#and i WOULD scream and cry and yell and explode

[glassamphibians]

the cast saying they miss starstruck in interviews + murph with long hair again the ball is ROLLING UP

[alchemania]

“Don't you hate her?”

Furina turned, eyebrows raised in confusion. “Huh?”

“Your creator. Don't you hate her?”

The girl pondered a moment, looking unsure. “I..don't know.”

“You should,” he asserted. “All this time you had to suffer alone, for what?? People who didn't even care about the real you?? People who were ungrateful and selfish and only cared about themselves, at the end of the day??”

“Not everyone is like that,” Furina protested, shaking her head slowly. “I ..did suffer, but it all worked out in the end. Besides, I wouldn't be here if it wasn't for her-”

“The same could be said for my mother,” Wanderer interrupted, eyes flashing. “I came into being because of her, but that doesn't make her a good person, or a good parent. She hurt me. These two facts can coexist. Focalors created you, yes, but she also subjected you to 500 years of suffering where you couldn't confide in ANYONE or risk losing everything. Wasn't that awful?? Wasn't it a horrible time? You were all alone living on a hope and a prayer, and if it went wrong, it would have been all for nothing. You were a means to an end, and what do you have to show for it? Sure, everybody was saved and all was well, but now you're just - a person, and people hate you for what you did, people hate you for what you DIDN'T do. Was it worth it?? Are you satisfied?”

“I am,” she nodded, after a beat. “Because, this is what I was created to do. And, I'm free now. I don't know what I'm going to do, but at least my life is mine. I can do whatever I want. I can live.” Wanderer's jaw clenched, and Furina frowned, nervously. “..why are you so angry?”

“Because SOMEONE has to be!” he shouted, voice cracking. “I mean- I heard about the trial, they were gonna kill you- they lured you there because you wouldn't talk, right? And then after everything, did anyone apologize to you or- praise you, for all the hell you went through? Anything??”

“.. Neuvillette is taking care of me.”

The pain on Wanderer's face was almost palpable, at that.

“..anything else?”

“.. it's fine," she tried to appease. "It's not like I serve any purpose anymore. Like I said, I did what I was created to, so I'm not of any use and-”

“Stop.”

“..what?”

“STOP- talking like that,” Wanderer snapped, eyes suspiciously glossy. She sounded so much like him, who he used to be, and it hurt so badly.

A blank sheet of paper has infinite potential, but it is nothing as long as it is empty, he'd said, a good while ago. He'd been wrong about himself, and Furina was wrong now.

“You're not just - what you were made for. You don't - what happened to you is wrong. You're not DISPOSABLE now that everything is over.”

“It- it was for everyone's sake, compared to my suffering, it's obvious what's more important! I had to save them! It’s what I was born for! It doesn't matter -”

“It DOES,” he yelled, eyes glowing an almost neon icy blue, and she startled. “Stop acting like your suffering was something that was necessary. Stop acting like it was just for the greater good. That doesn't matter! The fact of the matter is that you suffered, and you were hurt, and you're STILL hurting! And- barely anybody is there for you..your creator, she should have been there for you, she should have protected you, but she didn't. She didn't. And you - you have every right to be angry with her, for not being there for you. For you being unable to live, until now. It was wrong, even if it was, as she claimed, for the greater good. Don't defend her.”

"She loved me-"

"And she left you, so not enough."

Just like my mother ..

“...Wanderer,” Furina ventured, worry all over her face.

“What?”

“You're crying…”

..oh. He hadn't even noticed, but his cheeks WERE wet, and he put a hand to one with a start, quickly scrubbing at his face. “Ah-” and he pulled his hat over his face, to hide it.

“..it was a lot. I often wondered when everything would end. I wanted, to tell someone so badly what was going on,” Furina admitted, and Wanderer looked up, eyes red from weeping. “There were a lot of times I didn't think I was going to make it, but. But I did, and, and everything was okay.”

“But are you?”

There was a long pause, and the two of them stared at each other until Furina slowly shook her head no, hot tears streaming down her cheeks.

“See? You're - we're both so messed up, from everything, and no one was there,” Wanderer almost whispered, looking out the window. "No one was there to help. ..You're strong as hell, I'll give you that. If I was in your shoes, I don't know if I would have made it. It seems people are stronger than I've given them credit for..”

It was something that surprised him, again and again.

“I just don't understand why you care..”

“.. I don't know why I do,” he shrugged. “Maybe because you remind me of myself, and. It hurts, looking at you and feeling like I'm looking in the mirror. But someone has to be in your corner and -”

“And you want to do that?”

A pause.

“..Well, if you don't stand up for you, no telling who will.”

“You don't have to cry over me. I'm -”

“If you say you're not worth it, I am going to bodyslam you,” Wanderer growled, eyes flashing, and Furina put up her hands.

“I wasn't going to! I was going to say that I will be okay. Not now, but. Eventually. I'm healing. I promise. There's people who care, like you.”

Wanderer fell silent then, looking away, and she reached out and squeezed his hand. “Thank you. I'm still wrestling with - with what I want to do and where I'll go but. It's nice to know that I'm valued just for existing.”

“That's all you need to be valued,” he muttered, looking to the floor. “You don't have to prove the worth of your existence. It's fine to just be.”

“..are you talking to yourself, or me?”

He looked to her then, expression unreadable, and she smiled sadly, in understanding. “Both is good. It's okay to just be. We're here, and we'll be okay.”

“Yeah,” Wanderer whispered, giving a shaky breath. “..we will."

[b3ach-bunn7]

C U GIRL

Bakugo loves his girlfriend

based off this texpost and @laffythefaffy request!

slight nsfw, fluff, prohero!bakugo

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Bakugo didn’t believe in relationships.

Romantic ones, at least. Platonic ones he’d been convinced of, after the relentless nature of his classmates, but Bakugo could safely say that, at the age of twenty five, he had never been in love.

It didn’t depress him. He’d had experiences. He’d kissed and he’d fucked, and it felt good, and still he’d never had a girlfriend. His childhood was a mess of war and pain and death, and so there was no time for it then. And now, his days are filled with patrolling and missions and he doesn’t really have time for it either. Where is he supposed to meet one, anyway? The only time he goes out is when he gets dragged to the annoying 1-A meet-ups at the bar in Nagoya that are always far too loud for his liking. And Bakugo would rather keel over and die before he tried to flirt with someone in front of Denki.

But Bakugo was happy with his life. Content. Enough as a busy hero could be.

And then he met you.

He’d been patrolling that day. Quite possibly the worst part of his job. It’s more for publicity than safety, he thinks. Civilians like seeing a hero walking around and cruising the streets. It makes them feel protected and it makes his agency look good for looking out for the public. All it means for him though, is way too many people asking for interviews and pictures and the waste of a day at work.

And then he’d heard it. A loud crash and screams that echoed down the street and the sudden rush of civilians from the bookshop a small ways away. They scattered like ants and Bakugo pushed through them, breaking into a run.

Something, or someone, had crashed through the front door, glass scattered in sharp jagged pieces on the floor. That seemed to have been the extent of the damage. He ignores the clammer of a crowd behind him and steps inside, eyes scanning the shop for the source of the destruction. And he assumed the poorly dressed man standing in the middle of the place was the cause. It looked like a home-made costume that reminded him of Deku’s first ever costume, and the man wearing it looked just as weak as he had.

Bakugo sighed internally. They get a couple of guys like this every so often. People with too big dreams of fame or villainy or both, and a flashy enough quirk that they think some damage will get their name plastered on the six o’clock news. More often than not, it ends with Bakugo nearly blowing up their face and the next few years in prison.

Balugo kicked a fallen book. The man caught sight of him and stood straighter. It might have been a show of strength but Bakugo saw his hands quiver as he pointed them at the crying civilian next to him.

“Not a step closer, Dynamight! Or I’ll blow her brains out!” He yelled.

Considering the damage to the door and the way he’s wielding his hands like the weapon, Bakugo assumed this was a quirk attack. His eyes darted around to assess the situation. Other than fallen bookcases and the dust of a broken wall, there wasn’t too much damage. The place was pretty small anyway. There were four people in the room, including the villain, and judging by the fact they’re all on their feet he didn’t think they were injured. Even the one being held hostage looks fine, other than the flurry of tears falling down her face. She looks young, and Bakugo scowls.

“Let her go and I won’t have to blow your fucking hands off.” Bakugo demanded.

“No! I-I make the rules here!” It was sad, really. The kid was practically shivering. Definitely not villain material. 

Before Bakugo could do anything, like explode the sad fucker into the nearest juvenile detention centre, there’s a loud thud, and the man crumpled to the floor. Confusion flitted across his face and then he looked up and saw you. 

You, hobbling forward on one ankle, a hard-back dictionary in your hand, breathing heavily. Your clothes were wrinkled and your face flushed, chest heaving as you looked down at the man in front of you. The dictionary dropped to the floor and you cursed.

“Fuck. Did I kill him?” You mumbled, nudging his shoulder with your good foot.

You hadn’t killed him. Just knocked him out, he found after pressing his fingers against the man’s neck. He clicked on a pair of quirk cancelling cuffs and handed him off to the police, who had just arrived. He watched as they started talking to the other victims and he turned his attention to you.

“That was real fucking stupid. Don’t ever get involved in a fight like that.” He snapped.

You pouted. “I got him, though.”

Red eyes flicked down. You were looking worriedly at your ankle, hands holding you up on the counter beside you. He studied your face, the small crease of worry between your eyebrows. You suddenly glanced up at him. You gave him a small smile and he shook his head.

He crouched down, beckoning you with his hand. “Idiot. Show me your ankle.” 

You held your foot up gingerly, and Bakugo pressed his fingers against your bone, touching lighter when you wince slightly. Behind him, he could hear the commotion of paramedics checking on the other civilians, the blare of sirens from outside. Your fingers drum against the counter you're leaning on.

“Don’t think it’s broken. Just fractured.” He said, standing up again.

He saw you squeezing your wrist, stretching it out and wiggling your fingers. He nodded, gesturing at his own wrist.

“You fuck that up too?”

You laughed slightly. “No, I- I think I just hurt it when I smacked him with that book.” You shook it once. “I’ll be fine, though.”

“You got him good though. Nice swing.” 

The little comment surprised even him, and you laughed, out of shock more than anything else, and he allowed a small smile to ghost his own face. 

“Thanks. Your agency need any extra hands?” You teased and he rolled his eyes.

“Not one as dumb as you.” He drawled and you just grinned back.

He watched you glance behind you at the paramedics and back down at your ankle. You winced, pushing yourself up so that you could start the walk towards them, but he waved you off.

“Hold on.”

In one swift motion, his hands came up under your thighs, the other sweeping behind your back, and he lifted you up with ease. You made a sound of surprise in the back of your throat. Your hands wrapped around his neck and your body was warm against his.

“I’ll get you to the paramedics. They’ll fix you up.” He said.

And you were close enough that when you replied, a soft okay, he felt it rumble against his chest, could feel your fingers curl against the small of his neck. He felt an odd sensation in the pit of his stomach at your proximity. Not one he’s used to when he’s saving civilians.

He held you tighter as he bent over the door frame, making the disappointingly short journey to the bank of the closest open ambulance. A smiling woman came over and listened as Bakugo relayed your injuries, and you watched in keen interest as she used some healing quirk over your ankle.

Bakugo could’ve left. He should’ve left. He isn’t the type to sit and check up on the victims, he’d usually be back carrying on patrol, but. Bakugo lingered. He watched as the paramedic told you to take it easy for the next few days, and you beamed that smile at her he itched for you to aim at him. She wrapped a bandage around your ankle and you thanked her. And once the paramedic left, and your attention was back on him, he could appreciate you a little more. Outside, in the bright summer sun, your eyes shone, your skin glistening in the light as you rolled your ankle around.

“God. It must be nice to have a quirk that can just fix someone up like that.” You hummed. 

“You don’t got a quirk?” He asked and you shook your head.

“Nah. Don’t really need one when you’re running a book store, though.” 

Bakugo crossed his arms over his chest. He hoped you saw the bulge of his biceps that he definitely wasn’t trying to show off. “Right. You be more fucking careful next time.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Me? You’re the one who needed rescuing, if my dictionary wielding is anything to go by.”

He barked a laugh. “Yeah?” 

“Yeah. But don’t worry. I’ll forgive you once you help me fix the store.” 

It was Bakugo’s turn to raise an eyebrow. “And who said I��m fucking doing that?” 

You didn’t bristle at his tone. Just flash those pearly whites up at him. “I’m going to have to send my workers home after that fiasco, so. I’d like an extra pair of hands. And I’d hope one of Japan's top Pro heroes would help a book owner in need.”

He rolled his eyes. “Suck up.”

But he did come back. After his shift was over, he stalked his way over the streets he’d just been patrolling and he helped you organise your shelves once more. It was unprofessional. There was probably some code or some rule in the Hero conduct that stated you definitely were not allowed to meet up with civilians you just saved and flirt with them as you alphabetised stacks of books and lifted heavy shelves.

But he did it anyway.

And then he started appearing at the shop more. It was on his patrol route, after all. And he was looking to start reading more as well. And the door to your office is rickety, and he knew how to fix that, so he had to come by again. 

And then he asked you to dinner one day and everything sort of went up from there.

So now he has a girlfriend. And a fiance soon, if things go well next week. And now that Bakugo has it, a person he can call his, he doesn’t know how he lived without it for so long. 

Bakugo doesn’t know how he spent so many years sleeping alone, when now he wakes up and his legs are tangled between yours and your head rests on his chest. You trace the scars that litter his body so gently, gentler than anyone has ever handled him. You know how to match Bakugo’s temper, but better how to calm him down when his flares too much. But it’s more than that. It’s the little things. You always make him lunch for work because you know how busy he gets, and you always leave his towel at the top of the pile because you know he gets up before you. Such small noncommittal things that make all the difference in the world because it shows that you care.

It makes him regret. He wishes he’d given these things a chance when he was younger. But he doesn’t need to think about that because he has you now. It also makes him appreciate patrolling a little more but nobody could beat that information out of him if they tried.

Bakugo sighs. The TV blares a movie he’s not paying attention to. He’d clicked the first thing that had come up in Netflix, some horror movie with an awfully predictable plot. He’s more focused on his phone, more precisely the clock, which tells him you’ll be home in about five minutes. 

Bakugo loves his days off. Any hero does. They are so far and few between that he has no choice but to enjoy them, the few days a month where he can do nothing and not worry about the fate of Japan for one day. What he likes most, though, is that he gets to see you. Before, days off consisted of sitting in his apartment alone or being dragged out to whatever activity Mina had organised for the day. Even then, the odds of them all being off was slim, and so he usually ended up doing the former. He didn’t mind it. Bakugo caught up on his hobbies, tried new recipes. The only perk is now, he gets to do it with you.

And like a miracle, he hears the jingle of your keys in the lock, and he can feel the tension in his shoulders drop. 

The door swings open and you walk in, calling out to let him know you’re home. He leans his head back on the couch until he can see you, and you grin up at him. You’re wearing an old pair of jeans and one of his hoodies, and you hang up your jacket, sighing heavily.

“Why was the store so busy? It’s Sunday.” You grumble, walking to the kitchen to drop off bags of groceries.

“Idiots like you who left their chores until the last minute.” He says, and you stick your tongue out at him.

“Shut it. I nearly beat up this old lady in the fruit section. Trying to take my watermelon.” You mumble under your breath.

You slip off the hoodie, grabbing the t-shirt you’d left on the couch. You weren’t wearing anything underneath, and Bakugo got a beautiful eyeful right before you slip it on.

“Uh huh. You sure you need that shirt?” 

He tilts his head and you smile, pulling out the claw clip holding up your hair and scratching your scalp. You slip off your jeans, throwing them on the floor, and shuffle your way over to him.

“Yes. I’m cold.”

“I’ll warm you up.” 

You snort. You clamber onto his lap and Bakugo sits back, hands smoothing over your thighs as you lean your head on his shoulder. You smell like your sweet perfume and outside, and Bakugo lets a hand run up your back and into your hair.

“That’s cheesy. I could wear more layers.” You ponder and he tuts, hands moving down to slip beneath your shirt. 

It’s baggy and oversized, and covers far too much if you ask him. His hands are warm against your cool skin, and his fingers dance against your hips and up, past your waist and to your chest. You sit up, smile curving your lips and your own hands settle on his shoulders.

“So handsy. I was trying to tell you about my day, Suki.” You pout and he reaches up and kisses you.

“Go ahead. M’listening.” He nods, kissing your cheek and your jaw and down your neck.

Bakugo is selfish. He’s self-aware enough to admit that. He’s selfish with his work, the way he fought his way to the top, and still does. He’d improved on it in his growing age but he finds that when you’re involved he doesn’t give a shit. He wants every part of your, every breath, every noise that comes out of that pretty little mouth of yours.

“So, of course I tried to be nice. I’m no animal.” 

He’s not paying as much attention as he should be. In his defence, it’s been far too long since he’s gotten a chance to be with you. He’s been far to busy, and the small hours you meet in bed before you both drift off into sleep is not enough. 

“Stop being nice. It’s your biggest weakness.” He raises an eyebrow.

You flick him squarely in the forehead and he scowls. “Ow.” 

“You need to start being nice, Mr Pro hero. But anyway, she started like, trying to tug it out my hands! And you know what old people are like. So entitled.”

Bakugo nods. You feel great under his hands but. He wants something more. 

“And so now I’m in this fruit aisle sort of shouting a little because I had the watermelon first, and- Katsuki, get out of my shirt!” You laugh as Bakugo slips his head beneath, kissing his way up your stomach.

“That’s- Your hair, it tickles.” You try to push him out but he groans.

“Piss off. Keep talking. Did you kick her ass?”

You sigh. “I- Okay, wait.” 

You quickly pull your shirt off. “Is this better?”

Bakugo grins, lazy and sharp. “Much.” 

Your hand reaches up and cards through his hair. He mumbles into your skin for you to continue, and kisses his way up to your chest.

“And this employee comes over. And he started trying to diffuse the tension, but then he started defending her! And saying I should ‘respect my elders’.” You huff.

Bakugo nods. He kisses across the valley of your breast, the soft skin that presses against the stubble of his jaw. 

“You want me to beat him up?” 

“Hm. I don’t think it will look good on your agency if you beat up Whole food workers.” You sigh.

Bakugo sucks a nipple into his mouth, teeth grazing against it. You make a noise in the back of your throat. 

“And. And then I got kind of fed up. The employee had a really annoying voice.” 

Your eyes flutter shut a little when he moves to the other one. His hand comes up to grab the breast his mouth isn’t working on and you sigh.

“He. So I just gave her the watermelon. Cause it wasn’t really that serious.”

Bakugo nods. He lets go, breath cooling the air around your nipple and he glances up at you.

“You should’ve called me. I’d have blown that old hag to the nearest nursery home.” 

You giggle and he grins. His hand presses into the small of your back and pushes you closer. He diverts his attention from your tits and kisses you softly instead. At least it’s soft at first. But then you whine ever so slightly into his mouth and it’s all over after that. His lips almost devour yours, and he can feel your face heat as he nips at your bottom lip, tongue darting out to tangle against your own. Bakugo drags you closer but you huff. Your hand running through his hair pulls his head back and Bakugo frowns.

“The fuck?”

“How is it fair that I’m sitting in my underwear and you’re fully dressed?” 

“I was waiting for you to finish your story first.”

You smile warmly. Bakugo doesn’t know of anyone else who looks at him with so much love. You grab his face and squish his cheeks together.

“You’re so cute.” You coo.

“Shut up.”

“Okay, you made me too horny to finish my story. It was a stupid one, anyway. Can we go fuck now?”

“Yes. Definitely.”

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bakugo kiss challenge go kiss me NOEOWWWW

ive been sooo lazy to write recently.. this took me ages to write and it's nnot even that long.. but i hope u all enjoy!

[rafekisser]

Had this idea about Rafe’s best friend! Reader who hasn’t been with anyone in like a year and is getting really worked up. Maybe she had a terrible week and there was a last straw and she’s yelling and yanking on her hair and throwing things and Rafe is kind of realizing she just needs to be totally dominated and taken care of so he does

rafe x bsf!reader

a/n: i totally love that idea anon !! first time writing ever i just didnt want to let sweet nonnie down, so apologies if its not that good !

cw: smut, swearing, drool.

rafe knew you haven’t had a hookup in ages. you would vaguely mention it, when it would be just the two of you in either one’s rooms. if he was being honest, he pitied you. he even wanted to be the one to help you…

you were pissed off the whole week. maybe it was your hormones, with the way you would get annoyed at everything.

whether it be traffic making you late to events, or people at the country club being rude, steam was coming out of your ears.

you were like a ticking time bomb waiting to explode anytime now. good thing your bestfriend kept you grounded whenever you were feeling overstimulated.

so there you were, in your room getting ready for dinner with your family and the camerons. rafe on your bed scrolling on his phone, patiently waiting for you.

you were quiet while doing your makeup on your vanity table, not your usual chatty self. normally you would go on and on about anything and everything under the sun, yapping for hours on end.

rafe knew something was up.

“something wrong bunny?” he asked, using the nickname he gave you referring to the time you dressed up as a bunny for halloween when you two were little.

“no,” you replied with a pout, voice barely above a whisper.

rafe knew better than to push you, so he just sighed and kept quiet.

a few moments have passed, and rafe hears a soft ‘oh fuck’, a thud, and heavy breathing from your vanity. he looks up from his phone and sees your head down, soft sobs coming from the table.

when he got up to come closer, you shot up. screaming, crying, wailing even. rafe could see your problem now: you smudged your mascara. you started yanking out your hair curlers, figuring they were useless if your makeup was ruined anyway.

“woah woah- hey bun!” he yelled, pulling you by your waist. he placed you on your bed, rubbing up and down your arms to soothe you.

rafe guided you gently so you were laying your head on your pillows. he was in between your legs, arms caging your frame.

“shh calm down baby,” he whispered, wiping your mascara stained eyes with his thumbs.

he petted your hair, large hands slowly making their way to your cheeks.

“i’m here, i’m here.” he cooed as your cries hushed, turning into soft hiccups.

in this position he could feel you wet through your bloomers. he looked at your eyes as if to ask for permission silently, before he cupped your mound through the frilly fabric.

“what d’you need bunny?”

“need you rafey,” you whined. he carefully pulled down your bloomers, a string of slick connecting your pussy to the fabric.

rafe grew hard at the sight, taking his thumb to run across your slit. his other thumb trailing to play with your nipples through your top.

you mewl at the simultaneous sensations, given you haven’t experienced them in a long while. he took that as a sign to circle your clit, causing your eyes to shut and your legs to close, only to be blocked by rafe’s broad figure.

he then plunged two fingers in and out of you, thick digits stretching your tight hole. rafe’s hand that was previously playing with your tits find their way to your mouth, muffling your lewd moans.

“let’s be quiet bunny. your parents might be downstairs” he shushed, deep voice making your pussy clamp down on his fingers.

fingers curling up to hit your sweet spot, rafe could feel you getting close.

“you can cum baby, go ‘head,” he signals, feeling you gush all over his hand. eyes rolling to the back of your head, you felt euphoria rush through you.

as you rode out your high, rafe removes his hand from your mouth, drool dripping from your mouth and his hand.

“sorry,” you squeaked. he didn’t mind anyway, just happy you probably had your first orgasm not from your own fingers in months.

it never occured to you that this was an option, to be touched by your own bestfriend. this wouldn’t be the last time it happens, you could tell.

“thank you rafey.” you smiled weakly at him, looking through your lashes. he didn’t say anything, just kissed your forehead.

“are we late to dinner?” you asked, suddenly remembering why you were getting ready.

“i drive fast, we’ll make it,” he smirks, grabbing your small hand to cup the bulge through his pants.

dinner could wait.

likes and reblogs are greatly appreciated !! love, scarlet.

[lovelynicho]

Hii!! I’m feeling angsty rn 😞

Andteam’s reaction when you walk away crying/cry or flinching in an argument you get the idea?? HSHSH hopefully it won’t be too hard to write and tyyy. Love your works mwaps!! 🫶🫶

&team reaction - to you crying/flinching in an argument

Pairing: bf!&team x gn!reader

Genre: angst, fluff

Warnings: one curse word in EJ's; mention of abusive relationship in Yuma's; not proofread

Notes: it's my first time writing something as angsty as this so I hope you like it; english is not my first language I apologize for any mistakes; and I'm sorry for not posting for so long, I didn't have the motivation to write😔

Masterlist

K

He's very strong, therefore he can be really scary at times. Especially when arguing. You hate arguing with him, so you usually try to leave when it gets a little out of hand, so both of you can calm down alone. Him on the other hand, although he hates arguing too, is a firm believer that everything needs to be discussed right then and there. This difference between you can cause some problems. Once when you were in a big argument with him, you decided that it should be ended, told him that you can't deal with that right now and you're going to your room to calm down a little, alone. But he didn't want to let it go, so he grabbed your wrist and continued yelling his problems at you. But his grip was too strong, it was painful. You looked at him, tears threatening to fall from your eyes "Yudai, it hurts" you said quietly. He looked at his hand and realisation hit him. He let go of your wrist, looked at you for a few seconds before saying "I'm sorry". Slowly and softly wrapped his arms around you and he kept repeating those words a million times: "I'm sorry, I'm sorry I'm sorry...."

Fuma

Although he is the most gentlemanly gentleman to ever step foot on Earth, he is incredibly strong and has a really deep voice. These two things can make him seem rather scary when you guys are in a serious fight. One day a little fight went a little too far. Both of you were just tired, working more than you should so even a little misunderstanding can turn into fighting. You two were just yelling at each other. At this point you couldn't even tell why you started to fight you just had to let the tension out. But when Fuma made a sudden move in your direction you screamed and backed until your back hit the wall. You were just looking at each other. His eyes were in pain, more like worried actually. He slowly approached you and when you didn't scare away he hugged you, his lips next to your ears whispering. "I could never hurt you. I love you so much, I would never want you to be in pain"

Nicholas

Although Nicholas is a sweetheart, I think we can all agree that from the outside he looks rather intimidating, even scary at times. And this feature of his does not do any good when the two of you are fighting. He also seems like the type to lose his temper pretty easily which is also bad for the situation. Once you had a really big fight. Both of you probably knew that you could settle it calmly but you built up so much stress at work and from life itself that you just had to let it out and unfortunately you chose to let it out on each other. You were at fault too, you said something really hurtful to Nicholas and he felt like he will explode if he doesn't release the tension. So out of anger he hit the wall closest to him. But that was right in fron of you and for a second you thought that he aimed at you. So you closed your eyes and just waited while tears were falling from your eyes. But instead the punch you expected you only felt warm arms wrapping around you. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to scare you..... I could never hurt you" he whispered. Then you just stayed there for a while, crying everything out in his comforting arms.

EJ

Our leader is such a sweet guy. Even though he's tall and quite strong you just need one look at his boba eyes and you already feel safe. His soft speaking nature also adds to the feeling of comfort he gives to not just you, but everyone around him. But as the leader he has lots of duties and also has to take care of not less than eight people. Believe me when I say, sometimes man is tired. And that day when he went over to spend time with you he was especially tired and stressed from work, he just didn't want to cancel the date because he hasn't seen you for what felt like forever. But when he got to you and you kept just asking him about his day and what they have been up to nowadays eventough he said he doesn't want to talk about work, he had enough. "Why can't you just shut up for a second? I cane over to have a calm evening but you just keep bothering me, I'm literally just wasting my time with you now" he yelled. His words shot straight to your heart. You managed to mutter a small 'sorry' and at least start walking away to your room before the tears started falling down your cheeks but he heard your sniffles. And standing there he knew, he fucked up.

Yuma

He probably wouldn't have scared you like that if it wasn't for your past. You had an abusive relationship before you met him. Your ex used to beat you up and it was hard for you to manage to get away from him. But with Yuma it was different. He was the nicest man you've ever met and the thought of him hurting you never entered your mind. But when you were having a rather bad fight every memory of your ex that layed in the back of your mind suddenly came back. That's the reason why when he lifted his hand as he was aggressively explaining something to you in the heat of the argument you instantly put your hands infront of your face as protection. You weren't scared of Yuma, it was more like an instinct, but he didn't know that. "I didn't mean to scare you" he muttered, much softer now than before "I'm so sorry y/n". "No, it's not your fault" you said as you stepped closer to him to assure him that you really weren't scared at all "it was just an instinct because of my ex. It really has nothing to do with you. I'm sorry" and with that you hugged him tightly. But he still whispered in your ears hoping to comfort you "don't ever apologise for something like this. It's not your fault love"

Jo

He's a sweetheart. I don't think he could ever even talk loud let alone make you cry. So if you cry in an argument then both of you cry, there's no other option. When you ended up in a bad argument you just threw every word against each other even if you didn't mean it. You hated it. Seeing him mad, being mad at him. You felt tears in your eyes, slowly rolling down your cheeks. When he saw that he couldn't say another word, instead he did exactly what you did, salty drops of water running from his eyes. You just looked at each other. No talk. Words weren't needed. Those things made you cry. You ended up cuddling on the couch crying out everything silently.

Harua

Usually Harua is a very soft person. I mean you can already tell it from his cute almost boyish looks. However when he's in a fight he can be surprisingly strong minded. You learned that in your first serious fight with him. He stood very firmly by his point believing he was right, when in reality he wasn't. At first you tried to convince him calmly but after a while you just had enough and instead of keep trying to solve the problem in a calm way you started yelling at him. As an answer he also raised his voice and even gesticulated to prove his point but the moves of his hands were huge and firm you've never seen him raise his hand this strongly before so as an instinct you flinched. And that's when he realised that he went too far. "I'm so so so so so sorry" he said already crying with his hands infront of his mouth. "I don't want to hurt you I swear" he kept going on about that. "It's okay I just over reacted" you answered as you softly wrapped your hands around his waist and pulled him into your chest.

Taki

This guy is always full of jokes and pranks. He just sometimes forgets to think about what if the given joke or prank is not funny but actually hurtful to someone. One day when you were at the dorm, this exact scenario happened. Taki just intended to make a joke but didn't consider that it was actually pretty hurtful to you. At first you just stayed silent because you didn't want to talk about how wath he said made you feel so bad. But when he noticed that you became more silent than before he tried to make you talk with another joke which was a huge mistake. You flipped out yelling at him about how hurtful his joke felt for you personally and that he should have considered your feelings. But his reaction to that was just him saying "relax, it was just a joke, if you can't take that, say that, and I won't tell it anymore" and that made you angrier. "Taki it's not that I can't take a joke it's just that your joke was not funny, it only made me feel bad and I can't even look at you right now" you yelled as tears started to roll down your cheeks. And with that you just left the dorm. In shock, he just sat down on the ground trying to figure out what to do.

Maki

Maki is a nice guy, everybody and their mother knows that. But sometimes even he can have bad days. Unfortunately you decided to come over unannounced to the dorm on one of those days when he would just rather be alone. When you arrived of course he was still happy for you, but in contrast to his, your day has been so good that you kept rambling. After some time you asked about his day and even after him saying that he would rather not talk about that now you asked one more time if he was sure and that was it for him. He almost started to yell at you infront of everyone in the living room but thankfully he still had the manners to keep these things privately. So he grabbed your wrist and pulled you into his room, shut his door as strong as he could and he started yelling at you only noticing minutes later that you were so scared from his sudden change of moods that you backed away from him and tears were built up in your eyes. When he realised how bad the situation was he decided not to talk anymore. Just went up to you and wrapped you in a tight, warm, comforting hug. A hug that lasted maybe five minutes, maybe ten minutes, maybe half an hour. You didn't know and you couldn't care less when you had each other so close.

[prettygirl-gabi]

Title: Good Old Days

Pairing: Paige Bueckers x Reader

Fandom: Women’s College Basketball/Women’s College volleyball (UConn / NC State AU)

Inspired by: “Good Old Days” by Macklemore ft. Kesha

Summary: Childhood best friends turned lovers rediscover love during final seasons.

A/n: this is Paige’s pov…..

🏷️: @paigeshirleytemple , @paige05bby , @unknowgirlypop , @yailtsv , @nicebellee , @sitawita , @thatonesuschix , @vamptizm , @elalfywhore , @starfulani , @authentic-girl03 , @paxaz535 , @azziswrld , @jadasogay , @paigeluvvr , @melpthatsme , @lessi-lover , @courtsidewithlani , @imnotkaizer , @italyyy , @lightsgore , @private-but-not-a-secret , @aubreygriffin , @issilovesherself , @graceeeeeesblog

I wish somebody would’ve told me, babe.

Told me that the nights spent on rooftops, the laughter echoing from backyards, and those wide-eyed dreams we swore were real—those would be the good old days.

That you would be my good old days.

I met you when we were eight.

You’d just moved into the house down the street, wearing your older brother’s oversized hoodie and scowling like you hated Minnesota’s snow more than anything else.

I threw a snowball at your window. You came outside to yell at me. We’ve been inseparable ever since.

We had our first fight two months later. You didn’t want to share your last Capri Sun. I called you selfish. You cried. I cried harder. We made up two hours later when I offered you my fruit snacks.

Childhood friendship. Pure, unfiltered, untouchable.

It stayed that way until we grew up.

It was the summer before we turned sixteen when it all changed.

Fourth of July. You wore a red tank top, fireworks reflected in your eyes. We laid on a blanket behind your cousin’s truck, half-drunk on soda, half-drunk on feelings we couldn’t name.

You said, “Do you ever think about us? Like… more than best friends?”

I didn’t answer. I kissed you instead.

That was our first kiss.

That was the start of something I didn’t have the words for yet.

“I wish somebody would’ve told me, babe. Someday, these will be the good old days.”

We said I love you the next month.

We said I hate you two weeks later.

Because that’s how we were.

Passionate. Stubborn. Real.

You wanted to go to homecoming. I didn’t have the guts.

I let you go with someone else, even though my heart screamed at me to ask you.

You were furious. “But you didn’t even ask either, did you, Madison?”

When you used my middle name, I knew I’d really hurt you.

You didn’t talk to me for three days. That was a record. I hated every second of it.

We got high together for the first time senior year. An edible at a bonfire. You laughed so hard you snorted water out your nose. I couldn’t stop saying I love you. You kept repeating it back through tears of laughter.

Those were the nights we thought would never end.

Then college came.

UConn for me. NC State for you.

We promised nothing would change.

But it did.

Distance didn’t kill us. Time did. Pressure. Injuries. Growing into different people.

Still, you showed up for me when it mattered. Like that day—August 1st, 2022.

ACL tear. Pickup game. My whole world flipped.

You flew in without saying a word. Showed up at the hospital in your NC State hoodie, hair in a messy bun, eyes red.

“I knew you’d need me,” you whispered. “So I came.”

I’ll never forget that.

“I just wanted my name in a star. Now look at where we at…”

Senior Night. February 16th, 2024.

I stood on the court, mic in hand, heart racing like it was my first game again.

“I know everyone wants me to address the elephant in the room… but umm unfortunately this will not be my last senior night at UConn. Im coming back!” I said, voice breaking as the crowd exploded.

You were in the stands. I saw you. I always found you first. You were crying, grinning, clapping so hard your palms must’ve burned.

That night, we laid in my bed. Not lovers. Not exactly friends. Something softer. Something complicated.

“I feel like this is it,” I murmured into the quiet. “Our year. I think we can bring it home.”

You turned to me, eyes glossy. “I think so too. And even if it isn’t… you’re already enough, Paige.”

No one else could’ve said that and made me believe it.

April 5th, 2024. Final Four. UConn vs. Iowa. 69-71. We lost.

I was in shock. Tears running down my face.

You were the first person I saw when I looked up.

No cameras. No fans. Just you, waiting by the tunnel.

You didn’t say anything. You just hugged me like it was 2015 again and we were back in my backyard crying over a scraped knee.

“I’m proud of you,” you whispered.

And God, I needed that.

Then your shoulder tore. Final season. Senior year. The one you came back for.

You tried to push me away again.

“Go focus on your season, Paige.”

I didn’t leave. I flew out. I brought your favorite smoothie and an ugly teddy bear from the airport gift shop.

You looked at me, broken and raw. “Why are you still here?”

“Because if I had to do it all over again—us, this, the heartbreak, the magic—I would.”

We spent spring in late-night FaceTimes.

Sometimes we talked. Sometimes we just stared at each other, eyes heavy with sleep and old feelings.

Other nights, I’d find myself in Raleigh. Or you in Storrs. Quiet visits. No social media. No explanations.

We sat on my roof one night after a party. Music below. Stars above.

“I wish time would slow down,” I said.

You nodded, head on my shoulder. “I wish we could be 16 again. I wish you’d asked me to homecoming.”

I looked at you. “I wish I had too.”

April 4th, 2025. Final Four. We won.

April 6th. National Championship. Tampa. We did it. Natty secured.

I collapsed in the confetti, tears soaking my jersey.

I searched the crowd again. And there you were. Hands cupped over your mouth, eyes bright with joy.

I pointed. You smiled.

After the game, I found you in the tunnel.

“Come back to Connecticut with me,” I said, breathless. “Come celebrate.”

You hesitated for one second. Then nodded.

April 7th. Welcome Home Rally. Gampel Pavilion.

You were front row. Cheering louder than anyone. I saw you mouthing my speech with me. You’d always known me best.

Later that night, parties in Storrs. I kept looking for you.

When I finally found you on the porch steps, red solo cup in hand, you grinned.

“Remember when we thought this was impossible?” I asked.

“Yeah,” you said. “But then again… we always were kind of unstoppable.”

April 13th. The parade in Hartford. Thousands of fans. Confetti and chants.

You were in the crowd. Again.

Always showing up.

Always my good old days.

April 14th. WNBA Draft.

I wore black. You wore purple. We didn’t sit together. We couldn’t. But the after party we were glued to each other.

I pulled you into my arms and whispered, “Thank you for every version of me you loved.”

You kissed my cheek and said, “I’ll always love every version.”

And now, sitting in this quiet hotel room, draft hat on the table, champagne on the dresser—I think about us.

“I was thinkin’ ‘bout the band… thinkin’ ‘bout the fans… in a small club in Minnesota…”

I was thinkin’ ‘bout you.

How we used to sneak out, lie on the grass, dreamin’, figuring out who we were. The futon nights. The fights. The Fourth of July. The homecoming I ruined. The edible giggles. The hospital rooms. The long drives. The late nights. The confessions. The heartbreak.

All of it.

Those good old days.

And I finally understand what the song meant.

“Maybe these are the moments… maybe I’ve been missin’ what it’s about…”

I smile through the tears.

Because even though we didn’t end up where we thought we would, I had you.

And that was always enough.

I pick up my phone.

Me: You up?

🏐💕: Always for you.

Me: I don’t know what happens next. WNBA, life… all of it. But if I had to go through every moment again—the best, the worst, the magic, the pain—I would. With you.

🏐💕: I’d do it all again too.

You send a picture. It’s us. Fourth of July. Sixteen. Right before our first kiss.

And I know, deep in my bones, in my heart, in the history written in every scar and every smile line…

“I wish somebody would’ve told me, babe…”

These will always be my good old days.

I don’t remember falling asleep, only that your voice was the last thing I heard and your picture was the last thing I saw. Fourth of July. Age sixteen. A still frame of a beginning.

The next morning, sunlight pours through my hotel window like it’s got something to say. My phone buzzes. It’s you.

🏐💕: Wanna get breakfast?

Me: Always.

We meet at a little diner a few blocks from the hotel. It’s nothing fancy—red booths, sticky syrup bottles, that smell of burnt coffee and cinnamon pancakes.

You’re already there when I arrive, hoodie pulled over your head, sunglasses on despite being indoors. You wave me over with a fork in one hand, smile tugging at the corners of your lips.

“Sleep okay?” you ask.

“I did once you answered.”

You snort, nudging a mug toward me. “I ordered your coffee. Hazelnut. Two sugars. I remembered.”

“You always do.”

We fall into conversation like we never stopped. College talk. Draft nerves. Rookie contracts. Training camps.

Then, it quiets. There’s a lull between bites of waffle and sips of coffee. You glance out the window, chewing your lip the way you always do when you’re nervous.

“Can I ask you something?”

I nod. “Always.”

You meet my eyes. “Do you think… do you think we missed our chance?”

I set my fork down. My chest tightens. “I used to think that.”

“And now?”

“Now I think… maybe we needed the time apart to grow into the kind of people who could try again. And get it right.”

You look down, then back up. “I never stopped loving you.”

I reach across the table, cover your hand with mine.

“I never will.”

It’s not loud. Not dramatic. No background music or movie-score-worthy kiss. Just you and me, in a booth that smells like syrup, holding hands like we’re sixteen again and scared of what love could mean.

Only this time, we’re not scared.

This time, we’re ready.

And maybe we can’t rewrite the past, but we can choose what comes next.

“I wish somebody would’ve told me, babe…”

“…that someday, these would be the good old days.”

And maybe—just maybe—we’re about to start the best ones yet.

■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■

                 -Thank You For Reading!🩵🩶

                             -prettygirl-gabi🎀✨️

[jxwl4k]

hii so if you take request right now and if you arent busy could you do a request where the reader is pregnant and katsuki was in a mission somewhere and he gets the call that she is in labour? maybe she was with mina or someone when her water broke? and he runs to the hospital? but not the like the serious way like reader just mad at him through the contractions for not coming earlier and shouting at him through the pain and bakugo just taking it all nodding if you dont do request right now please ignore it love your other oneshots they were fabulous :)

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ You better get here, Katsuki! .𖥔 ݁ ˖

☘︎ . . . genre. fluff, giving birth

☘︎ . . . pairings. bakugou x fem!reader

☘︎ . . . requested? yes by anon

⤿ Bakugou sprints from a mission to the hospital after YN goes into labor, only to get yelled at through contractions for being late.

Katsuki Bakugou was on a mission. A quick one, supposedly low threat, in and out. No big deal.

Until his phone rang.

And it was Mina.

Screaming.

“KATSUKI SHE’S IN LABOR!!”

He froze mid-fight. “SHE’S WHAT?!”

“Water broke! She’s yelling at everyone! I’m driving her to the hospital now, YOU BETTER GET HERE FAST!”

He bolted.

Meanwhile, you were in the backseat of Mina’s car, gripping the door and yelling.

“WHERE IS HE?! I SWEAR TO GOD MINA IF HE MISSES THIS”

“He’s on his way! He’s probably flying or exploding or running with those weird loud feet of his!”

You groaned through another contraction. “I’M GOING TO DIVORCE HIM AND NAME THE BABY AFTER KIRISHIMA.”

Bakugou did explode-run. Straight to the hospital. He looked borderline unhinged by the time he burst into your room, hair a mess, shirt half tucked, hands slightly singed from his explosive sprint.

You were mid-contraction when you spotted him.

“YOU!”

“Hey”

“YOU TOOK YOUR SWEET TIME!”

“I RAN HERE FROM THREE CITIES OVER!”

“SHOULD’VE LEFT SOONER!”

He moved beside you and gripped your hand, completely unfazed by your death glare.

“Yell all you want, babe. I’m here now.”

You squeezed his hand with a strength that would make a grown man cry.

“YOU’RE NEVER TOUCHING ME AGAIN AFTER THIS, KATSUKI!”

“Yes, dear.”

“NEVER!”

“Got it.”

You screamed. He nodded. You cursed his name. He held your hand tighter.

And when it was all over, and the cries of your baby echoed in the room, you sobbed and clung to him.

“…You made it,” you whispered.

He kissed your forehead, eyes soft despite everything.

“Of course I did. You’d kill me if I didn’t.”

© jxwl4k 2025

[livelaughlovebigzoro]

---

Title: "Behind His Back – Part 2: His to Ruin"

*Geum Seongje x Reader*

Warnings: Jealousy, manipulation, emotional blackmail, public exposure, toxic dynamics, kidnapping, dubious consent, rough unprotected sex, creampie, obsession, possessive behavior, power imbalance, profanity, degradation. 18+ only.

---

You should’ve known he wouldn’t let it go quietly.

After what happened on that couch, you tried to end it. Pretended nothing happened. Kissed your boyfriend like your mouth hadn’t been full of his brother the night before.

But Seongje *knew*.

And worse—he *waited.*

---

The family dinner was supposed to be normal.

A rare moment of peace. You dressed up, wore something simple, sat beside your boyfriend, tried to hold his hand like everything was fine. But when Seongje walked in—late, as always—you felt the room tilt.

He didn’t look at you at first. Just lit a cigarette in the backyard, drank whiskey from a coffee mug like no one could tell.

You told yourself you could survive the evening if you avoided him.

But he had other plans.

---

It happened during dessert.

Your boyfriend was laughing, your mom was complimenting the wine, and Seongje—lounging in the corner like a wolf in a dinner jacket—just snapped.

“You gonna tell them,” he said suddenly, loud enough to hush the room, “or should I?”

You froze. Everyone looked at him. Then at you.

“What are you talking about?” your boyfriend asked.

Seongje smiled lazily. “She didn’t tell you? She’s been fucking me behind your back.”

Your breath died in your throat.

“Geum Seongje,” you hissed, standing, voice shaking. “Shut the fuck up.”

But he stood too. Took a slow drag from his cigarette. “Go ahead. Lie. Look your parents in the eye and lie about whose cock you were choking on last week.”

The room exploded. Yelling. Glass shattering. Your boyfriend stormed off. Your family stared like you were a stranger. And through it all, Seongje just smiled like a man watching his favorite movie.

You slapped him.

And he didn’t flinch.

---

You blocked his number.

Moved out.

Cut him off cold.

And for a few weeks, it worked.

Until it didn’t.

---

You woke up in a bed you didn’t recognize.

Your wrists weren’t tied, but your head was heavy, and your mouth tasted like sedatives. Dim light filtered through blackout curtains. Everything smelled like cigarettes and cologne—his.

Panic surged as you sat up.

“You’re awake,” came the low voice from the armchair across the room.

Seongje. Relaxed. Legs spread. Smoking like this was a fucking honeymoon suite.

“You drugged me,” you said, voice raw.

“No,” he said coolly. “I *rescued* you. From your sad little life of pretending.”

You stood too fast and stumbled. He caught you before you hit the floor.

“I told you,” he said, mouth at your ear, arms too tight, “you’re mine now. I warned you what would happen if you walked away.”

“You’re insane.”

“Maybe,” he said, guiding you back to bed, pushing you down, “but you liked it.”

You tried to slap him again. He caught your wrist mid-air.

“Hit me all you want,” he growled, “but I’m still the only one who ever made you come hard enough to cry.”

He kissed you then—brutal, bruising. And despite everything, your body betrayed you. You kissed back. Harder.

Clothes were gone in seconds. You weren’t even sure who tore what.

He shoved your legs apart and *spit* on your cunt before slamming into you raw.

You screamed.

But not from pain.

“Still so fucking tight,” he snarled, snapping his hips. “You miss this? Or did you fuck someone else while pretending I didn’t ruin you?”

You shook your head, gasping.

“That’s right. No one else,” he panted. “You belong to *me.*”

His hand closed around your throat. Not enough to choke—just to hold you still while he *fucked* you, unrelenting, like he needed to brand his name inside you.

“You mad?” he whispered. “You should be. I ruined your family. Your relationship. Your reputation.”

You nodded, tears slipping down your cheeks.

“Good,” he said, and kissed you again, softer this time—too soft. “Then you’ll remember who you belong to when I fuck a baby into you next.”

You gasped, legs shaking.

“That’s right,” he said, fucking you deeper, harder, hand on your stomach like he could feel it take. “I’m gonna come inside you until you’re dripping, until you *can’t* pretend it’s not mine.”

And he did.

Deep. Hot. Possessive.

When you collapsed against him, too tired to cry anymore, he pulled you close and whispered:

“No more running.”

---

[demie90s]

𝐌𝐈𝐂𝐃 𝐔𝐏 & 𝐌𝐀𝐃𝐍𝐄𝐒𝐒

꒰ 🍒 ꒱ DIANA TAURASI X READER ꒰ 🍒 ꒱

2/? Part 1 Part 3 Part 5

MASTERLIST

⭑ pairing: Diana Taurasi x fem!rookie!reader

⭑ summary: Rookie of the Year, team favorite, and everybody’s newest obsession—you can’t keep your mouth shut during a live interview. Diana Taurasi’s sitting right next to you, and your talent for getting under her skin is almost as good as your game.

⭑ genre: humor, flirtation, slow-burn tension, public chaos

⭑ warnings: light language, suggestive flirting, press/fan reaction

⭑ word count: ~0.8k

The lights hit, the cameras roll, and the crowd’s already screaming before you touch the mic.

You flash a smile. The one that’s been on ESPN since draft night. The one that had people tweeting “that rookie’s got something dangerous in her eyes.” Rookie of the Year. A walking headline. And today? You’re mic’d up next to the Diana Taurasi.

She leans back like she doesn’t care. Like she hasn’t noticed you’ve been sitting with one leg over the other, relaxed and shining, making it your mission since preseason to get a reaction out of her.

You adjust the mic. “Thanks for having us. I was told I had to be professional, so I left the crop top at home.”

The audience laughs. You glance over.

Diana doesn’t blink.

“Probably for the best,” she mutters, straight-faced.

You grin, unbothered. “You say that, but I’ve seen how you look at me in practice. Don’t play.”

The team—seated in the front row like this is reality TV—loses it. Sophie slaps her knee. Skylar covers her mouth. Brianna pretends to be shocked for the camera.

Diana sighs. “Here we go.”

“C’mon,” you shrug. “I’m Rookie of the Year. Let me be annoying. It’s in my contract.”

“You’re doing great at it.”

The moderator, God bless her, tries to regain control. “So! How’s the dynamic been, with such a strong rookie presence on the team this year?”

“Strong is a word,” Diana says flatly.

You lean into the mic again. “Obsessed is another.”

“She’s been flirting with me since training camp,” Diana says, dry as desert air.

“And yet you never file a complaint,” you fire back, smirking.

“HR said no,” Sophie yells from the crowd.

Everyone’s dying. Twitter is probably already clipping it. You can see the phones held up. You’re trending again, and it’s not even noon.

“I just think she’s fine,” you say, waving your hand like you’re stating the weather. “It’s not my fault I got good taste and no filter.”

Diana finally looks at you—really looks. Her mouth tight, fighting a smile. “You should focus more on film and less on flirting.”

“I’m a multitasker, mama.”

“Oh my God,” Skylar groans behind her. “She called her mama.”

Diana rubs her temples.

You sit back, pleased. You’re killing it, as usual. The league loves you, the fans adore you, and your favorite hobby is cracking through the ice wall that is Diana Taurasi’s tolerance.

The moderator asks another question—something about your first season, about pressure, about your historic run—but you only half-hear it. Your eyes stay locked on the way Diana finally, finally cracks the smallest smile.

You live for that smile.

You answer clean, smooth, charismatic as hell. “Pressure makes diamonds. Or whatever Rihanna said.”

“Didn’t know she coached now,” Diana says.

“She could,” you shrug. “You’d listen if she did.”

“So would you,” she says, then instantly regrets it.

The room explodes.

You turn, all teeth. “So you admit I’m your type.”

She lifts her mic. “I admit nothing.”

The crowd is loud. The team is crying. And somewhere deep down—even if she’ll never admit it—you know you’ve cracked her just a little.

MASTERLIST

[lulunothulu]

“Talking to the moon”

Tyler Owens x Reader

Summary: After missing the flight meant to mend your relationship, Tyler is left with anxiety. Thinking you’re planning on breaking up with him, Tyler tries his best to reach you—even talking to the moon.

Inspired by this post and “Talking to the Moon” by Bruno Mars 💗💗 @hunterthecharmer this one is for you.

He felt miserable.

Every time he tried to distract himself from that argument, he felt like the weight of the world was falling on his chest.

It’d been almost a few days since Tyler had last seen and spoken to you and he was absolutely dying to hear from you.

You must’ve been so angry at him. Especially after he’d accidentally missed the plane that was meant to take you both on vacation.

You’d both been arguing about anything and everything for the past couple of weeks before the actual day of the flight.

“Tyler,” you’d say. “Why can’t we just have a weekend? Just one, for ourselves?”

“You know I can’t baby,” he’d tell you, watching as your face grew hard. “There’s a huge tornado that’s supposed to hit and I have to be here to document it.”

“You don’t have to, you want to.” You spat.

He’d watch as you’d shake your head and walk away and then feel like he’s whole world was spinning.

Tyler knew you were right, but he couldn’t help himself. Chasing had become like a drug to him, addicting and overpowering.

That’s why he vowed to give you that weakened trip you’d been begging for. He’d booked a trip to Nashville for the weekend, thinking it would be a great way to get away from everything.

Except, when the day to catch the flight came along a beautiful F3 tornado decided to make its way into a town an hour away.

“Tyler I swear to god if you go,” you started. “I will leave and you’ll regret it.”

“Baby,” Tyler breathed. “It’s an F3! It’s a once in a lifetime opportunity to—”

“You know what,” you interrupted. “Just go. If you’re not in the airport and on the plane by the time we have to leave, just know I will not be happy with you.”

Tyler kisses your forehead, smiling before promising he’ll be on the plane.

———

“Boone, get a shot of that!” Tyler yells, happily smiling up at the cyclone before them.

Boone points the camera toward the tornado, whooping loudly and excitedly. “Look at the beaut, folks!”

Tyler anchors the truck to the ground, smiling and then adjusting his harness. He turns to Boone and smiles before asking, “You ready to shoot some rockets, Boonie?”

Boone beans at Tyler before whooping again as the tornado passes over them, rockets flying up and swirling around along with the debris in the tornado.

“Whoooo! That was somethin’ wasn’t it?” Tyler says to the camera.

Boone smiles, “That was the best one yet, Ty!”

“Alright, Boone,” Tyler starts. “Let’s get back so I can finish packing.”

By the time Tyler got back to the house and then to the airport, he’d missed his flight.

“Fuck!” He muttered to himself. You were going to be pissed.

———

“Tyler, what the actual fuck?” You whisper-screamed.

You’d just landed in Nashville and were walking toward the rental car station, suitcase in tow and anger flaring.

You couldn’t believe he’d forgotten. You weren’t surprised, though. This wasn’t the first time he’d forgotten something important.

There was your third anniversary dinner that you’d spent all day preparing, his own birthday, when your parents came into town…you could list more, but your were pissed enough.

“Baby I’m so sorry,” he apologized. “I’ll be on the next flight there, just give me a few hours.”

“No, Tyler. Don’t bother coming,” you tell him, tears pricking your eyes and anger turning into pure disappointment.

You felt like you were breaking. Every inch of your heart wanted to explode in hurt, eyes wanting to give in and cry—but you willed yourself not to.

You wouldn’t be the person crying in an airport.

“I’ll see you next Monday,” you tell him, hanging up and turning your phone on ‘Do Not Disturb’.

Once in your rental car, you let the tears come. They spill down your cheeks, almost blinding your vision.

How could he do this? He was the one that set everything up!

You knew he’d never change and that’s what hurt you the most. You’d asked for three days. THREE DAYS. And he couldn’t even give you them.

Grief and pain washed over you and by the time you reached the hotel, you were exhausted and feeling the depression hit you hard.

You checked in, grabbed your hotel key, and then made your way upstairs.

The room was beautiful. A view of all of Nashville, the city lights started to illuminate into the room like the moon back home would.

You wished Tyler was there.

He could’ve been there had he not missed his flight.

Tears prick your eyes again but you blink them away.

Just because Tyler want there, didn’t mean you couldn’t attempt to have a good time.

Tomorrow, things would be better.

———

Tyler trudged back into y’all’s house, suitcase being thrown to the side as he angrily closed the front door.

How could he have forgotten? What kind of an asshole forgets he planned a romantic getaway and then not even show up to the airport?

Tyler wasn’t much of a crier, but right now he couldn’t help but cry.

He was so angry at himself. Angry that he let you down…again. He knew this wasn’t a first time thing. He knew this was grounds for a break up and by god did he deserve it.

He’d acted like an asshole and despite his lack of trying, he’d become the asshole of all assholes.

He wiped his eyes with the palms of his hands before walking to y’all’s room. Your side of the bed was strew with clothes you’d decided to leave, some makeup products scattered on top.

Tyler gently picked up one of your dresses, smiling down sadly at the material before pressing it to his face and sniffing the lingering scent your sweet perfume.

Tears pick up again as he holds the dress close to his body.

“Please don’t be mad at me,” he cried softly. “Please don’t leave me.”

Tyler’s shoulders shook as he sobbed, holding your dress before grabbing one of your shirts from the bed and pressing it close to his body. He’d broken your heart and yet, he feels like the one who’s broken.

He should’ve payed attention to the time. He should’ve just stayed home in stead of going chasing today.

He should’ve tried harder.

Sniffling his tears away and then laying your clothes on the bed again, Tyler walks to the balcony door in the back of the room. He swings the door open and leans on the railing, sighing to himself.

“Maybe I should try to call her,” he thinks out loud.

Tyler pulls his phone out of his pocket, dialing your number but frowning when you send him straight to voicemail. He tries again, frown growing when you send him to voicemail again.

“Hi you’ve reached…”

God damnit.

“Baby,” he whispers after the beep of your voicemail, looking up at the moon. “Please forgive me. Answer the phone.”

He takes a deep breath, still looking up at the white moon before him.

“The moon looks lonely tonight,” he continues. “It’s the same moon we always look up at but without you here, it feels different.”

He sighs, choking back a sob.

“I’m so sorry,” he whispers again. “Please, please, call me back.”

That’s how Tyler ended his night for the next few days. By the time Monday rolled around, he knew he had to go get you from the airport.

To say he was scared was an understatement. Tyler was petrified. He didn’t know what he was getting himself into when you get off that plane.

You’d just texted him that you were waiting at baggage claim and Tyler’s hands were sweating as they gripped the steering wheel.

He’s brought a bouquet of flowers in hopes that it will soften the blow. But as soon as he walked into baggage claim and made eye contact with you, something in the air shifted. 

———

You texted Tyler you were getting your bags with a sigh. You’d ignored all of his texts and calls the past few days and now that you were home, all you wanted to do was hear Tyler’s voice.

You felt like shit. Hair in a messy bun at the nape of your neck and clothed in leggings and one of Tyler’s sweatshirts, you make your way through baggage claim and retrieve your bag before turning toward the exit to see a disheveled Tyler walking your way.

Tyler’s eyes were rimmed red, hair messy and face scruffier than usual. In one hand, he held a bouquet of flowers, the other was twiddling with the hem of his black shirt.

It felt almost like a movie. As soon as Tyler’s eyes met yours, all the anger you felt toward him disappeared. Nothing but worry and love remained in your heart as you quickly made your way toward him.

“Tyler,” you whisper when you finally reach him.

“Baby,” he chokes out.

He looks ready to cry any second so you take the opportunity to wrap your arms around his neck, brushing the soft part of his neck and burying your face into him.

When he wraps his arms around your waist, you feel his shoulders relax and then shake.

“I’m so sorry,” he quietly says, his tears trickling down your cheek.

You pull away enough to face him, brows knitted together and wipe his eyes.

“Please don’t cry, Tyler,” you tell him. “It was an honest mistake.”

“I’ve been terrible to you and I see that now,” he continues. “I shouldn’t have forgotten about the flight. I should’ve—”

You stop him with a kiss, deep and full of forgiveness and love. When you pull away, you smile up at him.

“Tyler, I know how you are,” you tell him. “Let’s just start fresh. Okay?”

Tyler eagerly nods, kissing you again before letting you go and grabbing your suitcase. “Let’s get home.”

“Wait,” you stop him, grabbing a snow globe you picked up from one of the Nashville shops. “I got you this.”

In the small globe sits a man playing a guitar while looking up at a moon.

“I talked to the moon,” you start. “It said I should forgive you so I figured this would be a nice gift to symbolize that.”

Tyler’s eyes tear up before he kisses your forehead and says, “I love it. And I love you.”

“Good, be use I love you too.”

This took me two days to write because I couldn’t work out how to end it and I STILL don’t truly like it so I’m sorry 😭 check out my Masterlist for more fics!!! 🫶🏼

[bloodyknucklesforme]

Pomegranate | Nikolai x F!Reader

Chapter 7

Nikolai returns you

cw: dark fic, dubcon/noncon, reader is being trafficked, human trafficking, physical abuse

Masterpost

This is what it felt like to be devoured. To be held above gnashing teeth, ready to be masticated to bones and blood. A whole year of being chewed on till you could barely recognize yourself. 

A year ago you were in a similar position. Standing in your flat, crying to Marcus about the eviction notice when Arno walked in calling your name. Seeing him next to Nikolai made it seem like your world was collapsing all over again.

A year ago you screamed and begged for Marcus to save you, to not let this happen, to protect you. You wouldn’t debase yourself by doing the same with Nikolai. You shrugged off the fur and pushed it into his arms.

“Keep it.” He went to throw it over your shoulders and you skirted to the side.

“I don’t want it.”

“I’ll take it.” Arno snatched the coat from the air and threw it over his own shoulder. “You still owe me for all this time, Nikolai. Consider it a gesture of good faith.”

Arno grabbed your bloodied arm and yanked you out the door. Nikolai’s lip twisted in anger, “Get out of my house.”

You scooped up your clothes and quickly changed, trying to avoid Arno’s leering. You still had your coat and the cash inside. You kept moving to avoid breaking down. You weren’t leaving heaven but Arno was a different type of hell.

You made it two steps outside before being thrown to the ground, a bright spike of pain radiating from the back of your head. Arno put his knee on your back and grabbed your hair, pulling your head back as far as it would go.

“You stupid fucking bitch. What did you do?” He shook your head up and down rapidly. You moved your hands in front of your face to avoid eating the pavement. You prayed for a gunshot, to feel Arno slump on top of you and to be pulled out from under him by Nikolai. He was so close, a couple meters away. 

Arno dragged you by the hair to the car, the snow soaking your legs through your pants. You didn’t dare fight him. Arno lacked all of Nikolai’s restraint, always letting his anger explode into violence. You had to crawl into the car after him, hand scraping against the dirty carpet. 

“You know he hasn’t fucking paid me.” He kicked your side, battering you against the driver’s seat. “This whole time he’s put off paying for you.”

He grabbed your arm and pulled you up onto the seat, “Can you believe that?”

He smushed your cheeks, fingers digging into your jaw. He looked to Abel as they pulled away, “I think we should just fucking kill him. He talks about respect then he fucks me!”

“I never trust Russians.” Abel shrugged. “Just refuse to send him any more girls. But there is a reason your father told you not to piss him off.”

“I’m not afraid of some arms dealer! This cunt,” he shook your head, “isn’t fucking afraid. She scratched up his fucking face.”

Abel laughed, “Did she really?”

“Yes and now he won’t pay me.” He slapped you. Your head was pounding now, the car spinning around widely. Drugs or concussion you didn’t know at this point. “Waste of fucking time. Getting rid of her this week. Hear that? You’re too much trouble for what your cunt is worth.”

You put your head between your knees, your stomach lurching up towards your throat. 

“Maybe the Austrian will take her. The big one. He breaks his toys so often, always needs a new one.”

You had one moment. One chance. If he got you back to the club you’d never escape. You had 1k in cash. That could get you out of the country. 

You forced yourself to gag till you felt it bubble up from your stomach. Arno yelled in disgust as you threw up in his lap. Abel cursed as he pulled over the car. You grabbed the back of Arno’s neck and put all your weight into throwing his head full force against the center console. Blood poured from his nose, mixing with the vomit on the floor. 

The doors unlocked as Abel parked the car. You threw yourself out of the car and took off down the street.

You had never run so fast in your life. You thought about Cassie. You’d make it for her. You’d make it for yourself.

You rushed down the steps into a tube station and jumped the turnstile and flew onto the first train you saw, not carrying where it was going. You collapsed into a seat once the doors closed. You didn’t see Arno or Abel on the platform as you pulled away. 

Your hands were shaking but you were free. You’d made it. There was a limit to Arno’s reach and once you were out of it you’d never have to worry about him again. 

Nikolai…

“I will hurt her more than they ever could.”

Maybe he would never look for you. Arno would never admit you got away. He’d tell Nik you were dead. You hoped that your supposed death haunted him. He would haunt you.

Up until last night he’d lulled you into this state of pliancy. A doll for him to dress up and fuck as he pleased. His cruelty felt disingenuous, a forced reminder to the both of you that this was the man he was. It pulled apart your heart to think about. All those nights where you fell asleep with your head on his chest or tucked up against his side. His hand would graze over you till you squirmed, complaining he was tickling you. He’d smile softly and do it once more just to see you laugh. You would never see him again and a part of you felt sad. 

You didn’t get off the train till the line ended. You went to the nearest Lidl and bought food for the next couple days. Hopefully you would be on a train this time tomorrow. You’d go to Edinburgh and figure out how to get home from there. You just couldn’t stay in London. 

There was a cheap hotel a few blocks away from the grocery store. It was disgusting with stiff sheets and the pervasive stench of mildew but you had a whole bed to yourself. You just slept on top of the covers. 

For over sixteen hours…

Your arm ached the next morning. In the dingy bathroom you peeled off Nikolai’s improvised bandage. It wasn’t bleeding but the skin was discolored and swollen. You’d get it looked at later. 

You didn’t really have a plan. There were organizations that could help you but you couldn’t tell them anything about Nikolai and Arno would sell out anyone and everyone so you couldn’t tell them anything about him either. Would they even believe you then?

You could answer that question in Edinburgh. You had to just keep moving. 

You knew LNER ran trains to Edinburgh out of King’s Cross. You and a friend had gone once. You ate an apple and granola bar before setting off again, keeping your head down and the collar of your coat up.

You held back tears as you approached the station. In less than five hours you’d be good. No more looking over your shoulder. Your hands shook as you handed over the money for your ticket. A hundred pounds.

You had roughly half an hour before it arrived. Enough time to get a cheap cup of coffee. Nikolai had an espresso machine but it lacked the comfort that a shitty cup of coffee gave you. One that you customized with the exact amount of cream and sugar you liked. 

You sat outside the station cafe and smiled down at your little paper cup. 

“This seat taken?” A large hand rested on the back of the chair across from you. The voice made your stomach drop.

John stood there, a teasing smile on his face. You pushed your chair back, ready to sprint away, scream for help.

“I’m not going to stop you.” He sat down, pulling his leg over his knee. “Our mutual friend hasn’t told me you ran off so you either killed him or you ran away from someone else.”

“Arno wants to kill him.” You blurted. John raised an eyebrow at you. 

“It would be funny to see him try,” He chuckled. “How’d you escape?”

“I threw up on him and then broke his nose.” 

John covered his mouth to stifle his laughter. “Nik always knows how to pick them.”

“Are you going to bring me back?”

“No. Unless you want me to.”

You could prostrate yourself at Nik’s feet. Clean his feet with your hair, humiliate yourself in an attempt to win his favor again. It would be easier than rebuilding your life. He could keep you safe from Arno. 

“I don’t think that would be a good idea.”

“You break his nose too?”

“I scratched him.” John wasn’t a priest so your confessional state surprised you. This was the man that had assaulted you only two nights before. 

“I’ve done worse to him.” He shrugged. “He does like you. More than I’ve seen before. Thought he was gonna rip my head off when you passed out.”

He’d been so gentle when you woke up. You remembered that. How nervous he looked. He never said sorry yet still blamed himself for ‘overdoing it’. 

“My train is going to be here soon. I have to go.”

“If he wants to, he’ll find you.” There should be a word for things that are both comforting and terrifying. Like the ocean or thunderstorms or Nikolai. 

You quickly downed the rest of your coffee before standing.

“Have a nice day, John.” 

You turned around and walked into another person.

“I’m sorry…”

Arno stood there with a bruised, bandaged nose and a sneer. John’s chair scraped harshly against the floor.

“Sit the fuck back down.” Arno looked over you, towards John. Something sharp pressed against your stomach. “I will gut her, right now.” 

You looked back over your shoulder. John was looking over the two of you. 

“Don’t ruin my day by making me talk to the police.” John sighed before waving his hand away, “Take her. She’s not my problem. Might want to keep a better grip this time. Though she can only improve your ugly mug.”

Arno yanked you closer, you sucked in your stomach to prevent being punctured. 

“C’mon. We’re going home.” 

You gave John a pleading look. If you screamed you would die. If you didn’t you would die. This was it. Your last chance of escape was being called for boarding over the speakers. 

He held up three fingers before tapping the outside of his wrist. 

“I’m going to have so much fun killing you.” Arno growled in your ear as he dragged you down a side street. Abel was waiting by the car. You were shoved into the open boot.“Pick which fingers you want broken first.”

He slammed the boot shut, leaving you in darkness. 

[stagtorccio]

in case you write for shauna……i have a thought hmm

okok so basically she actually ends up going to brown and meets reader there - who’s practically jackie taylor reincarnated!! like very outgoing, similar style, kinda snarky but also very nice, you get the drift

they end up dating and sharing an apartment and living their cute life but our girl shauna is STRUGGLING

maybe maybe she even has r meet tai or smth and tai calls her the fuck out for it

i just wonder what thoughts you have about it

OH THIS IS WILDDDD i love shauna being crazy as hell... shauna getting out and having to go to boring-ass college because what the fuck else is she gonna do, and meeting alternate universe jackie taylor... fuck

HELP ALSO MY BAD MINORS DNI I SAID SOME FREAKY SHIT IN THIS

shauna hates college. really hates college. it's funny how the one thing she wanted more than anything before the plane crash almost feels like a punishment now. she was a queen, and now she has to write essays? what a bunch of bullshit

she meets you in ENGL 100D. matters of romance. go figure

well, she doesn't meet you, exactly. not until she's over her period of staring at you like she wants you to explode

because you're just. like. her. down to the mannerisms. the laugh. the stupid bunny rabbit twitch of your nose. the snark. even the slightest gesture of your hand reminds her of jackie and it makes her want to crawl out of her own skin

you're convinced she hates you, because what the fuck?? why is this scary brunette death glaring me in our poetry seminar??? send help?? but she's just half yearning half resenting and fullyyyyy unchecked and mentally ill

you get paired for a reading. the lais of marie de france, bisclavret. story about a werewolf and his lover. doesn't matter to shauna- because firstly she thinks you're typical popular girl ditzy and secondly she doesn't want to talk to you

but then fuck, you bounce up to her with a notebook and bunch of glittery gel pens, talking about how excited you are to work with her, and she can't keep holding a grudge against you for just sort of being her dead best friend come back from the grave to haunt her

so she works with you. and okay maybe she stares at you sort of awestruck as you read bisclavret like you're genuinely invested... waxing on in a dramatic voice trying to make her laugh

until you get to That Part

"It's true, more than all the world I love you. You should hide nothing from me, nor ever doubt I'm loyal in any affair. That would not seem like true friendship."

and fuck you remind her so much of jackie it makes her SICK ethel cain style

but also she's shauna. she can't help herself. girl's got zero impulse control. so she asks if you'd like to start hanging out more than just for school because that's such a great idea

and apparently, the one difference you and jackie have? you can actually admit you're gay

because "hanging out" turns to making out turns to you and shauna getting an apartment together a short drive away from uni so you can still make it to your morning classes

shauna feels actually deranged for it. doesn't stop obviously. just writes in her fuckass journal. countless entries about how you look just like her. talk just like her. are just like her.

it always comes back to that first assignment you got paired for— because bisclavret is a tragedy. the lady swore she would love the werewolf but when she found out what he really was, she ran away in fright and wouldn't see him anymore

which, fucking mood for shauna. so things start to spiral

she's obsessive. always trying to protect you, never letting you leave by yourself, and AB SO FUCKING LUTELY never letting you be cold. if you even slightly shiver she whips off her jacket and every other layer and bundles you up until you look like a penguin

she sees you as a second chance, but also as a bitter reminder

you call her "shipman" once and it sparks the only real fight you've ever had— like screaming yelling lashing out fight

you cry obviously because what the fuck shauna???

shauna also cries. apologizes and kisses it all better (doesn't admit that she kinda likes kissing it better.. that's freak for thought)

doesn't usually slip up— but just once she mumbles 'jax' during sex

you don't hear it and thank fucking god for that because imagine trying to explain it

she takes you to meet tai eventually because tai is the only one who's consistently kept contact with her and is still one of her best friends

and boy does tai clock that shit IMMEDIATELY. the first word out of your mouth is "hiya" and she just looks at shauna like 'what the actual fuck.'

"You can't be serious." Shauna's jaw ticks. She crosses her arms, looks anywhere but Tai's face— which is currently stone-set like the world's most disappointed, judgemental statue. She opens her mouth. Closes it. Tai practically balks. "Shauna," she says. Then, with the continued silent treatment from the typically ever-mouthy, ever-opinionated Shipman— "Shauna!" "Fuck, just— it's not like that, Tai," Shauna hisses, trying to be quiet, lest you hear their spat from where you've gone to the bathroom. "Then what's it like?" Tai prods, poking more holes in an already sinking, flimsy defense. "Because it looks like pretty fucked up to me." "I love her," Shauna replies, like it's that easy. It isn't. Tai's lips pull taut as a bowstring. "No, you're obsessed with her because she's practically a carbon fucking copy, Shauna—" She doesn't get to finish her argument, because the flush of the toilet and the door creaking, signaling your return, silence her. Good. Shauna figures she'll need the bathroom soon anyways. She doesn't think her lunch will stay down for much longer.

it's safe to say shauna doesn't take you around tai much after that. tai is always silently judging though

my bad i yapped a whole lot for this one BUT THIS IDEA IS SO INTERESTING... I LOVE IT

[sturniololuvz]

can be about literally anything but i crave an angst imagine with reader as their younger sister🙏🙏

yessss i love ANGST

“Say That Again”

The house was fucking silent.

Too quiet.

The kind of quiet that comes right before shit hits the fan.

You’d been spiraling all week. Anxiety? Through the roof. Sleep? None. And today? Today was the last fucking straw.

They ignored your texts. Again. You asked for one thing — one. tiny. thing.

And they couldn’t even do that.

⸻

You slammed your door so hard it shook the hallway.

It took less than a minute for Nick to storm in.

“What the fuck was that?”

You didn’t answer. You didn’t even look at him.

“Oh, we’re doing the silent treatment now? Bet.”

Matt appeared next. Then Chris. All three of them standing there like they had the right to be pissed.

You snapped your head up.

“Where were you guys?!”

Chris blinked. “What are you talking about—”

“The meeting!” you shouted. “The one I begged you to come to! I waited for two fucking hours—alone—while everyone else had parents or someone there, and I sat there like a fucking idiot!”

Nick scoffed. “You’re kidding me, right? You’re throwing a fit over that?”

“A fit?” Your voice cracked as your chest heaved. “You think this is a fit? I was terrified, Nick! I was sitting in a fucking office while they told me I might not graduate if I don’t get my shit together. And I had no one.”

Matt raised his voice. “So what? We’re your parents now? We’re not your fucking babysitters, Y/N—”

“NO, YOU’RE MY BROTHERS!” you screamed, eyes blurring with tears. “You’re supposed to show the fuck up! You act like you care until it’s inconvenient.”

Chris’s voice was sharp now. “Watch your mouth.”

You snapped.

“Fuck you, Chris. Seriously. You only play the protective brother when it’s performative. You don’t give a single shit unless it makes you look good.”

Nick lost it. “The fuck did you just say?”

“I said you don’t care! None of you do! You love the idea of being good brothers, but the second I actually need something from you, you all vanish!”

Chris yelled. “You’re out of line.”

“I don’t give a fuck.”

Matt stepped forward, his face twisted in anger. “You have no idea how lucky you are. We give you everything. A house. Food. Shit people would kill for.”

“I don’t need your fucking money, Matt! I need you! I need a fucking family!”

The room exploded.

Everyone yelling over each other. Your voice cracking from screaming, theirs rising with rage. Chris cursing under his breath. Matt pacing like he wanted to punch a wall. Nick shouting until he was red in the face.

And then, it happened.

Nick — eyes filled with disgust — spat the words that cut the deepest.

“You’re such a fucking burden.”

The room went dead silent.

Even he looked like he regretted it the second it slipped out.

You stood there frozen, your entire body numb. Your mouth opened, but nothing came out.

Just a soft, broken whisper.

“…okay.”

Then you turned. Walked to your door. Closed it.

And this time?

You locked it.

⸻

You didn’t cry right away.

You sat on your floor, shaking like a leaf, your head between your knees, trying to hold it together.

But then it hit you all at once.

Everything.

The loneliness. The pain. The fucking heartbreak of knowing the people who were supposed to love you — the ones who promised they’d never hurt you — just ripped you to shreds like it was nothing.

You screamed.

You sobbed so hard you could barely breathe.

Outside, you heard Chris bang on your door.

“Y/N, open the door. Please. I didn’t mean it like that—”

“Leave me the fuck alone.”

Matt’s voice followed, quieter. “Y/N… we didn’t know. We didn’t realize—”

“You don’t care. You never did. Just go.”

Silence.

And for the first time in a long time…

They actually listened.

⸻

[81pastrys]

Lando daughter where she has been fussy and upset all day with her mom and mom picks her up and she’s upset so she like hits at her like young kids do and mom is upset then Lando comes home and has to deal with it all?

A Big Fuss

Summary— Lila wakes up with the telltale signs of a cold and fusses about everything. When she doesn’t want to nap she throws a tantrum at her mum

Warnings— toddler tantrums (dramatic) ; hitting/kicking at mum ; Lando being the mean one ish

A/N— this is long so enjoy <3

Dad Lando List

Lila woke up with a mild cold and Lando insisted he stay home, but his wife refused. He had something for Quadrant and Max would understand a sick daughter. The first strike of the day was arguing over it in front of Lila.

She also wanted Lando to stay home and cried when he made his way out. “Lila, he has to go work, come on let’s take some medicine so you feel better.” Her mum said on her level while holding her back from the door as it locked. Lila thrashed and got out of the grip, banging on the door while crying.

Her mum sighed and got the little girl medicine anyway. She picked her up from the door. “I want daddy!” She shouted. Her mum sat her on the counter and handed her medicine and a water cup.

“Take this, it’ll help you feel better my love.” She cooed. Her daughter took the medicine and threw the medicine cup at her. “Okay, stop with the attitude Lila. He went to work.” Her mom scolded. Lila internalized the scolding and behaved until strike two.

Her mum made lunch but it wasn’t what Lila wanted. Lila whined and picked at the food. “I want soup mama.” She wasn’t yelling, or shouting but she did have a slight attitude. The only reason her mum made her the soup was because she was sick, otherwise it would’ve been a tantrum over the food. Lila was content with the soup when her mum served it to her.

Strike three however, was nap time. Lila quit taking naps a while back but since she was sick, her body was fighting illness. Her mum insisted she take a nap. “You’ll feel better and daddy will be home when you wake up.” Her mum explained. That wasn’t enough. A tantrum exploded and she stomped her feet, rolled on the floor, kicked at her mum.

Lila about lost it when her mum tried holding her to rock her in the rocking chair. She was thrashing and ended up hitting her mum in the face. Lila stopped immediately when she was let loose. She sat on her feet looking up at her mum, realizing what she did.

Her mum had tears building and left the room, slamming the door behind her. She needed a minute from the screaming toddler. Lila took the initiative to get in her princess bed and drifted into a nap.

“What happened?” Lando asked on the phone, already grabbing his stuff to leave. She had called him crying, Lila had been like this for a few days and he hadn’t noticed it, Lila didn’t think he knew. His wife finally had enough and broke down from it.

“She wouldn’t calm down so I tried to rock her to sleep, and I don’t know Lan, she accidentally hit me in the face.” She sniffled, hearing Lando’s car start. He stayed on the phone with her in case Lila wanted to start something else before he got there.

“She hit you?” He asked, in disbelief. His sweet, innocent, little princess, hit her mum? Oh Lando is not happy. “I’m sorry my love, I’m sure she didn’t mean to.” He heard her sniffle again.

“I know, but it’s still hard to not think she meant it, she was mad at me for trying to get her to nap.” She explained. “I think she knew because she stopped right after.” Lando pulled in the driveway and she met him at the door. He hugged her waist, not able to hug her properly from all the stuff he was carrying.

He dropped the stuff as soon as he could and held her. Leaving kisses on her head. “You’re an amazing mum, you know that?” He praised her parenting. “Lila doesn’t feel well, I promise you she didn’t mean to hurt you on purpose.” He reassured her. “If she did that’s another story for later.” He joked, making her laugh. When he went to Lila’s room she was out cold.

They cuddled and watched a show until she inevitably woke up and joined them. She emerged from the hall, curls everywhere and her favorite blankie in hand. A koala from Oscar when she was born. She noticed Lando and crawled into his embrace, settling between the couple comfortably. He lightly laughed and she just got more comfortable.

“Sweetheart I need to have a talk with you.” Lando said moving her curls out of her face. She pouted and nestled her head further into his arm. “Your pout won’t help you Lila.” He whispered to her. They finished the show and then got off the couch. Lando picked up Lila and sat her on the counter. “What happened today?” He asked, an arm either side of her on the counter.

Lila’s eyes looked to her mum and back to Lando with guilty eyes. Tears began to form as she explained. She held her koala to her mouth. “I wanted you to stay!” She whined out first. Lando shook his head at her and wiped a tear.

“No, sweetheart, what happened while you were here with mama?” He specified. Her bottom lip poked out, her famous pout that usually ends the scoldings from Lando. “She told me you did something inexcusable Lila.” He was serious now, no bullshit, ready to catch lies from her mouth.

“I didn’t mean to hit mama, I promise!” She sobbed harder now. Lando rubbed her back to soothe her. “I didn’t wanna take a nap and she made me.” She kept spewing why she did it.

“Okay, sweetheart, I need you to take a deep breath for me.” Lando mimicked a breath and she followed, a sniffle interrupting. “Can you apologize to mama?” He asked. She nodded and looked to her mum.

“I’m sorry mama, I love you.” She said through a few tears. She reached out and hugged her mum. Lando was not done though. Just because she apologized doesn’t mean she understands it was completely wrong.

“I understand you were frustrated Lila, but you can’t just kick and flail your arms when you’re mad.” Lando started. “You can hurt mama, and I don’t like seeing mama hurt.” He nodded as she listened to him speak. “If you continue acting out, you won’t be able to go to races with me, that was our deal right?” He pulled her aside before he left for testing and told her she needed to behave in order for him to get her tickets.

It was nearly summer break and Silverstone was coming up, a race they’d inevitably would bring her to, but he wanted to scare her into being good so she could go. “You don’t want to miss daddy’s home race do you?” Her mum played along, catching his words bite. Lila shook her head furiously at them.

“I wanna go daddy, I’m sorry, I won’t do it again!” She said hugging him from the counter. He rubbed her back and looked over to his wife. It didn’t take long for her cold to become worse and Lando stayed home with them when they both got sick.

I like doing requests, keep em coming

@il0vereadingstuff

[revelboo]

Your writing of the Constructicons and their reader and how they would differ in treating and interacting with them. Like obviously more gently as they grow more fond of the little squishy but in their own ways.

I see Bonecrusher, the biggest and arguably meanest of the Constructicons, being absolutely so soft and sweet to reader especially after hearing Megatron’s announcement and his complete lack of remorse on inflicting his kink into the gestalt.

He has never known softness so he wants to treat it just as tenderly as the big guy can

He’s a big softy under the gruff exterior. The one that taught the others how to fight and defend themselves so I view him as the overprotective big brother of the group

Drive Pt 7

Constructicons x Reader

• Where are you? Lost you in the underbrush and can’t find you. Aware of the Autobots running for cover and how small you are. That you might get crushed by accident. And lunging with a snarl, they seize Warpath and sling him as hard as they can over the tree line. There. A small shape limping through the trees. Reaching after you only to be attacked by Cliffjumper. Snarling, they’re struggling. Torn between Bonecrusher’s overwhelming urge to go after you and Scrapper’s demand that they deal with the Autobots first. The immediate threat.

• Running as fast as you can with your ankle screaming at you, you’re not sure if you’re running from whatever the Constructicons had become or those mechs that had attacked your guys. Do they even still know you in that form? Because every instinct is screaming that you’re in danger. Staggering, you slap a palm against a tree and cry out when something explodes near enough your ears are ringing, head rattled and confused as dirt peppers you in stinging little strikes. Everything muffled as the smaller red mech runs past, yelling but you can’t make out the words. Then the tree beside you is splintering as a massive hand pushes it over, crying out as the roots split the ground when it goes, knocking you down.

• Too small. Too fragile. Frustrated now that they’ve found you and realize they can’t pick you up. You’re on the ground, eyes dazed and leaking and there’s dirt in your hair. Driving their servos into the ground near you, they scoop you up with the soil, hearing you crying out in alarm. “Safe,” they growl, cupping their other hand over you, turning to get you somewhere far from the bots. Somewhere actually safe. Snarling a warning as they turn, they’re aware of the Autobots hesitating, no longer sure whether or not to attack. Hear one of them yelling that they have a hostage. Long Haul and Scrapper want to stand and fight. Drive the Autobots back. Punish them for tampering with the refinery. Destroy them. Bonecrusher only wants to protect you. They need you and he pushes his will at Scavenger, Hook, and Mixmaster to try and sway the gestalt in his favor.

• Trembling caged in those massive hands, you’re jarred with every step the giant takes. That voice hadn’t belonged to any one of the Constructicons, but it had sounded like all of them speaking as one. And that more than anything reassures you. Shakily standing and reaching up, you lay a palm on the hand caged over you. They’re protecting you, you’re sure of it and it helps calm the fear and uncertainty.

• Feels that impossibly tiny hand touch theirs and that’s all Bonecrusher needs to seize control when they all feel it and hesitate. Retreating quickly with you safe in their hands, they’re too aware of you. How tiny you are right now and how much you need them. Feels when you fall in their hands with a cry, getting jostled despite how careful they’re trying to be. Their thoughts tangling together, needs and desires shared through their link. Once they’re far enough away from their pursuers, they bend to deposit you on the ground and let go of the gestalt. Like always, there’s a moment of disorientation that almost feels like loss amid the exhaustion. And you’re still on the ground, eyes unfocused. Bending to carefully scoop you up, Bonecrusher brushes your temple with a servo. “Not here, they’ll be on us again,” Scrapper growls, sounding disgusted at running and Bonecrusher gets it, but they can fight another day when you’re not at risk. Carrying you cupped to his chassis as he leads the way home, he rumbles softly to you, feeling you curl into yourself.

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[onegayastronaut]

Against All Odds

Requested by anon: Hello! Just recently discovered your stories. They are so amazing. Would be willing to write a Maya x Carina x Reader where reader is surprising Carina at the women’s clinic, and something goes wrong and reader has to protect Carina. Reader ends up injured somehow. Maya is one of the first responders on the scene, and is worried about her loves. If you don’t feel like it, you can totally ignore. Thank you in advance!

Words: 2118

The Seattle drizzle was light but persistent as you pulled your jacket tighter around yourself, standing just outside the entrance of the women’s clinic where Carina worked. Your heart pounded in your chest with a mixture of excitement and nerves. You had spent weeks planning this -- coordinating with Maya, ensuring Carina wouldn’t suspect a thing, and now, finally, you were here to surprise her with lunch and a bouquet of fresh tulips, her favorite.

Taking a steadying breath, you pushed through the doors and stepped into the warmth of the clinic. The smell of antiseptic mixed with something floral greeted you, along with the familiar hum of nurses and patients. You caught sight of one of Carina’s colleagues at the front desk and offered a small smile.

“Hey, is Dr. DeLuca available?” you asked, shifting the bouquet in your arms.

The nurse gave you a knowing smile. “She’s in an exam room, but she should be done soon. Want to wait in her office?”

You nodded, but before you could move, a loud crash echoed from the back of the clinic, followed by a panicked scream. Your blood turned to ice. Every muscle in your body tensed as instinct took over, and you rushed toward the commotion.

Bursting into the hallway, you saw chaos unfolding. A man, angry, eyes wild with desperation, was yelling, his arm raised as he brandished a weapon. He was standing in the middle of the hallway, blocking the path to Carina’s exam room. Fear wrapped around your throat like a vice, but your feet didn’t stop moving. Your only thought was getting to Carina.

The man’s erratic movements and furious shouting made it clear: he was unpredictable and dangerous. You barely had a moment to process before he lunged forward, forcing one of the nurses back against the wall.

Without thinking, you acted. “Hey!” you called out, your voice strong and unwavering despite the fear gripping your chest. “You don’t want to do this.”

The man whipped around to face you, eyes narrowing. “Stay out of this,” he snarled.

But you weren’t going to stay out of it. Not when Carina was in danger. You stepped between him and the corridor leading to the exam rooms, your pulse hammering. “You’re scared,” you said, your voice firm but even. “I get that. But this isn’t the way.”

For a moment, it seemed like he might listen. His posture faltered slightly, his grip on the weapon lessening. Hope flared in your chest. Then something shifted, his grip tightened once more, his expression darkened, and before you could react, he lashed out.

Pain exploded in your side as a burning sensation tore through your chest. You barely registered the sharp, metallic scent of blood before you staggered back, your knees buckling beneath you. The world tilted as you crumpled to the ground, gasping as the pain intensified. A warm, sticky wetness pooled beneath your fingertips as you pressed a trembling hand to your wound.

Distantly, you heard Carina’s voice crying out your name, the raw panic in it cutting through the haze of pain clouding your mind. Her scream was followed by the sound of scuffling—nurses scrambling for cover, the attacker being restrained, voices shouting over one another.

Then, the sound of sirens. Everything blurred together after that. Shadows moving. Voices yelling. A distinct voice echoed through the hall.

“Seattle Fire! Drop your weapon!”

Your vision swam as you tried to lift your head. Through the chaos, you caught sight of Maya in her gear, her face a mask of fear and determination as she took in the scene—the armed man, the trembling nurses, and then you, bleeding out on the floor.

She was at your side in an instant, her hands hovering over you, unsure of where to touch. “Oh my God, baby,” she breathed, her voice breaking as she took in the amount of blood soaking your shirt. “You’re okay. You’re okay, just stay with me.”

Carina was there too, kneeling beside you, her hands shaking as she pressed down on your wound, trying to stop the bleeding. Tears streamed down her face as she muttered desperate pleas in Italian, her voice cracking with emotion.

“You could have died,” she sobbed, her grip tightening. “Oh Dio, there’s so much blood.”

Maya’s jaw clenched as she fought to stay composed, but you could see the terror in her eyes. “We need a medic now!” she shouted to her team, her voice sharp with urgency.

Your breaths were coming in short gasps, your body growing weaker by the second. The pain was suffocating, but even worse was the look of helplessness on Carina’s face, the sheer panic in Maya’s.

“I—” you tried to speak, but the effort sent a searing pain through your chest.

“Shh, don’t talk,” Carina begged, her hands pressing down harder, trying to stop the bleeding. “Save your strength.”

The paramedics arrived in a flurry of motion, quickly assessing your wound and working to stabilize you. As they pressed gauze to your side, your breaths became shallower, more ragged. Your chest heaved, and you suddenly felt like you couldn’t get enough air.

“She’s crashing,” one of the medics called out. “We need to intubate now!”

“No, no, no,” Carina whispered, her body shaking as she watched them work. Maya pulled her into a tight embrace, barely able to keep it together herself.

One of the medics grabbed a laryngoscope and an endotracheal tube, working quickly as they tilted your head back. “Stay with us,” he muttered, before sliding the tube down your throat. The world dimmed, their voices becoming distant echoes.

Carina sobbed into Maya’s chest as they lifted you onto the gurney. “She can’t die, Maya,” she choked out. “She can’t.”

Maya’s face was streaked with tears, her hands clenched into fists. “She won’t,” she said fiercely, but her voice wavered. “She won’t.”

The ambulance doors slammed shut, sirens wailing into the night as they sped toward the hospital.

Carina held Maya’s hand in a death grip in the waiting room, her leg bouncing anxiously. Every second felt like an eternity. The surgeon’s words kept replaying in their heads—‘We’re doing everything we can, but the damage is extensive.’

The hospital air was thick with the scent of antiseptic and worry. The bright, fluorescent lights overhead cast a sterile glow on the pristine, white floors, but to Maya and Carina, the world around them felt anything but clean. It was messy, chaotic, and terrifying.

Maya paced relentlessly, her hands threading through her short blonde hair, nails digging into her scalp as she tried to keep the panic at bay. Her uniform still had your blood on it, but neither of them noticed or cared. Carina sat hunched forward in the uncomfortable waiting room chair, her hands clasped together so tightly that her knuckles had turned white. Neither of them spoke; there was nothing to say.

The image of the you, lying on that stretcher, pale and unconscious, haunted them both. Maya had seen wounds before, had dealt with trauma on the field, but never had she felt so powerless. Never had she watched someone she loved, someone she cherished, bleed out in front of her while she could do nothing but beg her to hold on.

Maya stopped pacing and turned to Carina, her wife’s eyes brimming with unshed tears. It broke her in ways she hadn’t thought possible. Carina was the strong one, the calm one. But tonight, she looked lost, fragile, like she was being held together by sheer willpower alone.

“What if—” Carina started, but she couldn’t finish the sentence. She didn’t have to. Maya knew what she was asking. What if she didn’t make it?

Maya swallowed hard, shaking her head vehemently. “No. Don’t go there. She’s going to be okay. She has to be.”

Carina exhaled shakily and turned her gaze toward the double doors leading to the operating room. “I should be in there. I should be helping.”

“You know you can’t,” Maya said gently, kneeling in front of Carina and taking her trembling hands in her own. “You’re too close. You wouldn’t be able to focus.”

Carina nodded, but the self-loathing in her eyes was evident. “She saved my life, Maya.”

“I know.”

“If she dies—”

“She won’t.” Maya’s voice cracked, betraying her own fear. She clenched her jaw, squeezing Carina’s hands tightly as if she could anchor them both with her strength alone. “She’s strong. She’ll fight. She’ll come back to us.”

Carina leaned forward, resting her forehead against Maya’s, their breaths mingling, sharing in the silent devastation of waiting. Hours passed, though time felt meaningless. Nurses walked by, doctors hurried past, and still, there was no news. Every second felt like a lifetime.

Then, finally, a surgeon emerged, their scrubs stained with blood—too much blood. Maya and Carina both shot to their feet, their hearts hammering violently in their chests.

“Is she—” Carina’s voice wavered.

The doctor exhaled, pulling down their mask. “She made it through surgery.”

Maya felt her knees almost buckle, relief washing over her so intensely that she could barely breathe. Carina clutched her arm, sobbing openly.

“She lost a lot of blood,” the doctor continued, “and the next twenty-four hours are critical. But she fought. She’s fighting.”

Maya wiped at her eyes, nodding rapidly. “Can we see her?”

The doctor hesitated before nodding. “Only for a moment. She’s still unconscious.”

Maya and Carina didn’t wait for further instructions. They all but ran down the hall, ignoring the stares from the staff. When they reached the room, their breath hitched at the sight before them. You lay still, your face too pale, your chest rising and falling shallowly under the thin hospital gown. An IV dripped fluids into your arm, machines beeped softly, and bandages covered the wound that had nearly stolen you away.

Carina was the first to move, gently brushing a trembling hand over your forehead. “Amore mio,” she whispered, voice breaking. “You’re safe now.”

Maya stood on the other side of you, her fingers wrapping around your limp hand. “We’re here. We’re not going anywhere.”

The hours stretched endlessly as Maya and Carina kept vigil by your side, refusing to leave even as nurses urged them to rest. The machines beeped in rhythmic reassurance, each sound a reminder that you were still with them.

Maya watched every flicker of your eyelids, every slight movement, willing you to wake up. Carina whispered soft reassurances in Italian, her hand never leaving yours. The pain of almost losing you still sat heavily in the air, unspoken but suffocating.

Through the night, Maya found herself thinking back to every moment you had shared, every time you had made them laugh, every little gesture of love you had exchanged. How could the world have almost taken you away from them?

The rhythmic beeping of a heart monitor was the first thing you registered when you woke up. Your body felt heavy, your throat raw from the breathing tube, and your side throbbed dully under the influence of pain medication. Blinking slowly, you tried to focus, your gaze landing on two familiar figures beside your hospital bed.

Carina was curled up in the chair, her face buried in her hands, silent tears slipping through her fingers. Maya sat on the other side, her hand clutching yours as if afraid you might disappear if she let go. Her usually confident demeanor was gone, replaced by exhaustion and fear.

As you stirred, both women immediately snapped to attention.

“Amore?” Carina whispered, her voice hoarse from crying.

Maya exhaled sharply, squeezing your hand. “Jesus Christ, you scared the hell out of us.”

Carina let out a soft sob of relief, leaning down to press a kiss against your temple. “You almost died,” she murmured. “But you’re still here.”

Maya pressed a lingering kiss to your forehead. “Next time, just stick to the flowers, okay?”

You chuckled weakly. “No promises.”

Weeks later, you finally returned home. Maya had arranged the pillows on the couch just right, and Carina had stocked the fridge with all your favorite meals. They hovered, doting over you, making sure you were comfortable, making sure you knew just how much they loved you.

One night, as you lay curled between them on the couch, Carina kissed your temple softly. "You scared us so much, amore. But you’re here. You’re safe."

Maya tightened her arms around you. "And you’re not going anywhere," she said. "We have you now. Always."

You sighed contentedly, letting yourself sink into their warmth. Healing would take time, but with them, you knew you’d never have to do it alone.