#i was trying to explain it to my therapist the other day and she was like ‘it sounds like someone could do a sociology study on this’

[batfossil-fr]

after playing FR for over 9 years ive realized it has become impossible to explain to people what has kept me here this long without sitting them down and giving them a several hour long lecture about the intricacies of petsite economies

[sadieshavingsex]

I don’t understand how splitting is about the fact that I internally feel all these bad things. How can that even be possible???????? How is it that when something someone does hurts me and I’m upset at them, it’s ~actually~ because I feel inferior, worthless, childish, stupid, etc etc etc and they are just reminding me of these feelings within me???????? Like why is it not just that they did something hurtful, so I’m hurt. Why is the simplest answer not the correct one???? I don’t get it

[krossan]

A Brief AU Explanation

I noticed that there are a lot of new followers that do know Danny Phantom, and others that the know very little. I am also aware that I haven't fully explained - maybe NOT in too much detail - the "story" and plots of my AU. You only have the ideas that I've been telling of this story through illustrations.

This AU is all about reconnecting with one self, with Jazz and Dan as the main two of this particular game.

Jazz remains as the same character that is portrayed through the OG show. She has always been the psychology enthusiast of the group, the one that cares for others and help with whatever she can. For her, others come first. First being her family.

On the other hand, we have Dan, an alternate entity of Danny’s ghost half and Vlad’s. A new form of entity that lost his humanity. For him to show any form of emotion is null.

Jazz involvement in this has to do with her putting everyone else first and then herself, and being keen to the study of the human-psyche, and now ghost-psyche, she secretly partakes to the role of Dan’s therapist. This was kept in secret from the rest of her friends and Danny until she can gain more control over Dan.

This, of course, prove to be a VERY difficult task. With her having to hide her constant fears when facing that “particular someone”: he could go on a rampage, have uncontrollable outbursts, cause havoc, and that he could turn against her any day/time without any remorse. She knows this, but she also knows that deep down, her little brother is still there. She’s looking to rekindle that part of him again. Of course, never knowing at what extent this could go.

And this, apparently started to bear fruit, although at a slow pace. As Jazz stood closer and closer to him, she understood that he stayed alone his entire life, and after losing everyone he cared, his violent actions were his significance of showing the world "hurting". The hurt he have been caring so many years. Now he has that second chance. To “live” a new life and Jazz wants to help him out.

With this new information, each time Jazz got close to him, Dan, instead of seeing her as an obnoxious-human-parasite, he slowly starts bonding with her. His interest increasing each day he is with her and grows more comfortable being around her (something Dan originally despised).

***

Part of this AU, enrolls on a particular context that the ghost of a halfa is sentient. The original show as proven this*. When Danny’s ghost has been separated, his ghost has a mind of his own, but when staying together, human-ghost, the consciousness of the halfa acts as one. *Episodes in question: What You Want, Identity Crisis, The Ultimate Enemy

This part that the ghost plays on the known halfas is a mayor plot point from this AU. Let me explain my concept briefly:

This roll that the ghost is part of the halfa is the one that caries the power of the wielder (human). The human can transform into the ghost and vice versa. The ghost powers remain within the ghost half. The human half acts as a vessel/host to the ghost half.

All living things have the instinct of survival. And on this case, the ghosts would do ANYTHING to keep their host safe as they are the means of a linked connection human-ghost. Not unlike the rest of non-halfa- ghosts that their link/host relies on the Ghost Zone -since they no longer have a corporeal body, the vessel for their survival is ectoplasmic energy, the one that emanates from the GZ.

***

Since Dan is no longer connected to a human, he became a full-ghost. An entity that merged from two ghost halfas. He can sustain himself alone, but strangely enough, he building a bond with Jazz, it rekindled what Jazz intended, but in an unusual way. Jazz intention was to try and reconnect Dan with his long-lost humanity. Even if he didn’t have a human half, both his ghosts may have some little information stored deep within of what that used to feel like. And even though that started to give results, the ghost also retained that of his original purpose: Protect the host.

And as the bond Dan and Jazz grew more and more, unknown to them, it caused a physical manifestation: a white streak formed in Jazz’s hair. And even if this came up as a surprise to Jazz, she later discovered that this manifestation was much more than just physical.

Dan rekindled his humanity but he, unknowingly, intertwined Jasmine’s humanity to his. Her humanity is part of him. Jasmine’s emotions have an impact on him. Whatever she feels, he can sense it, let them be good or bad ones.

They both are this new form of halfa, both human and ghost are separate life forms, but from the ghost side -Dan’s perspective- Jazz is acting as his human half. His host. That’s is why his instincts respond to protect her at all costs.

No. This new form of a halfa representation doesn't mean Jazz has ghost powers. The one with that power is Dan. This bond is more of a psychic link.

 (i.e. In European folklore, you “could” say Dan is Jasmine’s "familiar", although Jazz is not considered to be a witch, but imagine the possibilities of this small plot causing people or ghosts to think Jazz is a witch… idk… random ideas)

This is why Dan is more sympathetic towards Jazz and why their bond is very important.

______________

It's worth pointing out that I don't have a specific name for this AU, like many people do when they create these stories. And NO. Please refrain from saying this is a romantic relationship. It is a sibling/platonic relationship.

[star-anise]

are we talking about broke therapists yet?

I've been out of things for a couple of years now, which is why I'm willing to talk about it, and maybe the pandemic has helped things a little, but holy shit the counselling and psychotherapy field is not equipped to help its practitioners in the gig economy.

Of all my interests and talents, I pursued a degree in psychology because being a therapist is supposed to be a safe, stable, well-paid job. Every therapist I met who was registered before 2008 worked and lived under that assumption. And oh boy are all the fee structures--registration, supervision, continuing education, conferences--set up for that scenario.

After getting my Master's, I struggled like hell to get a job. It was especially bad because to get my license, I needed a supervisor to take me on. To take me on, most supervisors wanted me to already have a caseload and client base. To get a caseload and client base, I needed a job.

Friends: Every single job I heard back on wanted me to have my license before I could even land an interview.

Professors and career advisors and professional development specialists all advised me very earnestly to just keep cold-calling people on the supervision list, and it began to feel a lot like my parents' friends telling me to hit the bricks and hand out resumes. That's what worked for them, right?

I finally got a supervisor who agreed to take me on, and I'd be able to use her clinic for advertising and workspace, and we were doing the paperwork to send in with my registration, when she called me up and said, "Is this job going to be your only source of income? If you're trying to depend on getting clients and building your practice for your basic needs, this is not going to work out. This has to be something you're doing on top of a basic salary. Okay, so you're not working anywhere else right now? I'm sorry, I can't move forward with this."

Even once I landed a supervisor and a job building my own private practice, I struggled. I have ADHD and am not great at self-promotion, so trying to do all my own advertising, scheduling, bookkeeping, billing, and records management (on top of counselling) was an enormous strain. One my bosses, supervisors, and other senior professionals watched with a slightly critical eye, but consoled me about because in their early days, their clinics had had business managers, receptionists, filing clerks, and accountants, and getting used to doing everything online yourself was a bit of a learning curve, wasn't it?

I counted my pennies very carefully, because I had to pay my supervisor roughly $180 for their services every 6 hours of in-person counselling I did. This meant that to break even I had to charge my clients an average of about $30 (plus room rental and service fees) an hour--and my clients, being people with complex trauma, were frequently poor, disabled, unemployed, and had no health benefits, so even $10 or $20 a session was a lot for them.

Maybe it would have been easier if I could have taken some of those nice comfortable organization positions where they find clients and funding for you and you work 40 hours a week and get benefits and a pension, but I had to be disabled into the bargain, so working 40 hours a week just isn't possible for me. I start passing out from stress and exhaustion. Older colleagues gave me serious-faced advice about approaching my employer and asking them for some flexibility and accommodation in my schedule, and I tried to explain across the gap between us that employers simply did not hire me if I made the slightest noise about the workload. They weren't going to invest in me as a person; they were hiring 40 units of work a week, and if I wouldn't do it there were a dozen applicants after me who would.

At one point I broke down enough to email my licensing body because the Annual General Meeting/Professional Development Conference was coming up, and I wanted to attend, but I could not produce $500 to do it with. Was there some kind of way I could attend anyway? I felt ashamed to have to ask, and then absolutely mortified when the response came from the organization president, who needed to personally sign off on me being too poor to attend the single most important event in my profession's calendar year.

I honestly felt so ashamed all the time at how I was apparently failing to be a successful therapist, failing to be rich and successful, and every time I mentioned it around mentors and bosses, I could feel myself shrinking from a person to a problem to be solved. My closest therapist-friends and I have reflected on how much more difficult, poorly-paid and underworked, our various career starts have been than we were ever warned about. About the classmates and coworkers who couldn't get disability exceptions when they fell behind in their registration requirements, or burned out and left the field, or dropped their registrations and took up as life coaches, or moved their whole family somewhere exceptionally remote or rural because it was the only good job available, or worked for some godforsaken app skirting the bounds of malpractice like BetterHelp.

I like those conversations, because I feel less like an absolute fuck-up in them. There's less "Hey Lis, you were so talented in grad school, I really admired you, what are you doing now?" "Oh, I, uh... am professionally disabled, so I get government benefits, and I... sell embroidery patterns on Etsy now."

My own therapist kept asking if and when I felt like going back to being a counsellor, and I finally told him: I don't, actually. I don't want to go back and do it like I was doing it before. It was a profession I loved to the depths of my soul, and it profoundly did not love me back. I can't even imagine what would have to change, in me or it, to make it have a space in it that could fit me.

All of which I was way too scared to admit to at the time, because the more I let people know I was struggling, the more they hinted that maybe I just wasn't in a place in my life where this was a job I could do, and I needed to take a little break and wait to come back until money and disability just weren't issues for me anymore.

Eventually my cups of doubt and exhaustion did overflow, and I quit. I'm here now, living a much different life. And at the very least, all my years of helping people in bad life situations set me up perfectly for my own. I already knew what form to fill out for financial assistance, which student clinics to access for mental health support, and which government agency would, if pressed, cough out pharmacy coverage for the genuinely destitute. It gave me that much.

I hope this is just me being in extraordinary circumstances, sitting at the intersections of a few different shitty life situations that most people skip right past. Because it's on one level comforting, but another deeply infuriating, if I'm not, and I've just missed it or we've just all been too afraid to admit it to each other.

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

Wibta if I told my mom she loves a cat more than her own children.

I do feel like an asshole for this. I’m 17f and I have a younger sister 15F. My parents are married and for the most part good. When have a 12 year old cat that my mom just adores.

This part is all speculation, but when I very young like I was 5 or something my mom had an event that changed a lot. She stayed with her parents and would visits us. My grandparents would help out and no one really ever explained what happened to her but she lived there for like a year, she did move back in with us. My dad got her a cat to cope while she was away. The speculation is she had really bad post partum depression and had a break down. The reason I believe this/and this is my own theory, was when I was struggling mentally, my mom encouraged me to go to a therapist and they asked family history and she said she had struggled with depression/episodes and had tried medication but never stayed on. She just said when she was younger she had a hard time regulating emotions, and she wants me to worry about me and my own emotions. The post patrum comes from the fact that I asked my dad why did you two have kids and he admitted he wanted kids and my mom was more on the fence. I also find it weird she gets really nervous around Mother’s Day and will often try to not celebrate. (She always says she could be a better mom)

My mom is a good mom don’t get me wrong. She’s always encouraged my sister and I to try and do our hobbies. She’ll drive us where we gotta go. I know she works overtime when she wants to make sure we can do stuff for the family. It’s just sometimes, she seems more like a distant mom. She’ll listen to us, do anything asked, but idk how to put it into words.

But she really loves this cat. And I do love our cat too, but this cat and my mom are bonded. The second my mom comes home and the cat greets her and my mom picks her up and kisses her. She calls the cat her pretty princess and a hundred other nicknames. She calls me my dad and sister honey, bunny, and sunny. I know the cat actually makes my mom happy. Her eyes light up when she sees the cat. I know she looks forward to coming home to the cat. When we go on vacations she’ll miss the cat, or if she goes on a work trip she’ll always ask for pictures of the cat or ask to see the cat on FaceTime. She throws a small birthday party for the cat every year and makes a cake. For our birthdays she’ll ask what we want and sometimes she resorts to store bought desserts.

So this is where it gets bad. Our cat is now sick and probably has a year left to live. The vet told my mom she’s a good cat owner and has always done right for her, but with her age, treatment isn’t really the route because it’s not gonna prevent death, so just focus on making the cat happy and comfortable (this vet appointment was her 6 month check up.) My mom hasn’t been doing well mentally. She’s always struggled with mental health. She just seems to have a shakey mind at times if that makes sense. She very much before would hide her struggles, but we knew she’d have them. Before she would like stand still just gripping the counter with one hand. Now my mom is definetly depressed. She will come home be greeted by the cat, and go to her room and cry with the cat. She’s been just not happy.

My sister and I kinda decided to see if telling her we got good grades would cheer her up, and she’ll say good job and will sometimes offer to cook something or get something for us, but her eyes are just like very tired. (There is also an app she can use to check out grades but she never once used it and will just take our word face value) We’ve talked to my dad about this and he basically said that our mom has always loved animals (she use to work with her grandpa at a pet store he owned, but apparently her grandpa wasn’t a good person to most people in the family except her, so that was hard on her). I asked my dad what he thinks and says it’s normal for someone to be sad about this and that he’s gonna work hard or make sure we get all our needs handled. Which is nice, but I kinda wish it was my mom. I don’t feel dire need of anything, I’m just annoyed/jealous a cat can destroy my mom mentally.

My mom has gone over load for the cat. She cooks for her, makes her dinner buys the best food and mixes then. She often cries while cooking, and asks the cat if she likes the food.The cat doesn’t even know what’s happening.

I was looking at prom dresses online and asked my mom to look with me and she was just out of it. She would just say she’d like one or she’s not a fan but don’t let that discourage me. She’s just kinda lifeless. I try talking to her about it and she’ll aplogize and says she’ll get better. (It’s been like a week)

It boiled over when my mom’s sisters came over. (She’s the youngest. One sister has kids and one doesn’t) My mom tried to be happy and perky but ended up crying about the cat. Her sisters kinda said that she’s gotta be strong for her family and my mom just cried saying everything’s gonna be so much harder without the cat. I wasn’t in the room, they were in the basement, and there’s a vent where you can hear everything down there. My sister and I do easedrop to see what they say (her sisters are loud but we can never hear what my mom is saying without the vent. Normally we do it because my mom is a more different interesting person and again we don’t know our mom well. Away from us she kinda puts down the facade and actually talks). I was just angry. Her life isn’t hard. We’re middle class, if she wants to go to therepy she can afford it. We all deal with grief and loss. Yes I’m gonna be sad when our cat passes, but she is an older cat. I don’t imagine my life becoming “harder” other than my mom being depressed, but she is an adult who will heal from this.

After her sisters left and she was doing her night routine, I asked her if she loves the cat more than my sister and I. She said that’s not true and if she could do something more for my sister and I please name it. I told her that that’s the problem is that she does stuff for the cat without thinking, but for us it’s all asking us and she’s the adult she should know. She’s said she’s not a mind reader and she’s gonna rely on the information I give her to help me out where she can. I went to my room because ovbiosuly that conversation wasn’t going anywhere. I feel like my mom understands a cat more than her own daughter.

My dad came in a little while after and we talked. He assured me my mom loves me and this cat has been like an emotional support animal through the years. He mentioned my one friend who has an emotional support dog and compared them and told me that the cat has helped my mom emotionally with emotional regulation and just helps her steady herself. I asked if we were enough, or if my mom regrets having a family and she would just be happier if she just left us for the cat and lived by herself. My dad told me she loves all of us, but depression can be hard to navigate. I asked him about how he wanted us more than our mom and he just said that he was more excited, but my mom wouldn’t have had us unless she wanted us (which I don’t think is totally true.)

I went into my parents room and my mom was there with the cat. Again going to the cat for comfort. I told her I was sorry for saying she loved the cat more than us and she apologized for how her treatment towards the cat can seem that way and if I ever need anything please ask. It made me mad because she again is relying on me to know what’s wrong/ or ask, instead of her just idk taking initiative. I didn’t say that.

I get people can be mentally ill, but she’s also my mom. I do feel bad about telling my mom she loves a cat more than me, but I also don’t feel too reassured.

[theidiotwhowritesthings]

IS THERE A VERSION OF JOEL MILLER I WOULDN'T FUCK?

[a case study in how thirsty i am for this man.] [aka fic recommendations]

Unfortunately, in my extensive research on this topic, I have found some pretty damning evidence against my sanity.

dad's best friend!joel miller x fem!reader

Your Summer Dream [masterlist] by @swiftispunk It is a scientific fact that if you place Joel Miller on a beach he becomes 100x hotter. I don't make the rules, I just report them.

Creep it Real! by @swiftispunk I am a puddle. I melted and I'm a shallow pathetic puddle. Cowboy and Angel. I just hnnnnnggggg. I need him to ruin me pls dear god.

*I'm realizing if i include all the DBF!JM i read this will get very long, very quickly, and i think i have revealed enough of myself on this blog to highlight my very obvious daddy issues

**speaking of daddy issues...

stepdad!joel miller x fem!reader

Don't Be Cute, Be Nasty by @cockslutpadalecki i'm pretty sure this was the first stepdad!joel miller anything i read and it awoke something in my soul. it's always fun to reach new levels of my daddy issues and BY GOD was this just 🫠

Bad Girl [part i of many] by @seventeenpins he walks in on her while she's watching stepdaddy porn and good lord it gets filthier and filthier in the best kind of way.

boyfriend's dad!joel miller x fem!reader

Lost in the Dark [masterlist] by @iamasaddie i expected to be a slut reading this but then it made me an emotional slut out of nowhere i am obsessed. there is nothing i love more than being drawn in by my thots only to be hit by an emotional bus out of nowhere.

Thigh's Out AU [masterlist] by @toxicanonymity not only is this a boyfriend's dad AU, but said boyfriend's dad is a hot and slutty. just like i like my dilfs.

father-in-law!joel miller x fem!reader

Pink [masterlist] by @netherfeildren holy fuck. that's all. just holy fuck. this altered my genetic makeup.

Help, I'm Stuck! by @nosesitter spoiler alert: he takes her wedding ring off before dicking her down and I-- 👀 send help.

***i didn't think i had a lot of significant other's father!joel miller in my repertoire, but i had to stop myself again from listing them all on this one otherwise we'd be here all day. shit, i'm learning things about myself 🤡

dark therapist!joel miller x fem!reader

Session 1 by @elvinaa i think this only highlights how badly i need an actual therapist (as does this entire list actually).

sleazy gas station clerk!joel miller x fem!reader

Meet Me in the Back (1) & The Night is Dark Enough ... (2) written by @atticrissfinch It does not bode well for me that this version of Joel Miller made me so fucking feral. In no way, shape, nor form should a sleazy gas station clerk make me feel this way AND YET HERE WE ARE.

tattoo artist!joel miller x fem!reader

Honeyed [masterlist] by @softlyspector This one absolutely hits too close to home for me, but that's probably why I'm so obsessed with it. My touch adverse yet touch starved ass ate this up and left no crumbs😌

chiro!joel miller x fem!reader

Say Yes to Heaven by @pascalisbaby i thought the medical side of my brain would cringe at the doctor/patient dynamic but as it turns out my depravity knows no bounds 🥵

frat dad!joel miller x fem!reader

The Old College Try by @proxima-writes i didn't even know this was something i needed in my life until it came into my life. blessings🙏🏼

ceo!joel miller x fem!reader

Sex on Fire [masterlist] by @macfrog i don't think i need to harp on what that sugar daddy vibes do to me🤤

mafia!joel miller x fem!reader

Divine Dynasty by @cavillscurls Remember when I said putting Joel by a body of water makes him 100x hotter? The same applies to a Mafia AU. I can't explain it. I have no sound reasoning to support my claim other than "he hot tho".

pornstar!joel miller x fem!reader

I Know it When I See it [masterlist] by @bageldaddy 🔥🔥🔥 that is all.

maintenance man!joel miller x fem!reader

Maintenance Man [masterlist] by @gracieispunk toolbelt. say less.

slasher!joel miller x fem!reader

Slasher [masterlist] by @toxicanonymity i thought for sure, FOR SURE, this would be blind, pure, detached smut that i could enjoy with no emotional ties whatsoever. and then all of a sudden i'm feeling things??? he just loves his mom so much😭 mama's boy wants to be happy. JAIL. real jail for murderer joel miller. horny jail for me. and audacity jail for toxic b/c how dare you make me feel things for a serial killer😩

as i said previously, the evidence speaks for itself. i have yet to find a version of joel miller i could not immediately fuck. i'm actually planning (i have a lot of plans and no time smh), to go through all these on my recommendation blog w/play by play commentary so everyone can know just how unhinged i am for this guy.

but now!! you guys have a syllabus for my insanity!!

now, excuse me while i go find a therapist (a real one, not a hot/dark joel miller version of one) (although beggars can't be choosers right?👀)

dividers by @saradika

[algae-tm]

Kill Bill P.7

Charles Leclerc x famous singer ex!reader

Author’s note : all the songs are real although I’ve played around with who’s featured on what, but I recommend everyone listen to the songs I’ve chosen not for any particular reason just cause they slap and I had such fun creating a playlist for this AU.

Also, I have WAYYY too much time on my hands now that uni is over… so hope you enjoy - Algae🌱

•••••

INSTAGRAM

yourusername

liked by y/bff/n, lewishamilton, charles_leclerc, oscarpiastri and 32,324,487 others

yourusername : ‘TIDES’ out now on all streaming platforms 💚

y/bff/n : Now you did not play me Cellophane when i listened to this earlier! Why do you have me crying in walgreens by the edamame beans??

— yourusername : girl? do you want me to come get you?

— y/bff/n : please.

— y/bff/n : HURRY UP nobody gets me started playing and the cashier is wondering why I’m using grapes to dry my tears.

user1 : y/bff/n is so real for that cause what do you mean, “didn’t I do it for you, why don’t I do it for you?” y/n please explain yourself STAT!

— user3 : no cause the most devastating part, ‘WHEN ALL I DO IS FOR YOU’ y/n I’m in your walls, how dare you start an album like that wtf?

user4 : oh okay 😀

lewishamilton : So fun collabing with you

user5 : no cause we were robbed! we should’ve had XNDA on girls need love.

— yourusername : I was not about to sing about fucking and sucking with my surrogate uncle! Even could’ve been was too much for me. y’all should be lucky I brought the old man out of retirement

— lewishamilton : glad you made that executive decision but I’m not that old :(

danielricciardo : me rn - 🎧😭🕺🪩😭😢

— yourusername : I appreciate you Danny 💚

— yourusername : but make sure you give your therapist a ring yeah?

— danielricciardo : on call with her rn!

user5 : what’s everyone’s favourite track and why is it love on the brain?

— user6 : how could you even choose?? This might be a no skip album I fear.

user8: I’m sorry y/n did not lay out the 5 minute from the heart ballad that is Ex-Factor for y’all to just not talk about it??

— user9: “no one loves you more than me, and no one ever will!” You listening Lord Perceval????

— user16: “no matter how I think we grow you always seem to let me know… IT AIN’T WORKING.”

— user13: but like if she’s trying to send a message to Charles it’s a bit disjointed no?

— user10: ex-factor isn’t to Charles Leclerc

— user11: be so fr who is it for then??

— user10: it’s obviously y/n grappling with her conflicting emotions… it’s not meant to be for Charles. This whole album is her going through it. She’s sorting thru her emotions. Are y’all dumb or stupid?

— user15: alright now

user21: AHHSHHEJSJSJSKEDVDKZKSUDJ

— user23: real.

hallebailey: call me asap for any more collabs, had such fun on Forgive Me!

— yourusername: love you hal x

— chloebailey: do not call her! She got her chance call me! (liked by yourusername)

y/bff/n: SUPERMODEL??!!?? Another one you didn’t let me listen to???

— yourusername: cause I knew you’d smack me upside the head for begging a man to see me as pretty enough.

— user24: WHO DIDN’T THINK YOU WERE PRETTY ENOUGH?! CHARLES?!! LET ME AT HIM!

oscarpiastri: on repeat 🎶

— user31: Oscar 😭 it’s giving desperate

— user26: keep commenting, she’ll reply one day!

— user27: bros talking to himself in her comments

sza: album of the year I fear

— yourusername: Solana 💚 couldn’t have done it without you

user32: @oscarpiastri are you the homeboy she’s been secretly banging like she says on supermodel?

— yourusername: I have NOT been secretly banging anyone’s homeboy! Supermodel is the only track with joint writing creds! I fear @sza came up with that lyric. (Comment deleted by yourusername)

— user34: NO Y/N let Charles think you’ve been secretly doing Oscar!

— user35: @user34 love me some psychological warfare!

landonorris: first!

— yourusername: you literally are the last person to comment😒😒

••••

Y/N Strips Off Expectations on Her New Album ‘TIDES’

R&B superstar delivers sharp barbs and haunting melodies on her long-awaited LP, amidst relationship drama with ex Charles Leclerc.

By Will Dukes

June 10, 2024

If you thought the singles released prior to the album were indicative of the direction this LP would take, think again. Y/n’s highly anticipated latest release, "TIDES," is an ambitious and masterful exploration of love's euphoria and its darker, toxic undertones. Known for her sultry R&B style, y/n transcends genre boundaries in this 15-track opus, weaving together dance, electronic, pop, and reggae influences to craft a cohesive narrative.

The album opens with "Cellophane," a haunting electronic ballad reminiscent of FKA Twigs' ethereal work. This opening track is something we’ve never seen from y/n, yet her delicate vocals float over a sparse, echoing production, setting a tone of vulnerability and foreshadowing the emotional journey ahead. This track is a stunning prologue, drawing listeners into a world where love is as fragile as the titular cellophane.

As we transition to the 3rd track of the album "Forgive Me," the album's pulse quickens. The track opens with a haunting, ethereal intro that quickly gives way to a pulsating beat and assertive bass line, setting a commanding tone. Y/n’s and Halle’s harmonies are immediately striking, blending seamlessly while each woman’s distinct vocal timbre adds depth and texture to the song. Their voices convey both strength and a sense of liberation as they sing about reclaiming their power and refusing to apologize for their choices. Mid-album, "Doo Wop (That Thing)" introduces a surprising but seamless shift. The pop-reggae rhythm provides a laid-back contrast to the preceding tracks, reflecting a momentary calm in the tumultuous relationship. Yet, y/n’s lyrics hint at something more sinister, the song can be seen as a warning, y/n clearly saying to her listeners I’ve made mistakes and here is how you can avoid them.

I won’t blame anyone for mistaking her single “Kill Bill” as the climax of the album. That is what y/n wants you to believe but the climax arrives with "Mary Magdalene" an electronic ballad that ties with the opening track “Cellophane.” For me "Mary Magdalene," is a standout, embodying the album's central themes. Drawing on the figure of Mary Magdalene, y/n reclaims and redefines her story, exploring themes of femininity, devotion, and resilience. The song's intricate layering and hypnotic rhythms create an almost spiritual experience, inviting listeners to delve into its complex emotional landscape. The production is haunting, with distorted synths and echoing beats mirroring the disintegration of trust and affection. y/n’s vocal performance here is raw and powerful, her pain palpable as she sings, "a woman’s touch, a sacred geometry. I know where you start where you end. How to please, how to curse.”

"TIDES" concludes with "Mirrored Heart," a poignant ballad that brings the narrative full circle, echoing the album’s opening. With an album so tumultuous listeners would probably wish for a sense of closure. This song does not give you that, rather you’ll be left questioning ‘what’s next.” y/n’s voice, both fragile and resilient, lingers long after the final note.

In "TIDES," y/n not only expands her musical palette but also delivers a profound and relatable story. This album is a testament to her artistry, marking her as a versatile, timeless and fearless force in contemporary music. It’s a disjointed album, songs sometimes seem out of place, but like the title “TIDES,” suggests, and given the situation that inspired the album, that is exactly the atmosphere y/n was looking to create.

••••

INSTAGRAM

charles_leclerc

Liked by landonorris, danielricciardo and 1,256,712 others

charles_leclerc : best believe I’ll move on to better things

user1: do y’all hear that?

user3: not you using lyrics from y/n’s song it’s giving desperate.

user4: poor Alex

landonorris: what is bro doing lmao

user5: oh -

arthur_leclerc: if before you had a chance now you have 0 😂

— user5: oh Arthur’s messy messy

—lorenzotl: we want our sister in law back, and this idiot isn’t doing us any favours.

user6: I’m sorry this is so disrespectful to Alex. Just cause you guys broke up doesn’t mean you can do this

user7: lmao get a life

carlossainz55: cabron… this is not what we agreed you’d do 😅

lewishamilton: 😒

— danielricciardo: 😒

— georgerussel63: 😒

— y/bff/n: 😒

— francisca.cgomes: 😒

pierregasly: brother delete this 😔

— oscarpiastri: 😂

(this post has been deleted)

••

TAGLIST

@forevercaffeinated-lee @callsignwidow

[neteyamssyulang]

Supernatural

Day 2

Pairing: Incubus Adult Neteyam x Fem tawtute reader

Warnings: P in V, Dub con, Dom Neteyam, Sub Reader, Rough Neteyam, Creampie.

Word count: 832

Translation(s): Paskalin -> Honey, Yawne -> Beloved

Tagging: @teyamshuman @hidden-snow @anemonelovesfiction @ikeyniofthetayrangi @itchaboi-itchyboy @kia-wolfie @aria-tempest @loaksulluyswife

“These dreams.. they’ve been so- weird the last few days, it’s hard to explain but the dream always starts off normal but then it always ends up with this blue alien fucking my brains out and I wake up being sore between my legs.” You spoke softly, looking between your friends who were rolling their eyes.

Tanya, one of your friends, eventually spoke up “Yeah right y/n” she scoffed, “I think someone has been watching the avatar movies wayyy too much” Jessie, your other friend, added in.

Now they weren’t wrong, you loved to binge watch all the movies but it does not explain why you have the same dream every single damn night.

You went to open your mouth to speak but Jessie cut you off immediately, “Look y/n, we’re gonna go home now but I suggest seeing a therapist or something because your losing it babe”

They gave you both a pitiful smile and got off the couch, walked out the living room, opened the door and left closing it behind them.

Maybe they did have a point, maybe you were losing it.

Or maybe you weren’t.

An hour passed and you got ready for bed, doing your nightly routine but also putting a camera on your dresser facing your bed. Now you’ll finally have proof that your not crazy.

As always, you fell asleep instantly after getting into your warm, cozy, bed.

Your dream started off different this time, you were laying down in the huge fancy bed but no one was in the room with you.

Or so you thought.

“Miss me already paskalin?” Neteyam purred next to you, your breath hitched as you felt his cold hands on your skin, tracing patterns along your stomach before moving his hand down between your legs, swiping a single digit across your folds.

He smirked feeling how wet you already are “Yeah, guess you did miss me.” Before you could register anything, he pinned you down and crawled ontop of you, his cock already hard and leaking pre-cum onto your thigh.

“Wait wait!” You pleaded, pushing at his chest “Wait for what pet? You don’t want this?” He asked completely unfazed, placing one of your legs around his waist and swiped his cockhead teasingly against your slick folds.

“I.. I don- shit!” You screamed as he plunged his cock inside you, small grunts leaving his lips as your walls squeezed tightly around his thick shaft.

Once Neteyam finally bottomed out, he stayed still for a few moments just admiring you. How beautiful you looked underneath him with your eyes squeezed shut and mouth slightly agape trying to adjust to his size.

Doesn’t matter if you took him multiple times before, each time felt like your first time all over again.

Slowly he began moving his hips, his cock dragging against your gummy walls, coaxing out beautiful moans from your lips.

“Nothing to say now huh?” He chuckled, picking up the pace, his hips slapping against yours. “Ungh! Fuck teyam!” You mewled, his cock was hitting all the right spots inside you, making you see stars.

Your hands went to his arms, digging your nails into him making him groan. The sting was oh so delicious and only encouraged him to push deeper into you.

Neteyam leaned down, his hot breath fanning over your ear as he whispered “Your all mine y/n, mine. No one will ever get to have you besides me.”

Your walls clenched around him at his words making his lips tug up into a smirk, “You want that? To be all mine yawne?”

By now your mind has turned to mush, all you could think of was how good Neteyam was fucking you.

“P-please..” you slurred, already feeling your climax approaching rapidly. Leaning back up, he bit his lip and wrapped his tail around your thigh. Fuck you felt like heaven to him, it was only a matter of time before you would be his completely.

With one particular hard thrust your breath hitched and you came hard, gushing around his cock. Feeling your walls clenching tightly around him, Neteyam groaned, painting your gummy walls white.

Your eyes began to slowly flutter shut as he slowly began to withdraw himself from you, “Till next time, little one” he murmured.

You woke up to your alarm going off around 7:30, groaning you opened you eyes and sat up slowly, wincing at the familiar pain between your legs.

Quickly you got out of bed and went to the camera, grabbing it off your dresser. Stopping the recording you sat back down onto the bed and played back the footage you caught.

Holy shit- no..it couldn’t be..

He was actually there, fucking your unconscious body while glancing towards the camera.

Once Neteyam was done and pulled out, he got off the bed, walked to the camera and crouched down.

“Did you enjoy the show darling?” He grinned, sending a wink towards the camera.

[loverwebs]

It's Supposed to be Fun, Turning 21

Pairing: Peter Parker x Fem!Reader

Synopsis: Your boyfriend, Peter, doesn't make it to your birthday dinner. So you walk home alone, only to run into the friendly neighborhood Spider-Man.

Warnings: Slight angst & mentions of alcohol

Word count: 1,700

A very tired Y/n stumbled over the bumpy sidewalk of New York, cursing under her breath whenever she nearly stepped in a puddle. Her purse was crossed along her body and a bottle of wine swung from her hand.

She made her way home quickly and in annoyance, not wanting to be out any longer than she had to. With that in mind, she took a shortcut through an alleyway.

"Ma'am, stop right there!" A voice behind her shouted. She hesitantly turned, about to blow the person off, before she saw the city's masked hero within a few feet's distance.

"Holy shit! Oh, fuck did I do something? If it's the wine— I'm legally allowed to own it! And I have my ID, so please don't arrest me. I'm not even drunk!” a startled Y/n shouted.

"No, no! It’s okay," The vigilante approached her.

"Oh, okay," She said, touching her heart and sighing in relief. "Sorry for getting all jumpy there. It’s been a long day."

"No, you're fine! I didn't mean to scare you. I was just gonna say, you really shouldn't be walking home by yourself. It's not exactly safe, especially at night," He explained through an overly deepened voice.

"I know it's not," Sighed the girl. "My friends tried to get me to walk home with them, but my place isn't that far. And I'm really not in the mood to talk to anyone."

She continued her path, glancing back at him to add a quick, "No offense."

"None taken," He replied through a jog, catching up to her. "Did you just happen to be carrying around a bottle of wine with you, though?" He softly laughed at her antics.

"Uhh, yeah, just tonight." She returned a weak one.

"What's the occasion?" He asked, though he already knew the answer.

"It's my birthday. I'm 21 now and I wanna have my first drink with my boyfriend. He couldn't make it to my party and the restaurant let me bring one home with me."

She smiled sadly, lifting the bottle up so he could see the written For the birthday girl, enjoy! that a waitress had signed in permanent marker.

Peter felt guilty hearing this. Not only because he didn't make it to her birthday, but because she still waited for him. Wanting to share the special moment— despite him having missed it entirely.

"Happy birthday, then." The masked boy spoke, voice cracking as he said it. "I hope you spent it well."

"It was... eh. But thank you."

"Why was it 'eh'?" He asked, holding his breath.

"It's just, I don't know." She shrugged, not wanting to get into it.

She pondered for a moment, then, "I'm not trying to be rude or like, ungrateful, but don't you have actual Spider-Man stuff to do?"

He shook his head, "Making sure you get home safely is just as important as any other mission to me... plus, I wanted to make sure you were okay."

"That's nice, but I wouldn't want you to stop helping someone who actually needs it because of me."

"It's fine," He waved a hand in dismissal. "Don't even worry about it. I was pretty much done for the night anyway."

All she did was nod, not entirely convinced, then he spoke again.

"Sooo.. your birthday," He started.

"Right, yeah. It was fine, I guess."

"How come?"

"You're already walking me home, the last thing I want is for you to be my therapist too." She joked.

"Well, maybe I could help cheer you up... I like to help people. It's what I do."

"My friends already tried.. and failed. What makes you think you can?"

"I'd try my luck," He suggested. "Or we could walk in awkward silence."

She laughed at that, to which he said, "So what's got you down?"

"Okay, I mean.. like I said, my boyfriend didn't show up at the restaurant, soo I kinda spent the whole night staring at the door in case he did."

"Oh." He mumbled. "Sounds like a shitty boyfriend," He whispered, a little more to himself.

"He isn't," She shook her head a few too many times.

"He's naturally late to things, yeah. And he can't always make it to stuff. But when he is there.. His presence makes everything so much better." She said truthfully.

Peter hummed in understanding, his heart feeling heavy at her defending words. Here he was in a Spider-Man suit, meanwhile she wore her best party outfit. Not even cursing at the boy for his absence.

He didn't deserve her, he thought.

"Did he at least call? You know, saying he couldn't make it?"

Silence filled the air momentarily, which was enough of an answer. Still, she said, "He usually does..."

"Yeah?" He swallowed the forming lump in his throat.

"He— he always lets me know if he can't. And he did wish me a Happy Birthday! It's just— he's— I don't know what's going on with him anymore." She gave a teary laugh.

"Sometimes, it just feels like he's gonna break up with me. I feel like he wants to do it, but he's waiting around for the perfect opportunity, y'know?" She quickly wiped her now forming tears. "Sorry, I sound really pathetic."

"What?! No. No... You don't." He paused. "You— you really think he's gonna break up with you?" He dreadfully asked.

"I don't know," She gave a weak shrug. "He's like, distant lately."

"Have you.. Have you tried talking to him about it?"

"I've tried, yeah." She chewed on her lip nervously, thinking of the many instances where he canceled at the last minute when she intended on speaking with him.

"Like just this week, I asked to meet up after his afternoon class because I wanted to know if something was wrong, but..." She trailed off, holding back more tears.

"He canceled," He finished her sentence, wincing at her confirming nod.

"Right, and it's like, what am I doing wrong?" She added helplessly.

"Nothing! You're not doing anything wrong," He said through an interior panic.

"Doesn't feel like it."

They continued walking as Peter thought of the correct words to say. She'd laid her thoughts right there at his feet and he didn't know what the right move was.

He gave a desperate sigh, then proceeded to say, "I don't think he wants to break up with you."

"Seriously? That's what you're gonna tell me? You don't know that—"

"Hear me out... It's just, you know. Maybe he has a lot going on and.." He started, feeling overwhelmed.

"And maybe he hasn't been able to really tell you everything he wants you to know because he's scared. Scared to lose you. Or scared that you're already slipping away from him." He rambled on.

She slowed down her pace, tilting her head at him as a sense of familiarity within his words settled in.

He wasn't faking his tone anymore, and she wasn't as in her head as she was when he first found her.

"But you're not doing anything wrong, okay, Y/n?" He continued, voice breaking as he stepped closer to her. "I can promise you that."

She looked around to make sure the streets were empty before abruptly stopping in her tracks, eyeing him, when it finally clicked for her. She inched closer to him, while her shaky fingers tentatively reached towards the bottom of his mask.

She did so slowly, making sure he had time to stop her if he wanted to.

"Wait," He put his hand over hers. "It's not really.. It's not safe to do that here."

She understood and immediately withdrew her hand, taking a few steps back.

"Do you trust me?" He walked towards her, carefully placing his hands on her hips. With a nod, she wrapped her arms around his neck.

Just like that, he aimed at a nearby building and shot a web, swinging with her in his arms. Her body tightly hugged him as they made their way to the rooftop of Peter's old apartment building. The same place they had their first date.

A sloppy "Happy Birthday" was webbed above the projector that was setup, along with blankets on an old couch that they’d made out on several times.. A few of her favorite drinks and snacks placed there as well. She noticed them as he gently put her down.

She once again turned to look at him, but his mask was already off.

"I'm sorry I missed your birthday, Princess."

"Oh, Peter," She frowned and went to cup his face. "Who did this to you?"

"It doesn't matter," He said softly, leaning into her hands.

"I'm so sorry I didn't tell you sooner. I really wanted to... But I never knew when or how to do it. And tonight, I wanted to be there." His lips trembled.

"You have no idea how much I wanted to be there. But some guy had this really wonderful idea to rob a bank on your day, which caused a lockdown and eventually it led to a car pileup—"

She placed a kiss on his lips, shutting him up while holding onto the back of his neck in order to keep him close.

"I saw the news, Pete." She said once they parted and hugged him tightly, body shaking as she did so.

"Are you crying?" He asked through furrowed brows. "I'm so sorry I upset you, I—"

"I'm not upset with you. You don't have to apologize."

"You're not?"

"I mean, I was upset when I thought you were preparing some 'it's not you, it's me' speech on my birthday. And the thought of that hurts a lot more than knowing you kept this from me."

"I shouldn't have ever made you feel like we were gonna breakup, I'm sorry. I really didn't mean to give you that impression. You have every right to be upset at me for it." He hung his head low in shame.

"Thank you for owning up to it, but it's okay now, love. I'm okay now that you're here," She reassured him. "And I'm really glad you trusted me enough to share this with me."

"Of course I trust you. I had it all planned out.. We were supposed to go to dinner first and then come here. I was gonna explain everything up here, but things just got all messy, as always."

"I just said it's okay," She giggled, tracing the spider on his chest. "Besides, I can't complain when you look this good in your suit."

She smiled at his forming blush and messed up hair, then leaned in to kiss him once again.

"I love you," He whispered against her lips.

"I love you too, Spider-Man."

[thinkingaboutjaedyn]

could've been [i.engen x reader]

prompt: after all the regret, ingrid finally changes. too bad you aren't there to see it.

author notes: this is my sorry for making ingrid so toxic in part one, i swear she is ten times better in this one. hope y'all enjoy itt! look at the bottom of the fic for another surprise.

warnings: angst but not in a (part one) way, lots of mentions of regret, ingrid gets help finally, rejection, and more 🤗

part one: nights like this part three: good days

PLEASE, ALLOW ME TO SHOW

YOU SOMETHING

MM, SOMEBODY GIVE ME, YEAH

SOMEBODY GIVE ME, UH

SOMEBODY TELL ME THE ANSWERS

ME AND YOU ISN'T THE ANSWER (UH)

ME AND YOU ISN'T (NO)

MAYBE I'M TELLIN' MYSELF THAT

BUT THERE AIN'T NOTHIN' THAT'LL

CHANGE THAT

WHAT GOOD WOULD IT BE IF I KNEW

HOW YOU FELT ABOUT ME? (YEAH)

healing, change, forgiveness takes time. especially when one is trying to forgive themselves for their actions.

ingrid's therapist told her this in her most recent appointment when she broke down; her tears and words trying to express the guilt that still hangs heavy in her heart. the way she sobs almost makes it seem like she's the victim in the situation. that she was the one played with and cursed at and left to overthink. ingrid knows this. she knows how fucked up it looks to cry after being the one to do all the hurting, but her therapist reminded her that this is one step on the road to being better. those genuine tears of guilt shows remorse. now actions and effort needs to be put behind them so that those tears aren't put to waste.

when the norwegian whispers out, "what if i have done this sooner? do you think she would have left?" her therapist just gives her a small shake of the head before explaining that the past is the past.

"y/n is not the answer to all your problems. she's not the solution, you are. she may have been your first motivation, but now it's time for yourself to be the motivation. you are doing this for the betterment of you," the woman who goes by the name ms. alcaraz says. the way one of her legs are crossed over the other reminds ingrid of how you use to sit whenever listening to ingrid's rambles about her favorite show. y'all's favorite show. she always found it a little funny how many thoughts and items and mannerisms led back to you in her mind.

ms. alcaraz snaps her fingers to get ingrid out of her head. another thing the norwegian needs to work on; less focusing on the past and more looking at the future. "understand? enough dwelling on how you treated her and more working on the problems that led you to those actions," the therapist says as ingrid nods. that makes complete sense even if almost makes her heart snap in half. all she wants to do is remember and dwell and regret over and over again until she runs herself ragged.

the rest of the session is spent figuring out ways for ingrid to finally stop focusing all her on energy on the non-existent forgiveness she wanted from you and how she can finally start to forgive herself. ms. alcaraz proposes for her to write a letter to you. an actual physical letter. not a text from her fake page or an call from a text now number, a physical letter that ingrid would be forbidden to send. the norwegian wants to tell ms. alcaraz no. that this won't help anything. that it will actually make things worst and how she just couldn't do that but then she remembered how many times "couldn't do it" slipped out of her mouth when she talked to you. how badly that impacted your relationship. the fear that was vocal in those words always annoyed you; and ingrid knew this every single time. she just couldn't bring herself to push past that fear and do it. so no, this time around she can do it. will do it. if not for her then for you. even if you won't ever see it and it will just be laying on her desk for days to come, she had to do this.

you deserve an apology, some type of effort even if the only thing left of you in barcelona is just memories.

all ingrid thought about after leaving the session was what to say. what words could express how deeply she regrets everything and how wrong she was? god she just didn't know.

it has been three months since ingrid made the choice to go to therapy and do something about all her issues. for such a long time after you left all ingrid did was cry herself to sleep on her couch every night and then act completely fine all day in front of her "boyfriend" and everyone else. it took one month in therapy for her to break things off with him; her therapist explained to her how leading him on into believing their relationship was worth anything was wrong and will only lead to pain. not just for him, but for her too since being with someone she didn't love wasn't good for her mental health.

it was month two when she finally sat and accepted that she was a lesbian. "i'm a lesbian and i don't understand what that means for me? i can't... i don't know how to.." ingrid said one day at a session as she picked at the skin near her nails. the appointment was actually supposed to be focused on ingrid's fear of being judged and her fear of people's opinions but her vocally proclaiming that she is infact a lesbian led to a different direction for that day. the first direction was worked on in the next appointment with it being a perfect follow up to helping ingrid with her identity crisis.

month three's word of the month was fear. ingrid hated month three. every single last session was focused on what she fears, why she fears it, and how to overcome that fear. she hated it so badly just because the ingrained reaction to fear in her mind is to run. to shut down and isolate or to lash out and explode. there was never a in-between, but now it had to be. that's what she needed if she ever wanted to get better. that's what she needed to make sure all her regret didn't go to waste.

back to that dreadful letter. ingrid went straight to her desk when she reached her apartment. looking around her bedroom for some paper and pen so she could write down the apology she has been wanting to say to you for ages. ingrid finds a paper and a pen in mere minutes, but as she sits down at her desk she stalls for a moment.

is this even worth it? what if this makes everything worse? what if she spirals and can't even figure out what to say? too many what ifs. too much uncertainty. ingrid hated this. she hated that she couldn't just do it. what is her fucking problem?

tears well up in her eyes as she looks at the blank page. her mind was nothing like it. her mind is messy and full and feels like it's going to slip out of her brain onto the floor.

this won't help.

this won't change anything.

this can't change the past.

ingrid won't change, she can't, she's unable to. she's going to be stuck being a horrible person who can't do anything right. someone who fucks up everything in their life. a failure. no wonder you left; she was a fucking mess.

the norwegian doesn't even notice how her tears are now dripping onto the paper. no, no, no. she has to stop. she can't, won't, refuses to give up. if not for herself than at least for you.

do this for you, ingrid. letting your panic blur your vision won't lead to anything good. breathe, just breathe. let it go.

just write and say whatever is what ingrid mentally says to herself as she picks up the pen and starts writing. her fingers are so shaky that the letters on the page are hardly readable, but the emotions are there. the regret, the sorrow, the pain.

ingrid's so sorry.

and she had to make sure you knew that; in spirit. not in actuality.

so she writes and writes and writes until her fingers feel numb.

dear y/n,

i don't know how to start this off or even what to say. you will never see this, but i want it to be perfect. i ruined everything because i was just so afraid. i was scared to find out how people would react if they knew about us and instead of telling you more about my thoughts, i pushed you away. not just pushed you away, i exploded and treated you like shit to make sure you didn't to be near me. at first when i first started to act out i thought you would leave, but you didn't. why didn't you leave? i will never understand it. i'm so grateful you didn't because the moments when i wasn't being a horrible girlfriend, yes i can freely say that we were together now, were the best moments of my life in all honesty. you didn't give up on us, i did. i'm the one who kept running away. who kept using others to make it seem like our relationship was nothing important. you should have left and taught me lesson. well i guess you finally did, but that was after i put you though months of emotional pain. i was an awful girlfriend who let my own personal issues ruin everything and i ruined you. i know i did. and i'm so sorry. i love you, y/n. i love you so much and i don't know how i will ever move on.

IT COULD'VE BEEN RIGHT, BUT

I WAS WRONG (UH)

ONLY THINK 'BOUT YOU WHEN

I'M ALONE (YEAH)

THE PART OF ME THAT CARED IS

ALMOST GONE

AND I KNOW THAT I CAN'T GET CAUGHT UP

WE COULD'VE BEEN

AND WE TRY TO PRETEND

EVERY NOW AND AGAIN

WE DON'T DREAM ABOUT, DON'T

THINK ABOUT WHAT

WE COULD'VE BEEN

THOUGH I'M HOLDING IT IN

'CAUSE I KNOW IN THE END

YOU DREAM ABOUT, I THINK ABOUT WHAT

WE COULD'VE BEEN

WE COULD'VE BEEN (DAMN)

WE COULD'VE (DAMN)

when you first left you were the only thing filling up ingrid's thoughts. from the moment she woke up, while getting ready for the day, at practice, on the way back home from practice, at matches, during press conferences, every single moment that she was awake she thought about you.

however after the first few months of therapy, slowly but surely you started to slip her thoughts. she started to get back into her hobbies and became more focused at games. you were slowly becoming a memory for her; that didn't mean the regret and pain wasn't still there. those emotions will always hang in the back of her mind even when she moves on. to the day ingrid is on her deathbed, the bullshit she pulled on you will always stay there; that pain will be taken to the grave.

ms. alcaraz has helped her learn how to live on with those emotions. instead of shutting down whenever ingrid felt like everything was too much she would write or meditate or do yoga. anything to clear her mind.

but there's nights where all the norwegian can do is lay in bed. scrolling down on your instagram. even looking at content posted by the san diego wave social media just to get a glimpse of you. when she saw how you and that mystery brunette has already moved in with eachother she wanted to scream. all of those hours of therapy helped her, they really have, but still the immense urge to just explode rests on her chest.

the urge to just blow up your phone with a text now number. the violent urge to just text you on instagram over and over again until you either answer or block her fake page. the burning urge to leave very specific hate comments under your posts about only things she would know shimmers inside of her. however those urges are never answered.

ingrid has changed. she isn't her past self and she can finally feel proud about it. however still she couldn't block your instagram. her scrolling time has gone down from the entire night to just two hours with the help of therapy, but two hours is two hours too much. ingrid knows this.

she still wants some type of connection to you even if it's just a one way street. she can't help it, so for now she will scroll until she either feels satisfied or like she wants to pull out her hair.

after all that the norwegian wonders to herself what went wrong between you two; she already knows that answer. it was her. it was all her fault, but still it's fun to wonder how it would have been if you two had stayed together. if ingrid wasn't scared out of her mind of public scunity. god she hates the what if's that cloud her mind after seeing you happy with your new girlfriend for the ninth time that week.

sometimes, even though her therapist warned her that it could slow down the work ingrid has been doing on herself, ingrid thinks about a different reality. where you and her had an actual happy relationship that was public. you two would be loved by the public. living a great life together and when you two retire y'all would decide to adopt a little girl. the norwegian is unsure of what name you two would have picked out, but it would be gorgeous just like you. that faraway dream always ends with you two living out the rest of y'all's retired days in norway in a quiet neighborhood.

what she would do for that to be true is something she doesn't want to think about. ingrid still hates herself sometimes for what happened, but slowly you are leaving her life fully; and surprisingly she's not even sad about it. actually she welcomes it. those months of therapy are working their magic on her.

REMEMBER?

REMEMBER THE NIGHT IN MIAMI?

FIRST TIME YOU PUT YOUR ARMS

AROUND ME

I'M UP REMINISCIN' (OOH, YEAH)

AND THINKING 'BOUT YOU ISN'T HELPING

THINKING 'BOUT YOU DOESN'T TELL ME

WHAT GOOD WOULD IT DO IF I

DECIDE TO FACE THE TRUTH

IT COULD'VE BEEN RIGHT, BUT I WAS WRONG

ONLY THINK 'BOUT YOU WHEN I'M ALONE

YOU ONLY HIT ME UP WHEN SHE'S NOT HOME

AND THAT'S WHY I CAN'T GET CAUGHT UP

WE COULD'VE BEEN

AND WE TRY TO PRETEND

EVERY NOW AND AGAIN

WE DON'T DREAM ABOUT, DON'T

THINK ABOUT WHAT

WE COULD'VE BEEN (OH YEAH)

THOUGH I'M HOLDING IT IN

'CAUSE I KNOW IN THE END

YOU DREAM ABOUT, I THINK ABOUT WHAT

WE COULD'VE, WE COULD'VE BEEN

WHAT WE COULD'VE BEEN, WE COULD'VE BEEN

ingrid doesn't know when, but sometime after she hit the sixth month of therapy she started to move on from you. something she never thought she would be doing, but she also didn't think you would ever leave either or that she would be in therapy these days so ingrid got used to the surprises that invaded her life.

slowly her heart started to wander towards someone else. a certain tattooed spaniard whose smile sends shivers down her spine; mapi.

ingrid doesn't know when the lines between friendship and love started to blur with mapi, but they did. the spainard was someone she went to when everything got too overwhelming and her therapist's hours were closed. clinging to mapi's waist as her head rests on the defender chest. "sometimes i just feel so stuck you know.. like all my progress wasn't worth it," the norwegian mumbles. mapi's hands rub soft circles on her lower back as she listens. taking in every word ingrid says. "you're never stuck, life always has to move on. just try your best every time, ingrid" she says softly. that's how it always was when mapi comforted ingrid and frankly, the norwegian loves it.

their friendship wasn't always that close. back when you left, ingrid had isolated herself socially. she would go to outings with the team and her little cover-up boyfriend, but she wasn't talking as much as she usually was or drinking or just being her usual self. then after the third month of therapy ms. alcaraz helped her understand that isolation doesn't help anything and that she needs a support system, so ingrid started to go back into being more social. it really did help along with all the therapy she was doing.

then she just started to gravitate towards mapi. it was something alluring and fun about the defender. and it was the same for mapi. she thought ingrid was gorgeous since the first day they met, but never got a chance to get close to her. with ingrid's attention on her, mapi finally found the opportunity to become friends. maybe even more.

only a few weeks of this closeness and it bled into something more. ingrid would be scared of how fast things are going usually, this is how you two's mess of a relationship started, but her therapist has told her to welcome new things. not to run away from the things she wants anymore.

she wants mapi.

ingrid refused to let this new situation stay the way it is. she wanted a relationship, not a messy situationship. since she was the problem in you two's relationship, ingrid decided to be the one to start off on the right foot in this new one.

"can i take you out?" the norwegian asks one day while mapi was cooking some dinner in ingrid's apartment while wearing her pajamas; yeah this had to become something official sooner rather than later. they're already in too deep.

mapi gives her a quick glance over her shoulder, a small smirk on her lips. she just shrugs as she goes back to cooking. "i would love that," mapi says. bringing the freshly cooked food still in the pan over to the table. "i have plates you know" ingrid says playfully as she smiles. mapi rolls her eyes playfully as she turns back to the counter to grab two forks from the drawer. "we don't need them, chica" the spaniard chuckles as she sits down at the table. scooting her chair closer to ingrid's until their legs touch.

the warmth of the first bite was just like the warmth ingrid has been on the receiving end of. mapi is warm like the sun; an overwhelming presence that fills any room it steps in. mapi is ingrid's star and hopefully her only star for the rest of their lives.

the week after is when they decide to go out. it's on a sunday which has officially become their day since the two footballers always hang out on that day especially. spending the whole day together while doing mundane things. however this one was extra special, because they were going out instead of staying in.

ingrid stands in front of the floor length mirror in her living room. checking out the blue silk dress she decided to wear with black heels to match. is too formal? ingrid thinks to herself. she isn't able to dwell more on the topic as a knock at the door interrupts her thoughts.

mapi.

a smile already reaches the norwegian's face as she walks over to her front door. opening it to see a nicely dressed mapi. the spainard put on a black dress, similar to ingrid's. "didn't think we would be matching, bonita," mapi chuckles as she takes in ingrid's look. she looks gorgeous. mapi gets a bit distracting as she checks out ingrid before looking back at the woman's face. "huh? sorry. you're just too beautiful right now," mapi smiles.

"oh? more than usual?" ingrid jokes as she gestures for mapi to come inside. closing the door behind them before walking over to her couch to grab her jacket and purse. "hm of course not. you always look amazing. i just couldn't stop my eyes from wandering, that's all," mapi says as she leans against the door. smiling once ingrid turns back around and smiles back at her.

"let's go, bonita" the spainard says as she grabs ingrid's hand. interlocking it with hers. then they leave out of the door. a burst of giggles leaving them both as ingrid almost trips over her heels.

the rest of the night is full of happiness like that. the two footballers go out for dinner firstly then some ice cream for dessert and a small walk around the streets to end it off.

ingrid smiles at mapi as they stand in front of mapi's car. their date is sadly coming to an end and spending the night together wasn't in the question; can't go too fast. "can i kiss you?" mapi says softly as their hands interlock, swinging slightly. "i don't know, can you, maria?" mapi just laughs at ingrid's words before pulling her into a short kiss.

after savoring the moment, the two pull away from each other. shy smiles sitting on both of their lips. ingrid pecks mapi's cheek before letting go of her hand and running off to go inside her apartment building. mapi just chuckles as she watches ingrid run into the building.

ingrid's still smiling once she gets inside of her apartment. she couldn't believe how well the date went. those fears of possibly fucking up another relationship fade away as she changes out of her dress. kicking off her heels that been hurting her feet since they had ice cream.

as she slips into the shower, darker emotions cloud her mind. why does she suddenly feel guilty? those burning feelings of regret claw at her conscience as the hot water hits her body.

does she deserve to move on? after all the hurt she caused you, did she deserve to be happy with someone else?

the norwegian thinks back on you two's first unofficial date. with you both being too shy to call it an actual date; just calling it a simple hangout. it was a festival happening around this time in barcelona so of course you had to bring ingrid out there. that night was full of laughter and fun with it ending with a sweet kiss done near the beach. ingrid sometimes wonder what would have happened if she would have just asked you to be her girlfriend right after that moment. if she would have let your situation turn into an actual relationship. if she would had gone public with you on her social media months into the situationship like she did with that cover-up. would things be different? would you have been here right now and this night of fun of mapi would have never existed? for some reason ingrid frowns just thinking about that possibility.

in the past, all she wanted was to go back and fix everything so you two could be together in the present. however, now after her date with mapi she didn't want that. would it really have been better? the teenage puppy love feelings that were coursing through her isn't the same as the feelings she felt with you. the fear of being known tainted whatever love that was between you two.

it doesn't matter anymore. let it go. ingrid thinks to herself as she shuts off the water before stepping out of the shower. she looks at herself in the mirror as she dries her hair. she's done. ingrid realizes she has finally done it.

she has fallen out of love with you. out of love with constantly feeling the regret and guilt. ingrid is over you and ready to move onto more things in her life. ones that don't involve overthinking constantly about what she's done to you.

ingrid has forgiven herself.

that was the night ingrid blocked your instagram and deleted your number.

WHAT WE COULD'VE BEEN, YEAH

WHAT WE COULD'VE BEEN

AYY

WHAT WE COULD'VE BEEN

WHAT WE SHOULD'VE BEEN

IF I WASN'T, IF I WASN'T WITH SOMEBODY

IF YOU GOTTA HIDE IT, WHAT'S

THE POINT OF TRYING?

I AIN'T JUST YOUR FRIEND, NO, WHAT'S

THE POINT OF LYING?

TRYA SELL A STORY AIN'T NOBODY BUYIN'

LOOK ME IN MY EYES, DON'T THAT FEEL NICE?

WHY SHOULD IT END? BABY I COULD'VE BEEN

I COULD'VE BEEN HIM, MORE

THAN YOUR FRIEND

JUST SAY WHERE AND WHEN, WHERE

TO MAKE A TRIP

BABY, MAKE A WISH, BE THE ONE I'M WITH

SHOULD'VE BEEN A, SHOULD'VE, COULD'VE,

WOULD HAVE BEEN, AYY

YEAH, I WOULD HAVE BEEN (DAMN)

YEAH, I WOULD HAVE BEEN (YEAH)

DAMN, DAMN (COULD'VE BEEN)

YEAH, WE COULD'VE BEEN (OH NO)

around four months later, after officially getting together with mapi, ingrid decides to face her biggest fear. the one that toppled you two's relationship.

she posts a photo of mapi kissing her on the cheek on her instagram. cutting off her phone the moment it's posted, she may not be scared of having a public lesbian relationship anymore but still she didn't want to look at the comments.

nearly a full year of therapy has changed her into a much better person and girlfriend. the teasing comments from her teammates about them not knowing she was into girls weren't as frightening as she thought they would be. the online discussion about the reveal of mapi and her relationship was more positive than she expected.

oh, it really was just the fear holding her back.

it has been months upon months since ingrid had last seen you and she was fine with keeping it that way. of course she knew eventually you two would see each other somewhere. the women's football world is only so big with most women footballers being around each other at the same events and campaigns. however she didn't think it would be so soon.

she had been invited to an event by puma for their new campaign with puma athletes. it was later on during the event when ingrid spots you. one moment she's eating peacefully on her pasta and the next she's looking up to see your eyes on her.

what..?

she doesn't remember you being a puma athlete. perhaps that partnership happened after she blocked your instagram. god, now all that pasta is about to come up out of her throat. ingrid wants to run and run until this night is just a distant memory, but she doesn't. because ingrid is a different woman now. she doesn't run away from her fears now, she faces them.

the eye contact between you two doesn't last long as you look away. ingrid's throat feels like it's collapsing in on itself as she stands up and heads towards the bathroom.

as the norwegian throws some water on her face before looking up in the mirror. you come into the bathroom, warily standing next to the door as you look at her. "i didn't expect to see you again," you say softly. ingrid gives you a glance before sighing. this was a chance to at least give you an apology.

"y/n, i'm so sorry. for everything. i ruined something that could have been great and i treated you horribly. you didn't deserve that.." ingrid says as she looks at her, trying to see your reaction. you stay silent as you gesture for her to continue. "i was so afraid and needed so much help. i'm sorry it took you being hurt enough to leave for me to get it. i been doing therapy for months now and i am a way better person now," ingrid gives you an apologetic smile, "just know it was all me. never you. everything that happened was never your fault, y/n."

silence fills up the room as she finishes talking. you just blankly stare at her. it unnerves her, but it's okay. she's ready to see whatever reaction you will give.

"i don't forgive you.." are the words that come out of your mouth. ingrid just nods; it's understandable after all she's done to you. "but i'm glad you got help. finally," you say. she can tell you are being genuine with your tone.

the two of you look at each other before you turn and leave the bathroom. ingrid leaves out a bit after. heading back to her table feeling lighter than before.

she didn't get forgiveness, but you acknowledged how much work she has done. that's all she needed.

author notes: LMAOO it took me so long to finish this, but it's done. so basically i made another version of this part where ingrid is a little less sane in the head and also i plan to make a part 3 focused on the reader. which will be the last part (unless i change my mind), so if y'all could vote on what y'all want me to post first please do.

[pascalsbby]

CARNAL : PROLOGUE

Read Part 1

Carnal Masterlist / Masterlist

Summary: 2.9K/ f!reader, dark!joel, stalker!joel.

Warnings: 18+ mdni, SMUT, age gap (unspecified but reader is late into college), female masturbation, joel masturbating, dominate & aggressive joel, cam girl, pet names, praise kink, he briefly talks you through it, tells you what to do. talk of: trauma (not graphic or specified as SA), pain kink, fingering, sucking fingers, red flag girl stalker!joel is coming, the usual pure filth

“You thought you had it all figured out before him. Animals. Tender, primal flesh. That’s what we are at the end of the day, right? Fucking, testing one another and then eating each other alive, heart first. Maybe the heart is the sweetest part of the body- or maybe it’s just the easiest to get to.”

°:. *₊ ° . ° .• ♡ °:. *₊ ° *₊.• ♡ °:. *₊ ° . ° .• ♡ °:. *₊ ° *

It started as a way to claim something back for yourself. Pieces that you’d given away over the years, ones that had been ripped from your hands, your body. This way, you had a say.

Strip, open your lips for a stranger to coo praise towards your teeming core… and then pay you. You cried a couple of times afterwards, languidly sitting in the filth of your own desire. Through the guilt of it all, it was hard to explain why it pleasured you so deeply.

No man had ever, in real life, truly pleasured you. Taking cock this way and that just for you to squeeze your walls together and moan, tired of the wrestle and hoping it would end soon. “I came.”

This, behind a camera, didn’t feel like real life, though. Most of the time you didn’t see their faces, just the curvature of desperate dick and tiring arms. That made it easier, of course, until the money became second thought to how pleasing their whispered obscenities were, dripping from their mouth down to their sobbing cocks.

You read somewhere that some kinks are a result of trauma, which makes sense. Having an angry father and a mother who didn’t leave her bed until after you left for college, was just the first lock on a heavily bolted door. You raised yourself, your brother, your mother, your father. Labeled an ‘old soul’ or whatever the fuck the grownups always told you as they patted your back and sent you along.

Scratching your way through childhood, you decided it would be easier to be invisible in high school. You painted, and finally you were noticed. You told yourself college would be different. But the only interest shown was that of your body, or that of your art.

Maybe if he praised the way my tits looked after he marked himself into them, I’d feel better about myself. Maybe if he slipped his spit-soaked fingers into the right place, I’d be cured.

The cure never came, no matter how many different sets of fingers you had inside of you. No matter how many tubes of oil you emptied onto primed canvas. Everyone always wants to know the story of how the canvas came to be covered, but do they really want that truth?

Maybe the desire to bare yourself to these men stemmed from never being wanted or loved the way you loved others. So much so that it caved in your chest the first time you fell in love. You fundamentally could not understand why he wouldn’t try as hard as you, why he didn’t love like you did. “I just don’t know if I want to stay with you because of your body, or if it’s because I love you.” Watering yourself down was preferred, it hurt less, even though there’s shame in that, too. So love hadn’t really crossed your mind since. You wondered where that little girl was, who so deeply believed in it, despite the fact she never received it back. Desire, pleasure, pain with no connection? That was easy.

So uttering your want…need, to be hit, spit on, filled, devoured- as if it was an act of release- to any sexual partner, lover, or even therapist, never seemed right. Especially when you were aware that you would collapse into yourself afterward, falling over the thin line of possible pleasure and needing safety. Of wanting to, but not being able to let yourself go completely.

The stranger across the screen? They could tear you apart in every way you wanted, without you having to beg or be asked “why?” Without touching you. Afterwards, you could shut the computer screen.

This was your secret, the squalor. A juxtaposing new kind of fight.

You thought you had it all figured out before him. Animals. Tender, primal flesh. That’s what we are at the end of the day, right? Fucking, testing one another and then eating each other alive, heart first. Maybe the heart is the sweetest part of the body- or maybe it’s just the easiest to get to.

You learned quickly that he was in charge. Submitting to him felt like second nature. You’d long ago given up the belief that someday, someone would save you.

@texanblackbird

You look like you need to be put in your place sweetheart. Havin your sweet little holes out for all these men and what worthwhile could they possibly be givin you back?

You

Well Texan Paul McCartney, right now they’re giving me a lot more than you. $100 and I’ll enter a room with you for an hour.

@texanblackbird

Let me help you little bird, you sound fuckin pathetic. $300 and you’re mine for 30 minutes. Don’t open your mouth until I say & don’t you dare smart off to me again, got it? Then I won’t clip your wings, not just yet.

You felt your cheeks swell with heat, but more so you felt the pull in your core. His profile picture was missing his face of course, but you couldn’t deny that from the small circle, the body filling it looked intriguing. You got off of the bed, sat up your laptop and checked yourself in the mirror above your desk. You brushed out your too-perfect lipstick with your finger, making it look a little more worn. Making it seem like you were a little more experienced, that you put on a good show. That you were worth the money.

You let him in and waited.

He was breathtaking, sat in a simple office chair. His shoulders spread the entire width- he engulfed it. His collarbones adorned by freckles and warm-toned skin. Like the sky had kissed him over and over, singing praises into his skin. He had gotten a little sun recently, his chest blushing and soft looking with a few scars from time. His arms splayed across his lap, jeans still on but wantonly unbuttoned. He was thick, rugged- dirty even. He needed a shower from whatever laboriously hard work he had just completed. You could already see the length of him pushing against his jeans. His hips protruding slightly, curving at his thighs. Veins running down his hallowed v line.

He wasn’t big in the sense of grotesque protruding muscles, but large in a soft way. His biceps pushing against his skin, showing that he would easily overtake you, lay you down and pin you where he wanted. Strong. His shoulders could support you. His fingers thick… one was the equivalent of your two. He could caress the spongey insides of you with absolute ease. His palm greatly bigger than your entire face. You imagined it sprawling your mound, fingers tall enough to push down on your stomach at the same time his thumb was pushing down into your body. His build was that of an older man, someone whose body has seen years, been loved, discarded, kissed, and maybe even hated. His stomach lightly spilled over his half open jeans, hair curling above the seam and crawling up towards his belly button.

You didn’t dare say anything until he instructed. You sat pretty on the edge of your bed and took him in. Oh, you would do anything he asked of you. Then, he took out his cock and spoke a voice that sent fire down your spine.

Husked, vibrating, basey. You never had an affinity for a southern drawl until his lips parted.

He spent most of your sessions hungrily ordering you around your own body. He was abhorrent in ways you’d never dreamed before. You discovered parts of yourself you didn’t know needed touching, panting and babbling for him. Right when you’d hit a new spot he would huff a laugh at your desperation, breathing out, “Good girl. Goooood. Now do it again, harder. That’s it baby.”

“Turn around ‘n spread open those pretty lips for daddy. I wanna see what you look like drippin from the back. Bend over. Mhmm, oh so good,” he paused as you did what he asked, “God damn I know that pretty pussy would love to swallow this cock. Don’t ya think so Birdie?”

“Y… yes sir.” In reality, it would absolutely destroy you. But imagining the stretch of your hole as he slipped himself into you was enough to pull out another orgasm. Your entrance tightening and losing slack each time he sheathed himself into you.

“Let it out baby girl.” You did. You let it out for him, unabashedly.

If his deep voice wasn’t enough by itself, then even looking at his hands was sometimes enough to send you over the edge. The way he grabbed himself, spitting multiple times into his palm in order to cover the width, moving his middle finger in lazy circles around his angry head. Drawing spit into strings to wet his slit, pushing the precum down the veins of his length. Breathing heavily and moaning from his chest.

He told you that all of your holes needed to be filled simultaneously until you were whimpering, begging for reprise. You agreed through overstimulated tears.

By the fourth encounter, you’d given him your phone number, not thinking too deeply into it, considering by this time he was paying you enough to cover your phone bill three times over. And rent.

You lived alone in an apartment a few minutes outside of campus, far enough to drive but not far enough away to feel like you weren’t in the mix of everything. Everyone around you was around the same age, so no one thought twice about the moans you failed to stifle. Or the dad-aged man who often sat in the lobby, head down- unbeknownst to you, of course.

You still didn’t know each others name, but you were instructed to call him ‘daddy’ and ‘sir’. When he wasn’t calling you filthy pet names he called you ‘darlin’’ or ‘sweetheart’. You Googled his phone number but couldn’t find anything worth following. The ignorance to who he could be was good enough for you, blissful even. It fed into your daydreams between seeing him every Thursday.

You’d never had a true conversation with him, never dared ask why that day over any other. Upon his request you would send him multiple pictures a day, your fingers in your mouth. He wanted to see the wetness in your underwear, begging for you stick your fingers in and play with it so he could see what he’d done to you.

By the seventh encounter you knew you wanted to be completely devoured by him. You wanted to fill the space between his teeth.

“I want to bring you pain so that you know what real pleasure feels like. Bring you so close to the edge that I’m the only one who can bring you back. I want you to fall on your knees for me, I want you bruised and beggin,” he husked, “at my mercy, not the world’s.”

°:. *₊ ° . ° .• ♡

One Thursday, someone knocked at your door amidst your indecency. You had a few friends, mostly those with the same major and classes. It didn’t make sense for them to be showing up, considering you’d just spent a three hour class time with them.

Your movements stuttered.

“You gonna get that?”

“Are you gonna let me?”

“And let whoever it is see how wasted you look right now? Absolutely. Tell ‘em I said hi,” he smirked.

The knocking continued until you finally made it to the door. Whoever it was, could by no means enter your apartment, especially not your bedroom.

“Sarah!” Oh god.

“Oh my gosh, are you okay? Have you been crying? Who hurt you, let me at ‘em!”

Always full of energy, this one. She was a few years younger than you, a photography major you had met when she approached you one day in the Student Union, asking if she could take your portraits because you, “had a certain aura about you.” Of course you agreed, how could you say no to someone who was so entirely happy? You exchanged numbers and had at least one new text from her daily, since. You hadn’t seen the photographs yet, she took them on an old film camera, but you kept meaning to ask if she’d developed them.

“I’m okay, promise. I just wasn’t expecting you. I would invite you in but I’m not feeling too great at the moment. I think I caught the cold that Shay had,” you pouted, hoping your were selling it well.

“Oh no worries, I texted you but you didn’t respond so I thought I’d walk the couple doors down! I just wanted to see if you wanted to grab dinner on campus, but we’ll reconvene another time.”

“I’m sorry,” you palmed your forehead, “it’s been a day. I promise I’ll answer next time. Dinner tomorrow night?”

“Sure! See you then. Text me if you need anything.”

“Always,” you said with a smile as she walked away and you closed the door.

You hadn’t been to her place just yet. She has a roommate she absolutely despises, you learned. You didn’t know she had an ill bone in her body, but she spends most of her time outside of her apartment, understandably so. It made you feel a sort of calm though, knowing she lived so close. You were going to miss her liveliness whenever you graduated and she returned to her hometown for the summer. You wished you’d met her earlier in college.

°:. *₊ ° . ° .• ♡

He had heard everything, you rushed too quickly out and didn’t close your bedroom door entirely. The apartment is small, he thought, if it was anything like Sarah’s. Sound travels. He wondered if Sarah was there to drop off the pictures she’d taken of you. Oh she was so excited about them, FaceTiming him months ago to show him. She insisted that she would wait to give them to you, as a graduation present. At the time, graduation was a semester away.

“Isn’t she beautiful?” You were. There was something in your eyes that fell to the pit of his stomach. Who had hurt you so badly that your eyes gave it away, pleading? You looked so small, sitting at a table with pencil in hand, drawing. You looked so familiar, he felt your stare in his core.

He would never admit that he had taken a screenshot of one specific image as Sarah continued on, “She was just sitting there, and I went up to her and asked her! And now we’re friends. I feel like we’ll be best friends soon. She’s a senior though, but she lives right down the hall. And oh! Her taste in music is so similar to yours too, you’d like her.” She smiled.

He looked at the picture shamefully. Between jobs, in the bathroom, in his work truck. He felt gross the first time he touched himself to you, but it felt so good, the way his cock would twitch at the thought of all the ways he could ruin you. Fix you.

A week later he couldn’t take it anymore. He found you quickly, you popped up in Sarah’s Instagram friends right under a few other people, smiling in your profile picture. Private, but your social media was all under the same name, so he took you for everything he could find. You were an artist, loved classic rock and always retweeted sad poetry.

The day he came across your secret Twitter felt like an answer to a prayer. He knew you had it in you. What a naughty girl. But why would you follow yourself? That wasn’t very smart of you. Did you even think about your own safety? Did you even care?

He made an account on the cam site you promoted on said post- and he was in. As far as he knew, Sarah had never mentioned him to you… never had a reason too.

You’d surprised her one weekend, showing up to have dinner with her. Not before sitting in the lobby for a few minutes, hoping to catch a glance of you. For you to pass by without a thought, the air bringing your scent to his nose. He even walked down the opposite side of Sarah’s hallway when he got to the fourth floor, trying to see if there was any indication which apartment was yours. Maybe he would knock on it, accidentally, apologize and say he was looking for his daughters apartment. He wanted more of you, anything he could get his hands on.

The money wasn’t an issue for him, he lived alone and didn’t need much. He gave it to you happily if it meant that you were his for an hour, through text, whatever. He gave you a fake number, one that led back to some app he texted you on. He’d had these obsessive tendencies before.

You returned to him, blushing while dropping the robe you had hastily grabbed. As you sat on the edge of your bed, spreading your thighs open for him, tracing wet lines towards your cunt, he knew that you were his, you would be. An hour later he was texting Sarah.

“What time is your friends capstone show next week?”

Extra: Joel in his truck

Part 3

°:. *₊ ° . ° .• ♡ °:. *₊ ° *₊.• ♡ °:. *₊ ° . ° .• ♡ °:. *₊ ° *

A/N: Thank you for all the love in Part 1! I haven’t written in a while, but I’ve just graduated college and I have some downtime and a busy brain to satiate.

I just wanted to state that I’m pro-sex work & pro-therapy! This is me writing parts of myself and my own trauma into the main character…forgive me! ‘Art’ is embarrassing sometimes, huh?

I have an entire Pinterest board filled with ideas, pictures, quotes for this fic. I hope you guys are enjoying ☺️

Tag List: @paleidiot @sarap-77 @i-love-rafe

[la-petite-lapin]

Double the Love | Part Two

Double the Love masterlist

Simon "Ghost" Riley x Johnny "Soap" MacTavish x female civilian!OC Word Count: 2.9k Series warnings (may change between chapters): 18+, Minors DNI, angst, mentions of death, mentions of violence, mentions of poor mental health, injury description, eventual explicit sexual content, polyamory, M/M/F, FMC is bad at feelings

They finally meet

One year later...

The message comes out of the blue. The first time I've heard from John Price in a whole month, and it's a fucking text message.

I'm watching TV, curled up in a ball on the sofa next to my best friend and flatmate Winslow "Winnie" Sloane, when my phone pings. I think about ignoring it until I catch a glimpse of his name. It's an unspoken rule between the two of us - we never knowingly ignore one another. Obviously, he can't reply to my messages when he's on ops, but that's different - that's not wilful.

I pick it up without hesitation and take a look.

JOHN PRICE: Tali, I need a favour. It's urgent.

My heart drops.

TALIA KELLER: What's happened? JOHN PRICE: Call me. I'll explain.

So, I do. I tap Winnie on the shoulder and rise up to my feet, shuffling off to my bedroom so I don't disturb her episode of Slow Horses. When I'm safely shut behind my bedroom door, I tap on the call button, dreading what's awaiting me on the other end of the line.

"John?" my voice is full of nerves as the call connects, echoing slightly around the room.

"God am I glad to hear your voice, Tali." He sounds haggard, his own voice tired and hollow. It's not hard to tell that he's fresh off an op. I can already imagine how drained he looks; can picture the dark circles shading his eyes and his scruffy too-long beard.

Sometimes, when I'm feeling particularly brave, I try to talk him into leaving the service. I think about Alex and his death, and I hate that John still knowingly puts himself in harm's way day and night. He's the only serving soldier I know now - I never met any of the other members of their unit - and I desperately wish that he'll retire soon.

"How are you?" he follows up, voice puncturing through my thoughts.

"I'm okay. At home with Winnie. How's Marcella?"

A soft sigh leaves him at the mention of his long-suffering wife. I wonder if he's even had a chance to see her yet. "Last we spoke, she was perfectly fine. Misses you though. You need to come over for dinner soon."

An easy laugh leaves me. Winnie and John aren't the only ones who've been supporting me since Alex died. John's wife Marcie has been there every step of the way too, helping me through rough patches whenever John is away on deployments. And Winnie's never been anything but kind and understanding - it's not in her nature to be anything but.

"Soon," I mumble in agreement. There's a sound on the other end of the line in the background, a murmured snippet of conversation and a drawn-out groan followed by a soft shut up. "Not alone?"

"Got some company," John admits. "Speaking of... does Winslow still have that big trip coming up?"

My palms slick with sweat. Yes. Yes, she does.

Ever since her big promotion six months ago, Winnie's job now involves a lot more travelling than it used to. And - because of that - in three days' time, she'll be in France, starting a month-long assignment helping a struggling marketing firm in Paris.

And I'll be alone.

It doesn't bother me as much as it used to, but I've always had this thing about being alone. It's part of the reason why I live with Winnie; why I've been seeing a therapist since I was sixteen; why I struggle to have normalcy. My current therapist thinks that it's a form of abandonment issues from being orphaned at a young age, which has led to my inability to maintain stable relationships. The therapist before that thought it was something completely different; that I seek to form attachments but wilfully don't, self-sabotaging and creating my own permanent sense of loneliness. But, my point is, I don't react anywhere near as badly to it as I did when I was a kid.

I still remember when I was fifteen and Alex left for his first deployment. I was still living with our maternal grandmother at the time, and I completely shut down. I holed up in my room for almost a whole month, refusing to speak and barely eating or sleeping. I could hardly function for worrying about him...

"Tali?"

I snap out of it. "Sorry. Yes."

"Could you... could I possibly bring some of my guys to your apartment? Just while Winslow is away. Our safehouse in the area has been taken out of action and we need somewhere to lay low for a little while."

My guys. The unit.

"What about your place?" My brow furrows. Surely Marcella wouldn't mind a few guests. She's calm and motherly and takes great pride in hosting. I'm sure she'd be in the element with them.

John clears his throat awkwardly. "Not an option. They don't know."

Ah. The brave, almighty Captain John Price still hasn't told his team that he's married. Typical.

I roll my eyes. "Okay. I hope you know that we're coming back to that later." A beat of silence passes. "How many people are we talking, John? Because it's a two-bedroom flat in London. It's spacious but it's hardly the Tardis."

He snorts out a dry laugh. "Only two. One of the lads is local so he's got family around here he can stay with. And there's some stuff I've got to get done, so I'll be hopping from base to base."

"Where are they going to sleep? Are they going to mind sharing a bed? Because the sofa is comfortable, but I know how you army guys are built..."

There's an awkward silence on Price's end as I hear him shifting around. It takes me a second to realise that he's covering his mouth against his phone's microphone. "Yeah... that's, um- that won't be an issue for them."

Oh.

Oh.

"Okay. Cool. I'll take them."

I wince. Why the fuck did I say cool? Of all the ways that I could respond and I choose that. Way to go, Tali.

"Are you sure that you're okay with this, Tali?" Price asks, his voice soft and encouraging. "If you aren’t, we can find something else-"

"Price, I'll take them in. Winnie leaves on Tuesday morning, so just have them swing by around then, okay?"

Favour asked and questions answered, we say our goodbyes and hang up. It takes me a second to gather my thoughts before padding back into the living room. The moment I step through the hallway, Winslow pauses the TV, angling her head up to look at me. A cloud of black curly hair frames her beautiful face, dark eyes wide and expectant. "Is John back home?"

I wince, getting ready to launch into an explanation. "Not quite."

Tuesday morning rolls around all too soon. By 9 a.m. I'm sitting cross-legged on the foot of Winnie's bed as she packs up her stuff. I can't help but feel a pang of anxiety strike deep in my chest.

"Are you sure that you're gonna be okay?" Winnie asks, almost like she can read my mind.

I meet her dark, knowing gaze and offer her a smile. "Winnie, I'll be fine. You don't need to worry about me. If I need anything, I can call Marcella."

She smiles, running a hand through her freshly braided hair. The pearls attached to some strands clink together softly. "Okay. Good. But you've got to call me once a week at least, okay?" Before I can reassure her that I will, she adds, "And you've got to text me every day."

"Winslow, I will. Stop stressing, please."

A moment of easy silence passes before the laughter starts. Both of us crack up, her eyes finding mine and holding my gaze.

Once we've both calmed down, I take a closer look at her cases. She's packing almost everything she owns. It's a sight that worries me, so I look away, deciding to look out of the window instead.

A loud, firm knock on the front door saves me just as Winnie is packing up her last suitcase. We exchange a look before I'm up on my feet, scrambling to answer it. I can't lie, I'm curious to meet John's friends. But I'm also sad. Because there's a strong possibility that they knew Alex too. That they were with him when he died.

When I open the door, there's two men standing in the hallway, just like John said there would be. The first has short brown hair styled into a mohawk, the sides cropped close to his scalp but the top and back left longer. He's broad-chested, muscular too; built like a grizzly bear. And, even though his complexion has a slightly pallid hue under the overhead lights, it's not hard to imagine that he's usually quite tan.

And then there's his friend. Standing next to the grizzly bear and at least half-a-foot taller than him, he has the expression of a man who wants to break me apart with his bare hands just to see what's inside. I fight to meet his intense gaze, taking catalogue of the features visible under the dark hood of his black sweatshirt. His eyes are hazel - I think - skin tanned from what I'd assume are long hours spent out in the sun, and I can't quite make out his hair colour. He's equally if not more muscular than his friendlier-looking counterpart. My eyes trail down to his mouth, drawn to the scar bisecting his bottom lip. It doesn't draw away from his attractiveness though; just adds to the sense of rugged charm that I'm getting from him.

Not that it should matter. It doesn't. They're here because they need help; not because they want to be ogled by a complete stranger.

"Are you John's friends?" I ask stupidly, as if they could be anyone else.

The grizzly bear nods. "Aye. And you are?"

Scottish. Nice. I've always loved the accent, but his is even better. There's a humour there; something uniquely his. It makes me want to keep him talking just so I can hear it more.

"Tali." I step back so that they can come inside. They hesitate for a second before following me into the living room, the tall, silent one closing the door behind him with a soft click. "Also John's friend."

The grizzly bear plops straight down onto the couch, stretching out with no hesitation and making himself at home. His arms drape over the backrest, a lazy grin forming on his lips as he watches me take a seat on my armchair. The tall one gives him a reprimanding look, hovering beside the window behind him. His light eyes are always alert; darting around the room like something's going to jump out at any second.

"You army?" he asks, expression wary. His voice is all gravel with a Manchester accent.

I offer him a small smile. "Nope." I don't think anyone could mistake me for a soldier. I'm small - short and slender - and skittish at the best of times. "So... what should I call you?"

Hazel eyes narrow at me. "Ghost."

The grizzly bear rolls his eyes dramatically, offering me a wide, disarming grin. It's blatantly obvious that he's overcompensating for him. "Callsign is Soap, but a pretty lass like you can call me Johnny."

My heart flutters.

It takes a second to remember what John had said on the phone. Sharing a bed won't be an issue for them. The awkward, implying tone he'd said it in. In other words, neither of them are meant for me.

Ghost eases away from the window to stand just behind the sofa, drawing closer to Johnny. Johnny, on the other hand, moves so that he's leaning forward, elbows braced on his knees as he cocks his head at me. "A friend of Captain Price, are ye?"

I nod softly. "Yes."

"Funny that," Ghost barks, tilting his head to one side. "He's never mentioned you." Thinly veiled suspicion drifts off of him in waves, and it makes me feel endlessly uncomfortable. His harsh gaze melts through my skin and bones, boring deep into my soul.

I shift in my seat. "He never mentioned either of you to me, so I don't think that counts for much."

Johnny lets out a loud laugh. "I think I'm gonna like ye, Tali. Not many people talk back to 'im."

It's in that moment - as I'm silently praying for the floor to open up and swallow me whole - that Winnie steps out of her room, suitcases in tow. She walks into the living room, depositing them by the front door before coming over to introduce herself, a sceptical look on her face.

She levels Ghost with an icy glare, not looking away from him as she asks me, "Everything all okay here, Tali?"

"Yeah, it's alright Winnie." I gesture to each of John's friends in turn. "Winnie, this is Johnny." He raises his hand and waves, still grinning like the Cheshire Cat. "And that is Ghost." I point to looming, ominous figure behind him.

"Ghost?" she repeats slowly. I nod. "Okay, well I'm leaving now. Tali, I love you and I'll miss you. Remember to call me." She bends at the waist to hug me, wrapping me up in her warm, vanilla-scented embrace. As she straightens, she glares at each of the men in turn. "And you two - don't give her any shit. If I find out you've made her feel uncomfortable even once, not even John will be able to save you. Got it?"

Johnny stares up at my friend, mystified. His blue eyes are bright as he nods. "Don't worry. We won't be any trouble."

Winnie turns back to face me. "Right, I've got to go or I'll miss my ride to the airport. I'll be back before you even know I'm gone, okay?"

"I know," I say, my voice soft. "I love you. Be safe and text me when you land."

With a nod, Winnie presses a gentle kiss to the top of my head then gets her last few bits together. And then she leaves. Leaving me alone with two complete strangers. Yay.

"So," I grumble, struggling against the urge to shy away from their intense gazes in the safety of my room, "do you want to see where you'll be staying?"

Later that night, the three of us gather in the living room to watch TV.

The guys didn't have much to unpack. They travelled light so I'm going to have to go shopping sometime soon to buy them some essentials; more clothes and toiletries. Definitely food too. If dinner tonight was any indication, they eat a lot.

I'm curled up in my armchair again, watching something that Johnny chose on Netflix. Every once and a while, I glance across at them. Ghost is sitting upright, legs stretched out in front of him. His legs are so long that his feet are tucked under the coffee table. And then there's Johnny. He's laying on his side on the sofa, his head resting on Ghost's muscular thighs. Every now and then, Ghost's hand runs down the length of Johnny's side, stroking him in soothing, rhythmic motions.

Looking at them, I can't help but feel a sense of longing. Jealousy that they're together and obviously quite happy. That they're comfortable enough around one another for these subconscious displays of affection.

I'll never have that. It's something that I've come to accept. I'm twenty-five now and I've never had a serious relationship. I don't even think I want one. For a period of time in my late teens, I thought that I might be aro-ace, but over time I've gathered that I do feel romantic and sexual attraction. It's just different.

The sad truth is that I don't trust anyone enough to believe that they'd stay with me. Love me. Make me feel safe enough for displays of casual affection. There would always be that looming sense of dread that they'd leave me sooner or later.

In my head, I've justified it. If I don't get into relationships, no one can leave me. Alex's death all but solidified that for me.

The rom-com Johnny picked out gets to a comedic scene - a naked beach fight - and he starts to chuckle. I join him and I swear even Ghost lets out a little snort. We're all laughing until...

"Fuck. Johnny, you're bleeding."

My heart crawls up into my throat. My eyes snap across to them, blatantly looking now. The white t-shirt Johnny is wearing is plastered to his side, a red patch seeping through the fabric, spreading across his ribs.

He sits upright, holding it with one large hand. "Ah fuck. Didn't get any on the sofa, did ah'?"

"Fuck the sofa," I splutter out in a panic. "Are you okay? Why are you bleeding? Should I call an ambulance?"

Johnny looks back at me with a quizzical expression while Ghost just sighs, standing up. He walks towards the bedrooms at an unhurried pace, stopping along the way to press a chaste kiss to Johnny's forehead, placing a loving hand on his shoulder. "Don't worry, darling, I'll get the bag." Hazel eyes swing towards me, where I'm still panicking in my armchair. "His dressing just needs changing, and I'll check his stitches. He's fine, love."

I ease back into my seat, heat rushing to my cheeks. "Oh."

Ghost leaves the room, heading into my bedroom to get the aforementioned bag. I've decided to give them my room for the duration of their stay because it has an en-suite. It eliminates the risk of me accidentally stumbling in on them in the shared bathroom that doesn't have a working lock. Overall, it's safer for everyone that I'm staying in Winnie's room.

Feeling more than a little foolish for my outburst, I offer Johnny a weak smile. "I'm going to go to bed now. Goodnight, Johnny."

"Ye sure?" he asks, blue eyes tinted with a hint of... something. Maybe disappointment? I don't know. "The movie isn't over yet. You seemed like ye were enjoying it." His brow furrows. "We could watch something else."

"I'm sure. It's fine; I'm just tired. We can watch another movie tomorrow night if you want."

His eyes light up at that. "Yeah, sounds perfect."

I'm back in Winnie's room by the time Ghost leaves mine. I can hear his footsteps padding down the hallway. Hear their muffled conversation and muted laughter.

As I fall asleep, I can't help but feel a different kind of loneliness. And, as I drift off, my heart aches for what Ghost and Johnny have.

a/n: guess who's back! so Tali has finally met the boys :) sorry if this part is a little short, just wanted to get something out in time for christmas for you guys - merry christmas and take care of yourselves, lapetitelapin

[justmeinadaze]

I Miss The Misery (Steve X You)

"Just know that I'll make you hurt

(I miss the lies and the pain what you did to me)

When you tell me you'll make it worse

(I'd rather fight all night than watch the TV)

I hate that feeling inside

You tell me how hard you'll try

But when we're at our worst

I miss the misery."

A/N: From my previous post, I mentioned I've been feeling some type of way and every time I hear this song I think of mean Steve every time.

Warnings: Mean, Toxic Steve X Fem Slightly Toxic Y/N, SMUT of the rougher variety, public sex (bathroom, office), daddy kink (cause im me), smacking, choking, degrading (brat, whore), ANGST, some gas lighting from Stevie, he's definitely not a good guy, cheating (mentions of him cheating on her; reader cheats on bf), she talks about how his behavior excites her sexually but she's aware of how toxic that kind of thinking is. I think that's all.

Kind of inspired by an ex I had and the way he treated me. He bounced off of each other negatively and I remember telling my therapist that I thought the reason I kept going back to him was because "at least I feel something." I haven't seen him in 4 years so Yay for healthy relationships! :)

Doesn't mean we cant enjoy some toxic smut with Steve Harrington.

Word Count: 6317

“Hey, honey. Rough day?”, you coo at your boyfriend as he comes through the front door with a heavy elongated sigh. 

“Yeah. These assholes that bought our company are changing everything and it’s starting to piss me off.”, he grumbles while taking a seat at the dinner table as you crawl into his lap and kiss his temple. 

“You should say something. Tell your boss you’re sick of the changes and the disrespect. They need you and your team, baby.”

“Naw.”, he gently smiles as he hugs you tighter. “It’s fine. I’ll get over it.”

Smothering your own frustrated sigh, you grin as you kiss his lips before heading back to the kitchen to finish the meal you were making. You never understood your boyfriend’s passive aggression when it came to most things. Any time anything bothered him, he’d vent and stomp his feet but in the end, he did nothing. 

You had never dated a man like him before. Most of your past boyfriends were toxic to say the least but what they didn’t know was you were always trying to recreate a feeling someone from your past gave you. The feeling of being desperately needed to the point that they would break down a door to be with you. That passion that followed jealously or a fight that they most likely started but you definitely instigated. That feeling of being…alive. When you couldn’t find it in anyone else, you decided it was best to move on to something healthier. 

Jacob was a good person who doted on you hand and foot. If you had a bad day, he would hold you and if you just needed someone to talk to he was more than accommodating. When you two fought, if you could call it that, you could scream and be mean and all he would do is sigh and say things like “I understand why you would feel that way. I’ll try and be better.” When you two were intimate, he was incredibly vanilla, only ever being sexual in bed and usually missionary. The few times you tried to explain what you wanted, he never seemed to understand. 

“You want me to hurt you??”

“No…not exactly. I just want you to be…rougher. SHOW me how much you love me. MAKE me feel it.”

“You don’t think I show you enough how much I care about you?”

“No! I mean yes…I mean…Gah! Never mind.”

 “What’s, uh, what’s the name of the company that bought yours again?”, you ask as you grab a beer bottle from the fridge and pop it open. 

“Actually, babe, I was going to tell you. I did some research on them and it seems they originated in your hometown Hawkins. It’s a company called Harrington & Co.” The sound of glass shattering causes Jacob to jump up and immediately run to the kitchen where he finds you wide eyed with beer now swimming around your feet. “Oh my god. Are you okay?! Don’t move, you don’t have shoes. Let me clean this for you.”

“Harrington? Like Bill Harrington?”

“Yeah! I was going to ask if you knew them.”, he continues as he kneels down and begins to clean broken glass before wiping at the liquid. “Supposedly, from what I read, Bill Harrington retired and left it to his son Steven. Did you know him? He’s about your age.”

“Where the fuck have you been?!”

“What do you care, sire?! I’m not your fucking girlfriend remember?”

“That doesn’t stop you from coming to my house at fucking 2 am begging to ride my dick!”

Your hand flew across his face, his angry eyes glaring into yours when his head reels back. As you swing your arm to hit him again, his large palm catches your wrist and roughly pulls you to his chest.

“Let me go.”, you growl.

Leaning forward, his lips hover just above your own, feeling the slight wind of your heavy exhales that come from your nose.

“Make me.”

“No, I didn’t know him.”

#############

Sighing, you take shaky, anxious steps towards your boyfriend’s office building. When Jacob called saying he forgot his lunch, you debated on telling him you were busy with work stuff of your own before finally deciding to bring him his food. 

He owns the building. It’s not like he’s going to actually be in it 24/7. Plus, if he was he would definitely be on a different floor.

“Hey sweetie. Oh! Thank you so much.”, he grins as he kisses your cheek. “Do you want to sit with me while I eat? We can share or I can buy you something.”

“Yeah, sure. I’m not hungry but I can sit with you.”

Holding your hand, he walked with you to the building cafeteria and like any good girlfriend, you sat next to him listening to him tell you about the long trials and tribulations of his day. You smiled, nodding where you were supposed to and frowning at things he seemed annoyed with. After thirty minutes of his hour lunch, you desperately needed a break. 

“I’m going to go get a drink. I’ll be right back.”

Jacob smiled as you tilted down to kiss him before turning to head towards the area with drinks and food. As you stood there staring into the void of soda options, a strong cologne smell hit your nose that had you dizzy as your eyes fluttered closed. You’d know that smell anywhere, inhaling it so many times in the past. 

Steve smiles as he watches you walk around his room in one of his polos that hangs down your body like a nightgown, just barely covering the love bites and bruises from his fingers that were starting to form on your thighs. Lifting an expensive looking glass bottle to your nose, you grin to yourself as you inhale and put it back down. 

“I love the way that stuff smells.”

“Yeah. My dad says it’s a good smell for ‘classy men’.”, he chuckles.

“Hm. I guess he doesn’t know you very well.”

“Fuck you. I’m classy.”, Steve teases as his grin grows, yanking your arm so you fall on top of him as he folds his hands together behind your lower back. “Classy enough to land a pretty girl like you.”

“Y/N?” 

As you turn your head, your eyes lock with his slightly stunned honey-colored irises as they scan you up and down. You begin to feel slightly self-conscious in your leggings and regular t-shirt compared to his slick black suit and well styled hair.

“Holy shit. What…What are you doing here? Do you work here?”, Steve asks.

“Uh, no. My, uh, my boyfriend actually does.” You turn and point to where he was nonchalantly eating, not even looking in your direction. “What are you doing here?”

“My dad followed through and gave me his company. We finally expanded out of Hawkins so I bought this place.”

“Yeah, I heard. Congratulations.” His eyes continue to rake over you making you more and more anxious the longer you stood there. “Well, I better get back before his hour ends.”

A shiver ran up your spine as his hand reached out to grab your arm. 

“Wait. I’d like to talk to you some more and catch up. Do you want to meet me for dinner? I’m free tonight if you are.”

“Steve… I’m with someone. I can’t have dinner or anything else with an ex or whatever the fuck we were. I’m happy now.”

The smirk that painted his beautiful lips startled you as you stood up straighter.

“Oh your happy, huh? You should tell that to your face. That guy’s your boyfriend? Guy barely seems like he can get it up let alone satisfy a woman like you.”

“Define woman like me?”, you inquire sarcastically. 

“A strong, gorgeous woman who liked to be fucked hard and put in her place.” Steve’s eyes remain on you as your own widen as you look around hoping now one was close enough to hear his not-so-subtle tone. “Tell me, honey, does he know you called me Daddy? I imagine not because if you were my girl and I found out you ever called someone else that you wouldn’t be able to sit down for weeks.”

“Thank God, I’m not your fucking girl.”, you snarled. “You were never man enough to make that commitment.”

As you both stared daggers into each other’s eyes a sudden hand on your shoulder brings you back. 

“Baby, everything ok?”, your boyfriend asks way too calmly. 

“Yeah, Jacob, I’m fine. I was just introducing myself to the owner of your company.”

Steve’s eyes immediately softened as you watched him play the role he always played extremely well; charming and popular.

“Steve Harrington. Nice to meet you, Jacob. Y/N and I go way back.”

“Oh. I thought you said you didn’t know him, sweetie.”

Your ex’s eyes narrow in your direction in faux shock making you sigh in annoyance. 

“I didn’t know him. I knew OF him. Everyone knew who Steve ‘The Hair’ Harrington was. Unfortunately, I wasn’t popular enough to penetrate his circle.”

“Hm, but I was to penetrate yours.”, he sassed with an arrogant confidence that just made you angry. 

“Nice seeing you again, Harrington. Come on, baby.”

Steve watches you both walk away with a determined gaze that you can feel burning into your back as you headed towards your table.

“He seems nice. What was he like in school? Do you remember?”

“You didn’t call me like you said you would.”

“I was busy, Y/N.”, he answers nonchalantly, not even meeting your eyes as he continues putting things in his locker. “I figured when you didn’t hear from me, you’d just fuck the next guy.”

“Jesus fucking Christ, seriously?! Steve, for some fucking reason I like you. I only want to be with you but it kills me when you don’t follow through with your promises. You say you’ll call and you don’t. You say we’ll go on an official date finally and then last minute you change plans but still call me to come over late at night so you can fuck me. It’s push and pull with you. You act like you want me but then you don’t. I can’t… I can’t keep waiting for you.”

Slamming his locker closed, he finally turns to face you with a look that said he really didn’t care. 

“Then don’t.”

“Yeah…I remember him. Steve Harrington was a complete asshole.”

##############

You managed to steer clear of Steve and anything having to do with him for a few months after your encounter with him until you couldn’t anymore.

“Baby, it’s an office party. Come on, we have to go.”

“Then go, Jacob, but I’d rather just stay here.”

“Y/N, you’re my girlfriend and this is important to me. Everyone I know will be there including clients. I want them to meet the woman I love.”

You can’t help but sigh at his statement from your place in the closet. You cared about your boyfriend, you genuinely did but love? That was big word with a big meaning. 

“FUCK YOU!”, you shout as you run out into the hallway and yank your arm away from Steve as he tries to stop you while buckling up his pants. “I’m so stupid. DON’T fucking touch me.”

Growling, he pushed you into another empty room and closed the door behind him as he continued to put his clothes back on. 

“Lower your fucking voice—”

“Yeah, wouldn’t want the entire party to know what an asshole you really are!” His hand tries to block your mouth but you angrily swat him away causing him to back up and hold his hands up defensively. “You TOLD ME that we could make this serious. That we would finally have a REAL relationship and then I find you here fucking Lori! Are you kidding me?”

“Y/N, I—”

“I told you I loved you, Steve. I’ve never said that to anyone!” Tears started to fall down your face as you hugged your arms around your body. “You’re never going to claim me, are you? You’re never going to call me your girlfriend. I was just another fuck buddy, wasn’t I?”

When he doesn’t respond, you shove his chest hard. 

“ANSWER ME!”

“YES! YES, OKAY?! Excuse me for not wanting to fucking hurt you. You knew what this was, honey. Its…It’s not my fault…you caught feelings.”

That night you ran. You told your parents you loved them, packed a small bag, and left Hawkins to Indianapolis swearing to yourself that this would never happen again. Ever since that night, you had been so numb to most emotions but especially ones that included romance. 

“Ok. Let me get ready and I’ll meet you downstairs. 

***

If you ran into Steve Harrington again, this time you would be ready. Wearing your shortest black dress and highest black heels, you strutted into Jacob’s office party with a demeanor that had everyone turning their heads. 

With a gigantic grin on his face, your boyfriend introduced you to people and showed you off the way you deserved. 

I should be enjoying this. What’s wrong with me? Why can’t I be normal!?

“Hey, baby, I’m going to run to the restroom.” 

After giving him a sweet kiss, you powerwalk to the girl’s bathroom and lean over the sink as you stare at yourself in the mirror. 

What’s wrong with me?

The door abruptly opens making you jump as you quickly pretend to be washing hands until a familiar aroma grabs your attention. 

“Steve! What the fuck are you doing?! This is the girl’s bathroom!”

“Pfft like that ever stopped me before.” His eyes hungrily drank you in as you did the same. In high school he always dressed well but it was rare you saw him in suits. Now you imagined he wore them all the time and they accentuated his body in a way that had your mouth watering. 

“I was watching you around the party with your boyfriend. You seem…sad.”

“Well, I’m not.”

“Hm. Who are you trying to convince? Me or you?”

“Fuck off, Harrington. Alright? I left you and Hawkins for a reason. Just give me some peace.”

“Yeah, you did leave. You didn’t even say goodbye.”, he replied with an undertone of anger you couldn’t quite fathom. 

“Oh, I’m sorry. When should I have done that? While you were fucking the school slut or after you told me you didn’t love me.”

“I didn’t say that. I never said I didn’t love you.”

“PLEASE! You said I should have known what our relationship was and it wasn’t your fault I caught feelings for you! What was I supposed to take from that?!”

“Do you think my dad would have let us be together?! A rich Harrington with a poor Y/L/N? This isn’t a fairy tale, Y/N!”

“Of course! Steve Harrington, always looking out for himself!”

“What did you want me to do?!”

“I WANTED YOU TO FIGHT FOR ME!”

The bathroom door swings open again and you quickly grab his arm, shoving him into an empty stall as a group of girls gather at the sinks. As you listen to them talk, your head hangs as your brain swims in memories of the past. 

You never cared that he was a Harrington or that he had a ton of money attached to his name. Even though you two had a lot of bad moments, to you, the good always outweighed them. Steve always knew how to make you laugh and smile (when he showed up). He would come over on Friday nights with a movie and some food (because he didn’t want to risk you both being seen). At night when he would sneak through your window (at 1am), you would lay on his chest and talk about everything you both could think of (after he fucked you like a whore). 

Fingers gently lifted your chin, tilting your head so your eyes could meet his. As a tear fell down your cheek, he tenderly wiped it away with his thumb before cupping your face with his hands. You closed your eyes as his lips kissed your forehead, slowly trailing them down to your nose, and hovering just above your own.

Closing the distance, you pulled his mouth to yours as your palms slid down his back, trying to bring him closer to your body. 

You never forgot the taste of his kisses but you were grateful for the reminder. 

After forcing open your legs with his knee, your dress hiked up a bit allowing him easier access to your panty covered core as his hand effortlessly pressed the silky materiel against your clit. Biting your lip to stifle the moan, you felt him smile as his mouth latched on to your neck. Your eyes rolled as his tongue licked your skin and his fingers moved your underwear out of the way so he could guide two of them into your entrance.

Steve’s elbow locked in place as your knees started to buckle, holding you against the tile wall as you clung to his shoulders. It took every ounce of energy you had to remain quiet as his digits curled inside of you. The girls outside of the stall continued to gossip, completely unaware that the owner of their company was about to make their coworker’s girlfriend come undone.

Leaning back to look at you, the tip of his nose lightly grazed yours as your mouth fell open in a silent moan. Nodding his head, his beautiful eyes were begging you for something he needed you to say. Something he hadn’t heard since you left and you hadn’t said to anyone but him. 

“Please…Daddy.”, you mouthed and without hesitation he gripped the back of your neck, pulling your head to his shoulder as he pumped his fingers faster into your cunt.

The bathroom door banged shut as the women left and a loud moan you had been holding on to echoed through the room as you reached down to grip his wrist, trembling against him as you came. Yanking you back, he crashed his lips to yours as your tongues mingled together. 

“Please…please…”, you whimper as you push at his hand.

“It’s been a while, huh? Since you’ve had something big inside of you.”, he teased, grinning when your breathily laughed. “God, I missed you so much. I thought about you every day for the past five years. I love you, honey.” 

Something in your look gave him pause as he scanned your face. 

“What?” Pushing him backwards, you threw open the door to the stall while adjusting your dress and quickly checking yourself in the mirror to make sure you looked at least how you did when you came in here. “Hey, talk to me. What’s—”

As he reached for your arm, you turned around and smacked his cheek.

“How dare you. You think after everything you put me through you can just walk back into my life and expect things to be how they were?! I’m in a healthy relationship for once. He doesn’t bail on dates or disappear when I need him. Jacob actually shows me off and tells people I’m his girlfriend that he loves! I don’t cry every night because of something he said or did! I don’t—”

“Have sex the way you want?”, Steve interrupted snidely. “You don’t actually have any fucking fun because he’s so fucking boring you just want to walk into traffic. He doesn’t challenge you or make feel needed. He doesn’t know how fucking numb you really are. Jesus…”, he snickers. “You’re definitely not the same girl that left me.”

“That’s right because you broke her fucking heart!”

“Does he know that you don’t love him?” You freeze by the door at his question. “Does he know that you, honey, are exactly like me whether you like it or not. There’s a reason you’ve thought of me every day to. That’s the same reason you’re afraid to leave him.”

“Our relationship…was toxic…”

Tilting his head to the side, he reached into his suit pocket, grabbing a pack of cigarettes, and lighting one between his teeth. 

“That may be but that also doesn’t change the fact that you and I, baby girl, thrive on that shit.”

Swallowing the lump in your throat, you shake your head before addressing him and turning to leave.

“Stay away from me, Steven.”

#############

“Oof.”, Jacob groans as he slinks out of his suit jacket and throws himself down on the sofa. “It was a long day. We have a big account that landed in our lap and even your friend has been staying late to help.”

“He’s not my friend.”, you mumble as you continue focusing on the sink in front of you. 

You hadn’t been able to shake Steve from your brain since the party. Hell, you hadn’t been able to shake him for the last 5 years. You thought about him constantly but knew he was bad for you. Part of what got you through the heartache was telling yourself that he wasn’t missing you; that he didn’t care at all where you were or if you were even happy. 

But here he was telling you the opposite. Was he lying or did he genuinely care? From the few interactions you had with him he still seemed exactly the same. God, why couldn’t you get the warm fuzzy feelings he gave you with someone healthy?! Why did you have to fall in love with him? Why did he rile you up and get you going but by doing the worst things. 

“Honey? Are you alright? You seem kind of—”

“I’m fine, Jacob. I’m just exhausted.”

His hand gently caressed your back as his chin rested on your shoulder. “I understand. Is there anything I can do?”

Angrily, you slammed the plate in your hand back into sink, lightly pushing him aside as you entered the living room and began to pace. 

“Baby, what’s going on?”

“Stop it.”

“Stop what?”

“STOP BEING SO FUCKING NICE TO ME!”, you shout as frustrated tears began to fall. “Why do you alwayshave to be so nice?”

“How else should I be, Y/N?”

“I don’t know! Fucking…tell me to stop being a bitch or raise your voice a little bit. Throw me against a wall and fuck me into submission.” 

“Y/N, I still don’t get it. You’re telling me you want me to hurt you?”

“NO! I just want you to stop being so fucking passive! Show a bit more passion! How can you live life like this!? If you’re angry just be fucking angry and then do something about it!”

Placing his hands on his hips, his eyes glance over you as if confused on how to proceed. 

“You know what? Um, fuck it. I’m sorry, honey. I just…I had a weird day and I’m taking it out on you.” Wiping your eyes, you hastily grab your jacket from the nearby closet, and sling it over your shoulders. “I’m just going to go for a drive.”

“Y/N, wait! It’s pouring!”

Shutting the door, you cut him off as you stand in the yard and let the rainwater hit your face. It had been so long since you felt amped up like this. Backing out of your driveway, you head to the one person you know will understand.

***

“Yeah? What? I’m busy.”

“Uh Mr. Harrington, there’s a young lady here that says she knows you and was wondering if she could come up to talk to you.”

“I see. Carl? Does the young lady have a name or are we just letting any random women into the building?”,Steve asked the security guard sarcastically through intercom that connected to the top two floors. 

“Um, Y/N Y/L/N.”

“Ok, send her up.”, he sighs almost as if he’s annoyed by your presence. 

You bounce anxiously in the elevator as you take the ride up to the top floor and as soon as the doors ding open, you power walk towards the lighted up office at the end of hall.

“Y/N.”, Steve exhales without looking in your direction. “I’m extremely busy so if this isn’t important then make it quick.” When his eyes finally land on your soaked, agitated frame, his whole demeanor shifted as he came around his desk and cupped your face in his hands. “Jesus Christ, honey. What the fuck is going on? Are you alright?”

Tilting up on your toes, you hungerly press your lips against his.

“Baby…Baby…hang on…Stop!”, he shouts sternly as he pulls you back. “Tell me what happened right now.”

“You said you missed me and that you loved me.”, you pant as you try to tug out of his grip. “I didn’t. I didn’t miss you at all. The only thing I ever loved about you was your dick, Harrington.”

His eyes narrowed as his head tilted trying to get a read on you. 

“Why are you lying, little girl? You’re not supposed to lie to me remember?”

“Said the liar. I bet you didn’t miss me either with all that pussy you were getting back at Hawkins.”

“I can get pussy and still miss yours. The only difference is I actually enjoyed fucking those gorgeous women. When’s the last time you were fucked properly?”

“Jacob can get the job done. Trust me.”, you sass. 

“Then tell me, baby, why are you here with me?”

“Because I’m an idiot! Maybe, I should go home.”

As you turned to leave, he roughly grabbed your arm, spun you around, and kissed you again. It was a rough kiss loaded with need as you both clung to each other, you a bit more desperately than him. 

“Where’s my girl? I want my Y/N.”, he snarled angrily as he pulled your hair back, tilting your face up to meet his. 

“I told you. She’s gone.”

“I don’t believe you.” Pushing you down onto your knees, he continues to hold you firmly as he unbuckled and unbuttoned his pants with one hand. “I think she’s still there. She’s just hidden behind this false facade of someone ‘normal’.” As his slacks fall to his ankles, his cock springs free, and you salivate at the sight as he pumps it slowly in front of your face. “But we aren’t normal, are we, baby?”

As you try to lean forward to take him into your mouth, Steve pulls on your hair harder forcing you back while leaning down till his face was just inches above your own. 

“Ah, see? There she is. Hidden right under there.” His tone is full of snark but his beautiful features remain stoic as he continues to glare down at you. “Come on, honey. Give me what you got.”

Rearing back, a glob of spit leaves your mouth and lands just above his nose.

“Fuck you, Steve Harrington. I hate you.”

Wiping his hand over his face, he collects your saliva and strokes it along his cock.

“Jesus, baby, your anger and attitude just really fucking get me off.” Lifting you off your knees, he pushes you onto his desk, tearing off your jacket and shirt before slamming your back against the wood as your head hangs over the other side. 

You try to get up but he’s faster, holding his palm against your chest as he comes around his desk. 

“You remember our word right, Y/N? I wouldn’t be surprised if you forgot it. I imagine you haven’t needed it with the extremely mundane almost tedious style sex you’ve been having over the years.”, he chuckles, laughing at his own snark as you pout angrily beneath him. “DO you remember?”

“Yes I fucking remember!”

The palm on your chest slides easily up your skin and takes hold of your throat.

“Yes, you remember what?”

“I remember our safe word.”

Rolling his eyes, he lets you go just long enough to slap your cheek hard before holding you down again. 

“Yes, WHAT?!”

“YES, DADDY, I REMEMBER OUR FUCKING WORD!”

Steve’s hand moves behind your head, holding you up slightly as his leaking tip touches your lips, exhaling heavily when your tongue darts out to lick his slit and you moan at the taste of him. Opening your mouth wider, you allow him to push his cock in till he promptly hits the back of your throat making you gag. 

“That’s it, baby, take it like a good girl.”

Thrusting his hips, you flatten your tongue allowing him to use you as he pleases. Abruptly, the phone blares on his desk startling you but annoying him as he angrily grunts at the device. 

“God fucking damn it. Can’t have one fucking moment. Don’t move.”, he growls as he leans over to pick up the receiver. “Yeah, this is Harrington.” His long fingers grip your hair tighter as his cock subtly slides between your lips unable to remain still as your wet, slobber filled mouth warms him. 

“Seriously? This is why you called at 10pm? We have it covered. I have faith in the employees here.”

Even though his voice remained relatively calm despite what was happening, you knew him well enough to know he was using all his energy to do so. Deciding to rile him further, your hand reached up above you and gently massaged his balls the way you knew drove him crazy back in school. 

“Look, stop panicking. I-I-I…” You smiled in triumph as Steve stuttered over his words. “Fuck. No not you. Clark, just…just tell my dad to calm the fuck down. I haven’t run his company into the ground yet and I don’t…don’t plan on doing it any time soon.”

Slamming the phone back on the hook, he grips the side of your head with both hands as he thrusts his hips at a faster pace. 

“Did you think that was funny, little girl?! Did you think it was funny watching me squirm?” Holding you still, he stops moving when he feels your nose against his sack, grunting as your throat constricts around him. “That’s it, you fucking brat. Choke on it.”

Pulling himself all the way out, he allows you to collect air and watches with pride as the tears streak down your face. Once he feels like you’ve had enough of a break, he shoves his cock back down your throat, holding you still as you gag and drool around him. 

A frustrated sigh leaves his lips as he tugs you off him and walks around to the other side of the desk while shuffling off his pants as he unbuttons his shirt. 

“Come here, baby.”

As you fully sit up, you raise your hips so he can aggressively yank down your pants with your panties. Bringing you towards the edge of his desk, he falls to his knees, and puts your cunt on display for himself as he uses his fingers to hold open your puffy lips. 

“Fuck, sweetheart. I missed this pussy so much. You always smelled so fucking good.” You moan as Steve’s nose grazes your clit and his tongue licks between your folds. “Shit. And you tasted so fucking delicious to.”

His head falls between your legs and your fingers tangle in hair as he devours you like you were his last meal. The obscene sounds of slurps and his tongue flicking in and out of your core has you clenching tightly around him as your eyes roll to the back of your head. 

“Please, don’t stop, Steve. Oh my god.”, you whine. 

As your hips start to buck against him, his strong hands hold you down forcing you to stay still. You continue petting his head, occasionally tugging on his fluffy, soft strands making his groan reverberate through you. 

The phone beside you blares loudly again and he grunts in agitation as he gets to his feet, grabbing the cord to yank it from the wall. 

Taking his place between your legs, you both moan as he runs his mushroom tip along you slit and rests his forehead on yours.

“Beg me, Y/N. Tell me how bad you want my cock that you love oh so much and not me.”

“Please, Steve, I need—”

His palm around your throat cuts you off.

“No, little girl. Remember? You don’t care about me anymore. You don’t give a fuck about Steve Harrington. All you want is my dick right? Well, honey, this dick belongs to Daddy so beg him.”, he growled causing your breath to hitch. 

“Please, Daddy. I’m sorry. I need you to fuck me. I need to feel you fill me up.”

“Do you think you deserve it?”

“No.”, you whisper, your answer intriguing him as his head shifts to the side. “But I need it.”

Your hands run up his chest till you reach his neck, clinging to him as he slowly guides himself inside of you. You mouth dropped open in the shape of an O as he gradually pumps his hips, pushing himself deeper into your heat. 

“God damnit, Y/N, how long has it been? Your pussy isn’t used to a big cock anymore is she? You’re so fucking tight.”

“Still s-so cocky.”

Steve chuckles lightly, his head hanging as he bottoms out. 

“Still a fucking brat.”

Gripping both your thighs, he pulls back before thrusting his length hard inside of you, practically punching the air from your lungs. Falling flat onto his desk, he finds a steady pace that leaves the two of you panting and moaning.

Leaning his upper body over yours, his lips kiss yours sloppily as your tongues dance together.

“Fuck, baby girl, no one has ever taken my cock as well as you.” His face falls into the nook between your neck and shoulder as he bites at the flesh. “This pussy was made for me, Y/N.”

“Harder, Daddy.”

Taking hold of you, he lifts you off his desk and places you on the floor, lifting one of your legs over his shoulder as he pounds into you.

“Like that, honey? Yeah. Daddy knows. Daddy can take care of you.” With one hand clinging to your leg for leverage, he utilizes his other to bring his thumb to your clit making you whimper as his cock abuses your g-spot. “Cum, pretty girl. Cum all over my dick.”

Perching yourself up on your elbows, your eyes lock with his giving him more determination to push you over that ledge. When you do finally fall, he grunts at the feeling, fucking you through it as his thumb moves faster against you. 

“Atta girl. Fuck me. Your pussy won’t stop pulling me in. You really needed Daddy, huh, baby?”

Shakily your hand grabbed his wrist, silently begging him to stop and to your surprise he did, bringing his palm up to caress your cheek. Focusing on his own pleasure, he slammed into you so hard that you knew you would be sore tomorrow. 

Falling flat against your body, he rolled his hips a few more times before warming your insides with his release. 

The two of you laid together quietly for a few moments until he finally rolled on to his back. Sneaking a glance your way, Steve noticed you were trembling and sat up to grab his jacket off the floor where he had tossed it to place it over your body like a blanket. 

“Thank you.”, you murmur as you bring it up closer to your neck. 

“For the jacket or the sex?” As you turn your head to look at him, he does the same. “That’s what you came here for right? Because I know it wasn’t for me. I guaran-God damn-tee if your boyfriend or any other guy fucked you the way I did, you’d be with them right now.”

“You’re right.” Steve huffed as he fully sat up and leaned against the sofa he had in his office. “What do you want me say, Harrington? I tried for two years to get you to claim me and every time you pushed me away.”

“And every time you still came back.”

“So that gave you license to treat me like garbage?!”

“No! I’m just… I’m just saying there’s a reason for that.”

“Yeah and not a good one. Steve…what we have…had… yeah the sex is amazing but everything else is unhealthy. The missed dates, angry calls, the fighting, the fucking cheating… we are toxic.”

He sighs heavily before giving you his full attention.

“Yeah, well, if we’re toxic then I’d rather go down with you than anyone else.” Shaking your head, you get to your feet as you quickly grab your clothes and start to put them on. “I know you feel the same, Y/N, or else you wouldn’t be here. You like all that bullshit because at least you’re feeling something other than fucking boredom. Trust me, I tried to. I tried doing the healthy ‘normal’ thing. I wanted to fucking gouge my eyes out by the end of the day. It took me awhile to realize that all the women I was with including her… I just kept wishing they were you.”

“This was a mistake. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have—”

“No, no, no, no, honey. Please, trust me. I feel like we can make this work.”

“Well, I don’t.”

Backing away from you, he folded his arms as he leaned against his desk. You knew this look very well, always referring to it as “the shutdown”. His wall was going up which means he was going to make this situation as complicated as possible.

The butterflies in your tummy fluttered in anticipation at the notion.

Why am I like this? Why can’t I be normal?

“Ok, Y/N. We can play this game but just remember, little girl, I’m way better at it than you.”

############

@daysinthephoenix @sophiejayne-illustrations713

[rainbowrelyea]

I keep thinking about the idea of Kelly and Lena becoming besties after season six. And well Kelly, being the good friend she is, and also a mental health professional, keeps trying to convince Lena to go see a therapist and sort through all the trauma she has been through. And even though Kara, Lena’s other best friend (and possibly girlfriend at this point?) finally agreed to start seeing someone for her own issues, Lena still refuses. Perhaps because she is still too stubborn to accept the help, or because she is scared of unearthing all her demons, possibly both. So Kelly decides to change tactics and go for a more covert approach. After years of treating patients much more difficult than Lena, Kelly has a repertoire of tricks up her sleeve for convincing people to open up to her, and by subtly working some of those methods into normal everyday conversations, she’s slowly able to get Lena to start sharing herself more openly with Kelly. It’s not like that much really changes about their relationship, just now some of their discussions go a bit deeper, and little by little Lena and Kelly start to work through some of her baggage without her even fully realizing it.

This goes on for quite a while, until one day Lena puts the pieces together and realizes that Kelly has essentially been secretly psycho-analyzing her all this time (Lena is a genius after all, she was bound to figure it out eventually). When she confronts her about it, Kelly can’t help but cringe internally and braces herself for the worst. Riddled with guilt, and putting on the most apologetic face she can muster, she tells Lena how incredibly sorry she is, and tries to explain herself. But when Kelly asks her if she is upset with her, she gets an answer she doesn’t expect.

Lena crosses her arms and purses her lips, tilting her head to the side, a contemplative look on her face. For once Kelly can’t read her best friend’s expression, and she can feel her own anxiety growing as the seconds tick by. But when Lena finally speaks, there is no anger in her voice.

“I think - no, I know - that the old Lena, the person I was when we first met - she’d probably be furious at you. Maybe even friendship ending furious. I’m sure you remember what happened with Kara and I.”

Kelly doesn’t say anything, simply nods an acknowledgment, and waits for Lena to continue.

“But the Lena I am now? I’ve grown a lot in the last few years… and I don’t think I can find it in me to truly be upset with you. Maybe a little sad that you felt it was a necessary measure. But not mad - because I know you did what you did out of a place of love, not because you were trying to deceive or manipulate me. Because you’re one of my best friends and I believe you when you say you only want what’s best for me. Even when I refused to admit I needed any help, you know me well enough to know better.” She pauses, glancing down at the ground briefly before looking back up at Kelly, a small smile starting to pull at the edges of her mouth. “And you really did help me, you know? Honestly, this is the lightest and happiest I’ve felt in years.”

Kelly can tell Lena is telling the truth when she says it, because she can see it so clearly in the way Lena’s small grin breaks into a face splitting smile, one Kelly knows is genuine because of the way it’s a little crooked and because of how it crinkles Lena’s eyes at the corners. She feels her shoulders relax and she releases the breath she didn’t realize she was holding. Then Lena is wrapping her up in a tight embrace, and it’s a little longer than usual, and Lena squeezes a little harder than usual, as if to say “thank you for being there for me.”

“That said…” Lena pulls back from the hug and breathes out an exaggerated sigh as she makes a show of crossing her arms and rolling her eyes like a petulant teenager, even as she fights to keep the smirk off her face. “That said, I think it’s about time I face my fears head on and schedule an appointment with a therapist, you know, one who is not my BFF.”

Kelly can’t help but smile widely at that, feeling nothing but warmth and affection for her dear friend. “Took you long enough, you stubborn old mule,” she teases, pulling Lena into another hug.

“Excuse you!” Lena swats at Kelly’s arm in mock indignation. “Stubborn yes, but I am neither old nor a mule! You take that back Kelly Olsen-Danvers!”

“Fine, fine, just ridiculously stubborn then,” Kelly replies through her laughter. “But I hope you know, just because you start going to actual therapy, that doesn’t mean I’m going to stop trying to keep poking holes in all those walls of yours.”

Lena considers her with a soft look in her eyes and a soft smile to match. “Yeah, I know. I don’t think I’d want it any other way.”

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for asking my mother not to do certain things?

Let me start off by saying i'm homeschooled. I've been homeschooled my entire life. I don't have any friends offline, so I've pretty much come here to ask for outside opinions from my friend groups (online).

Prefer not to state ages, if that's okay. It makes me uncomfortable.

I have ocd, suspected autism, and either auditory processing disorder or misophonia (we're not sure which.) as well as a plethora of other issues. my mother is very aware that i have ocd (she has it herself) and i've mentioned misophonia to her several times. she doesn't know about my other mental issues, as for reasons you're probably going to see here, as i don't feel comfortable or safe telling her. (or, i've tried, and she doesn't listen, or tells me i'm "being dramatic.")

my ocd is quite crippling, to the point i've tried medication, herbal tea (chamomile seems to work a bit!), asking friends for advice, and even asking her for advice. as of the last year, it's had a grip on my life and has been quite a problem for me. i'm unable to do things i want or need to a lot, and especially struggle doing most things, even basic tasks. i'm unable to see a therapist/counsellor or psychologist/psychiatrist for personal/financial reasons.

a lot of my triggers (well, not exactly triggers for the ocd, but they stop me from doing things.) revolve around sound, especially people talking. whistling is a major trigger for my misophonia/apd, as are other high pitched noises.

my mother has a tendency to watch tv a lot, and i often ask her to not do this when i'm trying to do certain things, as it makes my ocd a bit worse, and it's often rather loud. (please note i wear headphones a lot of the time for sensory issues.)

however, when i ask her either to turn it down, pause it temporarily, or ask her to turn it off for a bit, she has a tendency to get mad/upset. to the point of throwing a bit of a fit over it, in a way that to me seems a bit attention seeking (in the bad way). she says things like "fine, whatever." and flaps her arms about dramatically or slaps her legs, or she says "i don't even wanna watch it now, it's ruined."

i'll go ahead and say she's a bit self-centered in a lot of ways. for years she has said i've "targeted" her and "treated her terribly" even though any time i was (to her) doing these things, i was usually defending myself or telling her to do something that she needed to do that had been requested for days/weeks/months/sometimes years. i also have a tendency to ask her what she's doing, either out of genuine curiosity, or because she has done something strange to me that i didn't understand. which she gets mad over.

she also gets mad if i ask if she's coming over here (i have a tendency to walk/pace in certain areas to music, it helps with stress/adhd/also helps me write/act things out. she is very aware of this and this isn't really a problem.) or ask how long she will be over here. she seems to think me asking this is telling her she can't come over, or desperately trying to get her to move. admittedly sometimes i DO want her to move, but 90% of the time i am just asking so i know if i need to move to a different area to walk or just stop temporarily.

sometimes when i am having a particular peak in my ocd/anxiety/whatever else, i ask her not to talk for a moment/few minutes, either so i can do something i need to, or because i'm afraid it will make it worse. she'll either get mad about this, or go on a tangent about "not catering to me" and saying things "the real world doesn't work like this, and nobody cares that you have ocd/issues." she has a tendency to take my issues as a personal attack on her, when in reality i would ask anyone to stop for a moment.

she has a tendency to belittle me in a sense for it. i've tried to explain some of it to her (without revealing details of my trauma she doesn't know about, as most of my ocd is linked to severe ptsd.) and she says it "doesn't make any sense" and i "need to stop" and i "need to just make myself stop." she has ocd, and knows compulsions are not always rational, and yet still says these things.

part of my desire not to go to a therapist is because of her. she claims they will either try to put me away take me to another home/put me in foster care, or drug me up on medication that will make me dull. (the other part is more personal, and unrelated to her, but to my aforementioned trauma.)

one of the things i especially ask her not to do is whistle, or make a few other certain noises (eating loud, using nail files around me, etc) because they are especially triggering to me. she'll either blatantly refuse and say i "don't get to tell her what to do" or i don't "control her" (please note i am just asking, but when i DO specifically tell her to stop, it is because she either already knows this sound is triggering to me, or i've already asked, and i'm losing my patience.) or she'll do it louder/more just to trigger me further (my father also does this. sometimes as a joke which in some ways is worse.) or she'll go on the "not catering + nobody cares" tangent again.

i know my ocd and other issues can be a bit interrupting, but i don't ask huge things of her or anyone else. all i ask is for them to not make certain sounds around me, temporarily ask them to not do something/stop doing something, or ask them to do it a bit quieter for me. please note she has the ability to watch tv/videos on other devices with headphones easily, she just chooses not to. and worse of all, they treat it like it's not interrupting to me, when it affects my everyday life in ways far worse than asking/telling them not to do something.

it makes me feel unwanted and unappreciated, and i'll admit, i've contemplated....not existing, if you will, many times over this issue and others.

i just don't really know if i'm asking too much, or if they're just being shitty. i want outside opinions on this.

so, AITA?

(id put a tl;dr in here, but i don't really know what to put. feel free to do it for me. also, i know this was kinda long, but i needed to put some extra things in, sorry if thats like an inconvenience or anything!)

(adding my sideblog here so i can get notifs, @ocdaitathrowaway)

What are these acronyms?

[wisteriagoesvroom]

For the trope mashup thing whatever: arranged marriage and neighbors 👀 - CX

again not one i would've picked but thank you for prompting it !! this also uh, got longer than i thought.

(from the prompts mash up - still taking submissions)

--------

“What do you mean your visa’s running out?” Lando asks.

“I’m Australian. Not a magician. Commonwealth only gets you so far.” 

“I thought you were here on a scholarship.”

“Well. Yeah. But scholarships stop. Once you graduate.” 

Lando toes the doorway rug. It feels weird to be talking about this in the middle of the hallway, though the only other person who would be listening might be Mrs. Kapoor, and half the time it’s only because she sticks her head out to ask if Lando or Oscar would take one of her mystery vegan curries. Lando is neither a huge fan of vegan food nor curry, and he trusts Oscar’s word for it that it’s good because they eat it while playing Gran Turismo at Lando’s place. But Lando always accepts the curries nonetheless, because his parents raised him to be polite, and he wasn’t raised in a barn. (Even if he technically grew up in converted farmhouse in the countryside, but that was besides the point.)  Either way, this is slipping away from him much quicker than he’d anticipated. Late night hangouts, dropping mail and post-it notes, text messages about the community garden. The most inane smalltalk about things big and small from the origins of moths to whether aliens were out there or just chose to ignore the +44 area code. Oscar always laughing in the right places when Lando regales him about tales of his terrible online dating stories, Oscar always picking the pickles out of the roast beef bagels before he passes one to Lando. The corner of Lando’s sofa that Lando has started to think of as Oscar’s because he’s there so often, reading one of his books or trying to speedread a JSTOR article about the lifecycle of urban pathogens while Lando worked on artwork for his upcoming store launch. 

Lando’s synapses are firing too fast. His brain did that most days, and that was what made him exceedingly good at his job, and today in particular - it doesn’t feel like there’s any logical way out. 

Lando remembers that movie they watched once though. As a joke. The one they both pretended not to enjoy, with Sandra Bullock and Ryan Reynolds in Alaska. The one they watched when Oscar sat next to Lando on the sofa, and they both pretended the entire night that their knees weren’t touching. 

His therapist said he had a tendency to get ahead of himself when under stress. But it’s a joke, it’s not serious, there’s no way—

“We could just like, get married.”

Lando shoves his hands in his pockets. That came out way more calm and cooler than he thought it actually would.  And to his credit, Oscar doesn’t drop his mug of tea. Lando knows that’s his favourite one, because Lando got it for him, and it says Science is my superpower. Oscar does, however, slightly shift his grip on the mug.

“I feel like it’d be complicated to explain to my mum why I randomly married my upstairs neighbour?” 

“But it’s not a no.”

Oscar tilts his head. There’s a glimmer of something focused, maybe even hungry in his eyes. Oscar gets like that when his mind turns, when he’s working on an especially difficult thesis, when the pieces are forming and he can lock into the crucial details.

Lando is a little alarmed at how much he already recognises it, and how much more often he’d like to draw that reaction out. 

“If the facts don’t fit the theory, then reexamine the facts. Right?” Oscar says.

And Lando is there, in the doorway. Conscious that Mrs Kapoor might’ve heard everything, but all the more conscious that there’s a hammering in his heart that he can’t tell is nervousness, or anticipation. 

What’s the stress limit for a joke you’re probably already pushing too far? Lando thinks.

He isn’t sure.

But maybe it’s a thesis worth testing out.  

-------------

(and ok maybe i cheated a little on arranged marriage but i think this is the closest i could get with the contemporary context. thank you @cx-boxbox for the prompt <3)