#what she says about people not being in her shoes applies to every single person in this fandom

[thebluediner]

a/n: I'm such a liar but what can I say I had time so yeah

PROFFESIONAL AS IT CAN BE

manager!reader x celebrity! billie

billie eilish a hot popstar with an equally hot manager so much so you can't escape dating rumors or being shipped together. you could be talking to billie at event about who she needs to go see regarding interviews and fans near by would be hollering and screaming at the interaction.

billie was not afraid to date in the industry but they never lasted more than a coupe of months. In an interview she admitted to how hard it is to keep one because often times her partners would confuse her busy schedule for her spending time with you.

behind the scenes pictures of you and billie did not help the growing fanbase shipping the two of you. it would be pictures taken by friends and family of you and billie doing the most random things that turned to something big online. a picture of you and billie laying on her hotel bed besides each other your bodies close and yes focused on the big screen in-front of you. pictures of you leaning on the bathroom door looking at billie apply her makeup. pictures of the two of you sleeping while leaning on each other on the tour bus and most of all the silly pictures billie post on her story of you on your birthday.

billie would mention you during her shows when she tells her fans about something funny that happened or when she comments about the amount of water bottles you put out for her during the concert. billie would joke about you selling the bras she received on stage or the fact that they were your problem to deal with after.

the sharing of clothes between the two of you was excessive to everybody but you two. billie would wear your stuff ad people would notice because you had very different taste in clothes and of course they notice when you did the same because the clothes were so much bigger they basically swallowed you whole.

you were mostly the person who took billie's picture that she posted on instagram that's why she got comments like, ''god bless y/n for taking these pictures'' '' how did she take these without fainting cause billie looks so good'' '' thank youuu y/n you deserve to have your cookie ate for these'' .

when billie would get hurt on stage the first person to appear would be you with a first aid kit and a pout at billie's state that gets captured by the fans and obviously posted online. sometimes when fans want to tell billie to take care of herself they say they hope you're taking care of her instead and billie would laugh it off and just nod.

billie who was a little shy at first and would try and do most things herself but you caught her crying in the storeroom saying she was overwhelmed and you chastised her to call you for all kinds of things that was your job anyways. and ,that's how billie had you on speed dial for every single thing. she needs an outfit, she needs food, she needs a snack, she needs someone to babysit shark, her food ran out and she's scared to go to the grocery because of anxiety, managing a bunch of offers through her personal instagram dms. you were there for it all.

once billie commented on how you're always single and most of the crew agreed in laughter leading you to admit that billie was the one cockblocking you. you explained that not literally but most of them assumed you were dating billie already and did not want to compete with her or it's because they just wanted to meet billie through you.

the theory made up by fans that wherever billie is you were also always there. this theory was proved by multiple pictures of billie that either featured you in the background photobombing her or it's your phone , clothes , shoes anything that was related to you always appeared.

the way you were so close with billie you would sometimes spend major holiday events with her family due to being on tour. thanksgiving spent with billie and her family, christmas was also spent with her alone with other things like your birthday.

the way billie would drag you to actually participate in after party's instead of just booking her into them and staying behind in the hotel. she would insist you also dress up and go with her which most likely ends with pictures and videos of you two on the dance floor by the next day.

they way billie would be constantly asked if she was dating you in interviews. she would say no but then side eye you behind the camera with a foolish smile erupting the rumors even more.

billie was physical touch person everybody knew that but somehow people always made it a bigger deal when she initiated it with you. videos of you hugging before and after a show , you on billie's back as she sins you around, the hand holding ,the forehead kisses...

it was always professional even when billie got too flirty which was a dangerous game because you didn't back down from those but engaged in them more. the way her eyes would start to linger in places where they should or the way her touch grew clingy.

the behind the scenes videos for vogue did nothing but dig the grave of rumors a big bigger. billie made a skincare video that featured most of your products because she openly admitted to that and from that fans gathered that you two shared hotels for your stuff to be in her bathroom. the other one with billie getting ready for the met you featured in it as you brought billie breakfast and sat down on her balcony eating yours not aware how you were also being recorded for vogue.

[antimonyandthyme]

Wouldn't it be crazy...if carcar in the situational prompt list no. 60... one/both of them being hit with truth spell/serum

They’ve all been through it. Oscar isn’t special, or any more special than the nineteen other people who share a track with him. On the cusp of breaking into Formula 1, every one of them had someone who sat them down, acted all nice, like a friend they hadn’t seen in years, then pried them open to get a glimpse of anything rotten. Oscar’s just thankful it was Mark. Someone who Oscar knew cared for him, for real, and this way he could look past the interrogation and assign it some form of kindness. In true form, Mark had gone about it in the most awkward way possible, as only someone who hated doing the questioning as much as he hated doing the answering could, and that at least hadn’t made Oscar’s skin crawl.

Hey, uh, kid. Is there anything you think I should know? Uh, romantic, or otherwise?

Even then, he’d been defensive. His past life wasn’t for sale, newly minted F1 driver or not. The girl he dated for longer than he should have, the guy he kissed in maybe too public of a place. Even in the face of Mark’s sincerity, he’d been torn between honesty and mortification.

He doesn’t know why the memory’s popping up right now. It’s Vegas, and so many things happen in Vegas that outside of the race, not a single other thing bears significance anymore. Oscar doesn’t question it when she gestures him over, or when she points to a deck of cards, laid out on a low table like a trap. Something in the air here shakes out his sensibilities, loosens his tongue.

“Will you tell me who will win?” He pauses, backtracks. She might not even know who he is. There are no cameras around. “I could place a bet if you help me.”

“You aren’t a gambling man.” Her voice is strong, rich like an anchorwoman, completely unlike how he’d expected her to sound. “And anyway, you’ll live it out, tomorrow.”

Oh. So she does know.

The furrow between his eyebrows he cancels out with a bland smile. He gets the impression he should leave.

“I could tell you other things.”

“What other things?” It’s good to keep his mind distracted on the eve of a race. He’s always said that. Has he always said that? Well. He’s saying it now.

She draws a card. “The Fool.”

“Not a good start,” Oscar says. “I think I’m gonna—”

“Inexperience and improvisation,” she says. Her teeth are wondrously bright, straight like gravestones lined up in a row. “Not bad, all things considering.”

All things considering, being how this season is going? What does she know.

“I’ve read this somewhere before,” Oscar says. If it’s a fight she wants.

“The Suit of Swords,” she continues, as if she hasn’t heard him. “A logical mind and a spoken word.”

“You have a preplanned deck, for anyone who walks pass.”

“The Tower. Misery, distress. Unseen catastrophe.”

Oscar grits his teeth. “And then you use the same cards, in the same order, for every person. You’re purposely vague.”

“The Three of Wands. Stepping outside of comfort. Persevering.”

“Everything you say can apply to anyone,” Oscar says. This is as combative as he gets. “It’s all a trick.”

“Ah,” she says, and for a second, Oscar thinks he’s broken through, that she’ll snap at him, shoo him away. “But the Seven of Swords, reversed. A turning point. Starting anew.”

“I’m leaving,” Oscar says. Getting distracted on the eve of a race is folly. He’s always said that. Said that to Carlos, only a month or so ago.

“Only one remedy, for someone as recalcitrant as yourself.”

“I’m leaving,” Oscar says again, tongue like cotton. His feet stay right where they are.

She presses the last card into his hands. That video that had gotten viral years ago, the one where you could hand literally any item off to someone who was speaking on the phone. A shoe, a burger, a baby. This feels weightier than a baby. Oscar’s fingers open and close around the card, a wind-up doll dancing along to someone else's tune.

“Norris is winning tomorrow,” she says.

“Oh, fuck off.”

--

They both went into it with the exact same intentions: to come out of it perfectly intact. It was such a foolish notion from the beginning that they were unwilling to allow any heartbreak over it. So stubbornly, wholeheartedly, they worked their damnedest to come out of it perfectly intact.

If he can look past the way his heart wobbles in his chest whenever Carlos so much as looks his way, Oscar will say it’s been a success. He goes to bed, wakes up, races, while forgetting the intimate press of Carlos’s lips against his. They have a renegotiated new normal, the distance between them adjusted to a boring meter. Just close enough so as not to appear frosty, but far away enough that their shoulders can’t possibly accidentally bump.

“Oscar,” George greets cordially. “Feeling good about today?”

“Like hell I am,” Oscar says, with all the earnestness of a puppy still learning how to use its paws.

Multiple calculations flicker across George’s face. Like how much he actually wants to get into it, and how best to weave his way out of it.

“Chin up,” George says, then turns to Alex.

Oscar rolls his eyes. Catches himself doing it, and makes a concerted effort to pull his eyeballs back down into place. It isn’t like him to be so careless with expression. People act like honesty’s a virtue, then jump back like it could scald the moment it pops up in conversation. He sidles away, and finds himself waving at the crowd, a painless armlength from Carlos.

He suddenly, fervently, hates night races. He’s exhausted. It must be why. When Carlos opens his mouth, says something entirely cordial and normal, like How are you, Oscar’s tongue wriggles itself and lets loose.

“I miss you,” he says. The words are out before Oscar can clap a hand over his mouth. “I feel like shit and I miss you.”

“Right,” Carlos says. Still waving at the crowd, but with his shoulders pushed all the way up to his ears. “And I’m Cleopatra.”

“You’re more beautiful than—aw fuck.” He actually bites his tongue. To stop himself from talking. He needs to stop talking.

“Oscar,” Carlos says. He looks a second away from bolting, except there’s not much place to go, being on a moving bus. “What’s wrong with you?”

“Recalcitrance,” Oscar recites. “And an inability to be honest. Fuck. Fuckkkkk.”

“I’m serious, Oscar. If this is some mind game, you can drop it, yeah? We’re both adults. We can be adults about this.”

“I can’t,” Oscar says pleadingly. “I can’t stop thinking about you and I can’t stop wishing it could be different even though I know I was the one who—”

“Enough,” Carlos says, more hurt than Oscar’s ever heard him. This is what honesty does? Oscar should have burned those cards in front of that woman. “You can’t do this now, it’s not fair. After all you said before, you don’t remember that?”

“I lied, I’ve been lying,” Oscar says. “But I can’t now, apparently, you have to believe me.”

“I don’t have to believe anything,” Carlos says. “I don’t need you fucking up my race.”

“Lando’s going to win,” Oscar says miserably.

“You’re an asshole,” Carlos says, then goes to shoulder his way into some other group, and return to waving at the fans, leaving Oscar now a very painful one, two, three, four, five meters away.

--

Lando—wins? Then gets his win stripped away because of some penalty, moving Max up into first, Oscar into second, and Carlos into third.

She’s right, but only on a technicality. Oscar doesn’t want to give her that. And anyway, second place is pretty damn euphoric. He also gets to spray Carlos with champagne. Soak Carlos with it. Pretend the crinkles on Carlos’s face are for him.

He’s not thinking about his lack of filter when there’s a mic shoved up into his face.

“Obviously, I feel for Lando. It’s never a nice experience when you think you have something, but you don’t.”

Behind him, Carlos is waiting to give his interview. In front of him, the reporter’s face is suitably sympathetic.

“I mean, obviously, sometimes. It’s not even your fault. But sometimes—it is?”

“Right,” she says. “About the penalty, right?”

“Uh huh, the penalty. Sometimes it’s totally your fault. When you push people away.”

“You mean off the track?”

“Yeah, off the track,” Oscar nods fervently. He needs to buy this lady a bottle of wine, bless her. “But Lando will recover, the team will come back stronger.”

“Are you happy with your podium today?”

“Of course,” Oscar says. “I’m happy Carlos was up there with me. He deserves it. I’m happy he’s getting these podiums with Ferrari, so they can see—”

What they’ve given away, what they’ve pushed away.

Carlos is suddenly closer, behind him. Hand on Oscar’s lower back, subtle enough that no one else can see. Chiding, but gentle.

“—see him celebrate with this team.” Safer, but no less true. “I’m. Uh, very happy.”

“Right,” she says. “Just one more thing.”

“Ay,” Carlos says, in that lovely, good-natured way of his. “Is my turn now, no?”

“Of course,” she laughs, utterly charmed. “Oscar, thank you for your time.”

Carlos’s hand on his hip feels almost protective, the way he nudges Oscar away from the pen. Go, go. Button it up. You’re not for sale. Go.

--

Carlos examines the card under the neon glow of the strip. The waxy paper’s almost see through when he holds it up. You stare too long and in the end, you find you’re just looking directly at the lights, hurting your eyes. Unsurprisingly, when Oscar took him to where the woman had her little table set up, she wasn’t there.

“I think you got sold some snake oil.”

“I didn’t buy anything,” Oscar says.

“But you’re being made to pay,” Carlos says, grinning. “I’ve never heard you like that before. I’m happy for Carlos, just like that! To the media too. Impressive.”

“Go on,” Oscar says. “Kick a guy when he’s down.”

“Sorry,” Carlos says, sounding like he means it. Oscar’s heart does that pathetic quiver before it rightens itself. Carlos is always so quick to retract his claws, the moment he thinks he’s drawn blood. “It’s just, you know, kinda nice, having you like this. You’re never like this.”

“You could.” Oscar swallows. Prays that he has it in him to be brave. “Ask me anything now. I wouldn’t be able to lie.”

Carlos looks at him, before looking down at his feet. “That’s cheating, no?”

“For you?”

“No,” Carlos says. “For you. You’re cheating, like this.”

Ah. If Carlos had been anyone else, maybe he could have just asked and spared them both the trouble. Something like, Hey, hey. Be honest. Do you have feelings for me? Instead, Carlos hands the card back. Unwilling to go for the jugular. Classic Carlos.

Oscar wants so much to take his hand.

He clears his throat. “Do you remember. Uh. Before you started in F1. Did you ever have to. Like. Go through all of your past with anyone? Tell them who you dated and stuff?”

“Ah,” Carlos says. “Eh. Well. My Dad mostly already knew everything.”

“I think Mark wanted the ground to swallow him up, asking me.”

Carlos giggles. “I bet you were very embarrassing.”

“I, uh. Wasn’t very honest with him.”

“Good,” Carlos says.

“Good?” Oscar says, like some lost puppy.

“Yes, good,” Carlos says seriously. “It’s not for anyone else.”

Oscar waits for Carlos to ask, even while knowing Carlos never would. Not like that. Ball’s in Oscar’s court, as they’d say. For when he finally works through his recalcitrance and inability to be honest. I don’t want to reveal you to the world. Risk you in the slightest, Oscar wants to tell Carlos. That’s why I said all that I said. That’s why.

The card’s not strong enough for that. Not when Carlos, who’s equally as stubborn, refuses to invoke its magic. He’s protective like that, Carlos. Oscar offers him a wobbly smile, an olive branch. All that he can give right now. Generous that he is, Carlos allows the distance between them to shrink to something almost friendly, almost enough to bump shoulders.

--

Just for the fun of it, Oscar goes back, a couple of hours before he’s due at the airport.

She’s there now, of course.

“I don’t need this anymore,” he says, placing the card back onto her table.

She tuts at him like she’s disappointed, but shuffles the card back into her deck anyway.

“Also, Lando didn’t win.”

“Boy,” she says. “Do you think I actually watch Formula 1? Run along now. Do this your own way.”

“I will,” he says. “Thanks, I guess?”

She laughs. Grins at him in a way that’s both sinister and encouraging. Were her teeth always gleaming gold? “Your flight’s going to be late,” she says.

“Oh, fuck off.”

[angelscorpses]

cherry valance rant bc GOD cherry hate infuriates the shit out of me i need to let this out

made smth like this before but it was so incoherent lmao, im aiming for this one to be a little better worded/constructed. literally just gonna be a whole rant defending cherry/refuting common counterarguments i see

im being so genuine, can yall tell me a GOOD REASON why you hate cherry. every single reason i hear is so stupid, all of her actions that make her "hated" are incredibly understandable if you had just taken a moment and tried to imagine what it was like given her situation.

a good example would be "she didn't visit johnny in the hospital" :: johnny killed bob: cherrys boyfriend. johnny is her boyfriend's killer. name one person who would wanna go see their partner's killer. and a counterargument to this i see a lot is "johnny defended her against dally" :: which, yeah, maybe that made cherry somewhat like him a little more, but she had never even met him until the drive in. and, i simply believe someone killing your partner outweighs the one good thing that they did for you.

"being rude to ponyboy" :: socs couldnt really be seen with greasers because it would ruin their reputation, and rep is very important to both socs and greasers. i do agree it might've been a bit selfish, but you have to take into consideration the time period and their situation. this also can apply to the scene in the movie where cherry didnt wave back to ponyboy at school. but, cherry explicitly stated that she probably wasn't going to say hi or wave back, and told him not to take it personal because she would if she could: "you're a nice boy and everything, but we just couldnt let our parents see us with you" bringing back my point about reputation being important. she obviously WANTED to talk to him more, but couldnt due to social expectations

cherry disregarding ponyboy's issues by saying "things are rough all over." if you read the parts whenever randy spoke, you'd know this argument is pretty weak. and even then, she wasn't even disregarding them, she just wanted to give pony a sense that he's not alone.

a lot of this just boils down to trying to put yourself in her shoes; you have to understand where she's coming from. i've made this point a couple of times within the paragraphs. she's also only 16.

also, i've seen a lot of people who hate cherry also love dally? .. how are you gonna hate a character who's actions are pretty understandable if you just put yourself in their shoes, but like the character who's does FAR worse things, mostly just for fun (jumping little kids, cheating, drinking, etc.)?? talk about hypocrisy... i feel like this lowkey has some misogynistic undertones too but whatever.

anyway, you dont have to like her. like her, dislike her—whatever, just maybe come up with a good argument

[awakefor48hours]

Someone Who Listens

[AO3]

Rating: General Audiences Archive Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply Category: F/F Fandom: Black Clover Relationship: Rebecca Scarlet/Mimosa Vermillion Characters: Rebecca Scarlet, Mimosa Vermillion, Luca Scarlet, Marco Scarlet, Pem Scarlet, + rebecca's other nameless siblings, other black clover characters that show up occasionally Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Modern: No Powers, Coffee Shops, Fluff, Attempt at Humor, no beta (or else this fic was never coming out)

Summary: Rebecca works the closing shift at a coffee shop and goes to school all day. Between that and her busy schedule, she never thinks she has time for friends, until Mimosa comes barreling into her life

Mimobecca for femslash month by @bceventshub

I’ve always wanted to write a Mimobecca fic for a while and I remembered it was BC femslash month and I have free will. You don’t need to know much else other than what’s in the tags but as a personal note, since only three of Rebecca’s siblings have canon names (Luca, Marco, and Pem), I came up with my own names for them and (from oldest to youngest) all of Rebecca’s siblings are > Luca, Marco, Micha, Rachel, and Pem. That’s all you need to know.

“You’re 16, you can’t be tired.” That was a phrase that Rebecca had heard practically every day. It was one of the reasons why she was exhausted. Whenever she let out the complaint “I’m tired,” she’d like to go one day without someone telling her about single parents with kids. She wouldn’t deny that it does sound tiring but she was allowed to be tired too. Being 16 years old, trying to maintain a college scholarship, working for minimum wage until 4 in the morning everyday, and being responsible for her five younger siblings that her parents left behind when they died was mentally and emotionally taxing on her and the only word that was appropriate for it was “tired.” She wished that her only problem was being a single mom who worked two jobs. That would be easier and that way people would take her seriously when she let out a “I’m tired.”

She learned that she couldn’t complain about it, though. It only made things worse and didn’t change anything.

That led to her now. Sitting behind the counter, wearing shoes that were falling apart at the soles, and hoping that her siblings were sleeping in the break room. Out of all the things that went wrong in Rebecca’s life, the fact that her boss let them sit while working was something that made her happy.

It was Wednesday in the middle of the night. Surprisingly, no one was here. Not many people wanted coffee or tea at 10 PM on a Wednesday, especially when there was a bar two blocks down and another high quality coffee shop a block in the other direction. For this reason, Rebecca did most of her homework during this shift time. The few times someone would walk in, it was the odd college student or high school student trying to pull an all-nighter for an upcoming test and was sympathetic to the fact that she was doing her homework on the job and didn’t say anything.

Tonight she had to finish a rough draft of a book she skimmed, look over her biology notes, and plan a meeting time for her group project. It was a lot and people already underestimated her abilities since she was still just 16 years old but with everything else going on in her life, trying to prove herself was at the bottom of her list of priorities.

Two hours had passed and so far, only one person had come in. It was someone who was half-asleep and just needed a small latte to get through the night. They probably didn’t even notice that she had a textbook and notebook on her lap when they ordered. They left and now her watch beeped. It was midnight, meaning it was lunch time.

She quietly walked into the breakroom and looked at the table and saw her siblings all sleeping soundly there. She smiled seeing them together and grabbed her lunch bag from her locker.

She went back outside and sat at one of the tables in silence. As she ate, she remembered that she forgot to hang up the out for lunch sign on the door but it was one of those things she had a tendency to overlook when on her shift. Chances of someone coming in for the next 30 minutes were so low she didn’t even bother doing it now that remembered it.

These 30 minutes was the time she never took for granted. There weren’t many times of the day when she could just live in the moment like this. A moment where she didn’t have to do anything. It’s for this reason why she didn’t even do her homework during this time. This was her time and no one could take it away from her.

Before she knew it, the time had passed and it was back to work. Just as she thought, no one came in and it was time to start working again.

She sat back behind the counter. Just four more hours of this and she’ll be done. She had already finished her draft and now she had to finish her notes. At this point, she’d worry about her group project later. It was better to focus on this than anything else.

A couple of hours had passed when she was too exhausted to keep going. That meant all her homework was done and there wasn’t much time left on her shit. She looked down at her watch, it was 2:14, not much time left.

Only one more person came in that night. Judging by the way they were walking and talking, they had come from the bar two blocks down. They managed to slur out a “one black coffee to go, p’ease?”

Black coffee wasn’t too hard to make and she made it as quickly as she could. She didn’t think this person was dangerous but seeing as how they were intoxicated, anything could happen. When she finished it, she quickly passed it to the customer who took it with a smile before leaving.

She took a breath and waited for her watch to beep again.

Rebecca heard her watch start to beep. It was 3:30, about time to start cleaning up. She first snuck another glance at her siblings. Still sleeping. Good. Since only a few people had gotten drinks, all to-go, it was easy to clean up at this time and if she finished early, no one would mind if she closed shop 10 minutes before closing.

She got to work. The shop was small so it didn’t take long to wipe down the tables and put the chairs on them. She walked to the janitor’s office and filled up the mop bucket and started moping everywhere. Due to the fact that she moped practically everyday, she was quick and good at doing it. Her boss never complained about it so she never thought to double check her work.

She checked the time again. It was 3:45. Not bad timing. She dumped out the mop water in the drain and locked the janitor’s office. She was about to head off to the breakroom to get her siblings until she heard the dreaded sound of the bell ring.

Sure it was still technically their open hours but who the hell wants coffee or tea at 3:50 in the morning?

Rebecca couldn’t help but grimace and refused to turn around, as if that would stop this person from making a purchase.

“Oh thank goodness, you’re still opening.” It was a girl’s voice and very breathy, almost like she just ran nonstop for an hour. Even though she was right, Rebecca couldn’t help but be angry. This had only happened to her once before and she got out of it by saying that it takes half an hour to get everything prepared. People who show up at the last minute love getting what they want as soon as possible for some reason but if she couldn’t do it, they would leave on their own. It was a lie but since it sounded believable and no one could disprove it so she got away with it.

Rebecca finally turned around and saw the young girl face-to-face now. It was a petite young girl, with ginger hair, and green eyes. She was wearing a white polo with a matching plaid bow and skirt. She was wearing an orange cardigan on top of her white polo with the Clover Academy insignia embroidered on her left breast. She must’ve been one of those rich girls and she might not take “no” as an answer.

Rebecca had gotten quite good at hiding anger and disappointment in her face so she kept up a stoic face and didn’t let it show that her patience was dwindling by the second, even though she really wanted to.

When the girl had finally caught her breath, she said “I’m sorry to do this to you but umm, can I get a water bottle?”

Suddenly all of the anger dissipated from her. A water bottle was easy. It would take less than a minute to ring up and there wouldn’t be anything to clean afterwards.

Rebecca walked over to the refrigerator and grabbed the first water bottle she saw and started putting in her total. As she was doing that, the young girl had drunk nearly half the bottle, like she hadn’t had any water to drink in days.

“Your total is 100 yul.”

The girl had finally stopped drinking and pulled out her wallet. It was a cute and fancy leather wallet that probably cost more than Rebecca’s monthly salary. The girl pulled out 1,000 yul instead and said “this is the lowest bill I have on me. You can keep the change.”

On a different day, Rebecca would let this go but not today. This girl was interesting. How many other times would she meet a rich girl that comes busting in a coffee shop at this hour, asks only for water, and overpays for it? Besides, she technically still had 8 minutes left on her shift, no harm in asking a question. “What happened to you?”

The girl had just swallowed another gulp of water and took a breath. “It’s really dumb.” She exhaled harshly. “I have a friend who does sports, I don’t remember which one it is, and he had a game last until midnight and I didn’t realize how long it was going to take. When it was over, I realized that I still needed to finish one of my school projects so I worked on that nonstop until an hour ago. When I’m done with school, I usually just ride home on the bus but none of the buses have shifts this late so I decided to run home instead! So I’ve been running nonstop for about an hour just trying to get home before it’s too late.”

Seems like Rebecca’s guess wasn’t too far off. This girl was so scatter-brained, it’s a miracle that made it this far.

It was supposed to be an inside thought but Rebecca accidentally asked it out loud, “who runs nonstop for an hour?”

The girl had just finished her water bottle and put the bottle away in her school bag. “That friend I mentioned who does sports can. I just learned that I can’t.” She giggled at the thought. “Well, I guess I should get going. Thank you so much. You’re a lifesaver.”

If she was running nonstop for an hour, “lifesaver” might not be an exaggeration.

The girl left and Rebecca was about to get back to packing up but she noticed something else as she left. “Where are your shoes?”

Store policy dictates no shoes, no shirt, no service but Rebecca didn’t care about that right now. From the little she knew about her, she probably lost them as she was running around and now she was worried.

The girl looked at her pink socks almost in shock then looked back up. “Oh right, that. When I saw that you put the chairs on the tables, I realized that you must’ve moped already and my shoes were covered in mud from running, so I took them off because I didn’t want to get any on your floor and make you mop again.”

Rebecca couldn’t fight back the blush on her face. That one act of kindness was one of the most thoughtful and considerate things that a stranger had done for her in a long time.

The strange girl left but not before Rebecca wished her safe travels home.

Rebecca went back to close everything. She recorded the money in her till and walked to the breakroom. All of her siblings were still sleeping, good. She looked at the time, it was now 4:01, she took a small sigh of relief. She didn’t have to serve anyone else for the rest of the day.

Now her issue was getting all five of her sleeping siblings back to their apartment. Rebecca would carry the three youngest kids, who would always stay asleep at this hour, while she’d wake up Luca and Marco to carry their bags. This part was a pain in the neck but it was their lives and there was no use in fighting it.

She first shook Luca and Marco awake, she hated doing this but that’s how it was for them. They were half awake when she explained it was time to go home. They both groaned but listened. She wished she didn’t have to do this to them but she didn’t have the ability to carry all of them and all their bags at the same time. It was also better if they were half asleep while doing this. It gave them an incentive to go home as quickly as possible and go back to sleep soon.

While Luca and Marco were grabbing everyone’s bags, Rebecca was grabbing her other siblings, who she hoped would stay asleep. She put Pem on her back, Rachel under her left arm, and Micha under her right arm. It was uncomfortable to say the least but it was the only way to carry them. By the time she was done, Luca and Marco had also finished. They stood near the exit, eyes half shut, holding their school bags, diaper bags, and Rebecca’s second work bag. They had everything, it was time to go.

The Scarlet family left out the back of the shop and Rebecca locked the door behind her, a skill that wasn’t easy when with two sleeping children in tow, and then they made their home.

Another reason why Rebecca liked working at this coffee shop is that it was close to where she lived. Only a ten minute walk and since it was 4:10 in the morning, the streets were empty, making it easy to walk home but the tradeoff was fear. Fear of a stranger seeing them and wanting to “help” them. Luckily, today was fine and they made it back to their complex easily.

The elevator might’ve been out of order but they were lucky that they only lived on the second floor. They walked up the steps and made a slow and gradual beeline to their apartment. Rebecca opened the door and they all lazily made their way in.

Luca and Marco dropped their bags at the front and took off their shoes before walking to bed. It was bad manners but she told them that they were allowed to do this, those two getting to sleep mattered more than a little clutter at the front door.

While those two went to bed, Rebecca took off her siblings shoes and tried her best to keep them organized but she was tired too. When she was done with her siblings’ shoes, she lazily toed off her own shoes and put them to bed. Her siblings all shared a room while Rebecca got her own. It wasn’t a permanent solution but it was the one that worked for them.

As she went to her room, she crawled under her covers, not even bothering to change into her pajamas, to get a few hours of sleep. She had to be up at 7:30, meaning if she fell asleep now, she’d get three hours of sleep. This was fine.

She pulled herself under the covers, waiting for exhaustion to take over her body, tomorrow was another day.

WOOHOO, MY FIRST MIMOBECCA FIC IS HERE! I love Mimobecca so much and here we are, first chapter in. This was supposed to be a 1k one shot fic but my google doc that has over 4k words says differently. So I decided to make it into a chaptered fic or else I was just gonna burn out writing this. I hope to be done soon, hopefully before the month ends, and that you all enjoy. Happy femslash, everyone!

[holocene-sims]

next // previous

july 7, 2021 2:00 p.m. grant's house

[shannon] so, i had to respond to an email i keep forgetting about that came in like three days ago. oh, oh, oh, and i got some clothes in the mail i ordered for the holiday colm and i are going on–you know, our honeymoon–and i opened them so i could make sure the fabric doesn’t make me want to rip my skin off, you know?

[grant] totally respectable. i never buy new clothes either because i like my current ones–why do i need to get used to a whole new set of clothes? my favorite shoes are a decade old pair of converse. i don’t want to retrain myself to be comfy.

[shannon] see! thank you.

[shannon] but back to the email, it kind of has to do with you! maybe! potentially.

[grant] with little old me?

[grant] also, sorry, not to interrupt but: both of you, help yourself to anything you want to drink! i forgot to offer, which makes me a terrible host.

[grant] additionally, there are cookies because i keep stress baking, like, every couple days, so feel free to enjoy some cookies!

[grant] and yes, i'll clear the paperwork off the table. i had to get it out again for something.

[shannon] you're fine! thank you! but anyway, about the email! maybe i can have a single coherent sentence come out of my mouth.

[grant] yeah, no, i am extremely curious what an email potentially having to do with little old random me would be about. also take your time, we do not have to be coherent here!

[shannon] an old professor of mine emailed me secondhand about a project he thought i could help with. it’s not his project but it’s another professor’s project in dublin and it’s not really a formal academic thing but more like a side project for an online newspaper thingy.

[shannon] anyway, um, that doesn't matter, but i emailed this other professor–the lady running the project–who is an anthropologist just collecting stories and interviews from irish speakers in the diaspora, either as a native or a learned language, and she’s looking for people interested in participating, which is a really limited number since...well, you know why…

[shannon] i can’t participate because i would be incredibly biased and also, most obviously, i was born in ireland, but neither of those complications apply to you! also, you will be in the country a week from now and that gives for better interviews to do them in person, if you’re asking me.

[grant] i'm not disqualified because i have citizenship there?

[shannon] no. that’s fine. you just can’t have grown up there.

[shannon] or have gone to any kind of long-term language school or anything there because that would imply being not-in-the-diaspora.

[shannon] also, there’s no pressure. i didn’t say oh yes, talk to my one very specific cousin. i said i have many connections, family or otherwise, who would fit into the scope of your project who may be interested in chatting with you, and i can get you all in contact.

[shannon] but if you did it, i think it’d be fun, and i think you’d have the some of the best answers. at least out of our eligible family members. you’re really one of the kids closest to our grandparents and you have the most exposure and familiarity with the language out of the american-born kids. i mean, you all know how to speak it fluently and natively and all, but some are better than others. besides, you’re so sentimental and that’s helpful.

[grant] well, sure! i don’t mind talking to her. i also don’t think anyone would mind making a really brief detour for a day or so to do it.

[shannon] great! i will try my best to remember to email her in the morning.

[ramenwritesss]

nobody asked me to answer but I’m answering anyways 🤪

My Family, Covid, and Music

It’s horrible 💀

The Outsiders, IT, Titanic

If me and my parents get into a minor disagreement, my dad will point to the sky and say “Whose roof?” It may not be funny to yall without context, but it’s fricking hilarious in my family.

tbh, I didn’t know that tumblr was like this, I just read about it on an outsiders modern au fic and wanted to see what it was about

the best part is getting to make people happy and laughing with people all around the world in my comment section abt random stuff. The worst part isn’t the trolls, I can handle a good hate comment and can make an even better comeback, but I think its people stealing your content (I’m a TikTok and YouTube editor with a semi-large following, so people stealing my comets isn’t rare, it’s just hard to find the video bc they normally block you afterward)

Fire alarms and ovens. Idk why but I have always been afraid of both

No, not that I remember at least

We were at the beach and my husky ran out into the woods because he saw a dear. Both my parents and my sisters were looking for him, but my sisters didn’t have shoes on, so they came back with thorns and sticks in their feet (we found the dog btw)

Kinda? I have an emotional breakdown every other month and cry a few times in between but a movie or song can’t get tears falling. Unless a dog dies, if I dog dies, babes, I’m on the ground sobbing.

In a movie or book, just any romantic interaction that lasts a certain amount of time. Ten-fifteen minuets for a movie and maybe ten-fifteen pages in a book, depending how long each one is.

if people try to put you down, whether it’s a hate comment for an actual comment, bite back. Don’t be afraid. Biting back makes them back down. And if you are too scared to bite back, make fun of yourself with them! It shows confidence and also shows that you can take insults without being affected. It shows a lot about you.

Listening to music and writing my book! (It’s based off one of my dreams)

I have always wanted to move to Tokyo. I’m still a teenager, but when I get to collage, I want to apply for the animation school in Tokyo. I’m just scared that would be a very bold move.

It’s not really a feeling, but I smell cinnamon and bread baking, ik it’s weird but still.

how annoying I am.

music, books, writing

ghosts maybe, aliens no

I like laying in my bed while listening to music with sunlight pouring in. I like it better when it storms tho, it gives my room a really pretty and cold vibe, perfect for the neighborhood music!

I get to sleep lol

Idk, I don’t think I’m like the biggest spiritual person out there. I wouldn’t bring up anything spiritual in a conversation bc I don’t particularly find it interesting. But if someone else starts a conversation I would talk about it

my mom. She’s funny, very dirty minded, and has a strait-to-the-point-no-nonsense type attitude

Andrew Tate. Self explanatory.

Building a community on YouTube and TikTok where everyone feels comfortable enough to share their thoughts and feelings

winter! Mostly because it’s Christmas time in the winter and I LOVE the Christmas vibe

Blue, Green, Black and White. I’ve always liked blue and green, but I took a liking to black and white because me and my sister used to share a room and everything she owned was either pink, black, or white

My older brother calls me Honey, my oldest sister calls me Sugarboo, my second oldest sister calls me chicken (weird without context 💀), and my other two older sisters just call me by my name

Snowglobes! I started when me and my family moved across the country. We went to 11 states and so I have 11 snowglobes rn. My oldest sister bring me back one every single time she goes to visit her boyfriend.

listen to music or watch funny YouTubers like Joe Bart and the sturniolo triplets

When people comment on my videos. I love it when people enjoy my content!

a bit of both

12 💀

Drawing, Writing, editing, painting

I HATE STEREOTYPING PEOPEL! GOD ITS SO ANNOYING WHEN PEOPLE DO THAT IT MAKES ME WANT TO SCREAM

Very easily, I probably need to stop doing that. But I can always tell when something’s off about a person

People think I’m an open book but literally nobody knows anything about me, not even my family

I downloaded discord without asking my parents once, deleted it after a while though (The life of a kid with strict ass parents 😍)

End of beginning or Sex, Drugs, Etc

Joe Bartalozzi and Nick Sturniolo. They just remind me of myself

I chew the skin in front of my nails. I dig my nails into my arm when I feel like I’m being annoying.

that’s it 😍

questions I think would be fun to be asked

what are 3 things you’d say shaped you into who you are?

show us a picture of your handwriting?

3 films you could watch for the rest of your life and not get bored of?

what’s an inside joke you have with your family or friends?

what made you start your blog?

what’s the best and worst part of being online/a creator?

what scares you the most and why?

any reacquiring dreams?

tell a story about your childhood

would you say you’re an emotional person?

what do you consider to be romance?

what’s some good advice you want to share?

what are you doing right now?

what’s something you’ve always wanted to do but maybe been to scared to do?

what do you think of when you hear the word “home”?

if you could change one thing about yourself, what would it be?

name 3 things that make you happy

do you believe in ghosts and/or aliens?

favourite thing about the day?

favourite things about the night?

are you a spiritual person?

say 3 things about someone you love

say 3 things about someone you hate

what’s one thing you’re proud of yourself for?

fave season and why?

fave colour and why?

any nicknames?

do you collect anything?

what do you do when you’re sad?

what’s one thing that never fails to make you happy/happier?

are you messy or organised?

how many tabs do you have open right now?

any hobbies?

any pet peeves?

do you trust easily?

are you an open book or do you have walls up?

share a secret

fave song at the moment?

youtuber you’ve been obsessed with and why?

any bad habits?

(this post was stolen from @teenage-mutant-ninja-freak, since it couldn't be reblogged anymore)

[beatsboy]

10.19.24 @ 2:37

i’ve been journaling physically a lot lately, but my brain has been firing and there are too many digital moments i want to contribute to this entry, so i’m back here in my notes app.

today, or rather yesterday at this point, i released my first single for boypop, king. i keep wanting to say boypop’s single and remembering that boypop is me. i am boypop.

it came out officially at 9pm last night in la (midnight est) as m and i were eating noodles down the block from my apartment, shortly before we rushed home to get ready for the fka twigs show. the fact that i didn’t even know there was a dress code, just tried to dress as myself as possible, and was complimented for my look, fitting right in. granted, there were plenty of better outfits of me, but i was in the hotter 50%, shall we say (in the normie to hottie ratio of any show bc these bitches reaches are getting too wide). and i did not fit in with the slur of rick owens shoes meeting my eyeline on the dance floor. but i had prosthetics on, which i applied myself for the first time (fuck yes), had draped fabric over my boots to create a different silhouette, and was wearing my new favorite vintage torn knitted top with the pearl beads at the hem, and i felt confident.

even with af in my inbox questioning every creative decision i’ve made so far for the music video and, in parallel, acting the least supportive out of all of my friends in this time when they are, in fact, my best friend. trying not to let that take up too much of my headspace while i’m starting this new evolutionary phase of my life. i think it’s important to notice these things now, though, and i’m glad to have people around me who are supportive. it’s just always hard to trust support, questioning it as mere validation, while also distrusting any hesitance to cruelty, able to justify my reactions as just being sensitive.

i have talked and journaled and though that decision to death, however, and as of tonight, have locked color on the video and fixed the issue af told me was unfixable and i am content and happy and proud of what we have created, so i will move on.

last night, i saw my artistic mother, fka twigs, in person for the first time in my life, having come into myself, in a different time, with her music as my soundtrack, as a teenager. interesting, talking to freak today about high school, spending so much time institutionalized against my will, and that fka twigs’s music had so much relevance in my life at that point. i used to reblog gifs of her swinging in hair bondage and now i am about to release a music video with the same sword performer she used in her video for sad day. we danced the night away, tried to see through the ocean of phones, tried to capture what we could, made out in stalls, corners, smoked in the basement, and watched twigs, the mother of creatures, reach out to us, and just as i felt when i came out of the hole in the ground on the first day of shooting, it felt like boypop, the creature inside me, had been borne into something new. into life, into reality. we saw friends on the dance floor, ones we didn’t even know would be there, and rejoiced in a world where music is what holds us all together, what drives everything from our fashion to our work schedules, and it was eusexua.

and after we danced, the song was out in the world, and there was nothing i could do about it. all there was to do was sleep.

and today, although i woke up with a text from af that made me want to physically crawl through the phone just them if they know they are being just. like. their. mother. right now, or if it’s just a fucking coincidence, i did pivot enough to focus on the light + joy + excitement + relief that is this moment. i am proud of myself, for doing this, for making it this far, for fucking finishing the first last step. i didn’t call my mom, and i sure as fuck didn’t call my dad, but i did post like hell, send the song directly to the people who have expressed interest and are in my life.

i feel like people in music are kind of afraid of sharing their work when it’s not promo? and like direct messaging is a lot more work, but feels so much more genuine? i come from the literary world before music, so i’m very used to actively share your work with people who want to read it. it’s not often you get to the place where you can direct them where to buy your sales. when people expressed interest in my work, i would send them links to my website or articles/essays/short stories/poems that had been published of mine, or unpublished ones too, and it was never about getting views, but it was about the act of sharing your art/work with that individual person and them giving you back feedback and/or support if they liked it/fucked with it. so, yeah, i know that plenty of people are plugged in while also being very not plugged in, i know that there are people who have supported me along the way who have asked me where to listen to my music, and today, i finally had something to send them. so, i sent it to everyone in my close circles (ok maybe like 60% but i’ll keep going throughout the week), and i did write a lot of personalized messages to people who loved + supported me through this process/into the version of myself that has created this art.

the response i received, both from people i shared the song with, and from people i didn’t, was honestly overwhelming for my first single. i just like expected no one to know it was happening? at this point, i am just so shocked anyone has interest in something i’m doing that isn’t for something or someone else. so, i am forcing myself to paste the comments and notes and messages that made my heart happy today, because i want to remember this, because i need to cement celebration in my brain if i am going to survive my relationship with my art through this industry. and because reading every single one of these reminds me that the little decisions i make, the hyper fixations, the lore, the thread, is all worth it, because i know it, because it’s important to me, and sometimes, other people see it too (not pictured here)

[aemonds-sapphire]

Coffee Run - Hawks x Reader (Smut)

Summary: Hawks simply wanted to enjoy his coffee in peace, but you had needs of your own, especially knowing he was entering his rut. You know what they say... be careful with what you wish for, because you just might get it.

Warnings: NSFW. Rut!Hawks. Feral Hawks. Public sex. Breeding kink. Pregnancy kink. Lactation kink (brief mention). Featherplay. Slight overstimulation.

Word count: 3.7k

Hawks was nearing his rut. That much was clear. Keeping up an easy going appearance was what he excelled at, until he hit that particular time of the year. Until he was forced to take that medication that would suppress his primal instinct to breed.

But rarely anything in this world came without bearing unpleasant consequences.

“I’ll just have the usual. Thanks.”

The young waitress then turned to you expectantly. “And you, miss?”

You pondered for a second as you eyed the pro hero sitting in front of you. To anyone oblivious to the changes occurring in his body they might think he was just not a morning person.

An idea popped in your mind all of a sudden.

“I’ll have a strawberry lollipop,” you finally said, causing Hawks to briefly lift his eyes from the phone in his hand. “What? I have a sweet tooth.”

The waitress nodded and walked away. He was still glaring at you, one fuzzy eyebrow slightly arched.

“Just that? It’s not a proper breakfast.”

“Neither is coffee, yet here we are.”

He shrugged at your response, shifting his attention back to his phone.

Coffee was his personal mood booster. It was dangerous to demand anything from a rutting Hawks until he had drunk an unhealthy amount of it.

The sun was barely out, and that was exactly why he’d choose this café. Only a few people would be there, which meant he wouldn’t have to deal with loud fans walking up to him and asking for selfies or autographs... or even hugs. It was perfect to hide from everyone how moody and snappy he could get in times like these.

But you figured he still wasn’t taking the medication. He always dreaded it because of how groggy and lethargic it’d leave him.

“You okay?”

He had his index finger flicking up and down on the screen. “Sure.”

But what Hawks didn’t know was that... well... you knew what why he was acting so unlike him.

Soon after, the waitress came back with a large cup of coffee and your lollipop that you promptly snatched from the tray with a smile.

Hawks mumbled a quick ‘thanks’ and you watched him take a few gulps of the hot beverage, while you removed the wrapping.

He sighed in pure relief as his huge wings vibrated from the instant pleasure. “I really needed this.”

You also reckoned he needed something else.

Sliding the round candy in your mouth, you propped your chin on interlaced fingers, regarding him quizzically.

“Is that all you need?”

The apparent innocent question had his golden eyes meet yours. However, you needed them to travel south, so you parted your lips seductively and dangled the lollipop from one corner of your mouth to the other with your tongue.

Bingo.

Hawks’ eyes dropped to your mouth in an instant, taking in the sight of you skilfully twirling the stick while letting out some lewd wet sounds.

“Stop it.”

“Stop what? I love sucking...” you said innocently.

The cup in his hand cracked lightly from his tight grip, and a faint frown settled on his beautiful face.

“You sure you okay?”

For someone who was able to maintain an wavering smile not matter the circumstances, Hawks really was falling behind his reputation. Maybe it wasn’t wise for you to keep pushing him like this. All the innuendos and teasing would eventually get him to snap.

You kept on sucking and licking the hard candy happily, eyeing your boyfriend with utmost interest.

He took another sip of his hot coffee, and you noticed his pupils were slightly dilated. Undoubtedly, the visual of you sucking on something was a enough to spark his arousal.

“Hmm... this tastes so good...” you moaned softly, fluttering your eyes shut for a brief moment. “Want to taste it?”

When he didn’t reply, you decided to take it up a notch. You kicked off your shoe and moved it to touch his leg.

He arched an eyebrow.

Slowly, you began sliding it up his leg and only stopped once you’d reached his inner thigh.

“Stop...”

You let the round candy caress your bottom lip, making sure he could see strings of your saliva sliding down to coat your tongue. Mustering a bit more courage, you dragged your feet until it reached his crotch.

Hawks was hard as a rock.

“You’re so warm...” you whispered, rubbing your foot against his cock.

You could tell he was about to snap.

“Hawks? Honey, look! It’s Hawks!”

You quickly turned your head to look at a young couple that was approaching your table. It couldn’t be avoided. Even in the early hours there would always be someone who was a fan of Hawks.

Hawks was forced to regain his composure, and you figure it was taking every single fibre in his body to produce his trademark unwavering grin.

The woman seemed a little hesitant at first. “Are we interrupting something? I’m so sorry... we are big fans.”

“You are such an inspiration to us,” the man added with excitement.

“Thank you!” Hawks beamed, his beautiful features never betraying what was going on under the table. “Want an autograph?”

She quickly nodded, rummaging through her purse to get a pen. “Our baby will love you, too. We’ll make sure of that.”

Hawks visibly swallowed. “Baby?”

“Yes! We found out we’re going to be parents last week.”

You side-eyed him closely. Inwardly, you started cackling in delight, knowing far too well this was one of Hawks’ most intimate triggers. It was far too obvious that being in his rut made it all much worse for him

“Congratulations! How is everything going?” you inquired sweetly, applying gentle pressure on his covered erection with your toes.

He shifted in his seat, doing his best to cope with the sudden stimulation coming from you.

The woman seemed taken aback by your kindness and quickly bowed her head while handing the pen to Hawks.

“Oh, the morning sickness can be quite draining, but otherwise I can’t complain.”

Her partner handed Hawks a copy of a magazine that had him on the cover. He blushed awkwardly. “She keeps it in her purse in case we run into you so we can get an autograph.”

“That’s awesome,” he said genuinely, his voice slightly strained as he drew his signature on it. “Thanks for the support.”

The couple retrieved the magazine and bowed to both of you before walking away.

“That is so cool...” you said, twirling the lollipop stick in between your thumb and index finger. “I wonder what it feels like being pregnant.”

Hawks moved your foot away from his crotch. “Bathroom. Now.”

Your mouth fell open at his sudden outburst, sliding your foot back into your shoe. “Why?”

He rose to his full height as his red wings quivered slightly. “I’m done with you.”

Placing the hard candy back on its wrapping, you gulped as you followed his lead. The café had started to get more clients, and some of them shot a few glares at the winged hero.

The waitress was eyeing both of you. “Is everything okay?”

Hawks shot a brief smile. “She’s not feeling well.”

He certainly had a way to have things go his way.

She looked at yo worriedly. “Should I get help?”

Hawks hurried you into the bathroom, before adding. “She’s with the number two pro hero. I’m all the help she needs.”

Point taken.

Hawks pulled you into a small cubicle, shutting the door with a kick. You heard the lock rattle and you took the opportunity turn around to face him. His massive wings struggled to fit inside the confined space, which caused him to look more menacing as they coiled up against his body.

“You’re rutting.”

His pupils were fully blown and you briefly saw something flash in his eyes. “Of course you know.”

“I know a lot of things,” you cooed, dragging down one hand to squeeze him through his pants. “You’re not taking your medication.”

You’d been dating Hawks for a few months now, and you found out that he went through a rut every year by mere chance. It didn’t take long for you to connect the dots after hearing a phone conversation between him and someone from the commission — you assumed it was a doctor —, who insisted that Hawks had to take the hormonal suppressant medication to lessen the effects, allowing him to function properly.

“I don’t fucking need it,” he snarled at you through gritted teeth.

“I think you do... if you’re so willing to fuck me in a public bathroom,” you whispered seductively, giving his cock a gentle squeeze. “I wonder what made you snap... was it the conversation about pregnancy... or—“

Hawks had had enough of your running your mouth, and with little effort on his part, he flipped you over so that you were now pressed against the bathroom sink, a tall mirror capturing your surprised expression along with his feral one.

“No, little bird...” he growled, hooking his gloved fingers in the belt loops of your pants. “I am not gonna fuck you. I’m gonna breed you.”

It was a dark promise, and one you knew he could keep. After all, that was the purpose of a rut: to breed. Every single cell in his body was prepared for this, and you couldn’t bring yourself to pretend this sudden shift in Hawks’ demeanor didn’t make your pussy clench.

Your hands were supporting your weight by gripping the edge of the cold material of the sink, and you tentatively leaned forward in an attempt to brush against his crotch.

Hawks slid one hand to your front, effectively undoing your pants. “You’re ovulating... fuck...”

That caught by surprise. “What...”

He shifted his body on top of yours, so he could nuzzle your neck, capturing your scent.

“I can smell it... fuck...fuck... you need to be bred...”

In one swift motion, he yanked your pants down. Hawks was usually so much more gentle with you during sex; this was definitely something unexpected, but that you couldn’t stop yourself from yearning.

On the other hand, you considered his words for a moment. Did he really mean it? Did he really want to knock you up, or was this just his hormones talking?

Either way, this was turning you on beyond belief, and you decided to egg him on.

“You want to breed me?”

He was nipping at your neck, causing a few of his moans to be heard. You could feel the hard print of his cock pressed against the curve of your ass, and as you bucked your hips instinctively you felt his own meet you halfway, setting a slow rhythm.

“I need to knock you up... I need you tummy all swollen with my baby,” the young man kept mumbling more to himself than to you, but you couldn’t get enough of it. “I need your... your...”

A gush of wetness leaked out of your pussy as you felt him fumbling with his belt. Through the reflection in the mirror, you could see a faint blush settling on his face, increasing his handsomeness by a tenfold — you didn’t even know how that was possible.

“My what...” your voice came out in a low mewl, keeping your hips swaying at a steady pace.

Hawks undid his pants at once, and gave your ass cheeks a few slaps with his leaking cock.

He gripped your hip tightly. “Let me see your tits...”

You kept yourself balance on one hand as the other dragged the fabric of your shirt up, rolling it just above your breasts. Hawks released his cock, bringing his hips forward to have it slide between your round cheeks; you could start to feel the wetness coating your skin and standing your panties as he kept humping you. His free hand moved to grasp your bra, jerking the material down and finally exposing your hardening nipples.

Hawks heaved a deep breath, resting his chin on your shoulder as he looked at your body through the mirror.

“Can’t wait until they get bigger... full of milk... leaking for me...” he brushed his gloved thumb across your sensitive nipple, causing it to harden even more. “I bet it will taste so good... so sweet... you know I love sweet things.”

Your mind was going blank from all the pleasure being delivered to you at once. From his cock slowly fucking your ass cheeks all the way to the way he was glaring at you through some public bathroom mirror while spitting out the filthiest things you had ever heard him utter.

He snapped his hips hard for a split second, almost causing you to lose balance, forcing you to grip the sink with both hands, eyes still fixed on the way your breasts bounced softly along with each shove from him.

Slowly, he dragged his hand to your lower abdomen, massaging it with spread fingers. “Fuck... I need to feel it getting swollen... gonna knock you up so good.”

Streaks of precum were sliding down your cheeks, leaving wet trails behind and sending jolts of pleasure running down your spine.

“Sorry, but I’m gonna make you cum fast,” he suddenly said.

You weren’t really sure why he was apologizing for that, or even how he intended to achieve such feat. Hawks was more than capable of pleasuring women, but even the most skilled man certainly had his limitations when it came to how fast they could make a woman reach her high.

Even so, apologizing for giving someone an orgasm probably ranked up high with the likes of “Sorry, but I’m going to give you a new house” or “Sorry, but I’m going to give you an unlimited supply of money”. Out of all the things he could feel sorry for — like desperately banging you in some public bathroom, for example—, that one should be the least of his concerns.

As if reading the skepticism splattered across your face, he gave you a knowing smile, and before you could even wonder what he meant by that you felt something poking your covered clit.

What the...

“Hawks!”

You didn’t expect desperate Hawks to play fair, but this was on another level. The fabric covering your soaked pussy was being pulled to the side, and in no time a velvety object started proving your pulsing clit.

He was using his feathers.

Now you knew what he meant by making you cum fast, the bastard. The sensation was overwhelming, and you vaguely wondered why he had never tried this before.

“Shh... I need you to cum first, so I can have your pussy milking my cock,” he pressed a kiss on your neck. “Be a good girl and keep your voice down.”

With one hand still caressing your tummy and the other squeezing one breasts softly, you tried hard to bite back your moans as his feather kept stroking your clit as he commanded.

You started panting heavily, drunk in pleasure. “I... I... Hawks...”

Seeing that you weren’t going to be able to keep quiet, he brought the hand on your breast to clamp it over your mouth.

“You’re so ready for me... I can feel the vibrations through my feather... you’re throbbing so much for me, baby...”

And it was the absolute truth. Your were absolutely sure his feather was already drenched in your juices, but you didn’t care at all. A few more flicks and strokes sent your hips into auto-pilot, trying to get more friction.

Long and drawn out moans erupted from your throat only to be muffled by his gloved hand.

You could feel something in your core swirling and shifting and through the haze of passion, you could tell it was the tension building up inside you that was reaching a dangerous peak.

“Good girl... t-that’s my girl... getting ready for me to breed her...”

His dirty talk served as the perfect incentive for you to get closer and closer to the edge. You saw your vision begin to tunnel and suddenly you fell headfirst into the explosion of pleasure that had your arms and legs shake violently, and you thanked the heavens that Hawks’ body was pressed against yours, or you’d have sunk to your feet.

But before your pussy could stop contracting around nothing, you felt your body being pushed forward and in one quick slide, his cock was buried deep inside you.

Hawks’ hips faltered for a second as he adjusted to your tightness. “Fuck!”

The feather brushing your clit stopped its ministrations, and as your field of vision started clearing, you saw it hovering in front of your face. It was completely covered in your juices and a few droplets dripped onto the sink. His hand fell to grip your hip, and your lips immediately parted in a silent scream as overstimulation took over.

“Keep it open... lick... lick it...” he groaned, his voice strained and shaky as his cock endured your contractions.

You extended your tongue out, allowing is feather to drag along it, pooling your wetness on your tongue.

Hawks’ reflection shivered before your eyes at the newfound source of pleasure. “F-fuuuck... just like that...”

His wings fluttered as so did the feather stroking your muscle, and even though your orgasm had already subsided, the never ending stimulation from his thick cock hitting deep inside you was just too much.

“I’m gonna lose it! Fuck!” he nearly cried out, ad you could only pray that no one could hear him outside.

Your knees bucked weakly as he snapped his hips into you once, twice and again closing in on his own release, but the moment you ran your tongue over the sensitive extension of his body you knew he was done for. He bucked up to meet your hips in an especially sharp thrust and you could feel the hot gush of his cum deep inside you, coating your trembling walls, mixing with your own juices.

He hadn’t lasted long, but you weren’t at all surprised, considering how much the vast array of different stimuli that he was subjected to in such a sort amount of time.

A few seconds ticked by, and he finally began pulling out, you pussy reflexively clamping around him as if to make him stay.

“Stop clenching like that before I get hard again...” he warned, giving your ass a soft smack as he slid out completely with a loud slurping sound.

You whimpered softly as emptiness filled you instead. As you were about to straighten yourself, you felt a blob of cum threading to spill, and Hawks promptly kept you leaning forward.

“I didn’t just fill you with a big load for you to waste it all,” and with that, he dragged the tip of his cock along your leaking pussy and pushed it back inside. “There you go... all stuffed again.”

The head of his cock didn’t stay inside you for long, and once he slid out you reached for paper from the dispenser hanging on the wall.

He grabbed your arm. “No.”

“I need to clean myself...”

“No, you don’t,” Hawks whispered sweetly into your ear, and you felt him tug at your panties before letting the fabric slap your over sensitive clit. “You’re gonna be a good girl and keep it all in.”

Your eyes widened in shock. Certainly, he didn’t mean that....

“Hawks... I can’t walk around with your cum dripping from me,” you stated as a matter of fact.

You saw his reflection in the mirror; he had a devious smile dancing on his lips, making your insides coil in sudden realization.

“Didn’t you want me to breed you? Then keep my cum inside your tight pussy,” he began, planting soft caring kisses on the side of your neck in between. “Think you can do that for me, beautiful?”

Feeling your panties sticking to your swollen lips with the aftermath of both your juices and drops of his cum made a shiver run down you entire body.

You nodded once.

Suddenly, he bent over slightly to grasp the waistband of your pants, quickly dragging them up your thighs.

“Time to go,” he huffed as one of his gloved hands brushed along his unruly golden locks of hair. “This was just meant to be a quick coffee run.”

There was a faint smudge of pink crossing his nose and resting on both his cheeks. He looked positively less tense, with his blush being the only indicator that he had just emptied his balls deep inside you.

He unlocked the door and exited first, but not before shooting his Hawks-like smile at you. “I’ll be going ahead to pay and deal with the fans.”

You chuckled as the door closed, and turned to look at your reflection in the mirror while adjusting your clothes. “Well... don’t look at me like that. He’s impossible to resist, especially like this...”

After you were done washing your hands, you took a few steps immediately feeling a few drops of cum dripping onto your panties. You clenched your pussy hard in the hopes of preventing more from spilling.

This was not going to end well.

Taking a deep breath, you walked out and were met with the waitress. “Oh! Are you alright now?”

Yeah, I just got fucked hard and I have cum leaking from me. “Yes! Thank you, and sorry for leaving like that... I really wasn’t feeling well.”

She nodded in understanding, stepping aside to let you walk into the lobby only to see a loud commotion of people piling up around something. Big massive turfs of scarlet feathers quickly gave it away and you smiled fondly.

Hawks.

A few girls standing nearby were giggling to each other, catching your attention.

“Oh my... he’s so much more handsome up close,” one said with a dreamy sigh.

“His wings are so pretty...” the other murmured.

Yes. Hawks had that effect on nearly everyone he crossed paths with. In one way or another, people had the tendency to fall fo him and be drawn by his quirky personality. Even if at the end of the day, once he got home, you could see the wearing effects of having to keep up with this society’s standards.

As the crowd began to disperse, he waved a hand at you.

“It was so nice to have you here, Hawks,” the young waitress blurted out as you two made your exit. “Please come again!”

The number two pro hero bowed his head and gave her a thumbs up. “I’m sure I will. Very soon,” he winked at you.

Very poor choice of words.

-

Masterlist

[wandaromanova]

Lost

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x Fem!Reader

Warnings: mentions of cancer, death, cussing

A/N: hello! i’d like to put a disclaimer that i am not in any way knowledgeable of the medical field and all of the terminology and information used in this fic was found through research! happy reading <3

anon requested: hiiiii !! can i request like an angst into fluff natxfem!reader one shot where the reader has a really bad day and takes it out on nat and hurts her feelings and so they go to bed angry. but the reader realizes their mistake and the next morning just wakes her up by showering her with love and then takes the whole day to do cute little date things with her? like making her favorite meal or like dancing in the kitchen to their favorite song late at night or just super fluffy things? if not, that’s okay!! have a good day <3

Summary: The heavy weight of her profession gets to Y/N and she takes her anger out on her loving girlfriend; Natasha Romanoff.

Word Count: 3K | navigation

please do not repost or try and take ownership of my work. reblogs, likes, and comments are always welcome. <3

Becoming a doctor was no easy feat.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

Once high school is completed, one must receive your bachelor’s degree before taking the MCAT exam and applying to medical school. After four years of medical school, you must endure a year as an intern before being promoted to a resident. 

Depending on what specialty one has selected, residency can span from three to seven years. Fellowships follow after but are typically an optional course that provides extra training. 

Yes, there are a lot of necessary steps to take in order to set foot into the medical world, but somehow, the years of foreplay could never compare to being a full-fledged physician; and you knew this all too well.

You are a pediatric oncologist and your job was to diagnose and provide treatment to children and teenagers who had cancer. You specialized in hematology; the treatment of blood disorders.

You were the head of pediatric oncology in a Manhattan hospital. You dealt with a lot of patients, but a two-year-old little girl named Sarah was secretly your favorite. 

Despite being diagnosed with acute myeloid leukemia, Sarah’s positivity and playful personality never faltered.

Even if she didn’t understand the circumstances because of her young age, you knew she was suffering. Regardless of it all, every session you had with her was endearing.

You met with the child once a week to administer chemotherapy. Her enthusiasm never failed to have you awestruck. Most of your patients were exhausted from the treatments, but not Sarah. 

She was a hyper child who would attempt to sing Frozen songs, performing as you tried to fight a smile from taking over your features. She had a stuffed Olaf doll that she brought with her to every visit and it was heartwarming to see her hug the doll close to her chest. 

Sarah would even bring you drawings every week that you would keep in your locker. You’d admire each and every one of the drawings, even if you couldn’t really tell what they were.

You’d grown fond of the little girl in the past two months you had been treating her. You were also relatively close to her parents, who were probably the kindest people you’ve ever encountered. It made sense that Sarah was the ball of sunshine she was, she obviously got it from her parents.

Most times, parents were on edge and extremely short-tempered. If parents saw you often, that meant that their child was diagnosed with some form of cancer. Understandably, they would be rather hostile whilst interacting with you, but you never took their behavior personally. 

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

If you were in their shoes, you were positive that you wouldn’t be very friendly either. 

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

You had grown fond of the beaming child. You were aware that growing emotionally attached to patients was unprofessional, but how could you not? 

You adored children and for that very reason, you had chosen a specialty that allowed you to help kids as much as medicine would allow. You always had a soft spot for kids and you found joy in helping them as best as you possibly could.

Sarah had a very good chance at pulling through. With consistent treatment and her young age, her survival rate was around 68%. Those were considerably good odds in these circumstances. Not to mention, the chemotherapy seemed to be paying off. At the rate she was improving, she was predicted to be out of the woods soon enough.

However, the child had developed a bacterial infection. Since she had been receiving chemotherapy, the treatment had damaged her white blood cells which are responsible for fighting off infections. 

All you could do was provide antibiotics to try and fight off the infection. You had monitored her for some time in hopes of seeing any sign of improvement, but unfortunately, it wasn’t enough. Her immune system was extremely vulnerable and there wasn’t any way to reverse the damage. 

Your heart was torn to pieces when you delivered the news to her parents. They broke down in the hallway outside of Sarah’s room as you informed them of Sarah’s rapidly shortened life expectancy. It was only a matter of time before the young child would pass and honestly, this was what you hated most about your job.

You hated that you couldn’t help every single patient. You hated how cruel the world could be to take away an innocent child from their loving parents. 

You allowed her parents to spend time by her bedside. They laid on either side of her bed, clinging onto her for dear life. What broke you the most was the paleness of Sarah’s once glowing skin. Her smile was still present but didn’t quite reach her eyes like it used to. 

Her parents quietly sang ‘Love Is An Open Door’ to Sarah. You felt your heart clench in a bittersweet way as you silently watched. Normally, Sarah wouldn’t hesitate to join in, but her lack of breath prevented her from doing so. All she could do was close her eyes and lightly nod her head along to their voices. 

Sarah passed hours later and it was an extremely somber experience. Hearing the cries of parents who lost their children wasn’t easy and it never would be. Your job had its pros and cons, and this was the biggest negative.

You fought back your own tears as you exited the room, giving the two mourning parents some privacy after you recorded Sarah’s time of death. You found the nearest restroom and allowed the tears to fall down your face. 

A pure soul had been ripped away from the world, never having the chance to experience the great things life had to offer.

•❅──────────────── ‎⧗ ────────────────❅•

4 Hours Later

You trudged into your loft, immediately taking off your coat and hanging it up before tossing your keys on the small table by the front door. 

Your girlfriend, Natasha, had heard your arrival and quickly exited the bedroom to greet you, a wide smile on her face. However, her smile fell when she noticed your defeated state. 

Your shoulders were slumped as you slouched slightly and your eyes were dripping with sadness. 

“Honey? What’s wrong?” Natasha approached you while you stood frozen in front of the door. Her hands came up to cup your cheeks as she stared at you in concern, her eyes scanning over your features. 

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

“I lost Sarah.” 

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

Natasha’s eyes widened and her heart sunk at your words. She was aware of how much you adored the two-year-old. Once a week, you would rave about the child and how adorable she was at the dinner table. You would go on and on about how Sarah would sing to you, draw pictures for you, and bring along stickers to place onto your coat.

The redhead loved how happy you looked whenever you spoke about any of your patients, but most especially Sarah. It brought Natasha some joy of her own to see you speak animatedly about Sarah; your happiness was her happiness. 

So, the news hurt her almost as much as it hurt her. She knew how much you loved Sarah, despite never saying it straight out.

“Oh my god. I’m so sorry. I know how much you cared about her. Are you okay?” Natasha’s voice was oozing with sympathy. You couldn’t help but feel irritated by her question. 

You tore her hands off of your cheeks and walked past her and into the kitchen, pouring yourself a glass of water as the redhead watched you intently. 

“Am I okay? I’m fine! It’s not like I lost an extremely young patient today or anything. What kind of stupid fucking question is that, Natasha?” You took a sip of cold water to try and calm yourself damn, but your attempt was futile. 

The redhead made her way into the kitchen, standing on the opposite side of the island as you took another sip of water, eyes burning a hole into her head over the rim of the glass. 

“I know, that was a dumb question. I just want to help you, Y/N/N.” Natasha remained calm and patient as she spoke to you. She was no stranger to the loss of a person she desperately tried to save and knew all too well the sadness and anger that accompanied the tragedy. She was an Avenger, after all. 

“I don’t want your help and I don’t need you!” You slammed your cup onto the counter as you raised your voice. Honestly, it was surprising that you hadn’t shattered the glass with the amount of force you exerted. 

Natasha felt an ache in her chest as you yelled at her. She knew that you weren’t in the right state of mind and didn’t take it personally, but that didn’t make your words hurt any less. 

“You save entire cities and I can’t even save a single fucking person!” You were turning red at this point, tears of frustration streaming down your face. The redhead hated seeing you cry, but she knew better than to approach you at this moment. 

“Babe, you save so many pe-” Natasha’s tried to speak, but you quickly interjected. 

“If you’re going to try and spew some philosophical bullshit to me right now, I don’t want to hear it. I don’t want to hear another god damn word from your mouth.”

The redhead looked down defeatedly. She had never seen you so upset, let alone direct your frustrations towards her. Her eyes fell down to the marble counter between you both before looking up at you. You were breathing heavily, your chest rising and falling rapidly as you tried to catch your breath. 

Without another word, Natasha retreated back to the bedroom, shutting the door softly behind her. You watched her until she was out of your view and let out a sigh. Your hands gripped the edges of the kitchen island, supporting your weight as you shut your eyes. 

You brought a hand up to your face and pinched the bridge of your nose. After a few minutes, you made your way into the living room, chucking off your shoes before collapsing onto the couch. You didn’t feel like interacting with Natasha anymore tonight, knowing that you most likely wouldn’t be able to control your temper. 

You were just so fed up with the painful losses you had to endure from your profession. 

You knew that being a doctor was more dark clouds and thunder, than sunshine and rainbows, but you just wished that for once, the weather forecast would work in your favor. 

The emotional day had finally caught up to you. Your body relaxed as you sunk further into the couch, eyes fluttering shut as you succumbed to a much-needed slumber. 

Unbeknownst to you, Natasha was still awake. She laid flat on her back and stared up at the ceiling in thought. She was mad at you, as much as she didn’t want to be. Natasha had gone through the same thing and never lost her cool with you as you had with her. 

The redhead calmed down slowly, turning on her side and facing the empty space beside her which you normally occupied. She reached one arm out, her skin colliding with cool sheets, already missing the warmth of your body. 

Natasha hated sleeping without you by her side, She didn’t feel complete when you weren’t steadily sleeping next to her, your arms wrapped around her body. However, she hoped that things would improve in the morning.

And with that thought in mind, she drifted off into a dreamless sleep, clutching the sheets firmly in her hand. 

•❅──────────────── ‎⧗ ────────────────❅•

 The Next Morning

You awoke to a blinding light, the morning sun shining through the windows and landing directly onto your face. You let out a groan and slowly sat up, stretching out your limbs with a groan. The couch wasn’t the most comfortable place to sleep, you were aching everywhere. 

You sat there for a moment as the events of the day before caught up to you. Not only had you lost Sarah, but you upset Natasha. You immediately felt guilty as you recalled the harsh words you spat at her in a fit of rage. You felt like a complete asshole, and rightfully so. 

You quickly stood up and entered the kitchen, retrieving some bacon from the freezer and eggs from the refrigerator. You grabbed two separate pans and washed your hands, making sure to get the coffee pot running before you began cooking.

Your girlfriend absolutely loved bacon, eggs, and coffee. She described the combinations as a ‘party in her mouth.’ So, this was going to be an ‘i’m sorry for being a bitch last night’ apology breakfast. 

You got started on the meal and by the time you finished up and had the stove off, Natasha stalked out of the bedroom slowly. She eyed you carefully as she approached, you sent a soft smile her way.

“You made breakfast,” Natasha spoke and you shyly nodded your head. You moved away from the stove and rounded the counter. The redhead stood in her spot as you wrapped your arms around her waist, her arms reflexively going around your neck.

“I was an asshole last night.” You stated and your girlfriend nodded her head in agreement. “Yeah, you were a total pain in the ass, the absolute worst.” You rolled your eyes at Natasha’s teasing tone.

“I’m sorry for how I behaved. I was just so upset about… Sarah. I didn’t mean to take it out on you and I can’t even begin to tell you how bad I feel for yelling at you when all you wanted to do was help me.”

Your voice was full of emotion, your eyes boring into her emerald irises as you poured your heart into every syllable you uttered. Natasha smile gently at you, her fingers lightly tugging on the baby hairs on the nape of your neck. 

“It’s okay. I know you weren’t mad at me.” You let out a sigh of relief as the redhead stared at you softly. She let out a small chuckle at your dramatics before continuing.

‘I understand how you feel. The team and I, we try our very best to save as many civilians as we can, but sometimes it’s completely out of our control. It’s the exact same situation.” 

One of Natasha’s hands found its way to your cheek, gently cupping the skin as you leaned into her touch. You were listening intently to her every word, mesmerized by the calming rasp of her voice.

“Don’t dwell on what you couldn’t do, but give yourself some credit for everything you did do. I may not know what happened, but what I do know is that you tried everything you could, no?”

Natasha questioned you and you nodded your head. “I gave her antibiotics to fight the infection, but it was too severe.” The redhead rubbed her thumb against your cheek. 

“All that matters is that you did your best and that’s all anyone could ever ask for.” Natasha ended her little speech as she placed a soft kiss on the tip of your nose. You couldn’t help but smile, an overwhelming feeling of happiness taking over. 

“Thank you. I love you and your… what was it?” You furrowed your eyebrows in concentration before your face lit up. Natasha raised an eyebrow at you. “Philosophical bullshit. That was the words.” The Russian let out a laugh, shaking her head from side to side at your antics. 

“Seriously though, I’m so grateful for you. You’re so amazing to me even when I don’t deserve it. I don’t know what I’d do without you.” Natasha’s laughter died down as your tone turned serious. Your eyes were so full of love and adoration as you stared into her eyes deeply. 

“Well, let’s hope you never have to find out.” Natasha smiled once more and you couldn’t resist pressing your lips against her plump ones. Your mouths moved in tandem at a slow pace, enjoying the rawness and love that accompanied each movement. 

You broke the kiss when air became an issue. Nat’s eyes fluttered open as you wiggled your eyebrows at her playfully. 

“So, are you ready for some breakfast? Maybe after we eat, we can go on top of a rooftop and I’ll serenade you with a rendition of ‘Sorry’ by Justin Bieber.”

Natasha’s head flew back as she laughed uncontrollably at your words. “What? Do you not like the Biebs? If you want, I could play ‘Baby Come Back’ by Player from a boombox and hold it over my head, instead.” The redhead continued to laugh profusely and you soon joined in. Your arms tightened around her waist as your giggles subsided. 

“I think cuddling on the couch and watching the Kardashians eating ridiculously large bowls of salad will do.” You nodded your head in agreement but didn’t make a move to release Natasha from your grip. She didn’t let go either. 

The two of you just stood there, basking in each other’s embrace, a comfortable silence falling over you both. 

Natasha never failed to say the right things to pull you out of the dark abyss that was your mind. She was completely right, as always. There would always be bad days, patients who were progressing one day and deteriorating the next. 

However, there were also good days, and you shouldn’t allow the bad to overshadow all the good you’ve done. Like with Natasha, she wasn’t always the superhero she is today. She took her dark past and turned it into a bright future. 

Nat didn’t let her bad days define her and neither should you.

Of course, you would always remember every single patient you had lost, but now, you would take the pain and turn it into motivation; motivation to improve yourself, not only in your professional life but in your personal life as well. 

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

You would do right by the ones you’ve lost and the one who stuck by your side; Natasha Romanoff. 

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

───────── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ──────────

join my taglist!

taglist: @perfectromanoff @aliancvnas @ultimateskyscraper @marvelwomenslut @chaekhan @rvselie @imasimpfornatashamaximoff @prentisshoe @mcubreakdown101 @multiyfandomgirl40 @fear-street-girls @007giu @weelight @scotts-orange-slices @puppy-danvers2016 @acertainredhead @lynxwhispurrs @mindofwesley @lostandsearching @tquick99 @rachel146 @illloveyou @thewidowsghost @wandasgirlfriend @sapphic-stress @olicity-boo @suki-is-a-queen @xxromanoffxx @b-5by5 @hagridsmomma @ooobviouslyyyy @blurryylines @yeeterthekeeper @maximoff-jp @midnight-lestrange @tomatonugget @mrs-avenger3000 @wandadarlingg @wandanatblogs @nooshe @simpfornatasharomanoff @nylevea

[tetsunormous]

Reencounters

pairing: Matsukawa Issei x f!reader

genre: college au, friends to lovers, smut (18+), fluff

word count: 6.5K

warnings: cunnilingus, fingering, vaginal penetration, unprotected sex, creampie, swearing, nipple play, pinning

A/N: This is for Ria's @bakugohoex's rich boy collab 💜 Congrat's on 3k!! thank you to @ohno-otome and @armins-futon for reading this for me. I love matsukawa but I don't write for him often so this has been really fun :)

Walking into your new dorm room, you weren’t sure what to expect. Sure, you’ve seen the pictures online, but there’s nothing like the slightly dusty window letting in a hazy ray of light shining down onto the slight dip in the middle of the mattress you now call your own. Your desk almost touched the corner of your twin-sized bed, and your new bookshelf barely has enough room to fit half of the books you brought, but this was your new life. It didn’t dawn on you just how different university would be until you arrived this morning, but here you were, unpacking all your clothes into the cramped closet in the corner. Luckily, you’re in the building where you had a single room. Privacy was something you were worried about, and the communal washrooms will be something to get used to, but either way, this was a new start, and no matter how nervous you are, you’re grateful for it.

High school wasn’t terrible, but it definitely wasn’t what you expected it to be. Going into it, you obviously knew that it would be nothing like how the movies depicted, but you were excited. How bad could those four years really be if you had your best friend right by your side? He was incredible. He understood you better than anybody else, would be able to tell how you were feeling without the exchange of words, but most of all, he was your person, and you were his.

There was no doubting that in all your years of friendship.

But alas, like all good things in life, they must come to an end.

The summer going into the twelfth grade, he was longer your best friend. The boy that would go to the farmers market with you and your mom every other Sunday was now lining up for the newest sneaker drop. The boy that would rather spend the night at home and binge-watch your shared comfort show for the seventh time is now out with the boys sneaking into shisha bars and doing donuts in the community centre parking lots with their new cars. You watched as he slowly forgot about you, getting caught up in his new friendships and obsessing over material items that he never cared about before. It’s not that you were upset he found new friends. It’s that the only time he would reach out was to randomly drop off something he had bought you in hopes it would make up for him blowing you off again.

They started small, simple sweaters he knew you would like, but the gifts became almost ridiculous as time passed. He would never let you return them either, so now you have designer shoes for imaginary banquets. Of course, you were always grateful, but you would trade all his gifts just to spend time with him again. His family has always been wealthy, they always went on lavish vacations and drove the nicest cars, but you never really cared about what he spends his money on or just how much his parents make. You cared that he saw you as a person he wanted to be with rather than just someone he could shove gifts towards to make up for the quality time he’d miss.

But now you’re here. You were arriving three hours before the suggested move-in time because you didn’t want to be rushed to unpack before orientation starts later. You’ve seen a few people walking around on your floor, but neither of your neighbours have arrived, and honestly, you don’t mind because that means you’re able to blast your music without worry. As The 1975 fills your room, you stand still for a second, really taking in where you are. You’re now attending one of the best schools in the country, living on your own with a floor of people you don’t know yet. It starts to sink in that you are starting anew. The people who end up in the rooms next to you might just end up being your lifelong friends. As the song comes to an end, you decide it’s time to try to make yourself look a little more presentable since it’s almost time for people to start rolling in.

...

It’s almost five in the afternoon, and everyone on your floor is meeting outside on the field for a quick introduction before group dinner. You’re sitting with your knees pressed to your chest as the girl next to you tries to make small talk. To be fair, she’s incredibly sweet, but you can’t focus on her because somewhere behind you, there is a voice you think you recognize. There’s no way he would be here. Sure, you have no idea what school he ended up choosing, but if he ended up here, he would’ve at least texted you. Right? Before you can confirm your suspicions, orientation starts, and your group leader is already talking with more energy than you can handle.

The group of guys settle down close by, and you can’t stop yourself from looking over, wondering if you’ll see the head of brown curls. Instead, you’re met with a bunch of frat boy looking wannabes that instantly make your eyes roll. To say you’re disappointed that you didn’t see him was so stupid. It’s been over a year, yet here you were, hoping to magically bump into him as if this was some cliche movie. If anything, it’s frustrating. It’s frustrating that even though he stopped caring for you, you still longed to see him, to hear him laugh at one of your cheesy jokes. It’s even more frustrating that this new start you’ve been looking forward to, makes you miss him even more.

There are only sixteen people on your floor, but introductions take a lifetime because someone didn’t come on time. When they finally do show up, you almost laugh at this whole situation because, of course, it was him. Of course, he was strutting down the courtyard in some brand new Gucci sneakers and the same Balenciaga sweater he had bought for you a few months ago. Of course, the annoying group of boys behind you gesture for him as he quickly apologizes to the group leaders. And, of course, when you make eye contact, he’s the one looking at you with a mixture of shock and annoyance.

Quickly rushing back to your room after the meeting, you decide you’re ordering in tonight so that you don’t have to see him for at least another day. This is all so fucked up. You wrack your brain trying to understand how probable this whole situation is because, frankly, it feels like a sick joke, and on top of it, he’s the one annoyed?

Naturally, you spend the rest of the night unpacking the rest of your things before ordering your comfort food to wash down all the feelings you’re experiencing. Putting on your favourite show, you begin your tenth rerun as you bury yourself in your blankets. Part of you feels so stupid for completely ignoring your initial dinner plans, but you knew with the mindset you had at the moment, there was no way you would have enjoyed yourself. It’s a bit silly you haven’t left your room since picking up your takeout, you don’t even know who lives beside you, but that’s a problem for tomorrow.

Slipping into your slides, you head towards the washroom with your little toiletry bag. You pass by the girl you were sitting with earlier, and she sends you a smile. After apologizing for disappearing all night she just laughs and assures you nothing happened. She even points out where her room is if you were up to hang out tomorrow during frosh activities.

Just this interaction makes you feel better, and you quietly hum along to the familiar tune coming from the shower stall.

He used to play this song all the time, claiming it spoke to him the first time he heard it. Since then, it became the song he would play anytime he’d come to pick you up, explaining how this song is special because the ending always reminded him of you. It didn’t matter how long it’s been since the two of you hung out. Every time you heard ‘Pluto Projector,’ it would always bring a smile to your face. You even tried to show the song to your ex-boyfriend, but he never paid attention to your suggestions. He always claimed that his music taste was better. Thankfully that relationship only lasted a couple of months, but still, the regret of not waiting for someone worthy lingers in your mind.

While applying your moisturizer, you hear the water shut, the person pausing the song right as the orchestra starts to come in. Worried about who you may run into, you quickly pack up your stuff. You hear the click of the lock, and as you turn around, you’re met with him, with his curly hair all damp and his obnoxious teal blue robe wrapped loosely around his waist.

Rushing past him, you briskly walk towards your room, but before you can close the door, his foot jams between the doorframe. He pushes his way in and quietly closes the door, only to be met with the unimpressed look on your face. He circles around your room, eyes searching for any trace of your past friendship before standing back at the door.

“What do you want, Matsukawa?” you ask impatiently. It’s bad enough you run into the one person you wanted to forget, but now he’s standing in your room with a matching frown.

Something indescribable flashes across his eyes, and you can visibly see his frown deepen at your question. Leaning against your door, his arms come up to rub over his face, peeking at you through his fingers before letting out a long sigh. “When did I become Matsukawa? I thought I was Issei.”

You can’t help the chuckle that escapes your lips, and you realize how childish your grudge might be, but he has changed, and the man standing in front of you isn’t the same man you once called your best friend. “When you changed, Matsukawa. Issei was my best friend, and YOU are not.”

His eyes filled with confusion as his eyebrows furrow, taking a step forward towards you. “I’m sorry? I tried to stay in touch with you. You’re the one that stopped talking to me, so I’d try to send you things instead. How was I the one who changed?”

You stand there, staring at him for a second before shaking your head. “I can’t do this right now; I want to have a good day tomorrow, so I need to go to sleep. Please, leave my room.”

His eyes soften a little, and you can see a faint glimpse of his infamous lazy smile, “We both know you’re not going to be sleeping anytime soon,” he stalks over and kicks his slides off before sitting at the end of your bed. “Let’s talk about this because, frankly, I’m tired of watching you decide if you hate me every time you see me.”

The nerve of this man. The fact that he invites himself into your room, declares his stay, and then sits on your bed without permission. You don’t even know if he’s wearing anything under that robe as his hair is literally dripping onto your comforter. Regardless of what the situation is, this action alone has you seething. Turning towards your desk chair, you harshly pull out the slightly imbalanced piece of wood and sit down, silently questioning why he isn’t the one on the chair.

He watches you stomp around, and he kinda chuckles at your little tantrum, missing how easy it was to rile you up. Your glare at him would be a little scary if he didn’t see the way your lips mumbled to yourself. It’s honestly a little cute to watch you all frustrated with him even though he saw one of the shoes he bought you in your closet. Sure, they look brand new, but the fact that you brought them here with you must mean something.

The year you two spent apart has been really stressful on Matsukawa. He thought that you’d be happy that he could give you everything you wanted. He knew he wasn’t spending as much time with you as he used to, but he thought the gifts he spent hours lining up for would make up for it.

When you stopped returning his calls and texts, he was crushed. Everyone could see how he felt about you, but then he watched you get close to another man. Within two weeks, you were dating him, and he was left watching from a distance. Neither of you ever confirmed your feelings for each other, but he could tell that man wasn’t making you happy. He didn’t understand your different facial expressions, he didn’t care about what you had to say, but all he could do was watch the girl he wanted from the sidelines.

Sure, as time went on, Matsukawa also started talking to other girls. None of them ever became his girlfriend, he didn’t think it was fair to get with someone when he was set on you, but he had his fair share of hookups. He has money, a shit ton of it, but he never let that get to his head. It wasn’t his fault that he gained popularity when he started to get into name brands and upgraded his car, but none of that ever changed who he was — at least not to the degree you had him pinned.

He watches you carefully, your leg bouncing impatiently as your eyes glare daggers in his direction. He runs his hand through his hair and lets out a sigh, “what did I do wrong? You didn’t even give me a chance to fix whatever I did (y/n).”

The lamp in the corner of your room shines a dim yellow hue onto his features. His brows are knitted in concern as he leans forwards on his knees, his robe showing off a deep v down his chest. You can feel yourself freeze up at his question, goosebumps covering your skin, while your eyes pour into his. “You changed Matsukawa. You stopped making an effort to be there. I’m not some girl you can just buy with all your money. I have never cared about how much you have or what you can afford -- you know that! It doesn’t matter what. I always split things with you because I never wanted you to feel like I was there for your money. But then suddenly, you just stop showing up. You wouldn’t even tell me you made other plans, and I would just open my door to find some package you dropped off.”

His eyes search your face before letting out a deep sigh. “I tried! You wouldn’t answer any of my calls, I know I stopped explaining myself, but can you blame me? Don’t you think I want to take you around and introduce you to all my friends? Don’t you think I miss going on late-night drives with you to 7-11? Every time I would drive past there, you’re all I thought about. You and your stupid obsession with cheese taquitos and Arizona tea. Did you even think about how I felt when you decided to act like I don’t exist?” He hastily stands up and paces around in the confined space of your dorm room. He never raises his voice, so hearing him talk at a slightly louder volume was enough to let you know he was dead serious. “You know, I never stopped talking highly about you because as selfish as it is, those boys have an important family. They have the connections you dream about (y/n), so even when you started to ignore me to go out with that fucking ex-boyfriend of yours, I never said anything.”

He looks at you with pleading eyes before going to sit back down, his elbows now resting against his thighs. “I know you don’t care about my money, but I didn’t know how else to tell you I was still thinking about you. I tried to get you things that you’d like, things that you’d wear. But no, I had to watch you put on a fake smile and laugh at that asshole’s jokes while you stubbornly ignored me to the point I thought you had me blocked.”

Looking up at you through his curls, his hooded eyes looked darker before. His lips curled into a forced smile as he let out a breathy chuckle, “he didn’t deserve you. But what do I know, right?”

You sat there quietly, taking in what he had just said. You didn’t realize how hurt he was. To be frank, up till now, you were so consumed by your feelings, and you failed to consider his own. His head is hanging between his hands, and the silence in your room right now is insufferable. He’s just explained himself, yet all you can do is scoff at yourself. While you were obsessing over the fact that Matsukawa wasn’t coming over to watch another rerun of your favourite show, he was out picking out different gifts he thought you’d like. You didn’t even open the last few because your own emotions so blinded you. Hearing him take a deep breath, he stands up and smiles sadly at you, “nice talk, (y/n). Thanks for listening.”

“I’m sorry, Issei.”

He lifts his head to meet your gaze, and you can visibly watch as his shoulders relax. It’s been too long since he’s heard you call him by his first name.

“I’m sorry too. I should’ve just gotten out of the car to talk to you.”

You look at him with a small smile. Walking towards your bed, you sit down and pat the spot beside you, pulling him in for a hug. His robe is probably the softest thing you’ve ever felt in your life, your fingers sinking into the fabric as you hold him close. His arms are immediately wrapping around you, and you both stay like that for a minute before you pull back, a faint blush blooming on your cheeks.

“No, you have nothing to apologize for. You tried reaching out to me, you tried explaining yourself, but I didn’t even give you a chance. I’m sorry. I can’t believe I was so caught up I didn’t even think about what you were feeling. The fact that you still wanted to introduce me to your friends, even after all the stuff I did to you….I’m so sorry, Issei.”

He gives you a playful smile and lightly nudges your shoulder with his, “yea, that was kinda unfair, but good thing we talked it out, huh?”

You flash him a sheepish smile, but your eyes glimmer with happiness, “yea, it’s good you barged into my room at two in the morning. Just like old times.”

His smile instantly grows at your playfulness, and he gives you a mock scoff. “I’m sorry, but if I remember correctly, you’d beg for me to stay over at two am cause you decided you wanted to watch a scary movie. Have you gotten better with horror movies this year, or are you still as jumpy as I remember?”

The tip of your ears growing warm while you mutter out a quick “shut up.”

His laughter makes your heart beat against your chest because you missed it so much. It’s been a while since you got to hear him laugh with you, and without even thinking, you go in for another hug.

His arms easily hold you close, and one of his massive hands reaches up to pet your hair. “Missed me, didn’t you?” he asks, and you can feel him smirking, so you just nod, your fingers playing with the damp, short curls at the base of his nape.

“Issei?” you ask with a little murmur against his neck.

“Hmmm?”

You smile to yourself and pull back a little, so you can see his face, “so other than hanging out with your friends and keeping up with my relationship, what else have you been doing?”

His face drops as he looks at you with a deadpan stare, the corners of his mouth twitching up in a smile as you giggle at his reaction. He pushes you back, so you end up falling onto your mattress, his long limbs effortlessly straddling your legs. Before you can think about the position you’re in, his fingers start to poke all-around your torso, causing you both to laugh as he starts to tickle you. “You think you’re funny, huh?” His hands go to tickle your worst spot as he starts to talk, but you can’t hear him over your own laughter. His fingers slow down, but you keep giggling when you’re met with his lazy smirk, “I’m trying to talk, you know. It’s rude you’re laughing when I’m trying to speak to you.”

He leans forwards and has both hands resting at the side of your head. Your faces now inches apart, the faint smell of sandalwood from his body wash now becoming more apparent. You stare into his brown eyes, and it almost feels as if everything stopped for a few seconds. The lamp in your room doesn’t do him justice as the shadows of his face wash over his features, but even then, his eyes stare back at you with a slight twinkle as you catch your breath.

Reaching up to wrap your arms around his neck and you tug him close, crashing his lips onto yours. The sweet hints from his beloved Burt’s bee’s lip balm make his lips even softer than you imagined. The kiss is short, but as you both pull away, he’s staring at you with a goofy smile.

“You don’t know how long I’ve wanted to do that, (y/n).”

“Me too, Issei,” you whisper back before his lips capture yours again, this time with more confidence. This kiss is much more passionate than the last, holding onto each other in hopes of deepening it. One of his hands travels down to grab your waist, his tongue sweeping across your bottom lip, asking for permission. Your lips part and your tongues swirl together effortlessly while your hands play with his hair, pulling him closer into your body.

His hand feels a little rougher than before against your bare skin because of how often he trains, running down the length of your leg. The light touch of his fingertips admires how smooth your skin is before they trail back up, stopping just before the edge of your pyjama shorts. Hooking your leg around his hip, he leans into your body even further and even nips at your bottom lip.

Matsukawa smirks and whispers against your lips, “did he ever kiss you like that?”

Slightly surprised at the question, you shake your head, answering honestly. “He never made me feel the way you do.”

You watch as his eyes dilate, flickering into a deep brown you’ve never seen on him. The hand that was previously on your leg is now cupping your cheek, stroking your face softly, while his own face blooms into a rare shade of pink. Still, his words are clear, “please...give me a chance? He never treated you right. Let me take care of you?”

Words can’t describe how his question made you feel. You spent years learning about Matsukawa, understanding him to the point where words weren’t necessary to see what was happening in his head. Not once did you think he reciprocated your feelings, let alone want to be with you. Yet, here you are, caged beneath his arms as his hopeful eyes pour into yours.

Turning your head slightly, you press a kiss onto his hand and smile. “Please?”

His face breaks into a smile. His cheeks are tinted rose as the corners of his mouth reach up to his eyes. Leaning down, he peppers kisses onto your face, the loose curls on his head tickling your cheeks as he giggles with you. The kisses trail down to your jaw, and he follows the natural curve of your jawline to your ear. “Is this okay?” he whispers softly, only continuing down this path when you give him a curt nod.

Your legs tighten around his waist when he begins to press open mouth kisses down your neck, gently nipping at the spots that make you let out shy little sounds. His tongue leaves kitten licks against your skin after he’s sucked on it, littering faint marks. Seeing you with light hickeys on the base of your neck and collarbones is completely self-indulgent for him. Thinking about waking up in the morning and seeing the marks he knows he gave you makes him inexplicably happy as he sucks particularly hard, causing you to wince.

Immediately he stops and turns to you, “I’m sorry, did I hurt you? D’you wanna stop?”

His concern for you is truly a breath of fresh air compared to what you had before. Shaking your head, you guide his hands to the edge of your sweater. “You bought this for me… it’s only fair I let you take it off.”

He studies your face for a second before his lips curl into a lazy smirk, quickly pulling the overpriced sweater off your body. He takes a sharp inhale when you reveal you aren’t wearing anything underneath as he’s met with your beautiful tits, nipples hard and pointed. “You let me in here knowing you weren’t wearing a bra? And here I thought you were a good girl.”

Noticing how your legs tighten around him, he smirks even wider. Leaning back down, his kisses trail down to your chest, and his lips feel soft and warm against your skin. His fingers take hold of your chin and force you to look down on him while his lips wrap around your nipple, the tip of his tongue flicking gently at the hardened bud. His hand palms against the fatty flesh of your other tit; his fingers are rolling your nipple before tugging on it experimentally.

Suddenly feeling shy, your arms come up to cover your face slightly just to have him lace his fingers with yours, pulling your arms away. “Don’t hide from me. Let me see how pretty you look. Let me hear how good I make you feel, okay?”

“I’ve never had someone play with my tits like this…”

He just stares at you, brows knitted as his smirk turns into a slight pout. “You’re with me now; that means every part of your body will be pleasured. I wanna hear and see all of you, okay?”

With a shy nod, you gently roll your hips against him, inviting more of his attention.

He kisses you once more, murmuring against your lips, “you’re so beautiful. Let me know if I’m going too fast, okay?”

His lips follow down your body once more, lightly biting your tit before using the flat part of his tongue to feel the valley between your chest. Matsukawa lets out a low moan as you arch upwards, pushing yourself closer to his touches. Letting go of your hands, he begins to massage the soft flesh of your tits and kiss down your stomach, the tip of his tongue trailing against the waistband of your shorts.

“Let me hear you ask for it; I don’t wanna do something you don’t want.”

“Isseiiii, please?” you whine out, the tip of your ears turning hot at the thought of asking for his tongue.

He smirks at you, looking up through his hooded eyes and tsks. “Be a good girl for me. Use your words.”

His words go straight to your pussy, and you can’t help the doe eyes look in your eyes when you whimper out, “please, Issei? Wanna feel your mouth on me.”

You watch as he takes in a sharp breath, the hunger in his eyes shining through despite the dim lighting in your room. He tugs at the end of your shorts until they’re completely off, repositioning himself lower until your legs are resting around his biceps. His eyes zone in on the way a sheer layer of slick coats your lips, happy that the attention he’s been giving you has pleased you. As he shimmies down on your bed, his legs now supporting himself on the floor, he nestles himself between your legs, easily spreading your things open with his arms. Sending you a knowing smile, he blows cool air directly onto your clit, loving how your walls flutter for him.

“You’re so sensitive, baby.”

“No one’s ever made me feel like this before...want more, please?”

You look down at him with pleading eyes, your hands cupping his face when you speak. Pressing a quick peck to your hand, he hips his head down and traces your pussy lips with his tongue, savouring how you taste.

The gasp that you let out once you felt his touch was adorable. It suddenly became the sound Matsukawa will chase after the more he gets to know your body and what it likes. He takes one long lap up your pussy, stopping just before your clit and using his fingers, he spreads your lips even more. Once your clit is all exposed, he flicks it gently with the tip of his tongue, looking up at you with all the confidence in the world. Hearing your little moans make him greedy for more, for more desperate and needy sounds, so he goes to press a kiss onto your bundle of nerves. Feeling you twitch beneath him, he gently places his lips around the sensitive bud and sucks earnestly, relishing in the way you buck your hips and call out his name. After a while of pure clitoral stimulation, he leans back up to watch your eyes blink back into focus on his face, a silly dazed smile on your face.

He winks at you and sticks his tongue into your drooling hole, swirling it around to feel the walls of your pussy clench around him. His fingers dig into the flesh of your thighs as he nuzzles his nose against your clit, his cock getting unbearably hard at the way you pant our pleas.

“I-issei! Please….need you inside, please!”

Coming back up for air, his hand leaves your thigh as his fingers start to tease around your hole, loving how your pussy clenches around nothing. So needy for his touches when he’s barely even started. He knows your orgasm was building, but he wants to take his time with you. You mean the world to him, and seeing you like this already makes him feel like the luckiest man at the moment.

Taking two of his fingers, he coats them in all your slick before slowly pushing them inside you. His eyes squeeze shut when he feels how tight you are, his mind immediately thinking about how you’d feel wrapped around his cock. When he’s finally inside, he pulls out slowly before sliding them back in, loving how you beg for more.

“Need more, please, Issei! Go faster, please.”

Your hands pull his head up to kiss you while his fingers begin to speed up. With the lewd sound of his hand slapping against your sopping wet pussy, his palm is applying pressure to your clit. Your moans are lost in your kisses, his other hand going back to playing with your sensitive nipple.

“I have to stretch you out, babygirl. I don’t want my cock to hurt you.”

All you’re able to do is nod as his fingers start to scissor your hole, stretching you out even more. His fingers, now knuckle deep, curl against your sweet spot, making you grip onto his hair as he swallows all your cries, suddenly remembering that the walls in this dorm probably aren’t that thick.

His fingers curl into you more, whispering sweet praises as his hand teases and tugs on your swollen nipple. Everything happened so quick, and you’re cumming all over his hand, your sweet sticky arousal covering his fingers as he slows down. Matsukawa is smiling down at you, “you did so well, baby. Bet that felt really good, huh?”

Maybe you’re needy or just horny, but even after your orgasm, you start tugging the tie that keeps his robe up. Your legs are sore, sorer than they’ve ever been, but all you can think about is how full you would feel with him inside of you. He smirks at you as he pops his fingers into his mouth, sucking off all your juices before letting his robe fall and chucking it to the ground. He’s wearing his briefs, but you can see how hard his cock is under the thin cotton material. Before you’re able to pull his underwear down, he stops you and lets out a small chuckle. “I’m sorry, I don’t have a condom. We don’t have to do anything.”

You giggle and shake your head, “don’t need one; we’re in university, baby. What’s a little fun without risks?”

He lets you pull his underwear down, and his massive throbbing cock instantly slaps against his stomach as he laughs at your reaction. “Had to make sure you were stretched out enough.”

You bite your lips and stare at how big his cock actually is. It’s hard to imagine how you’ll fit that inside of you, but you’re determined to give it a try.

“You ready, pretty girl?” he asks as he taps the tip of cock against your clit, loving how you squirm under him.

“mmhmm, Issei.”

He lets go of his cock and leans up, and pulls you into a deep kiss, completely in awe of you.

“Tell me if you wanna stop, kay?”

Replying with a small hum, he gathers up the remaining slick that’s leaking out of your pussy and strokes his cock slowly, also letting his spit drip down to help lubricate himself. He lines himself up with your pretty pussy and starts to push the head in, studying your face to make sure you’re doing alright. When he sees you smiling back at him, despite the grip you have on his arms, he pushes another two inches inside of you.

“You’re doing so good for me, baby. We’re almost halfway,” he whispers into your ear as he kisses your neck softly, sucking on the spot by the base of your lobe. “Such a good girl for me,” he coaxes as his cock slides another inch into your sweet cunt.

Incredibly, he’s only halfway down because you’ve never felt this full before. Still, your fingers dig into his arms when you ask for more. “Just want all of you in me, please?”

Hearing you ask for more even though you already looked fucked out sparks something inside him. He lets out a low growl and quickly pushes the rest of his length inside you, mumbling sweet nothings against your skin. He moans out with you when he feels how warm and tight you are, your pussy stretching more than it ever has to accommodate his size.

“Feel s’good, Issei.”

With a breathy chuckle, he peppers kisses all over your neck, loving the sound of your soft giggles as he pulls back three-quarters of the way, slowly pushing his way back into you. The gasp you let out is different than before, much more surprised but sensual.

He continues this motion a few more times before he picks up the pace, his hips slamming against you while your tits bounce. Each thrust knocks the air out of your chest cause he’s brushing against your spot every time. Matsukawa leans down and presses his forehead against the crook of your neck, muttering how good you feel.

“F-faster...need you faster, is’o good, please.”

Obliging to your pleas, he starts to rut his hips into yours, the sound of his balls slapping against your skin with each movement. He looks up to see your dreamy eyes and smiles. He knows there’s not a thought behind those eyes right now as his cock slams against your walls with each thrust. He goes to kiss you again, silencing your cries as your nails drag down his arms, trying to ground yourself in the midst of all the pleasure.

“You’re s-tight baby I- fuuuuuck, I can barely move.”

You can’t help it. Your walls are naturally squeezing him because he’s fucking straight into your sweet spot with each snap of his hips. You look at him with hazy eyes, entirely in a trance as you moan out his name. He can tell you want to cum, so his hand reaches down to rub your clit as his cock continues to pound into you.

“C’mon baby, cum all over my cock. You can do it...ah shit, yea, just like that.”

He’s been trying so hard not to cum but watching your back arch into him as your nails drab down his back, his name falling out from your lips in a loud erotic moan, is making it really hard. He looks down in surprise when he sees a creamy white rim around his cock, proud of himself for making you cream.

“Good girl...that’s my fuckin girl.”

Satisfied he made you finish, his head falls back onto your shoulder, his hips just rutting into you as he chases his own orgasm. Not even a minute later, he’s calling out for you as he quickly pulls out, cumming all over your tits. His chest heaves along with yours, his hair sticking to his forehead slightly as he empties his load all over your chest.

Once you’ve both calmed down a little bit, he smiles down at you and goes to stroke your cheek. “Had you creaming on my cock, was it fun? Did you have a good time?”

“S’good...thank you, baby,” you say before pulling him down for a kiss.

He gets up and reaches for his robe, “you did so good, took me like a champ heh. I’ll be back with a rag to clean you up, okay? Don’t move.”

As he leaves your room, you stare up at the ceiling and let out a laugh. Not even twelve hours ago, you were cursing the fact that he was here with you, and now you have his cum all over your tiddies as he goes to get stuff to clean you up.

You watch as he comes back into your room, fully changed with a rag in his hand. He kneels beside you and pets your hair as he starts to wipe his mess.

“Why’re you changed?”

“Oh! We’re going to 7-11 once I get you cleaned up.”

“.....it’s like three-thirty in the morning.”

“I’ll get you taquitos and Arizona,” he says as he goes to wipe around your pussy, mindful not to put too much pressure cause you’re still sensitive.

“And skittles?”

He snorts and kisses your shaking thigh, “yea, I’ll get you skittles, brat.”

© tetsunormous 2021

taglist: @plutowrites @armins-futon @arte-misa @strawbari21 @matsusimp @bokutomessy @mentaly-ill @arumiee @kvrooschibichan lmk if you want to be added to my tag list

[gatheringbones]

["I am anti-Semitic. I am not writing this from a position of moral exemption. My hands are not clean, because like other non-Jews in this society I have swallowed anti-Semitism simply by living here, whether I wanted to or not. At times I've said, fully believing it, that I was not taught anti-Semitism at home growing up in Cleveland in the 1950's. In comparison to the rabid anti-Semitism as well as racism that many white people convey to their children as matter-of-factly as they teach them the alphabet and how to tie their shoes, my perception of what was going on in my house is accurate. But only relatively.

On rare occasions things were said about Jews by members of my family, just as comments were made about white people in general, and about Cleveland's numerous European immigrant groups in particular. My family had "emigrated" too from the rural South during the 1920's, 30's, and 40's and their major observation about Jewish and other white people was that they could come to this country with nothing and in a relatively short period "make it." Our people, on the other hand, had been here for centuries and continued to occupy a permanent position on society's bottom. When I was growing up there were Jewish people living in Shaker Heights, one of the richest suburbs in the U.S., where Blacks were not allowed to purchase property even if they had the money, which most, of course, did not. The fact that Jews were completely barred from other suburbs and perhaps restricted to certain sections of Shaker Heights was not of great import to us. I remember vividly when my aunt and uncle (my mother's sister and brother) were each trying to buy houses in the 1950's. They searched for months on end because so many neighborhoods in the inner city including working-class ones were also racially segregated. I was six or seven, but I remember their exhausted night-time conversations about the problem of where they might be able to move. I felt their anger, frustration, and shame that they could not provide for their families on such a basic level. The problem was white people, segregation, and racism. Some Jews were, of course, a part of that, but I don't remember them being especially singled out. I did not hear anti-Semitic epithets or a litany of stereotypes. I do remember my uncle saying more than once that when they didn't let "the Jew" in somewhere, he went and built his own. His words were edged with both envy and admiration. I got the message that these people knew how to take care of themselves, that we could learn a lesson from them and stop begging the white man for acceptance or even legal integration.

Despite how I was raised, what I've come to realize is that even if I didn't learn anti-Semitism at home, I learned it. I knew all the stereotypes and ugly words not just for Jews, but for every outcast group, including my own. Such knowledge goes with the territory. Classism, racism, homophobia, anti-Semitism, and sexism float in the air, are embedded in the very soil. No matter how cool things are at home, you catch them simply by walking out of the house and turning on the t.v. or opening up a newspaper inside the house. In the introduction to Home Girls, I wrote about the unsettling relationship to how I sometimes view other women of color:

Like many other Black women, I know very little about the lives of other Third World women. I want to know more and I also want to put myself into situations where I have to learn. It isn't easy because, for one thing, I keep discovering how deep my own prejudice goes. I feel so very American when I realize that simply by being Black I have not escaped the typical American ways of perceiving people who are different from myself.

I never believe white people when they tell me they aren't racist. I have no reason to. Depending on the person's actions I might possibly believe that they are actively engaged in opposing racism, are anti-racist, at the very same time they continue to be racially ignorant and cannot help but be influenced as white people by this system's hatred of people of color. Unwittingly, anti-racist whites may collude at times in the very system they are trying to fight. In her article, "Racism and Writing: Some Implications for White Lesbian Critics," Elly Bulkin incisively makes the distinction between the reality of being actively anti-racist and the illusion of being non-racist— that is, totally innocent. She applies to racism, as I do here to anti-Semitism, the understanding that it is neither possible nor necessary to be morally exempt in order to stand in opposition to oppression. I stress this point because I want everybody reading this, and particularly Black women, to know that I am not writing from the position of having solved anything and because I have also heard other Black women, white non-Jewish women, and at times myself say, "But I'm not anti-Semitic." This kind of denial effectively stops discussion, places the burden of "proof" upon the person(s) experiencing the oppression, and makes it nearly impossible ever to get to the stage of saying: "This is an intolerable situation. What are we going to do about it?"]

Barbara Smith, Yours In Struggle: Three Feminist Perspectives On Anti-Semitism and Racism, Firebrand Books, 1984

[the-insomniac-emporium]

Crimson Ties (Bela Dimitrescu/Reader, Soulmate AU) Pt. 1

Fandom: Resident Evil: Village Rating: T for language and mild medical drama Warnings: Brief depictions of medical treatments for blood loss and its symptoms Genre: Hurt + comfort Summary: Bela has always wondered who her soulmate was, the person she was connected to by red string. When she finally meets them, she's devastated to find them hanging in her basement, being drained of blood. But her soulmate won't die- not if she can do something about it. Notes: Soulmate AU in which people have a red thread tied to their left ring finger (or elsewhere if missing the finger/hand), which connects to their soulmate. By default the string is taut/tight, only getting loose when the pair is relatively close to each other.

1: Stem The Flow

How long had she waited for this day? How long had Bela monitored the red string tied to her hand, waiting for it to be anything other than taut? A decade, at the least, if not two or more. For so long she had dreamt of her soulmate, albeit discreetly, wondering about every facet of their being. Entire days had been spent imagining them, and how they would come into her life. Sometimes, on those days, she would gently tug her end of the thread. Every single time, without fail, her soulmate had returned the motion. It warmed her heart more than she’d ever admit, to know that her excitement was not one-sided.

At times, it did worry her, the feelings in her chest reminding her of her youngest sister. Daniela was obsessed with love, dangerously so, to the point of being downright delusional. More than once her “affections” had gotten their family into some sort of trouble. No matter how mature Bela considered herself to be, there was a part of her that worried about repeating her sister’s mistakes. What if her excitement about her partner led her to overlook something crucial? What if the person in question posed a threat to her family? How easy would it be, then, for her to cut them off?...

Today, perhaps, she would find out.

The sun had set over the Romanian landscape, and with the moon rose the Dimitrescu household. First out of bed, as always, Bela wasted no time in getting dressed. Hazy visions of her fading dreams clouded her mind, tugging on her thoughts as always. Most days they felt more like memories than anything else. Today, they are quieter than usual, easily fading into the background. When the last traces of her grogginess disperse, Bela finds herself glancing at her left hand. It’s a daily habit, although discreet, that always leaves her with bittersweet feelings.

“Wait…” Bela whispered, as her eyes took in the unexpected sight: The red string of fate, tied to her left ring finger, loose as can be. It trails to the ground, coiled a single time, before heading underneath her door. “Am I dreaming?” She does not bother to pinch herself to check. Instead she practically jumps into her shoes, dashing out of her room with unfamiliar glee. Maidens in the hallways have to leap aside to avoid her, but she does not care, for once ignoring the standards her mother had instilled in her. If her sisters could be chaotic, we couldn’t she?

So she follows the thread, eagerly, without even wondering why it was so loose. No, she didn’t think about the implications of the situation. In her mind, it did not matter why her soulmate was finally within her reach, it simply mattered that they were. Soon enough they would be in her arms, safe, with nothing else to bother them. And then she’d be happy, finally having someone she was on equal terms with. Finally having someone to confide in, to cherish, to whisper sweet nothings to in the dead of the night.

She doesn’t hesitate until she finds the string wrapped around the door to the basement. At last the signs click together in her mind, like a conspiracy board bound with crimson ties. Instantly panic replaces whatever excitement she had been feeling. Then she’s abandoning all sense of caution, throwing open the door and rushing forward, dispersing into a swarm to cover more ground. Even if she could no longer see the thread in this form, she was certain that she’d know exactly who her soulmate was when she saw them.

And, well, she does. Something calls her to the far corner of the main room, where a body was suspended from the ceiling by its hands. An all-too-familiar needle was sticking out of the person’s arm, leading down to a large glass container, which was slowly filling with blood. The scent made Bela’s nostrils flare, and her eyes go wide, but she did her best to fight against her instincts. Quickly she gets to her knees, examining the jar to see how full it was. Most of the measurement lines were faded, having been worn out over time, making it harder to estimate the volume. In the end, Bela guessed that the container could fit just over six liters inside. Which meant that the person had lost close to… two and a half. That was bad- behind bad, really. Horrible, actually. Immediately life threatening to the point of having been life threatening before Bela had even woken up.

“Don’t die on me, please,” she half cried half shouted, jumping into action as best as she knew how. Not even bothering to turn the nozzle on the device, she pulls the needle out of her soulmate’s arm, cursing when more blood rushes out of the hole. Then she’s applying pressure, hard as she can, beyond glad that they weren’t awake for this. One hand goes to tear a piece of fabric off of their shirt. Hopefully they wouldn’t mind, all things considered. Next, Bela ties the cloth around the collection point, making less of a tourniquet and more of a generic bandage. “Shit, you need a transfusion, don’t you?... Fuck, fuck, what’s your blood type?”

Knowing that she wouldn’t be getting a verbal answer any time soon, Bela settled for dipping a finger into the jar, bringing it to her lips, and licking. The difference in taste among blood types was subtle, but she was nothing if not a professional at this point. Still, the type is not immediately clear to her, and she knows that she might have to go around licking more blood from other prisoners. Unless… could someone receive a transfusion of their own blood? Such a thing had never happened at the castle before, but there was a first time for everything.

“Hold on, I’ll figure this out, somehow, I promise,” Bela said, gently taking her patient’s hand in her own. Taking your hand.

When you wake, you find yourself among the softest sheets you have ever felt, as if laying on clouds themselves. But your vision is blurred, and your head is besieged by waves of pain. A whimper makes its way past your lips. For a moment all you can do is tense up, unsure of any detail of your situation, unable to discern anything around you. Then you feel a hand on your own, squeezing gently. Something about it sends a rush of comfort throughout your entire body. Still, you are more confused than anything, and you find yourself trying to sit up out of instinct.

Without warning the hand lets you go, only for the owner to shift their weight, climbing on top of you in an instant. They’re holding you down, saying words that don’t quite reach your ears. For how light they are, they manage to put an impressive amount of pressure on you, easily rendering you immobile. Unfortunately, this position does little to ease your anxiety. The last thing you could remember was a very, very tall lady sticking a needle in your arm with a cruel laugh. Based on how you felt, there was still a needle in your arm. But you had been standing, or hanging, before, and now you were on your back.

“Whathe… wha the ‘ell… can’t 'hink,” you muttered, stumbling over your own tongue. Whoever sits on top of you tries to comfort you, running a hand through your hair. “Who are you?” You asked, even though you couldn’t understand a word this person said. Their voice might as well have been in another language, with the way your addled brain processed it. Had you lost too much blood? Or maybe you had a concussion? “I just. I just wanted to meet them. Please, I jus… I just wanna see my soulmate.”

Again, you cannot understand what the person says in response, but they finally seem to understand this. One of their hands reaches out and grabs your left one, slowly tapping your fingers, one by one. When they reach your ring finger, they pause, gently holding it. For a few moments you’re left even more confused. Then, with a surge of warmth in your chest, the dots are connected. Whoever is with you quietly grabs the thread attached to your finger, before tugging gently. In order for them to do that… well, there was only one explanation. They were your soulmate. They were the one you had gone to this accursed castle to meet. Somehow they had saved you, and everything was finally looking up.

Mind clearing slowly, you’re finally able to understand something they- or she, as far as you can tell- say.

“Rest now, my beloved. You are safe in my care, this I promise.”

[velvetcloxds]

LEAVE ME BREATHLESS| D.H.

Pairing: Derek x fem! Reader

Word count: 2135 words

Warnings: none, just fluff

Summary: Reader attends her senior prom with her friends, however she can't really enjoy it as her boyfriend Derek is in Mexico searching for Kate, luckily though, Derek is full of surprises.

“Why aren’t you dressed?” Stiles asks in a rush as he comes into my room. His eyes scan the bed quickly as he sees my dress and shoes scattered onto the duvet. “We had to leave half an hour ago.” He informs me and he ignores the obvious frown on my face as he walks over to the bed to pick up the dress. I groan loudly as I wipe the rest of my makeup off, ignoring his dramatic gestures behind me.

“I’m not going, Stiles.” I tell him and he makes no trouble to hide his shock, his mouth opening to protests as he steps towards me, throwing the dress over his shoulder as he touches the back of my chair.

“I don’t understand that sentence,” He announces and spins my chair in the same breath. “I refuse to understand that sentence, considering the fact that you’re the one forcing us to go,” He pauses to drape the dress over my knees and smiles encouragingly. “Now, enough of the dramatics, get dressed.” I sigh.

“Stiles.” I groan and he ignores this, pulling me from the chair and softly pushing me into the bathroom with a stumble.

“Dress and shoes, I’ll wait out here.” He tells me and I contemplate objecting for a sweet second, but cave instead.

He’s right for pushing me to get dressed, because I did in fact force everyone to go tonight. Prom in the middle of a crises seems out of order, but it’s the last time we’ll all be here together and it’s important to make memories, even if only for one night. Besides, it's Beacon Hills, there is never not a crises at hand. Although I hadn’t realized until now that I’d be going stag among all of my couple friends. And I certainly didn’t realize that the one person I want to be here isn’t.

“There she is!” Stiles exclaims with a large smile as I emerge from the bathroom. “Shoes,” He says as he holds them out for me. I take them, lifting the layers of my dress high enough to slip the heels on and out of the corner of my eyes I can see him stuffing multiple makeup products into his blazer pocket. He smiles when he sees me. “Lydia will help you in the car.” He informs me and I have just enough time to grab my clutch and some perfume before he starts pushing me out of the room and towards the jeep.

“You look amazing.” Lydia tells me as we reach the jeep. I smile, pushing a curl behind my ear as Stiles opens the back door for us to get in.

“Yeah, you’re both gorgeous. Now get in,” He rushes and Lydia rolls her eyes before jumping in, with me following suit. “Makeup.” Stiles says as he hands us his blazer over the seat, starting the car in the same movement. I smile over at Lydia as she removes everything from the pockets, looking over at Stiles through the mirror every few seconds where his eyes already wait for hers.

It doesn’t take long for her to get going. Applying everything in the correct steps, stopping briefly when Stiles gives her the bump warning. I sit still through the process, my mind slipping away from reality as I let her do her job.

“Glossy or Nude?” Lydia asks and I realize we’ve stilled in front of the school. She holds up two lip-gloss tubes for me to choose from and I reach forward to take the glossy one, knowing it’ll be much less of a hassle to reapply. “Good choice, we’ll wait outside.” She tells me, squeezing my hand before getting out of the open door that Stiles holds on to.

“Hey man!” A new voice yells from across the parking lot and I peak out of the window to see Scott and Malia walking hand in hand towards the jeep. I smile to myself and then use my phone as a mirror to quickly put of the gloss.

“Where’s Y/n?” Malia asks just as I get out of the jeep and her face lights up when she sees we’re both wearing black.

“You look very pretty.” Scott tells me as he leans in for a quick hug and I smile before following the four of them into the school.

I swing my clutch over my shoulder and allow my fingers to tangle into the little charm on my necklace, my heart swooning over to the hands that clipped it on for me a few months ago.

The gym hums with excitement as everyone moves in somewhat of a rhythm to the song that the band is playing. The decorative balloons begging to be released from their strings to the ceiling. A large collection of different coloured lights flickering on beat against the walls.

“We’re going to dance!” Malia yells over the noise, harshly grabbing onto Scott’s hand and pulling him towards the dancefloor. Scott just smiles as he allows her to lead him away.

“Do you girls want something to drink?” Stiles asks already backing up towards the snack table and Lydia just smiles as she shakes her head to tell him no. He looks at me and I mimic Lydia’s gesture which causes him to nod quickly before walking off.

I look over at Malia and Scott who are both waving us over to join them. Lydia smiles. “You coming?” She asks leaning in. I look from her to the dancefloor and I really don’t feel like jumping around and shuffling against other people right now.

“I’m going to the ladies’ room really quick and then I’ll join you.” I tell her, leaning into her as well so she can hear me. She looks me over for a second, probably checking to see if I’m okay and then nods before walking away. I wait for her to reach them before turning around and walking to the door we just came in through. I just got here and already I feel like I need some air. I bend down to take of my heels and hold them in my hand as I walk over to the school sign, pushing myself up and placing my purse and heels next to me.

Senior prom. It’s one of those milestone nights, one to remember forever. Physically I’m ready, but my mind is far away from the glitter and the punch. My mind is with Derek Hale and so is my heart.

I reach into my purse and pull out my phone, unlocking it quickly to dial the number of the motel he’s staying at in Mexico. It rings a few times before a loud beep tells me that he’s not in his room. I sigh before adjusting myself on the wall and bringing the phone closer to my ear.

“Hi,” I say almost too softly, I pull my knees to my chest, the dress draping around me. “I missed you again. We can’t seem to get this scheduling thing right. I just wanted to hear your voice, I guess,” I smile as I look up at the stars. “I’m at our spot right now, thinking of you in a suit and a tie. You look handsome by the way,” I close my eyes to picture it, but shake my head when the image starts to drift. “Anyway. Call me back when you can. I miss you.” I put the phone down next to me as I continue to look at the starts, swallowing down the tears in my throat.

“Now, you know damn well that I don’t wear ties.”

“Derek?” I question softly, my voice shaking with excitement at the very idea of that voice in fact belonging to my goofball. He laughs lightly and now I don’t even have to think about it to know that it’s him.

I turn myself around quickly, meeting his gaze for a brief second before losing my balance and slipping from the little wall. His laughter continues as he moves to catch me, getting hold of my hand just in time to stop my untimely collide with the concrete. He pulls me against him to steady me and despite the countless times we’ve done this, I still need to catch my breath. My cheeks burn as I feel his eyes moving over my body taking his bloody time to look at every single feature.

“Beautiful.” Is all he says as our eyes meet and my lips tilt upwards as a natural reaction to his presence. I move my hands from his and carefully reach upwards to touch his face, hovering for barely a second before softly cupping his cheeks. My smile grows.

“What are you doing here?” I ask, his hands folding around my waist to keep me close.

“I missed you,,” He informs me, like it’s just that simple. “Stiles called.” He continues and I can’t decide where to rest my eyes as he speaks. “He said you weren’t acting like yourself this week and it didn’t take a genius to figure out why,” His thumbs trace the stitching of my dress. “And I wasn’t exactly doing any better on my end, so here I am.”

“I was losing my mind without you here,,” I tell him, my heart beating in my throat as he smiles down at me. He tilts his head to look at me even closer and I almost instantly look down. “When do you have to go back?” I ask after a moment of silence and I feel his body tense against mine, letting me know that it’s a lot sooner than I’d want. He sighs, his hands tugging me closer.

“Let’s not think about that,” I look up to see him grinning brightly, his eyes almost sparkling as he stares at me. “We have tonight. I can hold you in my arms and hear your voice,,” He kisses my nose, the suddenness of the gesture making me giggle. “I get to hear that intoxicating little sound,” He exhales slowly. “We have tonight.” He tells me softly and his voice drifts as he leans in, I jump away from him quickly, mischief on my mind as I back away from him.

“Would you like to dance?” I ask him and he groans loudly, eyes telling me exactly what he was about to do. I laugh softly.

“Not exactly.” He pulls a hand through his hair and a glimmer of frustration rests in his raised brow.

“Come now, it’s my prom night after all,” I take hold of both his hands. “Are they playing a slow song or a fast song?” I ask him and he shakes his head at me before closing his eyes to listen.

“Slow…” He says and I smile, part of me being glad that I don’t have to stop being so close to him after all.

“Is that so?” I muse, the tone of my voice prompting him to open his eyes and without missing a beat he pulls on my hands until I’m once again held firmly in his embrace. I giggle again, something I realize only happens so naturally when I’m with him. Our hands shift into place and I tangle my fingers together behind his neck. His arms dangling loosely as his fingers fold around my sides.

“I might just enjoy this after all,” He informs me with a silly little smirk as he guides us to a rhythm only he can hear. We sway in silence for a while, my face against his chest and his chin on my head. “I don’t know how I went on so long without you,” He says suddenly, lifting his head so I can look at him. “It’ll be downright impossible to do it now.” He tells me, bringing out bodies to a halt as he lifts a hand to my face, his fingers stroking over my cheeks slowly. I close my eyes as the sensation captivates my senses.

“I know what you mean.” I say softly, sliding my hands down his blazer where I rest my fingers against his chest.

“I love you,” He tells me and I open my eyes. He uses his thumb to lift my face, a smile filling his lips when he looks at me. “Say it back , won’t you?” He asks playfully and I smile as well, my heart swelling with pride.

“I love you, too.” I tell him and he laughs.

“Again.” He tells me, looking over me as he waits for me to say it.

“I love you too.” He laughs again, softer this time. Happier.

“Yeah…” He kisses me quickly, not nearly long enough to make up for the time we’ve been apart, but the way he looks at me leaves me breathless. He rests his forehead against mine. “I’ll never be able to leave you again.”

Hi there, more of my imagines can be found on Wattpad under @mjoubertt. Mxx.

[keysmashingfantasies]

An Old Fashioned Meet Cute

A/N: hi! this is my first fic here and i hope you like it. comments and constructive criticism is very much appreciated just please be nice and i tried not to describe nor reader nor the Hilda character too much apart from the fact that they are plus size so it can cater to more people (altough the Hilda character is a white woman originally, I left that out because I wanted everyone to be able to read it) :D. and a huge thank you to @divine-mistake for encouraging me to make this blog and post my fics. ily Tay <3, this one's for you.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x fem!plus size Reader

Word count: 2.1k

Summary: Bucky didn’t remember much of his life before the war. Not as much as he would like, anyway. But he was content to at least have remembered something. The memories of his teenage shenanigans with Steve always made him laugh. But there was a memory that he didn’t even know it was on his mind until that day when he accompanied Steve to the thrift shop. And until an Avengers party, where he met you.

-

“Steve, come on… Shouldn’t you be showing me the wonders of the modern world?”, he mocked. He knew Steve was doing his best, he did. But he knew that this wasn’t just a friends’ afternoon. And Bucky didn’t need a babysitter.

“I will! I just thought it would be nice to see something less overwhelming first and Sam told me a thrift store would be a nice place to start. Most of this stuff is new to us anyway”, Steve said, picking up a CD of a shelf.

“Yeah, ok”, he mumbled. The things he did for Steve. He mindlessly wandered through the little cluttered store, browsing the shelves full of knick knacks. He saw vinyls, old books, a great variety of toys, some paintings and an old fashioned vanity, with an old mirror, a few vintage perfume bottles, and… Oh.

“Steve?”, he said, picking up the old calendar that was propped up against the stained mirror. Carefully, he lifted the calendar up, looking at his friend. He had seen it before, he knew he did. He flipped through it as he waited for Steve to make his way across the store, careful to not bump in any of the tables containing delicate porcelain tea pots. His eyes scanned through the cover, a delicately painted picture of a curvy woman and with the saying “HILDA, 1940’s calendar” in bold red letters above it.

“Oh wow”, Steve let out a belly laugh. “You remember when we stole some of these? Man, we even took these to war”, he said. He started to remember. Him and Steve running, each one with a calendar in hand, flipping through the pages, Steve whining that he would never find a girl like that. He didn’t even think twice before taking it to the counter, with Steve giggling like a school girl behind him.

“For the memories, punk”, he said in a stern voice and a frown, but with pink dusted cheeks.

“Of course”, Steve said in a mocking voice.

-

“So, Tony’s throwing a party next weekend”, Steve said as he entered the training room.

“I prefer the thrift store”, Bucky mumbled, without tearing his eyes from the punching bag.

“Come on, Buck. I think it will be good for you to go”, Steve said. “It will be something small, Tony will introduce the new team assistant, so no eyes will be on you”, that got Bucky’s attention.

“Small?”, he said, pushing his hair from his face.

“Very”, Steve assured, but he had that look that Bucky knew very well from his young years; the look he would get when he was about to pick a fight. He was up to no good. But he didn’t want another trip to a dusty thrift store.

“Yeah, sure”, he mumbled.

-

You were shaking in your boots. Yeah, you knew that you would work for them, which meant that you inevitably would have to attend this kind of things. But this wasn’t like your former office jobs, no. You work for the Avengers now.

“You can do this. You have to. Do it for the paycheck”, you said, trying to reassure yourself as you shakily applied mascara. As you browsed through your wardrobe, you let out a sigh. You remembered shyly asking for advice on what to wear from Natasha, but you took it with a grain of salt. She could wear a potato sack and still look gorgeous, and you were… Well, a potato. You knew this was another test. If you couldn’t handle all eyes on you and the eventual bickering that was about to happen, you were not fit for the job. But damn, you at least expected a few weeks of taking care of documents and serving coffee before a party. In a room. With the, quoting the tabloid you read that very morning “super team that saves the world and looks hot doing it!”. You were a pretty confident person. But this… Anyone would be nervous.

“You can do this”, you told yourself one more time before heading out.

-

When you got to the party, not everyone was there. You politely greeted everyone with a nod, and gave your name to the ones you didn’t have the pleasure to meet yet.

“You, pick your poison”, Tony Stark pointed at you while walking to the bar.

“No, thank you, Mr. Stark, I won’t be drinking tonight”, you managed to say, silently thanking all the gods above (even the one that was sitting not too far from you) that you managed to hold back the quiver in your voice.

“She doesn’t want to be vulnerable around us. Smart, I like her”, said Natasha. Sometimes you wonder if she was a telepath like Wanda.

“Is there anything wrong, Y/N? I sense that you are uneasy”, asked Vision, with those glassy unblinking eyes. You wondered if he was in your mind that very moment.

“Gee, I wonder why”, said Rhodes, before taking a sip of his drink.

“I’m okay, just… A bit nervous, that’s all”, you said.

“Well, then you definitely need a drink”, said Tony, handing you a glass of champagne that no doubt cost the same as your previous paycheck.

Soon enough, the awkwardness made way to pleasant conversation. You laughed as you listened to their banter. It wasn’t like any business party you ever attended. No, it was more like a family gathering than anything.

The sounds of the elevator doors opening caught you attention as three men wide as refrigerators walked in, followed closely by a pretty young woman. Of course you knew them. You read all about them. Especially The Winter Soldier, the little devil on your shoulder taunting you by remembering you of every single time you talked to your friend about your crush on him.

“Sorry we’re late guys, Steve went to pick me up before the party and we had dinner”, said the blonde, linking her arm with Steve Rogers himself.

“Nah, Sharon, don’t cover his ass. We were late because the three of us had to wrestle Barnes into changing out of that old ass Henley”, said Sam.

Instantly, Tony and Natasha cheered and raised their glasses, making you laugh.

“Yeah, yeah, very funny”, said a gruff voice coming from the bar, making you turn your head, seeing Bucky Barnes open a beer bottle with his vibranium hand. 'How did he sneak past everyone?', your thoughts were interrupted as you took him in. You wanted to personally thank Sam, Steve and Sharon for making him wear that tight fitting black shirt.

“Well, Y/N, here’s Capsicle, Mrs. Capsicle, New Captain, and Snowflake. Guys, this is Y/N, the new assistant. Oh, and there’s Spider Boy but he’s on curfew, Strange had to hop out of the dimension and Scott but he’s… He’s somewhere out there being small, I don’t know. Watch were you step, just to be safe”, said Tony

“Hi”, you gave a shy wave, being greeted right back.

-

If it wasn’t for the serum, Bucky is absolutely sure he would have a heart attack on the spot. You were wearing red heels, a form fitting black pencil skirt and a white button up blouse and he could see your curves, your strong arms, your thighs. You looked absolutely amazing. You look like one of the girls that Bucky would’ve rushed to ask for a dance back in the day. But what really made him stare is the fact that your body type looked eerily similar to the character of the calendar he spent an embarrassing amount of time staring.

As your eyes scanned the room as you were bombarded with questions, Bucky made sure to avoid your gaze, looking everywhere but your face: his shoes, the ceiling, the armrest on the couch, Steve’s shit eating grin. Oh. So THAT’S what it was about. Little shit.

Even avoiding your gaze, he made sure to keep his ears open. A man could be interested, right?

.

By the time the party ended, Thor and Bruce were sleeping, Tony was buzzed walking around singing Iron Maiden, Natasha and Sharon were talking, Steve and Sam were giggling like two school girls, Rhodes went home and Vision and Wanda were talking and looking out the window to the New York skyline.

Which left you – and Bucky – alone.

“Uhhh. I guess I’ll start cleaning, then”, you said. Your face was on fire. The only person that you were sure didn’t like you and you were awkwardly standing, not knowing where to look and what to say. It didn’t help that you were attracted to him but damn it, you were not going to lose this opportunity because of a school girl crush. So you decided to keep yourself occupied by taking some empty glasses and bottles from the table and taking them to the kitchen.

“Oh, come on, Y/N! Let the cleaning crew deal with this in the morning!”, said Natasha.

“No, no, I don’t mind. I like to keep myself busy”, you said with a smile. Technically, it wasn’t a lie. You only hoped she couldn’t see how awkward you were.

“I’ll help”, he said, picking up some glasses and following you.

“You can pick up more of these glasses and I can start washing them”, he said. “I- I noticed you got your nails done, so…”, he said, and you shyly looked away while thanking him and making your way out of the kitchen.

.

In no time, the room was getting emptier. Vision and Wanda went home and Thor took Banner back to New Asgard. And you were almost done with the dishes, having also gotten rid of most of the empty food containers. As you both cleaned, you and Bucky got a bit more comfortable with each other.

“I’m sorry for seeming a bit standoffish earlier”, he said suddenly. “I’m not used to parties and I don’t know how new people will react to me. Especially pretty women”, you smiled at the compliment, but felt your heart ache. You were so caught up in your insecurities that you didn’t even consider his side of things.

“You don’t have to be sorry. I don’t know how you feel but by what I’ve seen and heard, you have a family here. You’re out there fighting to save the world. Trying your best. This is redemption enough, don’t you think?”, you said as you put the glasses to dry, missing the awestruck look that Bucky sent you, a goofy smile making its way into his features. “Okay, you wait here and I’ll get what’s left”.

You were back in no time. “Okay, so just more two champagne flutes and one plate left”, you said but before you could give the dishes to Bucky, you slipped, and if it wasn’t for Bucky’s reflexes, you would’ve fallen hard. You yelped as the sound of breaking glass hit your ears and for a second you two just stared at each other, before Bucky pulled you closer and back to a standing position.

“Thanks”, you said as he helped you straighten up.

“Your ankle, does it hurt?”, he said.

“Uh, no, I don’t think so”, you said.

“Ah, I think it does. And I can’t let a dame go home alone on a hurt ankle”, he said, giving you a dashing smile.

“You know what, now that you’ve said it, it hurts really bad”, you said, catching on. “You know what’s amazing for a bad ankle?”, you asked, and the gentle smile in your lips and the mischievous glint in your eyes made his heart piston inside of his chest.

"What?", he said softly, stepping closer, like you were sharing secrets.

“Ice cream and a walk on the park. Very therapeutical”, you said, making Bucky laugh.

.

Before you knew it, Bucky had already scooped you up into his arms and rushedly announced that you had slipped and fell, whisking you away into the elevator.

“Dude, that took all night”, said Sam. “This is the smooth guy you told me about?”, he said, while Steve and Sharon laughed.

While everyone got ready to go home, Scott came out of the kitchen in his Ant-Man suit eating some leftovers.

“Someone owes me 20 bucks for making her trip”.

[theparanormalperiodical]

What The Hell Is Satanism? The Backstory, The Beliefs, And The A-To-Z On Devil Worshippers

4 days ago, Nike decided to sue a small indie art collective based in New York.

This isn’t news. This isn’t the first time a profit-mongering fashion-giant has targeted businesses trying to make a name for themselves. And it won’t be the last.

But this time, there’s probably something else influencing the executives reclining on their plush leather seats: they said it was because MSCHF stamped on the Nike Swoosh. But we all know what the real problem was:

These kicks were soaked with Satanic imagery - oh, and a single drop of human blood.

"MSCHF and its unauthorised Satan Shoes are likely to cause confusion and dilution and create an erroneous association between MSCHF's products and Nike”

Translation: no, we don’t want to be associated with devil worshippers.

Satan and his followers have once again hit the press following Lil Nas X’s latest viral YouTube hit and release of his custom footwear. And he does the belief system - and the LGBTQA+ community - justice.

But Satanism goes much deeper than pole dancing your way to hell.

It goes deeper than the fears of your evangelical aunt, it goes deeper than the rumours of a sacrificial ritual that happened in the woods outside of town, and it goes deeper than QAnon conspiracy theories.

Today we explore what Satanism really is. And what it really isn’t.

*twerks towards hell*

What Is Satanism?

Satanism is a group of modern religions that are centred around Satan, an entity in Abrahamic religions (e.g. Christianity and Judaism) that rebelled against God, has power over Hell and demons, and seduces humans into sin. Satan features in a vast number of major religions: he started off in Zoroastrianism, then making his way to Judaism, Islam, and Christianity. But the modern followers of Satanism are inspired by the Christian fallen angel and ruler of hell.

A large proportion of Satanists follow atheistic Satanism - they don’t necessarily believe in an entity but follow a philosophy that focuses on individualism and satisfying the ego, or rebel specifically against the dominance of Christianity in Western society.

Although Satan is typically considered the embodiment of evil, most strands of Satanism are not. However, there are some groups that fit this mould like the Order of the Nine Angles: they’re neo-Nazis.

The actual worship of Satanism only began just over 50 years ago, in 1966. But the use of the term ‘Satanist’ stretches back centuries further. Calling someone a ‘Satanist’ (or something to that effect) was an insult reserved for those that disagreed with a Christian group’s beliefs.

A Not-very-brief-but-look-I-tried-ok History Of Satanism

Here’s the thing about Satanism: at one point in history, every religious group was deemed Satanist. 

You see, that’s how it all started.

Even the term ‘Satan’ originally meant ‘adversary’. It didn’t necessarily refer to a horned, evil ex-angel once scorned by the Almighty. It meant ‘other’; it was just an insult. It wasn’t created by groups of men draped in blood red robes preparing to slaughter a virgin to their ungodly master - Satanism was actually created by Christians.

The word ‘Satanism’ was first recorded in French and English literature back in the 16th century. Against the backdrop of the Reformation (when the Western Christian Church split off into Protestantism, Catholicism, and other more niche shards) rival religious groups would label each other with such terms frequently in various tracts and texts.

It was not to say that Protestants, for example, were actively worshipping Satan but were instead deviating from what Catholics thought was true Christianity. By ‘incorrectly’ serving God, they were supporting Satan’s claim to ruin the world with sin and evil.

*Disney villain laugh*

In the 19th century it broadened to encompass anyone that lived an immoral lifestyle and was thus serving Satan’s will. But in this same century it evolved yet again.

Yep, it’s time to introduce the actual Satanists: texts began to emerge that mention people that revered and worshipped Satan. It took a long 300 years for Satanists to reclaim their title. But the story doesn’t end here: this is a really important theme that runs like blood through the history of Satanism. Or, rather, the history of religious prejudice and persecution.

Throughout, well, all of human history, we have been swept up unto the belief that there is a dark, evil force lurking within our communities. The most recent example claims Joe Biden and his Democrat friends are Satan-worshipping baby-eating America-hating pedophiles. The fears of a discrete force that can hide at will fits the descriptors of the Judeo-Christian devil. And so, it had been applied to persecuted groups for centuries.

The Witch Trials and the Spanish Inquisition are the most famous examples of this. Satanism evolved in the Medieval era to scapegoat certain groups or to reinforce social norms by emphasising the apparently very real fight between good and evil.

Narratives of the French Revolution at the time were contorted with rumours of revolutionaries being part of a secret Satanic conspiracy. This revolution struck a blow to the power of the Catholic church, and some fingers pointed towards the dark lord of hell himself. Some even believed these revolutionaries had amassed supernatural powers to curse people and shape-shift into various creature ‘n’ critters like cats or fleas!

In the 20th century, another historical shift took place. And this time it (supposedly) happened from within the secret societies themselves: non-fiction authors and tabloids began to recount the allegations of people who once claimed to have been part of Satanic groups before converting to Christianity.

Doreen Irvine claimed she was given the ability to levitate amongst other witchy-powers. But Irvine’s claims sent shockwaves across the pond in the US. Much more horrific allegations were about to take centre stage. In the 1980s this would reach its climax with the Satanic Panic:

Also known as the Satanism Scare, the book Michelle Remembers (1980) detailed the alleged repressed memories of a psychiatrist’s patient which claimed they had been abused as a child for Satanic rituals. In these rituals, babies would be sacrificed and Satan would appear.

Reports of sexual child abuse for these rituals - known as Satanic Ritual Abuse - proliferated until the 1983 case made against the McMartin family. The McMartins owned a preschool in California and were allegedly sexually abusing the children in their care for ritualistic purposes. A lengthy trial ensued and the McMartins were eventually cleared of all charges.

But it was too late.

An evangelical anti-Satanism movement emerged claiming no children would lie about such claims and therefore all accused must be guilty. A conspiracy theory similar to those before emerged claiming SRA was rampant across the US, but it lost momentum by the turn of the 90s. Various investigations by the FBI and British government looked into SRA but found no evidence of Satanism or rituals in any cases of child abuse. Some lone cases of pedophiles did involve rituals, but these were isolated events that never involved Satanist groups.

The 7 Types Of Satanism

Satanism is an umbrella term to describe a vast array of religious groups. There’s a swirling sea of beliefs from the philosophical Satanists that don’t actually believe in Satan to the minority groups that are willing to sacrifice humans in the name of worshipping their god.

However, this ocean does share a common focus on individualism, self-perception, and non-conformity - traditional traits associated with the devil.

There are 3 forms of Satanism: reactive (attempts to invert Christianity and celebrates rebellion), rationalist (atheist and materialistic beliefs), and esoteric (actually worships Satan and draws upon religions like Paganism and western Esotericism).

The Church of Satan kick-started modern Satanism. Erected in 1966, Anton LaVey promoted an atheistic philosophy that focused on indulgence and an ‘eye for an eye’ ethical code that celebrated mankind as animals in an amoral world. Hate and aggression were not wrong but were advantageous for one’s survival. Yes, the seven deadly sins were actually beneficial for the individual.

The First Satanic Church was founded on Halloween night in 1999 by the daughter of Anton LaVey after his church was taken over by a new administration that Karla deemed against her father’s work.

The Satanic Temple is an atheist-activist group that stages political ‘pranks’ that rebel against the political and social dominance of Christianity. They aim to showcase religious hypocrisy in stunts such as performing a ‘Pink Mass’ over the grave of a Westboro Baptist Church goer (known for their explicit and offensive signs). They use Satan as a metaphor to rebel against a society that restricts personal autonomy and curiosity.

Luciferianism is a belief system that pivots around the characteristics associated with Lucifer. Followers believe Lucifer is the illuminated aspect of Satan, thus considering themselves Satanists. But some believe he is a more positive force than Satan. They follow the ancient myths of Egypt, Rome, and western Occultism. They consider him the true god - a destroyer but also a ‘light-bringer’ to the world.

The Temple of Set does not necessarily revere Satan by instead a being they call Set. Satan was the corrupted name of set, an entity that is the one true god. It gave humanity intellectual abilities to separate it from animals and they believe in a Setian philosophy with self-deification as the aim of all humanity.

The Order of the Nine Angles was inspired by ancient Pagan groups resident in Shropshire in the late 60s. But the founder of the group, Anton Long, is considered the pseudonym of neo-Nazi David Myatt. They encourage human sacrifice as a part of rituals and several members have joined the police and the military to do this without getting caught. The ONA is linked to several rapes, murders, cases of child abuse, and right-wing terrorism. They are also connected to several neo-nazi terror organisations.

The Joy Of Satan - contrary to its name - ain’t joyful. It’s an Occultist group that combines Satanism, Paganism, and UFO conspiracy theories. Just like the ONA, they’re Nazis. They believe Satan is one of many demonic deities which are powerful humanoid extraterrestrial beings which are equated with ancient gods. They believe Satan created humanity and brought us knowledge.

Reactivism isn’t a form of Satanism that is followed by an organised group but rather practiced on a personal, isolated level. It is considered an anti-social means of rebelling in a society dominated by Christianity. Most reactive Satanists are adolescents, mentally-disturbed, and have taken part in criminal activity associated with Satanic rituals they discovered through personal learning.

For example, in the 1970s two groups of teenagers in LA and Big Sur killed 3 people and ate parts of their corpses as a part of rituals devoted to Satan. Plotted murder and cannibalism are common traits of reactive Satanist crimes.

The A-To-Z Of Devil Worship

Baphomet

A deity that the Knights Templar allegedly worshipped. It is associated with the Sabbatic Goat which represents the equilibrium of opposites (half-man and half-goat, male and female, good and evil).

Black Mass

It is traditionally known as a requiem mass (funeral mass) in the Roman Catholic church from which the celebrants wear black clothes. However, it has been appropriated by Satanic cults. It often involves a naked woman as an altar and is the site of various Satanic magical rituals.

Cutter vs Wilkinson

A Supreme Court case which claimed federal funds cannot deny prisoners accommodations that are needed to engage in religious practices. Five residents of an Ohio prison including a member of a white supremacist Christian church, a Wiccan, and a Satanist filed the suit, claiming the officials failed to accommodate their ‘nonmainstream’ religions.

Devil

The personification of evil which shows up in many different religions. It is Satan in Abrahamic texts.

Demon

A supernatural entity often associated with evil. The original Greek word - daimon - did not have negative connotations.

Demonology

The study of demons.

Demonolatry

The worship of demons.

Goats

Satanism is always associated with goats. But why? There are several reasons: Baphomet is half-man, half-goat; the ‘infernal goat’ is depicted in many witches’ sabbats; Pagan traditions involved horned gods Christian forces deemed devilish; and the tarot card depicting the devil is a goat. In 1966, the church of Satan adopted baphomet as the sigil.

Lucifer

The name of mythological and religious figures associated with Venus. It is associated in the Christian tradition with Satan as he supposedly fell from heaven. Often called ‘the morning star’ or described as ‘light bringing’.  

Stanislaw Przybyszewski

The first guy to promote a Satanic philosophy.

What do you think?

Let me know in a comment below! And while you’re there, make sure you like and reblog this article.

Want to read an article on the paranormal every Saturday? And a real ghost story everyday/whenever I’m bothered? Hit follow!

[llyncooljones]

a little bit of love - rowaelin month day twenty-six.

ao3 || masterlist || rowaelin month '21 masterlist

prompt: you're seeing my roommate and accidentally walked into my shower

word count: 1282

trigger warnings: language, implied drug use, mentions of drugs, mentions of abuse/abusive relationships.

tag list: @live-the-fangirl-life @rowaelinismyotp @rowanaelin @fireheartwhitethorn4ever @themoonthestarsthesuriel

the shared apartment, 23:18 pm.

Taking Remelle as a roommate?

Easily the worst decision Aelin has ever made. Beating out every drunk college story her parents have heard with the ease of a hot knife through butter.

The slamming of the front door jars Aelin from her coursework, jars her so thoroughly she’s pretty much sat there on the couch shaking from the reverberations of the door slam.

Knowing it was her roommate’s absolute hunk of a boyfriend who had just stormed out, Aelin sighs a tired sigh, one full of recognition for what the night will hold. What her tired arms will hold by the end of the night.

A rum drunk Remelle, blaming everything on her sweet, quiet boyfriend who only got un-sweet and un-quiet when he and Remelle were in her bedroom.

Thin walls, all she has to say on the matter.

Whining about his responsibility and his gentleman-like manners, the fact he actively raises chivalry from the dead each day with his bare hands after he’s opened every door, pulled out every chair and held her hand every second he could.

All while Aelin sits there and wants to scream at her roommate (who has the unfounded delusion they the two are best friends) that she should be grateful to have a boyfriend who does that, that being the bare minimum, as well the rest of the shit he does for her and her abusive tendencies.

Instead of the fake moans and cries of her roommate as she trudges from her room of abuse and misandry, all she hears are the distinct click-clacks of her heels, and the smacking sound her lips make as she applies lipstick in a shade so red there isn’t a single chance she’s leaving the apartment still in a relationship with Rowan Whitehorn.

As the click-clacks of her shoes draw closer, Aelin races herself for incoming bitch but still has to doubletake when she sees her roommate’s outfit for the night. In a top that does little more than cover her nipples and a skirt that does little more than cover her ass (bar the little crease where cheek meets thigh) not that it exists on her perma-high body, resulting in a sickly skinny body.

Aelin does a nod, appreciating the outfit for what it is, that being a massive, neon, flashing cry for help.

“Girl!” Aelin exclaims, putting this fake personality that matches Remelle’s, “You really want to, you can come sit here with me and we can get hella drunk and bitch about that dick who just left. Can you just imagine the nerve of him, doing all that shit to you—" treating you so good, so sweet, I’ve got a toothache “—a bad apple. That’s what he is, hun.”

“Don’t even try, you little slut, you know what you did.” Remelle spits the words at Aelin, continuing to layer the lipstick on, well over the lines of her lips.

“And, what, exactly is that. I’m dying to know, Remelle. Enlighten me in all your all-knowing ways, in your omnipotence and your omniscience.” Aelin’s words pack a punch she’s been holding back for so long she doesn’t know what to do with it, doesn’t quite know how to make sure it doesn’t all come out in one fell swoop.

“That little stunt you pulled, with the shower and shit. Don’t sit there, pretending to be innocent to me while you stink of the guilt of a homewrecker.”

“Of course, you’d know the smell so well wouldn’t you, given it sticks to you the same way the clap does. It’s like you don’t know the sexual health clinic two blocks from us have free condoms by the box. It’s not that hard, love.”

No guy’s dick is around you.

Aelin hates the bitchy undertones of her words, she’s all about female empowerment and feminism. But people like Remelle, the misandrists, the homewreckers for lack of a better word, they’re the ones who put a drag on everything Aelin stand for and believes in.

This meaning, the stunt she supposedly pulled in an effort to home wreck, is the most absurd accusation she’s heard since Remelle accused Rowan of abusing her because he treated her well.

Gods, the sympathy she feels for the girl sometimes. What fucked her up so bad she ended up like this, that she can’t see a good man for a good man and thinking absolute power to women and none to men is the solution, and unable to see beyond her own sphere of guilt and insecurity.

It had happened a good few weeks ago now, an accident she doesn’t regret playing a part in remotely.

a week ago, the apartment, 21:35 pm.

The shower is hot against her back, the thorough jets of water soothing the tension collected in her shoulders. Letting out a slight shudder as the water hits a particularly knotted area of tissue, she runs her hands through her hair.

It hangs long and soaking wet down her back. Hitting the curve of her ass, a light brown colour because of the shower. Suds drip down the tresses, her lemon and mint shampoo hanging heavy in the steamy air.

As she runs her hands through again, she twists the end slightly, pulling the shampoo from the ends. Squeezing a massive dollop of lemon and mint conditioner on her palm, she rubs it through the ponytail section of her hair. Pulling back from the shower head until she’s out of the spray and shivering ever so slightly.

It’s this moment the bathroom door opens wide and loud, slamming against the vanity counter and making a horrible crashing sound. “Remelle,” comes a frighteningly quiet voice, brimming with close-kept anger and a long-festering hate, “I swear to everything holy and sacrilegious that if you do not explain to me right now why some crackhead dickhead popped up on front step claiming I, allegedly,  owe him for the ten large I, somehow, stole from him in the form of pure fucking coke I, and this time it’s actually me, will call up every friend you’ve ever made and tell them all that you’ve slept with their partner.”

The only thing she realises from the angry growl of his is the way he used partner, as opposed to boyfriend or girlfriend or whatever. A guy who can respect LQBTQ+ right is a guy Aelin can get behind (or on top, or below, or however else he might just so happen to want her).

Obviously not this guy, though.

This guy being her roommate’s boyfriend. The quiet, kind, and respectful Rowan Whitehorn.

Pulling back the curtain, she pokes her head out of the shower and makes a sad little waving motion and winks at him. “I might not be Remelle, and I might not be able to give you ten grand to pay for this supposed debt. Buuuut, I do make a mean margarita and you, my handsome friend, sound like you need one.

It’s safe to say that Rowan didn’t leave until gone two in the morning, his eyes red and sore from crying, his chest heaving just a little bit and his hair mussed by Aelin’s hand in his hair.

From when he sat on the couch, head in her lap, allowing her to scratch his head all while he confessed the fucked-up reality of his relationship with the one and only Remelle.

It’s also safe to say that without the help of Aelin Rowan would have never left Remelle today; damn her soul to eternal hell if she’s never been this pleased with herself, or proud of herself. Or proud of Rowan, for that matter.