#Caught by a Wave (2021)

[papaya-twinks]

red hot chilli 🌶️ - l.n - part 1

Warnings: swearing, badly translated spanish

Pairing: Lando Norris x fem!reader

A/N - I’m actually really excited for this series <33, it was my birthday on the 31st so this is kinda like a present for y’all. I also was way too impatient in waiting to post this.

Flashback

Your brother, Carlos, had joined McLaren in 2019, his teammate being the young rookie, Lando Norris. You weren’t awfully interested in motorsports, though you did pay attention to it, as your family was based around it, but your heart was somewhere else.

Unfortunately for you, Carlos had managed to pull your nose out of a book, dragging you all the way to the MTC to meet some of the important team members of the team, including Zak Brown, Andreas Seidl and of course, his new teammate, Lando.

You were 18, young yet you already had your head down in books half the time, far more focused on your studying than anything else. You’d taken up art history when you were younger, your passion for the subject only growing and growing throughout the years.

“Y/N,” Zak shook your hand as you smiled warmly to him, “a pleasure to meet you,”. Behind Zak was Andreas, who too shook your hand as Carlos stood proudly by your side. “Hermana (sister),” Carlos said, placing a hand on your shoulder and turning your body.

“This is Lando,” he said, your gaze falling onto the boy. He had brunette, somewhat wavy hair, greenish-blue eyes, two perfect beauty marks on his face and looked rather scrawny. Not what you’d imagine an F1 driver to look like.

“Hi,” you said, shaking his hand as well. Well, if the team trusted he’d be good, who were you to judge? “Hi,” he said back to you, his voice a little shy, though you could hear the hint of Belgian mixing fluidly with British.

Five Years Later

Overtime, anyone with eyes could see just how well Lando and Carlos had bonded during their time as teammates. Three whole years, coming up to the end of the 2021 season, til they’d say their goodbyes in Abu Dhabi, and Carlos would move on.

You hadn’t attended all too many races, still being far too caught up in your studies to truly attend, though you did watch the races at home. A Lando was good, as was Carlos. You had spoken to Lando a few times on the rare occasion you did attend races, but never a lot.

He was still the scrawny boy you’d first met back in 2019. And shortly, toward the end of the 2021 season, you stopped attending races. Your studying had taken over basically your entire life, always reading and writing and finishing reports…nothing like what someone would imagine art history to be like.

Yet throughout the years, Lando and Carlos had remained friends, golfing together, eating out together, doing loads together. But no you in sight.

And finally, as the start of the 2024 season made way into your life, you finished your studies. You had a one year break from all the studying, as it was best for both your health and overall, and you gladly took it with both hands.

“Hi,” you said, giving a smile to both Charles and Carlos’ girlfriends as they both gave you quick hugs. “It’s nice to finally meet you,” Rebecca said, as she gave your hand a small squeeze. You nodded to here, letting her admire your gorgeous red minidress and heels.

You had chosen the colour to support your brother at the first face you could attend that season, which was the Australian Grand Prix. And lo and behold, after Carlos had recovered from his spout of appendicitis, he won the race.

“You’re like his lucky charm!” Alex shouted into your ear over the celebrations of the team as they all rushed out to congratulate your brother. You smiled to her, following her to the pen where the cars were parked up. And that was when you locked eyes with him.

For the second time in your life, Lando Norris had walked, or rather stumbled, as he clambered out the car, into your life. You expected him to still be the scrawny little kid you’d met in 2019, with tousled waves, which were more straight than curled, and bright green eyes.

You couldn’t help but watch as he removed his helmet, your jaw a little slack as you tried not to stare. What a change…from his old self, to this? He looked…he looked great. Gone were the brunette waves, and in with the perfect, slightly tousled curls…he looked….older, but in a good way.

“Hi,” he said, his eyebrows creased together as he walked up to you, accepting the hugs from his team. After all, you were conveniently right beside his team. “Hi,” you responded, his eyes scanning your face as he blinked for a second, “sorry, do I know you? It’s just, you look awfully familiar,”.

Oh.

He didn’t remember you? Well, you hardly expected him to. You’d seen him once, spoken rarely, and always had your nose in a book. It wasn’t his fault for forgetting. “No,” you said quickly, probably not what you should’ve said.

“Right,” he said, giving you a confused smile before he walked off to get interviewed. “You good?” Rebecca whispered into your ear after she’d congratulated Carlos. “Yeah, yeah, fine,” you said, waving it off as she hummed but said nothing further.

“Yo, dude,” Lando said, following Carlos off the podium, as he jogged to go catch up with the Spaniard. “What’s up?” Carlos said, raising a brow as he handed one of the team personnel his trophy, Lando doing the same.

“Just wondering,” Lando said, trying his best to act nonchalant thought failing miserable, “how does my hair look?”. Well where was this coming from, then? “Shit,” Carlos responded, as Lando rolled his eyes, turning on his heel and walking off to rush down the paddock.

It was his intention to go and find you as soon as possible, and ask for your damn number. He didn’t have time for all the details like he usually did with his others girls, something about you was, well, different.

And then he saw you - walking down the paddock beside both the Ferrari driver’s girlfriends, Alex and Rebecca, deep in conversation. He couldn’t hear what you were saying and he didn’t want to get too close in fear of getting spotted, as he strained his ears to hear.

“Podium…orange…fast…book,” those were the few words Lando managed to pick up from your gorgeous lips, before suddenly…clang.

You looked up from your conversation with the girls upon hearing the loud bash of something hitting metal, your eyes wide as you spotted Lando on the floor, clutching his forehead. Great. Great impression, Norris, walking straight into a metal beam.

“God, are you okay?” you gasped, kneeling down beside him as he opened his eyes, blinking a few times as the sun cast its rays over your face. “God, yeah,” he said, rubbing his forehead, eyes fixed on yours in ill-concealed awe.

“Perfect now…I mean, uh, I’m good,” he corrected himself as you blinked, holding a hand to help him stand up. “Right…” you said slowly as he stumbled up, adjusting his team polo. His orange team polo. Had you been talking about him? No, surely not.

Well, he wanted your attention, and that was one way to get it.

A/N - likes/comments/reblogs are appreciated xxx

[cellophaine]

Chapter I: SERVE

Masterlist

Pairing: Art Donaldson x F!Reader

Word Count: 2377.

Warnings: None.

Author's Note: The first chapter is here!! I'm so excited to finally release this as this idea formed in my head a while ago and it's been itching to take shape. I hope you will enjoy this chapter and stay for the messiness of it all!

GIF Source: @harcive

2021. San Francisco.

Your bedroom, 2 AM. Outside, the storm raged. The whistling notes of winds pried their way inside through the seams of the window. You lay on your side, watching the maidenhair tree as its leaves and branches were torn in different directions, but the thick trunk barely wavered. The constant pattering of rain running along the window soothed your troubling mind.

Another sleepless night.

It was also raining like this on the day that you met him. Perhaps it was nostalgia, maybe it was your indulgence of self-loathe, either way, you often recalled that day over the years, long after it was over, thinking about how cruel fate was even though you didn’t believe in it. You often thought about how had you listened to the weather forecast on that portent day, there wouldn’t be so many sleepless nights.

2006. Stanford University.

The angry and ruthless storm swept over the campus’ ground, painting a murky varnish over the courtyard. You didn’t bring an umbrella. The cafeteria was almost empty with the exception of some other unfortunate souls like yours. Your messenger bag wouldn’t survive in this rain with its metal clasps broken and glued together, its nylon strap peeling off along the edge, and its canvas surface thinning.

You chose a seat by the big bay window overlooking the courtyard. The rain railed on the glass panels, loud and blurred together in a clashing harmony. The perfect background for your wandering thoughts while you stared out the window. You had a shift at the coffee shop on Friday, then the weekend to yourself. The library’s copy of Mrs. Dalloway was due the following Friday, but you didn’t need that much time. You could finish it this weekend. You should return your mom’s missed call and your dad’s message. Probably more of what you didn’t want to hear, but you should respond nonetheless.

Out of the peripheral of your vision, a moving silhouette headed in your direction. You ignored it until they stopped at your table, far enough that you couldn’t touch them if you reached out, but close enough to make your head turn. Your eyes caught onto the white shirt before skipping along the length of the torso before reaching the face. You were taken aback by his appearance, and most of all, his piercing eyes on you.

“Hi. May I sit here?”

He had a half smile that softened the outer corners of his eyes. Blond locks swept all over, framing his face in tousled waves. A sharp jaw that your eyes couldn’t help but trace along. He was cute. There was an easy air about him that almost disarmed the guard you placed when it came to strangers. Almost.

Your eyes quickly flitted around the nearly empty cafeteria involuntarily as if to signal that there were other seats he could take. But you nodded regardless with a thinly veiled hesitance and watched as he took his seat across the table. You wondered what he wanted from you.

“Looks like we’re stuck here for a while.”

You bobbed your head in agreement.

“Yeah. I should’ve brought an umbrella.”

“Me too. It doesn’t rain very often so I thought today would be one of those days, you know? Should’ve listened to the forecast.”

You hummed noncommittally and turned your head towards the window again. He moved a little in his seat as if he was trying to pull at your attention physically.

“I saw you sitting alone from over there, and uh … I thought you might want some company.”

Your eyes squinted at that and watched as he reached over the table.

“My name’s Art. Art Donaldson.”

You shook his hand and told him your name. His name stirred at a memory in the back of your mind.

“I know you. I mean, I’ve heard of you.”

His face lit up ever so slightly at that.

“Yeah?”

You nodded.

“Your name is mentioned pretty often, especially whenever tennis comes up. Some people in my class seem to be fans of yours.”

He chuckled, the sound warm and light.

“What about you? Are you a fan of me?”

You pretended to think about it and shook your head.

“Ouch.”

You held up a hand in defence.

“Hey. I’m just not a sports person.”

“That’s fair. We’re pretty annoying anyway.”

You blurted out before you could stop yourself.

“Yeah, I can tell.”

Your eyes widened in disbelief. You could see the way his smile dropped, the way his body went still, and guilt trickled in rapidly until it was a big, sweeping wave.

“I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to say it out loud.”

“So you were thinking it?”

“Yes, I mean, no, but kinda?"

Art only stared at you. You straightened in your seat.

"Look, I'm sorry, okay? It just came out, I honestly don’t mean anything by it. My roommates said that I’m very sarcastic and if you don’t know me you might think I’m very mean but honestly I really don’t mean it I’m so so sorry …”

You trailed off as Art’s smile grew until his body shook with the sound of his chuckle. It was you that stared now. Your heart was pounding, nerves pulled tight across all directions, unsure of where they were heading.

"Uh …"

Your voice wavered, and you cleared your throat. Art waved a hand dismissively.

“Don’t worry about it. No offence taken.”

The joy he seemed to get from your momentary despair cast his face in an endearing light. You found yourself staring at the way his eyes crinkled, the way his lips quirked up, one side higher than the other.

“Still. It was rude of me.”

Art looked at your rueful expression, and you could almost tell the moment his light bulb went on.

“You’ll have to make it up to me.”

“What?”

He leaned forward. He was now halfway over the small table.

“To fix my broken ego. You’ve just destroyed it, after all.”

You fixed your eyes on his and met him in the middle, turning the distance into proximity.

“You know what they say about having a fragile ego?”

"What do they say?"

"Hm, I thought you knew already."

Art held your gaze for a long moment, searching for your tell. You couldn't hold the grin back, and he mirrored you, understanding your sarcastic nature a little more now. You broke away first and stood up, eyes roaming around the cafeteria and eventually landed on the food counter. You turned to look at Art, jerking your chin towards the other side of the room.

“Alright, let’s go. Whatever you want, on me.”

Art chose funnel cake fries with vanilla ice cream. You could feel his eyes on you as you smoothed out the slightly crumbled bills, counted the change and gave it to the woman behind the counter. His gaze made you feel a little insecure. You kept your eyes on the woman as you thanked her.

“Anything on it?”

She held up the paper box. Art turned to you and asked if you wanted anything. You said caramel sauce absent-mindedly as you put your wallet back in your pocket. After a generous drizzle, she passed the box to Art, along with two spoons.

“Wait, it’s your treat. Why did you ask me what I wanted on it?”

He shrugged as if the answer was obvious.

“I thought we could share.”

You returned to the table. The rain had calmed down, reduced to a light shower. It took some convincing from Art as you refused to have some as it was your treat for him, but eventually, you shared the first few bites in silence. You tried not to pay too much attention to his lips every time he licked the spoon when Art broke the voiceless air and asked about your major. English, you said, as your parents dismissed and scorned. Despite their disapproval and incessant attempts to convince you otherwise, you still wanted to be a published author, dreaming of seeing your name on the shelves one day.

“The scholarship helped a lot. If it wasn’t for it, my parents would have forced me to stay home and attend the community college there.”

“I'm guessing you didn't want that?”

“Not at all. And don't get me wrong, there's nothing wrong with the college back home, but …"

You considered our next words properly. A cold feeling crept up your spine, but you found the words that you'd never had the courage to say out loud before tumbling out.

"I just don’t want to be stuck there, you know? In the same place that I grew up in for years and years on end with my parents, and it's …”

You met Art's eyes to find that he was staring at you. All of a sudden, the cold became unbearable, and you felt so uneasy that you felt an instinctual urge to physically press your lips together to prevent anything else from slipping out. The baggage was too much for someone you met not even an hour ago. You cleared your throat.

“Anyway, what about you? Are you going to be a pro tennis player?”

Art's brows slightly furrowed, and he took a moment before responding. He seemed to sense your discomfort, but he let it go. You felt the weight eased off your stomach, feeling grateful that Art chose not to pursue the topic further.

"Yeah, I hope so."

"Is it something you've always wanted to do?"

He thought about it for a brief moment.

"I … think so. It's something I've known for a long time, and very well."

You nodded, taking another spoonful of ice cream.

"Okay, maybe not as well as my friend Patrick."

"Tell me about him."

The funnel fry stopped just before it reached Art's mouth.

"Why? Are you interested in him?"

“Sure am. I’m the kind of girl that needs more information on a guy before expressing my interest. So tell me."

A small frown formed on his lips. His hand made a slow descent to the table, the fry forgotten. He looked like a kicked puppy, and you felt bad for your harmless joke. You reached for his hand, giving it a squeeze.

"Art. I'm joking."

He took your words in, and an amused smile slowly spread across his lips. With the other unoccupied hand, he rubbed on his ear, which drew your attention to it as it turned into a faint shade of pink. He cleared his throat, and you pulled your hand away.

"Uh– okay! So … Patrick."

You nodded, encouraging him to continue. He told you about the Mark Rebellato Academy, how Patrick was his roommate and became his best friend, how they played tennis together and made …

"Fire and Ice?"

Art nodded.

"Who's who?"

"He's Fire, and I'm Ice."

"So when you're together, what do you make? Warm water?"

"Okay, when you put it like that, it doesn't sound very exciting. But we're good, I promise."

You put the spoon down, decided that you were done with the dessert and let Art finish the rest.

"When can I see you guys play together?"

Art thought about it for a moment.

"I don't think it'll happen soon. He's trying to pro, and he's busy with a tour right now."

"I see."

The rain had ceased to light mist, which made Art's silence became palpable.

"Do you miss him?"

"I– I'm happy for him, I am. He's doing exactly what he has always wanted to do, which is becoming a pro and not having to concern himself with a degree, but …"

"You wish he was here, playing tennis with you. Like how you used to."

Art nodded. You felt the air become heavier, so you switched it up.

"What about your family? They must come to your game to support you?"

Art smiled, but his voice was tinged with a sadness that made you regret even asking.

"My grandma asks me about every game I've ever played. And, uh … my parents enrolled me in Mark Rebellato, but they don't really come to my games. They don't … ask me about them, either."

The silence thickened like honey, but it wasn't confining. A tangible thread of mutual understanding wrapped around you, binding you together across the small table. You couldn't bring yourself to say something, anything, but when your eyes locked, the kindness in his eyes assured you that you didn't have to.

You blinked and allowed the quiet moment to slip through your fingers.

"I have a question for you."

He gestured for you to go ahead.

“Why me?”

“What do you mean?”

You arched a brow.

“You know what I'm talking about. There are other girls in there. Why did you choose me?”

“Just wanted to introduce myself to the prettiest girl here.”

You rolled your eyes at his smirk. He picked up the last funnel fry and popped it into his mouth.

“Do you really use that line on every girl you've met? Has it ever worked?”

“No, not every girl. And, you tell me.”

You shook your head, trying to fend off the inevitable smile that tugged on a corner of your lips.

“It’s not working.”

You said before standing up. Outside, the rain had cleared for the sun to poke through. Taking the empty box and cutlery, you put everything in the trash bin nearby while Art was still sitting.

“I guess I’ll have to get your phone number.”

You returned to the table, where Art looked up at you with that playful look.

"Why?"

"So I can prove myself to you."

“There’s no need. I’m sure I’ll see you again around the campus anyway.”

You picked up your bag, signifying the end of your talk. Art sprung off the seat as if it was on fire.

"But–"

You placed a hand on his shoulder and applied the tiniest bit of pressure.

“This has been enjoyable, really. I’ll see you around, Art.”

You offered him a smile before letting your hand drop. You didn’t look back once when you walked away despite the urge to have a final good look of him. Art gathered his bag, his hand reached inside and grasped the umbrella lying amongst the notebooks, his eyes followed you until you disappeared.

Likes, reblogs, and comments are greatly appreciated! I'd love to read your thoughts on the story!

For updates, please follow @cellophaine-archives

[missmimii]

✪ 𝐁𝐋𝐀𝐒𝐓 𝐅𝐑𝐎𝐌 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐏𝐀𝐒𝐓- 𝐂~𝐒𝐓𝐔𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐎𝐋𝐎

୨ৎ － 𝐒𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬 - In which the two ex high-school sweethearts cross paths in their final night in Las Vegas, tension from their pasts building as they make the last night the most memorable.

୨ৎ — 𝐂𝐖. 18+, dom!matt, fem!reader, smut, language, public(kinda?) dirty talk, light degradation, pet names, teasing, light fluff, risky sexual encounter, fingering, detailed intercourse.

✩－ℳ𝒾𝓂𝒿’𝓈 𝓃ℴ𝓉ℯ | I’m not a huge fan of this, and I’m still working on improving my smut, but it’ll have to surface because if I have to edit this one more time, I’ll probably die.

୨ৎ －Graduating Class of 2021 －୨ৎ

✰－ Since kindergarten Y/n had dreamt of the day she officially entered adulthood. She found the idea of being bossed around by adults had been overwhelming, and being bribed into eating green vegetables that looked disgusting, was unethical. In the little girls head, being an adult was being free. And freedom to Y/n, was graduating high-school.

－ Never once did the girl think she’d find herself filled with more joy seeing a boy cross the stage, more than herself. But here she was, tears threatening to fall down her cheeks dramatically as she watched the brunette boy cross the stage. Chris shook hands with the grey haired man before gently taking his diploma, holding up the certificate proudly.

✰－ The blue cap that rested atop his head of tousled hair slid down every now and then, making the triplet’s hand fly up to steady the awkward position. Y/n had resisted the urge to giggle every time she saw the pink tint his cheeks, knowing exactly what the shyness had been stemming from. God, he was so pissed about wearing the gown.

－ She laughed over the tears, sniffling as she watched him awkwardly smile toward the crowd of parents. “Your boyfriend is such a dork, Y/n.” Nick, who stood aside the girl snorted, saying the silly remark as if it wasn’t his little brother. Seconds before Chris had stepped onto the stage, Y/n had walked across. She’d been practicing that damn walk for months, keeping her posture perfect as she smiled and waved with etiquette.

✰－ And during the full 43 seconds she stood on the podium, Chris watched from the crowd, waving his two hands in the air while grinning like a fool. “That’s my girlfriend!” He screamed, numerous times. The girl, not being one for the spotlight, slouched in the centre of attention, her cheeks flushing.

－Nick leaned back on the bench beside her, eyeing up his triplet with a mischievous glint his eyes. Y/n looked at the eldest brother for a second, giving a second glance as she caught sight of the smirk on his lips. “What’s the look?” She inquired, her own lips tipping up slightly. He shrugged, grinning as he stood up from the bench, making the girls eyes widen. “Nick,” She warned, reaching out to grab his hand.

✰－ “That’s Y/n’s boyfriend!” He shouted in between laughs, making the girls jar drop open. “Oh my god, Nick!” She attempted to pull him down into a sitting position through laughs, eventually giving up as she realized he wasn’t budging. Chris’s cheeks almost immediately reddened, eyes darting throughout the large crowd of people, now staring at him.

－Chris’s hat, once again, slipped from his head. “Shit,” he cursed to himself, catching it before it fell. The grey haired man who stood beside him gaped at the foul language, making Chris’s face pale. Oh he was so dead. The triplet’s eyes roamed the crowd, prepared to send a glare to eldest, but instead was met with her.

✰－ He watched as her knees bent as she laughed, one hand gripping Nick’s as the two laughed at the scene he’d caused. Her hair blew flawlessly in the wind, and he swore he could almost smell the coconut aroma it carried. It suddenly occurred to him that the girl he once lamely asked out in freshman year, wasn’t the same as the one he gazed at now. She’d grew a full foot, the god awful jaw length haircut, now grown into wavy tendrils that swayed below her shoulders.

－And him. Chris had even changed. His heart fell with an unsettling emotion as he realized time had flown by, memories of the past seemingly vanished. The buzz-cut he constantly sported had now grown out into its thick brown tendrils, and he even had a job. Chris’s eyes glazed over with tears, that he at first fought back, but failed beautifully. He wasn’t a kid anymore. And she wasn’t the same girl he fell in love with as children, now matured into a perfect young woman.

✰－Chris felt the principal pat his shoulder and say something that went deaf to the boys ears. “You’re set, Sturniolo.” But he wasn’t done. The males hand rose to shield the crowd from his sensitive state, index and middle finger rubbing his one eye as he felt tears coat his lower lash line.

－Y/n watched the boy’s head lower, as well as the motion of his chest moving up and down increase in pace. Oh. She could’ve spotted the body language of his anywhere, the mannerisms he carried looking awfully close to the ones he’d use when overwhelmed or upset. “Sorry, sorry.” She whispered to a few parents as she slipped past them through the rows of bleachers, aiming straight the short steps at the end of the stadium.

✰－“Baby,” she breathed out softly, a sympathetic smile on her lips as she stood at the last step. Chris silently wiped the wetness away as he met her at the last stair. “what’s wrong?” Her hand reached out to carefully remove the graduation cap from his trembling palm.

－Getting on her tippy toes, the girl threaded her one hand through his disheveled locks, pushing the brown strands away from his lashes. The sweet touch, that was meant to soothe the boy, did the exact opposite. More tears threatened to fall as he felt her nails scrape against his scalp comfortably, knowing it would be the one of the last times he’d feel it. “Are these happy tears?” She murmured in an undertone, tilting her head up at him.

✰－ Again, he just shook his head, knowing that if he were to speak he’d end up a blubbering mess. Chris pressed the ends of his index finger and thumb into the corners of his eyes, praying his girlfriend wouldn’t have to see him so fucking weak.

－A part of the girl’s heart tore off as she saw the pink in his eyes, the glaze of water that coated both of them as he avoided eye contact. “Awh, baby.” She cooed softly, using her thumb to swipe away the pool of tears just below his lower lash line. Chris kept on shaking his head, over and over. She didn’t understand quite why, watching as he continued to repeat the action.

✰－It didn’t matter to her though, she just wanted Chris to know she was there. “I’m such a fuckin’ loser.” Chris scoffed to himself, lips quirking up as his chest shook with a few laughs. His blue eyes looked heavenward for a moment, before the slid back down to his girlfriend. “will you marry me?” He blurted out.

－The girls mouth went ajar as she let Chris’s hand fall from her own. “Sorry- what?” Chris spotted the horror on her face, making him instantly reach out of cup her cheeks. “hey- not like now,” the triplet rushed out, pulling her closer. “I just saw you in the crowd and I realized how fast everything went by- yesterday we were seniors in high school and now you’re leaving for college while I- do other things.” What?

✰－“wait- what do you mean?” She shook her head, face scrunched with confusion. Chris’s shoulders dropped with a sigh, before he tugged her closer once more. His lips pressed against hers softly, a far contrast between the usual quick and meaningless ones he’d give her passing in the halls of school. More tears threaten to fall as he squeezed his eyes shut, his thumb moving back and forth against the side of her cheek as he finally pulled away.

－Resting his forehead against hers, “I don’t think I could ever live a life that’s not with you.” Chris whispered, lips flushed as he ran his tongue along the bottom one. Y/n looked into his eyes for a solid ten seconds, throat bobbing as she took in his words.

“Marry me? Someday, today, tomorrow? Hell- marry me three years from now.”

✪ Current year － Vegas, Nevada ✪

✪ The girls arms rested on the cold island countertop, grimacing at the sticky feeling of of spilled alcohol under her forearms. “Jesus.” She mumbled to herself, looking around discreetly while reaching a hand down to tug the skirt further down, desperate for some kind of extra coverage.

－How short does a skirt have to be until it’s considered a belt?

✪ Y/n rolled her eyes, sensing that the material hadn’t covered much more from the attempt. An orange hue lit the venue, the aroma of heavy liquor and cigar smoke engulfing the girl’s nose. Jewels from chandeliers above glimmered along the ceiling, reflecting against the crystal glasses behind the bar.

－ The girl had been standing in the exact same spot for over twenty minutes, making her feel the lamest she could ever imagine. She was at a wedding for goodness sake. Everyone was mingling around, dancing, before sneaking off to throw back a few shots to numb the embarrassment of their god awful moves.

✪ And then there was Y/n. Swirling a cocktail straw around her strawberry daiquiri while her thoughts drifted off into space. How is it that everyone here knows everyone else? It was as if they’d gotten together prior to the ceremony and told each other their life story’s. Conversing, dancing － taking shots off of each other’s midriffs.

－ “You’ve been sitting here for a while,” Her head rose with widened eyes as the blonde bartender approached from behind the counter, throwing a small towel over his shoulder. “could I pour ya’ anything else?” Even this guy knows I’m a poor excuse for a wedding guest.

✪ Clearing her throat, she sat up further in the barstool. “Uh- I’m alright.” The girl past off, sending him a small smile. He nodded, waving his hand in the way of her forearms. “Do you mind..” he rose a brow. The girl looked at him for a few seconds, before the stupid little lightbulb in her head practically shattered. “Oh.” She mumbled, moving her arms from the counter as he swiped a cloth across the surface.

－In the girl’s short experience, she’d gathered that Vegas wasn’t what people had raved about. Sure, it had its spark, and she’d be a liar to say she wasn’t having fun, but it wasn’t … it. She’d spent far too much money on poker, encounter many Elvis impersonators, and got into lots of drunk escapades.

✪ And her excuse was always the same thing. It’s Vegas. When she got cuffed behind a Sephora for dumpster diving for the shoes she’d accidentally tossed in, it’s Vegas she told the officers. When her friend poured a glass of rum & coke on a douche who was hitting on her, it’s fucking Vegas.

－ And she had to give it to the newlyweds, the wedding was absolutely gorgeous.

✪ Y/n tipped back the remaining liquid in her class, humming to herself softly as she swirled an ice cube around her tongue. “Thank you for enduring me during these last few hours.” The girl mumbled mostly to herself, sliding the glass back onto the marble countertop. Her Saint Laurent heels scraped the backs of her ankles irritably, a painful contrast the usual air forces she’d sport on a regular basis. Rose petals sticking to the pointed backs of the black shoes as she stalked across the venue, cursing to herself while adjusting the slim fitting top that hugged her chest.

－ How am I even breathing? She pondered to herself.

✪ She made her way to the closest exit, pushing the door open as she stumbled in her heels. “Holy.” Making a soft thud behind her, the door slowly closed behind her as she leaned against the concrete wall. The brightness of her phone screen illuminated against her face as she held her finger on the power button.

－ Stay on task. 12:38 AM, she read across the screen, eyes widening. “I’ve been here for six hours?” Jesus. Her thumb swiped up on the screen, showing the icon to type in her passcode after Face ID had declined due to the darkness outdoors.

✪ She watched as dozens upon dozens of messages popped down the top of her screen, all from Alyssa, a friend who was also attending the wedding with Y/n. Where are you?, Are you dead?, answer me. Most of the messages contained the same wording, the last one catching the girl’s attention. Holy shit

－ The girls eyes flew open as she read the hoards of texts, Alyssa, a childhood friend of Y/n’s, sending text after text. Most of which containing the same context. Where are you?, are you dead?, answer me. It wasn’t until Y/n read the last message that she felt her jaw drop, as well as her heart.

‘Chris fucking Sturniolo just walked past me and Leah’

✪ The name had trouble written all over it, memories from the past revealing themselves in the girls head as she realized that she was in the same city as him. It had been at least three years since she’d faced the boy, the period of time not nearly long enough.

－ Her skin ached as she remembered the faint of his touch, remembering every single inch of her body that he grazed his sinful hands upon before the fallout. The freckle neck to her left eye, his lips pressed against the beauty mark below her lip, his one hand shakily gliding up her pink camisole while the other drifted below the lace of her first thong. The whispered apologies against her neck as she came undone below him.

‘I’m so sorry’

✪ Y/n inhaled with a shiver, a pit building in her stomach as she fought both arousal and pain. Tears begged to fall as she leaned off the brick wall, brushing the hairs that had fallen from her ponytail from her cheeks. “Shit.” She whispered, voice wavering as she stared at the door. Do I even go back in?

－ She suddenly remembered the gift she had for the bride, the small box with diamond earrings lying in the girls purse. Fuck me. Her hand gripped the door handle, softly shoving it open before briskly stepping onto the marble flooring. Music still played throughout the huge venue, few people dancing along to an oldie.

✪ Dizziness clouded her vision as she walked past many tall brown haired men, knowing that one of them is －or could be him. was this affecting her so damn much? It’d been years, years that should’ve been filled with healing and forgiveness.

Either of which never took place, the void of him filled with resentment and hatred.

－ Her chest tightened from both the top she wore, and the stress of her current dilemma. Fuck everything, fuck me and fuck Christopher Sturniolo － “Jesus!” The girl gasped and stumbled as she slammed into a hard chest, her phone clattering to the ground with a crack. “no, no no －” she bent down, brushing her hair from her face in frustration as she reached to grab her now shattered phone.

✪ A grunt was heard from behind her, before a deeper voice spoke in a quieter octave. “Y/n －stand up.” That voice .. Y/n’s entire body froze, doing the exact opposite of the man’s demand as she felt her skin go ice cold with goosebumps. You’ve got to be fucking kidding.

－ Chris’s hand twitched in the pocket of his slacks, before slipping from the fabric and tugging at his tie. It was merely a gesture to help him from grabbing the girl by her hips, forcing her body upright so he wouldn’t have walk around all night, hot and bothered as he fought the memories of her bent over, ass slipping from the obscenely short skirt.

God, he needed to repent.

✪ The girl winced as she swiped her phone from the ground, shards of glass prickling her palm as she stood. “What’re you, following me?” Y/n grumbled, spinning around with a glare plastered across her face. Chris’s eyes narrowed at the accusation. She’s .. changed. Running a hand across his jaw, he replied after taking in her inquiry. “Cocky of you to assume I’d pay that much mind on you.” He murmured, lifting a brow.

－ Y/n’s mouth fell open at his words, hating how the distasteful remark made her feel. Who the hell does he think he is? The girl’s jaw rolled as she looked away, holding in the scoff that sat on the tip of her tongue. “I’m not cocky, I’m correct.” Both of his eyebrows rose at her words, but failed to reply as she stormed past him, her shoulder slamming against his. Feisty, he thought, the grin of amusement growing.

✪ Chris’s impulsive part of his brain blurred between the critical thought process, anger filling his chest as he turn around. “Running away like usual?” He said before she made it any it further. Y/n halted, jaw clenching as well as her fists as the words registered in her head. Sucking in a deep breath, she slowly turned back to the male. His eyes widened slightly as she stalked back toward him, daggers thrown his way.

－ Oh－ her hand gripped his yellow tie as she appeared in front of him, tugging the fabric with a harsh pull. “You are such a dick.” The girl hissed in an undertone, not wanting to make a scene at her friends wedding. “And fuck you,” Chris cocked his head as he waited for her to go on, only making the girl’s anger grow by ten. “you knew I’d be here- Maddison’s my friend too.”

✪ Chris ran his tongue along his bottom lip, withholding the urge to smile at her amusing behaviour. She wasn’t like this in high school. It was almost －refreshing. “Someone’s finally grew a backbone.” And like that, a switch flicked in her head.

－ Within seconds Chris felt a pain erupt on the left side of his jaw, the girl’s hand lowering to her side with a shouting pain going down it. Holy fuck －I didn’t do that. He went silent for a moment, rolling his jaw as an attempt to relieve the pain and discomfort. “hm,” Chris hummed, tasting the iron in his mouth as he slid his eyes back to Y/n’s. “Sweet.” He uttered.

✪ Shoulders falling, she let out a aspirated sigh while spinning around. She could never win, at least not when it came to Chris. Chris watched as she sulked away, catching sight of her hand raising to shield her face as she crossed paths with friends and strangers. She was crying. He knew it from the way she walked with a stumble, and the way the hand by her side shook gently.

“Fuck me.”

－ His eyes flicked around the room for a moment to make sure his brothers were out of sight, knowing that if they saw him chasing after her of all people, they’d lecture him until the end of time. He’d never hear the end of it, you were supposed to let her go, Chris, you promised to let her heal.

✪ And the worse part was that it was true. He should let her heal, let her find someone who is capable of loving her in all the ways she deserves. Because after all, if he couldn’t, then it he needed to let someone do it for him. The triplet would’ve been a liar to say he hadn’t lurked on her social media accounts over the years, not regularly －maybe every few months. He’d stare at the pictures of her and her friends, a cheesy smile on her lips that he knew －felt, was fake. And it killed him.

－ It broke every single piece of the male’s heart, knowing that she couldn’t be completely happy or unbothered until he fixed the mistakes he made as a teenager. It was a curse, he always thought. Chris had cursed himself with past actions made, holding a deep inner grudge with that boy he once was.

✪ After all it was Chris who’d decided to take another route for his life. If anything the male should’ve prided the girl for her motivation, but instead he loathed her. She knew what she wanted to do, and he didn’t, setting off an insecurity inside him. The nail in the coffin was always the things they aspired for, were far different from each other.

－ Rolling his eyes, he leaned off of the wall and began to stalk after her rushed steps. The long strides he took kept up with her pace perfect as she turned corners, effortlessly keeping up with the girl as she unknowingly was being followed. He had to, didn’t he? Chris wasn’t some monster －well, not really.

✪ “Y/n,” Chris breathed out, catching the girl’s wrist just as she went to enter a washroom. The girl, who was completely unaware of his presence, jumped at the touch. Heart racing as she lurched forward, pulling from the grip she once craved －needed.

－ The coldness of the wall pressed into her cheek as she rested her face against it, eyes fluttering shut as she felt tears glaze the surface. “Let go of me.” He heard her whispered, making his affirming grip only tighten. He didn’t want to. “Chris－” he cut her off by softly tugging her from the wall, nudging her around to face him as he cornered her.

✪ “I’m sorry.”

－ Chris’s tense frame faltered, shoulders falling with relief as he uttered the words. The words he’d been dying to whisper against her neck as he pressed feather like pecks around her jaw. I’m sorry －I’m sorry－ he was so fucking sorry. The sorrow felt by the male consumed him every day for three years, eating away at him whenever his mind allowed rest.

✪ Many mistakes made by the male, but the current one in front of him, taking the cake.

－ Y/n’s chin shook as she bit down on her tongue, forcing the spewing words to leave her mouth impulsively. “You left me.” The girl whispered, voice cracking. “I know,” Chris breathed out, reaching his hands out to cup her cheeks. “I know baby－” she brushed off his touch, turning her face to the side with a shake of the head. “No.” She mumbled.

✪ Sucking back the tears, she inhaled deeply. “You promised me that night,” Meeting his eyes, feeling her own heart fall as she saw the realization twinkle the blues. “I let you－” she cut herself off as a sob threatened to escape her throat, lifting the back of her hand to cover her mouth. “I let you take me, Chris.” Oh god, he knew.

－ Like a whirlwind of memories, the night before the two parted flooded Chris’s thoughts. It was wrong of him, he knew that. He was a stupid fucking kid, and in his defence, it seemed less －terrible then. The lies he whispered against her trachea while he slipped a hand down her garment, the promise he made to love her, cherish her, until they were too old to remember the sealed promise.

✪ Resting his forehead against hers, he unintentionally leaned into the warmth of her body. Coconut, Vanilla, tea tree. The aromas he’d hid away in the back of his mind, all of which reminded him of the girl. Now engulfed in his nose as he lulled his eyes shut, breathing in the comforting scent he missed for years.

－ The rational part of the girl told her to pull away, leave before he could do any more damage. Though, the little part that loved to wreak havoc, convinced her she deserved this, wanted it －needed it. “Just let me make it up to you.” Chris whispered, lulling his eyes open to meet Y/n’s.

✪ Teary eyed, she batted her eyelashes unintentionally while lifting her gaze to hips. “Nothing you could do could fix the pain and hate you’ve left inside me.” Crack. Chris felt his heart fall to his stomach, blowing out a hurt breath as guilt flooded his chest. Chris could only take in her words for a moment, knowing that nothing he could say would make the circumstances right. No words, that is .. The blue eyes fell to her lips, seeing the pink tainting the no doubt soft skin. God, they looked so kissable.

So he did the only thing he could.

－ The triplet slowly leaned in, gently pressing his lips against her supple ones. He felt as her body tensed, but almost immediately fell in place with his actions, breathing a soft elicit gasp from her mouth as she returned the act of tension and need. Chris swiped his tongue along her bottom lip, making her moan softly, his lips twitching at the slightest feeling. “Did I ever fail you back then?” He murmured in between kisses.

✪ Y/n broke apart for a second, a scoff coming from her raw lips. “Any promise you’ve ever made me has been empty and void.” Chris, speechless, leered down at her with a hooded gaze at the remark.

－ He pulled back an inch to look deeper into her eyes, searching for the hesitation or fear. Nothing. Chris felt his tongue twinge the inside of his cheek, muscles tensing as chuckled a bit. “Yeah?” One, two, three. Y/n yelped as she stumbled backward, Chris’s hand effortlessly twisting the door nob behind her as he nudged her through. “Guess’ I’ll have to change that.” He whispered against her jaw, spinning her around.

✪ With a surprised grunt, she felt her hips being slammed into the hard countertop. “Jesus!” Snapping her head up she met his sadistic gaze through the mirror. “That hurt, you dick.” Chris let his gaze bore into hers through the glass, cocking his head a bit as he examined the beautiful pained expression painted across her face.

－ Chills trailed up her back as she felt his warm hand press against her back, slim fingers dragging from the span between her lats to her lower back. “Whoops.” He said with a grin as he looked her in the eyes, chuckling a bit. Y/n rolled her eyes, head lowering as she felt her thighs clamp together shamefully. “Yeah you sound real apologeti－fuck.” She gasped, feeling cold air hit her backside as a split tore through the room.

✪ He didn’t －oh my god he totally fucking did. “Chris,” she muttered, slowly lifting her head from the counter as she peered at the male from the glass. “tell me you did not just tear my $500 skirt.” Chris heard the ware in her tone, only intensifying the immense satisfaction he felt. “Okay.” He shrugged, lips twitching as he heard her breath hitch, his two index fingers slipping down the sides of her lace thong.

－ He watched in entrancement as the rough garment drug down her plump ass, unable to ignore the far difference in the lingerie she usually wore. She kept it tame back then, panties that would show a little something, and if she was feeling risky, sheer with some lace. But this, this was new.

✪ A sign that he’d lost touch with the new Y/n. He bit down on his lip, pressing down on her lower back as she bent further. “Always such a sweet girl,” he muttered, hearing her whimper as he slid a finger down her glistening slit, applying pressure to the sensitive bundle of need. “now dressin’ like a slut.” Chris tutted softly, eyes lifting to meet hers in the mirror, watching as her eyes rolled back at the motion of his middle finger easing its way into her pussy.

－ He felt as her walls clamped down on the digit as if it was his cock. Letting out a huff of amusement, he added another finger, the push becoming more reluctant against her tight cunt. “That’s it,” he mumbled, thumb slowly rolling over her clit as he eased his other two fingers into her heat. “jus’ open up for me, baby.” He whispered, the pace of his middle finger torturously slow.

✪ The girl’s head fell against the cold marble, whining in pleasure as she felt the ball in her stomach building. It almost was too much, such a foreign sensation after using her own, smaller hands for her pleasure for the few years. As she felt her body react so differently to his touch, the idea of him fucking her, seemed simply impossible.

－ Chris was definitely more than well endowed, if her memory served her correct. Even after fucking her the first time, the occasions after were just as harder to get her through. It was the additional discomfort and pain that got her. She had always described it to be tore in half, a shooting pain as well as heat coursing up her core as he slammed himself into her.

✪ Chris hushed her softly as she began to struggle against his touch, shifting with discomfort, but pushing her hips back against the touch despite her body’s reluctance. “I know, I know.” The triplet murmured, feathering kisses against the opening of her skin tight top. “You can take it.” Y/n moaned at the words, pussy pulsing around his slim fingers that scissored up into her.

－ Hardness pressed into the girls thigh from behind, Chris’s hips pathetically rutting against the soft skin as he impatiently waited to slam into her sopping cunt. “M’gonna fuck you s’good.” He breathed against the shell of her ear, his free hand flattening around her trachea, squeezing gently.

✪ He uttered the words like he meant it, unfulfilled promises he’d never made up for, finally being made. “Please.” She practically whined, pushing her hips back into his erection.

－ Tight walls of the girl’s pussy clenched around nothing as he slid his fingers from her the dripping core, a trail of arousal slipping down her inner thigh as she feigned to be filled. The sound of the triplet’s zipper being tugged at echoed throughout the washroom.

✪ Chris’s hand slipped into his slacks after tugging at the belt, immediately palming over the raging hard on with a guttural moan. Pre-cum tainted the end of his calloused thumb as he ran the pad along his sensitive tip, whimpering as he bucked his hips into his own hand. Fuck this.

－ “Sorry －I gotta’ fuck you baby.” Please. She almost cried the plea, opting to whine in desperation as he lined the tip of his cock up to the entrance of her dripping cunt, one hand placed on her waist as he adjusted himself. Slowly sinking himself into her heat, she moaned breathlessly, nails scraping the marble countertop as he barely got an inch in. “Chris,” she whined.

✪ The male threw his head back with a grunt, chest heaving as he tugged at the button of his dress shirt. “I’m not even halfway in yet, sweetheart.” He said airily, running a hand through his hair. “Be a good girl and hold on for me, yeah?” Chris said, squeezing her waist warily.

－ Huh? Y/n’s eyebrows met with confusion, but she complied to the request with the slightest hesitation. Just as her hands mounted around the counter top, her whole body was being forced forward with one sharp buck of Chris’s hips. “‘Holy fuck!” Her nails dug into the counter, Chris’s hips meeting her backside as he bottomed out.

✪ A shooting pain ran up her core as heat swirled within the drenched folds, pulsing with need as she clamped around his cock snuggly. Chris’s eyes were squeezed shut, hips still from any movement as he forced himself not to come the second he slammed inside her pussy. God she was fuckin’ tight. “Jesus, baby,” He moaned, neck bent back with the overwhelming amount of pleasure he felt as he slowly pulled out of her. “you’re tighter than when I first fucked ya’.” Pressing a hand on her lower back, he sharply thrusted back into her, a startled moan emitting her lips.

－ She felt him everywhere. “S’so good,” she panted, whimpering as she felt the ridge of his cock sliding against her clit sensitively. The pain subsided with each rut of his hips, until it was just an overwhelming tingling sensation with every single movement.

✪ Her walls tightened around his dick with every single retraction, making him groan as he gripped her waist. “You’re suffocating me here, baby.” Y/n whimpered, the words itself allowing her cunt to squeeze around him as he pulled out. “Can’t’ help it.” She whispered, whining as he swiftly slammed back into her. “Fuck.” It was so good.

－ The girl couldn’t tell if she was jealous with his new experience, or thankful. While Chris did know how to make a girl feel good back then, it was mediocre. His hips moved with the need to find his own pleasure, lazy thrusts as he whined and whimpered next to her ear. But this, was something else.

✪ She watched as Chris’s face scrunched with pleasure, neck craned back as he watch his cock fuck into her little hole, before his eyes lifted to meet her’s through the glass at the feeling of her stare. She breathlessly smirked at his darkened expression, pushing her ass out to meet every slam of his cock. “Couldn’t even wait, had to fuck me in a bathroom.” He bit down on his bottom lip, shaking his head a bit.

－“Why? So I would have to walk around all night, with my brothers, feeling like I need to shove my cock into this little cunt?” The male grunted, using two hands to lift her hips, sharply fucking into her from a new angle.

✪ She moaned, nails scraping the countertop, laughing at the sinful statement. Chris’s eyebrows came together, teeth gnashing as he fisted his hand around her ponytail, lifting her face from the cold marble. “Somethin’ funny, doll?” She shook her head, chest still heaving as she panted and laugh.

－ “No- no, it’s just that you’re the same selfish little boy you were three fucking years ago.” She grits out, glaring at him through the mirror as he fucked into her with a darkness twinkling in his eyes. “Worried about getting it up, instead of the girl who fell- ah －” she was cut off as his hips snapped forward, her body going limp as he slammed into her hard.

✪ The hand that was pressed against her belly slid up until it pressed on her neck, slim fingers wrapping around the area as he held her up, set on keeping the eye contact. “That girl, is the same little bitch, that would rather spend time with frat boys then stay with her boyfriend.” He hissed.

－ Y/n felt him slowly pull out, making her breathlessly pant out. “No, no －” she cried out, sinking into the counter as Chris’s hand made contact with her right ass cheek, his hand groping the pink skin afterward. “Hush.” Her body was limp, thighs trembling as she struggled to stay upright, the only balance she held was the triplet’s grip on her.

✪ Which she didn’t know was a good thing or not. “Put your hands behind you,” He murmured while turning her around, two large hands rubbing the underside of her thighs as he stepped closer to her, wrapping them snuggly around his hips. The girl complied, two palms falling against the marble as she leaned back, lifting her hips with need. “someone’s impatient.” He chuckled.

－ Her eyes narrowed into a glare, chest heaving as she looked at his disheveled frame. “Someone’s needy.” Chris rolled his eyes at the bratty reply, hands gliding to grip her backside. “Yeah, yeah.” The male muttered, looking into her eyes nonchalantly as a smirk graced his lips. “Hold on f’me.”

✪ And just like that, he was bottoming out in her with one thrust, the girls eyes flying open. “Chris!” Every fucking inch, she felt as he slid into her violently, a new spot inside being brushed against with every movement. His hand swatted her’s away as she pressed it against his abdomen, “slow- slow down,” gripping her smaller one in his, he tutted softly. “Hands to yourself, doll.” Her face scrunched with pleasure, feeling an iron like taste in her mouth as she nipped at her tongue.

－ Her back aches into him as he ruthlessly fucks into her, the length of his cock rocking back in forth along her pulsing walls. Chris’s head fell back with a low moan, feeling the way her hips raised as a silent plea to continue despite the harsh thrusts of his dick. “Always takin’ it like a good fuckin’ girl.” Bobbing her head silently, he sunk himself deeper in her.

✪ The girls hips roll to alleviate some of the pressure, only causing a whole new shockwave of arousel to come over her. “Yes, yes －” her whined echoed through out the bathroom, no doubt heard by passing guests. Chris couldn’t help himself, the sound of her lewd whines flooding straight to his cock.

－ A strangled moan escaped her parted lips as he buried himself inside her to the hilt, so deep that she swore she could feel him up her throat. “Chris,” she gasped out, head hitting the mirror with a soft thud as it fell back. Chris panted softly while pushing away the hairs that stuck to her face, using every bone in his body not to give and press his lips to her’s.

✪ She swallowed deeply, sucking in a breath as she flicked her gaze down to her abdomen. “Your cock,” she whimpered, seeing the faint outline of hid cock in her belly. He hummed, his veiny hand pressing to her stomach as he drug the top of her shirt up further, just until it was below her breasts. “Yeah? You like that? seeing my cock fuck into ya’?” She nodded dumbly, moaning silently as he pressed down on the outline.

－ Chris couldn’t get enough of her ass. Groping the skin as he lifted her up onto his cock, just before slamming down into her. She moaned in pleasure, he groaned in agony. “Fuck － baby,” so damn tight. She was squeezing the life out of him, clamping down in every inch of his length.

✪ “Oh my god －” tears of pleasure threatened to fall as she released over his dick, feeling him reach places she didn’t even know existed. “That’s it my girl,” He grunted while fucking into one last time, groaning as he felt ropes after ropes of cum spew from his sensitive tip. “Thats. Fucking. It.” All he needed.

－ His forehead pressed to her’s as the two calmed from the aftershocks of their orgasam’s, eyes fluttering open to meet her’s. The look in her eyes was one of the few things Chris noticed hadn’t changed. They gleamed with such love, a love she was so willing to share with him once.

✪ And if he knew one thing, it was that he missed that fucking look. If he could do it all over again he would. He’d take everything back with a snap of the finger, go back to the simple times where they’d sneak from class to meet up, share messy chaste kisses as they dodged the hall monitor.

－ Chris flicked his gaze from her lips to her eyes, over and over, debating what his next move would be. He couldn’t, could he? No －it’d be wrong of him … right? Being the irrational individual he’d always been, he slammed lips against her’s, despite his better judgment.

✪ Y/n’s eyes flew open, a sound of surprise emitting her lips as she felt the impact of his making contact with her flush ones. He cupped the one side of her jaw as he moved his lips against hers, chasing the feeling of pure melancholy he did as a teenager. And god, he’d be a liar if he said he didn’t feel it.

－ His heart practically pumped from his chest, lips twitching against hers as he felt a smaller hand softly tug at the brunette tendrils atop his head. He missed it so much. Chris hissed as she nipped at his plump bottom lip, eyes glaring into hers for a moment.

✪ She laughed. Pressing a hand to the back of her lips as she giggled, chest shaking as she concealed the laughter that wanted to emit from her mouth. His eyes softened at the sight, glare no longer as he looked at her with pure amazement.

－ He missed her so much.

✪ They both looked into each other’s eyes, silently searching for the correct thing to say after the moment they’d shared. Hell －it wasn’t a moment. Chris had fucked her in a bathroom, at their friend’s wedding. There was something so .. ironic about it, though he couldn’t put a finger on it.

－ Should he thank her? Apologize? Maybe he should express how much he liked it － no, no. His eyes flicked to eye to eye, throat bobbing as he blurted out the words he been fighting for years.

“Marry me.”

𝒯𝒶𝑔𝓈 ♡︎－

@fratbrochrisgf @jetaimevous @sturnstvr @sturnrc @stonermattsgf

[sunnys-out]

Coming Back to Me | Kyra Cooney-Cross

A/N: based on this prompt list. Prompt 19: I still need you.

Angst w/happy ending (I couldn't do it to Kyra let's be real)

Warnings: Parental abuse, yelling, gaslighting

Word Count: 1325

You wouldn’t have known that something was off after we won against the Olympic gold medalist, Canada 4-0.

What had happened the night before? Nothing…Nothing was wrong…nothing was different in the eyes of the public. 

Kyra still kept up with the appearances and held my hand and smiled at me when the fans were within eyeline and then immediately dropped both once we got to the locker room. It didn’t go unnoticed by the rest of the team when we both refused to look at one another during team talks.

Kerr tried to talk to me, like a good captain should, but I waved her away sternly, saying “t’s fine, leave us alone”. 

In all reality, it wasn’t fine. Kyra and I had a fight in the late hours before this important game.

My mother never liked Kyra, well she never liked anyone I had ever dated no matter how much they made me happy. Kyra came into my life and after 1 ½ years of dating I had proposed at the beginning of the year…that one increased the amount of vitriol my mother threw at Kyra whenever she would call me not caring if Kyra was within earshot.

My mother “cared” about my career and well controlled it ever since I was little. Every club team was intentional, every camp was important, and my identity became just the sport. Meeting Kyra and falling in love with her was something my mother didn’t want because that meant she was losing her grip on me. 

I had previously been with Olympique Lyonnais for a time and that was something my mother hated. She constantly said that I was doing this all to make her unhappy even though she was doing what was best for me. The move to Arsenal, after some time away in France, was seen as a good move by everyone but it was my mother, who was the “happiest” at my decision…because I was back on track with what she wanted me to be.

I had gotten closer to Kyra at our first Australian camps together back in 2021. We even debuted together in the game against Denmark, grinning to each other as we both took the pitch. She was what I wanted and needed and the returning of myself came so quickly that I didn’t even recognize who I was but I loved it.

My mother caught wind of it as the fans did. While fans were filling my instagram with comments of congratulations or love for our new relationship…my mother was behind it all screaming that I didn’t care for my career and that Kyra was going to destroy everything.

I tried my hardest to hide all of that from Kyra for the longest time, and wanted to enjoy my time with her. 

The way that she snuggled her face into my neck in pictures, how she was my biggest cheerleader when I failed on the pitch, the way that she attempted to make my favorite food and nearly burned our kitchen down, me carrying her on my back to the locker room because she was tired, our holidays together, the nights we spent together…she was everything to me. 

It obviously didn’t last…Kyra was strong but she bore the brunt of it after our 1st year anniversary even though I tried my best to defend her. My mother didn’t care and blamed Kyra for every one of my failures, calling her a distraction, that her Australian call up was nothing in comparison to mine and her career would never reach that of mine. 

Kyra, justifiably, had enough after my mother called me the night before the Canada game. She finally was able to get through to my cell phone after complete radio silence from me since the World Cup started. She had found out about the engagement and screamed for Kyra to get onto the phone. 

After 40 minutes, Kyra looked at me almost angry, “ (y/n), I don’t know how much of this I can take…I really don’t” Before I knew it, we were fighting in our hotel room, she argued that I had to let go of my mother and I argued that my mother has done so much for me that Kyra wouldn’t have understood…I know that it was all manipulation on my mother’s part but when you’ve lived it your whole life it’s hard to actually come to terms with it. 

It ended with Kyra leaving the room, saying “Maybe your mum was right…you don’t need me” and electing to go to Steph’s instead. I didn’t follow her…I should’ve but, like a coward, I only whispered to myself..

“I still need you though, Kyra”

______________________________________________________________

A hand on my shoulder took me out of my thoughts, with a  fake smile on my face, I turned to see the individual in question.

“Hey Ian!” I gave the commentator in front of me a big hug.

“Amazin’ game out there. Hey I already spoke to Steph but might as well also try to rope in the future Missus, congratulations by the way. What I’m saying is we got to get Kyra to Arsenal, we get a great player and you get to have your future missus playing by your side. Told Steph I’ll call my people, just need you both to do the footwork.”

I nod the smile not fading from my face, “yeah I could do that, won’t fail you Ian”. He pats me on the back and leaves me in the tunnel. 

The universe really is cruel. At any other time, this would have been the best news in my life but I had received an email, that morning, from my manager that OL was eyeing to have me back and Kyra was still not speaking to me.

______________________________________________________________

Kyra took her engagement ring from me when the World Cup was over and we both went our separate ways. She only gave me a kiss on the cheek and went back to Sweden. No one was happier than that than my mother whom I ignored the best I could as I spoke with management both at Arsenal and OL.

Kyra arrived to sign with Arsenal in September and she made it a point to see me before she did. I had just left the office with my transfer documents in hand when she grabbed me and yelled through a whisper. 

“(y/n), I heard what you did, look I appreciate it but being on the same team is going to ruin what we have…your mum is going to explode once she finds out If I signed with Arsenal.  I can’t go through that again I-” I stop her as I show her the papers.

“I’m leaving for Olympique Lyonnais, Kyra…I don’t care what my mum thinks. I advocated for this club to sign you because you’ll have a true heart for the team that I never could because of my mum…Lyon is where my love for the game lies…and I can’t lose you, Kyra…If it means playing apart like this then so be it because I still need you in my life Kyra and Im not letting my mum take that away from me…not again.”

She looked at me and her face softened as she pulled me into a gentle kiss and leaned her forehead on mine.

“I love you so much, (y/n)” and with that I hugged her tightly.

“I love you too…and Ian Wright definitely wont once they announce my transfer in a few hours but hey they got KCC” I joke as I give her another peck on the lips.

Kyra pushed my shoulder with a roll of her eyes, “yeah and you got to answer to Caitlin, and Steph about this too”. 

Needless to say, I got some really angry texts from my friends later that evening and my mother probably…but eh who can know if you block the person on everything. 

[starstruckunknown-princess]

Belladonna - Leto Atreides x F!Reader

Belladonna (Atropa belladonna) - Meaning: Silence, betrayal

Summary: Duke Leto's new wife has been neglected. When the Duke finds her under his Swordmaster, he summons her to his office for a talk but it ends up not being what she expected.

Pairing: Leto Atreides x F!Reader, (past fling) Duncan Idaho x F!Reader

Word Count: 918

Warnings: Slight Hurt/Comfort, fluff, Discussion of marital neglect/politically arranged marriage that leads to infidelity, reader has female genitalia but is otherwise not described, slight language, reader tries to appear aloof, Leto is probably OOC, feelings talk, a little husband/wife flirting at the end

Day 4 my loves! This is my first Dune fic and I have only seen the 2021/2024 films and read through some of the Wiki pages so forgive me if there are horrendous inaccuracies. This takes place pre-Dune by about 10 years, so Paul is a kid and Leto is a little younger but still foxy as hell.

In Bloom Masterlist

Likes, Comments, Reblogs are SUPER appreciated! Thanks for reading <3

The thing about Caladan, you had come to learn, is that no matter where you were in the palace you could always hear the ocean. The crash of waves against the cliff below lulled you to sleep every night since your marriage to Duke Leto about two months ago. Sixty days, of which the Duke had only visited your bedchamber twice. The rest he spent, you assumed, in his chambers with Lady Jessica. 

In fact, you had barely seen him other than your weekly dinners since the wedding. The dinners were silent affairs, you on one end of the long formal dining table and the Duke on the other. Conversation extended no further than pleasantries. You didn’t mind too much — a political marriage like yours wasn’t meant to inspire affection and since the Duke had his concubine and his heir, you were only there to solidify the alliance between Caladan and your home planet, Calypso-9. 

Today, you’d been summoned to his office to discuss yesterday’s incident. 

The incident in which he’d found you underneath his Swordmaster Duncan Idaho in the training room. Half-naked. Writhing and crying in pleasure while Duncan pummeled your cervix with his impressive cock. It had been months since you’d been intimate with someone, and during your self-defense training Duncan’s touches while he corrected your form along with the smell of his sweat and endorphins from the exercise had proven to be too much. You’d given in to your baser instincts, and fuck, did it feel good.

Leto hadn’t said anything, only caught your attention with a loud clear of his throat. When he saw your and Duncan’s eyes on him, all he did was about-face and walk out of the room. 

He maintained the same stoic expression now. His dark eyes bore into yours as he stroked his beard. You had noticed how large his hands were during your wedding ceremony, and you remembered how they felt on you while he dispassionately consummated your union that night. All you could hear were the waves crashing. 

“I think we’re both aware of why I called you here,” he finally said, breaking the silence. 

“You found me fucking Duncan. I apologize if you were offended, my Lord, but I’m not sure why you called me here. Were you offended? Jealous?” You honestly didn’t know why he would want to hash this out between you unless he was going to scold you for being so indiscreet, which you supposed was deserved. 

“What if I was?” He asked, gaze softening before he continued without waiting for your answer, “Even though you and I both know I have no right to be. Our marriage is simply a political arrangement and I have Jessica and Paul while you left your homeworld to come here and be ignored by the husband you never wanted in the first place.” 

Gobsmacked. That was the only way you could describe yourself as you picked your jaw up off the floor. To say you hadn’t expected candor of this level was an understatement.

“I…Apologies, my Lord, but-” 

“Leto.”

“Pardon?”

“You are my wife, there’s no need for formalities. Call me Leto.”

You held back a scoff, turning it into a light sigh instead. “Since this is the second longest conversation we’ve ever had, you’ll forgive my hesitation with familiarities, but alright. Leto,” he nodded gratefully, so you continued, “I don’t fully understand your meaning.” 

“What I mean is I am angry about what I saw yesterday but not for the reasons you may think. I’m not upset with you because I understand that I am what drove you into the arms of my Swordmaster. I am angry with myself for neglecting you so cruelly since our wedding and I promise to do better by you. Perhaps not to Duncan’s extent, but-” 

You burst out laughing, which caused his brows to knit together in confusion. His large hands folded in front of him on his desk as you tried to get yourself under control. 

“I’m - I’m sorry,” you said, waving a hand in front of you, “I don’t mean to be laughing, I swear, but…is that all it would’ve taken to get your attention?” 

“Well, no, but-” 

“To think all I had to do was fuck someone else…I would’ve gotten your attention weeks ago.” 

“You’ve…been wanting my attention?”

This time you let your scoff out, “Of course! When my father told me he’d found me a husband I expected some old, ugly lord with at least two dead wives and no heirs. You cannot imagine the relief I felt when we met and you were none of those things.” 

“I’m not not old,” he chuckled, ducking his head.  

“Oh, pish, you’re barely forty, and don’t look it.” 

He looked up at you from under his regal brow and you felt butterflies stirring in your chest. “And you are one of the most beautiful women who has ever stepped foot on Caladan.” 

You couldn’t help the blush that rose in your cheeks, “Are you flirting with me, Leto?” 

“Perhaps. You are my wife after all,” he smirked, standing from behind his desk and coming around it, offering his arm to you. “Would you like to walk with me? A proper tour of the grounds?” 

You accepted, resting your hand in the crook of his arm and subtly stroking his inner forearm. “And maybe we can stop in the training room?” 

His smirk widened into a smile and you were enchanted at the sight. “Whatever my wife desires.” 

[mostlysignssomeportents]

The surveillance advertising to financial fraud pipeline

Monday (October 2), I'll be in Boise to host an event with VE Schwab. On October 7–8, I'm in Milan to keynote Wired Nextfest.

Being watched sucks. Of all the parenting mistakes I've made, none haunt me more than the times my daughter caught me watching her while she was learning to do something, discovered she was being observed in a vulnerable moment, and abandoned her attempt:

https://www.theguardian.com/technology/blog/2014/may/09/cybersecurity-begins-with-integrity-not-surveillance

It's hard to be your authentic self while you're under surveillance. For that reason alone, the rise and rise of the surveillance industry – an unholy public-private partnership between cops, spooks, and ad-tech scum – is a plague on humanity and a scourge on the Earth:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/08/16/the-second-best-time-is-now/#the-point-of-a-system-is-what-it-does

But beyond the psychic damage surveillance metes out, there are immediate, concrete ways in which surveillance brings us to harm. Ad-tech follows us into abortion clinics and then sells the info to the cops back home in the forced birth states run by Handmaid's Tale LARPers:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/06/29/no-i-in-uter-us/#egged-on

And even if you have the good fortune to live in a state whose motto isn't "There's no 'I" in uter-US," ad-tech also lets anti-abortion propagandists trick you into visiting fake "clinics" who defraud you into giving birth by running out the clock on terminating your pregnancy:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/06/15/paid-medical-disinformation/#crisis-pregnancy-centers

The commercial surveillance industry fuels SWATting, where sociopaths who don't like your internet opinions or are steamed because you beat them at Call of Duty trick the cops into thinking that there's an "active shooter" at your house, provoking the kind of American policing autoimmune reaction that can get you killed:

https://www.cnn.com/2019/09/14/us/swatting-sentence-casey-viner/index.html

There's just a lot of ways that compiling deep, nonconsensual, population-scale surveillance dossiers can bring safety and financial harm to the unwilling subjects of our experiment in digital spying. The wave of "business email compromises" (the infosec term for impersonating your boss to you and tricking you into cleaning out the company bank accounts)? They start with spear phishing, a phishing attack that uses personal information – bought from commercial sources or ganked from leaks – to craft a virtual Big Store con:

https://www.fbi.gov/how-we-can-help-you/safety-resources/scams-and-safety/common-scams-and-crimes/business-email-compromise

It's not just spear-phishers. There are plenty of financial predators who run petty grifts – stock swindles, identity theft, and other petty cons. These scams depend on commercial surveillance, both to target victims (e.g. buying Facebook ads targeting people struggling with medical debt and worried about losing their homes) and to run the con itself (by getting the information needed to pull of a successful identity theft).

In "Consumer Surveillance and Financial Fraud," a new National Bureau of Academic Research paper, a trio of business-school profs – Bo Bian (UBC), Michaela Pagel (WUSTL) and Huan Tang (Wharton) quantify the commercial surveillance industry's relationship to finance crimes:

https://www.nber.org/papers/w31692

The authors take advantage of a time-series of ZIP-code-accurate fraud complaint data from the Consumer Finance Protection Board, supplemented by complaints from the FTC, along with Apple's rollout of App Tracking Transparency, a change to app-based tracking on Apple mobile devices that turned of third-party commercial surveillance unless users explicitly opted into being spied on. More than 96% of Apple users blocked spying:

https://arstechnica.com/gadgets/2021/05/96-of-us-users-opt-out-of-app-tracking-in-ios-14-5-analytics-find/

In other words, they were able to see, neighborhood by neighborhood, what happened to financial fraud when users were able to block commercial surveillance.

What happened is, fraud plunged. Deprived of the raw material for committing fraud, criminals were substantially hampered in their ability to steal from internet users.

While this is something that security professionals have understood for years, this study puts some empirical spine into the large corpus of qualitative accounts of the surveillance-to-fraud pipeline.

As the authors note in their conclusion, this analysis is timely. Google has just rolled out a new surveillance system, the deceptively named "Privacy Sandbox," that every Chrome user is being opted in to unless they find and untick three separate preference tickboxes. You should find and untick these boxes:

https://www.eff.org/deeplinks/2023/09/how-turn-googles-privacy-sandbox-ad-tracking-and-why-you-should

Google has spun, lied and bullied Privacy Sandbox into existence; whenever this program draws enough fire, they rename it (it used to be called FLoC). But as the Apple example showed, no one wants to be spied on – that's why Google makes you find and untick three boxes to opt out of this new form of surveillance.

There is no consensual basis for mass commercial surveillance. The story that "people don't mind ads so long as they're relevant" is a lie. But even if it was true, it wouldn't be enough, because beyond the harms to being our authentic selves that come from the knowledge that we're being observed, surveillance data is a crucial ingredient for all kinds of crime, harassment, and deception.

We can't rely on companies to spy on us responsibly. Apple may have blocked third-party app spying, but they effect nonconsensual, continuous surveillance of every Apple mobile device user, and lie about it:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/11/14/luxury-surveillance/#liar-liar

That's why we should ban commercial surveillance. We should outlaw surveillance advertising. Period:

https://www.eff.org/deeplinks/2022/03/ban-online-behavioral-advertising

Contrary to the claims of surveillance profiteers, this wouldn't reduce the income to ad-supported news and other media – it would increase their revenues, by letting them place ads without relying on the surveillance troves assembled by the Google/Meta ad-tech duopoly, who take the majority of ad-revenue:

https://www.eff.org/deeplinks/2023/05/save-news-we-must-ban-surveillance-advertising

We're 30 years into the commercial surveillance pandemic and Congress still hasn't passed a federal privacy law with a private right of action. But other agencies aren't waiting for Congress. The FTC and DoJ Antitrust Divsision have proposed new merger guidelines that allow regulators to consider privacy harms when companies merge:

https://www.regulations.gov/comment/FTC-2023-0043-1569

Think here of how Google devoured Fitbit and claimed massive troves of extremely personal data, much of which was collected because employers required workers to wear biometric trackers to get the best deal on health care:

https://www.eff.org/deeplinks/2020/04/google-fitbit-merger-would-cement-googles-data-empire

Companies can't be trusted to collect, retain or use our personal data wisely. The right "balance" here is to simply ban that collection, without an explicit opt-in. The way this should work is that companies can't collect private data unless users hunt down and untick three "don't spy on me" boxes. After all, that's the standard that Google has set.

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/09/29/ban-surveillance-ads/#sucker-funnel

Image: Cryteria (modified) https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:HAL9000.svg

CC BY 3.0 https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/3.0/deed.en

[holy-puckslibrary]

━ 𝐁𝐎𝐍𝐄𝐑-𝐊𝐈𝐋𝐋𝐄𝐑

˗ˏˋ main masterlist ˎˊ˗

pairing(s) — counselor!JACK HUGHES x counselor!reader word count — 1.4k

note — i was (and still am) super proud of how i executed this concept, and i hope you enjoy reading it as much as i enjoy re-reading it!

recommended viewing — friday the 13th (1980), fear street: 1978 (2021)

bingo squares and additional content warnings below the cut.

bingo squares — sex in water, risky location/exhibitionism, and fear play additional content warnings — a few jokes about death/dying and murder, rather short n tame ("vanilla") barely-there spice from me???, jack being a little shithead (and a little switchy omg), a smidge of angst, and spoopy ending... (kevin heimbach hive rise!)

“Y’know, for someone who is so paranoid about being caught, you sure scream like you aren’t.”

The lake smacks Jack Hughes’ chest just moments before the true expulsion of annoyance. The succinct burst of emotion is pre-packaged into a lame wave. One that only stokes his predisposition for button-pushing—hers being a personal favorite target of his.

“Y'know, for someone so desperate to get laid, you sure do everything to guarantee the only thing you'll be fucking is your hand."

Jack's jaw unhinges as if making ample room for whatever semi-clever perverted retort is bound to manifest, but it slams shut prematurely. His only response is a strained whimper accompanying an audible gulp.

Wide eyes bulging, his gaze never leaves the woody shore at your back.

"J-Jack, I'm serious. Cut it out. Right now."

Your blunt, conduct code-mandated nails slice their way through the sunburnt skin of his shoulders—the much-deserved consequence of brushing off the sunscreen you offered him prior to his afternoon shift at the canoes.

He hisses, mostly out of irritation, but keeps otherwise mum.

Unwittingly, further panic stirs in your gut at that, sending your tense face into his waiting chest.

"I-It's not funny—it never was. And it's absolutely not now, e-either. Please, Jack. Just, just knock it off, o-okay?"

"Or what, babe?"

His husky voice carries across the water and the trees rustle in response.

You loathe the way that innocuous noise shoves you deeper into his embrace, clutching onto his lithe, toned form like he isn't the instigator of your palpable distress.

"Stop pretending you see him, or I'll... I'll... —"

Any threat you could've come up with would've been hollow at best, you both know it. Even if you weren't strung out from a full day of covert teasing and stolen glances, your fear of what might lurk in the shadowy depths between you and the dock would be more than enough to keep you firmly planted.

Jack set himself up with yet another perfectly easy jump-scare, but as you helplessly cling to him like a soggy kitten at the mere implication of danger, he's presented with a better, more delicious opportunity to burrow under your thin skin.

Oh, how he lives to make you squirm.

Soft lips lower to your ear, "Is that really what you want? Because I don't think the lake's the only reason my dick is soaked."

"I-I don't know what you're talking about, Hughes."

You try and avoid his X-ray vision, but it doesn't matter. It hardly ever does.

"Really? Well, allow me to enlighten you, hm?"

His tone has you rolling your eyes even though he can't see them.

Jack holds you tighter, sharply bucking his hips until you whine, before he whispers, "I think you like when I scare you—or, at least, your pussy does. The poor thing, gushin' and squeezin' whenever you jump for me. Every damn time, babe. I damn near thought you'd squirted last time I got ya that good."

You grumble because he's right. Only about your physical reaction, of course. Definitely not the other things.

You definitely did not enjoy being scared shitless, and you definitely did not squirt when he pretended something—or someone—was pulling him under. You'd be damned if your first time doing that came at the hand of such juvenile flippancy.

"Quit talking and fuck me, Hughes. We don't have all night; Alice still isn't over the nightmares."

Every year, there was always one of those campers, and, this year, Alice was that one. A kid so freaked out by local legend that you have to wonder how their parent or guardian managed to get them up here in the first place. Or, why anyone thought sending them up into the mountains for the summer was a good idea to begin with.

It never takes long for the nightmares to start. Especially once the inaugural midnight bonfire passes and the sightings start making the rounds. Wind-carried screams, a flash of metal, the too-thick drip off of the leaves, torn flesh...

Everything in graphic detail, and every detail insomnia fodder at its peak.

If a camper lucked out, they had a counselor they could attach themselves to in the wee hours of the morning as they shook through waves of fear. Alice weaseled her way into your bunk every night this past week, bottom lip trembling as tears streamed down her face, always rambling about the same thing: a silent killer in a cheap mask wielding long, menacing blade.

Nightly, while you've donned a brave face, it's been as genuine as the plastic allegedly worn by the personified cautionary tale. Because, once upon a time, you had been that camper, too—and Jack had a front-row seat to your adolescent terror.

To this day, he finds your ardent belief in the legend a point of amusement.

He won't be laughing, though, when Alice finds your bunk empty and runs crying to the supervisor cabin, thinking you'd been the latest victim—the first in thirty years.

If you're going down, you're dragging jack hughes down with you. He can explain to your parents why you're home two months early—and unemployed.

His forehead falls to your shoulder, wafts of damp hair tickling the bare skin as he groans. Jack never bothers masking his ire. "That snot-nosed third grader is the last thing I want to think about when I'm balls-deep. Total boner-killer, babe."

"Jason Vorhees is the last thing I want to think about right now, but you never seem to care about that, do you?" you growl.

Your ankles tighten around his waist at just the thought of the camp's very own boogeyman.

If you were smart, you'd stop hooking up with the one person dead-set on sending you to an early grave all for a laugh.

The apparent inevitability of your trysts wasn't for a lack of options. No, every year there was plenty. But every year, Jack Hughes was the only peer you snuck out for.

After that many midnights, you would think his recycled material would lose its edge. Unfortunately for you, that's yet to happen.

You tug on a fistful of hair at the nape of his neck. He nips at your throat in retaliation; you don't have the confidence to tell him you like that, too.

"Fine, fine," he laments, eyes pinched shut and wincing. "Truce?"

"Truce," you nod and relinquish your tight grip. "Now, make me cum."

"Yes, ma'am."

"See? I told you it was fine. No wandering campers, no prying Visors," Jack hums, an arm looped around your shoulders. "And no hockey masks or machetes, either."

Your soft, grudging giggle harmonizes with the cicadas.

When you reach your cabin, he pecks your damp temple. "You should trust me more often."

You knew once you caved to the lake idea, he'd never let it go, but you'd be remiss if you said it didn't turn you on just as much as it did him. That, however, doesn't mean you're eager for an encore any time soon.

Next summer, perhaps. If he played his cards right.

"Yeah, right," you snort while eclipsing the two meager steps with him on your heels.

His ego is beginning to rub you the wrong way as your post-orgasm bliss fades. Still, you can't resist pulling him closer now that no one else is around.

Kiss-swollen lips ghosting over his, you whisper, "Over my dead body."

His eyes go dark; a rare flicker of concern. "Don't say shit like that, babe, you'll jinx it... And i've still got so much planned for your body."

"Well, it's a good thing you've got an entire summer, isn't it?"

"Only because you won't let me touch you outside of Camp Nightwing," jack huffs, mostly under his breath. His jaw is too tight, but his voice is louder, "Just think of what i could do with the other nine months."

He doesn't bother disguising the bitterness weighing on his voice or his conscience, and that alone is enough to make you skittish. It hurts to swallow, and the mounting nausea certainly isn't helping, but it's a necessary evil to rid yourself of the lump clawing up your throat.

Jack Hughes talks a big game, but that's all it'll ever be. A game.

You won't make the same mistake twice.

"Get lost before you wake my campers, Hughes." You wave your hand dismissively as you take a step back—and out of his magnetic field. "We've got a big day tomorrow."

He drops the complaint as easily as he championed it.

"I'm going, I'm going." Jack raises his hands in surrender, laughing as he backs away from the porch. "Wouldn't want to rob the little boogers of their last moments of peace before my reigning Color War champs kick their asses—for the fifth consecutive year."

Your reluctant affection glimmers in the moonlight as you shake your head. "I hate you so much."

"No, you don't!" Jack calls over his towel-clad shoulder.

You're still smiling when the screen door smacks the dilapidated wooden frame.

As his jubilant footsteps fade down the path and you settle in your bunk, a large shadow slips between the moon and the cabin's front window.

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[nolita-fairytale]

comfort & chaos | carmy berzatto x fem!reader | chapter three: heat waves

summary: after a bad date, you find yourself on carmy's doorstep. (the five times carmen berzatto fell in love with you a little and the one time he finally told you)

warnings: so much pining you may be entitled to compensation after reading this, swearing, no use of y/n, she/her pronouns, drinking & smoking, suggestive language, mentions of covid-19, eventual smut.

word count: 3.5k

listen to: i like me better - lauv | ceilings - lizzy mcalpine | heat waves - glass animals (i'm sorry but this song invented sexual tension. full stop.) better than i know myself - del water gap

read: chapter two

“sometimes all I think about is you, late nights in the middle of june…” (heat waves – glass animals)

*

June 2021

You: Hey, I’m in your neighborhood. You around?

Carmy: Yeah, what’s up?

You: Want some company?

Carmy: 👍

You: Heading your way.

Carmy: It started raining. Be careful.

You: I noticed. Thanks, dad. 

Carmy: 🙄

You’re not ready to go home yet as you head towards Carmy’s apartment. You’re not sure why you thought it was a good idea to download a dating app the other week… and you’re trying your best not to read into the fact that your first thought was to reach out to Carmy. Hesitant to tell him, you figure you’ll just surprise him by showing up like this – all dressed up. 

It’s not like he’s your boyfriend. He probably won’t even notice, you think to yourself. 

You hope he just doesn’t say anything – so that you don’t have to tell him you were on a date – but as soon as the torrential downpour starts, there’s no way he won’t say anything. You're only a block and a half away, so you decide to power through, storm be damned. 

“Woah,” he says, as soon as he opens the door.

“‘Looks like you got caught in the rain’ woah, or…like a ‘you look overdressed’ kinda woah?” you ask back, your hair beginning to drip on the carpet. 

“Both?” he offers up, trying his best to make it seem like he’s not checking you out. “You’re uh… fancy.”

“Yeah…” you trail off, not sure how much you’re going to reveal. It’s just not something you’ve really talked about yet and you’re ambivalent about how he may react. Hell, you’re ambivalent about how you feel about it too. 

But Carmy hasn’t invited you in yet either, blocking your pathway as he tries not to make it blatantly obvious that he’s gawking at you. “I uh… sort of had a date.”

“Oh,” he mutters, before stepping aside to invite you in. 

He takes a beat, watching you carefully as you enter his apartment. 

“How’d it go?” he asks, hesitantly.

“Uh… not great,” you admit, with a shrug. “But I’m not sure what I expected either. Can I borrow some clothes?”

“Oh! Yeah sure,” he nods, hurrying into his bedroom. 

Carmy mentally scolds himself for even asking. Would you really be here on his doorstep if it had gone well? He knows the answer, but what feels unfamiliar is the tight feeling that’s lodged itself in his chest. 

He wonders when you started dating. It’s not like you’d said anything about it to him. It’s not like you owed it to him to say anything either. Were you on those apps he couldn’t seem to wrap his head around? Or maybe one of those investment banker fuckos that had come into the restaurant a few weeks ago. He’d been this close to burning the whole place down when he noticed one of them practically undressing you with their eyes as you’d walked by from your visit with another table.

Carmy returns to you with a pair of sweatpants and one of his pristine white t-shirts, his eyes fixed on you as you remove your shoes. The kitchen overhead is the only light that’s on, leaving most of the apartment lit only by the TV. You can see a few cigarette butts that have been aimlessly thrown across the ashtray he keeps on his coffee table, and you know he’s been smoking tonight. 

“Pasta Grannies?” is all you ask, gesturing towards the TV. 

“Yeah,” he nods. It’s as if he’s just remembered that he’s holding a dry pair of clothes for you, a look of panic plastered on his face. “Shit. I forgot. Here.”

“Thanks, Carm,” you say, taking them and disappearing into the bathroom for a quick change. 

You examine your reflection in the mirror as you wring the excess water from your hair right into the sink. You take your time, tying your hair into a bun over the top of your head, immediately feeling at ease now that you’re here with him. While most of your makeup is gone, swept away by the rain, you feel much more like yourself in a pair of Carmy’s sweatpants that you ever felt in a fancy dress on that date. You hang your very wet dress over the shower curtain rod in Carmy’s bathroom to dry, before opening the door to rejoin him in the living room. 

Carmy’s returned to the couch, his feet kicked up on the outside of the couch as he stretches out across it. 

“Much better,” you comment, making your way towards him. 

You settle into the couch with Carmy, curled up apart on opposite sides of the couch. It’s a comfortable pattern you’ve fallen into: hanging out, watching movies till 3 am while he smokes a few cigarettes to unwind from the day. You like this rhythm. And you like that it’s with him. 

As another episode of Pasta Grannies begins, Carmy’s mind continues to race. He’s wracking his brain for any excuse to bring it up again – this whole, you dating thing. 

He searches your face for any kind of in. He’s not sure what he’s looking for: a furrowed brow, a sigh of frustration, a look of dissatisfaction? Something he can ask about so that you’ll tell him more about your night. But as he examines you closely, trying his best to get a read on you, iit seems as if you’ve forgotten all about it, comfortably curled up on his shitty $50 dollar couch that he’d found at Goodwill. 

“So… what was so bad about this date?” he finally manages to get out, surprising you. 

You shrug, carelessly, “Men suck.”

Your answer makes him chuckle as he agrees with a, “Yeah, we do.”

You’re honestly surprised that he’s asking. You and Carmy had never really talked about dating – save for a few stories about your exes here and there. You got the impression that Carmy hadn’t dated a lot at all, nor did he seem all that interested in dating. At least that’s what you’ve figured, considering you spend all of your time together and he’s not once tried to make a move. 

“Uh…” you start, figuring you’ll elaborate since he’s taken such an interest. “Just… not great conversationalist. The guy spent half the night trying to convince me that cryptocurrency was worth investing in and uh… I don’t know. Just wasn’t there for me, I guess.”

“What?”

“You know… that spark, I guess.”

And he does. He feels it every single time you look at him with your ‘you’re totally pissing me off and I hate how endearing it is’ look. He feels it on the rare occasion that he makes you laugh. Every time he makes you a new dish he’s working on and you tell him how annoying it is that he’s this damn good.

“Yeah, no I uh-. Sounds like it’d be important,” he offers up, suddenly feeling out of his league. It’s not like he can commiserate or agree with you from experience. 

“You uh… wanna watch something else?” you ask him, quickly changing the subject. 

“Sure, yeah,” he replies, tossing you the remote. 

“Thank you,” you smile at him as you take it. 

You begin scrolling through his smart TV’s apps, searching for a movie to put on in the background. The sounds of the rain falling harder and harder against his apartment windows fill his ears since nothing is playing in the background just yet. He doesn’t remember hearing about a storm, but it must’ve come on unexpectedly. 

Carmy watches you as you explore your options, and he feels like his heart is going to explode out of his chest at the thought of some asshat sitting here on this couch with you – someone that’s not him. He swallows, suddenly aware that he’s clenching his fist. He relaxes it, beginning to fidget with a spare key chain that lays on the coffee table. 

“You end up calling your brother?” you question, in reference to the last conversation you’d had about his Mikey. 

You’d encouraged him to call, even though it seemed like Michael had been in touch lately. 

“Yeah,” he sighs, disappointedly. “Didn’t pick up.”

“Sorry,” you sympathize, giving him an apologetic smile. 

You decide on the first John Wick film when you learn that Carmy’s never seen it. You insist that it’s a classic and he tells you something along the lines of ‘that’s something my cousin would say.’ As the movie rolls on, you stretch your legs out, curling them in towards the back of the couch, while Carmy relaxes, taking up the space of the couch on the outside of you. 

“I can’t believe you like this!” Carmy exclaims, gesturing towards the graphic depiction of violence on the TV. You watch Michael Nyqvist’s character shoot Willem Dafoe’s character multiple times, completely unphased, as he searches your face for any kind of emotional reaction. 

“What?! Being a woman in a male dominated industry… I’ve found that watching action movies brings a sort of… catharsis to me,” you defend yourself playfully. 

“So what you’re saying is… I’m sitting across from a psychopath?” he jokes, crossing his arms over his chest. “That’s great.”

“Yeah,” you reply, matter of factly. 

Carmy laughs dryly, his eyes flickering back to you. Your face, lit only by the dim cool hues of the television screen, seems more beautiful than ever. He wonders where the hell that thought came from, brushing it off like it’s nothing. Taking a more teasing tone, he lifts his head to ask:

“And how many times have you fantasized about doing that to me?” 

You smirk, shaking your head as you reply, “You don’t want to know.”

He rolls his eyes playfully, letting out the smallest chuckle, before settling back into his spot on the couch. You laugh once again, enjoying this way more than your fancy dinner date. 

You’re not sure how you’ve both managed to fall asleep in the midst of an action movie, but when you finally come to, you’re halfway through the second John Wick film and Carmy’s fast asleep. Your phone’s managed to fall on the floor, and you have to lean over Carmy’s legs to grab it.

“Shit what time is it?” he stirs, peeking an eye open as you lean over his feet, reaching for your phone. He finds the TV remote right next to him, hitting the pause button. 

“Uh… 2 am,” you answer, sleepily, beginning to sit up. “I should probably go.”

“No, I’m not gonna make you uh-… you wanna take the bed?” he asks, mirroring your body language and sitting up with you too.

“Oh! No, it’s okay. I’m comfy right here,” you reply, returning to your spot on the couch.

“You sure?” he asks. 

“Yeah,” you reassure him. 

“Okay uh…” he says, making his way up to his feet. “... let me get you a pillow and a blanket.”

“Thanks.”

It’s not that you wouldn’t take the bed, but you’d hate to kick him out of his own bed. And truthfully? You can’t stand the fact that he doesn’t even have a bed frame. 

That’s right.

The man sleeps on a mattress on the floor. 

As Carmy returns to you, pillow and thick comforter in hand, the only sounds that fill the room are the storm outside. You watch as he gently places the pillow down on the couch for you, and you thank him as you take the comforter, laying it across the couch. 

The sounds of a low rumble of thunder fill your ears and you can feel the way the sound reverberates off of Carmy’s apartment.

“You sure you don’t want to take the bed?” Carmy asks you, running a tattooed hand through his messy curls. 

“I’m sure,” you reply confidently. 

“Okay,” he resigns himself. “Need anything else?”

Just you. 

“No, Goodnight, Carmy,” you say, with a soft smile on your face. 

“Goodnight,” he replies, with the slightest wave. 

Carmy leaves you for his bedroom, closing the door behind him. You slide underneath the thick comforter he’s given you, closing your eyes in an attempt to lure yourself back into another slumber. 

But it’s not so easy to fall asleep this time. 

It’s funny… thinking about Carmy being in the next room. It’s not like you hadn’t fallen asleep together on the couch before. In fact, you’d napped on the couch with each other multiple times. And nothing had ever happened. You’d just slept. You wonder if you should’ve taken the bed. Should’ve told him to grow up and that you were both adults who could sleep in the same bed together without things getting weird. Unless… 

All of a sudden, your mind is invaded with flashes of a fantasy: your fingers tangled in his perfect curls, his lips on yours, the way his body would feel on top of yours as you writhe underneath him… 

Holy fuck. What are you thinking?! You and Carmy are just friends. Carmy doesn’t feel that way about you and you don’t feel that way about him, you think to yourself, snapping yourself out of the vision.

You go over the facts in your head, in an attempt to calm yourself down. You’ve been here before. He’s never made a move on you. You’ve never made a move on him.

You’re just friends. 

Maybe you just need a cold glass of water… or a cold shower… 

As you sit up to get a glass of water, you let out the smallest gasp as Carmy’s bedroom door swings open. He stands there, staring at you with unwavering eye contact – one of those long languid looks that used to think meant he hated you. 

For a moment, then tension is thick. You hear another crack of thunder that shakes the floor as a bright flash of lightning from outside electrifies every molecule inside of his apartment. If anything were to happen between the two of you, it had to be now, right?

“Water,” is all he says. 

“What?” you ask, trying your best to hide your surprise that that’s all he said. 

“I-, I forgot water,” he stammers out, beelining for the kitchen. “Do you want some?”

“Yeah, thanks,” you reply as you rise to your feet.

You follow him into the kitchen area, maintaining your distance as you watch him fill up two glasses of water. You’re not sure what’s come over you tonight, but there’s something different inside of you. As he hands you the glass of water he’s filled for you, you could swear he gives you the most wistful look you’ve ever seen, making it impossible not to get lost in how blue his eyes are. 

“You okay?” he asks you when you don’t take the glass of water.  

Calm down, you think to yourself. 

“Yeah, sorry. Just tired,” you whisper, finally taking the glass from him. 

And just when you think this is all in your head and that Carmy’s going to return to his bedroom with a second thought about it, he doesn’t. He just stands there in the middle of the kitchen with you. He doesn’t take a sip of his water. He stays, his eyes fixed on you as the storm outside rages on, another crack of thunder ricocheting through the apartment.

It’s much louder this time – the loud booms and cracks of thunder alternating with brilliant flashes of lightning. 

Carmy opens his mouth to say something as the room is temporarily lit by another flash, but he can’t figure out what to say either. It’s just the two of you, holding glasses of water in your hands, trying your fucking best not to drop them as you stare at each other. He doesn’t know what he’d even say to you:

You’re irresistible when you wear my clothes. 

I’m holding onto this glass of water so tightly it may shatter. 

I think I might love you.

But he doesn’t say anything.

Doesn’t do anything. 

He doesn’t take a step towards you and you don’t either. 

You hope he can’t hear the shaking in your voice as you say, “Goodnight, Carmy. And uh, thanks. For the water.”

“Yeah,” he whispers, your words snapping him out of his head. 

“Goodnight.”

*

As you wake the next morning, you can’t figure out what the hell had gotten into you last night. You almost crossed the line with him – with Carmy, with your best friend – threatening everything you’ve built together. You’re relieved that you didn’t, that neither of you said anything, because the idea of this ending scares the hell out of you. 

“How’d you sleep?” Carmy asks as he comes out of his bedroom, his curls unruly and all kinds of wild.

In the light of day, you know it would’ve been a stupid idea – what could’ve happened seeming more and more preposterous the longer you think about it. 

“Not great, but I’ve had worse,” you answer honestly. 

“Should’ve taken the bed,” he points out, an ‘I told you so’ on the tip of his tongue. 

“Carmy,” you sigh, unwillingly. 

“Hm?” 

“Nothing,” you mutter with a shake of your head. 

“No, what’s up?” he asks you, taking a few steps toward you. He’s not tall, but he towers over you as you remain seated on his couch. You rise to your feet so that you have a little ground to stand on as you muster up the courage to finally tell him. 

“You need to get a bed frame. You’re a grown ass adult,” you demand, eliciting another dry laugh from him. You take a step towards him, closing some of the distance between the two of you. “And when that happens… I’ll take the bed.”

He shakes his head. He knows you’re right, and he can’t believe it’s taken this long for you to tell him. 

“Heard, chef.”

It’s another few weeks before you let yourself go over to Carmy’s – partially because you like hanging out your place with him more, and partially because you’re terrified that whatever juju put those thoughts in your head that night may take you over again. But it doesn’t, and you’re more than pleasantly surprised to see that he’s purchased a bed frame. It’s nothing fancy – just bed slats and risers – but it’s a bed frame nonetheless. 

“You ready?” Carmy asks you, as he’s just finished putting his shoes on. 

“Yeah,” you reply, slipping off your jacket. 

“There’s usually a ton of a/c in the shop. You might get cold?” he suggests. 

The sight of your bare shoulders in the tank top you’re wearing causes his brain to short circuit for a second. 

“Oh I know, but I like yours more,” you reply, reaching for one of his denim jackets that hangs on the coat hook. 

He smiles, watching you slip into the jacket.

His jacket.

The one he let you borrow you the night he got promoted to CDC.

“Now I’m ready. What’re you gonna get by the way?” you ask curiously, in reference to the tattoo appointment you’re accompanying him to. 

“Uh… was thinking like… a hand with a chef’s knife going through it. You know. On my hand,” he shares with you. 

“You’re so weird,” you blurt out, even though you find it the most endearing.

He is. And yet, you’ve stuck around so far. 

“Yeah, I am,” he chuckles to himself. 

*

“He literally bought a bed for you!” Liz exclaims enthusiastically, one night after work. 

“For himself,” you correct her in hushed tones, asking her to lower her voice. 

“Uh no… for you. Because you told him to. And because he wants to get you in it… naked,” she replies. She lets out a frustrated groan before turning to you. “You know what me and Maya call you?”

“What?” you ask, bracing for whatever nickname she’s about to share with you. 

“The Queen of Denial,” she says. 

“What!?” you exclaim this time, defensively. 

Liz chooses to ignore your response, knowing that your defensiveness comes from the fact that you know she’s right. 

“Why are you going out on these dates with guys you don’t even like when Carmy is right there?” she asks you, pointing out the obvious. 

“I-, I don’t know. I don’t get the sense that he’s interested in dating… anyone,” you admit, your voice softer this time. 

“Well, have you asked him?” she states, as if she already knows the answer. 

“We talked about it once,” you hesitate. 

“Bullshit! The conversation about what Nate said doesn’t count!” she pushes you. 

You sigh. There’s so much fear for you here: fear of losing him as your friend, fear of making yourself look like a fool, fear of letting Carmy love you. 

Because it just feels safer not to acknowledge any of these things.

“I don’t know,” you admit, quietly. “After my last relationship I just… I don’t know if I'm ready, I guess. And then pandemic happened and it was a much welcomed break from dating. I didn’t expect… I didn’t think Carmy and I would get this close. I don’t want to fuck up what we have right now, you know? Dating other people feels like… lower stakes.”

Liz takes a moment to let you hear what you’ve just said, but with an unwavering determination, she’s not letting you off the hook. 

“Sweetie, I love you. And I know you don’t want to get hurt again. But one of these days you are going to have to own up to what’s really going on between the two of you. Sooner rather than later. For all of our sakes,” she pleads.

She’s right. 

You know she’s right. 

But you’d also like getting to pretend, even for a little while. 

Because pretending is easy… uncomplicated… and right now, it seems to work for both you and Carmy. 

Fuck, you were fucked.

read chapter four

taglist: @allthefandomstogether @gaysludge @sobshoney @harrysmatcha @starbritestarlite @tpwkkmila @cool-girl-is-hot @nunya7394 @galaxyprincess51-blog @carmensberzattos @blue-weekends @the-nursery

[workingclasshistory]

On this day, 7 June 2020, the brother of a Seattle police officer drove his car at high speed into a Black Lives Matter protest in the city, then shot a Black protester. The driver ploughed into the protest at high speed, in an act reminiscent of the white supremacist terrorist attack in Charlottesville which killed Heather Heyer in 2017. One of the protesters, Dan Gregory, confronted the driver and grabbed his steering wheel, trying to protect the crowd. The driver then sped up, forcing Gregory to let go and give chase on foot. He soon caught up to the car and punched the driver, who then shot Gregory and fled, then handed himself into police. Gregory, himself the son of a former Baltimore police officer, survived and later told Sara Jean Green of the Seattle Times: "I would do it again. I would die for people I don’t know. That’s me." In 2023, the shooter was sentenced to just 24 months of probation and had his driving licence suspended for 30 days, having played guilty to reckless driving. Charges of first-degree assault were then dropped by prosecutors. Amidst a wave of protest in defence of Black people's lives, scores of people began ramming their vehicles into demonstrators. The Boston Globe found 139 rammings between May 2020 and September 2021, which killed at least three and wounded 100 people, including multiple attacks by white supremacists. Fewer than half of these incidents resulted in criminal charges. Meanwhile, Republicans in 15 states around the country attempted to introduce laws to legalise or prevent lawsuits against attackers who killed protesters with their vehicles, successfully introducing them in states such as Florida, Iowa and Oklahoma. Pictured: Gregory after being shot https://www.facebook.com/photo.php?fbid=640107084829177&set=a.602588028581083&type=3

[lowkeyrobin]

you asked for tommy request here you go pookie!! 🦕

okay so the whole tommy hates american things, he meets reader online and they dont say where theyre from but boom babey theyre american

but but double whammy they have a very strong southern accent and tommy doesnt understand a word they say

bro straight up just like sits there, chin in hand, admiring reader while they go off but he cant understand a damn thing

top comedy right there imo

okay 🦕 I think you might be a southerner... TRUMP 2024 MAKE AMERICA GREAT AGAIN!!! 💥💥💥💥 /j

TOMMYINNIT ; southern accent

summary ; you use a voice changer and change your voice with ease, but reveal your accent when you meet him in real life

warnings ; language, American & British stereotypes ig

genre ; fluff

word count ; 856

masterlist

Tommy had this whole bit about hating Americans, which you played into, successfully by never revealing where you were actually from. In honesty, you had a pretty obvious southern accent, but were usually able to hide it or use a voice changer, since you wanted to save the reveal for a meetup in real life.

Somehow, you were able to hide this for nearly five years, tricking Tommy. Although you'd let some friends in on it, and the very early wave of fans as well, most of which probably don't even watch you anymore. But, now you were finally meeting him in the UK.

You obviously would've come much sooner, but life had caught up with you and you went on a half-year hiatus and got busy with school duties around 2021-2022. But, finally, in early 2024, you were finally able to work out a solid two weeks to go to the United Kingdom and meet the blonde after all these years.

No one told you how scary airplanes were, though. Yikes on bikes.

-ˋˏ ༻❁༺ ˎˊ-ˋˏ ༻❁༺ ˎˊ-ˋˏ ༻❁༺ ˎˊ-

Meeting him was a dream come true, out near the water where you met at the pier, your luggage still with you because it was a solid twenty minute walk to your hotel. The salty sea air brushing against your face, his face, his whole presence in general, the vlog camera with him.

You instantly wrap him in a hug when you see him, and he does the same, lifting you off the ground a bit. You yelp as you feel it and he carefully sets you down, a wide smile on his face. You decide to hide the accent for now, covering it up just for now.

He invites you down to a little library not too far away, wanting you to be able to drop your stuff off safely and go eat, considering you both needed food. You agree and begin making the walk towards your hotel using Google Maps, taking in the scenery and new culture you'd been surrounded with.

In no time, you're at the library, sitting in the back with wraps in your hands, talking and relaxing in the empty music corner away from other patrons.

"No, and the lady in front of me starts making a fuss, and the other girl said "Don't make me turn into Danielle Bregoli!", Ma'am, what??"

"What?" He laughs, almost spitting out some of his food as he covers his mouth.

"Like I'll go get a fucking cowboy hat, put it on, and it'll probably scare you away!" You say, purposefully letting your accent slip out through your lips, giggling in the process.

The blonde blinks rapidly, trying to figure out what you said. "Sorry, what?"

You quickly clasp a hand over your mouth and smile, your words muffled as you spoke. "I'm from America, Tommy. I have a natural southern accent" You laugh, "I've been just covering it up and using a voice changer all these years"

"Just when I thought you reached the lowest of lows!" He smiles, playing into the joke, "I have no idea what you're saying"

"You can't understand my redneck ways? You fuckin' democrats... Trump 2024!!"

Tommy takes a moment, still unable to understand your accent, just listening to you talk. He has his chin in his free hand, watching you use your hands to speak while you smile and giggle, playing into the Americans versus British joke.

He genuinely can't understand a word you're saying, but he finds it adorable in a way. This is the way you really spoke, and you were comfortable enough to do it with him, and he honestly found it funny as well. He sets his wrap down on top of the paper bag it came in, running a hand through his hair as he stares at you with loving eyes.

You drifted the conversation from biscuit-eating-Brits and the American economy and lack of human rights back to stories about the airport and airplane trip to him, having a dozen stories to tell. It was a nightmare, really.

"No, I never knew how fucking expensive airport food is! I should've eaten before going, I thought it would've been more convenient to eat there, but no, apparently not. And some guy at the salad bar at the airport kept staring at me all weird for no reason. Like, you're jealous, I know, but doesn't excuse staring, my guy"

Tommy smiles and giggles, barely able to understand you. He uses his internal dictionary to unravel some words, but not all that much. He finds it ironic how you can always decode his British slang but he can't understand a word you're saying in the moment, but he feels a sort of serenity in it.

A wave of dopamine crashes against the shore of his brain, causing him to giggle as you make a little explosion sound and use your hands to imitate the boom. You see him smiling and giggling, assuming he can completely understand you.

Rule one of TommyInnit, teach him southern accent before meeting him, he has zero idea what you're saying.

[satellitespinner]

˗ˏˋ sidelines - prologue ´ˎ˗

˗ˏˋ surpriseee!! another collab fic with my lover @williamssgirl !! are we really surprised doeeeee ?? :3 ´ˎ˗

synopsis: you’ve been going to saltwitch beach every summer for as long as you can remember, and you wouldn’t change it for the world..

wc : 1.1k (i’m sorry.)

summer ‘21

summer was finally here and you were ecstatic! summer meant salt-witch and that meant you got to see ellie and abby again.

you’ve known abby and ellie for as long as you could remember, they’ve always been the one constant in your life, the only people you know can always fall back on them and know they’ll always be there for you.

the ride up to salt-witch was slow, as always.

maybe if your dad would finally cave and let you bring your own phone to saltwitch and not insist on you staring at your phone all day (even though you never stare it at for that long anyway) from your constant begging and get you a phone just like your brother you would actually have some entertainment.

a sense of excitement coursed through your veins as the many blue and white summer houses started to come into your line of sight, but ultimately is replaced with a sense of confusion when only abby’s car is to be seen outside the summer house.

jerry waved your father over almost immediately, rushing out of the house to catch up to abby who was already outside waiting for the both of you. You’re quick, however, to realize ellie is nowhere to be seen.

“hey, what’s up abby!” your brother says as he walks over to her with a huge smile on his face. she doesn’t hesitate to wrap your sibling into a breathtaking hug, ten months was a long time without seeing the people you grew up with, after all.

she pulls away from your brother and looks down at you, “hey, kid” instead of a hug you’re met with a smile and her hand meeting you head, ruffling your already fairly messy hair. god you hated that.

“when will you stop that?” you ask, rhetorically. “and, where’s ellie?” you look up at the pair. abby and your brother exchange a look, partnered with a sigh from the blonde.

“i’m afraid there’s no ellie this summer.” she delivers the news with a really real looking frown on her face. you almost believed her.

“yeah right! ellie wouldn’t miss summer here for anything.” you laugh awkwardly, subtly prying for more information on her whereabouts.

“i’m serious, kid. something happened back home.” the look on her face now tells you she really wasn’t kidding, you can see now that the frown was not sarcastic.

“oh shit. i’m so sorry.” you sheepishly reply, your face feeling hot from embarrassment. “that’s so… unlike her.”

“all good.” she responds, before grabbing your brother and running off to the pool, they didn’t even unpack, leaving you with his and your own bags while your parents caught up on the last couple months.

ellie didn’t show face at all that summer, no facetimes, no texts, nothing. she became a ghost. you had tried to convince abby to give you more information on what the hell happened that made her skip summer in saltwitch and stay in boring old jackson, but she wouldn’t budge.

eventually, you forced yourself to give up, you had accepted the fact that ellie wasn’t coming this time and you couldn’t change that.

that summer went by slow. no ellie meant no fun in your eyes, often times you thought of her when the group would do something fun like play mario kart, or sneak out to the beach at night when your dad’s were dead asleep. without her, you were there for nothing.

soon enough, the summer of 2021 was officially over, and it was time to go back to the real world. that world consisted of homework, set bedtimes, and neither ellie or abby.

you waved goodbye out the back seat of your dads red minivan, brother beside you. sighing as abby and her father faded into the distance and you’re forced to look out the side window, maybe next summer would be different.

summer ‘22

another summer without ellie and at this point you weren’t even sure when you would see her next. abby and your brother still refused to give up any information about how she was doing, where she was and what made her skip not one, but two summers in a row!

you also learnt to stop forcing yourself into your brothers group alongside abby. They only saw you as some annoying kid, and you got tired of it. branching out was good for you. that’s how you met dina and her boyfriend, jesse. one moment you were relaxing on the beach, and the next you were shoved into a volleyball game with the couple and their friend insisting they needed one more player.

this summer flew by, it felt good to meet new people instead of being stuck at home with your brother and his two friends playing mario kart.

you waved goodbye out the back seat of your dads car, once again. sighing as dina, jesse and cat faded out into the distance. texting them the entire ride home, without ellie crossing your mind once.

present - summer ‘23

a lot had changed since the last time you saw ellie. 16 to 18 tends to change a person more than you would think. You had managed to make friends last summer, you grew out of your awkward pre-teen habits and eventually became a version of yourself that you liked waking up as.

you also took notice to the amount of boys who would look your way after you had (in your mothers words) blossomed. however, you never paid them any mind.

friends of yours would sometimes ask you if you even liked boys and to that you would stay silent before changing the subject.

your childish crush on ellie never truly went away, no matter how many times you tried to convince yourself that it had run its course. usually it lingered well into the school year and before you could fully get over it, you were back at the summer house, with ellie.

the ride there wasn’t so bad this year, considering you just tuned out your family the second you sat down, your “summer ‘23” on blast the entire drive up.

when you finally arrive, the first thing you notice jerry and joel’s vehicles, the sense of dread you felt those past two summers returned, but not because she wasn’t here, but because she was here.

stepping out of the car you noticed right away that they both looked different. the once awkward, dinosaur obsessed ellie pressing a yellow vape to her lips before passing it to abby, who went from lanky and tiny to buff and strong. she looked really good.

when the girls finally turn heads and make eye contact with you, you can see them both look you up and down then look at each-other.

you all had done a bit of growing up those two years.

[fereldanwench]

A Personal, and Final, Reflection on A Certain Fandom

Having spent the past week and a half away from the Tumblr side of the C*b*rp*nk community after a resurgence of old wank (not hashing out the details–IYKYK), I heavily weighed the pros and cons of saying anything else. Ultimately, I decided for my own peace of mind and ability to fully move forward, I do want to say a few things (or a lot of things, given how long this is). This blog is my personal archive first and foremost, and I think writing a “final chapter” will help me find closure. I’m also choosing to publish this because, at the risk of sounding presumptuous, I think my mistakes and subsequent revelations might be good learning experiences for others, too. 

Like many of us, just by the nature of when this game was released, I entered this fandom during a very fragile, tumultuous time in my life–Well, sort of, let me back it up a little: I actually initially entered it during a great time in my life. It was July 2021, I had just enjoyed about 6 weeks off from work after quitting a demanding job that had sucked the life out of me for almost 10 years, and I had started a promising new job. I even bought the game with the first paycheck from said new job!

Unfortunately, while I had been told that this position was temp-to-hire, not only was it not a path to a permanent role, but because I completed all the work in my contract over a month sooner than they anticipated (early September vs late October), I was being let go early because they had nothing else for me to work on. I was literally told over the phone, “You did amazing work, you got us caught up through November, but we don’t have anything else for you.”

Cue about 6 months of recruiters ghosting me, exhausting interview processes, demoralizing rejections, and scam upon scam upon scam, all culminating in me returning to the job I had been so happy to leave a year earlier. And while my old coworkers were ecstatic to have me back, I couldn’t help but feel like a complete failure. I took what I thought was a calculated risk, I thought I could do something better for myself, and I couldn’t. It’s something I’m still struggling with today, honestly.

On top of this, I also experienced a debilitating physical health episode in January 2022 which led to me being effectively bedridden for about 3 weeks. [CW: Menstruation, sexual health] I’m not sure of the exact cause–maybe a bad reaction to emergency contraception, maybe unsafe menstrual underwear, but it resulted in menorrhagia so severe I fainted from blood loss. My insurance had literally just ended, another wave of COVID was hitting, and I didn’t want to risk getting infected sitting in an ER for hours only to rack up a few thousand in debt to get a blood transfusion. So rest, iron supplements, and lots of meat and spinach and orange juice was the best I could do.

All of this led to my world becoming very small. I wasn’t working, I could barely do my hobbies or see my local friends, and simple everyday tasks like showering drained me of all my energy. When I was stuck in bed and could barely keep my eyes open for more than a few hours at a time, gossip was a welcome, low-effort distraction from the physical pain and fear that I might either have to put myself in thousands of dollars of medical debt or risk lifelong damage (or worse) from the blood loss.

I also found myself having groups of friends in a way I’ve never experienced before. I’m extremely introverted (even online, though less so than IRL), I have social anxiety, and the handful of times I have been “in” a group I was never really in it. I was always on the outskirts and usually just close to one or two people, max.

Regretfully, this set the stage for me to get caught up in the culture of rumors and speculation that permeates this fandom more than I think it has any other fandom I’ve been a part of.

Academically, I know about things like groupthink and tribalism, and I could see how those influenced the groups developing in the fandom, but I had no direct, personal experience with those phenomena. I think in conjunction with the other struggles I was dealing with, I ended up being incredibly susceptible to an us-versus-them mentality, which led me to feel justified in being unkind to people I knew had been unkind to my friends, even if deep down I knew what I was doing was antithetical to who I strive to be. 

I don’t share any of this for sympathy points or to smear anyone else or to avoid accountability–I still chose to act like an ass on a couple of occasions, and regardless of what I was going through, that was still inappropriate. I’m still responsible for my own behavior no matter what’s going on. 

But I do want to contextualize my fuck-ups for two reasons:

The first reason is ego-driven, full-stop. Not even gonna gloss it over. I can’t defend being an asshole nor do I want to, but I think it’s normal and healthy to look back on your mistakes and go, damn, why the hell was I acting like this? 

Even on my best days, I can be very stubborn and self-important and pedantic and judgemental, and I certainly can’t say that I’ve never inadvertently offended someone–Sometimes a joke might not land as I hoped. Sometimes I get tangled up in my own thoughts, burdened by an excess of nuance and details, and I express things poorly while I try to account for all sides of things. Sometimes I can get a little too opinionated about blorbo stuff. Sometimes there might just be a full communication breakdown or an insurmountable personality clash–But I can also confidently say that I have acted with good intentions in this fandom far, far more than I have with spite or because of petty rivalries.

And when I did get caught up in the drama and gossip and the wank? I was literally at the lowest point I’d been in a very, very long time. 

Again, because I feel like I can’t say this enough, that doesn’t make acting like a dick in a Discord server any more excusable, that doesn’t mean I didn’t hurt anyone, and that doesn’t mean that someone I hurt during that time has to forgive me or stick around for me to grow. Hurting someone because you’re hurting is still not okay. But I’m pretty sure every single one of us has had a bad day (or two or three or 365 or–) and made an isolated bad decision (or two or three or–) because of it–None of us deserve to be wholly defined by those moments or denied a chance to learn from those mistakes and be better.

And I think the most important takeaway for me personally is that I have learned from these mistakes and I have not repeated them. Some of these mistakes even helped me realize that I needed professional support for my mental health, and they played a role in my seeking medication and therapy last year. I still have a lot of work to do, but the silver lining to all of this is that I am in a much better place today than I was 2 years ago (even if this year also fucking sucks for non-fandom reasons and I would still very much like a goddamn break.)

The other reason I wanted to share my journey of navel-gazing and healing a wounded ego ~*self-discovery*~ is I think there’s a very good chance my story might sound familiar to others in the fandom. Maybe someone else can learn from my hardships and mistakes, too. Maybe you too were dealing with chronic fatigue or mental health issues or financial stress or isolation or all of the above and then some, and it led you to fixate on things that were harmful to you, to form unhealthy relationships with equally hurt people, and to act in a way that you know doesn't reflect who you are. The past several years have been so hard on so many of us, and I think we’ve all brought a lot of pain and misery into the community even if we weren’t trying to.

A somewhat shameful realization I had last year was I could recognize that kind of behavior in other people, but I completely missed it in myself. I could see how people were making this fandom their whole world and how it was so damaging to them, but I was doing the exact same thing and I just let it go completely unchecked because I thought I knew better. It was a brutal lesson in the pitfalls of pride. 

--------

So I was initially thinking at this point, I would take the time to address a few specific lies, rumors, and insinuations that have been said about me over the past couple of years. Because while I was a jerk in a couple of situations, most of the things said about me are exaggerations, if not outright fabrications.

And I did start writing a lot of that out, but as I was doing it, I was just overcome with a huge feeling of OH MY GOD I just don’t fucking care anymore. As one of my dear, long-time fandom friends has pointed out, there’s a great line about just this kind of thing from one of my favorite characters in one of my favorite games: “Why should it [bother me]? They don’t know me. I know me.”

I also really don’t want to run the risk of pulling anyone back into the fray (especially if they’re not even in the fandom anymore or if we’ve talked privately about certain issues) by even alluding to shit that happened years ago.

Instead, I would like to offer three of my big takeaways from the experience of being falsely accused of awful things:

You do not know nearly as much as you think you know about people’s fandom relationships. The one semi-specific thing I will mention is that I had been explicitly named a few times as being in cahoots with people I don’t think I ever even spoke to or that I had already drifted away from–Just because you saw two people existing in the same public space doesn’t mean they’re besties, bestie. Also, friends don’t always have to agree with each other, nor should we be expected to participate in a public spectacle of shaming if we do have a disagreement. People are allowed to resolve their differences privately.  

Not all conflicts/disagreements are inherently abusive or toxic. When you are hurting or dealing with unresolved trauma or starting to confront uncomfortable truths about yourself, the slightest disagreement can feel like a personal attack, but that doesn’t mean it is. Sometimes differences might be irreconcilable, but sometimes they might not be if you don’t automatically assume the worst of someone with a different perspective than you. Sometimes we just need to give the other person a little grace and the benefit of the doubt that they’re doing their best. And sometimes we might need to consider that it’s actually our own behavior driving the conflict and not the other person.

Even in situations when someone has clearly been unfairly targeted/victimized, that doesn’t mean they can’t also be a perpetrator of harassment/abuse to someone else. Victim and abuser are not mutually exclusive roles. I would wager a lot of us are familiar with the cyclical nature of abuse, and to quote a line from one of my favorite movies (admittedly a bit of a flippant line in the context of the film, but it still rings true): hurt people hurt people. Accountability for shitty behavior is never conditional, regardless of the pain we’re experiencing. 

--------

I titled this my final reflection, and I want to clarify what that means:

First of all, I’m not leaving this fandom (don’t everyone clap at once ha ha ha). I’ve been in various online fandoms since the early 00s, and while this has been one of the more challenging communities for me to navigate, it’s not enough to make me give up something I love this much. My blorbos are my perpetual muses, and I feel like virtual photography is the creative outlet I’ve been searching for my entire life. I love this game and hobby too much to stop creating and sharing.

I’m also not leaving Tumblr. While I’ve had this specific account since 2016, I’ve been here since 2010–Tumblr is not just this fandom for me. I have many friends (some I’ve known since my original account in 2010!) from other fandoms, and I’m not losing the best place to hang out with other people who are special to me just because one fandom got a little unpleasant. (I mean, look, I weathered the DA fandom here circa 2012-2015–This ain’t my first rodeo.) I also have a lot of hope for the Tumblr Communities feature, and I’m really hoping the VP community we’ve set up can continue to grow and flourish.

But I am no longer addressing any of this wank. If you have a problem with something I’ve done or said to you and you want to address it with me directly (preferably in a private space just so we don’t keep putting this shit on people’s dashboards), I am open to conversation and apologizing where needed.

Otherwise, this is the last time I’m talking about it anywhere. Tumblr, Twitter, Discord, publicly, privately–I’m done. I’m washing my hands of it. I don’t want to hear anything else about what other people have done or who they’re friends with or who they’re following or what they’re saying about me or my friends or any of it. This bullshit has taken up too much of my time and energy, and I have very important smutty shots to take. 

And I am probably going to continue to be less active in the fandom on Tumblr, at least for a while. You probably won’t see me here much until September at the earliest. This time away has been really good for me, and I think I need to continue with limited Tumblring and making the time I am here more structured. Plus, with some of my other fave video game series returning this fall, my blog will probably shift back to a more well-balanced multi-fandom space. 

I’m also going to need to diversify my dash a little bit more, which means I will likely end up unfollowing some mutuals, particularly if we don’t interact often, if you don’t tag, or if I see any mention of fandom drama–It’s nothing personal, but I know breaking mutualship can hurt a little, so if following me after that makes you uncomfortable in any way, please don’t feel like you have to stick around. I totally get it. Similarly, if it would make you uncomfortable for me to continue to interact with your posts after unfollowing (because I probably will if you post in certain tags), please feel free to block me. 

Okay. Christ, that was long. Shut the fuck up already, right? This is why I can't do social media with character limits. ghdfjgjhkfdgkfdg

Seriously, though, that's it. People are welcome to comment on this post if they want, but I really have nothing else to say about any of this so please don’t be offended if I don’t reply. I’m not ignoring you, I’m just… Well, done.

[pezberrywhoreee]

cruella x (fem) reader smut drabble!! 'the inspection'

Pairing: dom!cruella de vil (Cruella 2021) x subfem!reader

Words: 1,111

content warning: D/S relationship (heavy), degradation, mocking, cunt inspection, light mommy kink, mentions of torture

Summary: Cruella gives you some well earned attention...though not nicely or selflessly.

Note: Nobody on this planet is producing queer Cruella fanfiction and it's starting to eat away at my soul. I'll do it, bitches. I'm so disgustingly obsessed with this movie and this woman btw...i should be institutionalised. I'll try to hold back but I cannot promise anything :D. (if y'all like this, i may continue this, post it on ao3 (@faberryslut09). i just needed some to write something before i exploded from horny :))

You could already feel yourself practically leaking onto the hardwood floor of the kitchen.

Cruella hadn't explicitly ordered you to be kneeling for her by the time she arrived from a long day of hunting for the right pieces for the next collection, but you thought that it would be a sweet surprise. Plus, it was going to eventually happen that night so why not start the fun earlier?

Your head dropped and your hands clasped behind you back as the sound of the lift resounded throughout the warehouse.

The much present desperation invited a soft shake within your bare body, shivering in anticipation.

This was made more intense at the clank of the lift door opening followed by the rhythmic tapping of a cane and boots against the wood. Your breathing stopped momentarily out of fear when the sound came slower, almost feeling the need to look up but you could feel her gaze burning into your body.

The woman's evil cackle erupted in the quiet space, adding to the tension filled room. There was a hint of mischief to the laughter that sent a wave of arousal straight to your core. You tried to quiet the involuntary mewling noises rising in your throat.

"Oh darling~ how depraved". She chuckled, looking down on you, literally and figuratively.

Cruella's low, sophisticated voice never failed to bring you certain feelings of arousal and compliance. As soon as you heard that tone it was like clockwork of how instantly you were by her feet.

Your eyes fluttered shut at her mocking tone which was accompanied by her free hand in your hair, gently petting and playing for now. The trembling of your body threatened to intensify but you tried to compose it as best as you could. Much to the woman's amusement, you were still steadily shaking from the intense arousal powering your being.

Cruella began to circle your kneeling body, her cane tapping along with her. "How long have you been waiting like this, pet?". She asked, seemingly unbothered.

You kept your head down as you answered her, a betraying whine in your voice. "About half an hour, ma'am".

A refined brow shot up in response as well as a smirk tugging at her lips. "Well...consider me impressed, darling. Although you could do far better than that". She said as is if she wasn't convinced by her own praise followed by her usual condescending remarks. You felt yourself drip each time she spoke.

"On your back, I must inspect you". She commanded effortlessly. "You know how it is, pet", she whispered seductively.

Wordlessly, you placed you arms in front of you on the hardwood floor, lifting your weight to stretch you legs out and gently push yourself onto your back.

A sense of vulnerability washed over you at how she took in every inch of your body, the hunger in her eyes growing. That animalistic stare forever burned into your mind. You could feel her obsession just through her eyes.

A louder chuckle was heard from above as the light perfectly caught the small puddle that was underneath you. The woman placed her cane down and crouched down in front of you, eyeing the slick on the ground. The smirk on her face turned into a shit eating grin.

"Desperate, are we?" She mocked, her tone higher in feigned worry. A sigh left your lungs as you felt yourself clench at her tone.

You gasped as you felt the sting of her palm being brought down on your thigh. "Yes, mommy". You answered in a whimper.

She hummed her approval before fully kneeling down in front of your spread legs and groping at your flesh mindlessly.

"Were you thinking about me? About what I would do to you?". Her tone drove you fucking crazy. The lowness was one thing but her seeming lack of care made you feel like she was the only thing that existed. She had barley touched you and you could feel yourself falling into subspace.

"Yes, ma'am", you responded simply, waiting for permission to say more.

"Anything in particular, darling?". The woman asked, her fingers tracing shapes over your skin.

"I— need to be controlled and told how to please you. I will do anything— anything to feel your touch. No one can make me feel like you can. I need someone—smarter to think for me". You recited, desperation embedded in your voice.

"Oh darling~ I am quite aware that you're nothing but a stupid pet who can't think for themselves. I mean...would a non corrupt person get this wet just by thinking? I don't think so". She purred in an icy tone, her hands slowly making contact with your leaking cunt.

You felt the heartbeat in your core quicken as her thumb played with your slit, collecting some slick and rubbing it into your swollen flesh.

A loud whine escaped you when you felt her fingers part your lips, her hot breath inches from your cunt. You instantly covered your eyes with your forearms at how intensely vulnerable it was to get inspected by such a powerful gaze.

You refrained from bucking your hips at the now constant surges of arousal that all landed in your core. Air trapped in your lungs as you felt her nails dig into you thighs, each ounce of pain that she inflicted drove you further into becoming a mess for her.

"I want you to see the effect that I have on you, darling. Isn't it just so consuming?", She asked rhetorically, her glare pointed up to your face. She hummed once more when you lifted you arms away and looked down at her, unable to quiet the moan ready to make itself known.

"I believe you're more than ready to take me...but I could make you wait longer, see how much desperation you're capable of". She threatened, easily slipping her middle and ring finger inside of you due to your heavily aroused state.

Your eyes rolled to the back of your skull at finally feeling her inside of you after waiting so patiently.

Cruella pulled out just as quickly. "There's a spot on the floor that needs some attention, darling". She purred, referring to the mess that you made.

You instantly knew what she wanted you to do so you got on your knees once more and lowered your face to the ground. As your tongue reached the ground, your eyes fell closed in a secure sense of submission. Groaning at the taste of yourself, you lapped up every drop until the hardwood was clean.

"Good pet. How about some prolonged torture as a reward?" The woman grinned nefariously.

[mosquitogirl]

my little piece of advice to anyone younger than me is to spend as much time as possible outdoors and in nature, preferably visiting the same places often and throughout the year. maybe that sounds trite but i genuinely think there is so much perspective to be drawn from that experience, observing the coming and going of the seasons and taking note of little changes that take place from year to year. i worked full-time in an old-growth forest here from sept 2018 to sept 2021 and i came to know its 65 acres like the back of my hand, noticing when certain plants would have a good year or a bad year, when a tree would fall and open up a new pocket of sunlight on the forest floor for long-dormant seeds to take advantage of, when the river otters would unexpectedly come back and feast on the bullfrog and green frog tadpoles all summer long and i learned to be okay when things wouldn’t pan out quite as i’d hoped. there were winters i couldn’t find a spotted salamander no matter how many logs i rolled, springs that seemed to pass by in the blink of an eye, summers where the chanterelles weren’t quite as widespread, falls where the leaf color didn’t pop quite as much and you begin to learn to be okay with it. the seasons come like waves and no two are the same, but you can rejoice in knowing that another wave is always coming and that it brings with it untold surprises and new layers of growth. i think it’s easy when you spend a lot of the time on the internet to get caught in these microcycles and lose the ability to process time on a larger scale and to be fearful of the change that comes with it but its actually one of the greatest gifts we have and the sooner you embrace it the sooner you may reap its rewards <3

[droogiesanddiscourse]

HCs: Falling in love with Father Paul

Pairing: Father Paul x Reader (Midnight Mass)

A/N: WELL HELLO it has sure been a while hasn’t it. Life has caught up with me exponentially the past two years - graduating college, starting a full time job, personal growth and pitfalls. But, I truly miss writing, and was ready to attempt to get back into it after such a long hiatus. Anyways - hello, I love you all <3 I missed you all. 

Warnings: Uhh, blasphemy? I guess?? Mentions of sexual content. Millie is somehow gone who knows where she is. Very subtle spoilers for Midnight Mass (2021). ANYWAYS.

✧ You confess your love for him after Paul takes it upon himself to walk you home from assisting him in decorating St Patricks for an upcoming event. Often jumping at any chance to provide services so you could grow closer to the enigmatic priest, anyone with half a brain could see how you’ve taken to him within the past few months. Just three simple words that sends a ripple through him. “I love you.” 

✧ He takes in a deep breath, thinking carefully about his next words. Ever since his arrival, you have been one of his closest friends and confidants. “Please, don't say that,” Paul quietly pleads, exhaling from his nose. 

✧ Not because he does not love you, in fact, it’s the exact opposite. He can’t bear to see you be hurt, knowing that he could never reciprocate the love you so truly deserve. He’s hurt those that he has loved before -- and will wrestle with those demons for a lifetime.

✧ Father Paul has taken his vows, and is seen as a pillar of faith, stability, and morals within the community. Given a second chance at fulfilling those vows, even. Still unable to face you, he stares down at his feet.

✧  Shaking his head, his brown eyes meet yours -- glassy with tears threatening to spill over. “You’re so young, it's...natural to have feelings like this. You’ll get over it, it’s okay.” A beat of silence passes between you. “Things like this have happened before. To me, I mean. And it hurts but, you’ll find someone one day. You're strong. You just have to...ride the wave is all.”

✧ And you know that this is how it will be. That you have to be okay with the reality. Scratching the back of his neck, he starts up his usual conversation again. Like everything was normal. “Now for tomorrow I was thinking th-”

✧ But it’s not normal. You cut him off before he can change the subject. “I-I know it’s wrong,” you stutter out, feeling embarrassed and already noticing the urge to backpedal. “I know its against any type of decency, and that we couldn’t be together even if it’s all I dream about. But I..couldn't go another day without confessing my feelings. I’m sorry if this changes things between us. Goodnight, Paul.”

✧ Against all rational, he walks forward cupping your face between his hands before you can slip into the safety of your house. And he kisses you. Before you take back what you’ve said. Before the inkling of regret crosses your mind. Before you pretend that there isn’t an undeniable connection between you. 

✧ A kiss. Just once, hoping that maybe this one act would allow the both of you to move on without the prospect of “what if” looming in the back of your minds forever. Free whatever pent up tension was built. Paul has lived with enough regrets, and he didn’t want to add never saying he loved you, too. One dipped toe into the waters of sin, for the sake of a lifetime of purity. But the human condition is fragile;  love comes slowly, then all at once. And once it’s there, it’s hard to deny it. 

✧ A secret relationship begins to bloom between you. Subtle glances and gestures to each other during mass. Things such as his hand lingering on yours for just a moment longer than polite company, making eye contact with him that flusters him while delivering his sermon. 

✧ Intimately pressing his thumb against your lips as he offers you the holy eucharist, coaxing you to open your mouth. Pushing it onto your tongue when you do so, his finger lingers there for an unusual amount of time that seems...less than chaste to anyone viewing. The unholiest of thoughts passing through your mind. 

✧ Sneaking around after mass like a teenage couple, unable to keep your hands off of each other. A desperate flurry of lips, tongues, and hands pushing up cloth to gain access to skin. Paul asking you to wear your prettiest Sunday dresses only for him. You have opened up this new world for Father Paul to explore, being considerably less experienced.

✧ Father Paul is old fashioned. Expect flowery, beautiful love letters arriving at your doorstep almost weekly. Hand delivered, of course. They always have the distinct smell of him - a mixture of his cologne and the heady scent of frankincense and myrrh, lingering from his vestments. 

✧ Helping him understand how to use technology - while you know him as Father Paul, his true identity gives a more reasonable explanation for why he is so inept at modern technology. Others catch him constantly smiling down at his phone when your name pops up on his screen. You try to show him how to send photo images to each other, but often you get odd attempts at selfies that usually are blurred or too close up. While you prefer spending time together in person, it does give a safer alternative to constantly stay in touch without raising too much suspicion. 

✧ Most times you see him one on one to be at night, when most of Crockett Island’s denizens are fast asleep. Just sitting in your kitchen, conversing and laughing over a cup of coffee. Some nights things progress further to the bedroom, but other nights the two of you find happiness just in the company of each other

✧ Late nights in his cabin, your head resting gently against his lap. Paul’s one hand flipping through his well loved and worn bible. The other hand idly running his fingers through your hair. The sound of the murky waves crashing against the shoreline mixed with Paul’s low hums of familiar hymns becoming the soundtrack of the evening.

✧ Mornings after accidentally staying over, too late to return to your house yet too early to make an inconspicuous exit. The window open, the heavy smell of sex and salt water clinging to both of your skin. Sometimes you just stare at him as he’s asleep, watching his chest rise and fall. His usually furrowed brows at rest, and signs of age seem to just melt off his face. Reaching your hand out to run a delicate finger against the curvature of his nose. Of his cupid’s bow. It's sinful how beautiful he is. 

✧ He finds relief and only lets his guard down when you both visit the mainland together on some “church business.” This is the only time that you and Paul can reasonably be seen in public together. He can hold your hand, kiss you, and show as much public affection as you deserve without the watchful eyes of others. And stay together in a hotel room too, just like anyone else madly in love.

✧ Maybe you are his secret. One of many. But you are his best kept one by far.

[mirrorballhughes]

i miss you im sorry: luke hughes x adelaide hunter

hii i will be starting to write the actual fic soon! this is just gonna be a small portion of the fic on ade and luke going to UMich and meeting the hockey team :)

spring of 2021

the couple was at the hughes household with their college acceptance letters in hand. luke and adelaide were sitting at the table holding hands. adelaide was nervous, she gets good grades so she has nothing to worry about, but shes just scared of lukes reaction. the girls dream was to go to academy of arts university, that was allll way in new york. but she had some thoughts and over thought a bunch. quinn had helped ade with her decision.

fall of 2020 flashback

“academy of arts university is perfect for me q. but at the same time i think i would hate it. i just don’t think i could be away from luke.” the girl admitted, knowing quinn understands where she is coming from. the teenagers were always attached to the hip, unless they were both doing their own things. “adelaide thats totally understandable. you gotta go with your gut though. but to not be bias or anything i think you would fit in at UMich though.” quinn smiled, causing the brunette to shake her head. “they also have an arts program. a good fit for you.” ade smiled at the older boy, taking his thought into consideration, already having Umich right underneath AOAU. “thanks q. i appreciate it.” the girl hugged the boy as he rubbed circles on her back.

back to spring of 2021

“on three?” luke smiled looking at his girlfriend, then down at his letter. hughes & hunter family both counted down, “three!” the couple rushed into the envelopes going as quickly as possible. pulling the piece of paper out, reading their letters. “i got in!” they couple stood up looking at each other excitedly. “im going to UMich!” they both said at the same time, adelaide shot quinn a smile then brought her attention to luke, who didn’t comprehend what the brunette had said till it finally hit him.

“wait el, your also going to UMich? what about AOAU?” the boy questioned looking at his girlfriend. “new york is pretty far. also i feel like i wouldn’t like it. andd if i wear anything devils related i might get jumped.” she joked, causing everyone in the room to laugh, jack shaking his head at the younger girl. “i looked into it. they have a pretty awesome arts program. they were also interested in me because i used to be a field hockey player.” the girl said, causing luke to smile at el, pulling her in for a hug. “i'm excited ill be able to see you more! that means movie nights in dorms!” ade smiled, pulling her boyfriend in for a kiss on the lips, pulling away quickly as they were in front of family.

“well congratulations to you both! UMich will be honored to have you both!!” ellen pulled the couple in for a hug. they went around giving everyone a hug, ade whispered a quick thank you to quinn. “now whos hungry?”

august of 2021

summer came by fast and here the couple was now standing in the UMich campus going to find ades dorm first. the couple had found her dorm, walking in seeing her roommate wasn’t here yet. “okay let's get unpacking!” the girl cheered, looking at her boyfriend then to their fathers. quinn, jack and their moms were still at the car grabbing more of the girls' things. luke set down some boxes that he was carrying then started helping the girl set her side of the room up. they finished unpacking everything, their mothers did the last finishing touches and told them to go find lukes dorm.

adelaide found the curly haired boys dorm, “it’s down here!” she shouted waving her arms to get the group’s attention. their dorms weren’t that far from each others, lukes was on the same side as adelaide’s but in a different hallway. once the group caught up, adelaide opened the door and let luke walk in first. she followed behind him, seeing his roommate was unpacking as well. “oh hey! you must be luke, im dylan” the other brunette spoke, reaching his hand out for luke to shake it. “its nice to meet you. this is adelaide, my girlfriend.” luke pointed at the girl who waved. “its nice to meet you adelaide.” “its nice to meet you too dylan!” the pair smiled at each other then adelaide started moving lukes stuff in with the help of his brothers.

few weeks later

the couple was definitely enjoying UMich alot. they both met a ton of people and they were as happy as ever. luke wanted adelaide to come meet the hockey team, she was a bit nervous but not really. luke had met the girl at her dorm then headed to diner where the rest of the team was at. “don't be nervous love. they will love you.” luke grabbed the girls hand, noticing her shaking a little. he rubbed circles on the top of her hand to sooth her anxiety. “you got nothing to worry about. i'm here.” the girl smiled, kissing the boy's cheek as they headed down to the boy's car.

about 15 minutes later the couple was now at the diner. luke got out of the car, quickly making his way over to els side, opening the door for her as he took her hand. “if you wanna leave just squeeze my hand twice and we will go.” the boy kissed her forehead as she nodded, then they walked inside. “luke! over here!” a voice spoke causing adelaide to look up seeing a bunch of waving hands. luke smiled at his teammates then to the girl walking over there. “hey guys! this is adelaide.” the blonde smiled looking at the guys, there was about 4 people here. luke said there was 29 people on the team, counting him so the rest did not show. also by the looks of it, they are all freshmen and their faces look familiar ish.

“okay so el, this is ethan, mark, mackie and you already know duker.” she smiled at the four boys, “hi it’s nice to meet you guys. i have seen you guys around i think.” ethan smirked at the girl then to mark whose face was beat red. “what's up with estapa?” luke asked as the boy was usually hyper and talking. “well you see luke, mark was telling me about his hallway crush as he usually does right? he said she was wearing a devil's hoodie. so connecting the dots here, marks hallway crush is on your girlfriend.” mark glared at ethan, “dude!” the rest of the boys laughed, adelaide’s face got a slight tint of pink as she laughed along with them. the group got quiet realizing luke wasn’t laughing instead he was shooting daggers at mark. ethan grabbed luke and pulled him aside. “i can see the smoke exploding out of your ears right now hughesy. its just a hallway crush! nothing is gonna happen. look at the way she looks at you. she's madly in love with you.” the brunette boy reassured him as they made their way back over.

“you okay? it’s just a hallway crush. we all have them. i remember you had the biggest one on-“ adelaide stopped talking as she realized luke covered her mouth with his hand. “okay that's enough. let's eat i'm hungry.” he gently pushed his girlfriend into the booth sitting beside her. as the other 4 settled in with them, 3 on the other side and one more joining the couple. lukes hand rested on the girls thigh, watching her talk to his friends smiling to himself. luke was happy to see his friends and girlfriend get along so well. it just warmed his heart seeing his girlfriend smiling and laughing.

random facts

adelaide becomes close with mark but she only sees him as a friend and so does he. that sparkle in her eye is literally only a luke thing. but the pair just got along so well once mark stopped being embarrassed about having a hallway crush on his friend's girlfriend.

addie is also close with duker, giving the fact luke goes on mini rants about the girl in a positive manner so he knows pretty much everything about her because of the hughes brother. the pair also does tend to hangout a lot when the girl is waiting for her boyfriend to come back to his dorm after classes. out of all of luke's friends duker definitely knows her the best.

addies roommate, storm they clicked instantly. they got along so well when storm saw adelaide was wearing a devils hoodie, which made storm laugh as she was a canes fan. the pair would always sit down and watch their teams games together and always enjoyed when they played against each other. storm could basically tell you everything about luke as well. she could listen to adelaide talk about him for hours because she knew that was pure genuine love. storm was an absolute blessing of a roommate and friend. the two girls just got along so well.

storm and duker being friends only because of their roommates, they usually go on debriefing starbucks talks about the couple. the debriefing starbucks runs were only when the pair was fighting, meaning they would try to get to the bottom of the whole thing seeing who was right, who was wrong, and how to fix it. they were the ones who basically got the couple back together, they came up with this whole mastermind plan.

as adelaide was going to umich with the arts program, she was taking a bunch of classes for photography. she needed a subject to shoot so she decided to use her boyfriend as one. so during their morning practices the blonde would take some action shots of her boyfriend. as she was taking pictures of luke, some of the others caught her eye so she took pictures of them as well. she handed in the pictures to get graded on, as that was happening luke had talked to the coach to see if el could be on the ice hockey's media team.

the coach needed to see the pictures to make his decision. once she got the grade A photos back let the coach take a look at them. he approved it and then made el the media girl. she would take pictures of the team and do all the video work for any social media. sometimes she would also get to post on the ice hockeys socials at times. this made el feel closer with luke. she already knew tons about hockey before but this just opened something more inside her. she also felt this helped her get closer with his teammates, and luke really adored that.

if you guys want any extras like, certain scenarios (ex. how both of the couple are when they are jealous, how adelaide’s relationship is with quinn and jack, what songs are about luke and why, the couples reaction when luke got drafted, them at parties, hiw they got together, angst of any kind. anything like that!) but i hope you guys are enjoying this!! im having fun writting this :)