#this is catered. to me. to me and me only

[royalarchivist]

Etoiles: Guys, can we please– can we please give the $100k to Felipe?

Roier: Eh? What the fu– Ay ay ay ay– pendejos! Don't speak English, ok? Español. ¡Español!

Etoiles: Uh, uh, uh– [Singing] ¡Un, dos, tres!

Roier: [Also singing] Un, dos, tres, un pasito pa'lante María–

Phil: [In despair] ¡Inglés! Por favor!!! 😫

Roier: No, Inglés no, Inglés no. 😌

Phil: Inglés, por– 😭

Roier: Aqui Español, aqui Español. 🇲🇽 🇲🇽 🇲🇽

[vettelsvee]

YOU'RE NOT HANNA, AND NEVER WILL BE HER | Sebastian Vettel

history series main masterlist | requests here!

red bull sebastian vettel x reader, nico rosberg x reader

word count: 6588

summary: 2010 german gp post race party has many things in store for seb and y/n, who finally do what they both been willing to do for a long time even they're dating hanna prater and nico rosberg

warnings: everything related to gender-based violence (main trigger warning to physical and mental abuse) from nico to y/n (reminder that everything you read on my blog is fiction), curse words, "cheating", mentions of suicide and cancer

a/n: i'm quite scared and happy at the same time to be posting this fic because it's one of my favourite parts ever on history series, but still has me so worried you might not like it because of all the topics (and because history series was originally posted on wattpad and not many people liked it but don't let anyone know that pls). anyways, let me know your thoughts on this one and request anything you might like if you want pls! i'll probably be posting tomorrow another part since my town is currently on high risk alert of floods and we've been told not to leave home. let me remind you that comments and reblogs are truly appreciated! thank you so much <3

© VETTELSVEE (2024). please, do not steal, copy or translate my works. thanks for reading!

2010 Hockenheim   German Grand Prix  

You paused for a moment in front of the bathroom mirror as Valentina finished your makeup. You leaned forward to get a better look, but the your woman followed your movements with perfect synchronization and, surprisingly, without messing it all up.

Your own reflection was completely unrecognizable to you. In front of you stood a beautiful, self-assured Y/N, looking like someone who possibly had a life that, while not perfect, seemed enviable.

You feared that a simple layer of makeup could make you feel completely different from reality. It was as if all your problems had suddenly vanished, and instead had in front of you a superwoman admired by everyone, not a twenty-something whose life was falling apart.

Valentina Martínez, the girl standing beside you with whom you’d had the opportunity to become closer, was one of the Mercedes catering managers and, also, exactly the complete opposite of you. Valentina had a beauty that everyone could admire and a confidence that many, including yourself, would love to have. She could lift others' spirits with just a smile and a few words that, while not wise, were good enough to make sense.

The Argentine radiated the kind of magic you felt you lacked.

So, when Valentina’s gaze fell on yours as you continued to admire how beautiful you felt.

“Come on, Y/N!” Valentina shouted, stepping away from you and starting to bounce on her feet. “I know this isn’t your thing, but I swear you look incredibly hot.”

“Valentina…”

“None of that,” she interrupted, “you need a bit more confidence. I don’t know how you don’t have it with Nico already. He’s totally worth it!”

As Valentina’s smile grew wider, you sighed and lowered your head. You thanked her as calmly as you could for trying to transfer some of her positivity, though you knew it was somewhat of a show Valentina put on for everyone and wasn’t doing anything particularly special for you.

That was what you liked least about her: Valentina was so well-liked and appreciated by everyone that, somehow, she always played the same role, regardless of who she was with.

“I don’t know why I’m going to a party I definitely don’t want to go to,” you confessed with honesty.

Today’s race had been quite tough, and although the strategies were solid, they didn’t seem to deliver the expected results when Seb only managed to get bronze in his home race. That’s why all you wanted to do at that moment was order a good room-service dinner and eat it under the bed sheets while watching some low-budget TV show before trying to get some sleep.

"You know that stepping out of our comfort zone is the best thing," Valentina said, moving closer to you and gently taking your hands. "Besides, you're doing this for Nico," she insisted. "Remember: he's your boyfriend, and it's your duty to make him happy."

You smiled shyly even though, deep down, you shivered a bit at the tone Valentina seemed to be using with you. It was as if she wanted those last words, it's your duty to make him happy, to penetrate your mind and stay there. You tried to ignore it, as it was probably your own insecurities taking over. And, in some way, you knew Valentina wasn’t wrong. She was aware that you needed to stop being so perfectionistic and rigid, and maybe start letting yourself go a little bit more.

"You're right, yeah," you finally said. "Thanks for everything."

Without saying anything else, you left Valentina’s room to head back to your own, just a couple of doors away, not without first gathering the clothes you had been wearing earlier while your friend continued getting ready.

As you took out your room card from the small purse hanging from your shoulder and swiped it to enter, you started feeling a mix of nerves and excitement. However, the moment Nico Rosberg, your boyfriend, came out to greet you and looked you up and down, hands on his hips, all of it disappeared.

"Are you seriously going out dressed like that?" he asked, completely incredulous, pointing at your dress. "You look like a slut."

You were speechless, though part of you wanted to say everything she was feeling. Once again, fear caused you to shrink back, cautious about your actions and the possible consequences. The tone he had used on you was filled with anger and, above all, disappointment. You knew that nothing good would come from answering, so instead you held back everything you wanted to say to him.

“Nico, it's just a dress…” you tried to explain as calmly as possible, not really knowing how to make him see reason without losing your composure.

He stepped closer, and his eyes filled you with nothing but fear. You could swear that, in his fury, the bluish hue of his eyes had turned an orange-red, like fire; his pupils, fully dilated, were what sent you into internal panic.

“I don’t give a damn fuck if it’s just a dress,” he mocked you. “I don’t want you going out like that. You know there’ll be consequences.”

Be careful how you act with me, he had told you one day when you said you weren't in the mood to go out to have dinner. Since then, though you had realized many things he did to you, you’d also started to act with caution and rationality, knowing that blows could come at any moment.

You’d even considered that there was a remote possibility that you might be the one to end things, especially every time you recalled every single insult he used to hurl at you whenever you misbehaved, which had only increased in frequency in recent weeks, following your father’s death and your trip with Seb to your hometown for the funeral.

But, most especially, when the Red Bull Racing driver stayed a few days with you because he was absolutely worried about your mental health getting worse.

A lump formed in you throat as a few tears began to fall freely down your face, ruining the makeup your friend had taken so much time to apply and had turned out so well.

“If you don’t change your clothes right now and put on something that makes you look like a decent person…” He threatened, moving closer with his hand raised. “Think carefully, Y/N: I don’t want to go crazy, but I think you're forcing me to.”

You couldn’t let fear paralyze you at least, not now, as you felt his hand inching closer to your body. Another physical mark that would eventually fade, but another one that would leave a psychological one permanently.

"Please, Nico, don’t do this…” you begged, completely desperate by this point, but trying not to show it. “You said you loved me just the way I am and…”

“I just can’t believe you’re so stubborn! Don’t you get that I don’t want you going out dressed like some desperate girl who clearly wants to fuck with everyone?!” he yelled, filled with rage.

You backed up as much as you could until your back hit one of the surrounding walls. You had encountered this version of Nico before: no matter how hard you tried to reason with him, he would manipulate you until you ended up thinking it was entirely your own fault.

“Please, Nico, don’t shout. I don’t want anyone to hear us…”

“They’ll hear us if that’s what you deserve for wanting to embarrass me,” he shouted again, even more furious.

You knew the tension had reached its peak and that, from there, things would only worsen. 

Nico kept yelling at you. With your eyes squeezed shut and your hands pressed over your ears, waited for the familiar sensation of one of his limbs landing on any part of your body he fancied at that moment.

“Oh, so now you have the nerve to ignore me?”

When you heard him clearly again and saw his hand raise, you somehow found the courage to turn away and quickly slip into the bathroom, forgetting to lock the door in your haste.

“Open up right now!” he screamed.

While he pounded on the door, his yelling relentless, you leaned against the farthest wall, as if he might burst in at any moment. 

It wouldn’t be the first time it had happened. 

You gasped for air in a place where there seemed to be none, your hand instinctively clutching your chest as if to shield your heart, which felt like it might burst out at any moment. You had learned to live with anxiety and panic, and both emotions had reached a point where they didn’t control each other but had fused, learning to coexist together with you.

“Nico… I’ll change my clothes,” you said, still crying, your voice choking. “I’m sorry, really,” you lied, trying to sound as convincingly as you could. “But please… don’t hurt me.”

Not again.

Your whispers seemed to have reached him because his pounding and labored breathing quieted. You hoped that the situation had calmed, and it seemed like it had.

He didn’t answer immediately, instead giving you enough time to remove the ruined makeup from your face and apply just a little mascara. A few minutes passed, enough time for you to relax and consider the possible outcomes of what might happen next, before he coldly demanded that you open the door.

You emerged and collided with his chest. Forcing yourself to look up at him, all you could see was contempt.

“Once again, you’ve disappointed me,” he stated without a hint of hesitation. “No wonder why lots of shit happens to you and people treat you so poorly. I was wrong to judge Vettel: he was right to treat you that way, and he should’ve done even more to you.”

All you could do was lower your gaze and head toward your suitcase on the floor, trying to pick something that would be ok with Rosberg’s dress code while reminding yourself that Seb did things quite bad, but he seemed to be truly sorry and apologized many times to you. The beautiful red dress, strapless and embellished across the chest, falling just above your knees, had to be replaced by another dress of the same color, but one that reached your ankles, with a much higher neckline and looser fit, so as not to highlight your nearly nonexistent curves.

“Happy now?” you asked, with as much disdain as you dared, even knowing he might match your face to her outfit.

“If you behaved like a responsible adult, yes,” he muttered as he opened the door and took your hand forcefully. “Sometimes I forget you’re only twenty-two and you have a lot to learn about life.”

Did he really know more about life than you did after all you had to go through?

That thought lingered in your mind throughout the journey, from their floor’s hallway to where the party was held, including the elevator ride where they encountered Mark Webber and a journalist from Sky Sports Germany, Eloise Schimdt. During the conversation between the four of them, though you remained silent, you had to pretend that everything was fine, even as your insides felt like they were shattering further.

As they entered the venue, the music, louder than she liked, started to throb in your ears. Your eyes opened wide to adjust to the dim lights from the spotlights, and, as you always did when in a public place with Nico, you began scanning the scene in detail.

There were more people than the space could comfortably hold. The dance floor was packed with people moving energetically, glasses in hand with the sole mission of keeping the alcohol from spilling. The bar was just as crowded, and in the center, across from shelves stocked with every type of liquor imaginable, she spotted Kimi, Fernando and Jenson with their respective partners, chatting animatedly.

But your eyes didn’t seem to waste any time and ended up settling on the guy standing a bit farther away from the others.

Sebastian was leaning back against the bar, tapping his left hand on it to match the rhythm of the song playing. In his other hand he held a glass of what she assumed was, possibly, a Jägerbomb, his favorite drink and, to him, a must-have for parties like this. He was wearing a white t-shirt and jeans with those Geox trainers he always wore, and his hair was completely tousled.

In that moment, you felt utterly captivated by him, and you were sure you would have dared to talk to him if his eyes hadn’t been fixed on Hanna. The blonde girl was a few steps in front of him, dancing seductively without caring where she was or who might be watching her.

You couldn’t help but wish, at that moment, to be her.

You shook off those conflicting thoughts as soon as Nico grabbed you by the wrist and pulled you, snapping you out of your trance, to head toward the bar.

"Give me a Martini," he said abruptly to the bartender, "and some water for her. She’s a bit dizzy," he lied to stop you from drinking, as he often did every time you went out.

"A Jägerbomb if you can, please," you ended up telling the guy behind the bar with your best smile.

You completely ignored the words and looks Nico was giving you. Instead, you just flashed your best smile at the bartender, who kept looking at you with concern, along with the rest of the people who weren’t too intoxicated yet and had overheard your boyfriend’s words.

"I can’t believe you’re drinking again… Can’t you control yourself or what?" he snapped.

He pulled you aggressively close, and you tried you best to ignore his words, spoken in a threatening tone directly into your ear, while you took your drink from the bar, along with his, and offered it to him.

Surrounded by people, you felt a bit safer than usual. He wouldn’t be able to hurt you, at least not physically, in front of everyone here… His reputation would be ruined, and Nico Rosberg was too proud to allow that.

So you didn’t stay silent.

"Nico, leave me alone for a few hours, please," you replied, ignoring his comments. "I’m here to enjoy the party you were so insistent on coming to, not to get scolded for wanting to have fun with you."

"Damn it, Y/N!" he expressed in frustration. "Do you always have to ruin everything or what?"

You just lifted your glass to avoid spilling your drink and walked towards the dance floor, leaving Rosberg behind, hurling insults you decided to ignore.

As soon as you found yourself among the crowd, greeting familiar faces with a friendly smile, you let yourself get carried away by the rhythm of the music. Tonight your shyness seemed nonexistent, and you could only thank the alcohol for giving you the confidence you had lost. You started to lose track of time as you danced, and though you didn’t know how, each move helped free you from the intrusive thoughts of loneliness and worthlessness, of feeling like nothing more than a mere object, which had crowded your mind at a dizzying speed.

You knew that mixing liquor with the energy drink that funded your lifestyle was only a temporary fix and that, once the effects wore off, your life would return to the completely chaotic state you had come to deserve.

Suddenly, the music stopped, as did the bodies moving on the dance floor. A spotlight focused on the stage, where Seb stood, microphone in hand and swaying. There was no doubt that he was drunk.

His swaying body made it clear that he had no idea what he was doing and that, at some point, he would end up regretting something.

"Sorry, sorry!" he said into the microphone. "But I feel like making a little pause in this party we’ve got going tonight because I want to sing a song to someone I care about a lot."

You began to feel terrible as Vettel gestured to the DJ for the music he wanted. A few seconds later, the first chords of Just the Way You Are by Bruno Mars was the only sound echoing in the room.

"Babe, this song is for you, and I want you to know how much you mean to me!"

You could see Hanna smiling broadly and shrugging. You wanted to leave to cry again at the beautiful scene unfolding in front of you, of which you definitely weren’t the main character.

Was it too soon to say that the boy you were in love with dedicating a song to his girlfriend hurt worse than any blow your current boyfriend had ever given you?

Yes, it was clear. Possibly, the alcohol had already taken too strong a hold, and you could no longer control what you said or thought.

You know I'd never ask you to change  

If perfect's what you're searching for  

Then just stay the same  

So don't even bother asking if you look okay

You felt confused and didn’t know what to do, but Sebastian’s voice, trembling and making his English accent sound more German than usual, had you completely captivated.

So did Prater's reaction when the German shifted his gaze from her to you.

“This is for you,” he said, sweeping his gaze across the crowd. “I know you know who you are, and I want you to know it’s all for you, and that you deserve the absolute best.”

When I see your face  

There is not a thing that I would change  

'Cause you're amazing  

Just the way you are  

And when you smile  

The whole world stops and stares for a while  

'Cause, girl, you're amazing  

Just the way you are

You noticed Hanna moving to your side, visibly confused and clearly uncomfortable with what was happening.

“Y/N…”

She couldn’t say anything else, nor could you to her. As much as you wished to be Hanna, you couldn’t help feeling sorry for her at the strong possibility that her boyfriend was confessing his feelings to another girl right in front of her.

Or, at least, that’s what the alcohol led you to believe.

“I want you to know that, from the first moment I saw you, you’ve been in my heart,” Seb admitted, his words drawn out, uncaring about the reactions of those around them, especially his girlfriend’s or yours. “Right now, I can’t have what I want most, but I want you to know that being with you is the only wish I’ve made, and the one I’ll keep making on my birthday, until we can finally be together.”

That was the last straw. As quickly as she could, trying in vain to hold back tears and avoid drawing attention, Hanna left, thoroughly embarrassed, muttering something you couldn’t catch. Seb's voice still echoed in your ears, but you tried to ignore it because you couldn’t believe what had just happened.

Lost in thoughts, you moved as far away as you could, trying not to stumble. Then, you made your way to the bar to order another drink, as if that might somehow make you forget what had just happened.

Just before you could exchange words with the bartender who had already served you so many drinks that night, you felt someone take your wrist, though this time much more gently. You knew it wouldn’t be Nico; when you turned around and saw Seb, however, you were even more surprised.

Your eyes met, and butterflies began to flutter in your stomach. Once again, you felt at home and safe, though deep down, you were only afraid.

Without saying a word, he took your face in his hands and pressed his lips to yours.

In that moment, you felt everything fade away. You let yourself go, unafraid of who might be watching or what might happen next. Your arms wrapped around his neck, and his hands moved to your waist, pulling you closer to deepen the kiss… your first kiss. 

Slowly, calmly, and, as you felt, full of affection, you stayed that way until you both needed air.

You felt that you had both been waiting for this moment for so long and, in a way, you deserved it, turning a simple gesture of affection into something unique and special, caring little about your partners or your sobriety.

Seb pulled back, his hands still resting on you, and your gazes shared in complicity about what had just happened. You knew he was happy but confused, just as you were. You didn’t know what to say, and knowing he didn’t either, you simply gave him a shy smile to let him know everything was okay, that he could do that a thousand times more from now on.

“Y/N…”

“What is it, Seb?”

You wanted him to tell you he loved you, that he’d left Hanna, and that he wanted you to be his new girlfriend, the love of his life.

But, instead, Seb looked at you and left you, once again, speechless:

“You’re not Hanna… and never will be her...”

After he said that, you felt nothing but your breath slipping away and the sensation of fainting.

You wanted to tell him everything you felt at that moment, but his words had hit you so hard that they only increased your confusion and pain.

All you could do was stare at him, likely making a fool of yourself with the amount of tears clouding your vision. Silence took over, and when you finally found the strength to speak, trying to hide the pain you knew your voice would show, he turned away without even saying goodbye.

"How the hell could you do that, Y/N?! You have no shame! You humiliated me in front of everyone. Kissing Sebastian like you don't care about your boyfriend... now I see what you're really up to."

You didn't have time to say anything or leave because Rosberg came running towards you, grabbing your arm with a force you'd never seen in him. It hurt, and your scream, which was more of a complaint from the pain than a surprise, was a way of expressing how much you were hurting, not just from the tight grip, but also from the shake he'd just given you.

"Nico, please, calm down..." you tried to calm him, not wanting to embarrass yourself. Some people were already looking at you, and you wished Earth would swallow you up. "It was just..."

"Don't play innocent!" he shouted too loudly. "You thought I wouldn't find out?! I saw you kissing that piece of shit who only wants to fuck you until he's bored of you," he said, referring to Seb. "Now everyone here knows what you really are: a whore! And I'm glad, Y/N… You have no idea how glad I am."

The music suddenly stopped blasting, but your boyfriend's anger didn’t.

"Nico... I love you, really," you tried to speak. "It was just a moment of weakness..."

The moment of weakness was exactly what you were feeling now, making him believe you were truly in love with him when, in fact, you were only staying in the relationship because you were afraid your reputation wouldn’t make it out alive. 

"You say you love me? Don't make me laugh! If you really loved me, you wouldn’t act like this."

You wanted to tell him that you thought the same about him, but you held back, paralyzed again by the fear that your mind was processing all the bad things that could happen.

"Nico, come on. You don’t have to act like this. We can talk about this civilly."

As you saw Edward, Vettel’s personal trainer, appear, and pull Nico a bit away from you, a little peace returned to your body. You gave him a grateful look, to which he just answered by nodding.

"You don’t have to get involved, Eddie!" your boyfriend shouted. "Stay out of our fucking business!"

"You know you don’t have to treat her like this," he said seriously.

"She’s a whore, can't you see it?" Nico spat, pointing at you. "Disgusting little girl..."

"Nico, I understand you're angry," Patterson spoke again, after the German’s words, "but neither of you is in a state to talk about this, and this is not the right place," he said, referring to the curious looks around them.

You could only constantly whisper for them not to fight anymore, while deep down you prayed to take you away from all of this and bring you back to the hotel.

"I don’t care what you say," Eddie started. "I'm taking Y/N. I don’t think being here is the best thing for her."

After saying that, he stood behind you and guided you, putting his hand on your back, toward his car. At that moment, your desperation was so great that you didn’t even think about whether he was in any condition to drive.

The way back to the hotel, less than ten minutes away, felt eternal.You hadn’t drunk much because you didn’t like it, but not being used to it was enough for a couple of curves and a badly taken roundabout to make you gag and feel like vomiting.

Slowly, the shock began to set in, and you started to act on autopilot mode, following the directions of the man accompanying you, except when he told you it would be best for you to sleep in his room that night.

You didn’t know why, but that set off alarms in your confused brain. The last thing you wanted was to add fuel to the fire by sleeping with another man who wasn’t your boyfriend just to protect you.

"Thanks for everything, Eddie, really, but I think it would be best if I went back to my room to sort things out with Nico."

The Brit didn’t seem to agree with you.

"Y/N, I know it’s hard, but I don’t think it’s best for you to share space with him tonight," he was honest.

"I just want to talk to him and try to put an end to this," you insisted, still knowing you weren't right.

"And I understand you, really, but right now everything is too fresh, and the best thing is for you to rest and let the drunkenness wear off," he said, placing one of your arms over his shoulders. "Come on, I’ll take you to my room."

You decided not to argue anymore because it would be in vain, so you let yourself be guided while he lectured you about how you shouldn’t be intimidated by Nico and how you deserved someone better than him after what had happened at the club that night.

"Edward, Y/N. Good night, guys."

You lifted your gaze and saw another Brit. Jenson was standing in front of you, coming out of the elevator you were about to take. You were greatly surprised that he wasn’t with his girlfriend, but didn’t want to get involved; your alcohol-soaked self, however, wanted to gossip.

"Where are you two going?" he asked, crossing his arms and blocking the elevator doors so they couldn’t pass.

"I’m... taking Y/N to my room," Eddie revealed, stammering a bit for no clear reason. "She’s had a rough time, and it’s best that she doesn’t see Nico’s face tonight."

"And you think the best thing is that you take her to your room?"

Button’s features went from relaxed to a kind of aggression you had never seen in him. It’s not like you had spent much time or had many conversations together, but you knew the situation you were now involved in wasn’t what you had thought it was.

Edward Patterson stayed completely silent.

"Do you want me to call someone to be with you?" Jenson asked you directly, giving you no other option. "Y/N," he insisted again, "who do you want me to call to stay with you tonight?"

"Britta… please," you said as best as you could despite your discomfort.

To your surprise, while Jenson dialed the phone number of the woman you now considered your friend, Eddie let go of you and reluctantly pushed the driver, still leaning against the elevator frame, to leave. He didn’t even take the time to say goodbye to you, something that seemed to upset Button quite a bit.

"Hello, is this Britta?" Jenson began, speaking into the phone. "Great, yes. It’s Jenson. I’m with Y/N, and she asked if you could help her," he started explaining. "I don’t know much about what happened, except that she’s not feeling well and needs help from someone she really trusts," he clarified.

After exchanging a few more words, Jenson led you back to the lobby, where Britta appeared just a few minutes later in a bathrobe, espadrilles, and her hair tied up in a completely unusual way. You had never seen Roeske like that, and all you could do was laugh.

"Come on, let’s go already," Britta said, linking her arm with yours as if you were two old ladies heading to bingo. "This is how I want to see you: laughing, not crying."

When Britta opened the door to her room, you immediately ran and threw yourself onto the bed. Your whole body hurt, and you weren’t sure if it was from the emotions of the night or because the alcohol was hitting its peak.

Whatever it was, you knew perfectly well that lying completely still, face up, and counting the total number of tiles on the ceiling, pointing at them one by one with one eye closed and your tongue sticking out was what was making your hostess laugh.

"Come on, Y/N, get up," Britta asked gently. "Do you mind if I help you get changed? It’s time to put on your pajamas."

You nodded as you sat up and moved to the foot of the bed.

Next, Britta unzipped the dress, and you noticed how she averted her gaze to give you some privacy while offering a nightgown.

"Right now, I’d love for Seb to be the one undressing me to fuck me. God... how I’d love Seb to make me scream now..."

Had you said that out loud?

"What did you just say?"

Britta’s muffled shout and the tone in which she asked, while turning her back without caring whether you had already put the garment on, making you realize that yes, you had said that out loud.

Your first time being drunk was going to be, definitely, a night to remember. Now, you just felt like saying those kinds of things, and you didn’t care at all about having a boyfriend… if he could even be called that.

"Oh…" you said, stretching the last syllable. "Didn’t you know it?"

"Know what?"

By the tone of voice, it seemed Britta thought it was related to the sudden thing you had said.

"Seb and I kissed," you told her, starting to laugh like a lovesick teen.

"This is the alcohol on you, I’m sure of it," Britta said, running to get a wet towel and starting to wipe it across your face. "You mean you and Nico kissed," she tried to correct you. "Seb is dating Hanna, and you’re dating Nico, remember?"

You started shaking your head constantly, about to collapse to the floor. A laugh started escaping you as you couldn’t control it.

"No, no, no, no," you denied while also wagging your finger. "Seb and I kissed. Nico’s an asshole."

"Y/N, you really should go to sleep, you’re not..."

"Of course I’m fine!" you said enthusiastically, getting up from the bed and standing in front of Britta.

The truth was that you only felt fine because of the effect alcohol was having on you. If it wasn’t for that, you would be crawling on the floor crying because you knew you had reached a point where you couldn’t pretend your life was perfect anymore.

"Do you really not believe me when I say that not only did Seb kiss me, but it was the best kiss of my life?"

You knew you were putting Britta in a tough spot, especially considering that the woman was probably closer friends with Hanna than with you.

"And Hanna?" Britta demanded to know. "Was she there, or had she left?"

"Oh, she was there?" you tried to pretend the best you could, using expressions that clearly showed otherwise. "I didn’t know..."

Before you could continue speaking, Britta ran to grab her phone and started making calls. You sat back down, crossing your legs and swaying while watching the blonde desperately cursing in German, since none of the contacts she called were answering.

It was possible that Seb and Hanna were busy, probably having sex. Your drunk self only wished she was in Hanna’s place.

"The only ones who tell the truth are kids and drunks, you know?"

Britta stared at you after those words. It seemed like you needed to say that phrase to make her believe you.

"Are you serious...?" Britta asked.

"What, Britta?" you insisted, urging her to speak.

"Did you really kiss Sebastian?"

You nodded.

"Yes," you confirmed. "Well, I mean, he was the one who took my face and kissed me," you corrected yourself. "Do I owe anyone something, like he owes Hanna?"

You were getting a bit defensive, and you knew it was making Britta nervous.

"Yes! You owe Nico, your boyfriend," Britta replied, giving you a harsh dose of reality.

"I don’t want Nico," you confessed. "At least, not in the way I think I should. He... I don’t know, Britta. I think he’s what I deserve. I try to understand why, but I know that his insults and those things he says to me make me a better person somehow."

You could see Britta go pale. Also, you were starting to feel worse; after all, it was the first time you had opened up about your feelings to someone since the journal Seb gifted you for your birthday last didn’t count as a personal therapist.

Britta usually had words for everything, but that day, you seemed to have left her speechless.

"Y/N..." Britta began, carefully choosing her words. "You’re a good person. You’re just scared."

"Maybe," you replied, trying not to make it a big deal. "And you, are you scared?"

"Of course. Everyone’s afraid of something."

"I’m afraid of being alone," you admitted, lowering your head because you were starting to cry again for the umpteenth time that day. "And I’m afraid of losing Nico. I know no one will ever love me, not better or worse, than he does."

Britta didn’t know what to say, and you felt bad for having to be in her room, drunk, sad, while your “friend” was putting up with you, possibly mediating between her client and her client’s partner.

That’s why you made a move to leave. Fortunately, Britta wouldn’t let you.

"Sit down, Y/N, and let it all out," Britta demanded.

And that’s exactly what you did. You told Britta everything, not just about what had happened since you started dating your current boyfriend, but about your entire life. Living with a mentally sick mother after her accident, her subsequent suicide, their move to Barcelona. Her father’s cancer and how it had worsened in less than two years. All the things Rosberg had said and done to you, even forcing you to do certain stuff you were clearly uncomfortable with.

You cried like you never had before when you told Britta about your first time, reluctantly, on a luxury yacht in Monaco’s seas, and how it gave you nightmares almost every night to the point where she was scared to fall asleep.

You could tell that Britta was truly worried when you started biting your lower lip, and a little tic appeared in your right eye.

"Have you talked to anyone about this?"

"Do you know I’m not Hanna, and I’ll never be her?"

You were fully aware that you had just avoided answering a crucial question, but you didn’t care at all. You were tired of talking about your burdens and your current life; from now on, you would focus entirely on your future and try to solve and finish once and for all all the problems that made your life a mess.

"But what are you saying, Y/N?" Britta asked, desperate.

"That’s exactly what I would have liked to ask Seb, but he left and Nico messed things up," you revealed, stretching your arms out and pointing to the marks, now red, that were the same shape and size as Mercedes’ driver’s fingers. "Great, yeah," you said ironically.

"But..."

"Do you think if I’m not Hanna, and I’ll never be her, I might have a chance to date Seb?"

Your question left Britta speechless again, unable to find the words. As Britta struggled to speak, you started playing with your fingers. Giving up, you laid on the bed, your back to Britta, clutching a pillow with the clear intention of falling asleep.

"Why are you telling me this?" Britta asked in a whisper, almost with... pity.

"Because I want Seb," you revealed, letting out a sob because, at last, you had been able to confront and reveal your confusing feelings for a guy who didn’t love you, and never would. "I’m in love with Seb, and it hurts knowing he’ll never love me back, and I know I’ll have to move on sooner or later."

Britta was about to speak, but you took the words from her before she could.

"Before you say anything else, take advantage of me and ask me anything you want: I’m a bit drunk because I’m not used to drinking."

You could tell Britta sighed, likely having lost all patience with you.

"You know... you know that Seb...?"

But then Britta stopped talking. You stood there for a while, staring at the red curtains that covered the window, waiting for the woman to continue. When she didn’t, you turned around:

"You know exactly what about Seb, Britta?" you asked, adjusting yourself on the bed, still hugging the pillow.

"Seb and you need to talk," Britta told you, leaving you speechless. "And when you do that, I’m convinced that you’re going to live the life you both deserve."

"But..."

Britta started to lie you down on the bed again, tucking you in under the linen sheets. Your yawns became more frequent, and after she kissed your forehead just like her mother used to do before your life was destroyed, your eyelids grew heavy.

"I know you won’t remember this tomorrow," Britta’s voice flooded your ears as you curled up into yourself. "But, to Seb, it’s more than obvious that you’re not Hanna and you’ll never be… And that’s exactly why that stupid, but incredible guy, has fallen truly, madly, deeply, in love with you."

You couldn’t tell if Britta’s words were already a dream, or if Morpheus was pulling you into his arms. 

"The day you stop doubting your worth, the world will be at your feet, Y/N. Sebastian has been telling me that and his closest people since you two spent the night together the day before his maiden win in Monza."

[thoseprettywords]

Summary: You're at the height of success in your career as a psychologist, but your latest patient has proved to be worth more trouble than you're able to take on.

Word Count: 2438

TW: Cussin, Stalking, Guns, Sex, Mental Health

AN: I’m an old hoe in this writing game, auntie don’t know all these acronyms and new lingo. If you’re under 18, you shouldn’t be here anyway. That being said, MINORS DNI.

Weeks passed since you had been able to spend any quality time with your husband. This new client of yours had you working overtime, putting every credit you earned for your psychology degree to use. Trinity Harrison was a real piece of work. She was a beautiful girl– capable, successful, and driven. She knew right from wrong, but still chose to take the most delusional, dramatic jumps from the tallest cliffs her mind could climb.

Trinity had been ordered to see you by a judge in lieu of spending 3 years in jail for attempted manslaughter. Her lawyer must’ve had a mighty tongue or some deep connections to sway the judge. You had never met someone so delusional, so you were up for the challenge. If you could get through to Trinity, you had truly found your calling.

Trinity Harrison was a young, vibrant soul that viewed the world through rainbow-colored glasses. On New Year's Eve the previous year, she met a guy who was visiting her hometown in upstate New York and ended up ‘pursuing her Christmas love story’ by booking a one-way flight and completely uprooting her life only to find out he was engaged. Instead of taking her L in stride, she became obsessed with replacing his fiance… by any means necessary. Which is exactly how her files ended up on your desk. In a blind rage, she spotted the fiance walking her dog and ran her down with her car. Thankfully, no major injuries occurred.

You were coming up on a year of treating Trinity with no real progress. This ate at you. You had graduated top of your class, opened your own private practice, and had a high-success rate within your clientele. 

“Dr. Richmond.” Your assistant poked her head into your office drawing your attention from the thick file in your hands. “It’s 7:00.” 

Briefly, you racked your brain trying to recall the significance of the time. Shit. You forgot.

“Thank you Brittany. Tell Terry I’m sorry and I’ll be there in 20 minutes.” You slid the file into a secure drawer and gathered your belongings. This was the third time you’d forgotten about meeting Terry for a date night. You knew he would not be pleased.

Once you arrive home, you slip into the shower eager to wash away the stress of the day. You step out of the shower and notice that Terry has laid out a red dress and a small mystery box. You giggle as you unwrap the box to reveal a pair of vibrating panties, and of course the remote was missing.

You valet your car and enter your favorite restaurant, immediately locking eyes with Terry who stands to greet you as you approach the booth. He leans down and meets your lips with a tender kiss. 

“Hey baby. I’m so sorry I’m late. It’s this–” Terry cuts you off, knowing that you were about to say the one name he told you he didn't want to hear tonight. Once you’re seated, he reaches across the table to grab your hands. 

“Baby, I have waited weeks to spend this time with you tonight. It’s been weeks since I’ve tasted you, felt you.” 

The guilt settles in your stomach as you reminisce on how things were earlier in your relationship. You vowed to make time for each other, to listen to one another, and to cater to one another’s needs. You’ve neglected him, but he wasn’t giving up so easily. 

A soft moan escapes your lips as you feel the vibrating sensation from the panties.

“Are you listening to me Mrs. Richmond?” Terry asked while expertly toying with the settings of the remote, nearly sending you over the edge. 

“Y-yes Ter- Terry. We’re i-in public. Why–” 

Terry leaned in, lowering his voice so that only you could hear. “Because you’re fucking playing with me woman. I haven’t fucked you in 3 weeks! I- I thought you were cheating on me with that Trinity bitch the way you’re never available for me anymore. Are you sure she’s the only one with an obsessive disorder?” The break in his voice almost breaks you. His mood had soured and he switched the panties off. You find yourself unable to meet his eyes. “Look. At. Me.” Terry commanded through gritted teeth. You sheepishly look up to meet his eyes. 

You’re interrupted by the waitress delivering the meals Terry had ordered prior to your arrival. Tension and silence filled the air between you as you dug into your meals. It was hard to ignore the glare coming from those icy blue-ish-gray eyes. You find yourself searching for the right words to say, but fail to think of anything that would satisfy his agitation. Failure was never an option for you, yet here you were on the brink of failing your marriage and your pain in the ass patient. There was only one thing to do.

You catch Terry’s hand as you both walk into the dark house. You run your hand down the length of his torso as you drop to your knees. “Baby, you have every right to be mad at me,” you admit as you undo his belt, “but I’m gonna make you feel like the king you are.”

You glance up to see his jaw tense with anticipation before spitting on the tip of his dick. You silently said a prayer knowing that no mercy would be shown. Your neglect created this monster and you didn’t need another failure on your plate, not tonight. 

Without another word, Terry grips your head with his massive hands and begins mercilessly stroking your mouth. Tears blur your vision, but you focus on your breathing while steadying yourself. The tension between you slowly melts away and is quickly replaced with a carnal lust. He pulls your head back by grabbing a handful of your hair forcing you to look at him. 

“Y/N, I could be out here fucking any woman I want. It’s so fucking tempting, but I–” He squints in the darkness unsure if he'd heard something. 

“What is it baby?” You ask, turning around to see what might’ve caught his attention. Terry shrugs it off and he guides you upstairs to the bedroom. Your punishment was far from over. Terry sits on the edge of the bed, pulling you into his lap. He peels the dress over your perfectly toned ass. You brace yourself waiting for his hefty hand to smack your ass. Instead you feel his lips on the small of your back causing you to arch. In one swift motion, he rips your panties and flings them across the room. He kneels behind you, pulling your ass to his face with a deep inhale. 

“I want tonight to be a reminder of everything you fell in love with and what you stand to lose.” 

You were in no mood to hear any words. You needed to feel his mouth. You ease back only for Terry to grab you by your ass to hold you in place. You hear him chuckle. “I’ve waited three weeks. You can wait 3 fucking seconds, y/n.”

You open your mouth to respond but the words escape you as Terry simultaneously plunges his thick thumb in your asshole as his tongue viciously flicked your hypersensitive clit. You went from a 4.0 GPA college graduate to a babbling twit in a matter of seconds. You could feel him grinning like a Cheshire cat listening to you struggle to form a single word. 

“Not yet.” Terry abruptly stops just as you’re about to reach your peak. It blew your mind the way he just knew your body. Not a second later, you felt the tip of his dick at your entrance, teasing you. You crane your neck to look back at him as you plead with your eyes. You both moan in pleasure as he slowly fills you. You were grateful that he was giving you time to adjust. “Terry…” You moan while grinding on his dick. “Fuuuuuck!” He roared while expertly navigating your walls, hitting that sweet spot.

Terry grabs a fistful of hair, while his other hand delivers a heavy smack to your ass. You whimper knowing whats to come. Another smack lands on your bare ass. Pain soon turns into excitement and pleasure. You toot that ass up as high as your spine will allow giving him full access. The stimulation from Terry hitting your spot, his balls slapping your clit, and the stinging sensation from your ass being smacked had you in a euphoric state. This was the first time in a long time that you were able to unwind and let go. You close your eyes as the orgasm envelopes the both of you. While you were on the brink of exhaustion, Terry was walking towards the door.

“I’m going downstairs to get some water baby. You want something?” Terry asks as he stands in the doorway naked as the day he was born. You nod, your throat still feeling raw. Minutes pass. You call Terry’s name to get no response. Your heart races as you tear yourself from the bed immediately feeling the aftermath of your punishment. You creep into the kitchen and find Terry laid face down in the middle of the kitchen. “Terry!” You rush over to him, failing to notice the figure standing in the shadows. 

“Hi Dr. Richmond.” You turn around slowly to find your very own patient zero standing in the shadows wearing a devious smile. 

“Trinity? What- Why?” She doesn’t respond. Instead she motions for you to sit in a chair while she binds your ankles, wrists, and mouth. You were so careful not to place any personal indicators in your office and Terry had trained you on how to be aware of your surroundings. Your attention went back to your husband who was lying on the floor also bound and unconscious. Trinity struggled to turn him over on his back. You cringed watching her stroke his semi-erect dick. Despite wanting to wring this bitch’s neck, you manage your best poker face.

“Week after week, I’m forced to see you. You think I haven’t noticed how your mood shifts when you see me. You haven’t done shit to fix me!” Trinity shrieked. You cocked your head to the side wondering how the fuck you missed seeing this breakdown coming. She hadn’t improved, but she was stable. She was now standing in front of you toying with a gun. “I watched yall tonight, you know… I touched myself watching him devour you. It should be me!” She snapped, pressing the barrel of the gun to your temple. You prayed silently, for you, for Terry, for this nutty bitch to at least leave you both alive.

You notice Terry beginning to come to. He’s able to assess the situation and meets your eyes, telling you to remain calm without exchanging any words. You know that you need to keep her attention on you long enough to give Terry time to formulate a plan. Sure, Trinity was winning this fight for now, but Terry would ultimately take the victory in the war. 

“B..ch.. F…c…you!” You manage to mumble through the gag. Your defiance infuriates Trinity. She snatches the gag from your mouth, keeping the gun pressed to your temple. “Say it again! I can’t wait to fuck your fine ass husband. I’m going to do it right in front of you too.”

“Bitch fuck you! They should’ve thrown the book at you when they had the chance!” You screamed knowing that case was a sore spot. Before Trinity could pull the trigger, Terry had freed himself and held her in a bear hug. With one hand, he retrieved the gun, unloaded it, and pinned her down with his knee in her back. Never losing control of Trinity, he was able to undo the ropes she’d bound you with.

Your entire body shook violently as you struggled to search Terry’s abandoned pants pockets for his phone. You choked back tears as you gave the operator your address. Terry fought to restrain himself from permanently silencing the intruder. Not only had she stressed his wife out, but she had assaulted him and violated his home. “I’d never make you wait three weeks Terry.” She addresses your husband. “And maybe if you were better at your job, I wouldn’t have gotten curious about your life. How the fuck are you so successful, but failed me?” The words cut you. You grab the closest thing to you, an umbrella, and lunge at her. 

The thought of failure had consumed and haunted you for months. You’d never failed anything in your life, yet here was your biggest failure obnoxiously taunting you. Terry grabbed the umbrella before it connected. “Bitch I didn’t fail you! Yo mammy failed you. Yo loser ass daddy failed you! It’s not my job to fix you!” She crossed the line a long time ago. That doctor-patient confidentiality bullshit was out the window. You knew you had to verbally cut this bitch deep since Terry wouldn’t allow you to inflict your revenge physically. “Your mama should’ve locked yo ass away when you were 5-years old maniacally obsessing over fictional characters. Weird ass bitch!” Your blood was boiling. 

Officers knock at the door. You hand Terry his pants. He meets your eyes. “Baby go upstairs. I’ll handle this.” 

“What about your head Terry? You’re bleeding.” He shrugged it off. 

“I got this baby. I’ll be upstairs as soon as this is handled. I’m fine.”

You replayed the events of the night in your mind as the hot shower water hit your body. How long had she been stalking you? How did she manage to get inside your home? Terry entered the shower, pulling you into his chest.

“You’re taking some time off, as much as you need. I’m going to file a restraining order and personally see to it that she ends up on the next train back to wherever the fuck she’s from and we are pressing as many charges as it takes to bury her under the psych ward baby. I’m so sorry.” None of this was his fault, but the fact that someone was able to slip past his defenses didn’t sit right with him. After showering Terry carries you to the bed and massages every inch of your body until you drift off to sleep.

Thank you so much for reading. This was a mini-challenge to myself – I overthink and end up abandoning my writings A LOT. I found my angle and finished this in one sitting. I hope you enjoyed, but I appreciate the feedback whether you did or not 🫶🏾

[some-lost-fox]

So there was a Reddit post a while back, talking about Yuu's scars from overblots. So... How would the boys react to Overblot scars <3

Trigger Warnings:

Possible OOC for the boys, no beta, hurt (bcs scars) and comfort <3

Any other important info?: Yuu actively hides the scars

Heartslabyul (You are here!) - Savanaclaw - Octavinelle - Scarabia - Pomefiore - Ignihyde - Diasomnia

HEARTSLABYUL

Riddle Rosehearts

- In all honesty, Riddle at first didn't notice that his overblot caused more problems

- However, he did notice the fact you started to cover up your neck, but if he approached you with it, you just shrugged him off with "It's just getting really cold!"

- Gaslight, gaslight, gaslight, that was YOUR idea.

- Was the poor Riddle concerned about you? Absolutely. But was there anything he could do? Not really, he did his best to support you, even sometimes turning a blind eye to the dress code. (He did suffer teasing tho, but he was able to put people into their place)

- The problem sadly only got worse, with each overblot, more scars appeared. More clothes to hide them.

- Eventually, there was nowhere to run, lies ran out, and there was just the pure confrontation.

- It was in that moment, Riddle realized how much you were suffering. In silence.

- From scar around your neck (that you hesitantly chocked out with tears that was from him) to burn mark on your leg.

- He saw it all, and you felt awful. The secret was out, and you wanted to hide. He was never supposed to see.

- Yet he took your hand, held it softly, as if you were made of glass. There was sadness, and warmth in his eyes.

"I wish you told be this earlier. You matter to me. Please, don't hide this from me."

👑👑👑

Ace Trappola

- Ace sadly has a single braincell, which is shared with Deuce. And Grim.

- So, he absolutely did not realize that you got injured, not in the slightest.

- The random aah scarf you were wearing? He easily bought the 'I'm cold' excuse.

- But he noticed, or better said, he found out.

- It was just another boring class, when your sleeve ended up somehow scrolling up, and the nasty suction mark scar from Azul's overblot was perfectly visible on on it.

- You didn't realize until Ace snatched you by wrist, lied to Crewel that you were feeling sick and left the class.

- You were confused, as he was quiet, not saying a single word but dragging you into infirmary.

- He took a bandage, and wrapped it around the mark

- You realized what he noticed, and just as you were about to open your mouth, he hushed you.

"You got hurt because of me. I'm... Sorry. You better tell me if it happens again!!"

"Why should it happen again?"

"We have luck to get involved with overblots..."

♥️♥️♥️

Deuce Spade

- As mentioned, he shares his braincell with Ace, and Grim.

- Unlike Ace, however, he noticed something... odd, about you.

- Ever since Riddle's overblot, you started to wear a scarf... in fall?

- It reminded him of his mother, she also had the tendency to hide things from him.

- So when he asked, he was sad he got a lie as a response from you ("Just cold, don't worry")

- But he was willing to accept it, until the next Overblot with Leona.

- He immediately noticed the way you held your side, trying to stay calm and not show you were in pain.

- The second Leona was dealt with, he grabbed first aid kit, and immediately went to treat the wound.

- He was so shocked, as the wound was of magical property, no matter how the poor model student tried to help, the scars ended up forming - an ugly lion scratch.

- You wanted to cry, currently just from the pain

- Deuce held you close, letting you cry in his arms, not saying a word.

- After a while, you calmed down, and your eyes couldn't help but go to the ugly scar... Hatred slowly forming, not towards Leona, but towards yourself... You got wounded, aga......

"It shows you are brave, please, don't hate yourself over this. Makes you look strong."

♠️♠️♠️

Cater Diamond

- Cater LOVES taking photos, so when a scarf appeared around your neck, he thought it was a weird choice to wear

- "It's really fashionable where I'm from!" It was a lie, but Cater just accepted it

- But he did give you a side eye, each time your hands rubbed the scarf... Which happened suspiciously whenever Riddle was around.

- However, he wasn't stupid unlike the two first years that always got themselves into trouble

- However he thought there was a different reason for the scarf.... (and thought that you and Riddle were an item, oh boy he made so many rambling posts about that)

- Sadly, one day you were way too warm, and the scarf was killing you. So you just loosened it up, just a little bit more...

- And Cay-Cay just had a good (terrible) timing.

- "Come here! Let's take a photo together~ Cay-Cay and Prefect~"

- Snap, snap, snap.... you got dizzy from all the photos and flashes of the camera on his phone.

- Cater was checking the phones, being very picky about which he was going to choose (he wanted the prefect to look absolutely perfectly, because that's what you were to him)

- But then, in one of the photos, he saw it, the scar you were trying to hide. Clear mark from Riddle.

- Cater was shocked, and it made SO much sense. He pulled you close, a small hug, which caused you to be confused

"Why did you hide it?"

"Didn't want to make anyone worried."

"SMH. That's exactly what you just did!"

♦️♦️♦️

Trey Clover

- The Heartslabyul dad noticed you, very quickly.

- After dealing with Riddle's overblot, he noticed the next few days you were fidgety, and tried to dodge Riddle.

- The scarf was a big red flag. But any attempt at talking about it was met with you changing topics, or running away

- You would not talk about it. You didn't accept help. (What a headache...)

- So, he decided to help in a... unique way. Sweets. Tarts.

- Oh, he started to make way more, which did not escape Ace and Deuce, who were curious

- Too bad, they failed to get any information out of him. If you weren't going to tell him, he wasn't going to tell anyone else. He knew better than to break trust!

- So, even tho he didn't get to see the scar, he assumed there was one. And atleast, he was going to support you like this.

- So when you were relaxing, at the couch, and sipping a warm tea (while being covered in a clover-themed blanket you got from Trey) Trey decided to sit next to you

- He pulled you close, frowning a bit at the scarf around your neck (and a glove nowadays too, probably something from Azul's overblot...) but his gaze was... simply soft.

- He wasn't going to push you, he could wait.

"Whenever you are ready to share your secrets with me, know that I will be here, no matter what, you mean a lot to me."

🍀🍀🍀

[torimidori2-blog]

As a person who is constantly paranoid, I'm with you on this. Videos that center themselves around politics tend to stress me out, especially since large groups of fascists are getting together to try and take away the progress we've made throughout decades of fighting. As a black transmasc enby, I already know what people are thinking of my existence. I already know the opinions of those who want to hurt me. I already know that people like me are dying all the time. Why would I want to waste my energy reading another article about another black person being killed by a cop, or another trans man being sexually assaulted by airport security, or another gay person being beaten up or kicked out of a public establishment because they were seen with their partner being lovey dovey in public? My heart goes out to all people affected by bigotry every day, but my ears can't be open to everything bad that happens in the world. A person can only take so much before they begin to lose hope in humanity. That's why it's so important to focus your attention to the positives. We need to focus on ways we personally can change the world around us. It doesn't have to be this grand gesture that revolutionizes everything and jumpstarts a new era. It can be something small, like helping your friends and family, or teaching yourself a new skill that will help you in the long run. The more we cater to our mental wellbeings the better we'll be able to adapt to serious change, and I know that watching all the political videos that focus on the negatives won't help us adapt to anything. All that will do is make us mope about how things will get worse.

Hi. Things are bleak, I know that. I know that we paid for Trump's last term with blood and it is likely the price will be blood again.

But listen to me. LISTEN.

You do not have to force yourself to witness horrors as an act of activism. It is not a form of activism. You can put your phone down, you can block that horrific video. We cannot win if you cannot fight and you will not be able to fight if you are hopeless.

Do not let them guilt you into this. People who are exhausted are easier to walk over. Take care of yourself, find community where you find joy.

[okjeanantony]

Woman in the Meadows

Garden of Eden,

city of god, descended afar,

awake in arms, breathe in wings,

nature springs.

You fly into stars,

you sit in meadows,

scented by petals

from flowers you pick,

a picnic in the soft grass.

Your soles, your soul,

light on toes,

through trails you sing,

pick daffodils,

melodies trailing back.

With loving hands

you frolic,

fingertips lend touch

to blooms in your paradise.

The garden, with your pair of eyes,

even when it’s hard to see,

blinded by light, asking the sky,

“Is anyone looking at me?”

Chatterbox, syllables loud,

headsets, pamphlets out,

“as you can see, ladies and gentlemen…”

In the painting, legend says,

she lived beyond the meadows,

dancing with petals,

forever searching.

Framed on painted walls,

in the silence of passing shoes—

no flash, no touch,

no interruption.

The legend lives on

in heads that sprawl,

as you did in those meadows,

catching butterflies,

spinning without Juilliard or stage,

no ballerina.

Studied by scholars, known in fables,

her story taught in history’s tales,

bloomed in rooms, consumed by listening ears,

the teacher grabs our eyes—

she says, “as the story goes…”

The woman in the meadows,

with her almond brown locks

and gardened petals,

never lost,

only found in gardens

where her dreams cradled in song,

mornings long,

and her face kissed by the sun,

clouds of none.

Her spirit welcomed by the breeze,

searching her skin,

as cherubs cater to the winds.

The woman in the meadows

dances till it ends,

hears the rivers bend,

as they say,

the woman in the meadows,

her raison d’être,

the garden that confessed to her

their love and need

for the woman in the meadows.

Pages flipped to finished,

held by the back cover,

our eyes let go

with our teacher’s mouth closed.

The story ran to its end,

our hearts filled cold,

bones sold,

and the chalice of hope emptied.

She lived in words,

the ones we remembered,

and others rehearsed.

We’ll never see her—

only in walls, in words, in minds—

the woman of the meadows,

lived in a place only our ears will ever see,

while our eyes remain faithfully blind.

[megamindsecretlair]

Baby, I'm Yours

Pairing: Alex Cross x John Sampson x Black!Fem!/ Plus Size reader

Warnings: 18+, Minors DNI, You are in charge of your own reading experience. Intentional use of AAVE. Cursing, threesome, D/s lite, SMUT, PWP, PIV, oral (male receiving), hair pulling, praise kink, spanking, dirty talk, rough sex, orgasm denial, use of vibrator, rope, and blindfold, all consensual. Sorry if I missed some. There is a tiny spoiler if you never read the books or watched the first episode.

Summary: You traveled often for work and it was rare to make it back home to D.C. But when you did, your first call was always to your very best friends, John Sampson and Alex Cross. Falling back into old routines, you reminisce over your college days. But, when things turn steamy, both men prove that they still have some tricks up their sleeves.

Word Count: 7,300k

AO3 Link

A/N: If you see this, no you didn't. Can you blame me????? The first five minutes broke me. Toss a coin to your blogger by leaving a comment, gif, or unhinged ask.

Your hand paused on the restaurant’s doors as you caught a glimpse of your two favorite guys in the entire world through the glass. They never aged a day, both always looking good as the day you met in college. They had a little seasoning now but just looking at them had you out of breath.

John had let his beard grow out, nice and thick. Alex wasn’t too far behind, with a sheen on his beard from the overhead lights that just made him look extra delicious. These men…

You sighed and opened the door and a cold blast of wind hit you in the face, whipping up your hair. You fought with stray hairs as the hostess greeted you and asked for your name. “I’m meeting up with friends, they’re over there,” you said, pointing to your men.

Two of MPD’s finest and they were clueless that you had even walked in. They were engaged in some kind of intense conversation, heads bent towards each other. The hostess took your coat but you only had eyes for them. This. This was what you needed.

On the rare occasion you swung back home, your first stop was always them. Always. 

Finished with the hostess, you made your way through the new and hip restaurant that opened up. It catered to the yuppie Georgetown crowd with its distressed white brick, low ceiling, and mason jar candles on every table. It was supposed to give off old money vibes while remaining current. It only came off pretentious.

“I seem to have found two handsome men who have no business being single at their big ages,” you said by way of announcement. 

John and Alex had their heads ducked close to each other, but each lifted their heads at your announcement. John broke into a wide grin, immediately standing up and giving you a hug. He smelled so good, like honey bourbon and woodsmoke. His thick arms wrapped around you, enveloping you in the way you secretly craved. He made you feel tiny and delicate. Soft.

Alex was slower to get up, that rare grin on his face transforming him into someone more boyish. He stood up and tapped John on the arm. “Let our girl go. Hogging her and shit, man,” he said. 

He pried John’s arms off of you and you giggled while Alex took his turn hugging you. He smelled equally as delicious with something more subtle, more clean. You inhaled deeply and felt your body relax in the presence of two such strong men. 

Alex held out your chair for you and you sat down first, because you knew they wouldn’t until you did. There was a glass of wine already waiting for you. You looked between the two, narrowing your eyes.

John hid his grin behind his hand but you turned your attention to Alex. He lifted an eyebrow at you and you tapped the side of the glass. You lifted it and took a tiny sip, sighing in pleasure at the taste.

“Alex ordered this for me,” you said.

John slapped the table and laughed, looking between the both of you. “You just as bad as him. How did you know?” He asked.

“You have a tell, Johnny,” you said. 

John groaned playfully and rolled his eyes. “Beautiful, gorgeous, love of my life. What must I do to get you to stop calling me that?” He asked. 

You giggled and shrugged your shoulders. “Give it up man, she just likes the way you respond when she does,” Alex said.

You rested your chin in your hand and looked at him. “Are you trying to shrink me, Sugar?” You asked.

John laughed while Alex’s shit eating grin fell from his face. “Alright now,” he said.

“Oh, he can dish it out but can’t take it, huh?” You asked and laughed. A waiter swung by and handed you the menu. You googled the menu before you arrived. You didn’t want to dilly dally. You were only in town for a few days and you knew they were in the middle of a tough case. You didn’t want to miss a second of tonight.

“Alright boys, you know the drill. Drop them drawers,” you said. 

Johnny and Alex laughed, shaking their heads at you. You were oh, so, very serious but it was time to eat first. You all ordered your respective dishes, getting right back into the swing of things as if you never left Washington D.C. 

Alex and John regaled you with all the little things you missed. Things Jannie and Damon had gotten up to. 

“Yeah, Damon got accepted to early Mozart,” Alex said, beaming with pride. His little cheeks puffed out and you fell even more madly in love with him. 

“Get out, really!” You said. “Go head, Damon. I know that was Maria’s doing. She always played so beautifully,” you said. 

Alex’s eyes dimmed but it didn’t snuff out. Not like before. You looked at John who gave you a subtle nod. You took a sip of wine to hide your own nod of acceptance. Good. John had your boy’s back, as always. 

“She really did. He plays just like her,” Alex said.

“I’m so glad. Let me know if there’s ever a recital. I don’t care what I’m doing, I’ll catch a quick flight or train right back here for that!” You said. 

Your food arrived and you thanked the waiter. Steam rose off your lamb covered in a light gravy drizzle, with mashed potatoes with chives, and a vegetable medley. It smelled delicious and the taste was even better. You took a bite, moaning at the taste.

“That never gets old,” John said with a chuckle. He opted for a good old fashioned steak, nearly mirroring Alex’s plate down to the sear marks. 

“Oh hush. Ya’ll act like ya’ll don’t enjoy food too. Like when we were shit faced at three am trying to look for a taco spot,” you said.

“Oh, see, why you gotta bring that up?” Alex groaned, cutting into his steak. 

You giggled, pointing your fork at him. “Because a certain someone thought it’d be a great idea to sing in the quad,” you said. 

“She is never going to let you live that down,” John said with another chuckle. You looked at him and savored that deep chuckle. He was so damn fine, so warm, so welcoming. Your panties had been damp since the moment you stepped into the restaurant, but the more you spent in their presence, the more your panties were soaked. 

“Says the man who ran naked through said quad on a dare?” You asked and swung your gaze to him. John grimaced and dug into his food, muttering under his breath.

“You know, she fails to realize that she’s the mastermind behind all of these little dares and mishaps. Was it not her idea to get shitfaced at 3am instead of studying?” Alex asked, bringing a piece of steak to his mouth. 

He wrapped his lips around the fork deliberately, methodically, and your eyes dropped to his lips as he chewed. He even licked the corner of his mouth. Bastard. You shifted in your seat while John leaned back in his.

“Yeaah, and wasn’t she also the same one who dared me to streak?” He asked. He gave you an assessing look. The type of look that could probably melt the North Pole. You blinked innocently at both of them. 

“I have no idea what you’re talking about. I offer suggestions. You two are grown. Little ole me can’t change your minds,” you said, making your voice extra sugary sweet. You took a tiny sip of your wine and cut into your lamb once more.

The table was so quiet, other sounds of the restaurant started to filter in. The clash of silverware on plates, cups hitting the table, chatter. You looked back up to see twin expressions of “bullshit” stamped all over their faces. 

You burst into laughter, hiding your mouth behind your napkin lest they see any food. Your stomach cramped from laughing so hard, pushing the napkin into your mouth to muffle your sounds. 

“Ya’ll gon’ get us thrown outta this fancy place,” you said.

“Us?” John asked.

“Girl, you must have our roles reversed. You have always been the dangerous one here,” Alex said. He leveled you with a stare hot enough to make heat flash through your body. Your thighs tingled so you looked away, allowing him that small victory. But your eyes only caught on John’s, whose eyes were on fire. You were pretty sure he was undressing you with the way his eyes slowly drooped down to your generous cleavage. Your dress grew a little tighter.

Your lower belly flipped with desire and you struggled to swallow. Did they turn the temperature up in the restaurant? Good god, you were not going to survive the night. You took a deeper pull from your wine glass. 

“I am the innocent one here. An innocent bystander in your shenanigans. A passerby, if you will,” you said. 

John and Alex shared a look before erupting into laughter, shaking their heads and mumbling to each other about the crazy things you got into as a youth. You waved your napkin in their direction.

“I can’t stand ya’ll,” you said with a giggle. 

You updated them on your work and the last few places you visited. You sat back after your meal with a contented sigh and draped the napkin across your lap. “I hadn’t stayed long enough in the past few cities to even visit anywhere. I was in New York last week, didn’t even make it to the museum,” you said and pouted.

“Whaaat? You didn’t get to visit a museum you’ve been to at least a hundred times?” John asked. 

“Shut up,” you said, sticking your tongue out at him. He lifted an eyebrow and you schooled your features, giving him a sweet smile. “It’s still one of my favorite museums, so yes, I have the right to be bummed.” 

Alex chuckled. “Do you remember when you came up with an entire, elaborate plan to break into the museum just to see the tattoo exhibit?” Alex asked.

“Can you blame me? Tattoos are art,” you said. 

John huffed. “Tattoos are a statement. Nothing more, nothing less,” he said. 

You rolled your eyes and looked to Alex for help. “Will you get your boy?” You asked. 

Alex chuckled and waved off John. “We had some crazy times, didn’t we?” Alex asked looking between you and John.

“Crazy, amazing times,” John said, looking pointedly at you. You fingered the stem of your glass, trailing your nail against it. 

You grew unexpectedly shy, feeling as if this was somehow new and familiar all at once. Every time you all came together, it was like lightning in a bottle. You wanted to store it and stare at it, day after day. Night after night. Forever. Instead, you smirked at both of them. 

“We gotta create new memories too,” you said, finishing off your glass. 

“I like the sound of that. Sugar?” John asked, not even glancing at Alex. You did, however. You always worried what this was like for him. If he even enjoyed it. If it somehow hurt him. 

Alex glanced at you as well, giving you a wink. “I think our girl is used to getting what she wants. And she’s been mighty quick with the jabs tonight,” Alex said, lowering his voice. You gasped softly. You looked to John for help but he only smiled and leaned back in his seat.

“Quicker than the Greatest himself,” John said.

You giggled to hide the fact that you didn’t know what to fucking say. You always had some kind of lick back, but fuck, they were making you sweat tonight! You shifted in your seat and shrugged. “Why shouldn’t I get what I want? Don’t I deserve it?” You asked, turning doe eyes to John. 

He faltered, his lips parting a fraction. You blinked a few times and reached out to touch his forearm. “Haven’t I been good?” You asked. 

“And she fights dirty as hell,” John said, shaking his head and recovering. Alex’s chuckle brought your attention to him and he leaned forward, quirking an eyebrow at you. 

“She thinks you’re her ally,” Alex said.

“You can’t read minds, Dr. Cross,” you said, leaning forward to match his energy. 

Alex hummed and nodded his head. “You wanna test that? Want to see if John’s on your side or mine?” He asked. 

You looked back at John who had leaned forward as well. You stared into his big, warm brown eyes. His eyes narrowed, testing you. You tilted your head. He lifted an eyebrow. “Game on, Sugar,” you said to Johnny with a wink. 

He chuckled as Alex called for the check. The anticipation nearly killed you as the waiter approached. He told the waiter, no, you did not want dessert. You shrieked and Alex chuckled, requesting one slice of chocolate cake to go. You grinned with a giggle. You were going to need something after they wore you out!

“Always getting what she wants,” John said, shaking his head. 

“That’s what she thinks anyway,” Alex said. 

You glanced between them, at the shared looks and smirks. You gasped and pointed to both. “You’ve been plotting!” 

They laughed. John shook his head. “Why would we do that?” Alex asked with a wink. The waiter returned with Alex’s card and the chocolate cake in a small paper bag, cutting off your protests. 

You sputtered as the men stood up. John pulled out your chair while Alex grabbed your hand and helped you stand. John whistled low and hummed. “Missed that ass, for sure. You look beautiful. I’m sorry I didn’t say anything earlier,” he said.

Your thighs practically burned at this point. Tingling pinpricks of desire. “You can make it up to me in about ten minutes,” you said.

Alex stepped closer to you and lifted your hand to his mouth. He kissed the inside of your wrist, sliding his rough hand against your softer one. “For someone so drop dead gorgeous and intelligent, you still don’t see the danger you’re in,” he said as softly as if reciting poetry. 

“Danger?” You said.

“Mhm, you sure you don’t have anywhere to be in the morning?” John asked. You looked over your shoulder. You forgot that quick how damn tall John was. You craned your neck as he tilted his head down at you. 

“Oh, we’re cocky tonight,” you said. 

John answered with a grin. He stepped back and allowed Alex to take the lead on escorting you out. Alex grabbed your coat from the hostess and helped you get in while John went ahead, grabbing his car from the valet. 

While you waited by the booth, you stood between both men not feeling an ounce of D.C. weather. Earlier, the wind about your ankles at the bottom of your dress was cold enough to make your teeth chatter. Now, there was just the inherent heat rolling off two powerful men. This was it. This was heaven.

You smirked at your own little joke while the valet brought John’s huge truck around. John helped you climb into the front seat while Alex took the back. “We couldn’t take Alex’s car…?” You pouted. It was damn hard to climb in heels, in the winter, after a six hour flight with a screaming baby in your ear. 

“I can’t fit in that matchbox car,” John said, pulling away from the restaurant. 

“Hey, easy,” Alex said. You giggled and turned around to look at him. 

“I happen to like your car,” you said. 

“Sucking up gets you no favors,” Alex said.

You gasped. “I was not sucking up!” You said, offended he would read you so well. You turned back around with a small huff and John laughed. 

“You would like his car. It’s low to the ground so your ass could fit,” he said. 

You shrieked again, turning wide eyes to Johnny. “You take that back,” you said.

“Is she…did she try to give me an order?” John asked, looking in the rearview mirror at Alex. Alex’s dark chuckle was downright nasty. Your belly clenched listening to it. 

“You know what, I think she did,” Alex said. They laughed and joked on the short ride to your hotel. Somehow this morphed to an understanding that this would always take place at your hotel. 

Alex had his kids and Nana Mama at the house and while John’s bed may have worked, you all agreed that you needed the biggest bed available at all times. Plus, at the hotel, you were guaranteed not to be interrupted. 

John slipped into an available parking spot and you led the way inside the upscale hotel. Alex whistled as he saw it and you waved him off. “Oh you know the company, looks matter,” you said, waving him off. 

At the elevator doors, the boys naturally took up their places on either side of you. You almost felt like royalty, getting escorted by bodyguards. Very sexy bodyguards. This was like every bodyguard romance you ever read and you grinned. 

An older couple joined you just as the gilded elevator doors opened. You pinched your lips but didn’t say anything. Fuuuuuck, you hoped their room was on the next floor or something. You wanted to tell them to catch the next one. But John put his hand on your lower back and pushed you inside when the doors opened.

You followed, if only to hurry everything along, and the couple entered behind you with a smile. Before the doors closed, a man in a hotel uniform entered carrying fresh towels. Good fucking grief. 

You shifted your weight to one of your heels, putting you closer to John. He wrapped his arm around your back, hand sliding down to your ass. You gasped, looking up at him and he licked his lips. “Behave,” he mouthed to you. 

You ran your tongue over your canine, ready to tell him about himself, when he squeezed your ass and you almost collapsed against him. The elevator rose and rose and rose while John fondled your ass. You were all the way in the back and everyone else faced forward. The gilded elevator was shiny enough to show parts of your reflection and you looked at John. Was he aware? Was he doing it on purpose? This seemed new, even for him. 

You gasped again when rough fingers grabbed your thigh through the slit in your dress. You turned to Alex who winked at you. The elevator stopped and the staff member got off to deliver the towels. 

The doors slid closed and then the ascent made you jerk. But the dueling hands on your body, pawing at you in public, made you tremble with need. You had other lovers, some you tended to hit up when you reached their city again, but there was no one like your two best men. Absolutely no one. They worked in tandem, pushing into your fleshy skin as if it were practiced.

Your clit throbbed, pressure building in your lower belly. You were going to faint, you just knew it. It took all of your concentration not to fall to your knees and suck them both off in the elevator. You knew a guy who could break into the hotel’s security cameras and delete the footage.

The elevator mercifully dinged again and the old couple waved and said goodbye as they got off. Without the cover, John and Alex’s hands disappeared to save your modesty. Fuck that. You were panting and shaky, beyond horny. 

“You do not play fair,” you said, breathless. 

“Never did,” John said as the elevator stopped on your floor. He held the door open for you and waited for you to pass him. Alex followed behind.

“Never will,” Alex said, placing his hand on your lower back and walking with you to your door. Johnny was almost like a real bodyguard, standing a little ways behind you since the hallway wasn’t that big. 

You rolled your eyes as you approached your door, opening it, and the men let you inside first. You turned on lights as you walked further in, immediately shucking off your heels. You moaned as your feet sank into the plush crimson carpet. 

The door closed and then some of the overhead lights winked out. You turned to watch your boys stalking towards you. Alex looked edible in his dark gray turtleneck and dark slacks. He rubbed his beard, smoothing it down as he gave you a full body scan. 

John had a long sleeve wine colored shirt paired with gray slacks. You watched as he rolled up his sleeves, exposing his forearms. He left the lamp light on, but crossed to your window and opened the curtains. 

City lights filtered in, turning the room from just another hotel room to something otherworldly. You were focused on John so you jumped when Alex’s hands rubbed your shoulders. “Relax, it’s just us,” he cooed in your ear. 

John smirked as he crossed the room and turned off the lamp light, bathing the room in a mix of reds, blues, and golds across your floor and the king sized bed. 

“That’s not why I’m jumpy,” you said, out of breath as if you ran a marathon. If they didn’t start soon, you were going to fucking lose it. 

“Where’s your bag?” John asked. 

“Why?” You shivered as Alex’s hands roamed your body, taking in your curves. 

“Damn girl, this body get thicker every time I see you,” he said. You nudged him with your elbow and laughed. 

John opened the closet door and pulled out your bag. “I know your nasty ass always comes…” he said and rummaged through your open suitcase. “Prepared.” He held up your travel vibrator and you giggled. 

“This sounds more like torture than a fun evening for me, boys,” you said. 

“Aww, you think this is for you,” Alex said. His fingers found your zipper and he pulled. The rip-like noise was loud in the suite. He pulled, exposing your back. His fingers followed the zipper, his finger moving down your spine. He hissed. “No bra, John.” 

John groaned, crossing the room to join you. He tugged at the front of your dress, pulling the straps down your arms. He yanked until your breasts popped out and he groaned. “So fucking beautiful,” he said.

You looked down to see him pitching an impressive tent. You reached out to cup him but John tsked at you and moved his hips away. You grunted, blinking through a foggy mind. “Aw come on. Don’t start with the teasing,” you said.

You wanted to cum, dammit. Alex unexpectedly grabbed your arms and drew it behind your back. You gasped, flush against his equally impressive bulge. You couldn’t help arching your back. He rested his head against yours, kissing your cheek. 

“We thought we’d try something a little different tonight. Trust us?” He asked. He nodded to John who tugged off the rest of your dress. Cold air and red light hit your skin and you moaned at the rough way John slipped off your dress. 

“You know I trust you,” you said. John tossed your dress against the couch on the far side of the suite. 

“You remember our safeword, gorgeous?” Alex asked. 

“Safeword?” You tried to look over your shoulder to Alex but he held you firm. Wrists clasped in his much larger hands. Fuck. You hadn’t needed a safeword with these two for quite some time. The sex was never boring, it just evolved into lots of touching and rubbing and slow lovemaking. This…this was definitely different.

John crossed the room once more, licking his lips as his eyes dipped to your nipples. He produced a rope and blindfold in his hand, your vibrator in the other. “What’s your safeword?” John asked. 

John handed the rope to Alex who tied it around your wrists. When he was done, you tested his knot skills. You couldn’t break free even if you really tried. Your thighs trembled. “L-Lemon,” you said.

“There’s our girl. She earned a kiss,” John said, leaning down to capture your lips with his. You moaned, suckling his lips and tasting the bourbon he had earlier. 

John pulled back with a wink and then handed the blindfold to Alex who promptly placed it over your eyes. You pouted, denied the pleasure of seeing them now. John moved away and he started moving in front of you, probably taking off his pants.

“Wait, so I don’t even get to see your dicks?” You asked. Maybe you needed to re-think this whole trust thing. They clearly didn’t know you at all. Best friends your ass. 

Alex swatted you so fast that it took a moment before the sting blossomed on your ass. “Oh, fuck,” you shook, knees buckling. He held you up with one arm around your middle. He pulled you against his still clothed body and then sunk his hand into your panties.

“Fuck, you been like this since the restaurant, haven’t you?” He asked.

“Y-Yes,” you moaned. He didn’t touch you. Instead, he swirled his finger through your damp hair, rubbing the outside of your slit, gathering up all the essence you leaked out. 

“Fuck, fuck,” you moaned, moving your hips. Trying to guide his hand where you wanted. 

John chuckled. “I got her,” he said. John snatched off your panties, yanking it down your legs, over your feet, before you had a chance to yelp. You were completely bare before them and you couldn’t see their reactions.

“Only say your safeword if you mean it,” Alex said. Damn mind reader. You huffed and deflated. 

“Look at that, she earned another kiss,” John said. He gripped your elbow and spun you around so Alex could grab your cheeks and kiss your socks off. He groaned, pushing his tongue into your mouth. Your tongues dueled before John tugged you away. You whimpered, leaning forward. 

“What do I have to do to earn another?” You asked. 

John laughed and kissed below your ear. “Be a good kitten,” he said. 

Your clit throbbed as John pushed you down onto the bed on your knees. Your ass hung in the air and John wasted no time giving you a few swats. You hissed after each one. He smacked your ass like a punching bag, hard as hell. Each bloom of heat went straight to your pussy, making you drip down your leg. 

You heard more rustling as Alex presumably took off his clothes as well. You missed the slow teases. The easy loving. But you could definitely get used to this. Used to the way they pushed you around. 

Soft buzzing clicked on and then John shoved it into your pussy, to the highest setting. “Oh shit!” You screamed out, falling flat on your face with no arms to support you. 

“Shh, shh, shh, you’re not allowed to cum yet,” John said. 

“Why?” You gasped, biting your bottom lip to keep from screaming out. Your body had been hyper aware all day, stuck in a state of lust as you pictured how tonight would go. The easy banter, the memories rushing to the forefront. The way you liked to give each other shit and tease. 

You barely focused during your earlier meeting, thoughts of playing hide the sausages on constant repeat in your mind. The multiple orgasms, that was your favorite part. So far, they held the reigning count for how many times you could come in one night with no break. And now….they said you couldn’t come? 

“And before your bratty ass thinks of cumming anyway, just know, you won’t like that punishment,” Alex said. “If you think John hits hard…”

You shivered and shook, your whole body bowing under the weight of that dangling thought. You were tempted to do it any fucking way. Who did they think they were? But it was really nice when they gave you your two rewards. You wanted more. Okay…fine…you’d play along. For now.

“Fuck,” you moaned as the vibrator moved as your pussy clenched around it. John kept a firm grip on it, not allowing it to go too deep inside. 

John leaned down and bit your ass. You moaned, kicking your feet. He stepped forward and trapped your feet between his legs. He bit you again. “Good kitten,” he purred. 

Once you were done fighting, he maneuvered you on the bed with ease. Until you straddled a corner of the bed. Alex stepped in front of you, pushing strands of hair from your face. You moaned, already smelling the husky scent of his heavy dick. 

It was cruel that you couldn’t see him. Couldn’t see how hard he was or if he was already leaking pre-cum. You moaned, pussy clenching around the toy once more. John chuckled cruelly behind you. “I don’t think we’re gonna have to wait that long, Sugar. She already did half the work for us,” he said.

“Naw, she can give us more. Open your mouth,” he commanded. 

You whimpered but complied, opening your mouth. You swore that you could already taste him on your tongue. You waited a beat, then two, before Alex chuckled and slapped your face with his dick.

You moaned, feeling the thick tip slap against your cheeks and bounce on your bottom lip. His pre-cum left a few wet spots around your mouth and you leaned forward. John grabbed your hips and pulled you back towards him.

You groaned, denied from both of them. “Let me cum,” you begged. Alex slapped your face with his dick. 

“I said mouth open,” he said.

You pouted but quickly opened your mouth again. John pulled at the vibrator, pushing it in and out of your dripping hole. You moaned, fucking back on it. John groaned, his free hand rubbing and squeezing your ass. 

Alex finally shoved his dick in your mouth, down further than where you would have started. Your jaw popped trying to fit all of him inside. Alex groaned, and gripped your hair to start fucking your mouth. 

The vibrator disappeared and John sank into your pussy on a long, sustained groan. Like he was coming home after being away at war for a year. They were somehow both out of sync and in it. Pulling and pushing you between them like you were a live finger trap for their dicks. 

John gripped your hips and fucked you, fingers digging into your skin, as he stretched you completely around his monster. You screamed around Alex’s dick, wishing more than anything that you could see. 

Male pleasure was its own aphrodisiac between the moans and the looks on their faces. When they threw their head back and lost themselves in you. Fuck, you never got used to that feeling of power. That feeling of sexiness that it brought. That you could tame not one but two powerful Black men. And they denied it to you. 

Alex was no better, gripping your hair and forcing you to take his dick as if John wasn’t there pulling you away. Saliva pooled on either side of your mouth, dripping down your chin. You moaned around his dick, feeling it rub against the inside of your cheek.

Pressure built in your lower belly. Your moans turned frantic, desperate, as you rode them both. As a unit, they both stopped pumping into you. 

“Nooo,” you moaned around Alex’s dick. John treated you to a smack on the ass. He gripped your hair out of Alex’s grasp and pulled you back to lift onto your knees. 

“You. Are. Not. In. Control. Right. Now,” John kissed into your neck and ended it with a lick. Alex grabbed your breasts in his hands, smashing them together so he could lick both of your nipples.

“Fuck,” you moaned. Alex stopped and then the bed dipped as Alex climbed on top, kneeling in front of you. “Now take his dick like a good kitten, and you’ll get to cum. Suck him real good. I’ve seen that nasty ass mouth suck him dry in five minutes flat. Can you beat that?” John asked, nibbling at your earlobe.

Um…what? Your mind was a blur. Empty. Gone. Deceased as Alex shoved his dick back into your mouth and fucked you like there hadn’t been a factory reset on your brain. Your instincts kicked in, aided by your fierce competitive side, as you busted out all of the tricks. It was no longer about playing their game. You just wanted to beat your personal best. Alex moaned and gripped your throat, alternately squeezing and letting go.

John kept his grip on your hair as he fucked into you, slamming your ass on his dick. Loud, lewd smacking and sucking filled the room. Filled with frantic, rushed groaning and grunting. Your moans were pornographic, sucking down Alex like your life depended on it. 

You used your tongue more, teasing the underside of the head while he stroked. “Fuck, fuck,” Alex moaned. 

“She squeezing the fuck outta my dick,” John moaned, slapping your ass just because. “You like taking dick, don’t you?” John asked.

“Mhmm,” you moaned. How long had it been? How long did you still have to go? You took a deep breath and trusted Alex to get deeper, down to his base. You sucked and Alex groaned, his grip on your throat getting tighter. 

“Hmm, fuck,” Alex moaned, cumming down your throat without a warning. 

“Swallow it down,” Alex cooed. “Swallow that shit.” 

You drank deeply, letting his thick cum slide down your throat with ease. Alex tapped your cheek, huffing with spent breaths. He eased out of you and let John push you forward.

“Good kitten, you earned another reward,” he said. He kept a hand on your back as he stroked into you. He pushed forward, making you take all of him, making you take him while he bottomed out and slammed his dick inside. 

“Fuck, fuck, I can’t-, I can’t hold–,” you whined.

“Yes, you can. You want a bigger reward?” John grunted.

“Yesss,” you moaned. 

“Hold on,” John said. “Fuck, good pussy. Good pussy. Good pussy,” he said, getting more and more breathless with each punishing stroke. He slammed into you one last time, unloading a thick load. He filled you to the brim. Tip throbbing against your core. 

You began to whine, limbs shaking. “You can cum, kitten,” John cooed.

You came instantly, flooded relief coursing through your veins as you added to the mix of juices spilling out of you. John fucked you through it, his dick still rock hard and lethal. He brushed against your sweet spot and you leaned forward, trying to get away.

“Mhmm, take that dick, baby. We’ve been dreaming ‘bout this ever since you said you were coming back to town. Dreaming of you taking us again and again and again,” Alex said, pushing you back into position. He kept his hands on your neck, keeping you in place.

“Fuhhh-” you cried, falling into another orgasm. One rolled right into the next one, your eyes rolling back into your head. Your body was slick with sweat. You shivered on John’s dick. Your wrists burned from trying to get loose. Trying to get away. 

You stopped convulsing on John’s dick and he sighed, slapping your ass while he slipped out of your pussy. You groaned, pushing his load out. “Fuck, fuck,” you moaned. 

John gave you one last smack and then grabbed you, yanking you to the edge of the bed and then flipped you over onto your back. You groaned. You were spent. You were done. There was no way you could survive more. 

“You came without permission. Which is okay, you won’t get punished for it. But now we’re going to play a game,” Alex said. The bed dipped under his weight as he got up from the bed. 

“How you feelin’, kitten?” John asked. 

You licked your lips. “Good,” you squeaked. 

Both men chuckled. Like it was sweet. You turned your head listening for any clues on what they were up to. 

“Are you sure?” Alex asked. They moved about the room, switching places, checking in on you as you recovered from a powerful orgasm. 

“Be honest,” John said.

“I’m sure. I can keep going. I like this,” you said. “I missed this.”

John came closer and pecked you on the lips. “So did we.” 

Alex was next to peck you on the lips and then they were gone again, leaving you on the bed alone. 

“We’re going to take turns back in that sweet pussy of yours. If you can guess correctly each time, you get to cum after. If not, we get to fill that pussy up before you get to cum,” Alex explained. 

“Both of you?” You asked. A little panicked. How could you hold off an orgasm with both of them using you until they both filled you? They said it was a set up but it didn’t sink in just how much. They were fucking you like they wanted to keep you. Like they wanted you to stay. You promised yourself that you couldn’t let them hold onto that dream.

You wanted both of them. Heaven knew you couldn’t choose. Both had qualities that you were drawn to. And while you had fun for these trysts, these passionate affairs, you knew that they would hate you eventually. That they would make you choose between them. Both were too proud and possessive to settle for anything less. 

“Both of us,” Alex confirmed. 

“Fuuuck,” you moaned, dropping your head to the bed. They chuckled, growing quiet. A pair of hands gripped you and shoved in. You were still a bit sensitive so you hissed, hands flexing, wishing you could reach out and grab them. 

The dick was huge, massive, splintering you but fuck if you could tell off hand who it belonged to. They were both big. A few more strokes before he stilled. “Uh-uh, Alex?” 

“Very good,” Alex said. He slipped out and then there was a beat before hands pushed your thighs apart. He entered you, stretching you very fucking well. To the point that you were seeing fireworks behind the blindfold. 

“J-John,” you moaned. 

“She thinks she knows us,” John cooed and leaned down to kiss you. You kissed him back with hungry fervor before he pulled away, pinching your nipple as he slipped out of you. You moaned as he stepped away.

Next, hands pushed down on either side of your waist and he entered you slowly, methodically. “Oh fuck,” you moaned. “John,” you cried.

He chuckled and rewarded you with another kiss. “She’s too good at this, Sugar,” John said. 

Alex chuckled as well as John slipped out. Your lips were fucking parched, tummy ready to cave in. You were so close to the brink again. Too close to tipping over. 

One entered you for a few strokes before stepping away and the other took over. They went back and forth, making you dizzy, unable to keep up with the differences between the both of them. “Fng, ung, ung,” you moaned, getting wetter by the second. 

“Making a sexy fucking mess,” Alex moaned while he was in you, balls deep, having you making incoherent sounds, singing the national anthem in latin for all you knew. 

He left and then it was back to the silence. Nothing but your squelching pussy accepting both of them. Both of them were a perfect fit. You were pretty sure that it was John who entered you this time, slamming into you a little rougher. Your legs shook pathetically. 

You whined and moaned, a cramp stabbing you in the lower belly from the overwhelming need to cum. To release this tension. This one slipped out and your pussy was still clenching, still seeking to be filled. 

You cried in frustration, tears leaking down the sides of your face. “Please,” you whispered.

Alex’s scent washed over you as he leaned down and gave you a sweet, scorching kiss. “Which one of us entered you first?” Alex asked against your lips.

“What?” You asked. Did he…did this motherfucker really think you remembered who entered you first?????

“Time’s ticking, kitten,” John asked, slapping his dick against your pussy. He rubbed his tip through your slick folds and you cried out, twisting, trying to get away from how good he felt. 

“I-I-.” Fuck, who had it been? You tried to think past the haze, past the fog, but you were coming up empty. Fuck it, you had a fifty-fifty chance of being right. “Alex. It was Alex,” you panted, but said it with enough authority to convince them you were right. As if you could will it.

They were silent for a moment. So long that you thought you got it wrong. Fuck, how were you going to survive? 

“Very good, baby,” Alex said. He kissed you once more, moaning around your lips. He pulled away and gently pushed you to the side, freeing your hands from your restraints. He rubbed feeling back into your arms with John’s assistance. You moaned and sighed as feeling returned to your limbs. He gripped your thighs and pulled your ass to the end of the bed.

He didn’t tease, thank god. He just fed you his dick and you moaned, loudly. John chuckled, dropping onto the bed with a huff and grabbing your left titty. He wrapped his lips around your nipple, sucking, teasing, nibbling as Alex rocked into you quickly but softly. 

John played with your other nipple, sucking it into his mouth. “Can you take me too, kitten?” John asked, rubbing his beard against your skin. You moaned, reaching out to grip and tug at his hair. 

“Let me taste you,” you begged. 

“That’s our girl,” Alex cooed as John scooted up the bed to land next to your face. He leaned on his side while he pushed his dick through your lips, stroking in and out with more gentleness than he displayed all night. You stayed connected like that, being the bridge between them.

“I’m gonn-” you moaned around John’s dick as you came on Alex’s. His dick throbbed as you flooded his dick with your essence. He moaned, stroking until he followed right after. John followed shortly behind with a soft grunt, spilling down your throat. You drank him down as well, slurping up every single drop. 

The room filled with your combined heavy breathing. Both men slipped out of you and then the blindfold was lifted. You blinked into the dark room, the window all but a distant memory in your mind. 

The city was still so bright and vibrant, cars moving up and down the road. You looked between your sexy men, grinning up at them. You yawned and stretched, your arms popping from being held behind you for so long. 

“Come on, let’s give you your real reward in the bath,” John said.

“I can’t survive another one,” you said sleepily, leaning forward to drop your cheek against Alex’s stomach. He chuckled and lifted your chin, stealing a kiss. 

“Yes you can. Unless there’s a certain word you wanna say?” He asked.

You bit your lip as you looked at him and then over your shoulder at John. His smile grew and then you turned back to Alex. 

“Lead the way then,” you said with a put upon sigh. You all chuckled as you headed to the bathroom with your vibrator where they proceeded to let you cum a few more times. 

The end.

Ya'll know me by now, I can't help it! The Secret Alex Cross Files

Taglist: @planetblaque @westside-rot @babybratzmaraj @chaos-4baby @blackerthings

@amethyst09 @ciaqui @we-outsiiiide @browngirldominion @iv0rysoap

@thecookiebratz @harmshake @00aijia00 @judymfmoody @multiversefanfics

@tvchi @softimgyu @thecapodomme

[rainytomorrows]

Deadpool / Wolverine x reader | Domestic headcanons

I am legitimately moments from collapse so I will cope. Again. Domestic headcanons!!

Can't lie to y'all I'm a big fan of the poolverine x reader poly trope so. This is all made with that in mind.

Words: 950

♡~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~♡

Wade > Will make you food sometimes to cheer you up, but it's just straight childish. Hot chocolate with a mountain of whipped cream and chocolate shavings, a stack of pancakes (a full foot taller than it needs to be) with yet another mountain of whipped cream and syrup, the type of stuff you only expect in some old cartoon > Comes home with the DUMBEST socks. You have to physically pull him away from those stores that specialize in funky socks. He came home with 5 different hero themed socks once (One was him, obviously. He had a wolverine one, Spiderman, Thor, and one pair of Jesus socks whom he claimed was also a superhero) > Butterfly kiss bandit. One kiss is NEVER enough for this asshole. At the least, if you dare try to give him one (1) kiss on the lips before going somewhere, he follows you when you pull away. Does that make sense? Like, you kiss him and as you're pulling away he'll follow to press another kiss, and however many he can get in before you're actually pushing him away. > Or Logan has to punch him to get his own kiss in > So annoying. If you spend too long without giving him attention, you can't expect to work on ANYTHING alone > Laying on your lap when you sit to work, draping himself over you if you stand up to work on something, practically a blanket if you're laying down to work on something > Very thoughtful gift giver though. Maybe he can't always afford some expensive gift, but, he always comes back from cheap stores (Dollar tree, Salvation Army, that strange family owned second hand store that Logan swears smells like blood somewhere) with something strangely catered to you. Funny trinket weirdly related to a story you told about one you'd seen in a store back on a trip out of state when you didn't have enough money and was heartbroken to come home without. A shirt that would fit perfect with those pants you just bought (he adores everything you wear and can only hope to cheer you up with more) > For SURE replaced your underwear with the dumbest merchandise you've ever seen once. I'm fully convinced. At least put it in with the rest. I can't imagine he wouldn't find some corny ass Deadpool thong and beg you to try it on. No one is sure if he just finds it funny or actually thinks it's cool.

Logan > Much more sensible when it comes to making you food. Knows how to make a good home cooked meal, some recipes he gained along the way like some grandma with a box of old stained recipe sheets > Makes tea for sure. Gruff as hell but, when he's really needed, he shows up with a hot cup. Tries to make himself all tough, like if it's been a long week. "Chamomile. Helps you calm down, or some shit." > He has pride. He might act like he's constantly annoyed by the two of you, but god forbid he seems like a bad boyfriend. Ever. > "I can hold my own bags?" "Fucking give them to me." > Like aggressively gentlemanly. Has the spirit just not the vocab > Lets Wade know if he thinks he's doing a terrible job as a boyfriend. Don't get me wrong, they love each other. They're each other's boyfriends too. But sometimes Logan feels like a glorified coach. > Wade will be particularly annoying one day, you had a LONG ass shift, and he's attention starved. You're clearly not having it, when Wade's draping himself over your shoulder while you're cooking and Jesus Christ this guy is heavy. You barely have time to react when Logan is throwing him over his shoulder lumberjack style. "Get the hell off" (He's already off, thanks to Logan) > Wade convinced him to wear a cop outfit once as a joke because of how he acts on dates and the such ('policing' wade and his behavior), but, ended up being too into it. Both of them. While still a little embarrassed, Logan could fit the role and Wade couldn't fit in his pants anymore. > Definitely tries to get you to the gym with him, however hard that is > If you like going: He just kinda tries to join you, almost lost puppy esque. If you don't, he's nearly bribing you to come along with him. I feel like he's the type to just have a little home gym though. Doesn't strike me as a public workout guy. I wouldn't know. > I'm unsure how to word this- I think he's a demanding cuddler. You are NOT in charge. He's holding you like a teddy bear, not as in like hugging- like you're his stuffy or something. You're almost unsure it counts so much as cuddling, so much as him just holding you. Does that make sense? You're near rag dolling when he cuddles with you because he just refuses to let someone else have control while cuddling, not as an insecurity thing that's just how he likes to cuddle > He will let you have control on occasion if it's clearly been a hard day. You may hold him if someone was a jerk to you today (Wade doesn't count. "you chose to let him live here instead of sleeping outside." "Hey!") > Don't try and excuse it with "I have to make breakfast" he'll just get up still holding you. Like the stubborn ass he and Wade always are. He's awkwardly holding you under your armpits (hugging you like a kid in the hallway holds their stuffy) as if that's supposed to be the optimal way to cook. Still has that gruff look the whole time btw ♡~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~♡

Hope you guys enjoyed, as always! I live to fill the heart and soothe the soul. Let me know if you guys want a part two- I may be able to crank some more out. Have a good day/night, and a great life!!

[punisheddonjuan]

Sorry to hijack this post, but I've frequently encountered similar attitudes when it comes to attending the opera or a live classical music performance. Ask any regular opera patron and they'll tell you that opera companies desperately need young people to come out to performances, that they can't keep solely relying on the financial support of a rapidly shrinking circle of upper class patrons. I'll hear "oh but it's so bougie going to the opera", no it's not, there's a reason why "Va, pensiero" from Verdi's Nabucco became an anthem for the Italian revolutionaries during the Risorgimento. "Opera only caters to elite tastes, besides I don't know Italian/French/German/Russian etc." I guarantee that it doesn't, and most modern opera houses use some kind of subtitle technology in their performance. "Attending the opera or symphony is too expensive." If you're under 30 or a student I guarantee that you can get absurdly cheap tickets. The Canadian Opera Company here in Toronto used to (they still might, I don't know) offer $25 tickets to under-30s, $35 if you wanted the best available seats the day of, which is how I wound up with seats that would've cost me hundreds of dollars otherwise on more than one occasion. Just go, please, it's always a wonderful experience.

man it sucks so many people on here have absolutely convinced themselves that entire categories of consumer goods like perfume are bougie. you are depriving yourself of little treats by just assuming you cant ever afford anything! this isnt an avocado toast post either im not saying 'just save up and buy it lol', i would never say that, what im saying is perfume (that is: scents in liquid, paste, oil or solid form intended to be worn as a personal adornment) as a commodity starts at "free" and gradually increases in price from there. my favorite perfumes are priced everywhere between $0 and $300. one of the most lauded amber scents in the world (regrettably JUST discontinued), "Amber Paste" by Kuumba Made, is one of those little hippie oils you get at Whole Foods and it cost $10.

and im not telling you to wear perfume, obviously people have allergies and shit, or just dont care for it, im talking to the people who WANT to own fragrances. im saying they aren't all going to cost $150.

you can also get unlimited (unlimited over a long enough timeline, they limit you to a couple or three per visit) free samples at a lot of sephoras and nordstroms if you live somewhere that has those stores (this depends on the location and a lot of other organic factors, you'll have to check ahead of time or just try it if you're nearby, it's sort of random). if you're actually buying something at sephora (and they have a lot of stuff that isn't a million dollars as well, despite their branding) ask for every free sample at checkout that they have. they will often load you up, and not just with perfume. secondhand outlets like Value Village and Goodwill also do huge business in perfume because people are ALWAYS donating it.

sephora also does perfume refills. if you actually do buy a full size bottle, they can refill it for much less than buying a whole new bottle of the stuff. i don't know exactly how much it costs because i havent used this service myself. and idk how careful yiou have to be about reeceipts either, but look into it if you bought a full size and its running out

idk it just bums me out there are all these people who actually want perfume and seem to think it's out of their price range. the really basement-tier dupes of popular brand scents are so good these days it's often worth dropping the $10 at Walmart or Rite Aid too.

some of my favorite ever perfumes were some weird crap i got in a crystal wizard store, or a drug store, or a goodwill, or whatever. if you want perfume you can get it

[angelwishess]

୨୧ TWST HCS !~

Heartslabyul | Savannaclaw | Octavinelle | Scarabia | Pomfiore | Ignihyde | Diasomnia

— Rambling / Details utc~

Since Heartslabyul is based on Alice in Wonderland, I thought it’d fit for everyone to look super unique in some aspect!! Ace is the only one that wears a varisty jacket, Deuce has the most piercings, Trey has a bunch of different glasses, and Cater has the most accessories !! And Riddle….. hes Riddle idk /j

Riddle: He is a pretty boy and no one can convince me otherwise. I didn’t add it but i imagine hes rather pale, and gets embarrasingly red in the heat. Has the most beautiful purple-blue eyes and almost looks like a doll honestly. Slight, reddish freckles if u look hard enough lol (I also hc that he gets a white streak of hair after Book 6, but I forgot to add it 😭)

Ace: I didn’t add it, but I imagine he wears a varsity jacket instead of the school blazer!! The thought of him looking like a typical disney show bully was just too funny to me. Much messier / fluffier hair, and has such long, dark lashes that it makes every girl he’s ever known jealous. He knows it too, and hes an ass about it, will flutter his lashes whenever someone mentions it. Had stud piercings because yes !!! (Regarding the varsity jacket, I’ll draw how I think it looks some time :3)

Deuce: Slightly longer hair, but he tries his best to keep it neat. Has alot of ear piercings, but he tries to cover it up with his hair 😭. Super pretty bottom lashes , and a nice beauty mark underneath his eye. Has really pretty lips :3 He tries to wear both his nrc and dorm uniform as correctly as possible (struggles to tie a tie and has to redo it like 50 times) (<- His tie still ends up a lil wonky lol)

@skibidibabygirl DEUCE MENTIONED

Trey: I will be honest, I struggled alot with him 😭. Couldn’t think of anything major, but I thought it’d be nice to give him colorful glasses teehee. I would’ve done something better with that but I couldn’t find any good refs 😭, but i imagine he has a lot of cool looking glasses he just switches up cuz why not its silly and i like it HEHE. I added two little beauty marks on him too, as well as some gold ear piercings. One being a lil hoop like Cater’s :33. Idk if its noticable but I made his shoulders broader too!! That man is built no one can convince me otherwise baking weirdly has a lot of arm strength involved 😭

Edit: I imagine him to have a bunch of glasses like these!!!

Cater: Fashion KING. He LOOVES to accessorize. Rings, bracelets, necklaces, you name it !! I added some lil chain thingys on his tie too :3 Slightly longer blazer, and oversized pants. I gave him lip piercings just because it looked cool tbh HAHAHA, messier hair and two beauty marks under his eye to match Trey !! <3 He has painted nails, and I also gave him a hair clamp that makes his lil ponytail into the shape of a diamond if you look at him from behind. Customizes his uniforms as much as possible, the opposite of Deuce LMAOO

[wlwjenna]

casual | t.c

summary: after several months of a casual fling with tara, you come to the realization that she was using you for the sole purpose of forgetting about her unrequited crush. tara attempts to make amends and explain that it was all a misunderstanding.

pairing: fwb!tara carpenter x fem!reader

word count: 1.9k

warnings: minor cursing, mentions of sex, manipulation.

a/n: this is my first oneshot, i hope you all enjoy it.

A bead of sweat trickles down the side of your face, cascading down your chin until it lands on the bedsheets.

Only then do you realize that the night is approaching an end. You and Tara had stayed up all night, making love and savoring the feeling of being in each other’s presence. Not an ounce of regret filled you; only she did.

Tara stretches her limbs with a soft yawn and rolls over onto her stomach, her skin clinging to the silk sheets. She peers at the clock that reads 4:51 am.

Her lips form into a tired grin, and she throws an arm over your waist, pulling your body flush against hers. “Hm, that was really nice. Best way to spend an all-nighter.” She murmurs, her voice drowsy but tinged with satisfaction. Her touch is gentle as she brushes your hair back behind your shoulders, admiring the artwork of bite marks and hickeys along your neck.

Your gaze locks with hers for a moment before slowly drifting down to her lips. Tara has two rules for this arrangement—no feelings involved and certainly no kissing. Despite that, you can’t stop yourself from imagining. You wonder how soft her lips feel and what they taste like. You hope deep down that maybe one day she’ll let you break those rules.

Tara stares at you, trying to decipher what you’re thinking about. When she notices where your gaze has landed, she lets out a weary sigh and pulls away, breaking the proximity between you. “Have you forgotten-“

“No, no. I haven’t forgotten.” You whisper and nibble on your lower lip in thought, repeating the rules in your mind. “No kissing, no feelings, nothing.” You confirm with a hint of disappointment in your tone.

Tara runs a hand through her hair, trying to tame the messy and sweaty strands. “Look, I like you, but not in that way. I don’t do relationships, and I made that clear the first time you attempted to kiss me.” Tara mutters and rests her hand tenderly on your stomach, trying to offer a small amount of comfort.

Despite the warmth of her hand on your stomach, a sense of coldness seeps through your body.

“I know, Tar. Trust me when I say I know.” You breathe and watch her hand trace gentle circles along your skin, the feeling being both painful and comforting. The vulnerability in your eyes is evident, as is the pain in your tone. “But it just feels like I’m a tool for you. You like Amber, but she doesn’t reciprocate those feelings, so you keep coming back to me to make yourself feel better.”

Your words hang heavy in the air.

Tara falters momentarily at the mention of Amber and glances at you. She hesitates before speaking. “Well, of course, I’m using you.” She casually agrees, as if she’s unaware of how impactful her words are.

“As you said, Amber doesn’t like me, and I need a distraction from that. It feels nice to have someone who caters to my every need and does exactly what I say. Especially if they already like me.” She intertwines her fingers with yours, her grip firm. “Like you.”

Her words hit hard, like a punch to the gut.

You don’t know if you can do this any longer, letting Tara use you while she thinks about another girl. It’s tearing you apart inside, the act of pretending that you’re okay with this arrangement. That it isn’t eating away at you, slowly killing you from within. It’s nearly unbearable.

“I have to go.” You abruptly climb off of her bed to put some distance between you and her. You grab your clothes, slipping into your undergarments before your T-shirt and jeans.

You don’t know how you didn’t realize sooner that Tara only started a fling with you to distract herself from Amber. The most painful realization is that she had taken advantage of your feelings, knowing damn well that you wouldn’t reject such an offer, giving her the endless perks of sex and pleasure.

Tara simply watches without uttering a word, her expression unreadable. When she hears the sound of the apartment door shutting behind you, she collapses against her sheets and lets out a groan mixed with frustration, and self-loathing.

“Fuck, why am I doing this to her?” Her question lingers in the air, like a quiet confession that she can’t quite understand.

-

For the rest of the week, you maintain your distance. When she tries to approach you on campus, you excuse yourself and make a hasty retreat. Her messages and calls go unanswered, left unread, and unreturned.

Tara is well aware of your actions. The prolonged ignorance causes a deep sense of discomfort inside her, a knot in her stomach that feels increasingly tight. The feeling of hope begins to fade, and the idea of mending things feels like it’s slipping further and further out of reach.

After days of internal debate, Tara musters up the courage and pours her heart out to her older sister in desperate hopes of receiving some advice. Sam responds with a stern scolding and paints a sobering reality for her. It’s a wake-up call for Tara, a powerful slap in the face. The realization of her mistakes and the damage she’s caused to your friendship weighs heavily on her.

Despite that, she’s not going to give up. She wants to repair the damage and she will. Even if it seems impossible.

A tired sigh escapes your lips as you tap away at the keys, finishing up the conclusion of your essay. You’ve been sitting at your desk for the past three hours, completely immersed in your work for your English class. It’s a welcome distraction, helping your mind stay occupied and away from recent events with Tara.

You’re jolted out of your focus as your phone buzzes, signaling that you’ve received a new notification. Your heart skips a beat, a mixture of hope and uncertainty. Reluctantly, you pick up your phone and look through it.

Tara

Please meet me at the park near your house. I won’t bother u anymore after this.

I promise.

Pls show up.

A storm brews inside you. Part of you is tempted to lash out and tell her to fuck off and to never text you again. But a small voice in your head is pleading with you to go see her. To hear her out.

You push aside your anger and resentment, deciding the latter.

The walk to the park is short, just under five minutes. The cool wind gently caresses your face, blowing strands of hair out of your face. Despite the calming breeze, tension and unease churn within you.

You don’t know what awaits you. Maybe tonight is the night that Tara officially ends the arrangement, cutting you out of her life completely. Maybe she already found solace in Amber, perhaps they’ve already become more than friends.

As you enter the park, the sight of someone sitting on the bench greets you. No guesses are needed; you already know who it is. You continue to approach her, your heart beating your chest and your breaths growing shaky. Tara sits there, fiddling with the rose in her hands, and as you get closer, she lifts her head. A small smile graces her lips at the sight of you.

She awkwardly hands you the rose and watches you sit next to her, the silence between you hanging thick and heavy.

Tara swallows past the lump in her throat and turns to you, Sam’s words from last night echoing in her head. She takes a deep breath before speaking. “When you left me that night, I felt so much regret. Regret for using and manipulating you. It was a shitty thing to do, and you didn’t deserve that, especially when you’ve shown me nothing but kindness.” She whispers, her eyes growing watery with guilt and remorse.

“I don’t like Amber. In fact, I never did.” Tara’s words catch you off guard, and you look at her with shock, a sense of hope in your heart. A small chuckle escapes her due to your reaction and she continues. “I had a crush on you all along, but I was afraid of what would happen if I tried pursuing a relationship with you. I feared that if we did start dating, one day you wouldn’t love me anymore and you’d vanish from my life forever.”

A tear rolls down her cheek, and she’s quick to wipe it, feeling vulnerable and exposed. “I had this stupid idea to start a fling with you because I knew you would agree without hesitation.” She confesses, her voice trembling. “In my head, I convinced myself that it’d be alright, because if I ended the arrangement someday, then we would resume being best friends like nothing happened. And I knew it wouldn’t last forever, but I thought that it would be better to have a little piece of you than none at all.”

“I owe you a huge apology for everything that I have ever said or done to you. I don’t expect forgiveness or anything, and I certainly don’t expect you to say anything to me. I’d understand if you got off this bench and walked away. I just wanted you to know that I’m sorry. I regret it all.” She whispers sincerely, her eyes searching yours.

You’re quiet for a moment, trying to gather your thoughts. You can see the genuine remorse in her eyes, silently begging for forgiveness.

Finally, your lips curve into a small smile as you whisper. “You really went through all this trouble, all this bullshit, just because you wanted to be with me?” A mixture of affection and annoyance fills your tone. “God, you’re such an idiot, Tara.”

Then she does something that’s both adorable and endearing; she pouts. “I can’t tell if you’re insulting me in a negative or positive way.”

“It’s both.” You reply with a playful grin, scooting closer to her on the bench. “I’ve been in love with you for the past three years. I doubt my feelings would change like that. You’ve been a complete dumbass, wasting all this time starting this fling when we could’ve been dating for, like, the last five months.”

Tara's frown deepens as realization sets in, finally realizing how much time has gone by. She scratches the back of her neck. “You’re right about both things, me being an idiot, and we could’ve dated a while ago.” She sighs, feeling lost and confused. “Do you think it’s too late for us, though? Are you still open to being my girlfriend?” She looks into your eyes, hope and fear swirling in them.

A surge of excitement courses through you at the very thought of dating Tara. There’s no way you’ll let this opportunity slip through your fingers. With a determined look, you stand up and extend your hand, still clutching the rose in your other. “It’s never too late.” You reply with a reassuring smile. This is a relationship you both deserve.

Tara quickly rises and places her hand in yours. “So, what now?” She asks, her grin widening.

“We’re going on a date.” You suggest, squeezing her hand. “I’m sure that pizza place is still open.” You start to walk out of the park, guiding her with you. Before you can fully exit, Tara tugs on your hand, pulling you back towards her. You turn around with curiosity etched on your face.

You’re about to ask what’s wrong when her lips crash into yours, her arms encircling your waist as she kisses you passionately. She kisses you with everything she has. The feeling is overwhelming, making you feel like you’ve ascended to cloud nine.

While in Tara’s embrace, you’re enveloped by a sense of belonging, realizing that you’ve finally found your place here in her arms.

[thegeorgiatennantblog]

What is Georgia Moffett's obsession with Rivals anyway? It's literally the trashiest book I have ever come across. But then again, trash is going to love trash because that's where it belongs, and I wouldn't expect anything else from her uncultured ass.

First of all, please refrain from calling someone by a name they don't use anymore. I mean how can one expect people like you to respect other's chosen names and pronouns when you can't even respect a woman's decision to change her maiden name after her marriage. Anywho....

Secondly, there are as many diverse tastes in media as there are human beings to indulge in them. I don't heckle you for not liking Rivals or liking whatever it is you do like and neither does Georgia so I suppose you should have the common decency to at least return the favour and not jeer her for loving a book.

Thirdly, it's not only Georgia who likes Rivals (or any of Jilly Coopers books for that matter). Jilly is a sensation in Britain and she is publicly loved by so many people. Her books have been so important to so many people for so long and rightfully so and I believe you would understand why if you took the time to read it and read it with nuance and understanding and not the dimmed eyes of a pub football fan.

I believe that, and other more learned people have observed this as well, that the idea that books or other pieces of media that are written by or specifically cater to women are always degraded as B-grade fiction whereas trashy stuff like Batman and Mission Impossible, since they are made by and for cis-het men, are A grade, is inherently built on misogyny. Moreover, stuff like Rivals, bcs it knows nobody is going to take it seriously and anything it says will be dismissed as trash, then acquires a licence or a power to speak out on the things mainstream media does not have the guts to.... say violence against women, critique of capitalism and class structures and power politics, and so much more. It's called the Jester's Privilege I believe.

Lastly, and this is purely speculative, and you can correct me on this if I am wrong but, I do personally believe that the real thing that matters, the one thing that makes a piece of media very very special to you is good representation. Representation that rings true to you. That makes you feel seen. Perhaps Georgia as a young girl read this book with a heroine who is dyslexic and yet a charismatic force of nature, who can do everything that everyone else can do and here she was at the centre of the story, and I think that probably made G feel good.

[melmedardasworld]

Late reply. But I agree with all of this. It's not balanced out. Which, fine, no is forcing you if she isn't your fave character, but I also only ever see that when meljayvik is being discussed and appreciated Mel is just some type of support system for Javik/Viktor (which amplifies it when they solely like Vik and hate Jayce— couldn’t be me.) Its not fun or enjoyable to see it in the tag of your fave character or ship.

It’s also never in balance of Viktor to support Meljay and tagging it as Meljay when they’re barely involved or Mel is barely mentioned or catered to is annoying. That does rub me the wrong way, but doesn’t surprise me since this has been happening since the season aired, and I've been fandoms for a while. nos not new behavior.

Mel’s role in fandom (not necessarily the show) feeds to familiar stereotypes. She is there to listen and be this emotional therapist for others while her feelings are all sidelined. I do hope we get to see more of these sides of her as the 2nd and 3rd act progress.

Mel is such an awesome character and so multifaceted. Arcane has done a good job bringing that to life, so it��s sometimes just sad that she’s not supported. So yeah, her being taken is going to be a rollercoaster, and I really wonder how that will play out, especially mentally and emotionally.

A part of me is kinda annoyed that you can't go through the MelJay or Mel x Jayce tag without seeing something about Viktor. I like Viktor but I just want to see stuff with just those two.

[angstics]

I always thought black parade is about a horrible person who feels sorry for himself. He’s hurt people over his honor (being a soldier and all that) but I don’t see the fascism. He’s self centered and he doesn’t care if we feel sorry/happy for him but I genuinely don’t understand how that ties into fascism. I haven’t watched cabaret and maybe that’s why but to my understanding cabaret is directly affected by war but the patient isn’t. At least not when he’s in the hospital.

I feel like this is something Mcr is starting to build rather than something that has always been there? Can you explain a bit more? I feel really stupid and I love art so not understanding it hurts. I read your posts btw but yeah I don’t get it? Maybe I am stupid after all

this isnt related to intelligence at all, i dont think im reading any like Secret Messages behind black parade. everyone has their own reading of what bp means. a lot of the ideas i post are incomplete and only really make sense in my head because it caters to MY thoughts, MY experiences, MY enjoyment. i felt so jubilant about identifying the fascist imagery because i feel like it's an Underrated (not hidden) part of the black parade. but it mostly does so through APPROPRIATION and EXPRESSIONISM.

appropriation is what i mean by black parade co-opting the concept of cabaret: ignoring the world's troubles via entertainment leading to destruction inside the soul and outside in the world. cabaret is about fascism, black parade is about depression. the narrator is inside his mind, his entertaining space, self centered and self flagellating, to the detriment of his own life. by Alluding to a story about fascism, i like reading that theme into black parade as well. Expressionism is a recent development in my conception of black parade. i thought bp was APOLITICAL until i realized that the personal theme could symbolize a wider critique, the way german expressionism was a reflection of troubled, decaying society.

there are also some elements of fascistic theme within the text, but theyre milder than the overwhelming themes of self-hatred, memory etc. these elements include the overwhelming presence of war and retribution (mother war, mama, welcome, teenagers, sleep). the portraits by chris anthony read very dark to me, these military-straight, brooding, rigid characters. the destruction in the streets of the welcome music video. all elements that speak to an unnamed destructive force that must be squashed, or a need for a leader that can be a savior. the "black parade" as an army that welcomes you to valhallah. there's more to say im sure, i just havent thought about it outside the personal perspective much.

your ideas can co-exist with my ideas. there is no one true reading. this is just what i like thinking about!!

[beloveds-embrace]

why do you write for chubby readers :/ y’all want skinny people to be inclusive but you guys do the opposite. and when skinny people point it out it’s wrong. like i bet sm people will attack me on this but idc. because ik y’all are hypocrites and will write posts after posts about how this fandom is skinny-people centred and how most fics are only catered to them blah blah. we can’t ever reach an agreement if you hate on us for making fics with specific reader descriptions whilst doing the same

I can’t really decide how i even feel about this lmfaooo 😭 babe unless a fic specifically tells you the reader is chubby we both know the standard is for reader to be skinny. You are quite literally the most included group in any reader fic and you know it and you don’t even need to add any specific description because, once again, you are quite literally the standard. and you are now complaining because you see fics where reader is chubby and struggles with it due the standards YOU benefit from and suddenly the hypocrites are us 🫠

Also??? The fuck do you mean by why do you write for chubby readers?? Should I stop just because a skinny person told me i shouldn’t write for my own body type??

[artistic-rice]

au shit that caters to me and my gf ONLY