on top of me. My God, I knew she wasn't, but by the tightness of her tunnel, I could have sworn she was a virgin.

"Uhhhh... Fuck you..." She let out with evident frustration.

"I think you are, sis..." I strained, and she laughed.

My hands made my way up to her breasts, finally, and they were all I'd dreamed of. As I took them in my hands, they sat there cupped perfectly. I kneaded them, brushed my fingers over her nipples, and marveled at their perfection. One of my hands continued adoring her breasts while I wrapped my other arm around her abdomen, forcing her down hard now onto my penetrating rod.

"Fuck you're big... I can't stop.....mmmmmggghh..... don't stop fucking me." She sounded so sexy, moaning and cooing while talking dirty to me.

I decided to take more initiative, pushing myself up from our position and finally causing Yiren's dainty toes to contact the ground. As soon as they did, I turned her, with my cock still lodged inside of her, to the sink. Standing now, it was my turn to start fucking my little sister just the way I wanted her. Bent over the sink as she was, she suddenly stood on her tiptoes as I started pushing my thick head in and out of her once again. It was an involuntary gesture, the little spasm that had stood her like a rail for me to shove myself directly up into, probably from all the pleasure I was giving her, and I loved it almost as much as the panting I could hear coming from my ungodly sexy sis.

I reached in front of us once again and took a firm grasp of her chest, lodging myself inside her warm pussy as my hands massaged her tremendous tits. She did her best to meet my thrusts, but my desire for her had me winning out and slapping my pelvis against her toned butt. I fucked her like that for a few minutes, my hands alternating between a dominant grasp of her slender neck, soft breasts, toned abdomen, and pert ass. I even reached down to massage her clit and send her into a powerful orgasm.

"Ohhhh FUCKKK..... Oh my God, I can't believe.......ughhhh.... my brother is making me cummmm!!"

And cum she did; the pulsing of her walls around my penetrating member was almost enough to send me over the edge, but I powered through and made her ride out her orgasm with continuous thrusts inside of her. We looked each other in the eyes in the mirror, watching as my hands worked themselves around her body and seeing each other's wide eyes in disbelief at the sheer excitement and pleasure.

"Fucccckkk...." She whispered as she came down from her orgasm. She was short of breath but had enough to say: "I want to watch. I want to watch your big fat cock going in and out, please?" I wanted to look into her eyes directly, too, to watch her watch me press my cock into her pussy and know just how much she loved it. My little sister - the consummate tease and the object of so many of my dreams now in my grasp. I wanted to look deep into her eyes as I fucked her. I wanted this act of incest, which had started as an accident, to end up with Yiren begging for more; now that I was inside of her, I wasn't sure my cock would ever feel right anywhere else.

Yiren must have felt the same way, too, because when I dislodged myself from inside of her to flip her around, her face was laden with need -- the need to be filled up by her big brother's big cock once more. It was she who reached between us and took hold of the head of my steaming rod, placing it at her entrance and saying:

"Oh please, Oppa....put it back in me..."

I leaned into her body, my cock head urging its way passed her tight lips. As I began to inch my cock into my little sister's pussy I also lifted her by the ass, my fingers pressing into her firm, smooth cheeks as I put her weight on the vanity.

"Yeessssssssssssss.... Show me, Oppa, that big thing of yours going in your naughty little sister....oooohhhh." I did just that, bottoming out in her inescapable warmth before retracting and entering her passage once again. First, we were both looking at the penetration, the unbelievable and erotic incest we were both losing ourselves in, and then upward. My eyes scanned her body, hers mine. When we reached our lips, I leaned in, locked eyes, and kissed her recklessly. The kiss said everything we couldn't: that Yiren's teasing had been only about torturing me and that my dreams were fighting to manifest themselves. Yiren's look was one of desperation. I could see another orgasm welling up inside of her, and I wanted her to come with me. I was so close.

"Oh, baby, oh, big bro... please... I know we shouldn't, but... uh..." she trailed off.

"What Yiren...? I said over hurried breaths, still focusing on sliding my shaft in and out of Yiren's pussy. I could watch it flex to accommodate me, her insides making way for the penetrating staff.

She moaned as she tried to catch enough breath..."I could get pregnant......Ohhhhh God, I don't give a.... fuckkkkkkkk......oooooh." I pushed in deeper on that one, spurred on by what I could tell my little sister was implying over an escalating orgasm.

"Just fill me up baby... yes, yes..... cum in your bad little sis...... I've been teasing you for so long..... I can't believe I've been....uhhhh... missing this!" God, she sounded so sexy.

I was seconds away now, and Yiren was headed there, too. Just a couple more strokes, and we'd both be......Wow, the feeling was so wonderful. I watched my sister roll her eyes and head back as she started to feel it, my cock pulsing with its first powerful jet of sperm, directly, deeply into my little sister's pussy. She was over the edge, and I held her in my arms as she clutched me and howled in front of me. With another pulse of sperm, my heart felt like it would explode, but I only exploded again into Yiren's womb.

It felt like it could go on forever, Yiren's spasming body or the powerful sprays of my seed. It didn't, though, and my beautiful, albeit horny little sister was smiling like the dirty little girl she was while we remained locked together at the hips. My cock softened only a bit, remaining so full of desire for Yiren that it refused to disappear. Yiren rested her head on my heaving chest.

"Ummmm..... wow.....

"Yea... That was...." I stuttered to find the words.

Yiren finished them for me, "Intense...amazing.....wow."

"You are... unbelievable." She blushed when I said that, though I wouldn't have known over her sex-flushed face.

Yiren felt my cock still hard inside of her. It must have grown because her eyes widened, and she said with shock, "Are you serious? Ready to fuck your little sister again so soon? Don't you think we should get some protection or something?"

"Yesss.... " I got out.

But my cock had other plans. The risk of getting my little sister Yiren pregnant sent my cock expanding deeper and broader into Yiren's slick channel. She flashed me that famous smile, and I knew she wanted it.

She wanted it three more times that night. We fucked on the kitchen table, on the screened-in porch, and, best of all, in our parents shower. I couldn't get enough of Yiren's beautiful body and her seductive and sexy personality. We got to protection eventually, but filling my little sister up with her own brother's sperm was all that either of us wanted for a while. We're just crossing our fingers, and I'm still making love to my sister as much as possible every chance I get.

[ariestrxsh]

pervy!bsf!chris x innocent!bsf!reader

᧔•᧓ content warning: smut, innocence corruption, degradation, panty stealing, pillow riding, vouyerism, masturbation, chris thinks about you while having sex with another girl

᧔•᧓ summary: after chris witnesses a private moment you had with your pillow, he steals the pair of your panties you had on

requested/inspired by this ask ᧔•᧓

dividers by @/bernardsbendystraws

Creeping

chapters: | 1 |

"You should have seen her face," Chris told you, the corners of his lip turning up in a conceited smile. Your very experienced best friend was sitting at the edge of your bed beside you, recounting his most recent sexual encounter to you in great detail. "Eyes rolled back in her head while she took it like a little slut," Chris gazed into your eyes, leaning in and wetting his lips.

His seductive stare made your heartbeat quicken, and your body temperature rose. "While she took what like a little slut?" You innocently asked, crinkling your nose. You had a vague idea, but you were dying to hear him say it. "My cock, silly," Chris chuckled at you, nudging you in the arm.

You were a virgin, and Chris knew this. Despite never having had sex, you were very curious about the subject, and it always piqued your interest, the way Chris talked about sex. "Do girls like that? When you call them a slut?" You wondered aloud. "Depends on the girl. Some can't get enough of it," Chris replied, his voice thick with lust.

"I don't know if I'd like it. I mean, I'm not one," you giggled. "Well, I think you really like when I tell you this kind of stuff, so I don't know. You might be a little bit of a slut," Chris teased you, immediately sending blood rushing to your cheeks and a wetness between your legs. "No, I'm not!" You gently shoved him, trying to conceal your embarrassed smile. He could tell you liked it, but you weren't sure if you were allowed to like it.

"You're right. Only a little slut would wanna hear me talk about how I filled up another girl and watched it all drip out," he snickered, watching the way you blushed at his words. You bit your lip, and a micro-expression of desire slipped into your facial features. You couldn't help the way your body was reacting to him.

Chris grew hard from watching your reactions to his escapades, especially because he knew you'd always had a big crush on him, and he knew how much you liked picturing him in such a compromising position despite the fact that you tried to hide it. "You're imagining it, aren't you?" Chris taunted you, reading your body language and searching your features with his blue eyes.

"I am not!" You huffed in response, denying his claim and crossing your arms over your chest. "If you say so," Chris said, remaining unconvinced. "Well, I'm gonna head out. I'm going to see that girl again," Chris responded, getting up from your bed and pulling you into a long hug.

You felt a range of emotions - incredibly turned on by the images he'd just filled your head with, but you also felt jealous and heartbroken. You couldn't help the way you felt for Chris, and you desperately wanted to be the one that he was doing all of those things to. However, you knew he was a player, and you figured he'd only ever go for the experienced girls anyway.

"Stay out of trouble while I'm gone, hmm?" He joked, ruffling your hair. After he kissed you on the forehead, which awakened a swarm of butterflies in your stomach, he took off down your stairs and out your front door.

He got into his car, turned the key in the ignition, and rolled down his windows, letting the fresh air in. He was right about to turn on some music when he patted both his jeans pockets in search of his phone only to remember he'd left it in your bedroom. He sighed, cutting the engine and making his way back up to your house.

He knocked on the door and waited a few moments, but when you didn't answer, Chris decided to let himself in. It's not like he could call you.

He climbed back up your stairs, his heavy shoes hitting the ground beneath him as he hurried. He wandered down your hallway, heading towards your room. He could see his phone sitting face up on top of your vanity through the crack in the door. "Hey, I -" Chris started to say, but as he nearly entered your bedroom, he abruptly stopped and watched in awe.

There you were on your bed, eyes screwed shut, eyebrows pinned together, and lips parted as you straddled your pillow, rocking your hips back and forth. You were using one hand to stabilize yourself on the bed, and the other was clutching your breast through your shirt. A smug smile crossed Chris' face as he peeped on you from the hallway.

His hand immediately flew up to his hard cock, and he started gently palming it as he fixed his gaze on your expression. No wonder you hadn't heard his knock or his voice before he'd nearly walked in unannounced. You were completely immersed in pleasure, grinding away on your pillow.

You bucked your hips faster, reaching up your blouse and gently rolling your nipple between two of your fingertips, unknowingly flashing him the underside of your breast. The boy you were fantasizing about while doing such a vulnerable thing was still staring at you through the crack in the door, mouth wide open and eyebrows raised.

"Oh, fuck," Chris quietly whispered to himself as the scene unfolded before him, reaching into his jeans and wrapping his fingers around his cock. He started pumping his hand over his length, every once in a while, lightly brushing over his tip that was beginning to gush with precum.

Your breath was picking up, your hips were moving back and forth at a faster pace as you felt the wonderful tension in your lower stomach. "Oh, Chris," he heard you hiss as your whole body trembled. You came unraveled, moans unfurling from your lips as you threw your head back. You were completely lost in the throes of ecstasy, your thrashing hips starting to slow to an unhurried grind.

A satisfied smile crept across your face as you glanced down at the wet spot on your pillow case. Chris immediately stopped jerking off, worried you'd look up and see him through the crack in your door. He tucked his erection back into his pants and hurriedly closed his zipper.

You tugged the pillowcase off and threw it on the floor. You pulled yourself to your feet, your legs still feeling weak and wobbly from your intense orgasm. Chris watched as you faced away from him, pulling down your bottoms and tugging off your shirt, discarding them on the ground next to your soiled pillowcase.

He admired your curves, taking in the sight of your perfectly shaped ass and the way it bounced as you walked into your connected bathroom. You shut the door behind you, a click sounding as it latched shut, and he heard the shower kick on. His eyes were drawn to the mess of clothes in the middle of your bedroom floor.

There laid the band t-shirt you'd just had on, the cut off shorts you were just in, and the pink panties you were just wearing. He creeped into your room, leaned down, and picked your underwear up off the floor. They were pretty and silky, and Chris immediately noticed the soaked spot on the front of them.

A faint smirk graced his features as he stuffed them into his back pocket. He was so enamored with what he'd just seen, he nearly forgot his phone, the whole reason he'd come back in the first place. He slipped back out before you had any idea.

Once you got out of the shower, you gathered the pile of clothes. You were about to throw them in your hamper and take them to do your laundry when you noticed an important item was missing. You started to search around, looking under your bed, under the floor mat in your bathroom, and you even started to question if you'd even worn underwear that day, which would have been strange for you not to notice you'd forgotten to put them on.

You eventually gave up on finding them, certain that they'd turn up at some point, and you walked off with your hamper to go wash the rest of your clothes. Chris found himself in his most recent hook up's bed, bending her over while he took her from behind.

Things had gotten so heated between the two of them so quickly that they hadn't even made it all the way out of their clothes. Chris had lazily pulled his date's thong to the side with his pants still halfway on when he'd stuck his cock into her. The only problem was Chris couldn't get you off his mind.

He was in the middle of delivering a powerful thrust when he remembered he had your panties. Chris was usually against thinking about someone else when he was having sex with a woman, because he considered it rude, and he wanted to be fully present with the person in front of him, but it felt like he had no control over what happened next.

He retrieved the silk fabric from his back pocket, admiring how pretty they were once again. He couldn't stop thinking about the fact that they'd had direct contact with your pussy and how you'd soaked through them while thinking about him. He closed his eyes and pressed the soft material up to his nose, taking a deep inhale, your arousal filling his senses.

He sped up his movements, his date moaning his name and begging him to fill her up again. He couldn't help himself. He kept imagining it was you beneath him, his mind swirling with how your cunt would feel stretching around him for the first time and how his name would sound leaving your lips in your most desperate moment. It was almost too much for him to handle.

"Take it. Take my cock like the little slut you know you are," he whispered, pretending you were the one he was saying it to. "Chris! Don't stop!" The woman beneath him practically screamed as her pussy started rhythmically clenching around his length. With your panties still balled up in his fist, Chris came, pumping his date full of his warm, sticky load with the thought of you humping your pillow and moaning his name still lingering in his mind.

"Oh, fuck," he groaned, driving his dick as far deep in as it could go into her before coming to a stop. "Wow, Chris. That was amazing," she breathlessly said, slumping forward into her pillow as she recovered. A smirk spread across his lips. He loved hearing how good he was from his satisfied partners.

He quickly shoved your panties back into his back pocket, cleared his throat, and pulled out. "Fuck, that never gets old," he whispered, watching his seed overflowing from her hole and spilling out onto the sheets. "You're such a perv, Chris," his date laughed, rolling her eyes, secretly loving that about him. "I'm not as pervy as you are slutty," he shot back, chuckling and pulling up his boxers and his jeans. "Can't argue with that," she said, smiling as she shifted around her bed to face him.

"Hey, are you okay? The sex was great and all, but you just seem preoccupied, like you're mentally checked out or something," she asked, cradling his face while her gaze met his. Chris' eyes quickly veered away from her's, a bit of guilt seeping into his conscience. He liked getting off to you, but he didn't like thinking about you when he was with another girl, and he felt bad that she could feel his displaced energy.

"You know, I'm sorry. My mind is just kinda somewhere else right now," he admitted, shrugging. "Come on. Lay down with me. Let's talk about it," she said, covering herself in her sheet as she curled up into her bed. Chris shook his head. "I'm so sorry. I can't stay the night tonight. I have a lot to think about," Chris replied, grabbing his shirt off the floor and throwing it on. "That's okay. Maybe next time?" She smiled. He leaned in and kissed her. "Goodnight," he said before leaving her house.

Chris stepped out into the darkness. He heard the crickets chirping nearby and the distant sound of cars whooshing passed each other on the overpass. He unlocked his car door and collapsed down into his seat to join the rest of the late night drivers, wondering what had gotten into him and why he still couldn't get you out of his head.

[koalemoslepus]

I use to work in professional fine jewelry sales but didn't last long for a myriad of reasons

Not insignificantly autism and a life long disdain for the wealthy -

But one of the reasons was I kept getting trouble for successfully recommending moissanite

Like

I dunno to me it was awesome

Fucking cloned

Space rock

Id be like Yeah Id prefer one

I'd leave out the unspoken but ever very loud parts of risking child slave labor on your finger cause like I wouldn't have the opportunity to change more outcomes if I-

Does it really bare repeating in a place like that ?

So I'd tell them in gushing coos how I'd like some enormous stone on my finger one day, maybe it could even be made by my partner ! They He's in Stem you know- so its romantic to think maybe a nice well air conditioned lab with health benefits like that could bring me both a stone and a home hahahahha-hahahahhaha- hahaha

Oh my glasses? The heart shapes ? Thank you- Yes they're prescription, yes I've worn a pair like them for years they're so fun aren't they- yes I do love pink , I can't wait for my big fat stone ring to match it -

Oh didn't you know with that big space rock you can get it in any shape and color you like, for a fraction of the price. No no it's practically the same hardness and clarity as the diamond , see look on this scale-

Oh what's that you don't like those spots in your diamond? Oh but that's how you know it's a natural , earth's little kisses you know hahahhaha- aaah

-Oh a diamond without them... of course of course uhm how about this- oh it's out of budget and a bit smaller than we'd planned okay well

This one then!

Oh I know I'm so sorry it's still smaller than what you hoped for but you see according this scale -

Labs? Of course I know it used to be a 4 letter word surrounding engagement rings but that's an old fashioned way of thinking about it that came from our grandparents, gold under the mattress that sort of things, diamonds really can't be bartered easily despite common myth, unless you're in some fantastical scenario where you must trade your ring for your life hahahaha -sweats in current political climate and distracts the Romani ancestors- but then it's really about appearances right??

Anywho we honor upgrades here whatever you chose and have been in business three generations, you'll get the most value from trading in with us later- as far as wear goes well chemically they're exactly the same, I should know I'll be engaged to a chemist soon enough hahahahahaha - ahahaha- -breathe-

Moissanite? -Does not acknowledge the predatory eyes behind my shoulder, who watches now like a tiger that sent its cub out but comes stalking when there's no blood to paint it's paws with, only squawks-

Well I'll add them to your next showing, sure alongside some labs just for comparison right? but I promise to keep searching for a naturally mined diamond that makes you happy,

They'll be in this time, this day- /tells them my availability and that of course anyone can help that anytime they come in but prays it's not Tuesday and Thursdays when the boss travels to come into the office/

A perfect showcase lines up in clear faced little boxes showing them all of the stones and ontop growing where stones shrinks is a price labeled in crisp black ink

Here are your drinks, I'll leave you two with them a moment and come back with my tools to more closely examine them in just a moment- Uh yes of course, you want to see which one in your band? Oh yes if you go with that one, you would be able to put diamonds embedded in your actual band or side stones even- what are we thinking let me grab the tablet. Here that's what that all looks like.....mm okay well lemme just flip the embedded gems to labs and- yes ? Yes? Yes we can look at wedding bands, now

you've got plenty of budget for both today don't you you're welcome dude horse to water much...

Yay! We all settled? Great! I love these choices!! Like I said I love moissanite too I think they're just so romantic, and look now you've only got to do the hard parts for the wedding hahaha aww thank you, team work yeah who'd thunk? (ME ME ME ME ME ME ME and that's with the fact I had to usually overcut lab prices so we could undercut earth mined diamonds margins by the 1000s of made up dollars worth hairs

To constantly keep tricking rich people or poor fucks who fell for the hype to buy them outta there

Fuck I hated working in jewelry

Oh and don't buy from the chains, thats another problem I faced with people being scared to buy labs because I legit had people come in with rotting out rhinestones (that I had to watch them recieve The Truth For) after spending what little savings they had so when they and everyone they knew were suddenly very guarded to getting anything other than a natural diamond cause someone HAD THE HEARTLESSNESS TO LIE TO THEIR FACE LIKE THAT BRUH like where I worked were villians surely if by trade than nothing else but like like but not irredeemable entirely. I can't even be like put that shit back in the earth cause that's pollution like -

told my girlfriend that if she proposes i want a secondhand wedding ring. i explained i don't want to contribute to a vanity-based industry like diamond mining, and that it would be important to me to continue marriage traditions in a way that causes minimal environmental and personal harm. she asked me if i was just trying to roll the dice on obtaining a haunted object, and i told her i can want two things.

[bluebirdsfeathers]

Her Office

──────･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ──────

Relationship: Ceo!Wanda X Butch!Loser!Reader

Summary: Wanda tried to get to know you a bit better before you start working together but an innocent question bring out painful memories.

Words: 2.1k

Warnings: age gap relationship (R is early 20s, W is like 40), Past verbal and physical abuse, Slight hinted at homophobia, Mommy issues bc i have them too, power imbalance?

A/N: sorry this took so long. uni is really kicking my butt right now and just when i thought i'd have time to write my research supervisor gives me a 400+ page book to read.

Inspiration

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4

──────･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ──────

──────･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ──────

“I can’t believe you’re abandoning me… and for my sister!” Pietro joked as he helped you clear out your desk. You’d made yourself at home over the past few months working for him. You were sad to be leaving but excited to be working for Wanda, also incredibly nervous, like throw up into the recycling bin near the printer nervous. Not that that had happened of course.

“But seriously, we are going to miss you down here. Don’t go forgetting about us.” He patted you on the back handing you the last of your stuff.

“How could I forget you? I’ll be down here like every other day wont I? Wanda visits all the time.” you reply with slight confusion. Wanda was always coming down to check on things, like she must do with all the departments. You assumed most of your job would be to accompany her many visits around the building. Staying close and taking notes on what she says like you’d seen Theo do.

“Yeah, she definitely was just coming down here for routine check-ins.” Pietro mumbled with the faintest air of smugness of someone who knows something you don’t has. Before you could register what he said, the doors on the far side of the room swung open and in came Wanda.

 Her stride exuded confidence as she made her way over to you and your now empty desk. Her hair was slightly messy, shirt untucked, and instead of her usual high heels she wore flats.

“Got everything?” She sounded short of breath, like she had just been running. “The elevator to my office is being inspected so we’ll have to take the stairs.” Without another word, Wanda started walking back towards the door pausing to look behind her when she sensed you hadn’t moved. “Come on those 15 floors won’t climb themselves.” Suddenly her slightly dishevelled appearance made sense. You took a deep breath and gave one last look at Pietro, who seemed to be going to great lengths to not laugh at his sister, before following Wanda.

The stair well was in stark contrast to the rest of the building. Tall grey brick walls and bright white lighting. It seemed to also double as extra storage space judging by the stacks of boxes and pallets back here. You only seen them briefly while getting your monthly fire safety talks from a very unenthusiastic Dr. Banner, who once again felt the need to remind the group he had much more important things to be doing than this. As much as you found the man funny, he’s short temper made him a little scary at times.

People yelling had always been something you weren’t fond of. Your mom had always been so angry with you for not behaving like she wanted. The constant being told to sit, speak, and act ‘like a lady’ throughout your childhood had led to so many arguments. Femininity was just something you never had an interest in and the pressure to fit in from your family only made you reject it harder.

This never made the yelling easier, instead it had only made you desperate to avoid that sort of conflict. Wanda yelling the other day had scared you in a way you hadn’t felt since you were a child, and you were now desperate to make sure you were never on the receiving of her rage.

“Y/n, careful.” You had been so lost in thought you’d missed a step and stumbled forward. Wanda who had been talking non-stop about how inconvenient the elevator maintenance was stopped to help you pick up some pens that had fallen from the box you were carrying. “Do you need some help with that? It looks heavy.”

You saw this a challenge.

“No I’m fine, I’m very strong.” Wanda gave you a smile as she placed the pens back into the box touching your hand as she pulled away before turning around to continue climbing the stairs. Your face immediately flushed red.

“Only 4 more flights to go.” Her voice echoed off the bare walls was she turned another corner. You let out a sigh, the box was actually really heavy.

Once in her office you placed the box on an empty desk in the corner of the room. It was pushed up to the window and gave you an amazing view of New York. It was only then you realised how high up you were.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” Wanda came up behind you making you jump slightly, all this achieved was making the red head chuckle slightly. “You’re so jumpy you know that?”

“I’ve been told.” You gave a small smile. Being alone with Wanda was terrifying and exciting all at once. The reality of the situation hadn’t really sunk in till just now. It was going to be the two of you, alone, very often from here out.

“Can I ask you something?” You nervously asked fiddling with the hem of your shirt not daring to look Wanda in the eyes. Her beautiful green eyes.

“Of course you can, darling.” Her final word rattled about in your brain momentarily making you forget what you even wanted in the first place.

“What you said, before,” Finally a coherent thought, “about wanting me, from the start. Was that true?”

“Yes, why would I lie.” Wanda raised an eyebrow giving you a no-nonsense look that you couldn’t if it was fully serious or not.

“No, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it like that! I just, why didn’t you? You know, pick me the first time?” It was definitely a word salad that came out your mouth, thank God you were better at writing than speaking. “I’m sorry I don’t mean to pry…” you added after Wanda took a second to respond.

“No, no, don’t apologies…” She took a deep breath as if debating what to say. “That first day, I thought you had potential,” she began, clearly choosing her words carefully, “I just wanted to, see if you had what it takes to you know, be mine.”

“Be… yours.” The words caught in your throat as swallowed hard, struggling to speak.

“Be my intern, my assistant.” Wanda rushed to clarify but something inside you felt like her previous words were more honest. Not that you would dare push her on it. “And being my intern comes with a lot of responsibility, so I hope you are ready.”

“Yes ma’am.” You say saluting the older woman, who found the action quite amusing. “What do you need me to do first?”

Turns out Wanda didn’t want you to do anything just yet. Instead the two of you sat across from each other in the strange living room area of her office. Wanda lent back into a large leather armchair while you sat on the edge of the couch, almost velvety, black sofa.

She offered you a tea or coffee but instead you opted for the remnants of the energy drink you had tried to chug on the train this morning. Your choice in beverage clearly wasn’t approved by Wanda but she did little to stop you besides remind you of their negative health effects.

She asked you questions about yourself, clearly wanting to get to know you better but you held back from answering her questions too honestly, scared of being fired or disappointing her which was somehow worse in your head. They were all basic questions, and you asked some back at her.

She wanted to know about your favourite meal, how to you travel to work, where are you staying, and when you were going to get some proper work shoes. Your real answer being when they made comfortable ones but instead you opted to say when you get your next paycheck.

Then she asked something that caught you completely off guard. “How is your relationship with your family?”

“My family?” You repeat to make sure you were hearing things right.

“Yes, your family, you are one of the only interns not from a known family in the city, you mentioned you aren’t from New York originally, they must be proud of you?” Wanda spoke with a warm smile.

You hadn’t noticed but during the conversation you had leant back into the couch. It was like she had given you permission to relax for a change. You didn’t understand why but talking with Wanda made you feel comfortable, almost too comfortable at times making you need to remind yourself she was your boss.

“They umm,” your mind went to the argument you’d had with your father when you told him you were going to university miles away, almost across the entire country, “can we talk about something else.” Your voice shook slightly at the memory.

How angry he’d been, how angry he always was. The same with your mother, always so resentful, never protecting you from him. You spent your first semester coach surfing with a black eye till you had enough money to afford to rent a shitty little apartment.

“Sweetie, it’s okay.” Wanda had seemingly caught on that something was wrong and moved to sit next to you on the couch. She placed her arm around you and pulled you into a side hug that made your whole body tense. “For what it’s worth, I’ve seen your grades and watched how hard you work. I’m proud of you y/n.” Her voice had the same warmth as earlier, it was sickeningly genuine to you.

All you wanted to do was melt into her arms, but you couldn’t this was your boss. She was just being nice, there was no way she would let you get that close to her under regular circumstances. You told yourself you wouldn’t let yourself get attached. You’d seen how ruthless she could be, and it terrified you to think of being on the receiving end. Catching feelings would just make your eventual fuck up ever worse.

Besides there was no way in hell CEO Wanda Maximoff, multimillionaire Wanda Maximoff, Old enough to be your mother Wanda Maximoff would ever have feelings for you in return.

“I need to go to the bathroom.” You stood up as quickly as Wanda grip on you allowed. “Sorry.” You hurried to the small bathroom in the corner of the room, locking the door behind you before allowing yourself a moment to cry.

Cruel words from you parents fought the gentle reassurance Wanda had given you. You took a moment to collect yourself. Taking several deep breaths and trying to get rid of the redness in your eyes with a little cold water from the tab.

The bathroom, like everything in Wanda’s office screamed sophistication. The mostly white tiles with the smallest hint of red complemented the plush red hand towels, and several well looked after plants littered a shelf above the toilet. Most surprisingly was the shower and clawfoot tub in the room. Did she actually use them? Or where they just there because they could be?

Finally you were ready to leave the bathroom, stepping out you saw Wanda quickly look away from your direction. Had she been watching the door the whole time?

“Y/n, feeling better?” you gave a weak nod. “Good, right back to business then, first order is sorting out… this.” She pointed towards you clothing. Since Pietro had never required you to dress professionally, you had never updated your wardrobe. You wore the same baggy, teen boy esc clothing you always did.

“Yeah, I thought that would be a problem, sorry about the way I dress. I just…”

“No I like the way you dress.” Wanda cut you off. “I mean, you dress fine, it’s just not… appropriate if you are going to be accompanying me to important meetings and such.” You couldn’t tell if you were imagining it, but you could have sworn you saw a small blush creep onto the older woman’s face.

“Right, there should be a measuring tape in the third draw of the left cabinet in my office. I have some work to get on with you can’t help with.” Wanda began quickly pressing the button of the, hopefully, now working lift.

“I want you to measure yourself and note it down. I’ll sort you out some more work appropriate clothing.” Before you could ask any other follow up questions the doors to the lift opened and she rushed inside, disappearing almost immediately.

Walking into Wanda’s office you looked out at the city, everything seemed so quiet, so still from all the way up here. Grabbing the measuring tape you sat down at your desk, getting your phone out to look up exactly what measurement you need to give her. You’d never had to think about measurements when buying clothes before. Your face flushed a bit think about the idea of Wanda choosing you some clothes. Hopefully she wouldn’t put you in a pencil skirt, or God forbid heels.

──────･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ──────

Tag list: @wandaslittlehorns @starfire1008 @mirage018 @viosblog112 @nebthetautora @ciaoooooo111 @cowboy-hunter @htinha157 @the-falling-avenger @reginassecretlover @canyonyodeler @mrsromanovaa @loneliestafterparty @imawandasimp @caramelcat123 @marvelwomen-simp @reginassweetheart @unadulteratedballoonduck @kei034 @coollemonsaresour 

[muwapsturniolo]

Cupids choke hold જ⁀➴ᡣ𐭩 C. Sturniolo

"dad, i think i finally found the one."

⟢Fluff really, Chris just being in love with bun

@bernardsbendystraws for credit

The sun was setting over the city of angels, and Chris was entranced by his own angel.

Bunny.

He stared down at his lock screen, smiling softly to himself as the picture brought warmth to his chest. His admiration was interrupted by his phone ringing, a name popping up that he hadn't spoken to in a while. He answers the call and puts it on speaker, instantly feeling comforted by the voice on the other end.

"Hey son, where have you been?"

The question makes him feel guilty. He was always a mama's boy despite his harsh exterior, his mother being his rock and safe place, and she loved it. The mother and son duo knew to a degree it wasn't fair, but they were each other's favorites, and everyone else knew it too.

"Hey Ma," he says softly, inhaling a bit of the joint before tapping the excess ashes off. "I know it's been a minute since we last spoke...I have so much to tell you."

He begins to feel nervous like he is about to be judged. He knew it was an irrational fear, his mother would never judge him, even when he did something wrong.

"It's going to sound like a bad joke, but Ma...I fell in love, I found the real thing. I got a girlfriend and she's amazing."

A bit of shuffling is heard on the other end before she responds to him, "A girlfriend? Is the same one that- No." Chris instantly cuts her off, not even wanting to bring up the last girl. She was never his girlfriend. He would never say this to his mother, but she was nothing more than a quick fuck to him.

"No no, this...This is someone new and she's the best thing to happen to me. I probably sound like an old person, but Cupids got me in a chokehold. You know me, I've always been scared to let people in, especially girls, but she made it so easy that I threw the towel down. My white flag is waving, and I'm okay with that."

He couldn't help himself, instantly going on a long ramble about the girl he found himself to love so much.

"-I mean, she cooks me pancakes in the morning, the blueberry ones that you make me when I'm back home. God, and I'm starting to think you two use the same ingredients."

"And what are those ingredients?"

He smiles dopily to himself, looking down at his beat-up Nike slides,

"Love."

Mary-Lou finds herself smiling. She had been worried when her boys finally left the nest they call a home that they wouldn't be ok, but it seemed as if they were doing just fine, finding the right people to have in their lives and keeping their heads straight.

"Tell me more." She urges gently, not wanting to scare the boy into retreating his feelings, but also wanting to know more about the special girl who managed to capture her youngest attention and heart.

"When my stomach hurts, she always gets me Alka seltzers. When I'm sick she goes above and beyond to make sure I'm ok. If that ain't love then don't know what love is, it's like we're married."

"Well, it is through sickness and health, they say during the vows."

He chuckles to himself and continues, "We have this secret handshake, we came up with it on our fourth date when I learned she didn't know how to dapp people up. We're always doing it before she goes to practice and it just brings me so much comfort. Oh, and she even gets along with Matt and Nick! You know how close we are, and I don't think I could date someone who doesn't respect them. She even supports the YouTube shi- I mean stuff we do! I know I'm not that much involved, but she's pushed me to participate more, to be something more."

"...You sound in love..." Mary-Lou states softly, trying to hold in her excitement.

Chris chuckles to himself, nodding along despite Mary Lou not being able to see him.

"I am...I really am. If I had to pick her or the sun, Ma, I'm telling you I'd be a nocturnal son of a gun."

She laughs at his statement, soon urging him to send her a picture of the girl.

"Oh Chris, she's so pretty! And the way you look at her, it's the same way your dad looks at me. You have to bring her to Boston soon!"

So he did.

His chest was ready to burst with excitement and joy seeing the girl he loves so much getting along with his parents and older brother. She fit right in, doing crossword puzzles with his mom, playing Just Dance with Justin, and even going fishing with his dad.

It was late into the night, Chris sitting outside on the back porch, smoking with a glass of water in his hand. Bunny had fallen asleep on the couch with Trevor, both she and the dog snuggled up into a ball and sleeping peacefully. He looks up hearing the door open, smiling gently when he sees his dad.

Jimmy takes a seat in the empty chair next to Chris, settling down and letting out a deep breath. They sit in silence for a minute before Jimmy speaks.

"Tell me about her."

Chris immediately dives in, never missing an opportunity to talk about his girl.

"Dad, I think I finally found the one, the one that makes me a better person and will make you proud of me. She's like Mom, she's the best... I know there have been other girls; you've heard about them, but she's different, she's on a whole different plane. Just the way she says my name, it makes me want to give her the world, hell, even the universe."

Jimmy listens intently, watching how he talks with such passion about the girl sleeping on the couch.

"I love it when she calls me. I feel like an elementary school boy getting excited about his crush talking to him on the playground. She even has her own ringtone so I know its her calling! We used to sit on the phone for hours, doing nothing but breathing most of the time."

"She's a good girl, a real catch. I can see the love you two have for each other, I saw it when we picked you up from the airport. You two are in love and I hope it lasts."

Chris takes a sip of his water, staring out into the backyard with a smile and eyes full of love.

"I know it will, I'm not letting her get away."

He creeps back into the house softly, approaching the living room and chuckling to himself when he sees both Bun and Trev drooling in their sleep.

He goes to pick her up but stops when Justin enters the living room.

"You went soft on me," Justin voices playfully, gently pushing Chris's shoulder. Chris rubs the back of his neck, sitting down on the arm of the couch and placing a hand on the sleeping girl's shoulder.

"She's the reason, she makes it so easy to be...I don't even know. She could make the most annoying, oldest, senile man bite his tongue and talk calmly. Her eyes are so soft and comforting, it's like the sunrise on a summer day, I could stare into them for hours."

Justin watches with a knowing smile on his face. He can tell from how animated Chris gets when talking about her, that he will continue to do so forever. He's in love, and Justin knows the two will end up happily married, and he can't wait.

" She's a complete ten, the most gorgeous and graceful girl I've ever seen. She has me hooked, and I'm not complaining. She has the best laugh ever, and she laughs at all my jokes, even my dumb ones that usually piss Nick and Matt off. Like I told Dad, before we moved in with each other, we'd sit on the phone for hours not saying a word sometimes. We just wanted to be around each other and it was comforting. "

He looks down at the girl once more, toying with her curly strands gently in an attempt to not disturb her slumber.

"It may be too soon, but when I think about my future, when I think about what I want it to look like, it all surrounds her. I want to be the best version of me for her, and I want her to be happy...Call it dumb, call it luck, call it love, or whatever, but everywhere I go and do, I keep a picture of her in my wallet. I want to remember what I'm working for."

Justin walks over and plants his hand on Chris's shoulder, "I can't wait to call her my sister-in-law."

With that, Justin walks out of the living room, leaving the couple and Trevor alone. Chris is gentle when he lifts the girl off the couch, one of his hands caressing her back while the other holds her bottom. He walks up the stairs and into his room, laying her down gently on the bed.

He strips out of his hoodie, kicking off his slides, and crawling into bed, pulling her close and kissing the top of her head.

Despite her being asleep, he proceeds to whisper softly.

"I love you so much, I can't wait to spend the rest of my life with you."

She opens her eyes softly, smiling at him in a sleepy haze.

"I love you more."

[eviltothecore13]

I am always very glad that my family moved to the place where I grew up partway through my childhood--we explored it, we found the good thngs, and we never lost sight of the idea that it was fun to discover stuff and look into what was going on in the area. Meanwhile people my age who'd been born there and whose parents had lived there all their lives were like "there's nothing here, it's boring, there's no fun things to do, we want to get out as soon as we can"--none of which was true. These people had been taking the same route from their homes to school every day and spending all day in school and the weekends seemingly mostly sitting at home or maybe going to the mall, and had never seen or heard of most of the places I liked in the city even though they'd been there longer!

It helped that I was home-educated and so, without the school schedule or expectation that you had to be sitting in a classroom to be learning, got to pretty much go anywhere whenever I wanted as long as it could be described as "educational". But there's no reason even people who did have a schedule to stick to on weekdays couldn't have gone out at the weekends, looking for interesting things to do, and found all kinds of things: the library--which had all kinds of events on, and a space for things like art exhibitions and makers' markets nearby; bookshops; art galleries, museums; any kind of book-related or art-related event; the annual science festival; cafes and restaurants and street food places (once you start walking down the little side streets that aren't part of the standard routes to and from school/work/the supermarket/whatever your daily routine is, you quickly get away from streets with lots of chains and into much more fun independent places) etc. After all, I now work 9 to 5 on weekdays and I still know when something interesting is going on my area and if it's at a weekend (which many things are) can still go to it. They just...didn't look, and assumed there was nothing to find.

(They also mostly believed there were no jobs or opportunities in the area, but that was more because there hadn't been many *for most of their parents' lives* and so their parents had told them "there's nothing worth staying for here, there's no opportunities, get out of here as soon as you're old enough to move out", but that had changed very quickly in the past 10 years and there were actually all kinds of opportunities.)

I hope that those who did move out did explore the new places they moved to and find good things--sometimes I wonder if people like that end up thinking there's nothing interesting in any place they move to because they never learned how to look (I think too many people expect everything to be along the main high street and think there can't possibly be anything interesting down a side street). Sadly I suspect a lot of them are still in the area and still think it's boring and devoid of anything to do, and the longer they stay there the more they'll become convinced "look, I've lived here all my life, believe me, I know the area, there's nothing interesting here because if there was I'd know about it".

Any travel advice site will tell you to travel like a local, but honestly you should local like a traveller. Go out with wide eyes and curiosity. Visit museums and parks and art galleries, try out the overpriced but highly rated restaurants that only tourists visit, take photos and video, stop to read those heritage information signs, treat yourself to an ice cream on a hot day. Don't let tourists be the only ones who take joy in your home.

[ms-demeanor]

Did you guys had all of your homework on loose paper all the time? That how it sounds like when you talk about it is that normal in america?

It's important to remember that I graduated from high school in 2004.

Homework packets and school-issued planners largely came after I'd graduated, and I most of my homework in high school was handwritten on lined paper (except essays and similarly large projects, which were typed).

I remember the orange folder being a thing when I was 11-12, so I had 6 different teachers for 6 different subjects, about 4 of whom would assign different homework each day. So for instance:

History teacher would assign written responses to a section of our textbook, each student would write their homework by hand and turn it in the next day.

Math teacher would assign a number of problems from the text book; you might work on them in class and finish them if you were fast, but otherwise you'd go home and continue working on the problems from the textbook at home, and would turn in your notebook papers with the problems and answers the next day.

Science teacher would give students a printed worksheet at the end of class, students would take the worksheet home and bring it back completed to turn in the next day.

English teacher would assign reading and you'd do the reading and you might have a pop quiz the next day or you might have some questions to answer on notebook paper to hand in the next day.

Also when I was these ages my school had a rotating schedule. That meant that the 4th-period class stayed the same every day, but rotated otherwise. So class order went like this:

Monday: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6

Tuesday: 2, 3, 5, 4, 6, 1

Wednesday: 3, 5, 6, 4, 1, 2

Thursday: 5, 6, 1, 4, 2, 3

Friday: 6, 1, 2, 4, 3, 5

So if my 3rd period history teacher assigned me homework on Tuesday it had to be turned in during the first class on Wednesday. If my 1st period math teacher assigned homework on Monday, it wasn't due until the end of the day on Tuesday (so I could go work on it in the math teacher's classroom at lunch if I wanted). But if the math teacher assigned homework on Friday it had to be turned in during the first class of the day.

So there was no consistency or routine day to day.

Lunches were also split by age. If you were 11 you had lunch before 4th period. If you were 12 or 13 you had lunch after 4th period.

So, I have no idea if the norms that I experienced are standard for American students now, but I also think there were a lot of very ridiculous things that were standard and I suspect that there are more ridiculous things that are standard now.

[neigepomme]

˙ ✩°˖ ☃️ try again / zayne x reader

synopsis; right person, wrong time, but even after a year, the heartache remains. you looked for him in everyone you met, and so did zayne — but when the universe lets you cross paths again, will it be kind enough to let you try again?

🍎 pomme's notes — i made a playlist for this fic! this is loosely based on jaehyun and d.ear's try again, but all of these songs were played while i was writing and i think they make the reading experience better!! also if there are typos forgive me i finished writing this at 5am oops

✴︎ 5.5k words ⋆ hurt/comfort ⋆ set in a world with no evol (also caleb cameo and zaynecaleb are best friends because i said so) ⋆ fem reader ⋆ 2nd person

it was a snowy december night when you decided to mutually break up.

the night was quiet and so peaceful, but your heart was in turmoil upon seeing his defeated face, and so was his when tears started to fall from your eyes.

it wasn’t always like this though.

you met him in college, he was two years your senior and you’d been taking the same ethics class — one he'd pushed off until his last semester before his residency. always kind and soft-spoken, you eventually got to work on a group project together and when the other people in your team decided to play hooky, zayne was the one to let the professor know and invite you to work together.

he eventually started reaching out to you under the pretense of studying together at a new cafe, only for the both of you to talk endlessly, with no real studying being done. your bashful expression when he'd compliment your new earrings didn't go unnoticed, and you also didn't miss the shy glances followed by a cough when you glanced back.

this went on for two whole months, until you encountered one of zayne's friends, caleb, at a party you both attended. drunk out of his mind, with zayne following in tow (sporting a worried expression that you found quite cute), he spotted you and made a beeline for you. the brunette pointed at you, and spoke with a slurred speech.

"you. you're the girl he's been talking about non-stop right? the cute one from his ethics class? dude, zayne's in looooove with you."

at a loss for words, you glanced at zayne — who was running a hand over his face, clearly flustered out of his mind and trying his best to get caleb to shut up.

the butterflies in your stomach were batting their wings furiously, and your own face started feeling hot. before you could even speak though, caleb spoke again, a little more agitated now.

"poor guy cannot take you off his mind, so for my mental wellbeing, please date him. i can't keep living like this, my ears are gonna fall off if i hear one more thing about you — no offense. if there's an equivalent to the bechdel test for men, we're failing and we're failing haaaaard. all because of him. i'm gonna grab another beer but you've gotta date him. please."

as caleb walked away, you stared at zayne. it was a clumsy indirect admission of feelings, but gosh was it a sweet one. his face burned red, unable to stop his friend from revealing all of that info to you — but it's not like it was a lie. whenever the two of them would hang out, he'd ask caleb for advice on what to wear for your next outing or check whether or not a text you sent him had a hidden message. hell, zayne would text him asking for good date spots to take you to.

running a hand through his hair, zayne watched his friend walk away and cleared his throat before grabbing a hold of your hand, his serious expression not doing much to distract you from the red of his cheeks.

"this wasn't how i planned on letting you know how i feel and asking you out but.. he wasn't really lying."

his cold hand gripped yours a bit more tightly, before he exhaled in a feeble attempt at steadying his nerves.

"i really do like you though, and i'd love to take you out. not as the guy from your ethics class that you're stuck doing a project with, but as your boyfriend."

that's how it started. loving zayne was comfortable. it came as easily as breathing. the late nights he'd spend in your dorm room, reading one of his cardiology textbooks while you slept soundly on his chest were your favorites. no words needed to be exchanged, his heartbeat told you everything you had to know about his love for you.

when you received a job offer from your dream company, zayne was there with a bouquet of your favorite flowers to congratulate you. kissing your face softly and whispering sweetly about how proud he was, and how he knew you'd get in. you melted in his embrace, remembering the times you'd cried in his arms, afraid of being rejected while he held you and gave you soft reassurances.

in return, you were there for him — preparing boxes of snacks for him to keep in his car while he did his residency. his own apartment was left neglected, as he preferred spending nights at your place, sleeping only for a few hours before he went back to the hospital.

it was comfortable when you were still in university, but life caught up with you rapidly. your job was rewarding, but the long hours and the overtime you had to work because of how new you were, drained you.

zayne also had a hard time. his mentor was spread thin, and he had to take on more responsibilities as a resident physician than he'd had to during his internship. coming back home to you was difficult, the shifts seemed never-ending — basically working 24 to 36 hours regularly.

the date nights became more and more sparse. you spoke to each other less and less, not wanting to drain the other further. zayne would spend more time at his place, given that it was closer to the hospital, and you'd be exhausted from the overtime to visit him. he called you during his breaks, but more often than not, he got interrupted by responsibilities or different emergency codes, only being able to talk to you for two minutes at most if he was lucky.

you were having a hard time too. trying your best to text him, but your boss seemed hellbent on making sure you were always hard at work, never allowing you the time to send zayne a quick text. the mandatory overtime was irritating to say the least — always menial tasks that took an infuriating amount of time and that kept you in the office for hours, forcing you to come home late at night. staying up was an almost impossible ask, no matter how much you loved zayne. your eyes practically closed upon entering your home, and you'd forget to wipe your makeup way too many times. the rare times you'd stay awake, he'd have to stay later, because of a young patient having a heart attack or a new admission at the hospital.

it was exhausting, and neither of you were to blame. the universe had made it difficult and you couldn't hold any resentment because you knew how much this job meant to zayne. on the other hand, he also didn't want to ask you to accommodate him — feeling that it'd be unfair to ask you to stay up, knowing just how tired you were.

eventually, it had been enough.

you tried your best to push that feeling down, convincing yourself that you two will be alright, that this is just a hardship that will pass, but it was eating away at you. you missed zayne so much, and this whole thing just wasn't doable. it wasn't sustainable for either of you. when your friend tara said, "right person, wrong time! it's unfortunate, but you can't help it," you never thought it'd apply to you. never in a million years would you have thought that this relationship would be a fleeting thing, that it'd be rendered difficult and heartache inducing. zayne was perfect for you, as you were for him — but whichever divine entity looked down upon you didn't seem to agree. the days seemed to drag on, and you missed your boyfriend so deeply, but life seemed set on making you and zayne exhausted, not even having the time to see one another.

you were the only thing on zayne's mind while he worked. the surgeries never ended, and he just wanted to take a nap in your arms, but his attending seemed keen on making him work until he keeled over. he was so worn out, every single one of his limbs sore, but he still thought about you and how lonely you must feel. this job is his dream, saving people is something he's always yearned to do, but that doesn't take away from the fact that he feels like the worst boyfriend to have ever existed. you never complained, never asked him to abandon his job to spend time with you, and whenever he'd have to cut your calls short, you'd tell him it's okay, your voice laced with an unspoken sadness.

he sometimes wished you'd get angry at him. demand he spend some time with you but you were always understandind and patient. you were too good to him, and zayne felt so selfish. you didn't deserve to wait for him, especially not when you already had so much on your plate with your new job and boss. his conscience weighed on him, and he couldn't let you keep going and be unhappy.

and so, he told his supervisor that there was a personal emergency, and he headed over to your place after sending you a message; one you dreaded but expected in the back of your mind.

"love, we need to talk. i'll come over to your place in 20 mins."

his heart ached upon sending it, and he only wished that your heart hurt less than his — unfortunately it was far from being the case. you had just gotten home when you received the text, and you could already feel tears welling up in your eyes. you knew what was going to follow, but you were exhausted, and you knew he was too. you wanted to fight for this relationship. you loved zayne so much, so desperately, it made your heart hurt, and god, you knew he loved you too. you wanted to fight, but you felt selfish doing so. in your heartbreak, you still cared about him so much. his eyebags were getting more and more pronounced, and there was nothing you could do to take away from his tiredness. at this point, you just wanted him to rest, and if you could take away one thing off his mind at the cost of your own unhappiness, you'd do it.

zayne drove to your place, his hands tight on the steering wheel. he didn't want to do this, but he loves you so much. he loves you so bad, he cannot let you wither away, waiting for him. you deserved the world and he couldn't even give you a full hour without being interrupted by a call from the hospital, or without him desperately needing sleep. he started going through his memory, trying to remember the last time he took you out on a date. the last time he gave you his full attention, the last time he saw you laugh, the last time he made you blush. all these instances seemed so far away, and he couldn't forgive himself for leaving you alone for so long. you deserved too much, and if you could be your bright, joyful self without him by your side, then so be it.

it was snowing outside, so softly. it felt as if the universe was mocking you, as if it interpreted your relationship as an insult towards itself, and was hellbent on getting rid of it. your heart was breaking in anticipation, but the world would keep on moving.

you choke back tears.

no matter how much you wanted the earth to stop spinning, just for a moment with him again, it never would. you were doomed to stride forward, whether you wanted to or not.

the twenty minutes went by at a grueling slow pace, yet it didn't feel like enough time for either of you to prepare for the inevitable. when you hear that familiar rhythmic knock on your door, it suddenly feels like the beginning of the end. there were so many thoughts going through your mind — what if you didn't answer the door? would he still stay by your side? no, that was too cruel. your stomach hurts at the thought of paining him further, and so you stood from the couch where you were sitting and walked towards the door. your whole body felt weighed down when you opened it, only to see zayne — a painful expression painted on his face. he seemed thinner than before, more tired. you wanted to reach up and cradle his face, one last time, but you held back. you couldn't bring yourself to do it.

all he wanted was to hold you in his arms, as tight as he could, and tell you, "we'll be alright, we'll be okay."

you looked so worried about him, it shattered zayne's heart. he couldn't believe you still cared, even after being so worn out from the long work hours. even in your most tired moments, when you looked so fragile, when your eyes held back tears, you still cared about him so much. he didn't want to hurt you, never wanted to — but he'd ended up doing it, and he couldn't keep dragging this on further. he didn't want to tell you how much he loved you, how much it broke him to do this.

when you invite him in, hesitant to hold his hand in fear of your resolve wavering, he refuses. if he took a step inside your home, he wouldn't want to let you go. you look up to stare into his eyes, only for him to shake his head and inhale shakily.

"i'm so sorry. i.. i think we should break up."

you heard his voice. you know what he said. you knew from before, knew it was coming, knew it was inevitable.

you knew, but it still hurt.

it hurt so terribly, and you couldn't even do anything to make it hurt less. you couldn't hate him, couldn't get angry, couldn't scream, couldn't do anything.

trying your best not to let your voice crack, you respond while choking back a sob.

"okay. i'm sorry, zayne."

when the tears started falling from your eyes, zayne wanted to reach out and wipe them away. he loathed to see you cry, but the only thing he loathed more than that at that moment was himself. his throat was closing up, and he wanted to fall to his knees.

he wanted to beg you to get angry.

beg you to love him less.

beg you to hate him.

beg you to do anything that could make it less painful for him to end things with you.

he couldn't do it, though. he could never do it, and he felt like a coward for that. so what did he do? he nodded and spoke one last time before leaving your doorstep.

"i'm so sorry. please, take care of yourself. i can't apologize enough."

as zayne walks back to his car, he has to fight with himself to not look back at you, despite the difficult breathing and the sniffles he hears from you. because if he does, he'll just run back to you. but he wants you to be free from him. free from the burden of his love — so he keeps on walking, biting the inside of his cheek to stop himself from crying.

you look at his back when he walks away.

you only allow yourself to sob once his car pulls out of your apartment's parking lot. the tears are falling freely, each one more painful than the next, and you can't help yourself from wailing, from silently begging him to come back, to tell you that everything is going to be fine, that you shouldn't break up.

sobbing on your doorstep, harder than you've ever cried before, harder than you thought you could ever cry.

one of your neighbor walks out to see you on your knees, and she asks you "what's wrong sweetie? are you hurt?", and you can only cry out that you love him, you love him so much it hurts, that you just want him. she holds you in her arms, tells you it's okay, that you'll be okay, but it's no use.

your heart hurts so bad.

it's not her you want comforting you.

it's zayne.

you want him to hold you tight, to tell you that everything will be okay.

it shouldn't have ended like this. you didn't want it to end like this, and neither did he, but there was nothing either of you could do.

right person, wrong time.

the day after was terrible. you had no choice but to show up to work, despite your voice being hoarse and your eyes being painfully puffy from all the tears you shed the night before.

everything felt off. you didn't text him during your break, and at no point did he call you. 

it made you want to cry again, but you couldn't. you had to be strong because the world kept on spinning, and zayne wouldn't have wanted you to sob for him endlessly — though you were certain that once you got home, you'd start sobbing and pleading for him in your room. 

the day went by quickly. too fast, really. there was just numbness when you were at your desk, something like autopilot mode kicking in. 

when the clock hit 5, and your boss let you go home with no overtime, you felt the tears resurface. the one day you had wished for a distraction, away from your feelings, your boss decided to be considerate. no words were said, though. you packed your bag and walked out. 

the chinese restaurant you went to with zayne was on your way home. the place where he found out he'd gotten matched into a cardiology residency at akso hospital, where he'd stood and hugged you so tightly, in front of onlookers — so unlike his usual self, who shyed away from PDA. he was so happy to share the good news with you, his favorite person. 

the memories resurfaced, and it felt like you could see him in everything you've ever loved. zayne had left a permanent mark on you, and you wanted to hate him for ruining so many things for you, but you couldn't bring yourself to.

you held your tears back during the entire walk home.

maybe you should call tara. do anything to distract you from this. from feeling like a ghost, a shell of yourself without him by your side. you needed to change, to prepare food, to sleep, to work, and to repeat all of this again tomorrow. so with a heavy sigh and an even heavier heart, you opened your closet to grab some comfortable clothes — that was when you saw it.

one of zayne's sweaters, one that he'd given you to wear when you were cold during a date. it still smelled like his cologne, like his jasmine fragrance.

it was unfair. you inhaled sharply and looked up, trying your best to stop the sobs, but it was of no use. 

it still smelled like him.

you grabbed your phone before the tears completely blurred your vision and called tara, all while clutching his sweater to your chest.

“hey babe! you got off work?”

and the sobs resumed. you cried your heart out, desperately asking her, if it was for the best, then why does it hurt so bad? why does it feel like a part of yourself got removed when he walked away? everything seemed like a blur, but you remember the door unlocking and her worried face. hands cradling your face, telling you to let it all out, to cry until you couldn't anymore. that it was okay to hurt. you didn't need to put on a front. you didn't need to look so strong — you could fall apart because you'd build yourself back up.

so you did just that. you cried in her arms. you cried for him, cried at the world, cried at the unfairness of it all. she rocked you back and forth, comfort reminiscent of zayne's arms.

you cried harder than the night before. and you kept on crying every single day for a week.

the months passed by slowly after that. you still didn't text him during your breaks, and he still didn't call you. you still loved him, you still longed for him, but you hoped he was relieved of some burden. maybe he'd finally sleep a little better at night, maybe his eyebags went away, even if you weren't there to see it. you'd be okay eventually, but now wasn't quite the time yet.

following tara's recommendation, you downloaded dating apps. not to properly date anyone, just to take your mind off him, but it proved to be harder than she said. the men you matched with all resembled him slightly. one of them had similar eyes, the other had the same fashion sense, and another had a similar smile. when you talked to them, you tried to find traces of him within their speaking habits. none of them had his dry humor, nor did they have his tender voice or his laugh.

none of them called you to check in between shifts.

none of them were zayne.

dating was off the table when you realized that; maybe you need some more time to yourself? perhaps you need to learn to visit the places you went to with him, get used to going to the cafes you two favored on your own.

your boss wasn't breathing down your neck anymore, so you could spend your next evening visiting that pastry shop zayne adored — the one he'd order macarons from and personally deliver to your home to share with you.

however, each time you told yourself you'd do it, you felt afraid.

afraid of running into him. afraid of seeing him too happy without you by his side. what if he'd already found another woman? someone from the hospital, maybe a nurse or a fellow resident. you wouldn't be able to handle it, so you pushed it off.

"i'll do it tomorrow," you'd tell yourself.

soon, it'll be a whole year without zayne. his birthday was the most difficult day since the night you lost him. funnily enough, you thought you'd be able not to cry, but you missed him even more than before. you had the day off — a PTO you scheduled ahead of the breakup, but now you were just surrounded by the silence. the autumn breeze blew through your window and reminded you of him.

“you'll catch a cold, my love.”

“mmh, the breeze feels so nice, though. but maybe if my favorite snowman hugged me and kept me warm, i'd be okay.”

“sure, darling. i'll keep you warm in my icy embrace and shield you from the cold, won't i?”

you hugged the snowman plushie he'd won you a little tighter upon reminiscing. you cried softly against it, your heart aching again — but you found solace in knowing that he was out here working hard towards his goal. you'd support him from afar, no matter what.

today marked 12 months since the breakup. an entire year.

and today, you were going to visit the pastry shop. you had to get over him, and as painful as it sounded, it had been almost a year, and you had to keep moving. zayne would become a beloved memory, treasured within both your heart and your mind. 

dressed for the weather, you walked towards the quiet cafe but hesitated before opening the door to the establishment. the walk on the way here was familiar, and the pastry shop remained the same way you'd left it when you last visited it with zayne. the same regulars, the same jingle of the bell when you pushed the door open, the same chairs and the same staff. you searched for the seats you'd usually sit at with zayne, and you thought your eyes failed you when you see those familiar hazel eyes looking over the cafe, as if they were waiting for something to happen.

or someone to come in.

he was sitting alone, the same jasmine tea latte on the table in front of him — the one he'd meticulously pour three sugar packets in before stirring counterclockwise for 20 seconds to dissolve the sugar. he looked the same as he did that december night, if only more tired. his eyebags did not go away, it seemed.

gathering all the courage you could muster, you walk towards him. you'd get your closure today no matter what.

but when he looked your way, your steps faltered. his gaze softened, his shoulders slumped a bit, as if he'd let go of some tension he didn't know he held. zayne smiled, and you had to hold back from jumping into his arms, telling him how much you'd missed him. he spoke softly, as if afraid to disturb you — as if you'd blow away in the wind, like a dandelion's bristles.

"hi," he'd whisper, his voice as soothing as the day you last heard it.

your breath catches in your throat, and you have to inhale a bit before replying.

“hi, zayne. can i sit here?”

and he nodded, his lips slightly curling upwards. you hoped it was you he was waiting for. maybe he'd wanted to see as much as you did, and maybe he too longed to hold you in his arms. 

you waited for him to speak again, and as if reading your mind, he did. fidgeting a bit in his chair, zayne looked over at you so fondly. 

“how have you been?”

his voice. you missed his voice so much. you missed him asking about you about your day with that tone, that patient and tender, love filled tone. 

"oh i've been.. decent." 

that seemed like a good answer. you weren't good, nor were you fine. you had the man you loved, the man you love, sitting in front of you after close to a year of yearning for him, following the worst heartbreak you had ever experienced. 

“work's been tiring, but my boss stopped breathing down my neck. i get home on time now, with no mandatory overtime. it's okay now. how about you?”

zayne wasn't fine. the hospital took in some new cardiology residents, so the workload calmed down, but he still felt restless without you by his side. he gazed over all of your features, and you looked so beautiful. he missed you to death.

“i'm handling everything okay. we have new attending physicians, so the amount of long shifts has significantly decreased.”

he spoke truthfully, you knew it, but you couldn't make sense of his eyebags if that was the truth. he looked like he's had sleepless nights for months, his eyes tired and not as bright as they used to be. he still looked so charming, though, and you thought to yourself, that it wasn't your place to inquire any further.

the two of you caught up for two hours, akin to old friends having a heartfelt reunion — except you were ex-lovers. ex-lovers who valued the other's happiness over your own, leaving you both miserable but under the impression that the other was doing better without you.

he asked if you dated in the past year, and you shook your head, explaining that you had a hard time and chose to take some time to yourself. zayne didn't need to know you were unable to date because you wanted him. he didn't need to know that you refused to give a chance to anyone who wasn't him, that you looked for him in everyone you met.

secretly, zayne felt relief upon learning that. he wanted you to be happy, of course he did, but selfishly, he wanted to be the one to bring you happiness. in all honesty, he couldn't bring himself to date anyone either. the women around him weren't you. they didn't smile at him the way you did, never cared to learn more about him beyond his face and job, and none of them texted him sweet little love messages to check up on him. you were the only one for him.

you only started heading out when the cafe announced it'd be closing its doors, and even then, neither of you seemed to be in a rush. a strange sense of longing lingered around you both, a warm feeling — something that quietly begged for one more moment spent together.

zayne offered to drive you home, and you took him up on that. the car hummed quietly as you sat in comfortable silence. the last rays of sunlight quickly disappeared, leaving behind them a deep blue night. snowflakes slowly started drifting down from the sky, and you were reminded of that night when you decided to part ways. sooner than you'd hoped, zayne pulled into your apartment's parking lot.

he still knew the way to your place.

if you asked him about it, he'd answer simply. he never forgot, never could bring himself to remove the path to your home from his memory. he'd spent countless nights there, holding you in his arms while he rested before the hospital inevitably called him for a new 36h shift. zayne could never forget the way home. not your apartment, he could never forget the way to you — his real home.

getting out of his car, he walked you to your apartment. soon, you'd have to say goodbye to him, and you grew restless at the thought. it felt like if you said goodbye today, it'd be the last time you'd see him. you didn't want to bother him any longer, nor keep him tied down.

it seemed inevitable, though. it felt like it was last year again when you had to fight tears from falling upon agreeing on breaking up. helpless, unable to speak, and to ask him to stay. unable to be selfish, for once. but what could you do? you just nodded and wished him a goodnight and goodbye. it'd be over soon enough. you'd see his back as he walked away from you for the last time.

you're the first to turn away, focusing your gaze on your doorknob, trying to type in the digits to his birthday to unlock your apartment. the tears rose up, and your eyes were misty again, fog taking over your field of vision. 

it was the end.

zayne took a step back and looked at you. a feeling of doom, helplessness, and fear took over him. he'd let you go a second time, and it'd be the last this time around. no more chances — he'd never get to see your face agaim after this, but if you were happy it was worth it, wasn't it?

he watched you type in your password and heard the familiar jingle when your door unlocked.

it really was the end.

god, he really couldn't do this. he needed to be selfish for once, and he prayed you'd forgive him for it.

before you can take a step inside, you hear him call out your name, and before you can fully process it, you just feel his arms around you. he held you so tightly.

zayne was holding you in his arms. the way he desperately wanted to when he heard you cry a year ago. the way you wished he'd held you a year ago. 

“i'm sorry. i'm selfish. i can't even let you go, so please, please.”

you couldn't stop the sobs that took over your body when you heard him plead for you. you clutched onto his sweater as tight as you could, the smell of jasmine so soothing while you sobbed in his arms. his arms tighten around you when he feels you tremble against him, desperate in the way he shook slightly too.

he spoke again, his voice breaking. more vulnerable than you'd ever heard him before. more raw, full of yearning, longing, desperation and love. so much love.

“i love you. i love you so much, i love you more than life itself.”

zayne kissed the top of your head, soft tears falling down his cheeks while he whispered soft apologies and promises of a future together. he missed you so much. a part of his heart went missing without you next to him. he needed you by his side, as selfish as that made him seem.

“we'll be alright. please, let's try again.”

those words you wanted to hear, so very badly on that night, a year ago. you nodded against his chest, the sobs not showing any signs of stopping.

except this time around, zayne was there to hold you in his arms. two lovers who longed for each other's warmth for a year, finally into each other's embrace again.

it was a snowy december night when you reunited with your love, and you'd never let go this time.

🍎 pomme's final notes — if the zaynejaehyun agenda has a million fans then i am one of them if the zaynejaehyun agenda has one fan it is me and if the zaynejaehyun agenda has no fans i am dead. also i bawled while writing the breakup part don't kick me too hard

also if at any point while reading this fic you wanted to kill me just know that i was probably also wanting to kill myself but hey all's well that ends well am i right :P

[lightseoul]

a/n. it's been a hot minute, y'all. this is inspired by a reel i saw on instagram (@dagirlythang), although i believe this is one of those notorious accounts that reposts content from other creators without proper citation :\ still, credit is due where it's (partially) due. anywho, i haven't written in a WHILE, but i hope this still scratches the itch for some of you. enjoy! (0.6k)

“here, kats.”

from where he’s just put the car in park, bakugou looks at you—first, instinctively—then carefully, his eyebrows furrowing in confusion at the sight of what you’re holding.

his normally crimson eyes that are seeming darker under the dim light of his brand new porsche dart up to meet yours. “the fuck is that?”

you frown at his unexpectedly hostile reaction, although it’s quick to morph into a look of realization when it hits you belatedly.

“shit, sorry,” you half-laugh, half-sputter, hurriedly returning it to your bag before reaching into its depths for your phone. you thumb in your password in almost less than a second, gaze trained on the app as you click it, “i forgot you preferred cashless transactions.”

you’re in the middle of typing in bakugou’s phone number—you’re embarrassed to admit you already have it memorized just two weeks into dating him—when your device is unceremoniously yanked out of your grip—so fast that you could barely squeak in surprise. you whip to face the pro-hero—about to reprimand his ear off for ripping it away from your hands like that—when you catch a glimpse of his features and all the words suddenly die in your throat.

uh oh.

“tell me,” he starts, voice low, and you find yourself gulping despite yourself. “did i buy this car so i can quit hero work and be a driver?”

“…no?”

a scowl. “then why are you treating me like i’m you’re fucking uber?”

you blanch. “i’m not! i just figured i give you some gas money.”

“why the fuck would you send me gas money?”

you know better than to answer that, so you shake your head and ignore the way he’s practically glowering at you, before pulling out the wad of cash from earlier, “is this much okay—”

“you ain’t sending me shit,” bakugou essentially spits—cutting you off—just as he reaches over the console and thrusts your hand back into your wallet.

he’s still gripping onto your phone.

you toss him an exasperated expression.

that earns you an eye roll. “don’t.”

you pout. “why won’t you let me help?”

“this isn’t about help, dumbass,” bakugou drawls, mirroring your irritation. “i won’t be caught dead asking my girlfriend for money.”

you try to breeze past the way he just referred to you as his girlfriend, masking your fluster with a scoff. “so it’s a pride thing now?”

the ash-blonde sneers. “more like the bare fucking minimum.”

to that, you snort, although you can’t fight the smile that tugs at your lips. “easy for you to say, rich guy.”

“watch it,” he warns, and you break into a laugh, then laugh harder when his mouth wobbles in a sorry attempt to keep a stern face.

that grants you a playful punch to the shoulder, which you take in stride, still chuckling. soon enough, the air falls into a quiet lull with neither of you making a move to get out and into your apartment’s parking lot. this goes on for a few beats, before bakugou finally breaks the silence.

“p-promise me.”

bewildered, you glance at the pro-hero, who’s looking straight ahead onto the wall beyond the car. “promise you what?”

he swallows, as if nervous. “that you’ll get used to this.”

your eyes widen, suddenly speechless. the urge to ask him what he means by ‘this’ quickly surfaces—something tells you it’s more than just him spending on you—albeit dies down just as swiftly. the last thing you want is to ruin the moment.

instead, you settle with peering at him curiously for another minute, before: “…do i have a choice?”

at that, bakugou turns to you, grinning. “nah.”

˖⁺‧₊ as always, reblogs, replies, and tags are appreciated <3 feel free to drop an ask, too—i'd love to chat with you. have a nice day!

tagging. @bunnysaursushii @yawnzzzzzzzz @cholios @kashee-h @iluv-ace @lotuslovers @elarakive @touyas-moon @napbatata @k0z3me @h0ngh0ngh0ng @honeyoru @yoongiwithglasses @hellokitty-doll @lilsebnem @tetsuukuroo @crangrapel0ver @syrhra @qyuin @lotusstarr

[swoo-bats]

Tucker didn't think he'd ever be interacting with one of the Big Bosses. Glimpses of them in the lobby, hallways, other work areas, sure; that's how he got in on the open secret, after all. A few too many times of the Waynes showing up to work with injuries that didn't really coincide with the "skiing accident" or whatever they claimed it to be. But Tucker, familiar with Danny's tendencies to hide his own injuries, knows what to look for.

After getting a little suspicious, Tucker started paying more attention to the Bats. He religiously followed social media posts. Twitter was a hot bed for sightings and Tiktok was great for seeing clips of fights. And after a few weeks of paying close attention to social media and any local celebrity gossip as well as the short sightings at work, Tucker can definitively say that Bruce Wayne is Batman and Tim Drake-Wayne is Red Robin.

Though he had to put in the work, he figured that with observation of the more obvious injuries and work absences over a long period of time, any Wayne Enterprises employee would come to the same conclusion. He just sped up the process a bit in his unrelenting curiosity. It must be an open secret like Danny's identity in Amity Park; people are being polite by not talking about it.

He even confirmed his speculation with his coworkers. At lunch he had casually mentioned to Jamie, a fellow systems engineer, "With what the Waynes get up to, I'm surprised they're actually at work as often as they are."

To which she eagerly replied, "Right?! They're probably so tired all the time. If I did what they did, I'd be calling out super often." She tilted her head back and forth, considering. "Though I don't have the money for that."

Two other coworkers nearby also joined in, commenting on how the Waynes are so rich, it's not really a surprise what shenanigans they get up to. Tucker nodded along, excited now that his suspicions were basically confirmed.

So when he had heard two guys in the alley outside of his apartment talking about a big drug shipment (do people really think no one will hear them if they talk in echoey alleys?), he figured he could pass it on to the Bats. Just slip a post-it into a file that's getting sent up to their office, no problem.

Safe to say, Tucker was not expecting to be called up to talk with them. Did they want more information about the drug shipment? He already wrote down everything he knew! Or... oh no, he hopes that they don't think he's involved with those guys. He walks out of the elevator, hoping he looks like a normal employee and isn't giving off, like, criminal vibes or whatever. He knows he's not guilty of anything, that this is definitely one of those scenarios like "oh shit, what if I accidentally brought a gun to the airport?" where the anxiety obviously doesn't come from any rational place. But he is still excited to meet them for real. They're heroes! The only other hero Tucker has ever met is Danny and he doesn't really count.

He makes his way to the secretary at the desk in front of the office doors and says that he was asked to come up to talk. They confirm his name with his employee ID and let him through.

The first thing Tucker notices is that the office is way less cool than he thought it'd be. It's a little bland, honestly. He wasn't expecting, like, a Batman costume to just be displayed in the room, but typical office gray is what meets his eyes.

The second thing he notices is that Tim Drake-Wayne is the only other one in the room. Tucker guesses that makes sense, he heard Batman got a nasty hit over the head last night, so he's probably taking care of his concussion or head wound or whatever.

Tim gestures for him to take a seat in one of the chairs in front of the desk. Tucker does. It isn't a comfortable chair.

"So Mr. Foley, I was wondering if you could explain why you passed on a note involving a drug deal to me."

"Well, sir, I figured this was the most direct way I had to pass on some information to the Bats. I don't know anything more than what I wrote on there, though."

Tim's expression turns confused. "Why would you think I have a method of communication with the Bats?"

Tucker's own face becomes confused. Are they still pretending they both don't know that the other knows? "Why wouldn't you?"

Tim blinks. "Although they may have... saved me... from kidnappings a couple of times," he says very reluctantly, "I definitely do not have direct contact with the Bats. I suggest you find another way to contact them." He finishes, pushing the note towards Tucker.

Mind running, Tucker picks up his note. Why keep denying it? Unless he thinks that Tucker's gonna tell someone? But it's already an open secret in the building, so why worry about that? Maybe he doesn't want any rogues going after WE employees and targeting them since they know the Bats' identities? But how would the rogues find out what the employees know? Everyone is pretending they don't know, since it's an open secret and everything...

Understanding dawns on Tucker's face. Plausible deniability! If Tim confirms his identity to Tucker, who knows who Tucker could tell. If the Waynes never outright confirm it then they can decry anyone who blabs as making it up. Tucker nods.

"Ah, I see, sir. I'll definitely make sure to pass it on correctly this time." Tucker puts the note in a pocket of his slacks. When he looks back up, Tim looks skeptical. "Anything else you need to discuss?"

"You didn't answer my earlier question. Why did you think I had a way to communicate with the Bats?"

Tucker runs a few answers through his mind and picks the least plausible one. "I've never seen you or Mr. Wayne in the same place as the Bats."

Tim's expression turns bewildered and Tucker holds back a laugh. This guy is a pretty good actor, though Tucker's answer was pretty funny too. Too bad "the butts match" isn't a joke he can make in a work setting.

"I'm sure you haven't seen most people together with the Bats though? Why us?" Tim questions.

For a moment Tucker wonders why Tim's dragging the explanation out, but he knows this building is full of security cameras and whatnot. One of Batman's enemies might be like Technus and be able to get to this footage.

'Wow, he's thorough,' he thinks.

Tucker shrugs, "Celebrities are more interesting to gossip and form theories around." He pauses and scrambles to add, "Not that I'm gossiping about you and Mr. Wayne or anything! I just mean in general, celebrities have to deal with more gossip because they're assumed to be more interesting than average people."

He watches Tim's face until it eases into something more neutral. Tucker really hopes he didn't just talk himself out of his job.

"Ah. I see. That's all then, you can go."

Tucker sighs in relief. "Thank you, sir." He stands and takes his leave. In the elevator back to his floor Tucker wonders if he should actually send the note again or if that's redundant since he knows they already got it.

Well, he may as well look for an alternate method of communication in case something like this happens again.

---

Tim watches Tucker Foley exit his office and his racing mind is full of questions about the man. He was definitely lying about the "same room" excuse, there's no way he would be working in system engineering if that was the extent of his logical reasoning ability. Tim wants to know what actually made him suspicious to Foley, why he thought that Tim could easily communicate with the Bats.

The preliminary research paints a picture of a man wanting to get out of his hometown and live in the big city. His hometown is a city itself, so he was probably looking for something new and exciting. And nothing screams exciting like Gotham.

The interesting part of this research is that Amity Park's main tourist attraction is their supposed haunted city and ghost hero. Who fights other ghosts. Tim rolls his eyes at the obvious gimmick. But more research proves the hero to be real, whether he's a ghost remains to be seen. Though it seems like the city's opinion was the complete opposite when the hero first appeared, lumping him in with the other "ghosts." That early information is hard to find, just sparse blog posts about "Phantom" and the occasional facebook post made by complaining residents. In fact, all of their digital newspapers only seem to go back a few years. If it was only a couple papers it wouldn't be weird, but all of them have nothing earlier than five years ago.

No wait, he needs to focus on Foley. Find out what he thinks he knows. And he can't have the other Bats look into him either because then Foley will know for sure that Tim is connected to them. So a trawl through his digital footprint it is, then.

He can't get through the security.

Tim is frustrated, at home on his own computer trying to access Foley's tech and nothing he's doing is working. If Foley did this himself then Tim is glad he's working for WE because he is having difficulties getting through the security. He scowls at the screen.

As Red Robin he's on par with Oracle with their tech knowledge. So there's no reason why he can't do this. He just needs to persevere.

Two hours later finds Tim angrily looking for more information on Amity Park. Is it secretly a tech haven? Could it rival Silicon Valley for their advancements in cybersecurity? He finds a few engineers located in the city but none of them are listed as cybersecurity or any related fields. One listing has him pausing when he sees "ecto-tech engineers" next to a name. The Fentons. What the hell is ecto-tech?

The Fentons' website is cringe-inducing, but he scans through their bright-colored pages and comes away not knowing whether or not this technology could be used to amp up someone's cybersecurity. Though it definitely could amp up someone's building security, given that you were trying to secure it from ghosts. Tim sighs.

Are these even real engineers? This has to be part of the city's ghost tourism attraction, right? But on the Fentons' About page, they do list degrees from the University of Wisconsin in... ectobiology? Tim wants to slam his head against his desk. What the hell is up with this city?

Tucker gets a job at Wayne Enterprises, and instantly clocks Bruce and Tim and Batman and Red Robin (and thus by extension figures out the rest of the family).

But since he figured it out so easily, he assumes it’s an open secret that everyone knows but keeps on the down-low for privacy and whatnot. After all, that’s what Danny’s identity had been like by the time they all graduated. Basically everyone in town knew unless the feds were asking. Because those white-suited government bastards can Fuck Right Off.

And thus, when he later finds an important potential lead on something, he doesn’t think much of just… handing it off to them to deal with. Yeah, he’s temporarily breaking the illusion, but it’s not that big of a deal.

Needless to say, Tim vehemently disagrees with that assessment, and is now deeply invested in finding out what the hell is up with his employee and his weirdly secretive hometown.

[binisainz]

lucky taps ⸻ 𐙚 ⸻ carlos sainz x reader

word  count.   2.8k feat.   established  relationship,  fluff,  semi-long  distance,  labubu  hate author's  note.   binisainz  finally  having  a  cs55  fic  up  ??  i  never  thought  i'd  live  to  see  the  day  !!  anyways,  this  is  based  on  this  photo  of  carlos  carrying  a  popmart  bag  in  shanghai  and  i  was  like.  ok  bet.  i  am  exposing  my  love  for  popmart  blind  box  figurines…  i  have  spent  too  much  on  these  mfs  so  i  might  as  well  make  a  fic  out  of  it  !!  dedicated  to  the  lovely  kae  ( @tsunodaradio  ) because  they  suggested  the  ending  and  i  was  like…  no  ure  right  …  ure  so  right  . anyway qotd what do u think carlos sainz is collecting check out the rest of my work !!

carlos comes home the same way he always does— keys clattering into the dish by the front door, a deep sigh like he’s clocking out of being carlos sainz and back into being just yours.

“mi amor?” his voice drifts in, laced with just the slightest bit of confusion.

“yes?” you don’t look up from your phone, lazily stretched out on the couch, one leg bent at the knee, fingers absently tapping at the screen.

you hear him step closer, the shift of his weight across the hardwood, the quiet pause that comes before— “why is there a little… scarecrow on the coffee table?”

that makes you glance up, just in time to see the small furrow in his brow, the way his mouth presses slightly at the corners. you shift, propping yourself up on your elbow to follow his gaze.

“that’s my hirono,” you say simply, as if that explains everything.

carlos blinks at you, then at the figurine, then back at you again. “your what?” he asks as he bends down, takes the figurine in his hands, turning it over carefully, examining the details. he treats it like something delicate, like maybe it’ll break if he looks at it too hard.

“hirono,” you repeat, dragging out the syllables, already predicting the conversation to come. “it’s a blind box figurine. you buy it without knowing which one you’re gonna get.”

his brows draw together, deeper this time, the gears in his head visibly turning. you can see the exact moment it clicks— there’s a small flash of realization, the barest twitch of his lips. “so you just… pay for it and hope you get the one you want?” he asks, skeptical.

you grin, shrugging. “pretty much.”

he huffs out a laugh, shaking his head as he sets the figurine back down with the same measured care. “you could just buy the one you want,” he points out, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

“where’s the fun in that?” you shoot back, sitting up fully now, tucking your legs beneath you. “it’s about the thrill. the suspense.”

he looks at you, the soft tilt of his head betraying the fact that he’s still trying to wrap his head around it. “so you like not knowing?”

you hum, considering. “more like… i like the moment before, you know? when it could be anything.”

carlos watches you for a beat longer, then shakes his head again, a small, affectionate smile tugging at his lips. “you are impossible,” he mutters, but there’s no real exasperation in his tone, only fondness. then, without hesitation, he leans down, cupping your jaw gently as he presses a soft, lingering kiss to your lips, as he’s done a thousand times before.

a few days later, you come home with two more boxes, setting them down on the kitchen counter with a flourish. carlos, sitting at the island with a half-eaten banana in one hand, eyes them with mild suspicion.

“again?”

you huff. “yes, again. but this time, you’re doing it with me.”

he chews slowly, watching you like you’ve just presented him with some grand experiment. then he swallows, licking a bit of banana off his thumb. “what am i supposed to do?”

“first,” you say, grabbing a box, turning it to its side where twelve colorful iterations of the same character are drawn, “we have to pick which ones we want.” you tap one illustration, and then the next. “i want the mantel clock or the circus one.”

he barely glances at the options before pointing decisively at the secret figurine.

you snort. “that one has, like, a one in a hundred forty-four chance.”

he shrugs. “so?”

so, nothing. he’s already made up his mind. and you know him— you know he’s stubborn enough to manifest his own luck, to tilt the universe in his favor through sheer force of will.

“okay, but now we have to do lucky taps,” you say, passing him his box.

his brows furrow. “what?”

you demonstrate, tapping your fingers rhythmically along the sides of your own box. “it’s for good luck. you have to do it.”

carlos stares at you for a moment, unimpressed, then down at his box. he exhales, then mimics your movement, albeit a little clumsily, his fingertips drumming against the cardboard. “this is silly.”

“yeah, but now you’re invested. committed, even.”

you grab your phone, setting it up to record. “okay, let’s do this.”

the sound of crinkling plastic fills the space as you both peel open your boxes. you pull yours out first. a tiny alien stares back at you. your face immediately drops.

“ugh,” you groan, sagging against the counter. “literally the only one i didn’t want.”

carlos makes a sound, half-laugh, half-smug amusement, as he inspects his own. you glance at him, then do a double-take.

he’s holding the secret figurine.

you jaw drops, eyes quickly darting from looking at him, at it, at him again. “are you kidding me?”

his expression shifts slowly into that familiar smugness, the kind that makes you want to shove him. he inspects the figurine like it’s some grand prize, turning it between his fingers, lips curving into a grin. “i thought this was supposed to be rare,” he says, all false innocence.

“it is,” you grumble, crossing your arms. “but of course you would get it.”

carlos sets his box down on the counter, hand reaching out to pull you closer. “mi amor,” he murmurs, his voice dipping just enough to make something curl in your stomach. his hands find your waist, fingers pressing lightly, teasing. “don’t be upset.”

“i’m not upset,” you huff, but you are pouting, and you know it, and he knows it, and he’s enjoying this far too much.

“you can have it,” he offers. “would that make you feel better?”

you exhale, slow, exaggerated. “it’s not as good as pulling it myself,” you admit, just a little petulant, but then you soften, leaning into him despite yourself. “…but okay.”

he laughs, pressing a kiss to your temple, and just like that, the loss doesn’t sting quite as much.

at first, it’s funny. cute, even. carlos, for all his teasing, starts showing a little too much interest in your blind boxes. it begins small—offhand questions here and there, the way he lingers just a second longer when you’re opening a new one, watching your reaction like he’s pretending not to care. but then it escalates.

he gets way too into it. concerningly into it.

it’s not long before you catch him scrolling through an online store at breakfast, staring at the thumbnail images of different collections with a furrowed brow like he’s analyzing race data. another time, you hear him mutter something about “box weight ratios” under his breath while holding one up at a shop.

the moment you call him out, he waves it off, says he’s just doing it for you. “you like them, no?” he says, kissing the side of your head like that’s the end of the conversation. “i just want you to get the ones you like.”

except, somehow, the ones you like aren’t the only ones he’s getting.

the 2025 season starts, and it doesn’t take long for fans to catch on. one race weekend, he’s photographed carrying a popmart bag in the hotel lobby. the next, someone spots him in the paddock, a tiny figurine peeking out from his backpack. the internet is quick— memes start to circulate, threads pop up analyzing every single one of his figurine choices. he keeps claiming it’s for you. he really does. but you know better.

“mi amor,” he complains one night, sprawled out on the hotel couch beside you, scrolling through a list of upcoming releases. it’s one of the rare times you join him for a grand prix. “all your hironos look the same.”

you gasp, smacking his arm. “excuse me?”

“they do,” he insists, grinning when you glare at him. “little hats, little sad faces… no difference.”

you roll your eyes. “okay, mister ‘i only buy these for you.’”

he huffs out a laugh, still very much pretending he’s doing this entirely out of love for you. but you bide your time, waiting for the perfect moment to strike.

and it comes, two weeks later, when he’s japan, and you’re on a late-night video call together. he’s lounging in his hotel room, hair still damp from a shower, dressed in one of his old team shirts. you’re curled up in bed, listening to him ramble about his day when something on his bedside table catches your attention.

a fucking labubu box.

your eyes narrow. “oh, so you say my hironos all look the same, but you like labubus now?”

carlos freezes, eyes darting to the box behind him like he forgot it was even there. then, without missing a beat, he leans forward, grabbing it and holding it up to the camera. “but, mi amor, look! they have different colors!”

“oh, and my hironos don’t?”

he shakes his head, clearly enjoying himself. “not like these, no.”

you let out an exaggerated, scandalized gasp, dramatically flopping back against your pillows. “i can’t believe this betrayal. all this time, i thought you were supporting me, but now you’ve chosen a side— and it’s the opposing side, mind you!”

carlos chuckles, setting the box back down, his voice dropping just slightly—playful, teasing. “you love me anyway.”

and, well. he’s right.

it turns into a thing. somehow.

your comments section floods with people asking for your favorite figurines, demanding to know which sets you’re into. you give them a list, thinking nothing of it, just casually mentioning your favorites. but by the next race weekend, fans are already showing up with those exact figurines, handing them to carlos at every turn. multiple people. at different times.

there’s a video you find later of him grinning, holding up one of the boxes, murmuring a— “thank you! mi corazón would love these…”

the last part, the way his voice drops into something softer, something warm, plays on loop in your head as you scroll through tiktok later that night. you hover over the like button for half a second before giving in, adding a comment:

yourusername   i do like it! please make sure he doesn’t hog it all to himself 😀

the internet, as per usual, goes crazy.

carlos is in miami, and you’re in monaco, which means the time zone gods are, once again, are against you. it’s late— too late— but your phone rings anyway, and you already know what this is about before you even pick up.

you rub at your eyes, propping your phone up on the pillow as carlos holds up his latest haul to the camera, grinning. “look, mi amor,” he says, adjusting the lighting so you can properly see. “i found peach riot!”

you squint. “you don’t even like peach riot.”

he waves you off. “sí, sí, but they had them at the store, and i had to try.”

you groan, shifting deeper under the covers. you know exactly what this is. it’s not about the figurines, not really—it’s about the thrill, the rush of unboxing something, the chase for the rarest one.

carlos digs through the bag, holding up a single box. “okay, i’ll open just one.”

you sigh, heavy with sleep. “baby, it’s almost 2 a.m. for me. can you please just open it?”

he gasps, offended. “well, no! i have to do lucky taps first!”

of course he does. he’s fully committed now.

you watch, exasperated but endeared, as he taps the sides of the box in that almost ritualistic way you taught him— except he’s exaggerating it, dragging his fingertips along the sides with a level of precision that is, quite frankly, unnecessary. he’s doing too much. and yet, you can’t bring yourself to stop him, a soft, tired smile on your lips.

“okay, okay,” he murmurs, hyping himself up before finally peeling off the plastic wrap and tearing the foil packet open. you blink, barely able to keep your eyes open, as he peers inside. his expression shifts—eyebrows jumping, mouth parting slightly before curling into an all-too-smug grin.

he flips the figurine around to show you. the secret. your smile immediately drops.

you let out a long, suffering groan before immediately hanging up the call.

curse you, boyfriend luck!

he calls back not even a minute later.

you answer, squinting at him through the screen, still burrowed under your blanket. carlos, barely holding back laughter, holds up the figurine again. “corazón,” he coos, all sweet and coaxing. “do you want it?”

you glare. “it’s not the same if i don’t pull it myself.”

he pouts, tilting his head. “but i’ll give it to you.”

you bury your face into your pillow, groaning again.

monaco feels different when carlos is home. the apartment, normally so quiet when he's away, hums with the warmth of him— his shoes by the door, his jacket slung carelessly over the couch, the scent of his cologne lingering in the air. it’s a race weekend, and for the first time in what feels like forever, you’re both in the same city again.

it also means carlos is finally seeing, with his own eyes, just how out of hand things have gotten.

a small corner of the living room— what used to be an empty space, clean and minimalist— is now home to a shelf. a full - on shelf. dedicated entirely to the growing collection of figurines you and carlos have amassed over the past few months. rows and rows and rows of figurines now meticulously arranged by series.

you stare at it, arms crossed, lips pursed. carlos, standing beside you, mirrors your stance, rubbing his chin like he’s assessing a piece of fine art.

a long silence stretches between you before you finally say it: “…are we addicted?”

carlos tilts his head, considering. then, without missing a beat— “no.”

you shoot him a look.

he grins. “just committed.”

the blind box obsession wanes, thankfully, though it's not out of disinterest but out of practicality. the season is in full throttle now, the races stacking up one after another, and you’ve been following carlos around the last few stops, which means any new purchases would just be another thing to stuff into an already overpacked suitcase. there’s no time to carefully stack boxes into the shelf back home.

which is why, when you open your eyes on your birthday in your las vegas hotel suite and find a blind box set sitting in front of you, you burst out laughing.

carlos, kneeling in front of you on the couch, looks incredibly pleased with himself. “feliz cumpleaños, mi amor,” he says, watching you with that warm, expectant gaze of his.

“oh my god,” you breathe out, picking up the box, flipping it over in your hands. “carlos.”

it’s not just any blind box set. it’s custom. you look at the packaging, the familiar yet unfamiliar design, and then you see it—your name, carlos’ name, and little illustrated versions of you both printed on the side, mimicking the style of an official collection.

upon closer inspection, the potential figurines include versions of you in your favorite outfits, carlos in his williams race suit, casual wear, even one of him holding a miniature trophy from when he finished p1 in barcelona. there’s even a secret edition, blurred out in a question mark like a real chase figurine.

you blink at it, overwhelmed, before looking up at him. “you got us made into blind boxes?”

carlos grins.

“how?”

“i have my ways.” he shrugs.

“you have a full racing calendar.”

he shrugs, like organizing a fully custom blind box production in the middle of a title fight is just a casual side project. “i planned ahead.”

you shake your head, flipping the box around in disbelief. “you’re actually insane.”

“open one.”

you tear into the packaging, ripping the foil open with probably more force than necessary. the little figurine falls into your palm, and when you turn it over, you nearly lose it. it’s you, down to the details of the outfit you wore the first time carlos ever took you to the paddock, your hair styled just right, the tiny features painstakingly accurate, even if it's just a stylized version of you.

you stare at it, and carlos leans in, nudging your shoulder. “cute, no?”

“carlos.”

“hmm?”

you exhale, shaking your head, but you can’t stop smiling. “this is insane.”

he leans back against the couch, smug. “you love it.”

you narrow your eyes at him. “don’t act like you didn’t make yourself the secret edition.”

his expression doesn’t change. “i am a rare find.”

you shove him, and he laughs, catching your wrist, tugging you into him. “okay, okay,” he concedes, pressing a kiss to your temple, his voice softer now. “but i wanted to give you something special. something just for you.”

you glance down at the box, the tiny, perfect versions of you both, and something warm settles in your chest. you shake your head, exhaling through a smile. “you really are addicted.”

carlos grins, tilting his head. you’re already leaning in, just slightly, like he’s some gravitational pull you’ve long since stopped resisting.

 he meets you halfway, his breath fanning against your lips as he murmurs— soft, smug, as he goes: “eh, just committed.”

[mahalachives]

hi!! i don't if requests are still upon but if you're free can you please write one where the reader is azriel's mate and they've been together for a while and the IC knows, and at one dinner they find out that she used to be like, a party animal and kinda a maneater and they're totally shocked bcs shes so calm and composed now.

and then the next night the girls ask her for like tips to reject guys and stuff like 'what's the most offensive thing you've said to a man?' or 'how to reject men?'

really sorry if its too long!!

The Shadow's Mate: A Past Revealed

pairing: azriel x f!reader

genre: slice of life, fluff

The evening air was crisp as you made your way to the townhouse with Azriel, his shadows curling affectionately around your wrists. Six months since the mating bond had snapped into place, and still the Inner Circle dinners filled you with a mixture of joy and mild anxiety.

"You're quiet tonight," Azriel murmured, his hazel eyes searching yours."

You smiled up at him. "Just thinking."

His scarred hand squeezed yours gently. "About?"

"How different life is now." You leaned into his warmth. "And how much I prefer it."

Azriel's mouth quirked up at the corner, that small smile that only you could coax from him. "As do I."

The townhouse was already alive with chatter and laughter when you arrived. Feyre and Rhys were locked in what appeared to be a spirited debate about some painting technique, while Cassian and Nesta were arguing over knife-throwing techniques. Mor and Amren were deep in conversation about some jewelry merchant in the Rainbow.

"Finally," Cassian called out, grinning broadly as you both entered. "We thought we'd have to start without you."

"Some of us respect punctuality," Nesta remarked dryly, but there was no real bite to her words.

Dinner began as it always did – with wine flowing freely and conversation bouncing from topic to topic. Azriel kept his usual quiet vigil, though his shadows occasionally danced toward you, a secret gesture of affection that never failed to make your heart flutter.

"So," Mor said, refilling her wine glass for the third time, her cheeks flushed with a rosy glow, "I ran into the most awful male at Rita's last night. He tried to convince me his father owned half the Night Court."

"What did you tell him?" Elain asked, her eyes bright with curiosity.

Mor's grin was wicked. "That I'd introduce him to my cousin, the High Lord, and see if that checked out."

Laughter rippled around the table, and you couldn't help but join in.

"I swear, the males in this city are getting more ridiculous with their approaches," Mor continued, rolling her eyes. "Remember that one who tried to impress me by claiming he could outfly an Illyrian?"

"Did you dare him to try?" you asked before you could stop yourself, a hint of your old mischief slipping through.

Cassian barked a laugh. "I would have paid good money to see that."

"When I was at the Court of Nightmares," Feyre added, swirling her wine, "the number of propositions I received was absurd. One male offered me a collection of 'rare' paintings that were such obvious forgeries I nearly laughed in his face."

Something about the conversation loosened something inside you—a reminder of a different time, a different you.

"At least forgeries show some effort," you said, taking a sip of your wine. "I once had a male offer to buy me a drink with money he'd just borrowed from me."

The table fell momentarily silent, and you realized everyone was staring at you with varying degrees of surprise. Even Azriel's brows had inched up slightly.

"What?" you asked, suddenly self-conscious.

"You've never mentioned... dating before Azriel," Elain said delicately.

You glanced at your mate, who was watching you with that unreadable expression that had first drawn you to him. But there was a curious glint in his eyes now.

"Oh, I didn't date," you clarified with a casual wave. "Dating implies some level of commitment."

Cassian choked on his wine. Nesta patted his back, though her eyes never left you.

"You mean you..." Mor began, leaning forward with newfound interest.

"Had a rather active social life? Yes." You shrugged, a smile tugging at your lips. "Is that surprising?"

"Considering how you nearly fainted when Cassian made that joke about bedposts last month..." Rhys trailed off, his violet eyes dancing with amusement.

"That wasn't embarrassment," you corrected him. "That was me trying not to laugh at how tame it was."

Azriel's shadows curled with what you recognized as amusement, though his face remained mostly impassive.

"You're so... composed," Feyre said, gesturing vaguely in your direction. "So..."

"Proper?" you offered, and couldn't help but laugh. "I wasn't always. Before I moved to Velaris, I spent decades in the Autumn Court border towns. You develop certain... skills to navigate those environments."

"Skills," Amren repeated, her silver eyes gleaming with approval. "I bet you have stories."

"More than you'd believe," you admitted, feeling oddly liberated. You'd kept this part of yourself tucked away, unsure how it would fit with the dignified Inner Circle. Now you wondered why you'd bothered.

"Like what?" Cassian pressed, looking far too eager.

You caught Azriel's eye. His expression was one you knew well—silent encouragement, absolute acceptance.

"Well," you began, leaning forward conspiratorially, "there was the time I convinced three different males they were meeting me for a private rendezvous, only to have them all show up at the same tavern, at the same table..."

"No," Mor gasped delightedly.

"Oh yes. They were all from prominent Autumn Court families who were business rivals. I simply left them to figure it out while I slipped away with a rather expensive bottle of wine from behind the bar."

The table erupted in laughter, and something in your chest loosened even further.

"Why?" Nesta asked, a gleam of approval in her eyes.

"One of them had been particularly cruel to a friend of mine," you explained. "The other two were just collateral damage. And terrible flirts."

"I can't believe we never knew this about you," Feyre said, shaking her head in wonder.

You shrugged. "It wasn't relevant. That was before... everything." Your eyes drifted to Azriel.

"Before you tamed our shadowsinger?" Cassian teased.

You and Azriel exchanged a look that made Rhys clear his throat awkwardly.

"I wouldn't say 'tamed,'" you replied with a small smile.

"I think that's enough details for dinner," Rhys declared, though he was grinning.

The conversation shifted to other topics, but you could feel the occasional curious glances from the others. It was strange to have this part of yourself exposed, but not entirely unpleasant.

Later, as you and Azriel prepared to leave, he pulled you close in the quiet of the townhouse foyer.

"You never cease to surprise me," he murmured, his breath warm against your ear.

"Does it bother you?" you asked, suddenly uncertain. "Knowing I was so..."

"Free?" he offered. "Independent? Formidable?" His scarred fingers traced your cheek. "Why would I be bothered by the woman you were? She led you to me."

Your heart swelled as his lips found yours in a gentle kiss that quickly deepened into something more urgent.

"Take me home, shadowsinger," you whispered against his mouth.

His shadows enveloped you both, and the last thing you heard before the darkness swept you away was Cassian's distant whoop of approval.

The following evening found you at Rita's, surrounded by the females of the Inner Circle. It had been Mor's idea—a "girls' night" she'd called it, though you suspected it was partially motivated by her desire to hear more about your previous life.

"So," Mor began after your second round of drinks, confirming your suspicions, "most offensive thing you've ever said to a male?"

You laughed, shaking your head. "That's a high bar."

"We have time," Nesta said dryly, though her eyes sparkled with interest.

You considered for a moment. "Probably when I told a particularly persistent suitor that I'd rather mate with one of the naga than endure another minute of his company."

Elain's eyes widened while Feyre and Mor dissolved into laughter.

"That's brutal," Feyre managed between giggles.

"He deserved it," you replied with a shrug. "He had grabbed my wrist when I tried to walk away."

"What happened?" Amren asked, sipping her blood-red wine.

"Let's just say he learned that not all females need Illyrian warriors to protect them." You smiled sweetly, and Nesta clinked her glass against yours in solidarity.

"I need your expertise," Mor declared, leaning forward. "Best way to reject a male without causing a scene?"

"Depends on the male," you replied thoughtfully. "For the entitled ones, nothing works better than complete indifference. Act as if they're invisible. They hate that more than outright rejection—it wounds their pride more deeply."

"Noted," Feyre said, looking impressed.

"For the genuinely decent ones who just aren't right for you," you continued, "honesty works best. A simple 'I'm flattered, but no' with direct eye contact."

"What about the handsy ones?" Nesta asked, her expression darkening at some memory.

"Ah, those." You leaned back in your chair. "Public embarrassment is effective. Loudly ask if they're feeling alright after that unfortunate rash cleared up. Works every time."

Elain nearly choked on her drink.

"What about the ones who just won't take no for an answer?" Feyre asked.

"That's when you employ the 'bait and switch,'" you explained. "Pretend to give them your address, but actually direct them to the most unpleasant location you can think of. In the Autumn Court, I once sent a particularly awful male to what I claimed was my private cottage. It was actually the local waste collection site."

Mor's head fell back as she howled with laughter. Even Amren's lips curled into an appreciative smile.

"You're a menace," Feyre said admiringly.

"Was," you corrected with a small smile. "Now I'm a perfectly respectable mate to a High Lord's shadowsinger."

"Speaking of," Nesta said with uncharacteristic curiosity, "how did you and Azriel actually get together? I can't imagine him navigating the games you used to play."

"He didn't have to," you said softly. "That's why it worked. He saw through everything—all the walls, all the games. He just... waited."

"That sounds like Az," Feyre murmured.

"It was terrifying," you admitted. "Someone who could see the real me when I'd spent so long hiding her."

"And now?" Elain asked gently.

You smiled, thinking of the quiet understanding that had grown between you and Azriel, the safety you'd found in his shadows.

"Now I don't have to play games anymore. It's... peaceful."

"Cauldron save me," Mor groaned dramatically. "Az has domesticated you."

"Oh, I wouldn't say that," you replied with a wicked grin that made even Nesta raise her eyebrows. "Some skills never fade."

Later, when you arrived home to find Azriel waiting, his shadows reached for you before he did—always so eager, so honest in their affection.

"Did you have a good evening?" he asked, pulling you close.

"Enlightening," you replied, wrapping your arms around his neck. "They think you've tamed me."

His low chuckle rumbled through his chest. "Should I tell them it's the other way around?"

"Let them wonder," you whispered, standing on tiptoe to brush your lips against his. "Some mysteries are worth keeping."

As his wings enfolded you both in a cocoon of shadow and starlight, you silently thanked the Cauldron for leading you here—from the wild, guarded creature you'd been to someone who could finally be herself, completely and without fear, in the arms of a male who cherished every version of you that had ever existed.

End.

Note: hope you enjoyed! I had fun writing this. ❤️

[fiction-is-the-new-reality]

fools in love

word count: 2k

summary: you and Mark have been friends for the past 12 years and have been in love with each other for 10 of them. It really sucks that you two are idiots. Luckily, your competitiveness brings you together. Finally. (@sobbingscripter, your talk about friends-to-lovers with Mark caused this to come to me like a prophecy.)

It had been a slow day of crime, with no alien invasion or monstrosity taking hold of Earth. For once, it was a normal day, and Mark wasn't wasting a second of it. 

Because today, he wasn't Invincible, and you weren't a fellow hero. Instead, he was just civilian Mark Grayson hanging out with his best friend, who he was hopelessly in love with. And you? You were just another civilian, love-struck by your best friend.

To celebrate, you and Mark had spent the day happily browsing shops. Your arms now laden with books, trinkets, vinyl, and comics to add to your collections, and despite only carrying a few bags, the ever-gentlemanly Mark laughs as you wrestle with your load. 

“I swear, if you just stand there and laugh, I’m going to kick your ass!” You gripe at him, a scowl on your face. Marks continues his laugh as he comes and grabs the bags you were close to dropping. “Let’s get back to the car, you shop-acholic.” The playful smirk on his face causes your heart to skip a beat. 

As the last few hours of the day approached, you decided to picnic in a secluded park a few miles from town. You had been there for almost two hours, doing all the usual picnic tasks. Watching the clouds, pointing out their silly shapes, and observing the ducks as they waddled and swam away. Both of you breathed easily in the pleasant spring weather. 

An unsaid dread settled over you two as you realized the day was ending. Who knows what tomorrow will be like, and who knows when you'll get to pretend to be carefree again? You watched as Mark glared at the pond, his shoulders tense. You didn't need to ask him what was wrong; his face conveyed all his emotions. Not wanting to end the day on a sad note, you rolled the dice in your mind, trying to devise something to distract him. 

"Want to have a staring contest?" Your voice drifts softly through the quiet moment. 

"What?" Mark turns his attention back to you, one eyebrow raised, wondering if he had heard you correctly. 

"A staring contest. You know, trying to see who has the stronger eyes." You shrug your shoulders.

"I don't think that's what the contest is for." 

"I think it is, but we don't have to if you're too worried about losing."

"Who said I'd lose?" 

So now your eyes peer deeply into Mark's. The setting sun casting a warm glow on his face, catching the high points of his ivory skin and making his dark brown eyes shimmer like melted honey.

It's been forty-five seconds since you started your competition—a silent battle of dominance. 

"How long until you give up?" Mark asked, his voice dripping with cockiness. The little smirk on his face only fuels your desire to win. You debate in responding, wanting to keep all focus on keeping your eyes open. But you give in.

"Do you always talk a big game, or is it only when you know you're going to lose?" You copy his cockiness with a smirk. 

"Not to brag, but I do have amazing stamina. It's like the whole thing with Viltrumites." Clearly, Mark is using all his focus to keep his eyes unblinking, too. His mind missing the accidental innuendo. 

Dropping your voice an octave, you tease him, "Amazing stamina, huh?" A flush spreads over his cheeks, and his eyes widen slightly as he realizes. "Is that you talking big game again?" 

"I didn't mean it like that-"

"So you're saying you're shit in the sack?"

"No, I'm not- I- can we stop talking about me having sex?" Mark's face burned a fiery red; you could almost feel the heat radiating off him as he struggled to regain his composure. "Can we just focus on the game?" he muttered, trying to steer the conversation away from his embarrassing slip-up. Unable to suppress a laugh, you conceded, "Alright," you said, adding with a playful jab, "but you were the one that brought it up." 

More seconds pass, and you're both holding firm. Neither one of you hinted at needing to blink. The only downside of looking into Mark's eyes this long is that it drives your mind to think of wild ideas. And, of course, you're none the wiser that Mark is in the same situation as you. As his mind races, his heart begs him to lean in and kiss you. Even just your knees resting against each other has his heart racing.

Mark does not fail to notice when your eyes droop slightly and open wider than before. He mulls over teasing you before deciding it's the best idea. Leaning in closer, a playful smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.

"You look like you could use a break," he says, his tone light and teasing. "If you concede," he mimics you from earlier and drops his voice an octave. "I'll spare you the humiliation." It’s your turn to flush. 

"How generous. Does that come with being a Viltrumite, too?" 

"Nah, that's just the type of guy I am."

In response, you exhort air through your nose, "Oh wow. Not only do you have great stamina, but you're also incredibly generous. How are you even real?" 

"Hey! We agreed to move past that!" Mark's face scrunches up at your treachery.

You're trying to ignore how close you are to Mark, but the scent of his cologne overwhelms your senses and makes it impossible. Sure, you've been close before. Mark has carried you when you couldn’t stand from your injuries, and you've pulled him out of danger plenty of times. But this, this feels different.

A gentle breeze blows directly into your eyes, and the mintiness accompanying it gives away Mark's tactic. You gasp dramatically. 

"That's crazy! You're so worried about losing that you're trying to sabotage me!"

His voice is smooth, "I'm just breathing. No sabotage here." His tactic works, and your eyes begin to feel like sandpaper. He continues blowing gentle, minty breaths at you, and without thinking, you raise your hand to cover his mouth. 

The heat of his wet tongue, slick and warm against your skin, sends a flush creeping up your neck. Refusing to move your palm away leads to him narrowing his eyes and licking at your palm persistently, covering it with his sticky saliva. 

"Mark, that's so gross!" You exclaim, wrinkling your nose. You pray that the dramatic reaction prevents him from noticing your flushed face. You retract your hand, and Mark barks out a laugh. 

Fine, if he wanted to play dirty, you'd get messy. 

You lunge forward, hands pressing into his chest. The surprise of the action knocks Mark down onto his back, and he grunts as his back pushes firmly into the ground beneath him.

"I win!" You boast, your eyes shining brightly with no shame towards your winning method.

"You cheated!" Mark exclaimed, disbelief evident in his voice.

"Like you weren't?" You arched an eyebrow at him. "I didn't assault you, though," he retorted playfully.

The excitement fades, and in the aftermath of the thrill, you register the weight of his hands upon your hips. Perfectly positioned atop him, your hands remain spread across his chest. A shiver travels down your spine at his touch, a sensation intensified by the warmth of his hands that you travel through your shorts. Lost in the moment with him beneath you, you lean in, your breaths mingling, the intimacy deepening.

With widening eyes, a look of dawning awareness spread across Mark's face as he registered the closeness of your bodies. Leaning closer, you cause his breath to catch, and the air itself seems to vibrate with the unspoken, charged energy that hangs heavy between you. His gaze drifted to your lips for a moment before returning to your eyes, leaving an unspoken question hanging in the air between you.

Are we about to do this?

You search his eyes for any sign of doubt, but all you find is yearning. Taking the next step, you lean in and press your lips against his. His lips feel just as soft and warm as you had imagined they would. The connection between your lips feels like matching puzzle pieces, making it seem as if you were made for each other.

His right hand raises to gently cup your face, his left hand firmly pressing against your hip, and your heart pounds rapidly in response to his touch. Unconsciously, your fingers dig into the muscle on his chest; Mark feels like he could die from the pleasure of the simple action. Your lips move perfectly against his. He deepens the kiss, with his tongue gently tracing the outline of your lips. Shivers run down your spine, and your body erupts in goosebumps. You bask in the warmth of his body against yours. The world around you fades away, leaving only the two of you in this perfect moment.

You're the first to pull away. Mark raises his head, attempting to keep your lips together. You're both breathless and flushed, your eyes meeting his with a newfound intensity. The world around you fades into a distant hum as you both struggle to regain your composure, the kiss lingering between you like a tangible presence. 

Climbing off of him, you shuffle back to your side of the blanket. Mark sits up, scratching the back of his neck with his hand. You both start speaking simultaneously, "So-" and "Uh-" overlapping. There's a pause as you look at each other.

Despite your best efforts to resist, a giddy smile crept onto your face, and you found Mark mirroring that same expression back at you, a reflection of your own joy. Even the distance could not diminish the intense flush of heat that colored both your and Mark's cheeks.

"Can I kiss you again?" Marks asks, already crawling on hands and knees toward you. 

"Please do." You bit your bottom lip as you watched him. 

Once he’s in your space, he kneels, and you crane your neck back to look at his eyes instead of his chest. Instead of going straight for your lips, he showers the right side of your face with gentle, whisper-like kisses, a warm, tingling sensation spreading with each touch. He switches sides. His lips slowly graze over yours, and then he’s peppering kisses all over the left. You can’t help but giggle at the sensation and how crazy it is that your best friend for the past twelve years is now smothering you in kisses.

His lips graze yours, sending shivers down your spine, and a groan escapes your lips, a silent plea for his touch. Luckily, the message is received loud and clear. His lips finally meet yours. He is gentle at first, but soon, Marks begins fervently kissing as if he can’t get enough of you. You fist at his shirt, and the world melts away as you lose yourself in Mark Grayson again.

Pulling away, he rests his forehead against yours, a sigh escaping his lips. “I can’t tell you how long I’ve wanted to do that,” he whispers. You smile at him, eyes shining bright with adoration. “I’m sure I could take a guess.” 

With the sun’s descent below the horizon, a gentle breeze carrying the scent of blooming flowers swept over you and Mark, leaving you in the cool embrace of the spring night. The crickets’ chirping filled the air, a lone frog croaked from the nearby water, and fireflies blinked like tiny stars.

“I guess we should be leaving soon, huh?” You look at Mark and now feel the dread of the evening ending. 

“We can stay for a bit longer,” he murmured, breathing in your sweet scent.

So you lay under the blanket of stars, his strong arm an anchor to this moment. You felt the comforting warmth of his body and the soft, sweet pecks on your forehead.

[jassy2uall]

– I'd Never Forget Our Anniversary (pt.2)

Billie Eilish x fem!reader

“You can't believe your girlfriend forgot your anniversary”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You’ve lost track of time—hours might have passed as you kept driving. The thought keeps circling in your mind: your girlfriend forgot your anniversary. How could she? Do I really mean that little to her?

“For someone who prides herself on remembering dates, she somehow forgot the one that mattered most,” you laughed bitterly to yourself.

You wiped away the tears with the hand that wasn’t gripping the wheel, your vision still blurred with frustration. Then, your phone buzzed.

Finally. She was calling.

But you didn’t answer. It was too late, and you were too angry to talk to her. The only thing that was on your mind right now was getting home.

*******

Billie’s stomach twisted as she stared at the screen. The missed calls. The unread messages.

Why are you at the restaurant?

She was supposed to be here—with her. Not waiting alone. Not blowing up her phone, wondering where she was.

Something was wrong.

The room was alive with laughter, music, and the sounds of their friends celebrating, but it all faded into the background. Billie couldn’t focus. Her hands tightened around her phone as she sent another text.

Where are you? I’m getting really worried, love.

Hello? Y/N?

Still nothing.

Her heart pounded in her chest.

“Billie, what’s wrong?” Ava’s voice finally broke through the haze.

She barely registered her friend’s concerned expression as Nat chimed in. “Yeah, why do you look so down?”

Ava just shrugged, but Billie ignored them, her mind racing. She lifted her head, scanning the room. “Have you guys heard from Y/N?”

One by one, her friends shook their heads.

Billie turned to Zoe, clinging to hope. “You?”

Zoe hesitated, thinking. “The last time I talked to her was yesterday. She sounded really excited about something.”

Billie’s brow furrowed. “Excited? About what?”

Zoe shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe she was putting something together for your anniversary tomorrow.”

Nat’s eyes widened. “Oh my gosh! I totally forgot—your anniversary is tomorrow!” He grinned. “What do you have planned?”

“I’m taking her to her favorite restaurant,” Billie replied, a trace of pride in her voice. “And she’s always wanted to go on a hot air balloon, so I’m surprising her with that too.” For a moment, her smile lit up her face as she pictured all the plans for tomorrow—until a wave of panic crashed over her.

“But none of that matters right now because I have no idea where she is,” she said, anxiety creeping into her tone. “We’re supposed to be all set for tomorrow, and I can’t even think straight.”

“Okay, calm down,” Zoe said, stepping closer. “I’m sure she’ll be here any minute.”

“Do you guys share locations?” Ava asked suddenly. Billie froze as realization hit her like a ton of bricks. Of course they did. She smacked her forehead. “I’m so stupid,” she muttered, quickly pulling out her phone to check.

Her brows furrowed as she stared at the screen. “Why… is she at home?” she mumbled.

“She’s home?” Ava asked, confusion clear in her voice. “I thought she was coming over here.”

“Me too,” Nat added, exchanging a worried glance with the others.

Billie’s mind raced. “I don’t know,” she muttered. Then, turning to Ava, she asked, “Hey, do you mind if I leave earlier than planned?” Her voice carried a mix of guilt and worry.

Ava nodded immediately. “Of course. I hope she’s okay.”

“Same,” Nat echoed. Then, with a half-smirk, he added, “And if she is, I’m definitely gonna get on her for missing out.”

Billie managed a small smile at the joke, but her concern overpowered any lightheartedness. Grabbing her things, she rushed outside and slid into her Porsche. With her heart pounding, she sped off toward home, desperate to find you.

Twenty minutes later, Billie pulled into the driveway, parking right beside your black Mercedes. She barely took a second to turn off the engine before jumping out, her heart hammering in her chest.

As she approached the front door, she fished her key out of her pocket—something you had both agreed on when you moved in together. She didn’t hesitate to unlock the door, pushing it open.

“Babe?” she called out, stepping inside. Silence greeted her.

Her brows furrowed. She knew you were here—your car was outside, and your location showed home. Billie walked through the house, checking the living room, the bedroom, and even the guest rooms. Nothing.

Her eyes landed on your purse and car keys sitting on the kitchen counter. She wouldn’t go anywhere without these.

Then, it clicked.

The garage.

Billie turned on her heel and made her way there, pushing open the door to find you in the indoor gym, running on the treadmill. AirPods in, music blasting, your focus locked straight ahead. You were drenched in sweat, completely in your own world.

Billie exhaled sharply, both relieved and annoyed. After all the worry, all the panic, you were right here—ignoring her.

She crossed her arms and stepped closer. “Seriously?” she said loud enough to be heard over your music.

You didn’t even flinch. Or at least, that’s what Billie thought. But she caught the slight glance you gave her out of the corner of your eye. You knew she was there. And yet, you kept running, acting like she wasn’t.

Billie clenched her jaw. Oh, so that’s how you wanna play it?

Without a second thought, she reached over and hit the stop button on the treadmill. The sudden change nearly made you stumble, forcing you to grab the handles for balance. With an irritated sigh, you yanked out your AirPods and turned to face her.

“What the hell, Billie?” you snapped.

“What the hell me?” she shot back, eyes narrowing. “I’ve been calling you, texting you, freaking out—and you were here the whole time?”

You grabbed a towel, wiping the sweat from your face. “Yup.”

Billie scoffed. “So you just ignored me?”

You let out a humorless laugh. “Yeah, kinda sucks, doesn’t it?”

Her brows knitted together. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

You tossed the towel onto the bench and crossed your arms. “It means, Billie, that I waited for you. I sat at our restaurant, waiting. Calling. Wondering why you weren’t there.”

Billie blinked. “Wait—what?”

You scoffed, shaking your head. “Unbelievable. You don’t even know, do you?”

“Know what?”

“Our anniversary, Billie,” you said flatly. “I thought you forgot, so I left.”

Billie’s heart dropped. “Wait… no. No, I didn’t forget,” she said quickly. “I had everything planned for tomorrow. The restaurant, the hot air balloon—I wanted it to be a surprise. Besides, I thought we both agreed this morning we were going to go to Ava’s surprise birthday party tonight at her house with the band and our friends remember?

“Wait, what?” The last part caught you off guard—not about Eva’s birthday or the fact that she just revealed what she had planned for your anniversary.

“What did you just say?”

Billie looked at you confused. “I thought we were going to go to Ava’s house tonight that’s what we talked about this morning.”

You took one of your AirPods out. Confusion all over your face.

“That’s not what I was talking about this morning, Bills.” I was talking about our anniversary.

Now Billie was confused.

“Did you just say our anniversary is tomorrow?” You asked her slowly.

She nodded her head. “Yeah.”

You paused, taking the other AirPod out and reaching for your water that was sitting on top of the bars of the treadmill.

Billie took your reaction surprised.

“No, babe are anniversary is today,” you said surely. Wasn’t it?

Billie looked even more confused at you.

“No, mama our anniversary is tomorrow,” she said seriously. You completely paused shaking your head. She had to be joking but then again she wouldn’t joke about something so serious as your anniversary. You stepped back a bit. Trying to process what was going on.

There’s no way you got the date wrong.

Your grip tightened around the water bottle as you stared at Billie, your heart pounding. “No… no way,” you muttered, shaking your head. “Our anniversary is today, Billie. December 9th.”

Billie’s brows furrowed, her expression unreadable. “Babe, no. It’s tomorrow. December 10th.”

You let out a short, disbelieving laugh, but the panic was already creeping in. “You’re messing with me.”

“I swear I’m not,” Billie said, stepping closer. “It’s always been December 10th. That’s the day we made things official. Remember?”

You opened your mouth to argue, but suddenly, doubt started to settle in. Wasn’t it December 9th? You were sure it was. But now, looking at Billie, so certain… your confidence wavered.

“No,” you whispered to yourself, unable to believe what Billie had just said. You pulled your phone from your waistband and started scrolling through your camera roll, frantically searching for the proof you needed to confirm you were right. Your finger swiped over the screen until it landed on the photo—the one you’d taken the night you officially became a couple. Your eyes focused on the date on the screen, your breath catching in your throat.

That night, Billie had asked you to be her girlfriend after your third date. It had been late when you both got back, laughing and talking for hours. You’d lost track of time, and then Billie had asked, right at midnight, making it officially the next day. December 10th. Your anniversary.

Billie glanced at your phone, her lips curving into a soft chuckle. “Baby…” she said gently.

You blinked, staring at the date, then back at Billie. “No way.”

Billie bit her lip, trying—and failing—to suppress her laughter. “Oh my God... you really thought it was today?”

Your stomach twisted with embarrassment. “I—no, I—” You quickly covered your face with your hands, mortified. “This can’t be happening.”

Billie grinned as she stepped closer, gently pulling your hands away from your face. “So, let me get this straight,” she teased. “You ignored all my calls, left the party, spent the whole night thinking I forgot our anniversary… and it’s actually tomorrow?”

You groaned, burying your face in her chest. “Shut up.”

Billie’s laughter softened, and she pulled back to hold your face in her hands. “I’m sorry, love,” she murmured, kissing your forehead. “But, hey, look on the bright side.”

You raised an eyebrow, skeptical. “What bright side?”

Billie smirked. “You get to celebrate twice.”

You groaned, giving her a playful shove. “You better make tomorrow worth it, rockstar.”

Billie’s grin widened. “Oh, don’t worry, mama. I will.”

“By the way,” Billie said, pulling you closer by your waist, settling you into her arms. “What did you get me?”

You sighed, rolling your eyes playfully. Might as well tell her now since she spilled the beans about her plans. “Well, besides the dinner at your favorite place…” you joked. “I got you your favorite flowers, jewelry, some more baggy pants, and oversized shirts you love. And also,” you said, a little nervous, “I wrote you a poem.”

Billie’s eyes widened. “You did?” she gasped. “Where is it?” She immediately started to make a move, trying to run and grab it.

You stopped her with a grin. “It’s hidden somewhere, and you’re going to read it tomorrow, since today isn’t what I thought it was.”

She pouted dramatically, her lower lip sticking out. “But I wanna read it now.”

You shook your head. “Tomorrow.”

Billie leaned back into you, embracing you again and kissing your forehead softly. You couldn’t help but feel a mix of embarrassment and excitement bubbling inside you. Tomorrow was going to be perfect—now you were sure of it.

“Just so you know,” Billie said, looking down at you with a mischievous glint in her eyes.

You looked up, curious to hear what she was about to say.

“I’m telling Finneas about this tomorrow,” she said, barely containing her laughter.

Your eyes widened. “No,” you gasped, immediately jumping up to chase after her as she ran back inside. “You can’t!”

But Billie was already gone, laughing as she darted through the door. “Yes I can!” she called back over her shoulder, the sound of her laughter ringing out as you sprinted after her.

You shook your head, laughing too, knowing you’d never live this down. “I’m going to get you for that!”

End of pt. 2

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Author's Note: The next part is coming soon!!! Let me breathe 😩

[ghostofbambifanfiction]

CYOA 69 sneak peak

Since I'm not going to manage to finish the chapter before I go on vacation, rather than gif hints, I've decided to post the opening scene of the chapter beneath the cut. Surprise?

Private WhatsApp Chat Resumed: Monday 28th March, 2022, 00:00 Members: Lily Evans, James Potter

================================

Lily Evans: You're still out, right? For the rest of the day?

James Potter: yeah we got out of the first room early, so i say we, sirius did most of the heavy lifting because i've been completely out of it just waiting for the next one to be ready they said it would take about 25 minutes

Lily Evans: So I suppose I don't have much time to talk to you?

James Potter: that seems to be today's recurring theme

Lily Evans: I KNOW And I'd wanted SO much to have a properly long conversation with you earlier.

James Potter: so did i, but it's alright hey, lily?

Lily Evans: Yeah?

James Potter: are we okay?

Lily Evans: What?

James Potter: it's just that i feel like we might not be, so i wanted to check

Lily Evans: Wait, what? Why wouldn't we be okay?

James Potter: because of what happened earlier

Lily Evans: You're upset about that?

James Potter: no, but i mean, sort of not because it wasn't the best thing that's ever happened to me, because it was but we had an agreement, you made it really clear that you had this boundary in place and that we shouldn't move too fast, except then we did, and i'm worried that i've made you do something that you weren't ready for which i'm so sorry about, if i have

Lily Evans: Have you been worrying about this since we hung up?

James Potter: yeah well not initially because i was still, y'know heaven

Lily Evans: Right

James Potter: but then i started to really think about what it meant and i feel like i got carried away and cocked up, and i owe you an apology

Lily Evans: No you don't!

James Potter: but i do though, we said we weren't going to do this and now we have because i brought up your friend's brother and asked you to tell me you wanted me when i could have not done those things so i don't want you to feel like this is something you have to keep up just for my sake if you need to take a few steps back now, please tell me and we can do that

Lily Evans: JAMES

James Potter: i just don't want to lose you, i don't want to fuck this up Lily Evans: You're NOT going to lose me, okay?? And I really need you to know that I don't want to lose you, either. Yes, I freaked out earlier when you brought up Aaron because I'd been so sure that you KNEW there wasn't a chance I'd be interested in somebody else and then suddenly it dawned on me that things from your end must have seemed more one-sided than they were, so I told you all of that stuff in a rush, but if the trains hadn't been cancelled and I hadn't gotten home so late I would have said it all anyway, James. I would have said it earlier. Only I'd have said it in the way I'd planned to last night, and it would have made me sound a lot less like a maniac. So PLEASE, don't worry about me and my boundaries right now, because I feel really good about what happened.

James Potter: you'd planned to say that stuff today?

Lily Evans: Yes.

James Potter: because of my birthday??

Lily Evans: Not because it was your birthday, obviously it BEING your birthday made it more of an ideal time, but no. I wanted to say it to you because honestly, James, I think we should just go for it.

James Potter: what do you mean?

Lily Evans: I mean IT As in you and me. As in us. I think we should actually BE an us.

James Potter: you mean be a couple?

Lily Evans: Yes, a couple. Let's be a couple. That's what I want. Is that what you want?

James Potter: lily are you sure? are you REALLY sure?

Lily Evans: Yes, I'm sure.

James Potter: because i don't want you to rush into anything you're not ready for i meant it when i said i was happy to wait

Lily Evans: I know, and I appreciate you so much for that but I promise you, I'm ready. I'm there. I am. I am mad about you, I want us to be together, and I'm SO sick of only being able to half-acknowledge it when all I want to do every minute of every day is let you know it. I said I was frightened and I wasn't lying, but I'm also sick of letting my life be dictated by a bunch of fears and insecurities that aren't going to go away if I wait patiently for them to leave. I have to actually DO something to confront them. So I want us to go for it. I can't be just friends anymore.

James Potter: right

Lily Evans: Unless this isn't sounding good to you and I've completely misread the situation?

James Potter: GOD NO LILY you haven't misread AT ALL i'm just stunned

Lily Evans: Oh. Okay.

James Potter: because i wasn't expecting this i was expecting the opposite after this morning, honestly i thought i'd fucked up somehow i'd thought you were going to want to take a step back

Lily Evans: No, I don't, I really don't, I'm so tired of taking steps back, James. I want to move forward. I want to move forward with you, because I trust you and I know how much you care about me, and I care SO much about you, and I think we could be really great together, you know? I think we could make each other really happy.

James Potter: lily we ARE great together

Lily Evans: WE ARE

James Potter: I KNOW

Lily Evans: WE ALWAYS HAVE BEEN

James Potter: from day one i've always said it i mean, not to you, i was terrified to say it to you but remus and sirius have heard a LOT about it

Lily Evans: Well, I want you to say it to me now, please. Because, you know, if there's a full James Potter experience that I've been missing out on while we've been just friends for the past year and a bit, I want in as soon as possible.

James Potter: oh, there's an experience

Lily Evans: I thought so.

James Potter: very exclusive though

Lily Evans: I should bloody well hope it is, I'm not sharing you with anyone else.

James Potter: there's a single entrant limit, what do you take me for?

Lily Evans: There's not a dress code, is there?

James Potter: dress code is wear whatever you want or wear nothing

Lily Evans: And I can alternate between both?

James Potter: don't let my personal preferences dissuade you from putting on clothes

Lily Evans: I kind of have to if I want to keep my job, right?

James Potter: right so we're together then? properly together? you and me?

Lily Evans: That's what I want, more than anything. I mean that. So if that's what you want too, then yes. Please.

James Potter: OF COURSE THAT'S WHAT I WANT

Lily Evans: Unless you'd rather not share our anniversary with your birthday?? I don't know how you feel about that. Although it is after midnight HERE.

James Potter: you're talking about anniversaries you're talking about OUR anniversary lily LILY

Lily Evans: I mean, yeah? I just assumed. Are you okay with that?

James Potter: AM I OKAY WITH IT LILY LILY EVANS

Lily Evans: ????

James Potter: i'm sitting here in a waiting room trying to look like i'm not having a heart attack while you tell me that all my dreams are coming true and you're wondering if i'm OKAY with it?

Lily Evans: You have dreams that are unrelated to me!

James Potter: ALL MY DREAMS, LILY i can't believe this is happening this isn't real i'm going to wake up any second, aren't i? i passed out on my bed or something. this can't be real it can't be you're SURE?

Lily Evans: YES I'M SURE

James Potter: you're not worried about rushing into anything??

Lily Evans: No, honestly, I've been thinking about that, and would it even BE rushing into anything when you're still travelling until July and we'll have already been together for a solid three months, long distance, by the time you get back?

James Potter: right yeah so you're cool with that? with the distance?

Lily Evans: Yes, of course, we've been apart this whole time and it hasn't done a thing to get in the way of us becoming as close as we have. And I trust you. I trust you SO much. I just don't want to keep holding things back.

James Potter: you mean everything to me, lil everything in the world you're it for me, you always have been if i tell you that i would do anything for you, i'm not exaggerating, because i really really would i'm sorry if that's too much, it's true though, that's how i feel

Lily Evans: It's not. It's not too much at all, I feel the exact same way. You're it for me too. You really are.

James Potter: and i'm going to do everything in my power to make you happy, alright? i promise i promise that i'm never going to take you for granted for fuck's SAKE they want us in the room now i literally just went and hid in the toilet twenty seconds ago but now sirius is banging on the door one sec, i'm going to tell them that something's come up and i can't do it

Lily Evans: No, it's okay! Do it, it's fine! Sirius has a bunch of genuinely cool plans for your birthday that you deserve to enjoy and I really need to go to bed anyway, hell week starts in the morning and I'm going to need SOME sleep to get through it.

James Potter: lily i will tell everyone in this building to fuck off right now if you want me to, it's fine

Lily Evans: No really, don't! Last night I was convinced that I wanted to have this perfect, planned, lengthy conversation about us, but honestly it really doesn't matter how it happened, I'm just so happy that it did.

James Potter: i'm crazy about you, do you know that?

Lily Evans: I'm crazy about you! You're all I bloody think about!

James Potter: YOU'RE ALL I THINK ABOUT TOO HENCE THE CAPS FOR EMPHASIS

Lily Evans: Okay so GO HAVE FUN and I'm going to go to bed and try to sleep and I'll text you in the morning and we'll sort out a time to talk PROPERLY and figure all this out, okay?

James Potter: okay okay okay jesus, my heart's beating so fast i might collapse

Lily Evans: Lol mine too, I'm going to need the blue Nytol to sleep tonight.

James Potter: i'm going to need a mallet to the head

Lily Evans: Tire yourself out having THE BEST time tonight and you'll be alright. Now get out of the loo and escape the room, I adore you.

James Potter: i adore you too, you goddess of a woman

Lily Evans: Okay I'm GOING TO BED or else you're never going to leave that bathroom and I'm going to be a zombie with eye bags at work tomorrow.

James Potter: you could not sleep for a week and still be beautiful

Lily Evans: STOP

James Potter: NO I WILL NOT STOP, IT'S LITERALLY MY JOB TO TELL YOU THAT NOW

Lily Evans: OKAY DON'T STOP BUT LEAVE THE LOO, OKAY?

James Potter: I'M LEAVING NOW

Lily Evans: Okay GOODNIGHT, I miss you already x

James Potter: GOODNIGHT i miss you too x

[radioactiveheadache]

the number of young folks under and around 25 that i see saying things like "idk what i'll do when i turn 30" genuinely frightens me. like... i get it. genuinely. i was younger than 30 not too long ago. it also felt like a massive weight looming over me, waiting to drop onto my young shoulders. but the thing is—i feel the EXACT fucking same as i did when i was in my 20s??? aging 30 years is nothing, mentally. you're not a different person all of a sudden. you don't magically go from "fun young adult with life ahead of them" to "crotchety idiot on death's door" overnight. you're the same you as you've ever been, just with 30 years of experience at life under your belt. also maybe some new aches and pains. it happens.

though, perhaps i should rephrase that a bit, because it does change you somewhat. it depends on the individual/experiences of course, and it's not guaranteed by any age necessarily, but let me just say this: i have never, ever, EVER been more sure of who i am, what i am capable of, and what i want for myself than i am now, at 32. i can only imagine that this trend will continue, and i look forward to what i'll be like in my 40s. my 50s. my 60s.

for those of you on the cusp, you 28 and 29 year olds, and those freshly over the 3-decade hump, i want to reassure you of something:

there's no magic number. just like you're not meant to have everything "figured out" in your 20s, you might not have it all sorted by 30, either. and that's not a measure of your character or your worth. i'm not on HRT, though i'd like to be. i don't own my home. my partner and i are being kicked in the teeth by debts of all sorts. my life isn't perfect! i'm 32 and stuff is still hard! but now, more than i ever did when i was younger, i feel the drive to keep pushing forward. i know what life could be like for me. i know what mental tools i have at my disposal. and even if it takes me another decade, another twenty or thirty years, i will keep at it.

don't take this as a sign that there's no light at the end of the tunnel. no, you may not have it sorted by 30, and it may take you some time after that milestone to feel stable, safe, or comfortable. but you never know when that'll happen for you! it could be 25. it could be 30. it could be 37. or 37-and-three-quarters. you know what i mean? it could happen for you any day. any minute. keep going. just one more day. what if it happens tomorrow? or the next day? or the next?

there's no magic number. there's no magic number. there's no magic number. please remember that.

From one Gen-Z to another, let’s continue to deprogram ourselves from the idea that 30 is old and you need to have your shit together before 30.

You can go back to school after age 30!

You can fall in love after age 30!

You can find a best friend after age 30!

You can find a passion after age 30!

You can find a job you love after age 30!

You can recover from an addiction after the age 30!

You can pursue a large goal after age 30!

You can travel the world after age 30!

You can move after age 30!

You can change your appearance after age 30!

You can ask for help after age 30!

You can make discoveries about yourself after age 30!

You can come out after age 30!

You can fix your finances after age 30!

You can be attractive after age 30!

You can fix your life after age 30!

You can do anything after age 30!

Idk what so specifically about the number 30 has bewitched so many of us into believing that means your life is over, but it’s just so far from the truth!

You have so much more time after 30 to accomplish all that you want to do.

Your life isn’t over until it quite literally is over. Stop giving yourself a deadline that doesn’t exist!