#it *hopefully* is something closer to Future Girl or Future Girls

[auggieblogs]

"Dude, I have a boyfriend"

Max Verstappen x fem!reader

Author's note: Hi, hi, turns out I actually enjoy writing and I am also half decent at it? So, hopefully, I'll be writing more in the future:))

P.S.- This one shot is inspired by a very cute TikTok I saw recently (this morning). AND I AM SO DOWN BAD FOR MAX, LORD HELP ME!

Max Verstappen had been immersed in his world of sim racing for hours. He'd been practising tirelessly, determined to stay at the top of his game even when he wasn't out on the real racetrack. Meanwhile, his girlfriend, Y/N, had been in their cosy bedroom, strumming her guitar softly and humming along to the music she was creating. The soft, warm glow of fairy lights hung above their bed and bathed the room in a comforting ambience. It was one of those peaceful moments they cherished, each lost in their own world yet connected by the simple fact that they were together. But now, finally, he was done. He pushed away from his simulator, feeling the relief of stretching his legs after sitting for so long.

He walked into their bedroom, a fond smile playing on his lips as he watched her fingers glide across the strings, of her vintage guitar, creating a beautiful melody that filled the room. He approached her with the intention of showering her with kisses, but as he leaned in, Y/N playfully turned her head, avoiding his advances.

"Dude, I have a boyfriend," she said with a mock-serious expression.

Max froze for a moment, his brow furrowing in confusion. Had he missed something? Then realization dawned, and he burst into laughter. "Wait, what?" he chuckled. "You're dating someone? Tell me more about this mysterious boyfriend of yours."

Y/N giggled, setting her guitar aside and giving Max a teasing look. "Well, he's a pretty awesome guy. He's got this incredible talent for racing, and he's cute, too."

Max raised an eyebrow, pretending to be offended. "Cute, huh? Sounds like someone I should meet."

Y/N leaned closer, closing the distance between them. "Oh, you've met him plenty of times, Max Verstappen."

Max's playful grin returned as he wrapped his arms around Y/N, pulling her close. "Well then, I think it's time for me to have a little talk with this boyfriend of yours."

Y/N laughed as Max leaned in, capturing her lips in a sweet, lingering kiss. Their lips moved together in perfect harmony. When they finally pulled away, their foreheads rested against each other.

"You know," Max said with a twinkle in his eye, "I'm going to fight that boyfriend of yours for stealing my girl."

Y/N's eyes softened as she cupped Max's cheek. "I love you, Max."

Max's heart swelled with love, and he pressed another gentle kiss to her lips. "I love you too, Y/N."

[letters-to-lgbt-kids]

Hey dad

I'm a transgender (ftm) boy with unsupportive bio parents and tomorrow's my birthday, but bc of where I live and the school system, I'll be dead named over the speakers of the entire school wishing me a 'happy birthday' even though they're celebrating the birth of a baby girl who I don't have any attachments to anymore and nobody seems to want to celebrate their baby boy

My dear birthday boy,

I don't know which time zone you live in but you sent this some hours ago, so I assume "tommorow" is "today" now, so - Happy birthday! Cheers to another trip around the sun, may it be an amazing one! May this year bring more joy than you could ever imagine.

We don't know each other personally, of course, but I can say honestly that I'm so glad you were born, so this day is definitely a reason for me to celebrate as well. Thankyou for being here with us today!

Birthdays can be hard when you're getting misgendered and I can only imagine how painful it must be over the speakers. As I'm a bit late in answering, I assume this already happened, so all that I can say now is just: I'm sorry that happened and I can imagine all the painful feelings it brought up. Hopefully you can leave it behind you quickly and find positive things to look forward. If you can't think of anything, then i'm sure some of my followers will want to wish you a happy birthday as well, so maybe looking through the comments on this post will be something positive and uplifting for you!

You deserve to be celebrated just the way you are. And if it's of any comfort, my life experience (and that of my fellow trans friends) tells me you will be. You got a year older - and as a general rule of thumb getting older also means getting closer to freedom. Time goes on, and it brings new people in your life, and some of them will be lovely and supportive and see the real you.

But that's just a little reminder of the future. You live in the present, and right now and here you are allowed to feel hurt. All feelings are valid, even on a birthday.

For now, my anonymous birthday boy, I'll make a bad dad joke and tell you "Happy birthday, my son-shine!". But seriously, congratulations on growing into the man you are. I'm proud of you and I stand with you.

With all my love,

Your Tumblr Dad

[ohcorny]

so! it's been a year since i put never satisfied on hiatus, and 9 years since i started posting it, and rather than make you read everything if all you want to know is "when's it coming back?" the answer is still: don't know! but the answer has also shifted closer to "it isn't" the longer i've spent on break, and i think it's worth being up front about that.

i talked about it a little here a few weeks ago, but the long and short of it is that between taking on better paying work, writing better stories, and looking back at what i'd already done for never satisfied... i just don't think i want to continue it? the year off has been incredibly good for my mental health, and i can't see myself wanting to go back after the two-three years still ahead of me on my current project. that's not to say i never want to return to the characters or the concept, but if i did, i imagine it would be with something completely new, in a different form. after all, i started this comic when i was 21 years old, a lesbian, and a sophomore in college. i am now just shy of 30, a bi man, and overall a completely different person than i was, back when i was writing without a plan and putting all of my insecurities into the comic--insecurities i don't identify with anymore. lord i'm closer to rothart's age than i am to lucy's. hate that

anyway. you have all been extraordinarily kind for following never satisfied for as long as you have, for supporting it as much as you have, and being as patient as you have. whatever form never satisfied takes in the future (god willing, with a more cohesive story structure and A PLAN FOR THE ENDING, WHICH BY THE WAY I NEVER, EVER HAD) i hope to see you there!

in the meantime, as an update on where i'm at with the thing that made me stop working on NS: i finished it! all the pages for Hunger's Bite (if you remember it with a different title: no you don't) have been turned in and now it's just revisions and covers and then........ waiting a year until it can come out. because that's how it is in traditionally published graphic novels! nothing releases for a full year after you finished it! and you're even getting it earlier than was originally planned, because i'm a creature and finished it like three months ahead of schedule. i've also already started thumbnailing the sequel book which i can't talk about whatsoever and will now be working on that for the next two years and then HOPEFULLY the first book will have done well enough that i can sell a third! so you better buy it when it comes out next february!!!!!!

to ease you all into it, i wanted to do a little crossover to introduce the main characters. we have emery, whose design is fully and unintentionally just Seiji Again down to his color palette (but seiji would bully him if they met. like so hard. he's a wimp). then we have neeta, a girl who dreams of travel and cares deeply about worker's rights, and wick, a vampire agent investigating the mysterious and sinister new owner of the 1910s ocean liner emery and neeta call home. he's also gay. but sorry lucy, you aren't his type. you're not mean enough.

the best place to keep up with me these days is probably here, as this first book gets closer to release, i will probably be posting about it a lot. and i will certainly post about it here when there's an official release date and cover reveal! i hope you'll go read it. i really think if you liked never satisfied and its themes, you'll like hunger's bite!

thank you again for reading!!

[dantakeyoman]

You and Kiri Overhear Lo’ak Giving Neteyam Advice On How To Ask You Out (SFW / Comfort)

Reader is Fem! Omaticaya

CW: fluffy fluff, Neteyam is adorable, Lo’ak and Kiri duo strike again, all this is based on this one tik tok sound that I heard that was SO adorable, and it screamed Neteyam

“I’m telling you, that boy is obsessed! I’ve never seen someone pine over another so much,” Kiri laughed, giving you a playful shove.

“You’re just trying to make me feel better. If he liked me as much as you said, he would’ve said something already,” you playfully rolled your eyes, waving your friend off.

You two had just finished healing lessons with Mo’at, and were now on your way back to the Sully tent to hang out with the boys.

Kiri was swearing up and down that the feelings you had for Neteyam were very valid and very mutual, but you weren’t buying it.

Neteyam was a warrior, a Sully, a future Olo’eyktan.

You were just a simple girl who wanted to become a simple healer.

In your eyes, there was nothing special about you. You weren’t the best hunter, singer, or dancer.

So why would he ever like you?

A romantic relationship with Neteyam was a pipe dream. And to keep from getting hurt, you reminded yourself of this fact over and over again.

 “Well, my brother may not look it, but he’s an idiot. And a shy one at that. But that shyness and idiocy is alllll for you,” Kiri teased, giving you a few pokes in the stomach.

“Quit it!” you laughed, frantically shoving her hands away.

That was your tickle spot.

“You’re crazy! I could never say that!” a familiar voice exclaimed from inside a nearby tent.

You and Kiri quieted your giggles, turning to each other in confusion before moving closer to the home, peeking through a small tear.

“Shut it! Do you want the whole clan to hear?!” Lo’ak harshly whispered, shushing his older brother.

Neteyam.

“I’m sorry, but that’s far too bold. I’ll scare her away,” Neteyam dismissed, resting his hands on his knees, which were sat criss-cross.

Her?

You felt a piece of your heart break, and tears well in your eyes.

They were talking about a girl. One who Neteyam seemed fond of.

“We should go. It’s rude to listen in,” you whispered, your voice small and slightly broken.

Why were you feeling this way?

A lump in your throat seemed to grow larger and larger every time his words replayed in your head.

You had tried to push away your feelings, but at the first mention of another girl, it was made perfectly clear that you could not hide emotions so intense.

And Kiri was quick to pick up on this.

“Now hold on a minute. Let’s hear the rest,” she held your hand, giving it a comforting squeeze.

Little did the two of you know, Lo’ak had heard every word you said, and was now going to make it his mission to put on a show for Neteyam’s girl outside.

He knew his brother was a painful over-thinker, and would never make the first move on you.

So why not give him a little push?

“Okay, so what do you want to tell her then?” Lo’ak started again with a sigh, giving his brother tired eyes.

Neteyam groaned, raking a nervous hand through his braids. “That’s the problem. I don’t even know what to say.”

“Girls love compliments. So you gotta compliment her. Tell me a feature of (y/n)’s you like,” Lo’ak smiled, hopefully talking loud enough so you could hear

“Her eyes. They’re so big and beautiful, and have such a pretty, yellow color to them. I want to tell her this, but how should I?” Neteyam asked again.

“Just say it, bro. Walk up to her, flash her a nice smile, then say, Hey, (y/n). Did anyone ever tell you your eyes are beautiful?” Lo’ak demonstrated, making a Neteyam face at the last part.

You blushed so hard you thought you might burst.

Neteyam felt this way...about you?

“See, there you go again. You may be able to say that, but I cannot. I do not......I do not have your confidence,” Neteyam looked down at himself, hanging his head.

This was pathetic.

He needed to get help from his baby brother in order to talk to you.

He had faced his Iknimaya, Sky People, even his angry dad. But talking to you was scarier than all of those three things combined.

Lo’ak gasped, abruptly standing up from his seat. “You have loads to be confident about, bro! Just look at you.”

He smirked, walking over to his brother and giving him a firm pat on the back.

“You’re a strong warrior, a skilled hunter, and a killer with a bow and arrow. Not to mention you have the devilishly good looks of us Sully men. You’re the whole package, dude.”

Neteyam slightly smiled, thankful for his brother’s praise, but still on the fence about all this.

Lo’ak sighed, sitting down in front of the nervous boy.

“Let’s try something else. Why don’t you tell me what you like about her face? Her lips? Her hair? The way she braids her hair? What about-?” “I love all of it, okay!” Neteyam interrupted, unable to take this anymore. 

“I can’t pick one thing to like because they all are perfect to me. She is perfect to me. But I cannot just walk up to her and tell her this because what if she does not feel the same. I’d have poured my heart out, only for it to spill on the floor.”

Damn. 

Lo’ak had no idea his brother could be so poetic.

Sure, it would make him want to barf if anyone else had said it. But this was his brother, and he was happy for him.

Lo’ak smirked, realizing the trap he just led Neteyam in and giving his mental self a high-five.

Mission Accomplished.

Meanwhile, you were practically about to faint.

Your long time crush had just professed his love for you loud and proud.

And while you were over the moon with this news, Kiri’s I told you so face was starting to get on your nerves.

“C’mon. Let’s go before we get caught,” you whispered, getting ready to tip-toe away.

“You ladies can come in now!” Lo’ak cockily announced, you and Neteyam turning as pale as ghosts.

Shit.

...

taglist !!

@vane28282, @remutoast, @p1nkprint, @ladyorchidia, @anthonys-viscountess, @karmz-7319, @cantbuysophialove, @scarabruhs, @an0th3rsss, @deloe18, @mariiyoushi, @av1xar, @alexxcorona113, @may-and-lay, @overlyfancybreakfastfoods, @harshita-hiranyamayi, @qui-02, @myheartfollower, @morks-watermelon, @bangtanxberm, @adavenus, @sweetdayme4427, @lilac13

[chokamo]

| between the whispers of time

pairing : carlos sainz x fem!reader

summary : spending the break with family is a dream, and what’s more better than spending it with your family of . . . ?

a/n : i finally posted something

yourusername

liked carlossainz55, user, user, user and others.

yourusername our life lately 💐

user YES YES YES

user oh how dear they are to me

user 😫 thank u y/n for ur service

user her baby bump is growing

user -> getting closer to her due i suppose

user -> wishing y/n a safe delivery 🙏

user baby sainz 🥹

user -> not so little anymore!

user -> does baby sainz has a a name??

user -> nope! they are hiding it for privacy sake

user Y/NN you are GLOWING

user she’s gorgeous y’all

user my dream future

user till this day im still shocked about them having a child

user -> they’re almost in theirs 30’s i think it was bound to happen lol

user WAIT where is the boy???

user -> they have a BOY???

user -> OMG

user -> WHAT

user -> its been known but y/n and carlos never really spoke about it. seemingly to keep it private and let them spend time with him. 🤷‍♀️

user Y/NNNNN

user gorgeous stunning beautiful immaculate

user hiii baby sainz 💞

user awww love this family

carlossainz55

liked by yourusername, user, user and others.

carlossainz55 mi familia (my family) @/yourusername

user DAD CARLOS ‼️‼️‼️

user WAHHHH

user omgggggg

user AWWWWW

user exuding d.i.l.f

yourusername mi corazón está lleno de amor 💞 (my heart is full)

user the contrast between y/n’s post and his is so 🥹

user -> from the pink and now to the blue

user -> he’s getting ready for williams 🤣🤣

user -> LMAOOO

user -> who taught him this aesthetic??? 🤣🤣🤣

user -> definitely miss y/nn 😫😫

user AWWW how old is he now? 🥰

user -> we can assume he’s in the month-ish to a year-ish…?

user -> time fly by so fast 😭

user -> WHAT!!? it felt like yesterday when they announced the first girl 🥲

user -> and now she’s a big sister and the boy is a big brother once their third comes

user wholesome right here

user how MANY children do they have??? 😭

user -> they keep them so hidden it’s impressive

user -> ikr!!!

user -> even im confused 😕

user -> genuinely curious how they do it..

user -> as of now we know they have a girl a boy and a baby incoming

user -> woah!

user -> that’s crazy

yourusername

liked by carlossainz55, user, user and others.

yourusername last date in a while 💞

user you are the loml

user the matching plushie is so 😫

user goals 🥰

user the VIBES. the AESTHETIC

user -> ikr!!!! i always love her post .

user the embodiment of stunning

user the last one before the half of the season

user awww nooo 😔😔

user -> dont say that even if it’s true

user hoping to see y/n during the races

user -> and their babies!!!

user -> safely!! hopefully!!

user have a beautiful date

user my PARENTS. literally.

user where did you guys go??

user -> somewhere

user this made my day

user the plushies 🥹🥹🥹

user -> the same one they had years ago

user -> what a time

user -> remember the crazy amount of hate she was getting!?!? 😕

user -> it was so horrible 😞

user -> thankfully she’s getting more love now 🤍

carlossainz55 and yourusername

liked by yourusername, user, user and others.

carlossainz55 and yourusername el fin (the end)

user you can’t just dump this lore and dip 😭😭

user OMG

user congratulations

user BABY THREE

user -> their third baby is a BOY

user -> AWWW

user love that they don’t need to say anything about their children.

user -> agree!! they dont own anyone anything

user -> we didn’t even know their second child was born 🤣

user -> what they show is enough for us to appreciate 🥰

user they have THREE

user CONGRATULATIONS

user welcome baby #three !!!!

user their girl is getting big now 🥹

user 💞💞💞

user where is their second child???

user -> i assume he’s in the third post

user this ends their active streak 😔

user -> NOOOOO

user -> we will see them again in the near future lol

user -> WAIT what?? i dont get it

user -> y/n doesn’t post much during the season unless carlos has a break

user -> she usually post about their family

user -> yeah, i will patiently wait for their return

user hoping for a carlos win 🥇

user -> YES speak it to existence

-

a/n : yes i color-coordinated the pics i think its a new obsession of mine <3

check out my other post! masterlist

disclaimer: this is a work of fiction, the events and characters depicted are not based on real life, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

[taintandviolent]

Thrill of the Rush ; James March x reader

summary: Reader is a murderer, coquettish and demure in nature. She brings a man to the Hotel Cortez, and it ends how it always ends for them. The only difference, is that James March is watching her and is enamoured.

word count & w a r n i n g s: 2.6k! | serial killer!reader, graphic descriptions of murder, violence, blood and gore, descriptions of smut, cunnilingus, arousal, kissing/making out.

a/n: requested by anonymous and inspired by Lana Del Rey's Serial Killer song! hopefully this isn't too clunky, or boring in anyway! proofread very briefly, if you see any mistakes, no you didn't.

full fic under cut! ↓ / ao3 link here! / I don't have a taglist, but please turn on post notifications if you'd like to be notified of future fics!

Elvis’s voice drifted from your speaker. The hotel room was cool, a stark contrast to the hot LA summer outside. The room itself was outdated in decor and architecture, something that you found charming – you’d chosen it specifically for its gorgeous, untouched art deco style. Stephen protested, saying it was rundown and dingy. You shushed him with a single manicured finger and led him inside, heading straight for the hotel desk. 

He was a man. A stupid, hungry man who could only think with one head at a time. So, it didn’t take much for you to get up to the hotel room, and onto the bed. You’d let the strap of your dress fall off your creamy soft shoulder, coaxing him closer to you.

He nuzzled his lips into your breast, tugging softly at the skin. He muttered something into your skin, something grotesque, and you didn’t hear him. You were too busy listening to the thud of your own heartbeat – your own excited little heartbeat. You reached into your purse, which had been laying next to you, to retrieve the knife. It was a beautiful thing; pink pearlescent inlay on the handle, and a long, shimmery silver blade. 

Raising it high above his head, your elegant fingers gripped the rosy hilt of your knife, and using all your strength, stabbed it into the side of the man's neck. The blade sliced through his skin like butter, giving no resistance. There was nothing like the sensation of killing – it never failed in making your eyes glisten, a cruel fire burning bright within them. Your chest fluttered with excited little breaths, rushing out over your pouting, pink lips in tiny gusts. The thrill, the rush, it was unlike anything you’d ever experienced – even sex. No man had ever made you feel the way killing him did. You twisted the knife slightly. 

In response, he gurgled; a delightful sound that had you giggling. You had angled the knife just right, plunging it deep before yanking it out quickly. The blood spurted out in a warm geyser over your hand, trailing down your wrist in crimson ribbons. His hand flew to his neck, pitifully trying to stop the flowing river. You slapped his hand away softly. 

"Pl-please..." He murmured, as his body started to droop away from yours. 

You bent over, kissing the man on the forehead. As darling as you had been before, maybe even more so then. “Oh, baby…” you whispered, cloyingly sweet and soft like a summer day. He knew that he was going to die, and the begging was futile. Still, he persisted, wet and coughing between each plea. 

You pushed him off of your breast, and more blood squirted out, the arteries pumping it out with each beat of his heart. James' dark pupils widened, watching as you worked. He hadn’t made himself known yet, and wouldn’t until you were finished. Nothing should interrupt this delicious display of cruelty. 

“Tell me you love me,” you whispered. “Tell me I’m the sweetest girl you’ve ever seen.” He didn’t. He didn’t say anything else… and he never would again. 

“Hmph.” Frustrated, you got off the bed, and smoothed your hands over your hips; the satin of your slip dress was warm and soft and provided no friction. 

"Seems you've got yourself between a rock and hard place, my dear." 

You spun around. In front of you stood a dashing man, dressed to the nines and resting some of his weight on a cane. He was handsome, but possessed a coldness that drew you in. He wasn't like the others.

"How did you get in here?!" 

"The door was..." He turned to look at it, casually. "Open." 

"No..." You shook your head, soft curls bouncing. Your tone was coy, knowing. "No, it wasn't." 

"Ah," he said, tightening his lips into a sly smile. Had his heart been beating, it would’ve quickened at your darling little response. You were quick; a trait that he enjoyed and very rarely saw.

"He deserved it, you know." You looked at the man on the bed with a disproving sourness in your gaze. His body had slumped over the side of the mattress, blood streamed from the gash in his neck to his hairline, staining it red. 

"I don't doubt that." He inhaled, stepping further into your room. "However... The problem remains of what to do with him. I presume you’ve yet to figure that out." His voice had your knees weak, turning the tendons to jell-o every time he spoke. It was so deep and croony, like molasses if it had a voice. 

"No," you trilled. "No, but you seem like you do." 

"I do," he started. There you went with your quick-witted confidence again. "You see, I have built this hotel to satisfy... my every need and whim, whatever they may be. I have a way to dispose of him for you." 

Your hand lifted to your shoulder, your finger winding a lock of hair around it. You pursed your lips, as though you were considering his offer. The truth was, you’d already made up your mind. He was dangerous, unafraid, but interested in you. A refreshing change from the rest of the men that you courted and ultimately killed. Besides, he was right. You had a corpse in the room and were unsure what to do with it, besides leaving it and requesting another room, claiming something trivial like the hot water not working. 

"Why are you doing this?" You ask, running your tongue along the bottom of your teeth, before coming to rest in the corner of your mouth. "You don't even know me." 

"I don't, my little buttercup, this is fact, but what I do know of you, I crave." 

Your knees wobbled. Somehow, he’d captivated you. You were never taken by men; they were useless, dumb playthings that you disposed of as soon as you got bored with them. You were never the one that was wrapped around a finger, it was always the other way around. But something… something about this man and the sick, nasty glimmer in his pitch-black eyes had you shivering.

“James March,” he declared proudly, before offering his hand. You placed your own atop his palm, and he leaned down, pressing his lips softly against your knuckles. Your lips tensed, withholding a whimper. 

All at once, he closed in the distance between the two of you. Exactly what you wanted him to do, and without asking. You gasped, looking up into his soulless gaze. “Hold me,” you whispered. “Please.” 

With a single nod, he enclosed you in a frighteningly firm grasp. You weren’t going anywhere – not that you wanted to. 

“I don’t know what you do… or what you’ve done…” you whispered, feeling light in his arms. He held you like old movie stars held their beloved; arms wrapped passionately around the waist, holding you tight at the hip. James waited, on bated breath, for you to finish your sentence. Instead, you stood on your tiptoes, and pressed your soft lips against his. They were cool, and immediately surrendered to yours, parting to exhale into your mouth. As his breath filled your lungs, you succumbed to every feeling he was pulling from you; your legs quivered and pressed together tightly. Your core tightened, and your cunt clenched with arousal. Slick leaked into the silk of your underwear, staining the fabric with your submissiveness.

His head tilted, allowing him to go deeper inside your mouth. His tongue slipped along yours, twirling and exploring the soft, slippery flesh of your mouth. Without breaking the kiss, James walked you backwards, guiding you towards the bed. His shin knocked into the corpse’s head, which lolled lifelessly.

You were at his mercy, and gasping for air, broke the kiss to look down at your feet. Stephen’s eyes were glazed over now, void of life. He had paled, the crimson stark against his bloodless skin. A puddle had settled beneath his head, seeping into the carpet. You broke away from James and bent down, shoving all your weight down on Stephen's shoulders. Rigor mortis hadn’t set in, so he rolled over easily, towards the edge of the bed, which freed up most of the bed for whatever came next. 

You immediately snuggled yourself back into James’ arms, nestling against his chest. “There… all better.” 

He hmm’ed at the crown of your head, holding you tight. His hips ground against yours, a stiffness pressing into your hip bone. A reminder – he was a man. But not akin to the other men… he was different. You looked up, gazing into his eyes. 

James guided you backwards onto the bed, your ass hitting the mattress with a squeak of protest from the old springs. Placing one hand on either side of your hips, he kissed you again, urging you back further yet. He was intoxicating. Everything he did had you quivering like a lamb in the jaws of a wolf – and you wanted more of it. More of everything. You wanted him. 

“I love you just a little too much,” you cooed, brushing your lips over his neck. The satin of his ascot brushed against your chin and you longed to feel it tied around your wrists. Your hand brushed along his bulge, feeling the taut fabric that covered it. As the feelings bubbled up inside of you, effervescent like champagne, you couldn’t stand it. No man should ever make you feel the way he did and with a small gasp of air, you reached for your knife again. James caught you fast, holding your wrist in an iron grip. 

“I’m afraid not, my dear. You won’t get that pleasure with me.” 

“Pleasure?” You asked, doe-eyed, feigning innocence yet again. 

“Perhaps another pleasure,” he cooed against your lips, his moustache tickling the flesh under your nose. You were divine… a shining beacon of temptation amongst a sea of poor fools. It had been decades since a woman captivated him the way you did. 

James sank to his knees, slowly, as you watched, holding your breath. His hands gathered your satin slip over your knees, and pushed it over your hips, exposing your silken underwear. The wet spot had grown considerably, and James pressed his lips against the damp fabric. The sensation was electric, sending chills up your spine in a wave of unadulterated pleasure. He kissed her again, pressing harder. He could almost taste her through the silk. You whimpered, and let your head drop between your shoulders. He brushed his lips across your mound again, and you got even wetter. For a brief moment, he disappeared and the reaction was painfully visceral.

“Don’t…. Don’t stop…” you said to the ceiling, out of breath and trembling. You could hardly get yourself upright to look at him. 

“I’ve no intention of doing so, my dear. None whatsoever.” Carefully, as though unwrapping a delicate gift, James pulled your underwear from your hips, tugging them delicately down your thighs. Murder always got him worked up, but this was an entirely different arousal.

“Let me see her…” he said, low His hands were on your thighs, resting carefully atop of them. 

Using your manicured fingers, you reached forward to spread your cunt to him, eagerly, obediently. She glistened in the low-lighting of the room and you heard him inhale. He leaned closer to her and began kitten-licking between your folds, sending a shockwave through your core. She clenched uncontrollably, tightening. James paused to observe, pleased with the reaction. He’d done so little, and you were already a mess. Placing his hands behind your knees, he scooted you further towards him.

Your cunt ached with everything he did; from the gentle touches to the way that his moustache tickled the soft skin of your inner thigh. You weren’t used to your heart beating this quickly outside of killing someone. He was making you feel things you’d long since forgotten. 

To say that you never experienced sexual pleasure would be a lie; you did. Usually, covered in blood and panting, after a kill, your body and senses would be so wound up that you’d finger yourself, use a vibrator, something to get yourself off. But this orgasm, you knew, would be different. And much quicker. 

With a breath, he flattened his tongue against your cunt, lapping at it hungrily. Your muscles all trembled, the first hint of an orgasm clawing at your insides. And just before you did, he pulled away. Cruelly. Mercilessly. As though he knew that he had you under his spell…. Oh, you’d kill him if he’d only let you. 

James slipped two fingers inside your waiting, wet cunt. You let out a desperate yelp, rocking your hips back and forth to meet his fingers. Electricity coursed through your core, your body quivering again. His fingers drilled into you, curling upwards with each thrust, hitting your sensitive spot. The pressure increased, the coil in your stomach winding tighter and tighter around itself. You were close. 

“Speak to me,” he ordered. “Use your voice.” 

You swallowed, wetting your throat. It was frightfully hard to form words, your mind was too clouded with arousal and ecstasy. “C-can’t…. Feels…. So good….” 

James leaned forward again, the tip of his tongue drilling into your sensitive clit, twirling at it. After a moment, he encircled your clit with his lips, sucking softly. You were sweet, wet and singing for him. James hummed into your pussy, satisfied. With his fingers still thrusting inside you, the overstimulation was too much. Your coil snapped, and your hands flew to his hair, making tight fists in the greased locks. 

As you orgasmed, you called his name, chanting it over and over again like a prayer. He was there, between your legs, tugging you over the edge with whispered praises against your throbbing cunt. An attentive lover, James didn’t stop fucking you – or licking at you – until the final pulse subsided. 

“Now that I’ve made you mine,” he said, straightening up. “Let’s deal with your little hobby, my dear.” 

Made you his? You thought, chewing on the corner of your lip, as your eyes bored into his. How dare he – made you his. Despite feeling like you’d been bamboozled, you knew it was true. He’d made you his, and barred you from loving any other man again.

A knock at the door. You looked down at Stephen – you’d almost forgotten he was there. James got to his feet as the door opened, and you noticed that his cock had tented in his trousers, pulling against the fabric, begging for release. You gasped, looking at the woman as she entered. She was pushing a silver room service cart, though it was empty. 

“Fret not my dear, it’s nothing she hasn’t seen before.” 

You furrowed your brows; his erection or a corpse in a hotel room? You weren’t sure which. Effortlessly, James hoisted Stephen’s expired body up onto the cart, waving his hand dismissively towards the woman, who hmm’d curtly, and made her way back towards the door. 

“Follow me,” he said, jovially as he headed towards the open door. He began whistling a tune, as though wheeling a body out into the hallway was the most normal, routine thing he’d done all day. Perhaps it was. You heaved a breath, and got up off the bed, pulling your underwear back up. 

“James, James, wait!” 

He paused. 

“Aren’t you going to… well…” 

His eyes followed yours to his groin, which was still stiff. You sucked on your bottom lip, looking up at him with come-hither eyes. Curiosity had gotten the best of you. Despite having just come, you wanted more, and you desperately wanted to know what the weight of his cock felt like in your hands.  

“Oh.” He smiled, pleased. With a slow nod, he reached forward to cup your chin with his large hands. “I’ll get mine.” 

[dxstopiaa]

Close Confinement

Synopsis: Party games were a great way to pass the time, but seven whole minutes with the scribe himself? [Request]

Characters: Al Haitham x Fem! Reader.

Warnings: NSFW content, interact at your own risk. [Includes: Soft sex, Virginity loss, semi-public sex, praise, pet names] [it took me a while to write this, but i hope you like it! <3]

Boring, tiresome and irrelevant.

The trinity of words which circulated the young post-graduate’s mind, all to describe the topic of socialising and parties. If it was up to his own decision, Al Haitham would’ve rejected the offer in less than a second. However, it was not.

Duties and desideratum of the Akademiya’s students, he was told. According to many of the matra, there was a high demand of past students requesting a sort of reunion— a celebration, as illustrated on the infamous community message board.

In short, the Acting Grand Sage had no choice but to cater to their desires, hence the situation he found himself in. Snapping back from his thoughts, he glanced back at the venue he had organised, half proudly, half nonchalantly. Not too bad for the first try.

Of course, with the help of his rather irritating roommate, who wasn’t as insufferable when he had something to occupy himself with. Kaveh stood expectantly beside the Scribe, tapping his pen on his pale lips, surveying the checklist he had prepared. The quiet hum which left him already told he was satisfied enough.

One topic that Al Haitham didn’t see on aforementioned list was guest entertainment, something that he ignored in hopes of not having to deal with it. Spoiler from his future self— that approach did not go to plan.

Instead, the Acting Grand Sage found himself musing over you, who currently sat opposite from him. That sweet, soft-hearted girl who always greeted him so kindly, always keen to listen to his theses and reports with such attention. Even now, you just looked too cute for the most stoic of men to ignore. The Scribe would gladly play any silly game to amuse you.

“Al Haitham, just spin the bottle already!” Cyno groaned, wanting nothing more than to get this stress-inducing situation over with. A series of agreements from the other two graduates followed. You merely stared at him with anticipation.

He’s changed a lot, you thought. Appearance wise, his silver tresses were more the shade of oxidised metal, not to mention his muscular physique, just how much has he undergone in recent years? Still as nerdy as ever though, another book resting on his lap.

The ashen-haired scholar scoffed—smoothing his fingers over the virescent glass, pushing it into a spinning motion. Friction worked its magic, slowing down till the neck of the bottle faced directly towards you.

The group immediately began snickering, observing your cheeks redden, putting the ripest of berries to shame. You looked up again, witnessing the smug expression of success on their faces. The tension between you both was overpowering, about time they did something about it.

“That settles it then! Go on..” Kaveh coerced, pushing the both of you into a poorly-furnished conference room to the left of the lounge and locking the door from the outside.

Cliché. Was this a punishment or rather a reward from the gods?

Al Haitham didn’t know what to do with himself. This wasn’t like him at all to be thinking in such ways but— Archons, your dress barely covered your thighs from him.

You were biting the insides of your cheek, averting your eyes to anywhere but him, despite only being a few inches away. You’d understand his actions soon enough, hopefully.

He cupped your face with his palm, brushing away stray strands of hair that obstructed the view of your precious eyes. Your breath hitched, leaning into his gentle touch. He pulled you in closer, intending to wordlessly claim you as his own.

“May I?” Al Haitham pleaded, his piercing, turquoise irises tainted with affection. His voice was quiet— almost strained, like he was afraid of rejection, something you’d never do to him.

You hastily nodded your head, wrapping your arms around his neck. He kissed you delicately, a faint taste of sweet wine still left on his lips. The Scribe trapped your body against the wall, pulling away just to kiss you again at the sight of your smudged lipstick. His mouth trailed down to your neck as his hands did to your waist.

His touch was hypnotic— your mind was hazy and overcast with him, countless dreams of this years ago now enacted in-front of you. His hands travelled further, grasping onto the underside of your thighs and wrapping your legs around him to stand comfortably imbetween them.

Al Haitham was curious as to how you’d react. Would you be quiet and anxious, rarely moaning and instead gasping? Or would you be vocal, crying his name out at any given moment? He traced a slender finger over the front of your panties, observing you squirm into his touch.

“Haitham…” You muttered, a flutter of butterflies swarming deep within, each flickering motion of a wing seeming to spur a different emotion. Desperation, apprehension and lust.

“Yes, darling?” He continued to skim over your clit underneath the fabric, clouding your thought process over. You reached to cover your mouth, whimpering into your own hand.

“I haven’t done this before—” You whined upon feeling his clothed erection press up against you, needily rolling your hips against him. Your face flushed from the confession and the sinful noise you let out.

“I’ll be gentle, angel.” The Scribe comforted, which felt strange for him to utter such words. Anyone who knew the scholar would be aware of his abrasive, arrogant nature— but his heart followed no limits when it came to you.

And gentle he was, softly pleasuring you with skilled fingers, coaxing angelic sounds from your pretty, hesitant lips. Al Haitham wanted nothing more than to see them swollen and wet from kisses. A few seconds later you were essentially begging for his cock, palming his crotch with your inexperienced hand.

Your pleads were just adorable, who was he to deny you of what you wanted? With his fingers wet with your slick, he slid them over his flushed tip. It was quite the confidence boost for you to exclusively see the Acting Grand Sage deteriorated to this mindless state.

He prodded at your pussy, barely even managing to hilt himself with you clenching so tightly, hearing your timid sobs from the stretch, tears forming in your eyes.

“I know, darling, try to relax for me…” Al Haitham amorously whispered, planting short-lived pecks on your forehead whilst he massaged your thighs softly, giving you a few moments to adjust before beginning to move.

The feeling of his girth dragging against your insides was a simultaneous sensation of pain and pleasure. You struggled to restrain yourself, opting to bury your face against the scholar’s chest. With each prolonged thrust, your brain struggled to comprehend anything else.

“You’re doing so well, angel.” Al Haitham could feel you squeezing around his cock at his words, murmuring how it was all too much for you, phrases adjourned by blissful moans. You were close, those erotic grunts from his ajar mouth did nothing but worsen the tingling in your lower abdomen.

A final firm thrust and you finished around his cock, gripping onto him so much that he came inside of you. Your sublime expression so innocent, eyes half-lidded in euphoria. The Scribe pulled out, letting you stumble against him for support.

“So good for me, let me clean you up, sweetheart.”

The long-forgotten graduates were still at the very same table, entertaining themselves with numerous glasses of alcohol and a card game of the General’s choice. It’d be a complete lie if they were to say they hadn’t had a clue about your prior predicament.

The lipstick stains over Al Haitham’s face and neck, his dishevelled hair accompanied with your dress creased and legs still trembling from implied events— all telltale signs of something more explicit.

“It’s called seven minutes in heaven, not thirty minutes making your neighbour’s ears hell!” An embarrassed complaint from an even more ashamed blonde, flicking a card at his chuckling roommate.

[overtrred28]

Something out of a rom com | Steph Catley x reader

Summary; The night of Steph’s 30th birthday party leads to the telling of your romantic love story that really should be made into a rom com. 

Words; 2.5k

Pairing; Steph Catley x reader

Warnings; none really, pure fluff

A/N; This is in honour of her birthday and I wrote it because I had the idea during a shower and I just had to write it. It might not be the best but hopefully it's cute and decently written. I’ve also got two blurbs for other players in the process atm so stay tuned for that!

The 26th of January. A seemingly normal day to most people, but it was in fact one of your favourites. It not only marks the day you met the love of your life and future wife, but it coincidentally happened to be her birthday as well. It also happened to be today's date once again. 

So here you sat in your shared living room, Steph snuggled up to you on the couch surrounded by some of the people who loved her the most after a very successful 30th birthday party. 

A lot of other party goers had left as it was getting late, except for almost half of her Arsenal teammates who always seemed to linger after events such as these, not that you minded. 

Different conversations littered the room, most didn’t make sense because of the alcohol that was still flowing. But it was the newest team member Emily Fox who brought the group back together. 

“So, how long have you guys been together?” Emily asked, sitting directly across the room from you and Steph. 

“Almost 3 years now.” Steph smiled at her and the rest of the group listened in. 

“Oh my god, their relationship story is like something out of a rom com!” Jen talked excitingly whilst looking at Emily. 

“What do you mean?” You looked at Jen first and then down to Steph who looked just as confused. 

“Wait, I’ve never heard the full story.” Kyra piped up from her place on the floor beside Alessia. 

“Me either.” Alessia raised a finger while looking between you and Steph.

“It’s not that exciting.” Steph let out a laugh which caused Kyra and Alessia to pout. 

“Yes it is. Now listen up children…” Beth cleared her throat from the other edge of the couch next to Viv who was rolling her eyes as Beth began to tell your love story. 

6 years ago, January 26th 2018

“Oh come on, just let us go out one last time before you leave me forever!” Your best friend was standing in your room as you laid on your bed and stared up at her. 

“Do I have to?” You tried giving her puppy eyes but it wasn’t working, she walked closer to your bed, sitting down and taking your hands in hers.

“You, my best friend of 10 plus years, are leaving me for London for who knows how long.” She pouted at you. “Of course you have to go out with me one last time. So get up, look hot and start drinking.” She pulled your covers off you and dragged you to your vanity, placing a drink in front of you and leaving to go get ready herself. 

Over an hour later you were both ready and a little tipsy, ready to leave and adventure into the Melbourne nightlife. 

It took a while for you to find a club that was half decent and didn’t have ridiculously overpriced drinks but you secured a place in the corner and were finishing your like 10th drink of the night. 

“I’m going to get another, you want one?” You shouted over the music to your friend and pointed to the bar. She shook her head before talking into your ear.

“I’m gonna go on the dance floor, come find me when you're done?” She pointed to where most people congregated and you sent her a thumbs up before weaving through way too many drunk people. 

You accidently bumped into someone as you tried to reach the bar, someone else pushing you in the crowd causing you to fall into her. 

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry.” You apologised as she began to turn around and you suddenly found yourself staring at the most beautiful girl you’ve ever seen. 

“Don’t even, it’s so fine.” She replied with a sweet smile and placed a hand on your arm sending chills up it. 

“I’m going to take a wild guess and say it’s your birthday?” You laughed as your eyes drifted down the sash she was currently wearing. 

“My friends made me wear it, hoping I could score us a few free drinks.” She shook her head and laughed with you. 

“Well, let’s not disappoint and let me buy you a drink.” You smiled at her and if it weren't for the dark lighting, you would have seen the blush that accompanied her beautiful smile. 

“You don’t have to.” She immediately rejected but this time you reached down and held her arm. 

“I insist, birthday girl.” You winked before leading her through the crowd again and finally reaching the bar. “Order whatever you want.” You leant down to her ear as you waited for a bartender. 

She politely asked the bartender for her drink of choice before he looked over to you.

“Make it two, please.” You smiled before pulling your card out to pay. You both thanked the bartender before walking away and standing against a wall out of the way. 

“Thank you.” She looked up at you with a smile again. 

“My pleasure.” You couldn't stop staring at her, she was the most beautiful person ever and she was talking to you. “Wanna go dance? I told my friend I would meet her when I was done.” You asked after finishing your drinks in silence.

“I would love to, but…” She looked down at her watch and you could feel the smile falling off your face. “I’ve got an early morning and my cut off was supposed to be 12.” She made a pout at you.

“That’s okay, I get it.” You nodded and sent her a tight lipped smile.

“There is something I have to do before I go though.” She sent you a smirk and you creased your eyebrows in confusion. 

“What?” You looked down at her, barely having any time to think before she reached up and kissed you hard, placing a hand on your face. Immediately your hand fell to her waist and you fell into a rhythm.

The kiss was very nice and a little long but it ended and you parted with big smiles. 

“I really have to go now.” She smiled and let out a little laugh. 

“Okay cinderella.” You bit your lip before letting her go and she ran off through the crowd to find her friends. You stood in a daze for a second before a hand clasped your shoulder, shaking you out of your trance.

“Oh my god, who was that?” Your best friend had spotted the end of the kiss as she came to find you but didn’t see her face. 

“Um,” You blinked before turning to her. “I… don’t… know.” You realised she never shared her name and neither did you. And now she was gone; a mystery kiss from the mystery birthday girl. 

3 years later, May 19th 2021

You have been in London for 3 years now, working for an event planning company, establishing a close group of friends and having the time of your life. 

Some of the friends you made had managed to drag you along to a women's football match now that people were allowed back to the matches after the covid lockdown last year, despite your lack of interest in or awareness of the sport, either male or female.

So here you were at Meadow Park on a Wednesday evening, watching a sport you’ve never taken interest in but were enjoying to some degree in the fading spring sun.

“I told you. I knew you would enjoy it eventually.” Your friend shoved your shoulder after seeing you get up when it was thought a shot might finally go in for the home side and her team of choice, Arsenal. 

“Yeah, yeah.” You brushed her off, eyes focused on the game at play and becoming more and more invested with each pass. 

It wasn’t till halfway through the second half that a certain defender caught your eye as she ran past and towards the opposite end of the field. There was something about her that seemed so familiar but you couldn’t place it. 

The game ended in a 0-0 draw and left you with a new interest that would soon turn into a regular outing on Sundays and Wednesdays, instead of your regular dinner and drinks throughout the week. 

The players began to do their rounds and you stuck around, waiting to spot a certain defender once again and figure out the mystery that was the jersey with ‘Catley’ plastered over her back.

She had been talking with another player as they walked, eyes scanning the crowd for any fans with signs or hopeful smiles when she found your eyes further up, you resting along the barrier. The words fell from her lips and the player beside her was tapping her shoulder in an attempt to gain her focus once again but it was no use. 

“One sec.” She gently spoke before running over to where you were standing, now looking down at your phone and missing her completely until a familiar accent fell on your ears. 

“Hi.” She gave you a smile and your head whipped up from your screen, finding that beautiful face from all those years ago in your sights again. 

“Hi.” You breathed out as you assessed her features and reassured yourself you weren’t once again imagining those eyes that plagued your dreams every few months. 

“Fancy seeing you here, halfway across the world.” She spoke again, noticing that you were in a sort of daze still. 

“Uh yeah. Sorry, this is just so weird.” You shook your head, letting out a laugh. “Not in a bad way,” You spoke quickly. “I just never thought I would see you again. Especially not halfway across the world.” She smiled at your shyness, the opposite to the confident you she remembers; though you are quite confident with alcohol in your system. 

“Yeah.” Steph laughed and continued to analyse your features, every part of that night coming back to her in full view rather than scattered pieces of memory like she has for the last three years. 

“So,” You tried to keep the conversation flowing, realising you would have to wrap up soon so she could get back to her team and you to your friends. “Do you think I could finally get the name and number that's not on the back of your shirt? I think that’s something you forgot all those years ago.” You smiled at her and began pulling your phone from its place in your pocket. 

She let out a laugh, a real one before nodding. “Oh yeah. I guess so.” She held your phone in her hands and began adding a contact in, handing it back quickly. “There you go.”

“Thank you.” You took a look at your phone before returning eye contact with her, feeling once again that same thing inside your chest from the night you first met. “I’ll call you, Steph.” You nodded, beginning to retreat from the barrier and up the stairs. 

“And who should I be expecting said call from?” She called out to you, stopping you in your tracks to turn your head back around. 

“Y/N.” You smiled before being the one walking away this time and leaving her with a dazed expression and confused friends. 

“Who was that?” Beth appeared beside her, looking at the retreating girl Steph had just interacted with but couldn’t see the face. 

“Um,” Steph shook her head. “An…old…friend.” She turned her face to Beth who was more confused than ever but began walking towards the changerooms with the rest of the team. 

Over the next few weeks it seemed like you and Steph were texting every spare second you each had when she wasn’t training and you weren't working, even before you could finally arrange a time to meet up and have your official first date. 

She suggested you go out for dinner one night before she was set to go off and play in the delayed 2020 Tokyo Olympics over the summer. You had the best time together, chatting for hours and catching up on everything over the past few years, talking as if you had known each other forever. The night ended and she walked you back to your apartment which happened to be just down the street from hers, once again leaving you with a kiss that left you feeling dazed; but this time she couldn’t run and hide from you. 

After watching and cheering on Steph and the national team at the Olympics from home, you knew that this was the person you wanted to pursue a future with. 

So when she came back you made it official with one another, a private time for the two of you to continue to learn everything about one another until you were ready to share it with your friends and the world. 

After a few months of secretly dating, realising this is how the rest of your life was going to look like, you began to share with friends, family and eventually the media which caused a flurry in the football world because of Steph’s public status. It turned out to be even better for your relationship now that you could express your love for one another to other people. 

“And then last year, Steph decided to pop the question the day before Y/N wanted to do it.” Beth concluded the story, somehow managing to keep everyone invested despite the late hour and disappearing energy from tonight's events. 

“Thank you Beth, that was quite an accurate retelling.” You smiled over at the blonde, reaching out for a high whilst trying not to disturb Steph who had actually fallen asleep. “But I think you bored Stephy here to sleep.” You brushed the hair on her head and her eyes snapped open with a sharp inhale. 

“Huh?” Steph began to sit up, looking around the room in confusion, all of her teammates letting out small giggles, you simply looking down at her with admiration. 

“I think you’re too old now for all this partying darling.” You laughed at her watching her face form into a scowl. 

“I am 3 months older than you!” She pointed a finger at you, now pouting while looking up into your eyes. 

“Well this looks like fun, we’ll leave you two to it then.” Lia spoke for the group as they all began standing from their places, yourself and Steph rising from the couch too so you could say goodbye at the door. 

“Bye!” You both waved at the last people before you closed the door, Stephs arms securely wrapped around your waist, head against your chest. 

“Let’s get you to bed, cinderella.” You laughed, picking her up by her thighs and carrying her like a koala to your bedroom. 

“Thank you, my princess charming.” Steph mumbled into your neck, placing a soft kiss there while you let out a small laugh. Maybe this was like something out of a rom com.

THE END

[jamethinks]

One type of fanfic i just cannot read is future Anya fics because they always get her wrong. And i get it this is just how future fics work but i feel it's important to remember that Anya is only the way she is currently because she is a child and to me on of the most important parts of the story is how much being adopted by Twilight changed her life and put her on the trajectory for growth that she otherwise would have been denied.

Anya is only stupid today. She is going to grow into a brilliant girl regardless of what happens. It always feels so regressive seeing her be portrayed as childish and clueless even after living with a spy and attending Eden for 10+ years.

To understand why Anya is going to become smart you have to understand why she is stupid first.

(note: i am not referring to academic intellect but rather social skills, logic, reasoning and general awareness. Whether or not Anya spends the rest of her life failing maths and writing like she's having a stroke is beyond me and completely irrelevant to my point)

One of the major issues with the computer science world is AI and Data Analytics because for decades people have been pouring time and money into developing these sophisticated computers that are able to accurately emulate the human mind and intelligence to be used in automation and data processing. They’re now left with 2 issues: Big data (so much unprocessed data that has been gathered and sat uninterpreted) and human-dependent AI (AI systems that are overly reliant on human interaction they become more of a hassle than an aid). In other words the computers are very smart but they just don’t know what to do with all the information and in the end just return garbage.

Anya has a similar dilemma. She is very capable. Her mind reading abilities enable her to gather information like no other the problem is she doesn’t actually know how to use that information in a meaningful way. Throughout the manga we see her attempting (and even succeeding) to use her powers for her own advantage. But because of her age and lack of education the ways she can use her powers are limited.

Anya shows great attention to detail and clearly has good hindsight. She’s somewhat reactive but it’s obvious she still considers what impact her actions may have in the long term, she’s always trying to make the best move she just doesn’t know that many moves and her imagination is juvenile. We regular see Anya trying to gain intel on Damian so that she can use it to get closer to him and progress on plan B.

One example is with the dogs, she thinks if Damian sees she has a dog that they will have something to talk about and hopefully he’ll want to spend more time with her. The problems comes with Anya’s thinking and it hinders her approach. Rather than view it as an opportunity to find commonality she sees at a chance to impress him, and in the end it fails because Damian sees her as just trying to brag and show off rather than trying to make a genuine connection. Anya acts this way because she’s 5 and doesn’t really know how to socialize or relate to people.

In this situation she had two important pieces of information: 1) Damian has a dog that he likes and 2) Damian struggles with making friends and thinks everyone is just trying to exploit him. It’s that second part she fumbles and ends up making Damian feel even more guarded around her. She doesn’t have the fully developed emotional intelligence to understand and relate with Damian in a way that’s actually beneficial. But the thing is she can learn.

And so when you write future fics of Anya and she’s still the same erratic braggadocios little girl you’re effectively overlooking on her best traits, her awareness. Anya isn’t stupid she just doesn’t know how to be smart and that’s what makes her act so stupid.

For me, when writing future Anya, I think of all the people in her life, their specific skills and strengths and how Anya can use those to become a better more well rounded person. Specifically, Twilight and Handler. The Handler thing is more of a hc but Twilight has shown interest in Anya beyond the mission.

One of my favourite scenes is when they’re looking out the window and he asks to try and guess which person so most likely to be a spy, she assumes it’s the person who looks the strangest but he explains that a good spy is able to blend it and stand out the least. This changes Anya’s understanding of human behavior, it teaches a good trick to going unnoticed and gives her a detail to look out for when trying to find a mole/spy. It’s a small moment but it provides a lot of information that she can use later on in her life. Although nothing like that really happens again we can assume he continues to give her little tidbits of advice and information on espionage work as well as her seeing him in action (not really in a mission but just the way he operates) will teach her how to interpret situations in a way that can actually help her.

So not only does Anya have access to a lot of information, she knows the value of the information and she’s learning how to use that information. And that’s why I’m always confused when people write her in the future and she still can’t figure out that Damian likes her. ITS NOT REALISTIC.

And I’m not saying she’s gonna become all cool and suave when she grows up. I don’t think her personality is going to change much. In fact I think she’s going to deliberately avoid changing her personality, or at least her public persona. Anya will use people’s perception of her as childish and stupid to make herself less suspicious and trustworthy. (Also I don’t think she’s gonna change that much anyways bc that’s not how people work) but when thinking for her perspective she’s gonna be more aware and observant.

This rant is gotta long and it’s kinda nonsensical so I’m gonna stop here but please stop writing Anya as a stupid adult. It’s annoying and so boring.

But in the end it’s your fanfic do what you want 🥰❤️

[princessanonymous]

When Night Comes

Platonic Yandere Vampire

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First Chapter

15. 𝓐𝔀𝓪𝓴𝓮𝓷𝓮𝓭 𝓖𝓻𝓪𝓿𝓮

Time took its course. Days turned into weeks and those turned into months. (Y/n)'s outbursts became few and far between and Dorian liked to think their relationship was growing closer. She retreated less from him and talked to him more often. She was progressively starting to act more comfortably, like the little bright girl he had met in that forest all these months ago.

Dorian thought  fondly of the little moments they spent together. Her nightmares were becoming less frequent, but every time she had one, the girl came to him for comfort. They played chess and, while the vampire was still winning against the girl, she was a fast learner and was getting better at it. 

(Y/n)'s etiquette was something he was very proud of. They had gone to two other balls and the girl had behaved impeccably. Dorian had received a lot of comments about how the child acted the part of a future vampire very well; that she was a good fit to be amongst their elite society. He relished at those compliments, a proudness only a parent could feel growing in him.

Additionally, he grew more cautious, understanding he had underestimated her wits. He had ensured that she had less contact with the servant. The unfortunate events on that night could not repeat themselves. He wouldn't allow it. The vampire was however positive that they were unlikely to repeat themselves as he had had an enlightening conversation with the child. One that hopefully crushed these foolish ideas out of her head. 

· • —– ٠ ⏳ ٠ —– • ·

"I am so relieved you have given up on the silly idea of leaving, doll," Dorian had told her one night as they were both spending time together in the living room.

(Y/n) looked up, but didn't say anything. The vampire, nonchalantly engrossed in the pages of his book, continued his discourse with an air of detached sophistication. "Considering your circumstances, it's not as though you possess anything to return to," he declared, a smirk playing upon his lips, casting a shadow of cruelty. One that was necessary to educate her; she wouldn’t learn otherwise. "You have nothing to go back to. What would you do on your own ?"

She averted her eyes uncomfortably, her shoulders responding with a subtle shrug. "I don't know," she admitted in a soft whisper, her uncertainty palpable.

A chuckle escaped Dorian's lips. "Nothing," he corrected with a pointed emphasis. "But, I am here, which is why there is nothing good in leaving."

· • —– ٠ ⌛️ ٠ —– • ·

(Y/n) knew it. The child knew leaving would be fruitless and foolish. Dorian found comfort in the knowledge that she relied on him, the assurance of her presence intertwining with his sense of control over the situation. She had to understand who was the caretaker here.

Despite the apparent tranquility of their coexistence, the veneer of familial harmony in the household couldn't fully mask the palpable void that lingered within. It was as if an essential piece of their collective puzzle was conspicuously absent, leaving Dorian with an unshakable sense of incompleteness. As the days unfolded and (Y/n) became increasingly amenable to the idea of establishing connections, Dorian seized upon the opportune moment that presented itself. A subtle shift in the familial dynamic paved the way for him to contemplate the reintroduction of that elusive missing piece into their lives. He had been away long enough by now. 72 years of slumber must have taught him a lesson.

"(Y/n), dear," called out the vampire as he entered the library. He had recently bought books for the girl to read and she was spending more time in their library.

She looked up from her armchair, curiosity etched across her features. "Yes?" she inquired.

"Come with me, starshine. I have something to show you," he announced with an air of gleeful anticipation.

She straightened, tension briefly evident in the set of her shoulders, yet she followed him nonetheless, her steps echoing through the dimly lit corridor. As they approached the basement door, she edged closer to him, her unease palpable, and she hesitated for a moment, the uncertainty etched across her face. She shook her head.

"I didn't do anything," she promised with a brittle voice, her words hanging in the air like delicate glass on the verge of shattering. Her eyes pleaded for understanding. Despite the conviction in her voice, there was a vulnerability that betrayed the turmoil within.

He gave her an understanding look, his eyes softening with empathy, acknowledging her discomfort with this place. He recognized that her fear stemmed from the  anticipation of potential punishment. After all, the first time she had been allowed in that basement was to be reprimanded. However, he sought to convey that this time would be different.

"I know, dear," he reassured, his comforting touch guiding her forward. "Trust me, I merely want you to meet someone."

She trembled, a palpable shiver coursing through her frame, yet his firm grip on her trembling hand compelled her to follow him nonetheless, even if it was against her wishes. Her steps were hesitant, but they arrived at the room at the back of the corridor and Dorian used the key to unlock the door.

He turned to his child and passed a hand through her hair tenderly. "Wait here for me until I tell you to enter, starshine," he instructed. He smiled when she nodded dutifully. Dorian opened the door and closed it behind him.

The room, untouched since his last visit, held Killian in a state of slumber. Dorian approached him, placing a hand on the lifeless figure's chest. With a sigh, he declared, "I believe we are ready."

He withdrew the wooden stake, an artifact designed to neutralize their kind, and the body, once inert, sprang back to life. The vampire, now released from the temporary paralysis, slowly rose. He gasped out for breath, the sound echoing in the cold silence of the tomb as he stood up from the casket.

He scanned the room, his eyes adjusting to the muted light, and a sense of disorientation lingered. It however disappeared mere instants later when Killian's eyes shot on Dorian as he put his hands on his chest where the wound that had disappeared by now had been. Sensing an opportunity, the dark-haired vampire seized the moment. With a swift and fluid motion, he retrieved the wooden stake discarded in the earlier struggle. The blond vampire realized the imminent threat. He could feel the energy coursing through the blessed weapon, a reminder of the danger it posed. Fortunately, he sidestepped it with ease as the other had been weakened by the stasis he had been put in.

As the recently awakened vampire raised the stake for a second strike, determination etched on his features, Dorian managed to summon a surge of strength. In a swift and calculated move, he intercepted the descending weapon, his hand closing around it just inches away from his own chest. He found himself cornered against the cold wall, his back pressed against the ancient stones. The impact sent a shiver through his undead form, but the immediate danger was averted.

"Welcome back, darling," Dorian greeted, his voice a mixture of defiance and wry amusement, still struggling against the wooden stake the other was pushing dangerously close to his chest.

"Dorian," the other responded, his tone dripping with a dark edge. "You stabbed me."

He glared at the remark, his previous smiling exterior disappearing in mere seconds. "You wanted to leave," he snapped back to justify himself. "I had to do something to make you understand."

"I will leave," Killian declared adamantly. The dark-haired vampire, unmoved by Dorian's explanation, maintained his grip on the stake, the tip hovering dangerously close to the point of no return. "I will leave, and you will not stop—"

"We have a daughter," Dorian interjected hastily, his words slicing through the tension like a sudden gust of wind. 

Instantly, the other paused at the words uttered. Seizing the moment, Dorian acted with agility. The pause granted him the opportunity to disarm his adversary effortlessly. With a swift and calculated move, he deftly knocked the stake from Killian's grasp, sending it clattering across the stone floor.

"What are you on about?" The other asked with narrowed eyes, the fiery being temporarily quelled. Killian, known for his aggression, typically combined actions and words seamlessly.

There existed an unspoken agreement between the two, a delicate balance ensuring that their clashes never escalated to true harm. Dorian had, however, shattered this agreement the day he pierced his lover's chest with the blessed stake—a memory he preferred not to dwell upon. Despite such incidents, a mutual understanding persisted: they wouldn't inflict genuine harm on each other. And while the memory of the quarrel leading to Dorian’s slumber often hung wavy on his mind, he justified his action; Killian hadn’t been genuinely hurt. That had all been temporary; Dorian hadn’t done anything wrong. 

"A child. I brought in a child," the blonde reiterated, approaching his partner. Clasping both hands, he offered a smile. "Our child."

Killian's face remained closed off, his stare unyielding. "If she is anything like you, I do not wish to see this girl," he sneered coldly. "I will not raise a child with you."

He looked away for a second dissimulating the hurt he felt at that. "At least, let me introduce the both of you." Before the other could respond, he opened the door and let (Y/n) in. "This is (Y/n)," he introduced. "Doll, this is your—"

"Killian Ambrose-Hart," he introduced sharply, his eyes shining a bright red as his gaze focused on the girl. "She's human."

Dorian stepped between the two, placing an arm on his child's shoulder. With Killian having not fed for decades, the vampire was uncertain of what he might do in his current state of hunger. Who knew what he could do to the human with the hunger he must feel right now.

"She will be turned following her twelfth birthday," he declared with unwavering conviction.

Killian, outraged, furrowed his brow. "On her—you won't," he insisted, pointing accusingly.

He had known Killian wouldn't have liked that. There was a reason why children couldn't be turned before they turned twelve, after all. Following the turning, the body completely stopped aging. It was the same for the person's mind. Children turned before their twelfth birthday were called immortal children. They could not grow physically and neither could they age mentally. The immortal child would therefore lack the self control of an older vampire and become a creature only driven by hunger ; a danger for their world. A liability that was meant to be put down. Turning a child was therefore not allowed and punished by other vampires.

"I can and will," he retorted. "She will be old enough by that point and—"

(Y/n) would be turned after she reached twelve years old. At twelve, it was deemed that individuals had generally developed sufficient self-control. Though turning someone so young was rare, it was permissible. Some at that age were still too uncontrollable, but Dorian was sure it wouldn’t be the case for his fledgling. And even if it was, he wouldn’t care; the mere idea of a member of their vampiric society touching even a single strand of hair on her head would unleash the formidable force of Dorian. 

"You cannot curse her to such an existence," Killian tried to reason with him. "What will we do with an uncontrollable beast?"

Dorian would have been happy at the slip — 'We' meant that he felt involved in the child's existence — but his eyes darkened at the way he referred to her. He turned to the girl who seemed frightened by the presence of the other. "Why don't you go to your room, dear," he suggested lightly. "Killian and I are going to have a grown up conversation. Close the door behind you."

She left diligently and as she closed the door, he gave the newly awakened vampire a dangerous look. "Do not," he sneered, "call her a beast ever again. She is well-behaved, and we will ensure her safety once she is turned."

Their argument persisted through the night and into the early hours as the sun ascended in the sky. That wasn't anything new for them—Killian always rambled about how the 'curse of vampirism was something he didn't wish on anybody else'. Or how 'selfish and conniving Dorian had been to doom him to such a fate,' acting like a martyr. If anything, the older vampire should be the one complaining. Killian was too focused on making a tragedy out of his existence to care about anyone else. As always, the two only stopped when both of them had exhausted each other enough and then left it at that.

"I will go hunting," Killian declared, exasperation evident in the pinch of his nose.

"At this hour of the day?" Dorian questioned, both baffled and frustrated.

"Had you not started this complete mess, I would have been able to do so earlier," the dark-haired vampire countered.

"Oh, so all of this is my fault?" Dorian challenged. "Typical of you."

"Typical?" Killian repeated with outrage. "What do you mean, 'typical'?"

"Always trying to put the blame on someone, aren’t you, darling?" Dorian snapped back sardonically.

"Don't you try to put this on me," he threatened angrily. "This is all your doing!"

"This is ridiculous!" the blond exclaimed, flinging his hands in the air spitefully. "Utterly ridiculous; you are ridiculous!"

And like that, another session of arguing began.

[hannie-dul-set]

karma comes in the form of vehicular accidents and designer leather jackets. — [preview].

SYNOPSIS. when you’re nearly run over by a car, and said car happens to be a porsche 918 spyder, your broke ass knows better than to let this one in a million miracle slip by. 

PAIRING. shen quanrui x female! reader. GENRE. emotionally-stunted idiots to lovers, implied college! au, rich boy x not-so-rich girl trope but neither of them are normal! they’re both not well adjusted! mc is an actual scammer and ricky’s love language is throwing out exorbitant amounts of cash, romance, humor, angst if you squint but i prefer it when things are stupid, suggestive. WARNINGS. swearing, probably a number of illegal things, dubious medical practices, scamming, gold-digging, mild manipulation, a not very healthy dynamic at first but we’ll get there, more tba. WORD COUNT. teaser: 915 | full fic: est. 15-18k.

RELEASE DATE. within january, maybe. TAGLIST. send an ask/dm/reply to be added.

NOTE. hello riyangi nation i have another insanity-driven wip to offer. hopefully i go crazy again and write 4-5k a day like my last ricky longfic HAHAHHAHAH. this one has a bit more plot, a bit more seriousness, but still on the spectrum of unhinged!!! hope u enjoy.

preview under the cut.

IT’S A DOG EAT DOG WORLD OUT THERE. You’ve learned this lesson time and time again, ever since the early age of six— when your father got kicked out from his own start-up thanks to his greedy cousins, when you got in trouble for punching a classmate in first grade because he lifted up your skirt but the fucker was the grandson of your primary school’s dead, and when your high school scholarship got screwed over because “your parents unfortunately don’t support the school enough,” and you flipped off your home teacher all while calling him an ass-kissing, money-grabbing piece of shit.

Well, you were forced to transfer after that.

At least your new school didn’t base their scholarship grants on fucking PTA donations instead of grades.

From then on, you’ve learned that the only way to survive is to screw people over before getting screwed over yourself. There’s no point being nice. You can’t bother being a doormat to people who don’t even contribute a cent to your rent. You’re not wasting your smiles for people you can’t use.

Maybe it’s how you’ve grown to be so opportunistic, because the moment you and a friend were told that only one of you could get a full ride to Yonsei University— you didn’t think twice to cut him off. You stopped sharing your notes. You stopped studying together because why should you be nice to your competition? He was more well off than you anyway. His future doesn’t rely on handouts like it yours does. 

Bottomline, yes, you’re not the nicest person in the world. Sure, you screwed over some strangers opting to go to the same job interview as you by giving them the wrong directions. Maybe you cut yourself off from your parents the moment you turned legal when their debt started getting to them and they started relying on you to get out of the pitfall instead of pulling their own fucking weigh. Yes, you’re not a good person. You’re fully aware of that.

Which is why you can’t exactly say fuck you to god when karma comes to bite you in the ass via a car accident on your way to your weekend work shift.

The dead and quiet road you usually cross is now filled with noises of panic.

“Oh my god— dude! Call an ambulance!”

Your lungs hit asphalt and your head starts ringing. A pained hiss slips through gritted teeth. Something’s broken, you grunt, or at the very least not how it should be based on the sharp pain you’re feeling on the arm wedged between your body and the rough and dusty road. “Are they dead?!” you hear someone yell, followed by a car door swinging and footsteps running closer, yet your eyes remain squeezed shut from the blinding headlights and the aching of your entire body.

But it’s not the pain you’re dwelling on. No. It’s the hospital bills and the inevitable days off you’d have to take thanks to your god forsaken fucking luck.

The car should’ve just killed you on the spot.

“Are you okay?!”

However when you finally open your eyes and recognize the embodiment of your karma body slamming you into the ground in the form of a freaking Porsche, your worries suddenly get washed away into oblivion.

Holy shit, you’re fully conscious now. You’ve just hit the jackpot.

“O—oh, she’s awake, she’s awake! Gyuvin—”

Whoa.

There’s a person hovering above you. Rather, the person’s gold gilded necklace is dangling in front of your face. This is more than a jackpot. This is better that the fucking lottery.

“What—what do I do?”

“Is she responsive?!”

“U—uhm— are you okay?” Pretty boy that you assume is the one who nearly killed you is flitting his eyes in panic and is unsure with what to do with his hands. His face aside, the guy is decked out in designer clothing. You don’t miss the engravings on his jacket, the shiny glints of gold coiled around his panicked fingers. You’re not letting his chance slip away. You let out a grunt of pain and start folding into yourself. “Ahh, I don’t think she’s okay! What’s the number for 119?!”

Half acting. Half actually fucking hurting because ow. Maybe you did break something.

“I don’t know! Taerae, what’s the number for—”

“Are you two stupid?!”

Well shit. The pain stops paining because if they bring you to a hospital different from the one you have in mind, it’d be a loss for you. So you play it up even more. “A—ah, I think something’s broken,” you wince. Pretty boy drops his phone and tries helping you prop yourself up. 

“Crap. I think it’ll take too long if we call an ambulance,” says one of his companions behind him. “H—hey, do you mind if we just take you to the hospital right now?”

Now, this doesn’t sound safe. Around three men in their early twenties with very evidently no first aid experience delivering an injured woman to the hospital with what you think is a two-seater car is a recipe for disaster. You’re still on the dirty ground, arm definitely broken, with a rich guy looking like he’s about to start crying at any moment very hesitantly trying his best to help you sit up.

They’re waiting for your answer. And the answer is pretty obvious.

“Yes, please. Thank you!”

Because if you get even more injured along the way, that’ll simply be an extra bonus for you.

karma comes in the form of vehicular accidents and designer leather jackets. © hannie-dul-set, 2024.

[anaargent]

Ok but like... Five in Harry Potter PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE i know it's very unlikely but like just imagine him and his siblings in Harry Potter, with reader please 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭

You caught my favorite hyperfocuses, I wrote something simple, but I would like to go into more depth in the future.

FIVE HARGREEVES X READER

You were sitting in the shade of a large willow tree, making the most of the small moment of respite with the Hargreeves siblings. You weren’t sure when or how you had gotten pulled into their mess, but you were more than grateful for it. You smiled, watching Klaus and Ben at the edge of the lake playing with a frog, levitating it back and forth.

“This is disgusting, you idiots.” Allison threw the frog away as she pulled Viktor, who was resting his feet in the icy water, away from the mischievous siblings. “Will we have to put up with this until we grow up?”

“Don’t be so optimistic, we’ll have to live with them until the grave,” Viktor said, smiling, as he hugged his sister, who was whimpering in frustration.

Not far away, Diego and Luther were in the act of interacting with what you charitably called Luego’s fan club, a medium-sized group of girls and a few boys, who seemed enchanted by the Gryffindor bigwigs. They posed and flexed their muscles while their fans sighed in amazement "this is all natural babe, you can squeeze it" Luther said showing his biceps.

It was a funny fact, as much as the grumpy old Reginald Hargreeves was a perfect example of a Slytherin, almost all of his children went to different houses. Viktor and Ben went to Hufflepuff, they were kind souls, usually the first to offer help to their brothers and friends. Diego and Luther went to Gryffindor, the hat barely touched their heads, it was quite obvious to you that the two hotheads went to the house of the impulsive and courageous. Klaus was a stranger, after about ten minutes the hat left him in Ravenclaw, along with you to your great pleasure, there was never a dull moment with someone like Klaus around. Allison had gone to Slytherin, always standing out in the class, the girl was a perfect example of talent and discipline mixed with a rebellious and independent spirit. Finally… "There you are, I've been looking for you everywhere" Five says, pulling you out of your contemplative moment, shoving a chocolate cupcake into your hand and plopping down on the grass next to you "What are you doing here alone? Don't tell me you finally realized I'm the best of them and now you just want to hang out with me" he smirks as he looks at you.

You just laugh, shaking your head "If you were any bigger your ego would fill the common room, you know that, right?" Then you stop for a moment and take in the view. Five was still wearing his Quidditch uniform, just like you, his moss green t-shirt was worn and wet from intense training, his hair was a messy wave of strands slightly damp with sweat, giving him a wild look, which perfectly matched the playful and challenging eyes of its owner.

You sighed and shook your head, not wanting to be caught dissecting every part of Five, he already had a lot of self-confidence.

"Just watching?" Five smiles, leaning closer, his breathing still labored from the tiring workout, the light puffs of air hitting your cheeks.

You contemplate for a moment, pouting as you bite into the cupcake, Five's eyes darting between your eyes and lips, he wasn't good at disguising his intentions, maybe he wasn't even trying to "wanna taste?"

Five looks at you hopefully, his mind racing with the question - what were you trying to insinuate? "I will."

You move closer to him, your shoulders touching under the cool grass, the light wind carrying Five's scent from him and intoxicating you with the mix of moss, parchment, sweat and something that was only his. Then you place the cupcake on your parted lips and quickly stand up laughing and heading over to where Klaus and Ben were still playing with floating things "Forget this loser, come here and levitate worms on Allison" Ben waves with a cute smile at you.

"We're not done here yet, sweetie, I'll see you at the Quidditch game this Saturday," you hear Five shout in the distance, and you fight the blush that rises to your cheeks.

[ws1dee]

𝒽𝖺𝗍𝖾 𝗌𝗅𝖾𝖾𝗉𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖺𝗅𝗈𝗇𝖾﹒𝒻. 𝖼𝖺𝗍𝗍𝗈𝗇

𝓌𝖺𝗋𝗇𝗂𝗇𝗀𝗌: felix is a cheater cheater pumpkin eater lol

𝓈𝗎𝗆𝗆𝖺𝗋𝗒: you given felix all of your trust but he lets you down everytime and you finally get tired of trying to change him

𝖺/𝗇: i’ve been wanting to write something for felix ever since saltburn came out but i never got to it. tbh i actually hate this sm and it’s a bit short but it’s fine.. hopefully you guys like it!

from the beginning, you saw felix as your soulmate. however, you also saw the way he acted, having multiple girls on him at once, partying, and ghosting girls after he’s done with them. you believed that your love could change him, that it could fill the voids in his heart. felix, however, had a penchant for living in the moment, chasing thrills and indulging in temptations that often led to many missed calls and unsaved numbers. your friends warned you about felix. they warned you about the other women, the late-night disappearances, and the empty promises. but you, blinded by love, clung to the hope that he would change. you believed that if you loved him hard enough, gave him everything you had, he would see your worth and reciprocate your devotion.

days turned into weeks, and weeks into months. you spent countless hours planning romantic dinners, writing heartfelt letters, surprising felix with thoughtful gifts. you forgave his transgressions time and time again, convinced that each act of forgiveness would bring you two closer together. yet, every time you thought felix turned a new leaf, he would betray your trust once more. one evening, as the sun dipped below the horizon, painting the room with hues of orange, you were waiting outside for felix. you had asked him to meet up so you two could talk, hoping to reignite the spark between the both of you. felix arrived almost an hour late, smelling of alcohol and another girl’s perfume. your heart sank, but pushed your disappointment aside, desperate to salvage the evening.

“felix, i brought you a drink.. but it seems like you don’t need one.” you said, your voice falling to a whisper towards the end.

felix glanced at the beer you held in your hand, barely acknowledging it. “yeah, thanks.” he muttered, sliding down the wall to sit on the ground.

as you two sat in silence, your mind raced with memories of happier times and dreams of a future that seemed increasingly out of reach. you fought back tears, trying to keep your composure. you two walked back to felix’s dorm and he makes his way to his bed, absorbed in his phone, ignoring your attempts to engage in conversation. late that night, as you laid in your bed alone, you realized that your love for felix became a burden. you had lost yourself in the quest to win his love, sacrificing her own happiness for felix, someone who could never truly appreciate you. so you made a decision, when you saw him the next day, you decided that it was over.

“it’s over, felix. i deserve better than this.” you said simply, trying not to show any emotion.

felix just looked you up and down and scoffed. so now, you were moving on while felix continued his reckless ways, never realizing what he lost. it was only years later, when you both were a bit older, when he found himself alone looking back on his life. he understood the depths of your love and the magnitude of his mistakes. by then, it was too late.

[xas24]

papi ~ pedri

summary: pedri and y/n as young parents.

pedri and y/n didn’t expect to have a child on the way at just the age of 19. they were both still so young, so adventurous - they both had their whole lives ahead of them. pedris career was rising by the day and there wasn’t a second to waste.

of course, pedri never really thought of it that way - a baby wouldn’t waste their time - he more or less thought of it as an opportunity for the two of them to get closer. as a way for their relationship to strengthen with a new piece of each of them, a symbol of their love.

he often had those little thoughts about his future, his kids, his family. how his kids would go to his games with his wife. how he would love to dedicate his goals to them. how he would come home after a long morning of training to his adorable family.

and in almost all of those fantasies, he saw y/n. she was his past, his present, and hopefully his future too. there was no doubt he loved her endlessly, and a baby wouldn’t have been too bad. they were young, but more than capable of having and raising a child.

pedri had reassured her of that factor as they sat on their bedroom floor, concerned and anxious for what was to come. he had reassured her that he made enough to provide for them both, they already lived together so he would try to spend as much time with her as possible throughout the pregnancy.

but y/n wasn’t worried about the financial problems or the lonely moments at home. she was terrified for their relationship. would the pregnancy cause a strain in their relationship? would it bring them closer or tear them apart?

it was clear that pedri and y/n both had different views on this unexpected pregnancy. it was a talk that they both needed to have, desperately, which is exactly what they did. they confided in eachother on their bedroom floor, for hours on end.

they spoke about the negatives. the positives. the effects. the hardships. the stress. the money. the time dedicated. the necessities.

eventually the talk turned into something every new couple entering parenthood talked about; the gender of their baby, the names they loved, who would spoil them more, who would love them the most, whose sibling would be more attached to them, whose name they would say first.

the somber looks turned into smiles and giggles, comforting eachother, creating a loving atmosphere around them just as any other healthy couple would’ve done.

•••

that was all a little over a year ago. currently, y/n sat with her little baby girl, mía, facing her on her lap as she played with her small hands. she was now almost 7 months old and absolutely adored pedri.

the chatter of the stadium surrounded the two, the bright lights cascading down on them as the sun painted the sky in a gorgeous mix of orange and pink. the usual hot weather had now chilled, blowing a light breeze through the air.

y/n sat with mikky, frenkie’s girlfriend, as they, along with everybody else, waited for the game to start. y/n thought of mikky as an older sister, being five years older, the latter always looked out for the youngest wag but most importantly she was always there for her, even through her pregnancy. she helped her a lot mentally and emotionally, at times when even pedri had no clue what to do.

she also adored mía, as much as her own parents. she loved taking her away from pedri and y/n sometimes, going shopping with the two girls and spoiling the little one the most.

“mía.” mikky called out to the little one, her finger coming down on her chin, giving it a little tug. mías big brown eyes went from her moms to her aunt mikky, her small lips upturning into a smile at her excited expression.

“¿estás emocionada de que papi juegue?” (are you excited for daddy to play?)

mía only understood one word from that sentence, the one word she’d started saying a few weeks ago and said it non-stop everyday.

“¡papi!” she exclaimed in happiness at the mention of pedri. she was utterly in awe with her father, loved watching him kick around the football in their backyard, loved cuddling up to him on movie nights, loved sitting on his lap wherever they went, loved falling asleep on his chest.

it was as if y/n didn’t even exist when it was just her and her dad; pedri and y/n found that absolutely adorable. she was such a daddy’s girl, she wasn’t even a whole year old yet but her dad was the centre of her universe.

pedri often teased y/n for that. he loved kissing and cuddling with his baby infront of y/n, showing her who their daughter loves the most. y/n often just playfully rolled her eyes, giving pedri a small slap on his arm before cuddling up with the two loves of her life.

“¡sí, papi!” mikky replied, giving mía a tap on her nose and watching as she slightly scrunched it up as a giggle left her mouth. y/n watched the whole encounter with a loving smile plastered on her lips.

her hands held her daughter up on her lap, her little body dressed in the blaugrana jersey with pedris signature number 8 on the back and her name. it was a gift from mikky and frenkie when mía was born, a little big at the time, but now it fit her perfectly and she loved wearing it, loving how she matched with her dad and mom, and practically the rest of the stadium.

when she was born, she seemed to have lots of pedris features along with y/n’s lips. however, as she grew older each month, she started to grow more into her moms features. she had y/n’s long eyelashes, her gorgeous small nose, the chubby cheeks she also had when she was a baby, the same hair colour.

it was ironic how much she looked like her mom, yet completely adored and loved her dad.

mikky noticed the players starting to walk out onto the pitch and she let out a gasp, pointing to the centre as mía curiously followed her finger.

“¡mira!” (look!)

mías tiny hands came up to her mouth when she saw all the boys on the pitch, the expression something she caught onto whilst watching youtube videos. a toothless grin sat on her lips as her brown eyes scanned the grass, looking for her papa.

y/n turned her around on her lap so she could see better. she pointed towards pedri and when mía found what her mother was pointing at, she let out the biggest giggle ever.

“¡papiiii!” she clapped her hands together in excitement.

“sí, bebé, es tu papi.” y/n whispered into her ear, laying a kiss on her chubby cheek, loving the happy and cheery mood her baby was in to watch her dad. pedri took a few seconds to look for his two girls in the stands. when his eyes landed on them both, he gave a smile, waving at them. his grin widened when he saw his little girl trying to stand up in her mothers lap and give him the biggest wave ever.

y/n blew him a kiss which he returned before moving to go stand with his teammates. mía sat back against her mother with a big sigh, as if standing uneasily for five seconds was a huge task for her.

“¿cansanda, mi amor?” (tired, my love?) she whispered into her ear, earning a short babble to which she had no idea the meaning of.

once the game started, mía calmed down a bit. however, her little eyes couldn’t keep up with everything that was happening, she kept losing sight of pedri and she didn’t like how hot it started getting in this crowded area.

at that, she started becoming clingy. she kept turning around on y/n’s lap, touching her hair, grabbing at the strap of her bag. even after y/n put on her favourite youtube videos on her phone for her to watch, mía wasn’t interested. she sat on mikkys lap for a bit, babbling all sorts to her aunt, staring at a few other people sat around them, fiddling with her aunts jewellery before she became fussy again.

y/n took her once more and put her head against her shoulder. perhaps she was just sleepy, it was quite later in the day and she usually falls asleep at this time. y/n cradled her small head onto her shoulder, rubbing soothing circles against her jersey-clad back, whispering sweet nothings into her ear to calm her down.

with how loud it was in the stadium, mía did not care. she could fall asleep anywhere, loud or quiet, probably due to the amount of games y/n went to whilst pregnant, which is why she had the confidence that she could also fall asleep here in her arms; maybe just for a bit to refuel her energy.

in no time mía was sound asleep against her mothers shoulder, peacefully snoring away into her neck. y/n made small conversation with mikky throughout the whole game, talking about anything and everything that came to their minds whilst also keeping an eye on the quiet, sleeping baby in her hold.

the game had finally came to an end, mía having slept through most of it. y/n knew pedri would be coming out in a little bit, after showering and talking with his teammates, so she stayed behind with mikky and a few of the other wags whilst the rest of the stadium started gradually emptying out.

mía, now sensing the change in atmosphere and the low chatter of the people around her, started stirring around in her mothers arms. her little hand came up to rub at her eye as she lifted her head from the snug position on y/n’s shoulder.

she came face to face with her mom and her aunt, confused because that was exactly what she saw before falling asleep. with a pout on her chapped lips and with red cheeks, she turned her head to see the once packed stadium now slightly empty with no players on the pitch.

“ah, buenos días princesa.” (good morning princess.) mikky joked as she smiled at a sleepy looking mía. y/n laughed at her baffled expression, her hand coming up to tame her messy, disheveled hair and rub away the drool on her chin. she looked like she’d just woken up from the best nap of her little life.

“y/n, deberíamos ir ahora. saldrán en cualquier momento.” (we should be going now. they will be coming out at any minute.) mikky told her as she smoothed down her shirt, placing her bag back around her shoulder. y/n nodded and soon they were walking towards the car park, knowing pedri would meet her there.

they had just made it to pedris car when y/n felt mía wiggle in her arms, her raspy voice calling out to her favourite person. “papaaa.”

they both turned to see pedri walking over with a big smile on his face. frenkie, gavi and ferran were not too far behind him, but mías eyes were only on her papi.

her arms started reaching out towards him before he was even halfway there and pedri chuckled at her eagerness, taking her into his arms when he reached the two.

“ay mi niña hermosa. ¿cómo estás?” (oh my beautiful little girl, how are you?) he asked as he pressed lots of little kisses all around her face, his arms caging her in against his freshly showered body.

he only got a babble and a cheery “papi!” in return. her little arms went around his neck as much as they could, her giggling lips meeting his cheek as she pressed a kiss to his skin, or atleast attempted to plant a kiss. he laughed whilst she snuggled into his neck, getting comfortable with his familiar warmth and smell.

pedri leaned forward as he pulled y/n towards him too, his free arm wrapped around her waist and he leaned in for a kiss. she complied, pulling away after a few moments and running a hand over mías back.

“buen juego.” (great game.) she whispered to him, a smile on her face at his awed expression.

“gracias. ¿la señorita mía durmió durante todo esto?” (thank you. did miss mía sleep through it all?) he joked as he went back to stroking her hair, his heart warming at how she cuddled more into him.

“sí, estaba muy quisquillosa, así que pensé que sería mejor si se iba a dormir un rato.” (yes, she was being very fussy so i thought it would be best if she went to sleep for a little.)

“ah vale vale.” (okay okay.)

“mía!” the two turned to see ferran and gavi walking towards them with big grins on their faces. mía, at the sound of her name, lifted her head from pedris shoulder and found her two uncles running towards her.

she slightly screamed in happiness when gavi pinched her cheek and ferran leaned forward to give her a small kiss on the other. she smiled up at her uncles, her hands clapping together once gavi started squishing her chubby cheeks together.

“ay, que linda.” (how cute) ferran stated as he saw the little one trying to push pablos hand away, wrapping her whole fist around his one finger.

y/n and mikky shared a short goodbye as frenkie sat in the car, sharing his goodbyes from the open window. pedri and y/n lowly engaged in conversation whilst mía giggled and messed around with the two players. a few minutes later, they were bidding the little baby farewell with little kisses on her forehead. she gave them each a tiny wave as they walked off after saying goodbye to y/n and pedri too.

“vamos a casa, ¿sí?” (let’s go home, yeah?) he nodded towards the car, his voice tired and drained. y/n nodded and went to sit down as pedri put mía in her car seat. she did fuss around again, whining about wanting to be in her dads arms for a little longer but pedri only shook his head as he promised her he’d cuddle with her at home. after giving her his phone to watch youtube on, he shut the door and went to the drivers side.

¿cómo llega pablo a casa? ¿deberíamos dejarlo?” (how is pablo getting home? should we drop him off?) y/n asked as pedri started the car.

“no, ferran lo llevara a casa.” (ferran will take him home today.)

“vale.” (okay.)

with that, pedri drove back home with his two favourite girls in his car. his hand held his girlfriends warmer one, his heart content and his body relaxed as the loud sound of mía’s favourite youtube channel sounded from the back.

[capricornlevi]

(wc 759)

"you're gonna make me look good?"

jean's question is delivered with that annoying crooked smile, his jersey hugging tight across his chest as he stands with his hands clasped behind his back. he arches an eyebrow expectantly as you fiddle with the camera, trying to fix the settings that seem to have adjusted themselves without your knowledge.

as captain of the soccer team, he's the last player whose picture you need to capture for the college yearbook, and also as the captain, he brings with him an exceptionally smug but annoyingly charming aura that threatens to penetrate your stony resolve.

no, you force yourself to keep a straight face, it's bad enough that you got roped into this gig for free as a favour to your professor, you don't need to start stretching out these interactions any longer.

at that, you set the camera back on the tripod and lean closer, making sure the framing is right.

"okay, smile?" you say, halfway between an instruction and a question.

"i am smiling," he retorts instantly.

"smile ... i don't know, properly."

he winces with mock offence, screwing up whatever hope you had of getting the picture in one shot and finishing up for the day.

"properly?" he queries incredulously.

you sigh, closing your eyes so you don't roll them.

"professionally, then. formally. whatever what you want to do it."

"not open to me doing a silly one?"

"i'll give you one guess on that."

in the viewfinder you see jean's face twist back into that now-familiar smile, eyes crinkling at the corners, the light brown of his hair contrasting again the royal blue of the drape behind him.

(the hall of the gym isn't the best place to set up an impromptu photo studio, but you found an old team flag bundled up in a supply cupboard that made for a decent background)

"okay, okay, i'll be professional. showing my leadership qualities, and so on."

"great," you say flatly, focusing the camera.

"really demonstrating my abilities to represent the school."

"sounds good."

"recording this moment for future generations to come, a piece of living history--"

"do you ever stop talking?"

your interruption was intended to throw him off his tangent, hopefully to buy enough time for you to actually get the picture, but all it does is make him throw his head back with a laugh.

"i can if you want me to."

"if you wouldn't mind," you mumble, feeling a slight pang of guilt at how hard you came in when he's clearly just trying to lighten the mood.

still, you've been here since seven this morning -- soccer practice is early early, you've discovered -- and all you want in the world is to make your way home to collapse back into bed.

"ok, i'll shut up for a minute. if you can answer something for me first."

you take a steadying breath, temper starting to simmer. "what is it?"

"can you actually tell me if i look good?"

against all odds, he shocks you out of your sullen silence.

you pull away from focusing at the camera display to stare wordlessly at jean, the seriousness of the question still pinging around in your head.

he's flirting, obviously, but the question was delivered with sincerity.

"meaning?" you ask. no harm in clarifying, plus you're not entirely sure if he's looking for an ego boost or just asking whether his jersey is too wrinkled or his hair out of place.

"do i look good?"

you swallow thickly, avoiding the temptation to give him a once over. "you look fine."

"fine won't make the history books," he objects; again, with a hint of earnestness that you could find amusing in another setting.

"whatever. you look good, then."

"hair okay?"

"it's a mullet, so --"

he clutches his chest as if wounded, fully grinning now. "no cheap shots at the mullet while I'm in such a vulnerable position, im begging you."

again, your curiosity forces you to engage.

"vulnerable how?"

still smiling, eyes fixed on you, he answers.

"well, talking to a pretty girl, for one thing. secondly, pretty sure she's sworn off soccer players for good after this morning, so ... uphill battle, and all that. plus ive had a crush on her since she was selected as photographer for the championship final last year, so even more's at stake, y'know."

you pause. no words leave you, nothing even resembling a response. you're sure your mouth has actually dropped open.

brow arched again, jean tilts his head forward expectantly.

"aren't you gonna take the picture?"

[halcyonwrld]

— FOR YOU

PAIRING. Lisa Manoban x Reader

To her credit, she doesn’t back down when she shows up at your home, blood dripping past her fingers, barely even standing on her own two feet. But you both know she’s not here to be saved. She just needed to see you. (2K)

NOWPLAYING. Risk - Deftones

TAGS. mafia!au, injury, blood, lisa's subconscious is a lovergirl till the very bitter end, exes to… hopefully lovers in the future? 😭

You’re the first one she thinks of.

There’s a burn in her hands from the recoil of all of the shooting. Her legs are shaking from the adrenaline kicking through her veins, from the fear she isn’t supposed to feel tonight. The wind is cold and the streets are empty; she hasn’t felt so exposed in a long time.

Her breathing comes staccato, body weight too heavy, eyes too tired.

Lisa dips into alleyways, keeps a cautious eye around every corner. It is a minute after she’s stopped running that she realizes that she’s even shaking. Not from the cold. But something much worse. Too bitter and lonely for her to put a name to it.

The entire way her gloved hand remains glued to the rushed bandage on her side, and you’re all that’s on her mind.

Not her right hand —Jennie— devoted to a fault (considering she puts up with all of Lisa’s bullshit daily), left chattering into a stomped earpiece blocks away. Not the flock of assistance she called for and narrowly avoided on her way out. Not her best; Rose, Jisoo.

The safehouse was closer. Just a phone call away, really. It was such an obvious choice, but nothing really made sense. Mind too scattered from the rush of it all. Legs moving without thought. Her lungs were wheezing for air by the time she realized she was over a few blocks away, police sirens wailing in the distance.

It wouldn’t make sense if she had to explain herself to anyone else. She knew it wouldn’t, because it didn’t even make sense to her.

She just needed to see you.

Lisa feels so lightheaded and lost she’s nearly sick by the time she reaches your doorstep. Said door is actually unlocked, and she needs a moment to catch what’s left of her breath before she can actually make a move to head inside.

The house is well-lit, but quiet. Warm air envelops her in its tidal wave. Suffocating and dizzying. Lisa closes the door behind herself, confused at the dead atmosphere, but pleased by the lack of disarray around the home.

You step into the hall, phone held between your shoulder and cheek, hands busy holding a laundry basket full of folded clothes. “Finally,” you murmur into the device. You give her a once over, a hint of a frown on your lips that sends a heavy rush of shame through Lisa’s trembling body. “Yeah, okay. No worries.”

You let the phone drop into the basket and turn on your heel, silently telling her to follow you.

Lisa’s heart rattles against her ribcage. It’s so quiet that it’s all she can hear. The hallway sways like a mirage, but she bears it. After all, you’ve been waiting. She doesn’t know how. But you’ve been expecting her. “You…” her words die out as she steps into the livingroom. She might topple over if she tries to juggle speaking and walking right now.

Your shoulders deflate a little as you place the basket next to the couch. Looking up at her through your lashes with another one of those weary looks that makes her bones ache.

“The girls said you might be headed over here,” you murmur, answering her unspoken question.

She presses her hip against the couch as you search for something off to the side, stabilizing herself carefully since you’re not looking.

“You didn’t get any blood on the welcome mat, right?” you ask conversationally, voice too stiff for it to come off as anything but upset.

Lisa shakes her head slowly, unable to speak, breathing too harshly. It’s been so long since she’s seen you. Been in your home. She's barely survived this long without you.

You hum, but Lisa sees the way your hands shake as you grab your phone from the pile of clothes. Guilt eats away at her poor heart, and it hurts more than any physical wound. Maybe this— coming here was a mistake.

Pocketing the device, you place a first aid kit you got from who the hell knows where at the end of the couch.

Another glance, another frown as you take in her state. Lisa is sure she looks like absolute shit, and she can’t blame you for your barely disguised grimace.

“The girls say you’re ridiculously stupid by the way, among other things. I’m inclined to agree with them at this point.”

You stand up quickly, an overwhelming blur in her eyes.

Lisa steps toward you like she’s been pulled by a string, awkward, stumbling, legs unable to hold her weight any longer. The room stops spinning when you catch her by her waist, hands the perfect fit she’s always known them to be.

“Shit, how the hell are you even still standing?” you grumble, nearly vexed. She’s home, but she’s not welcome. “Here.” You guide her by her shoulders, settle her on the couch like you would a child, patient and gentle and everything she used to know you for.

Everything she wanted to protect. Felt like she couldn’t.

Fuck, she feels faint.

You’re so close, legs astride her own, eyes the bright light at the end of the tunnel. An angel in front of her very eyes.

“I’m sorry,” she murmurs, pursing her lips as you expose the gunshot wound that could’ve practically grazed her waist. A clean shot.

With an annoyed shake of your head, all you do is huff through your nostrils in silent retort as you get to work on cleaning the wound efficiently, hands in her peripheral working in the methodical way she’s always admired.

Lisa grabs your shoulder without thinking, barely wincing at the pain that ripples up her body when she leans forward. It’s not the focus; you’re not understanding, or, she’s hoping you aren’t. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking.”

You look down at her, brows pinched together. Golden light from the desk lamp falls onto your side profile. Makes you hazy. She blinks back tears to hold your gaze, flexing her jaw in an attempt to not give in to the knot in her throat.

“Okay, Lisa,” you say, voice softening as you gently force her again to settle back. “You’re lucky this didn’t hit anything important, you better hope you haven't lost too much blood."

Lisa doesn’t know quite what to say to that. Her silence leaves the room devastatingly quiet. It should be more concerning, that she hasn’t thought twice about her haggard state besides the obvious harder-than-usual navigation in places she doesn’t belong. But it doesn’t.

Things like that haven’t bothered her since she left you.

She ditches her gloves off to her side with little care, knowing you know how to dispose of them best. Lisa did teach you after all.

You reach for a half-empty bottle of water resting on the end table she hadn't noticed before. Crimson stains your hands from the crude bandage she’d wrapped earlier, and suddenly Lisa’s aware of how cold she is, almost numb with it.

The drink helps a little, at least with her dizziness.

For that fleeting moment, you watch her, face unreadable.

Lisa feels something spark in the pit of her stomach as she swallows, but you look away far too quickly for her to pinpoint it.

“Why now?” you ask.

She bites back a scream as you brush her wound, fisting the cushions as you murmur a hasty apology. “D- didn’t mean to,” she echoes her thoughts, feeling a bit like a broken record, unsure how to say it without making things worse.

You scoff, rolling your eyes as she tries to breathe through the sting. “We’ve established that.”

“No I-” She winces as you begin to wrap her wound, forcing herself to stay still. “I should’ve never left you.”

Selfish, selfish, selfish, some wicked voice murmurs in the back of her mind.

Lashes flutter rapidly in the corner of her eye and the pause you give lets her know you’re fighting back tears. Everything aches. You let out a long, heavy sigh that Lisa feels in her gut. “But you did anyway,” you force out.

Lisa’s heart plummets. The emotion that threatens to consume her could be enough to kill her on its own.

“Just wanted to protect you,” she whispers. A bead of sweat trickles down her temple as she squeezes her eyes shut, really just trying not to vomit up the words. “Thought you’d be better off. You’re too good for this life.”

“Says you,” you scoff as you begin to finish up, much less angry than earlier. Lisa doesn’t dare to open her eyes. She scrunches her nose instead, thinking. “You’re just- you’re stubborn. Would’ve talked me out of it.”

You pause again. Lisa holds her breath, knowing she’s just said the wrong thing, wholeheartedly expecting fingers to dig into her wound.

You don't.

“I loved you, and you left me,” you murmur instead, and it feels a hell of a lot worse.

She hears it all. Hears you asking, why couldn’t you let me selfish for once too?

Her eyes snap open as her stomach drops. She barely notices how you shift on top of her, pulling away again. “Y- you did?” Lisa stammers, feeling lightheaded with happiness, blood loss, and confusion all the same.

“Of course I did,” you say, scanning her face like you’ve got all the time in the world. As if she wasn’t just bleeding out on your couch, like things were normal again. You’re still so perfect, even after all these months and months of trying to get over you, Lisa can't stop the thoughts. She could really kiss you right now. You’re so warm on top of her, so close.

She wets her lips, looks at yours. Everything feels zoomed in. “Do you still?”

You sigh and shake your head, visibly fed up with the route this conversation has taken as you shuffle back. Panic spikes in her body as she finally registers you moving away.

“You need to eat something,” you switch the subject quite bluntly, pursing your lips in thought, “and likely rest, knowing you.”

She latches on to your shirt. You can easily move away with how weak her grip is, but you pause, frozen under her grip. The word hopeful isn’t anywhere near powerful enough for how Lisa feels after noticing that. “Say it,” she mumbles, pleading but praying you won’t. “Tell me you don’t.”

You frown, avoiding her gaze. “Lisa-”

“Please, Y/n.” She’s begging. Delirious with fear and longing. Her voice doesn’t sound like her own. “I’ll leave after this if you want. You can call one of the girls and- and tell them to pick me up, and I’ll never show my face again.” Lisa swallows a deep breath, lets her fingers press into you, and absorbs the warmth she’s been missing for so long. “I’ll… I’ll disappear from your life completely, okay? For good this time,” her voice drops to a mere whisper. “I promise.”

You turn your head reluctantly, scanning her face for any signs of deceit. Lisa hopes you won’t find any. Hopes you feel her vulnerability and how earnest it is. Because she’s the most truthful she’s been in a while. You’ve always made her weak like that, and she’s found out too late that she needs that. Needs you to be there for her when she needs to soften. Needs to know she can fall back into you when she’s losing herself in the rush.

“I-” You break the silence. Lisa feels her heart stop as you look away again, almost….. shy. “Yes, I still love you.”

You pinch your brows together in the way you do sometimes when you’re thinking. Lisa waits for the regret of confessing to take over your cadence. She waits and she waits, but it never comes, and she swears her relief is palpable.

She allows herself to breathe as you stand.

Mutely, you scoop up her gloves and her bloodied tee to dispose of, quietly contemplating.

“I can stay?” she asks, testing her luck, watching you with starry eyes.

You roll your eyes as you round the couch, putting yourself out of her line of sight. “If you shut up,” you grumble, distracted as you are flustered. Lisa smiles. You’ve extended an olive branch, a way in. This is a second chance and she knows it's her last, but she’s not worried. Not at all.

“Y/n?”

She hears your footsteps stop.

“I love you too.”

You walk away without another word, but Lisa has hope.