#because sadly i am a business major

[angelisverba]

achilles heel

in which y/n gets herself into another precarious situation and wants her dealer to help her, and harry can’t help but feel conflicted about how much he wants her

read part one here

word count: 14k

pairing: plug!h and y/n

warning: bad trip! peer pressure, drug coercion, drugs, mentions of bullying, sexual content!

author’s note: there aren’t any facts to back up the use of any kind of sexual enhancers, so much of this experience is improvised and not actually something that would happen irl in terms of science. love you! 

Two slow, torturously long weeks pass- one in which he was out of business entirely trying to stock his inventory up again- before he hears from her again. In the middle of the night, it’s beginning to become a pattern for them. He only hopes that this time, it’s not for an asshole group of people.

His bohemian dream of a room is upturned, messy, as he’s been a grump about not seeing her. There’s shirts strewn everywhere, his bed is a rumpled mess and he wishes that it were because he had sex in it instead of restlessly sleeping. He’s coming out of the shower with a white towel low on his hips. There are clouds of thick steam coming out from his open bathroom door and while a majority is from the hot water he hoped would soothe his tense body, there's a bit of thicker, headier smoke from the skinny spliff he hotboxed while in the tub. 

And it hadn’t worked for shit. Because he was still cranky, still restless. His fingers were itching to do something, and if he hadn’t just smoked weed, he would be in his garage, throwing around weights like a madman to try and get himself tired. Sadly, he wasn’t even fucking horny, so jerking off wasn’t an option. 

Sidestepping his sweatpants by the edge of his bed, Harry grips the thick of the fabric at his crotch and reaches for a pair of clean underwear from a drawer at his bedside table, furrows his eyebrows at the box of condoms stashed in there, and pull on white boxers. He throws the towel at the end of his bed and lays back with his arms splayed wide, sighing dramatically. He felt deeply sorry for himself. 

Y/n was probably never going to talk to him again because the last few times they had seen each other, Harry was a complete dick to her, acting every bit like the asshole drug dealer that had a criminal reputation. God, the girl was probably scared of him. He fucked his all-

Ping!

This phone went off with a notification. The same tone he had assigned her, and Harry’s body lurched off the bed. His arms swept the expanse of his bed, ruffling his duvet in search of the device. 

Ping!

It went off again, and the urgency in which he was searching increased. Where the fuck was his-

He found it when it thunked onto the floor, and with shaking hands, he unlocked it. 

Y/n: Hi, Harry! 

Are you available for delivery at the moment?

Of course he is. Always, for her. But he didn’t type that back, obviously. He had to be cool.

Harry: I am. What can I get you?

The gray dots appear instantly, and he gets another text shortly after. 

Y/n: Do you have any brownies?

He had been to a frat party earlier in the day in which a group of senior guys had taken some pot brownies off his hands. Before confirming with her, he double-checks his inventory on the notes app folder  he has just to keep track of stock. 

Harry: I have half a dozen left tonight

Should he have added a smiley face? No, that would have been creepy right?.... 

Y/n: Perfect :D ! I’ll take five, please! 

Harry: No problem. Can I have the address, please?

She sends it not even a minute later. All concerns regarding driving a vehicle while high unethically fly out of his mind because honestly, he wasn’t even high anymore. Not even feeling it. She was only twenty minutes away, ten if he didn’t pay attention to laws.

Harry: I’m On my way! 

Y/n: See you soon!

Yeah, fuck the laws.

***

He makes it in 8 minutes. 

And something about this house doesn’t feel right. 

He didn’t realize it until the houses started looking nice and the parked cars on the side of the street started getting more expensive than the address she had provided him with was one on the wealthier side of town. He knew of a guy that lived here who everyone talked about because his method of acquiring money was sketchier than Harry’s, and well… that said a lot given that Harry sold drugs for a living.

The end of the driveway that he parks on is wide enough to be a two-way street. One of the lights flickered on by the motion sensor as Harry took his helmet out and shook his hair back. In his rush to get here, he hadn’t put on a shirt, and with his leather jacket left unzipped, his tattoos were on full display. The moonlight gleamed on the ridges of his abdomen, casting shadows across the markings on his skin. He was warm despite the chill in the air, and the cool drift of the night wind on his muscles was a welcome feeling. 

Harry just didn’t realize how… devilish he looked. He appeared every bit the bad boy ready to sweep you off your feet in the summer, and the serious expression on his face added to the mystery. Wondering if this time she was able to hear his motorcycle from deep inside wherever she was in that mansion of the house, Harry kicked his stand down, hung his helmet on the handlebar, and took his phone out to let her know he was here.

Harry: I’m outside

Grey bubbles pop-up, squiggling like a little wave. And then…

Y/n: Be right there!

All of the breath in his lungs vacates his chest, and he gets warmer than he already was. Pacing the short lengths of his motorcycle, he wonders how he may get more nervous to see her every time he sees her. He never used to be this way, not even with a girl he wanted to talk up at a bar. There was a confidence within him, this shine that sprouted from knowing that he knew he was the shit, and he was going to use that to his advantage, to make a girl blush and stutter. Instead, she was the one to turn him inside out. He forgot all about basic manners around her. He forgot how to smile without questioning if his smile was wonky. He thought-

“Hi, Harry!”

He thought she looked so fucking sexy tonight. 

Coming from the front door, y/n is a wispy, gauzy mirage. Her feet are wobbly, and there’s a glass tumbler in her hand with a toothpick-skewered olive. She’s smiling so brightly at him, and this unrestricted happiness at his appearance alarms him. Where is the timid girl who speaks to him with a voice barely above a whisper? She must be drunk he thinks. 

An itchy feeling he can’t shake off overcomes him because the girl is wearing a lacy slip dress that is so sheer, he can see her pink undergarments underneath. A white cardigan slides off her shoulders and hangs on to her elbow like a satin bow slipping loosely from a gift. He can’t decide if he wants to tie her back up or unravel her. 

She runs the last few steps to him, and either she miscalculates her stop, or trips on a pebble because suddenly, she’s in his arms and he’s holding her upright. And he’s also breathing heavily because a rush of blood has made its way down to his cock and he knows she can see it pressing through his jeans and against her belly if the way her eyes go round is any indication. 

Her drink slips from her hand, and shatters at their feet. The loud scattering of glass makes her jump, and an apology is clumsily stumbling from her mouth while she tries to pull herself from his embrace. Harry, however, tightens his hold. His fingers squeeze at her waist, and through the lace of her dress, he can feel the overlapping fabric of her panties. Without saying anything, he lifts her and takes a few steps to the side before setting her down away from the hazard. 

“What-” her brows furrow, and her head tilts to the side. She isn’t rushing out of his arms now.

Interrupting her, Harry explains, “y’were about to step on the glass.” 

“Oh,” y/n is back to whispering as her eyes travel all over his face, “thank you.”

With her in his arms, Harry has forgotten how to act. His mind is blank as a sheet of paper, and his lungs are expanding and contracting but oxygen isn’t really reaching him because he smells something sweet combined with alcohol on her warm breath. He sees how y/n’s facial expressions resemble that of a guppy fish, and he realizes that maybe he should let her go but he can’t because… because her fingers are shifting around his arms and she’s kind of shifting her weight and writhing and Harry still has a fucking boner so this is all-

He steps back, observing her shiver, and clears his throat. “Of course. Are you…are you cold?”

“Cold?” she asks. Her voice is silvery like the incantation of a church bell and he wants to fall to his knees are revere her, to beg for forgiveness, for her to cleanse him of all his sins. The night air has turned him into some kind of animal, he decides. The moon has transformed him into the hungry, howling wolf who will only be silenced by knowing her in the most carnal way. Meeting under the blanket of darkness has decided their fate. 

“You’re shivering,” he states, voices unwavering and factual. That confidence he was missing before has somehow found its way back. Like tectonic plates, the tension has shifted in his favor. Harry gathers the courage to fix the cardigan on her shoulders. 

His hands graze the cool skin of her biceps, and he doesn’t miss the way she textures with evidence of her intimidation. The way her breath stops altogether and he mumbles under his breath, “Just fixing y’up, darling. Y’can breathe, m’not gonna bite,” and she drops her arms at her side to let him help her, and then…

He feels the thin, sharp glide of her fingernails at his sternum. How can a single touch be so erotic? His jeans are too tight over his bulge, and fighting a groan, he exhales deeply, looking up at her to find her eyes droopy, staring at his butterfly tattoo. Her mouth moves around the shape of pretty before her eyes flicker up at him. They both freeze. Prey and predator, caught before the deadly pounce. 

But y/n breaks their eye contact. 

Harry drags the fabric up so it sits properly on her shoulders, and slides his fingers down to the front, so he can begin with the first button. His fingers drag unnecessarily like syrup on the skin right above her slip, and her audible gulp along with her choked, thank you check him back into his manners. She might have toyed with him, albeit unknowingly, but he welcomed it. He doubted that she was 100% sure if she wanted that reciprocated, so he stopped. As much as it hurt him to do so, he stopped.

At the last button, he reluctantly steps back, “All done, don’t want to get sick now, do you?” 

And he manages a smile. It’s small, with just a bit of a cocky gap between his lips to white teeth. His hands slip into his front pockets, pulling his jeans forward subtly to give his dick some breathing room. He feels branded where she touched him, that sliver of skin hot with burning desire. Visions of them together flash behind his eyes like bits of a dream he’s trying hard to remember.

“You’re right,” she mumbles, “thank you.” Y/n wraps her arm around herself and can't seem to make eye contact with him.

The rational side of him that’s drowning in his tunnel vision reminds him that he’s there to do something (deliver drugs), so he moves around to the compartment and pulls out the paper bag. This time, it’s decorated in a field of smiling, dancing daisies sprouting from the bottom of the bag. “Here are your brownies,” giving her the bag, he laments that he’s going to have to leave her soon. 

“How much do I owe you?” Y/n blinks up at him like she’s just barely waking up. Like she’s trying hard to stay focused, just like him. But that would be silly, Harry thinks, because there’s no way they share the same feelings. She only touched him because she’s drunk, or tipsy, and he’s just a drug dealer, and no matter how much of a boner he has for her, his dreams of rutting over her like a dog in heat aren’t going to come true. She’s too delicate for him.

He feels shitty taking money from her, but that is his livelihood, and chances were the douchebags buying from her probably threw more money at her than necessary given how rich they were. So, he tells her the total, and he hands him- just like he expected- crisp bills.

“Thank you,” he says, taking the money from her and shoving it into his compartment. His legs make no move to straddle his bike, even though that’s what his brain tells them to do. They’re not really listening to him though. And y/n stands them holding the bag, staring at the shattered glass and worrying her lip between her teeth. She’s not in any rush to get back inside, so Harry asks her a question- something that’s been on his mind ever since he left her the last time- to keep her out a little longer, “h-how was it? Last time, I mean. Smoking with those people?”

The girl straightens at the memory, suddenly energized. “Oh! I didn’t actually do it. They tried to get me to, but I didn’t in the end.” 

Jerking his chin towards the bag in her hand, “Do y’plan on eating some of these?” 

Y/n shakes her head, “Not really, I have work tomorrow. So does everyone else but,” she shrugs, pursing her lips a little and looks over her shoulder at the house. The relatively quiet house. “I already drank a little more than I should have.” 

“I see.” Nodding, he’s left with no other choice but to reach for his helmet to put it back on. It’s time to leave. For the life of him, he can’t seem to figure out why such a sweet girl would continue to choose to hang out with people like this. Who drink and do drugs recklessly. He was concerned for her safety, and he made a mental note to ask Mitch about it. He wasn’t anyone to tell her what to do. 

He wishes he were, but he wasn’t. 

“Well, be safe, okay? Let me know if you need anything.”

“Thank you, Harry. I’ll see you,” and she waves at him with a small, shy smile. The cardigan is already slipping off her shoulder even though it was buttoned up, and she turns around to walk back into the house.

Harry’s finally gotten to dozing off when his phone rings. 

Blindly, he slaps his hand around and curses whoever is on the other end of the line for interrupting his maladaptive dreaming about y/n. He got home grumpy, slamming doors behind him and stomping around his own home. Feeling sorry for himself, he had turned on his Sade playlist and allowed her smoky voice to lull him to sleep. Creases had decorated the space between his thick brows, his pink lips literally turned upside down and occasionally he mumbled curse words at himself. In effort to relieve his own stress, he turned on a lavender candle, and it burned dimly on his bedside. 

“Yeah?” He rasps sleepily into the phone, annoyance dripping from his voice. 

There’s a couple of sniffles on the other end. This gets his attention, his eyes snapping open as his ears strain to listen, and then, “H-Harry?” 

Was he still dreaming? Harry bolted upright from his bed, dragging a hand over his face. Was that actually y/n’s weepy, crying voice leaking through his speaker? He recognized the normally sweet voice, but instead of shy and timid, it was shaky and sad… maybe even a little panicked. 

“Y/n?” Harry asked, spiking up in volume as a million-and-one scenario of her in danger played out in his mind. “What’s wrong?” 

She hiccuped, “I-I was- Everyone was- They gave me a piece and said I should- But I didn’t want to and they- I don’t-” The poor girl was making no sense, and couldn’t seem to keep track of her thoughts, whether it be because she was too frazzled, or her irregular sobs stole the rest of her sentences and she would start new. The fact that he has just woken up, remnants of sleep leaving him more and more by the second, didn’t help either. He had to get her to calm down somehow. 

“Sweetheart,” He interjected, repeating the endearment twice before she stopped talking long enough for him to get his word in. “ Listen to me… Take a deep breath, listen to my voice.” 

Y/n made a long, keening noise, and something stirred his gut like the whirls of dark waters in turbulent seas. This wasn’t normal. She wasn’t herself, which only left one thing, “I’m trying but my skin feels weird and-” 

She was having a bad trip. 

Those fuckers have coerced her into taking something, whether it be the brownies he sold her, or some other drugs they had in the house. Y/n had taken drugs against her will, and she was stuck in a place where she didn’t feel entirely comfortable with anyone there because these were the same people that bullied her at her workplace. The situation she was in, and the simple fact that they did not respect when she said no made his blood boil. He felt like a caged cat, pacing back and forth, tail swiping low on the ground. 

But his next thought cowed him.

If the drugs she had consumed were his brownies, did that mean he was partially to blame? He was responsible for there being something to press on her, to begin with, wasn’t he? He delivered them into her hands, which she then transferred to her party, and they turned it around on her. Harry was at the start of all of this. 

He sat up, and ran his hand through his hair, swallowing back the sour taste that started at the back of his mouth and twisted his chest. Pushing all of it aside, he focused on her, “I know darling, I know. Close y’eyes. S’gonna be okay, y/n. Close your eyes.”

Rough, uneven breaths reverberated through his speaker, and he realized she was trying to calm herself. Harry wanted to scream and punch something. This is his fault. She was having a bad trip because of him. There were times when he was feeling generous and upped the milligram ingredient in his pastries, and he can’t remember if he did that this time but regardless, he doesn’t think he’s ever felt he’s ever felt this guilty. He could have said no, when she texted him. Or not respond at all. But he was selfish and wanted to see her. This is where his selfishness got him.

“M’kay.” She responds a little more sure, but it isn’t enough for him. He started this mess, now he has to fix it. He gets out of bed again, in such a rush that his duvet ends up strewn on the floor, and he reaches to tug his recklessly discarded jeans over his long legs. He yanks a burgundy knit sweater that he finds- also on the floor- but he’s not cold. He’s sweating with anxiety, and the sweater was just for her benefit. What if y/n is cold again? Harry has to be better not, he can’t fuck up with her anymore like this. He was going to take it off again as soon as he saw her and be shirtless again with his leather jacket. 

 With the device pressed between his shoulder and ear, he buttoned up his pants and shoves his feet into the first pair of shoes he found, “Y’got your eyes closed f’me?”

“Yes, Harry,” she whimpers again, sounding so unsure, so small, and fuck, the crack down the middle of his heart grows. Closing your eyes while high was scary, especially if you were having a bad trip, Harry knows that having a handful of negative experiences himself, but it was the one thing he could think of right now. To get her to focus on his voice rather than anything going on around her. Wherever she was. 

“Good girl. Now just listen to me, okay,” walking out of his room, he swiped his keys off his kitchen counter, and snagged his leather jacket from -surprise, surprise- off the floor right before entering the garage, “Where are you right now?”

“I’m… I think I’m in a bathroom,” y/n peeps a response. 

“Alright, good. Good, sweetheart. Now how much did you take?” Putting the jacket on, Harry turns the key in the ignition and straddles his bike. He presses the button he keeps on his keys for the garage door, and walks his bike out. The street lamps in his neighborhood are on, illuminating patches of the concrete like polka dots. 

There’s some noise in the background. It sounds like knocking and the call of her name. “M’not sure… maybe… maybe half? They’re knocking on the door, Harry.” 

She’s so scared. For the first time, he realizes that she doesn’t trust anyone there. That’s why she was calling him. If there was, she would be resting her head in their lap, and talking things out with them. That’s what you do when you’re high. And this was her first fucking time doing any kind of drug? They made her take more than what she was supposed to. 

“All at once? Don’t listen to them, sweetheart, focus on me.” This time, the timbre of his voice is livid. He didn’t take kindly to these kinds of things, and he was going to find some way to get back at all of them. 

“Yeah, I took a bite only but Alana said I would be a party pooper if I didn’t eat more, so I did because everyone was watching.” There’s more noise, yelling. The knocking gets louder.

“Fuck!” Slapping his hand against his helmet, Harry tilts his head back and wills himself to calm down. He couldn’t drive like this. 

She gasps, startled, “Did I do something wrong? Oh my God, am I going to die? Harry, am I-”

“Shh, no. No, y/n. Everything is going to be fine. I’m on my way, okay. Everything is going to be fine. Can you set a timer for eight minutes on your phone, and walk outside when it rings?” He nears the end of his driveway, shaking his head at his lack of restraint. He had to hold it together for her.

“Yeah,” she responds.

“Perfect, I’ll be right there. I’m coming to get you, okay?” He’s firm in his delivery, so she doesn’t have any reason to doubt him. 

“Okay…” her single-word answer drags out, and he waits for her to say more. “Do you have to hang up?”

“I do, darling. My motorcycle helmet doesn’t have a Bluetooth mouthpiece, so I won’t be able to hear you. It’s only eight minutes, I promise.” He decides not to pay attention to how easily the endearment terms are rolling off his tongue, and to the sure-ness in his sternum that was missing at the start of their meetings. 

“Alright. Bye, Harry.” 

He doesn’t say bye, because it isn’t one. “I’ll see you in a little bit.” 

***

On his five (FIVE!!!) minute drive to y/n, full of felonies and annoyed car horns, Harry decides two things. One, owning a motorcycle is probably the best decision he’s ever made because it allows him to do things like this, and two, he’s come to the conclusion that he no longer cares for social formalities, and he’s going to… honor his cravings as long as y/n lets him. He knows that the moment he gets there, he’s going to want to coddle her, tug her to his side, and hide her inside his jacket as much as he could, like a bear with food in the winter. Besides, it wouldn’t be so bad to provide the feeling of safety if she needed it. In fact, he was eager to. He decides that just for today, it’s okay. 

Because he gets there three minutes earlier than the time he told her, so even though he doesn’t have to, he rushes to park his bike, swinging off of it before it’s even rolled to a complete stop and jogging up the long driveway to wait by some bushes near the window. He was partially obscured from the front door, and he wanted to stay that way in case Y/n wasn’t the first person to walk out. 

Sweat coated the back of his neck while the rest of him was ice cold. Looking each and every way, he took off his jacket and slipped off the knit sweater to slip it over her head as soon as he could. Harry listened intently, the ragged sound of his own breathing filling his ears as he tried to pick up on any noise that might indicate trouble, but all he heard was faint chattering and the occasional bout of loud, loopy chortles. 

Momentarily after, those voices get louder, some of them aggressive, and there are sounds of movement. The heavy pattern of feet moving quickly, the scratch of furniture on the floor. Someone- a female- is asking where someone is going, and Harry knows it’s y/n. Running to the door, he makes it just as it swings open, and a very red-eyed y/n stands there, one hand on the door with her eyes on the floor. She’s mumbling, something over and over, and he thinks one of those words is his name. 

He’s reaching out to encase her in his arms when she blinks a few times, slowly, like she's just waking up, and her eyes are dragging up her body to register his face. 

Tilting her head to the side confusedly, she steps out, closes the door behind her, and mumbles, “Harry’s waiting for me.” 

His heart melts and he feels the bursting of a thousand suns in his chest. Smiling down at her invertebrate state, with his eyes softening and a gentle caramel-like baritone streaming through the rough in his voice, “I’m here, darling. Come with me.” 

Poor thing is so out of it, her eyes start to water, her chin trembling and her shoulders beginning to shake with the rattles of oncoming sobs. Had he spooked her? Her eyes were puffy and hooded, but he knows that doesn’t mean she can���t see him. Y/n is probably just overwhelmed, he thinks. She’s out in the dark and cold, high, and he’s a tall, scary figure looming over her. Voices inside are getting closer, their sentences running over each other so that he can’t really understand what they’re saying, only that they sound upset. 

Ignoring the rumble that is bound to get to them, Harry kneels down to her level and takes hold of her cold trembling hands in his large ones, bringing them to his chest to get her to focus on him, “lovie, s’me,” he pleads for her to recognize him, “I’m Harry, I came f’you like I said I would, y/n.” 

“Y/n!” A man inside, short and skinny but snooty looking with a sharp, shark-like face stalks towards them. His parade of three- two blonde girls and a dark-haired guy- follow behind him. They all have glasses in their hands. One of them had a cigarette. “What are you doing?”

At the sound of her name, y/n’s eyes shut tightly, and her chest rises quickly with sharp breaths that escape her mouth. Dropping her head, a long whine seeps away from her like a sticky substance, and Harry wants to wipe it all away. He’s not sure why he’s reacting this way, or what he should do to help her, because he’s had bad trips but they’ve all been hallucinogen-based.

“Baby-” 

“Y/n” the asshole with the dark hair calls her name so arrogantly, Harry can’t help but wonder what they’re like sober, “who is that? Will you come back inside? We’re about to start playing pass-blow.” 

They’ve interrupted him twice now, and with every second that passes, he gets huffier. Frustrated. Angry. Because he’s just trying to talk to this angel and they’re overwhelming her. Y/n is whimpering now, her hands moist in his, and she’s sniffling every few seconds. 

“Y/n,” he tries again to get her to look at him, to say something. He doesn’t want to act inappropriately, and with her consent already being disregarded once tonight, he’s doing everything in his power to get her to speak what she wants. 

With glassy eyes, y/n dazedly stared at him for a moment. Her expression was stuck between confusion and sadness, her lips downturned and her brows furrowed, “Wanna leave, H.” 

Harry nodded at her, “Okay, we can leave.” Then he stood up and grabbed the sweater over his shoulder, “Put this on first, lovie. It’s cold.” Slipping it over her head and helping her stick her arms through, he tugged it all the way down, near to her knees, all the while ignoring the group that started and whispered behind her. When he was done, he pulled her under his arm and walked in the direction of his bike. 

All of two seconds passed before an agitating, grating voice interrupted them, “Hey! Where do you think you’re going?” 

Harry can’t take it anymore. Placing his hand at the back of her head to cup her to his chest while he turns around to spit out a response at this douchebag, he takes deep breaths and tries to focus on her comfort. He tries to focus on the warmth of her breath against his chest and the way one hand is wrapped around his wrist, her fingers drawing loose circles on the tender skin, and the other is clutching his shirt tightly. But he feels that he has to say something, in some weird ‘marking my territory’ kind of way.

“Fuck off, asshole! You’re not getting shit from me anymore,” Y/n jumps in his arms at the tone and volume of his voice, and the wimp shrinks back, too. He mumbles something about it ‘not being fair’ like a whiny child and turns around. Harry gently removes her hand from his wrist so he can wrap it around her shoulders, and starts walking down the pathway back to his motorcycle, whispering, “C’mon baby, walk with me. Do you want me to take you somewhere? I can call an Uber? Sarah’s house? We can go back to my place, too. Y’name it, love, I’ll do it for you.” 

“Okay.” If she’s surprised at his sudden softening, she doesn’t show it. Hell, she’s probably too out of it to do anything but appreciate anyone that is considerate to her current state, given that she was hanging around assholes who were making fun of her while she was having a bad trip. 

They reach his bike, and Harry guides her by her shoulders to sit with her butt on the side of his seat. He crouches down in front of her, and wraps his hand on the back of her shins, grasping firmly to give her some kind of sensation to ground herself on. The loopy look in her eye that was there when he first arrived has drifted away like mist in a breeze, and she’s looking at him a bit more clearly. 

“You still doing okay?” He asks, trying to catch her eyes but y/n is fiddling with her fingers and looks a little… frustrated? “Y/n? Can you tell me what you want to do, love?”

“M’sorry,” Her lower lip wobbles and there’s a small tremble in her chin. Her eyes, when she finally finds his, are watery, and it makes Harry’s heart pinch. He wants to hold her until she’s okay. “I know we don’t know each other that well, but can we... go back to your place?”

He rises then and cups her face in his hands to ensure that she’s looking at him. A little voice in his head is telling him that he’s being too touchy and needs to tone it down, but y/n can’t seem to keep her hands off him. His elbows are warmed through his jacket by her nimble fingers. 

Cooing at her almost, “Hey, s’kay. Y/n okay. No crying, alright? I’m happy that I could be here to help you, okay? Of course, we can go back to my place, as long as you’re cool with it. Are you comfortable riding on my motorcycle right now? I can order an uber if you aren’t.”

 “Yeah. Yeah, I think so.” Nodding, she sniffles and looks into his eyes finally. They sparkle underneath the light, like stars are trapped in her pupils, and the sight takes his breath away. She’s still whispering, but it’s no longer as panicked and short. It might just be the brownies wearing off, or her high calming down. 

“Right, then.” Before letting go of her sweet face, he swipes his thumbs along the apples of her cheeks in a soothing motion. He walks around to the back of his bike and unlocks the compartment to take out a spare helmet. Holding it up, he gestures for her to tilt her head towards him, “safety first.” 

“Your eyes are pretty. Like that thing that makes Superman weak.”  

“Kryptonite, baby?” He secures the helmet on her head and makes sure it fits by tilting her head this way and that to check for wiggle room. When he’s satisfied, he raises the glass panel and murmurs, “and yours are prettier than mine.”

“Mhm,” she blinks blearily up at him, and his heart expands three times its size in his chest.  “And you really think so?” 

“I know so.” They share a small smile, and Harry’s nose is pink from the cold and the warmth of her gaze. He swings a leg over to straddle his bike, and scoots forward to make space for her, and pats the seat behind him.  “Come sit behind me, love.” 

Y/n grabs the hand that he holds out for her, and clumsily takes the seat. 

“Now hold on to me. Hands around my waist,” There’s a strange pitch in his voice, and he has to clear his throat before speaking. Y/n listens to every word he says and places her hands on his waist so lightly, they might as well not even be there. The touch, as innocent as it might be, makes him squirm, and to hide it, he grabs them, and brings them around so she can splash her own fingers at his belly button. “Tighter, sweetheart. I don’t want you to slip off. If you don’t want to see, you can press your face into my neck, okay.” 

“Okay,” she peeps. Harry pats her hands and turns his key in the ignition. 

“Ready?” With his ankle, he kicks the stand up, and looks over his shoulder to check in on her. The muscles in his stomach are doing a strange tightening and flexing because they don’t know how to act normally under her touch.

“Yes.” 

She squeezes her arms tightly around his waist, and she can feel her face pressing into his back as he starts his engine to take her home.

*** 

“Who were those people?” 

It seemed as though removing her from the situation (Harry hates even thinking about the word because it wasn’t a situation, it was a fucking catastrophe that the poor little thing had to go through what she did) had been the best thing to do. From the looks of it, y/n was having a pretty normal high now, asking him if he had anything to snack on that was sweet and tart because she was hungry and her mouth was dry. 

He kept himself well stocked on berries and fruit for this exact reason, so while he stood at the aisle in the middle of his kitchen cutting strawberries into nifty little hearts and tossing them into a bowl with freshly rinsed raspberries and blueberries, y/n sat on the barstool, watching him and humming a little tune. She was much different from the way she had been fifteen minutes ago, when they had just walked into his house, blubbering about how she was so sorry that he was losing sleep because of her, and how she still didn’t feel right. It took ten minutes of holding her in his lap on the couch (he still felt overly warm at having her so close to him),  shushing and cooing at her, letting her know that everything was alright while stroking her hair, and another three before she stopped crying, and let him know he had a nice voice that tickled her spine and that she had the munchies. 

Not that she called them that, of course. Harry doesn’t think she had ever heard the term, given how she knows fuck all about drugs and being high, just said “I’m hungry, h. Do you have anything tart and sweet? It feels like there’s a dragon in my belly.” 

So he chucked, rubbed her back as he slipped her onto the spot next to him, and let her know that he had just the thing, and that he would be right back. But that didn’t stop her from trailing behind him like a duckling imprinted on her new human, pitter-pattering all over his tiled floor.

He hopes that she doesn’t feel like he’s prying, because while he was curious to know what compelled her to keep that kind of company, he wanted to know anything about her. This just seemed like a good segway into her. 

Y/n is bobbing her head side to side to keep time with the cat clock he has up on the wall. She’s matching pace with its swinging tail, and clicking her tongue every second, pausing only briefly to say, “my co-workers,” in a chipper tone. 

Casually, he hums, “The ones that bully you?”

“Yeah!” She’s quick to respond, and quick to realize what she confirmed. Meaning she also realized Harry knew something she had never told him about, and this confuses her. Snapping her head away from the clock, he watches as her shoulders droop and she takes in what he said. The gears were turning clearly on her face, when finally, she spits out her question warily, “Hey… how’d you know that?”

Harry froze mid-strawberry heart. He couldn’t exactly say that he had been asking Mitch about her, and that had told her about her relationship with everyone at work because then that would make him seem more like a creep and less like a love-struck infatuated fool,  but he also didn’t want to lie to her completely. He had to stick with a little white lie,  “umm, Sarah mentioned something about observing shitty things happening at work, and she mentioned your name.”

“Oh,” y/n’s lips form a little pout, “Are you mad?” When those words come out of her mouth, the possibility of him seemingly being mad at her starts overwhelming her senses, and she starts sputtering again, “I’m sorry- I’m just- I feel off, I-I shouldn’t have eaten that brownie. I’m sorry. You probably think I’m a wimp.”

With sympathetically pursed lips, Harry shakes his head and gently soothes her worries, “I’m not mad. Y’just having a bad trip, sweetheart. It happens sometimes, even to me. When you’re not in a comfortable environment, it happens.” He finishes with the final strawberry slice, and slides the bowl across the way for her, “this is for you, should help with the munchies. Want some water?” 

“Please and thank you,” she mumbles around a bite of pink fruit. Sliding a glass across the table, Harry stands across the island to watch her. Y/n hand one hand wrapped around the small bowl, and the other holds fruit to her pouty red lips, swollen by the assault of her teeth. A trail of juice glistens down the side of her finger, and he watches, transfixed, as a pink tongue flicks out to lap up the mess in one, two, or three, tiny licks. A thick glob of saliva collects at the back of his throat because she's moaning, too. Little satisfied hums of pleasure and barely audible sounds of suction don’t escape him. 

Blood rushes to the center of him, tenting his pants and he has to go somewhere because fuck she might see it if he has to get close to her. 

Clearing his throat, Harry averts his eyes and tries to find somewhere else to set his eyes. Anywhere else because it’s so easy to picture his the ruddy mushroomed head of his cock pressed against her mouth like the tip of the strawberry heart, glistening with the moisture of precum and strings of her saliva as she wipes away his mess with her tongue like an eager little puppy. 

What was wrong with him? She needed his help, and had turned to him when she needed him. She had already had people pouncing on her, she didn’t need someone else chasing her skirts. 

“S’good, Harry,” y/n gulped down the last few pieces, and Harry blinked. Hard. “Can I have some more?”

There was a wide, lazy feline smile on her mouth. She looked… hazy. A bit sweaty. Disheveled.  Y/n looked freshly fucked, and stray drops of fruit around her mouth were making it so incredible hard for him to breathe, “no more lovie,” he managed to say, “or you’ll get a stomachache.” 

“Okay, H,” y/n yawned, unfazed by his rejection. Unaware of how crazy Harry was about her right now. His composure was fraying by the second. His mind played visions of them together like little prophecies, his tongue licking a stripe across the side of her face as he pounded her from behind so hard her eyes teared up. Her nails left little marks on his back from where she tried to grab leverage to bounce faster in his lap. Her skin dipping where Harry pawed at her to bring back against his dick. Fuck, he had to go into the restroom and tuck his boner into his pants. 

“Sleepy?” He rasped, voice trembling, eyes glued to her glassy doe eyes, “come, I’ll show you to your bed.” It was easier to be quiet and gentle with her. A calm version of him meant a restrained version of him. Clean as opposed to filthy. Good instead of bad. 

Her bed was really his bed. In his hurry to angle himself in such a way that she won’t see his raging erection, she forgets the state of disarray his bedroom is in. He walks slowly so he can hear the pitter-patter of her feet trailing after him, and stops at his door. Opening it, he inwardly cringes at everything inside. Blankets strewn all over the expanse of his mattress. Untucked and unaligned. One of his pillows on the floor instead of on the bed, and a rolling tray with crumbles of weed and baked mango bits on his bedside table. 

Harry rushed to that first, not wanting her to see anything else related to drugs. So much for a first impression. What a way to enforce the bum-drug dealer stereotype. 

“Promise m’not this messy,” he grumbles, picking up loose t-shirts and sweaters off the floor as he goes to turn on the lamp (swipe the tray away before she has a chance to see it), “it was a rough night. Was having a hard time sleeping.” 

Y/n squeaks behind him and he turns. She’s still standing by the doorway, “t-this is your bed?” 

Oh, God, she hates it. Harry starts swiping blankets off the bed to remake it for her. What was thinking, giving the sweet girl a messy bed?.“Yeah. I know it’s a little messy but I promise the mattress is comfortable. I bought it last year because I was having back problems a-”

“Where will you sleep?”

He starts tucking cover on the edges of his mattress, trying to be quick about it so she can see it’ll be neat for her. “On the couch, lovie.” 

“B-but… this is your bed?” y/n poses it like a question, but Harry can hear the guilt in her voice because she would be taking his bed. 

“I know that,” smiling softly at her, he shakes out and fluffs the pillows. “But I want you to sleep here instead. It’s much better than the couch.” 

“Are you sure?” Her fingers tangle at her navel.m

He nods and tucks the used blanket under his arm to take to the couch with him. “More than, sweetheart,” Looking at her attire, he pulls open his drawer and grabs some items for him and a few for her, “want to change into something else or is that okay for you? Can give you a sweater or a t-shirt.” 

Eyes lighting up at the large black shirt, y/n reaches out and points to it, “Can I have a shirt, please?” 

“When you ask so nicely, how can I say no?” Harry doesn’t mean for it to come out the way it does. But it happens, low and gravelly like the drag of a big cat’s tail on a cave floor. He sees the way her cheeks burn with his effect, and his cock throbs in his pants. He needs to get out of the room.  “There’s a restroom down the hall if you have to go, and an extra toothbrush in the cabinet. I’m gonna sleep right outside, so let me know if you need anything, okay?”

Y/n nods, “Okay.” 

The moment he closes the door slightly behind him, his hand clutches his ground, shifting it sideways so he’s not pressing up against the zipper. 

It was going to be a long night. 

***

Harry wakes up to the sound of mewling. 

Which is strange because he doesn’t own a cat, and high-pitched whimpering sounds are coming from… his bedroom? They’re muffled because his door is half closed. Rubbing the sleep out of his eyes- if you can even call it that, he was tossing and turning because he couldn’t focus on sleeping knowing the object of his main thoughts is only a few strides away- Harry swings his feet off the side of the couch and pushes off with his knuckles. The sweatpants he had on dragged down low on his hips, the slant of his Adonis belt, and the thin skin right above the base of his cock visible. Sleepily, he tugged them higher and pressed the door open to check in on y/n.

And he felt his heart stop in his chest at what he saw.

Y/n was writhing in his bed, the sheet tangled between her legs and she was naked. Her face was flushed with tears, her chest choked up with sobs she was trying to keep down by biting on his pillow. Her hair was wild from her erratic movements caused by… well Harry didn’t know what. 

He rushed to her side, “Y/n! Y/n, baby.” 

A gasp wrenched itself from her chest, eyes were blown wide so that he could see how red they were, swollen at the waterline. She yelped like just his touch hurt him, and after removing his hands to ease her pain, Harry frantically ran his gaze all over her body, looking for anywhere she might be hurt. To see if maybe she had had some kind of reaction to the drugs she had taken. 

“What is it, love? Talk to me,” he whispers, not wanting to scare her even more. His thick brows are furrowed heavily, eyes heavy with concern and a touch of sleep. He had never felt so helpless before, at a loss for what to do. He wanted to cradle her close to his chest and rock her sweetly until her crying stopped. 

Y/n keened, whiny and long, “I’m sorry, Harry.” 

“Why are you sorry, lovie? Tell me what’s wrong so I can make it all okay,” he rubs a hand across her head, featherlight but enough to brush the hair away so he could see her clearly. She turned to him, following his touch with her nose like an animal searching for the warmth of touch, and then curled deeper into herself, hands clutching at her navel, “do we have to go to the hospital, y/n?”

“I was hungry, H,” y/n shuts her eyes tightly and gulps a breath of air, “but you said no more.. and there were brownies in the drawer.” 

Harry rubs her back, transfixed by y/n’s bizarre actions as she moans at his touch. Cocking his head to the side, he mumbles what she said, “brownies in the…” 

Realization dawned on in. 

No, no, no, no. Looking at the bedside table that previously housed his rolling tray, it now was covered with two, blood-red pieces of crumpled foil crumbs of chocolate dotted around the trash. The words Kitty-kat Brat in a sensual, curly font stamped on the side. A script of warning on the side said that each partner should only consume a fourth of the brownie every hour as desired and that after consumption, the effect would only be sated by the exhaustion of endorphins. And at the top, in a glitter color: aphrodisiac. 

Y/n had consumed two aphrodisiacs that Harry kept for himself on the occasion that a partner might want to experiment with them. The poor girl was hurting because she was… so fucking horny. 

“Oh, lovie,” Harry sighed and rubbed a hand over his face. What the fuck was he going to do? Leave her? No, he couldn’t do that when… when her pussy was weeping for attention. Call someone else to help? When help meant she would get fucked so hard she’d be cock-dumb? Absolutely not. But also, Harry didn’t feel right touching her when she was clearly under another influence. And if he didn’t feel right doing it himself, why the fuck would he let someone else do it? With a curled knuckle, he hooks her chin and forces her to look at him,  “can you tell me exactly what it is you’re feeling? S’okay, don’t be embarrassed.” 

Y/n shuts her eyes and tries to yank her chin away, but Harry tightens his grip, pinching the sides of her mouth so she can’t move, “can’t do that, H.” 

It’s laughable really, he thinks. How whiny she’s being when her actions are the reason she was in this position. He had told her no more, and did she listen to him? No. In fact, she went looking through his drawers and ate his brownies, which he did not give permission for her to do. 

If there was one thing that got him riled up, it was girls who didn’t listen and then cried at the consequences of their own actions. 

He chuckled at her, even though he was surprised at the change in his feelings about the situation, but he couldn’t find it in him to care anymore. Here he was, thinking she was this innocent little thing. And she eats his fucking sex brownies. Shaking his head, he taps her cheek with his finger to get her to pay attention to him, “I need to know what’s happening so I can find some way to help. Aren’t you hurting, baby?”

Keening, back arching off the bed, she cries, “So badly, Harry. My… pussy hurts. I’ve already cum so many times but nothing I do is working!” Blood rushes to his dick at the lewd confession. How long she has been in here with her fingers rubbing her cunt with him just outside the door. Muffling her moans so he doesn’t hear them. The thought makes him groan internally. “It doesn’t feel right.” 

His voice is low and gravelly, filled with a hunger that was kindling in his loins in preparation to spread like wildfire. “What doesn’t feel right?” He asked. 

“Me doing it myself,” she swallows wetly, and her hand comes up to grip his wrist, Her thighs are chafed from how urgently she keeps rubbing them together, and through the lace of her bralette he can see how hard her nipples are. The glassy look in her eyes isn’t just from tears, it’s a reflection of how deep her need goes.  “I-I… I want someone else to do it. I want you to do it.” 

Little crescents of broken skin are left in her wake, and he lets her. The sting of pain is keeping him centered at the moment. The sound of her harsh breathing, rustling of the mattress springs from all her movement, and the bursts of circling motion at her hips are testing him. He wants to squeeze the tip of his dick to alleviate some of the aches that are settling there. “You want me to do what, sweet thing?” 

 “I want you to help me, H. Please?” Blinking at him blearily, y/n pouts. She was begging him. 

Crooning to her with a condescending pout of his own, Harry cups the side of her face and runs a thumb under her eyes were tears have started falling once more, “help you what? Use your words.” 

Y/n huffs and sobs, her heels sliding against the mattress, “help me cum! Please, I can’t take it anymore.” 

“Tsk, tsk, tsk. Look at me, y/n. I said look at me,” he shakes her by the grip he has on her face gently to get her to snap out of the whining and whimpering. Needing her eyes on him so that he could read her, he asks “Are you sure about this?” 

“Yes, yes. I am. Please do something.” 

“Ask nicely.” 

The girl is back to mewling, taking the hand on her face and moving it down to her legs so that Harry would get the hint, “please touch me, H.” 

Y/n pulls him down onto the bed by his hand, and Harry lets her tug at him until he’s sitting down next to her before he pulls out of her grip and grabs both of her hands in one. Placing them above her head, he looks at her pointedly, eyes dark, so she doesn’t move her hands from where he leaves them. Big hands splayed wide across her trailed down the sides of her waist and stopped at her hips, rubbing gentle circles, “Open y’legs, don’t be shy now. M’just gonna help, and I need to see what I’m working with.” 

Briefly, she mumbles some kind of complaint, the remnants of any modesty making themselves known, but Harry wasn’t having any of it. He waited, glaring at her almost, until she allowed her thighs to fall open freely, and he hummed low at the back of his throat. Sliding his palms up the inside of her thigh, he began to talk to her in a tone that many didn’t get to hear, “want my fingers, lovie? Or my mouth? Don’t think you deserve my cock for being naughty and touching something that wasn’t yours. Only good girls get my cock.” 

“Everything, H. I’m sorry, won’t do it again. Give me anything you want,” y/n weeps, her hands in a fist above her head digging into the pillow that is halfway out of its case from all her moving around. 

“Think I’ll pet y’weepy cunt first, hmm? How does that sound?” Harry bites back a moan and feels the tip of his dick rubbing against the inside of his sweatpants. Reaching down to adjust himself doesn’t seem like a priority when his girl is beneath him with her legs wide open and pleas are falling from her lips for him to touch her. The inside of her thighs are irritated, the black gusset of her thin underwear stained white with the cream of her pussy. He wants to press his nose against her and lick her clean. His mouth is watering for him to do something of the sort but instead, he hooks her underwear aside and… 

And his own hips buck forward against his will. She’s so slick, it's running down the seam of her ass and onto his bedsheets. Drops of her creamy cut sit on the edge of her hole, accumulated from her previous orgasms. Y/n twists uncomfortably and pants. Harry, wanting to hear her cries again, smears her cum with two fingers around her entrance, and slides them into her pussy. 

“Perfe- oh, God.” She clenches around him, and he can feel that spongy place brush against the tip of his finger the second before she starts twitching from an orgasm. Her mouth drops open in a silent scream and her head tilts back into the mattress. Harry smirks as she cums from one touch, and his own jaw drops at the amount of moisture that comes out of her, dripping onto his knuckles. 

Guiding her through it, Harry continues moving his fingers at a steady pace, bringing his thumb up to the hood of her mound to press against her clit, “Oh, y’poor thing. Just a touch and y’already gushing on m’hand? Thought I was gonna have to try for it. Y’cum this easy for everyone, lovie, or jus’ me?” He leans over her with a hand braced beside her head and whispers into her ear,  “how ‘bout I work f’the next one?” 

Ripples of need were running down his spine and to his groin but he focused all of his energy into paying attention to what made her react the most. Listening for the hitch in her breath. He dragged his fingers out slowly, curling them on the inside of her wall as he did so where was persistent pressure leading up to her g-spot, and y/n made an animalistic noise mixed between a whine and cry. His tongue lolled against the side of her ear, the skin hot and flushed from the heat of her body. Harry nipped the tender flesh of her neck and waited to hear her yelp to soothe the sting with his tongue. Kissing his way down to her throat, he presses his fingers into her as far as they go and runs circles around her clit while keeping steady pressure on the bundle of nerves inside of her. He’s rubbing her inside and outside, slowly, slowly, and then starts picking up the pace. 

Y/n is mewling, her tits in the air as her back lifts up in a hold.  Her moans are becoming louder, her pussy tightening around his fingers and he knows she’s going to orgasm again. He’s mumbling how good she is being for him against the side of her breast, his nose holding back the flimsy lace as he leaves the plush skin and fights the urge to cant his hips into the bed like a dog in heat. He feels hot everywhere, like the heat turned on by itself in his room, and when y/n’s fingers curl into his hair and pull as she cums again and screams his name he can’t find it in him to reprimand her. Harry just talks her through it. 

“Good girl, y/n. Y’being so good for me. Think you can give me another, lovie? Because I want one more. Y’gonna give me one more, okay?” Cooing at the way she digs her head back into the pillows and shakes her head, Harry increases his rhythm so that the muscles in his bicep flex with every move. She’s still spasming around him from the orgasm she’s riding, but he doesn’t let it end, “ah, you’re so cute, saying no but this little cunt is weeping yes. Who am I to deny her, hmm?” 

She’s adamantly shaking her head no, eyes lulling shut and her mouth slacks with a cry, “too much… too much, h. Sensitive, please-”

“Weren’t you begging for it earlier, y/n? M’only giving you what you asked for,”  Harry thinks he could cum just from watching her body tense with unyielding pleasure. Her eyes are rolling into the back of her head and Harry is back to fucking her fast and hard with his fingers while licking and sucking on her nipple, “that’s it. That’s it right there isn’t it, baby? Abusing y’special spot so it’s too much for you, hmm?” 

He’s muffled against her skin and the sound of her wet pussy being penetrated by his fingers is so filthy, his own eyes roll into the back of his head. He takes a deep breath and smells the sex on her, the tanginess of her juices zinging his tastebuds, and god he has to taste her. 

“Yes, yes, please, Harry,” y/n is anguished, heels set firmly so she can meet his hand halfway, and she's so erratic he can’t focus on anything else but the furious pace she’s set. 

“Gonna cum, baby?” Harry groans, moving one of his legs so one of hers is in between his, and the movement of her shin against his crotch makes him pant. Every muscle is tense with a restraint that is slowly melting away. With every rub of her against him- she’s doing it unknowingly, and he’s rutting against her- he’s closer to spurting in his sweatpants. 

“Mhm,” her affirmation drags out into breathless gasps as the weak squeeze unclenches and clenches all over again as another orgasm rolls through her. 

He can’t take it anymore. He removes his hand to give her a chance to recover, takes the hand covered in her cum, and sticks it down his pants. Hissing at the relief he gets from squeezing himself from base to tip has him seeing white. 

“Good girl, baby,” stroking himself, he nuzzles against her chin. He wants to kiss her but he wants to talk them both up into a frenzy. “Took it so well, let me treat y’little pussy right. Does she still want more?” y/n nods, sniffling and scrunching her nose, “you do? Want my mouth or my fingers next, lovie?”

“I want more than that. It’s not… not enough,” she whimpers. 

Harry cocks his head to the side and thrusts into his hand once more before going to touch her again. He’s painfully hard, and the catch of his tip against the terrycloth fabric inside is overstimulating him. “Not enough? I made you come three times and it wasn’t enough?”

“Give me more, Harry, please I-I need it,” y/n angles her hips in his direction again. A thin film of sweat coats her skin, and the baby hairs at her temple are sticking to the skin. Her eyes are red, but she’s not crying anymore, and a line of clear snot trails into her upper lip that she keeps sniffling. She looks thoroughly fucked now before Harry’s even stuck his cock in her. He cleans her face with the edge of a blanket and kisses her under each eye. Before he can right himself again, she pulls him back down by his hair and presses her mouth against his. Little pecks at first, and then she’s licking at the seam of his mouth, all the while Harry just smirks. He doesn’t kiss her back at first, and when she starts to cry about it, he leans in and devours her mouth. 

He’s brutal in his kiss, sticking his tongue in his mouth and knocking his teeth against hers. She tastes sweet, like chocolate and strawberries and weed. Y/n melts against him, opening up her lips to him and licking back like a cat. When they separate, a string of saliva connects their mouths. 

“What do you need? Hmm? Want my mouth and my fingers, too? No?” He hums low, pretending to think of naughty ways to get her off, when in reality, he’s already thought of a million and one, “want to ride one off on my thigh? Rub that wet thing between y’legs all over mine and leave a sticky mess behind? Y’might give y’self a burn, but that’s what you get for poking into something y’should have.”

“No. I’m sorry, H, just please- help me-” she pleads meekly. 

“I want to help y’lovie, but y’gotta tell me because I’m running out of ideas here,” before he can finish her sentence, she makes a frustrated huff and buries her head into his neck. Y/n wraps her leg around his, trying to pull him on her but all she manages is to lift herself up and grind her molten core on the hard ridges of his abs. An absurdly loud moan resonates throughout the room, and Harry groans at the way she ruts into the air, a pull in his abdomen demanding his dick makes contact with something. Her hands find purchase on his shoulders, and Harry has to remain tense while she uses him as leverage to push her hips up so her clit drags against the ridge just below his belly button. He’s being mean, watching her struggle and pant, sweat gathering at her temples and between her tits, but he can’t help but watch her use him. She’s so focused on trying to get herself off, it’s almost like he’s not even there as long as he isn’t moving. 

The way he watches her is so nonchalant, it’s almost as if he’s not a few touches away from cumming himself. He merely smiles lazily at her efforts, mumbling lame encouragement and telling her she was so cute while she puffed and struggled to get herself off. She couldn’t keep herself touching his abdomen for long enough to pick up a pace. When she starts to tire out, her pants turn into frustrated huffs, and her thighs quake from exertion. 

Harry chuckles, “y’need help, baby? Y’were doing just fine before. Didn’t seem to need me then.” 

She sulked, and the expression on her face was only missing the stomping of feet to resemble a tantrum, “You’re being mean!”

“Oh, darling,” he soothed, licking the salty drop of moisture that fell from the side of her eye in frustration. He wanted to keep toying with her until the only word she knew was his name in different volumes and tones, but if his own dick was hurting this badly without an added stimulant, he can’t imagine what she was feeling. He gently kissed her lips and pulled away before her eager tongue made an earnest effort to deepen their connection. “don’t cry.”

“It hurts,” y/n turned her head to the side, into the pillow to cover her face, and mindlessly ran her hands across his shoulders. A smattering of gooseflesh covered her, and for some reason, it softened him. 

“Here, why don’t we try this,” he moves them so swiftly, so she’s on top, her legs on either side of him, her center sitting atop his belly button. Harry decides that he’s going to let her have her fun for a while before taking control. “Better, lovie? Like this?” Her jaw is slack from the contact of the muscular ridges, her clit grazing against the indent of his abs as guided by his hands on her hips, dragging her back and force to set a rhythm. Hurried ah-ah-ah’s are choked out from her, and y/n tries to go faster, her thigh muscles straining against Harry’s grip. And he lets her go. 

With his elbows planted on the bed to support himself, he flexed his core and smirked in satisfaction when she mewled and humped him erratically, muttering that it felt so good, how she was so close. There had never been a time like this before, in which he practiced such restraint, but just gazing at her was enough. He began to pant with a savage abandon, entranced by the bouncing of her tits, the little huffs of breath that interrupted her cries. Precum leaked out of his dick and made a dark sport on the gray fabric of his pants at the feeling of her wet pussy rubbing against him. Using him to get off. This sweet angel who had been scared to look him in the eye at one point, who didn’t know shit about drugs, who had captivated him before he knew her name, was using him to get off. He had never felt so lucky. 

“Go on then, use me,” Harry canted his hips up to press against her as she came down on him, and groaned when the tip of his dick touched her ass. “Give this pussy what it needs, baby. Whatever she wants,” grabbing her thigh, he stroked her, swiping up and down and skating his thumb on the tender skin that wasn’t touching.“Can I rub you right here? She wants me to touch her, will y’let me?”

Nodding fervently, so eager, “Yes, please. Anything you want Harry, need to going to-”

“Cum all over my belly?” Harry suggested, his palm stopping where her thigh meets her hip so that his thumb could reach her clit and swipe against it as she moved. Her hole fluttered against him, and then he felt her start to clench, grasping around nothing as the beginnings of another burst build inside her. His thumb flicked her bundle of nerves faster, rolling longer in bursts of two or three, and then she stilled, her thighs spasming from an orgasm announced by the shout of his name. “Look at you, y’shaking,” he whispered in awe, his hips stuttering when she feebly tried to rock against him while still cumming, “and you still fucking want more.”

“Make it go way, H,” y/n pleaded, her shoulders twitching from the continuation of the orgasm she had previously. The dim lighting in the room makes it hard to see but he doesn’t miss the way she arches her back and pushes her tits out. His mouth waters at the thought of sucking them again, but he wants her to be filthy. As filthy as his thoughts were getting. 

“No.” He says, taking his hand away and watching her pussy shudder against him as he cuts her orgasm short. 

Y/n whines low in her throat and lets her body fall forward. She rests on top of him now, her head by his ear. Her mouth is hot against his ear when she mutters wetly, “please.”

“You’re gonna do what I just did again, and again until it stops,” Harry rubs a hand up her back, through her shoulderblades and up the nape of her neck until his fingers are deep in her hair, and tightens his grip to keep her still from licking his jaw. He yanks her back so her face is a hair away from him, their noses a centimeter from touching, “or until you tell me exactly what you want”

Gulping, her head bobs up and down and her tone becomes pitiful, “Kay. Please.. can you… unbutton your jeans, please?”

“I said y’ have to tell me, not take what you want, y/n.” He feels try to slowly inch forward to kiss him. 

“I know! I know!” Shutting her eyes tightly and whimpering when Harry pulls her back to stop her movements again, her high-pitched tone of voice sounds like music to his ears, “m’gonna go again, I promise, but your buttons are hurting my… butt.” 

There's a beat of silence, and then he kisses her nose. Let's go of her hair, and tucks his hands behind his head like he's kicking back for a fucking vacation and not like if she accidentally touched his cock one more time he would cum. “Y’cute, lovie, go ahead, then. M’only watching this time.”

“S’not fair!” Y/n complained but reluctantly started moving over her own lubrication. Harry was so wet with her arousal that the filthiest suction noises were coming from where their skin touched. The insides of her thighs were hot against him, and he imagined it was from the irritation. Later, he would have to apply the cream to them. But he wasn’t going to touch her then. Not when she was being so bratty after he made her cum several times. 

Cocking an eyebrow, Harry growled “what’s not fair is you ate my sex brownie, y/n, but I’m not complaining, am I? What if I wanted to fuck someone else senseless, eat out their sopping cunt, and have them beg me ‘more, h, s’not enough’? Have them mark me with their cum like you’re doing right now, and play with their clit till they can’t talk properly?” She didn’t like what he had to say“Oh, I see, y’don’t like that, do you, baby? I’m doin’ these things with you, s’not enough?” 

“No!” A warmth spread in Harry’s chest at her disapproval of him doing things to someone else, at the thought that they shared the same possessiveness. 

“What more do you-” she lifts her hip and inches back, and then she pulled his sweatpants down and come down in such a way that her folds were fit snugly against the angry red tip of his cock. He hissed and stilled, “Y/n, what-”

“Want this, h,” y/n whispered and rolled her hips against him. That was all it took. One touch of her pussy on him and hot, thick white ropes of his cum were spurting between them. A long animalistic groan thrummed in his chest, the tightness in his core snapped and so did he. He grabbed her with a curse and held her still as he fucked out his orgasm, his dick sliding between her folds furiously as the orgasm continued like it would never end. Moaning as he watches her bite down on her lip, climbing up on another climax as moisture burst on the length of his cock. She was quivering, grinding against him as much as she could so prettily. His blood was boiling at it felt like he was going to have heatstroke from how warm he was everywhere, but the pleasure was lighting up each of his nerves and he could care less if he died right after. 

“My cock?” He snarled, his lips pulled back so he looked like the animal he was being. Puffs of air were sifting through his nostrils harshly, but he kept dirty talking her. “Y’naughty little thing, lookin’ like a fucking wreck with me sliding in between you like this, fuck, sucking me right in.”

“Feels so good,” y/n panted, her hands on his wrists at her hips. Her touch was featherlight on him, and Harry knew she was getting to the end of the brownies. 

“Does it, baby?” 

“Yeah, you’re so warm, it-it feels really really good,” bits of her words disappeared with gasps that took her oxygen away. She was so flushed, her skin damp with sweat. 

“Is that all you know how to say?” He slows his movements, and instead of moving her over him, Harry thrusts. His member setting a harsh, punishing pace that would have him reaching her g-spot repeatedly if he was inside her.“Or are you just not thinking right because you want me to fuck you so badly?” 

“Yes! Yes!” 

“Say it,” snarling, he pistoned up into her, the familiar sensation of a coiling rope building in him once more. The tip of his cock between them was leaking precum, y/n’s pussy dripping creamy slick on him so there was a sopping mess between them. 

“I want you to fuck me, h,” on his name, y/n starts shaking uncontrollably, another orgasm running through her and this one renders her into a sobbing mess. Harry… well he’s moaning without reserve, eyes shut as pleasure overtakes him again. This time he savors it, slowing their bodies down so their sensual touches drag out longer. Low sobs shakes her, and she collapses beside him and starts to curl in on herself from the overwhelming sensations. Harry follows, climbing over her and turning her so she’s facing him and looking her right in the eyes. 

“I’m not gonna fuck you dumb, tonight, sweetheart. Not when you’re already stupid horny from a brownie y’took without permission. Remember what I said? Only good girls get me between their legs. And you were so, so, naughty.” He was pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses below her breasts, peppering them both and tweaking her nipples when they weren’t in his mouth. 

Y/n begins to cry, tears immediately falling at his rejection. Her beginning is desperate, “No. No, h. Please, I’ll do anything. Please, I want-” 

“I know you want to cum. So that’s what I’ll give you. But not with my dick. Gonna eat up all the honey that comes out of this puffy little hole and I don’t care if y’cum so much y’crying because your slit is numb. I’m gonna stop when I want to, understand? Nod if you understand.” She does as he asks, and sniffles. “Good. Now lay down and let me eat.” 

Her back has barely touched the mattress before his mouth is on her, devouring her like it's both the first and last meal he’s ever had. His tongue is hot on her already creamy pussy, and the taste of her has him rutting into the mattress like a fucking animal, fucking down on it like it’s her. He laps at her desperately, ears keenly aware of every moan, squeak, whimper that comes out of her. He fucks into her hole with his tongue, licking her cream before it's even fully out of her, and spitting it back out on her clit. The action makes y/n freeze, and he looks up, momentarily confused thinking that he’s crossed a boundary but…

But y/n’s head is thrown so far back he can count the veins in her neck, and her body is trembling, a restrained garble of words incoherently coming out of her in pants and Harry knows she’s coming. He blows on her clit, allowing his spit and her cum to drip before going back down to slurp at it. He focuses on that little button, suckling at it and flicking it with his tongue. Soon enough, y/n is yelping, her hands in his hair as she tried to wretch him away. It’s finally become too much. 

“Don’t you fucking pull me off, I’m not finished yet,” he momentarily takes his hands off of her thighs and wraps them around her wrist, pressing down on the tendon at the center to wiggle her fingers off his head. He tucks them under her back, and places his mouth on her once more, dark eyes threatening her as he mouths his words on cunt, “Lay down and don’t pull again or I’ll tie y’up.” 

Holding her down firmly, Harry splayed his tongue flat on her and sucks, surprised and pleased by the shriek that escaped her. Y/n is crying, saying she can’t take it, that it was enough, but Harry isn’t listening. He’s so lost in his own pleasure, the arousal he gets from her taste, the sounds she makes because of him, that he’s chasing after his own orgasm by rubbing his cock against the bed. He’s getting frustrated because he wants to get there as soon as she does, and he knows it's gonna be soon with the way she’s throbbing against his lips. 

So he reaches down and squeezes himself in a tight fist, lubrication not necessary because of how slippery he was already. The moment he does, his vision goes white, and there's a spurt of heat below his belly button, and moisture drenching the lower half of his face. 

They lay there heaving briefly, and he becomes aware that she’s no longer awake. Her breathing is stinted with hiccups from leftover sobs, but she’s asleep. The tip of her nose is red, her eyes red-rimmed. He knows she’s going to wake up tired and with a headache tomorrow, but he’ll be there with her. With the corner of a blanket, he cleans them up as much as he can and tosses that soiled sheet away, grabbing a much more clean one and throwing it over them. 

“Night, baby.” He kissed her forehead and tucked his Achilles heel close to his chest, the girl sleeping like a rock in his arms. 

#harry styles blurbs #harry styles #harry styles blurb #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x reader #harry styles imagine #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fic #harry styles smut #harry styles fanfiction

[major-mads]

Chapter 3: Listen to Your Heart

John "Bucky" Egan x Ruth Morgan (OFC)

Series Masterlist

A/N: I'm so glad y'all are enjoying the series!! Thank you so much for reading!! Us Callum girlies sure got some...cough cough...quality content in episode four, that's for sure! Let me know what you think, and go read the other half of the story using the link below!!! this wonderful gif is by @zsuo!

Collab: On a Wing and a Prayer by @footprintsinthesxnd

Word Count: 4.7k

August 3rd, 1943

Ruthie, Since Saturday night, you have rarely left my mind. I replay the dance in my head, trying to commit every detail to memory. I love being around you, Ruth. I couldn’t imagine the night going any better than it did, and I’m so glad that you stepped outside of your comfort zone to come with me. Curt’s been giving me a hard time about embarrassing you when I sang, but I told him you loved it, even if I sound like a “dying animal” in Buck’s words.  Speaking of Buck, I’ve decided to never let him live down Saturday’s condom incident with Hope. Hugh sure isn’t letting it go, so I can’t help but join in on the fun. Despite that, I think he had a great time with her, even though he’s a total stick in the mud. I can’t believe they didn’t dance, Ruthie! Our dance was my favorite part of the night, besides how we said goodnight, of course.

I would really like to see you again soon, Ruth. It’s no secret that I’m taken with you, and I think you feel the same. We’re spending the next few weeks replacing crews and forts, so we won’t be too busy. If you’re able, please stop by and pay me a visit. At the sight of your sweet, kind smile, and the feeling of your hand in mine, my worries seem to disappear. The only worry left in my mind is that my efforts to convert you to a Yankees fan won’t be successful. I hold onto the hope that you’ll see that the Braves are terrible and that the Yankees are the better team. The Braves went 11 and 18 this past month, and my amazing team went 21 and 11. You can’t argue against stats, slugger. I hope this won’t affect your feelings toward me because then we might have a problem. I can’t wait to see you again soon. Please stay safe up there for me.  Your Hotshot, Johnny Egan

August 6th, 1943

Dear John, I am happy to hear that you and the boys are finally getting a break. When we were at the dance, I knew y’all were exhausted, but you sure didn’t show it, Major. You danced and sang like there was no tomorrow, and I had more fun than I had in a long while in your arms. Don’t worry about what Curt or Buck said. I loved your singing, even if it was slightly off-key and very loud. You might have embarrassed me, but seeing you in your element was worth it.  Every time I think back to that night, my heart begins to race and I can’t help but smile at the thought of you. I’m so very grateful that you decided to bring me along. Somehow you manage to turn me into a giddy, blushing teenager every time you cross my mind. Our kiss is a cherished memory of mine, and forgive me for being forward, but I hope that we can make more of such memories in the future.  Hope had an amazing time with Gale at the dance, and apparently, he wasn’t as much of a “stick in the mud” as you think. I’m sworn to secrecy, but know that they are very fond of each other already. When we got back to Grove the day after the dance, we told Frank what happened with…the incident, and he thought it was hilarious! He even said that he “did his job well,” whatever that means.  I would love nothing more than to come see you, but sadly, I don’t know when I’ll be able. Casualties from Italy are getting worse with the invasion of Sicily underway, and we’ve been on runs almost every day since we got back from the dance. Regardless of this, the first chance we get, Hope and I will make our way up to Thorpe Abbotts.  I can’t wait to see you again, Johnny, but the blatant slander against the Braves might damage your chances of getting another kiss. We’ll just have to agree to disagree on this because I promise you I am not going to be converted. After all, a little friendly rivalry never hurt anyone, right? Don’t hurt yourself falling off your bike during your break. Yours,  Ruth Morgan P.S. I would like to meet Meatball the next time I visit the base!

Sunday, August 8th, 1943: Thorpe Abbotts AAF Base, Norwich

The mess hall buzzed with energy as Buck and Johnny sat at breakfast with Curt, who slowly moved his powdered eggs around on his plate with his fork. 

“I can’t eat this shit anymore,” he groaned, pushing the plate away from him.

John took a slow sip of his “coffee,” raising an eyebrow at the man. “Then don’t eat it.”

“Oh wow,” Biddick quipped. “What a great idea, Bucky. I’d never thought of that.”

The major smirked behind his mug and shot his friend a wink. Buck watched on in amusement, used to the two going back and forth as he and John did.

Leaning his elbows on the table, Curt leaned over the table toward John with a teasing glare. “Have you heard anything from Ruthie? Has she mentioned me? I thought I made a good first impression the other night.”

“Hmm,” Johnny hummed, pursing his lips for a moment before pointing at Biddick. “That’s Nurse Morgan to you, you dodo. I’m surprised you even remember anything from the dance with how drunk you were.”

“Oh I couldn’t forget a face like that,” he chuckled.

John’s eyes narrowed playfully as he clasped his hands together and leaned on the table. “Well it’s a good thing for me that she could forget yours, then,” he clapped back. “And you’re not the one she kissed goodnight.”

Buck rolled his eyes and continued to eat his breakfast as Egan’s loud, wide-mouthed cackle echoed through the mostly quiet mess hall. Curt then turned to Gale with a raised brow. “How about Hope-”

“Nope,” Buck interrupted calmly, raising his cup and taking a sip of his steaming coffee.

The other two men watched him as a tiny grin formed on the Major’s lips. Although he didn’t talk about it much, they could tell Buck had already developed deep feelings for the woman. 

Raising his eyebrows at Curt, John grinned. “Oh boy.”

“You’ve got it bad, Buck,” Biddick laughed, his hand landing on Gale’s shoulder roughly. “You gotten a reply to your letter yet?”

Thinking of the perfectly folded letter from Ruth he’d picked up that morning sitting in his breast pocket, John smiled down at his food, warmth spreading through him at the thought of the blonde. Buck, however, pursed his lips and shook his head at the question.

“I actually haven’t written her yet,” he sighed, running a hand down his face. “I want-”

“What!?” Johnny all but yelled, his eyes widening as coffee almost spewed from his mouth. “Why the hell not, Buck? I already sent one to Ruth and got a response.”

Gale groaned and put down his fork with a clink. “Because of Hugh.”

“Why are you so worried about Charlie?” Curtis asked, wearing a confused expression.

“Because he’s in my squadron. And he’s her brother.”

John pointed and leaned over the table at him. “Hope’s a big girl, Buck. She can make her own decisions. Screw what Hugh says.”

“But-” Gale started but was once again cut off by Bucky.

“He’s gonna hate you even more if he thinks you're leading her on. You not sending Hope a letter isn’t making anything better,” he said, a smirk beginning to tug at his lips as he continued. “On top of the condom situation.” 

John and Curt busted out into chuckles as Buck just groaned, closing his eyes tightly. “Oh, please don’t remind me.”

The ideal chatter was disturbed by the door to the mess hall swinging back on its hinges with a crash, followed by heavy footfall as Hugh all but stormed through the building like a tornado. He snatched a mug off a table and poured himself a steaming cup of black coffee before marching past the trio, staring daggers at Gale who looked up worriedly from his breakfast. 

Curt’s eyes followed the man as he walked in, muttering under his breath, “Speak of the devil.”

"Good morning to you, too, Sparky," John called out with a small wave as he walked by, only to be met with deafening silence from the other pilot. 

Hugh's harsh glare was burning a hole in the back of Gale’s skull and he thought any second now he’d come into his brain and it would be lights out. 

“You’ve really pissed him off this time, Buck, and you didn’t even get his sister into bed,” John laughed heartily, taking a long swig from his whiskey and coffee, it was most likely more whiskey than coffee but Gale humored him. 

“Will you give it a rest? I’m already getting it from Hugh without your added input,” Gale stabbed aggressively at his scrambled eggs, willing the eyes of the room to stop looking at him. 

Curt snorted beside him, waving his fork around. “Well, I’m telling you boys, if I’d have had Hope in my arms and she’d bought condoms with her, let’s just say she wouldn’t have been going back home with them.” 

That was the final straw. 

Gale slammed his fist down on the table, ignoring the way Johnny jumped in his seat, spilling his coffee over the table, and the way several chunks of his scrambled egg disappeared onto the floor.

“You say anymore slander about my girl, Biddick and I swear…”

“Your girl, Buck?” John raised his right eyebrow, an amused smirk on his lips as his mustache twitched. “She’s your girl and you haven’t even written her yet?”

Sometimes Gale wished he could rip that stupid mustache off John’s face, but he kept his cool. 

It would seem that Hugh had heard the whole commotion. His chair screeching back from the table, he stomped up between the tables once more, his glare never leaving Gale until the door slammed shut behind him. 

Buck groaned, unsure if it was in relief or at the impending doom that he was likely to suffer if this debacle continued. Without a second thought, he excused himself from the table, ignoring the calls of protest from John and Curt, and hurried after Hugh. 

“Hugh! Hugh, wait up. Please, I want to talk to you,” Gale jogged after the tall brunette whose face turned sour the instant he noticed him.

The door quickly closed behind him, and Curt looked at the major across from him with a guilty expression. “I was just joking, Bucky. I would never-”

“Ahh don’t worry about it,” John said as he sipped on his coffee. “He knows that. Like you said, Buck’s got it bad and this thing with Hugh has been eating at him since Saturday.” 

Biddick nodded to himself, his eyes lingering on the door. “Do you think Hugh’ll let it go?”

“For Buck’s sake, I do…I think he will. Doesn’t mean I won’t still rag Buck about it, though.” 

“Yeah,” Curt mumbled, staring down at his plate.

Neither man spoke for a few moments, each lost in their thoughts until Bucky wiped his mouth with his napkin and stood up. “I’ve got a letter to write. See you later, Curt.”

“I never thought I’d live to see the day,” Biddick replied. “Bucky Egan writing a love letter. Looks like Buck isn’t the only one who’s got it bad.”

John tugged his white-fleece jacket back into place and chuckled at his friend. “Don’t go all soft on me.”

“I think it suits you, John. Really,” he urged, a soft smile on his lips. “You seem happier.”

Staring at him for a moment, Bucky didn’t quite know how to respond. He felt happier. He had something to look forward to other than getting drunk at the bar or the adrenaline rush he got when the sound of .50 cal brownings echoed through his fort. John placed his cap back on his head, and with a curt nod, turned toward the door.

His tie suddenly became too tight around his throat as he pushed through the doors into the cool English air, and he quickly loosened it, letting it hang limply as he took a deep breath. In that moment, John Egan had a profound realization.

Since he came over to England in May, he had been simply going through the motions, replaying the same days over and over: Wake up…Fly forts…Bomb targets…Get drunk��Show a woman a good time…then start the cycle again the next day. For someone with such a passionate personality, he lacked the feeling that he so deeply desired. Curt could vouch for this, being the one to knock some feeling back into him a few months back on the wing of Mugwump.

But since that day in July when the nurses landed on their small base in East Anglia, feeling had slowly been creeping back into his life. He first felt it when Ruth caught him staring, and was soon captivated by her dimpled smile and capable personality. The numbness that had become so familiar to him faded into the background when she was near, her laughter shaking free his heart a little more each time it left her lips. 

He was alive with Ruth. More alive than he felt when ME-109s whizzed past him or when flack shook his fort. More alive than when he unbuttoned a woman’s dress and laid her down. More alive than the burning sensation that traveled down his throat when he downed another shot at the bar.

Over the past few weeks, the blonde nurse had somehow burrowed into his jaded exterior and broken down the walls he didn’t even know existed. 

John’s mind reeled as he silently mounted his bike and rode to the base HQ. The ride passed in a blur, and before he knew it, he was sitting at his desk, staring down at the blank sheet of paper before him. He hadn’t had a problem writing her before, so why was this any different?

How was he supposed to convey such profound feelings in a letter?

He started simply, letting his mind imagine her there beside him.

“Dear Ruth.”

Thursday, August 12, 1943: Termini Imerese, Sicily, Italy

“You ready girls!” Frank called over his shoulder, glancing as Hope and Ruth took the stretcher from the medics below them and loaded the last wounded soldier onto the rack. Hope pulled out her flight manifest and checked off the final patient to board. The young boy reached out, grasping her hand. 

“Nurse,” his voice cracking as he tried to grab her attention. He was so young, barely eighteen years old. His bright blue eyes, glossy and hazy, gazed up at her. 

“Yes, My Love,” Hope crouched down, clasping the boy's hand in one of hers while her other brushed away his brunette locks from his face. She tried to stop her eyes from drifting down his body to where only stumps of his legs remained, the burnt flesh wrapped neatly in crisp bandages. 

“You’re an angel,” he whispered and Hope smiled sweetly at him, squeezing his hand. “When I write home, I’m gonna tell my Momma ‘bout you.” 

A single tear trickled down her cheek and she leaned forward, pressing a soft kiss to his forehead and watching until he drifted off to sleep. His delicate, young features were no longer etched with worry, and the hard lines across his forehead softened as the morphine began to take effect. 

Hope turned, watching as Ruth comforted one of the other young men further down the plane who had managed to remove some of his bandages. 

“Hey, don’t do that, you need those,” Ruth tutted quietly, helping the Private sit up a little so she could secure fresh, white bandages around his bloody arm. The poor boy grumbled under his breath as Ruth tucked in the end. “Now leave ‘em be, okay?”

The young boy nodded, shifting uncomfortably in his cot. They weren’t the most comfortable racks, just cool metal bars lining the hammock-like beds that swayed as the C-47 rocked through the sky. 

Hope took her seat beside Ruth, who had finished trying to redress the soldier's wounds, smiling briefly at her friend, who wore the same exhausted expression she did.

“I can’t wait to get back to the Grove. I need a warm bath and my bed,” Ruth mumbled, stretching out her aching muscles that screamed against the tension in her body. 

“Oh don’t say that, Rue. We’ve still got to drop these poor boys off at the hospital in Mateur.” Ruth just groaned in response. 

The dance with the boys had been their last outing in a while. It was the last time Hope hadn’t felt completely exhausted. She’d been relaxed, able to let go, and safe in Gale’s arms. 

This trip had been hard. The plane was at full capacity and when they arrived on the airfield at Termini Imerese, Sicily, they were instantly thrown into action. The girls disappeared into the makeshift hospitals that lined the airfield, the white tents flapping in the harsh wind that did little to cool the heat from the scorching midday sun. 

Hope and Ruth conferred with the surgeons, assessing and stabilizing patients that were safe to fly, meaning that many of the young men with head injuries or who had suffered significant blood loss would be unable to fly due to the unpressurized aircraft cabins. Many of the men didn’t have emergency medical tags, so the girls had to make their own assessments for many of the patients. 

The thrumming roar of the C-47’s engine erupting to life always brought a great sense of comfort to Hope, along with an impending sense of fear in unison. This job, while rejuvenating her youth through the exhilarating flights and the lives they saved, aged her with each passing moment spent in the air, because after every successful landing she was left with the feeling that although they had saved lives, they couldn’t save them all. This weighed heavily on both of the women.

Frank and his fellow pilot chatted hastily in the cockpit, their muffled voices cracking through over the radio. As soon as the plane leveled out Hope and Ruth stood, each taking a side of the plane and beginning the checkups on their patients, recording their temperature, pulse, and respiration as well as checking there was no strike through of blood from their dressings. The girls worked quickly, only conferring on their patients' conditions. 

It always amazed Hope how quickly their work changed them, on the flight over Ruth had been once again telling her about the letter she’d received from John. Hope feared she could probably quote Ruth’s letter herself by now, but she never complained, pleased that Ruth was finally coming out of herself. 

Hope had her own letter from Gale tucked into her top overall pocket, over her heart. His words burned into her flesh and she felt as though he was right there beside her all along. 

Having dropped off the soldiers at the large US hospital in Mateur, Tunisia, the C-47 headed home. The mood was somber as the large metal bird rattled its way across Europe towards England. 

Ruth’s eyes had closed about half an hour before, and Hope didn’t have the heart to wake her up. She looked so peaceful, the wrinkles that normally appeared when she smiled were smoothed away, and her blonde locks fell softly from where she had so lovingly pinned them that very morning. 

Hope took Gale’s letter out of her pocket, smoothing out the creases that had poked around the edge of the page. Words of affirmation sprung out at her and a smile was instantly cemented to her lips as she relieved the last moments with him. 

The flight home always seemed quicker, and soon ‘The Angel of Death’ was touching down on the runway. Hope helped a rather sleepy Ruth off the plane and waved goodnight to Frank, who chuckled in amusement at the blonde’s incoherent murmurs, some of them sounding an awful lot like the name of her beloved major.

 “Goodnight Ladies.” 

“Come on, Rue. Let’s get you home,” Hope wrapped her arm around her sleepy friend, leading the way to the Nissan huts they were billeted in. 

Some of the other nurses were still stationed in Africa and so they currently had the hut to themselves. Hope lay Ruth down on the bed, smiling as she snuggled closer into the pillow.

So much for a warm bath…

Hope would rag her about it later, but she couldn’t deny that the stress of the day was getting to her too, but something restless kept her from falling into her own bed. Instead, Hope sat at the small desk in the corner, pulling out a piece of paper and a pen. She pulled Gale’s crumpled letter from her pocket, smoothed it flat onto the desk, and began writing her reply.

The following day, the girls finally had a day off, and as much as they wanted to make the trip up to Thorpe Abbotts, the nurses were so exhausted that they barely got out of bed. 

“What time is it?” Ruth groaned, turning onto her side to hide from the bright sun peeking through the curtains. 

Getting no response, she cracked her eyes open, and a smile tugged at her lips at the sight before her. In the corner of the room, Hope’s cheek lay smushed against the desktop, her messy black hair splayed around her as she slept soundly. The corner of a paper could just barely be seen under her hair, and Ruth immediately knew what she’d fallen asleep doing.

Sighing softly, she pulled back her covers and padded over to Hope, wincing at the sting of her feet against the cold floors. “Hope,” Ruth whispered, rubbing the woman’s shoulder gently. “Come on, let’s get you into bed.”

She awoke slowly, allowing the blonde to sit her up off the desk. “Five more minutes,” Hope mumbled.

Ruth chuckled, the sound echoing through the silent hut. Luckily, Hope’s bed was directly beside the desk, so the smaller woman didn’t have to maneuver her around too much to get her onto the mattress. 

Gently laying her extra blanket over her best friend, Ruth smiled down at her. “There you go. Snug as a bug.”

She then walked over to her bed and snuggled under the covers again, but not before closing their blackout curtains, causing darkness to envelop the room once again. The warmth drew her back into her peaceful slumber, her eyes fluttering closed as her mind repeated Johnny’s latest letter:

Sunday, August 8th, 1943

Dear Ruth, I can’t wait to see you again. I know I said that in my last letter, but I’ve recently discovered that absence actually does make the heart grow fonder. I find myself waiting in anticipation for your letters the moment I send off my own, and I long to see you…to have you here next to me. Hopefully, your missions will ease soon and you’ll finally get a break, too. I understand how tiring it can be to fly day after day, and that’s without even having to take care of patients. Please take care of yourself, alright? As much as I would love to see you, please rest if you get the chance. Don’t worry about me. We’ll see each other soon enough. Today Buck finally wrote Hope back. I tried to tell him how stupid it was to wait, but he was adamant about getting Hugh’s approval. He’s a bigger man than I am, Ruth. Regardless of this, we can never let him live the incident down…ever. In response to your threat to withhold your affection from me, I say bring it on. Like I said before, you can’t argue with facts. The Yankees are the better team, and I’m going to convince you of that, so I cannot agree to disagree. I’m too stubborn to let you win, and if I’m being honest, I don’t know if you’ll be able to resist my charming personality…or the mustache. I know you love the mustache, Ruth. If you decide to follow through on your threat, I’ll shave it off. Just for you. Don’t stand between a man and kisses from his girl. It doesn’t end well for anyone. But it’s like you said, a little friendly rivalry never hurt anyone, right? Please be safe, Ruthie, and know I am thinking of you. Yours, John Egan

Knock. Knock. Knock.

“Hope! Ruth! You alive in there?” a voice hollered through the hut’s door, rousing Ruth for the second time that morning. She opened her mouth to reply, but Hope beat her to it. 

“Go away, Frank!” she groaned, covering her ears with her pillow.

“It’s almost noon,” the man chuckled. “I know you’re tired but you both need to get up. We’ve got stuff to do.”

Sitting up abruptly, Ruth grabbed her watch off her small side table, her eyes widening when she read 11:43 am. She looked over to Hope who was also staring at her watch in utter disbelief.

“I haven’t slept in this much since I was a teenager,” Hope muttered under her breath before turning to Ruth, almost breaking into a fit of laughter at the blonde’s wonky curls from the day before. “We look terrible.”

Frank pounded his fist against the door, yelling, “Get up!”

“WE ARE!!” They both hollered back, unable to keep the frustration from lacing their voices.

Throwing off her covers, Hope stood to her feet and marched over to the door, swinging it open. Ruth clamored quickly out of bed to follow her, stopping right behind her shoulder as they glared at Frank. His eyes scanned the women before him, and a grimace appeared on his face at their ragged appearances. 

“Okay,” he started, raising his hands in surrender. “Go back to sleep. You look like shit, and I’d rather do things on the plane by myself than deal with your grumpy attitudes.”

They narrowed their eyes at him. “Nope. We’re awake now,” Hope retorted, smiling sweetly at him.

Sighing, Frank stepped back from the door with a barely concealed smirk. “Meet me at the hardstand.”

As Hope shut the door, Ruth flopped back on her bed, her eyes following Hope’s figure walking across the room to the desk in the corner. “How’s Gale?” she asked, propping her head up with her hand.

Hope began to neatly fold up the letter, smiling softly as she talked over her shoulder. “He’s good. Said he didn’t write because of Hugh causing problems, but he’s got his blessing now.” She turned toward Ruth with dusty pink cheeks, giggling to herself. “He even signed his last letter with ‘your Gale.’”

“Hope!” Ruth squealed, sitting up and covering her mouth with her hands. “I’m so happy for you. You deserve someone like Gale, and I’m sure Hugh sees how much he adores you.”

Hope looked down at the letter in her hands, her heart swelling at the thought of the man. “He’s amazing,” she whispered as her eyes traced over his name on the paper. After a few moments, she shook her head, seemingly clearing her thoughts, and raised an eyebrow at Ruth. “How’s John?”

It was now Ruth’s turn to blush, the tips of her ears heating up at the mention of the major. “Great…amazing…wonderful. I feel like I’ve known him so much longer than a few weeks, Hope. You know how I can get sometimes, but when I’m with him, I don’t feel nearly as anxious. And when he kissed me…I wished it could’ve lasted forever. I can’t wait to see him again.”

Sighing softly, Hope plopped down onto her bed. “Look at us, Rue. We’re like a bunch of lovesick teenagers.”

“Yeah, we are,” Ruth giggled, her mind replaying her and John’s laughter, soft touches, and tender looks from the dance. The way he held her face so delicately, how his lips-

“Come on,” Hope called, her mattress squeaking as she got up, breaking Ruth from her thoughts. “Let’s get ready so we can go annoy Frank.”

Tag List: @xxluckystrike @precious-little-scoundrel @bcofl0ve @violetdaze25 @docroesmorphine @kmc1989 @gfofsadie @artlover8992 @karashaw99 @dustyjumpwjngs @camicanos-blog @storysimp @b00ks1ut @sunny747 @leopard-skin-pillbox-hat-ok @yoongiscxr @blueberry-ovaries @sidneysidney123

message or comment if you want to be added to the tag list! <3

#masters of the air #hbo war #john egan #callum turner #gale cleven #austin butler #major buck cleven #gale buck cleven #major john egan #major john egan x oc #johnny egan #john egan x oc #major john bucky egan x oc #major john bucky egan #bucky egan #bucky egan x oc #buck cleven #johnny egan x oc #masters of the air fanfic #masters of the air fanfiction #mota fic #mota fanfic #john egan fanfiction #buck cleven x oc #hope armstrong #ruth morgan #the skytrain girls #hurt/comfort #hbowar x oc #hbowar fic

[robby-bobby-tommy]

I haven't watched purgatory streams cuz I am too busy rn, but here's some hcs

- Only emotionally charged scars stay on the body. Like both Phil and Fit have their scars because they felt so betrayed. The other wounds heal with respawn.

- Fit thought that Pac not only helped to kill him, but also agreed to be a bait to lure 2b2t veteran in a trap. After this "betrayal" Fit's eyes change.

- as a dumbahh who watched arcane, I really like the idea of eye changing with emotional stability. Like powder — blue/grey eyes, Jinx — pink eyes. So I have a HC that after the incident Fit's usually brown eyes change to almost toxic green eyes.

- Fit has severe PTSD about 2b2t. The betrayal triggered it and now he doesn't trust people.

- also Fit has 2b2t gravured in his prosthetic arm/gauntlet.

- every time étoiles kills someone, they have a star shaped scar.

- Phil has star shaped scar. Also the majority of his scars from nightmare and code fight. Also some from earth smp.

- Phil had a very speedy, flying oriented battle type. Now he has a different fighting skills, but likes to attack from above (using paraglider)

- Fit's battle skills are way more grounded, he puts way more force in his punches and swings. He also used to fight with only gauntlets/bare hands, so he's a master of hand-to-hand combat.

- Étoiles is just a goat, but he's something in between. He's also very grounded, but is jumpy.

- Roier is a funny but quiet kid, when it comes to battles. Nobody expects it, but he's a pro. He's super good at breaking through shields and at unarming opponent.

- Fit and Phil train together, and it's fun. But sometimes when crowza accidentally triggers PTSD, Fits fighting style suddenly changes. He now doesn't fight to better his skills, he fights to survive. His punches become more chaotic and heavy. They both apologize later.

- Jaiden is literally "I'm a helpless little girl. And j set the building on fire by accident, tooootaly by accident. Also I brought this dynamite. Goodbye:)" And then everything blows up. She's the epitome of "act weak when you're strong".

- Pol (i sadly haven't watched any of his streams cuz of language barrier, but I think he deserves more recognition) only pretends being oblivious and indifferent towards federation. Like he's the first person from all frozen members to remember his past and cooperate with cucurucho.

- I kinda feel like Rubius is one of the old residents of the island.

- Aypierre is Ayanami Rei (/j but I honestly don't understand his lore. I use Tumblr as a news channel and I still don't know what happened to Pierre. Is he ayrobot? Do they now share a body???)

- after the nether Forevers hair go to shoulders.

- Rubius once was just a man. He was an original old resident. After a few years of working with people on the server he was promoted to an angel/devil entity. For it was funny at first, but soon enough it became boring, cuz he wasn't allowed to interact with people apart giving them quests. So he disguised himself as a man and left the island. Later he came back on train with everyone. For escaping and messing with people, giving them illegal stuff ect he was demoted and "fell from heaven". (This HC has literally no reasons, but I like it.

- Carre likes to stretch like a cat.

- team bollas sleep close to each other, but don't go under blankets, cuz in their base there's literal lava above the celling.

- Fit is severely touch starved but he doesn't always trusts enough. During qsmp he became more affectionate, and started to initiate touching. He always puts his hand of someone's shoulder to comfort them (baby steps). I don't feel like after purgatory this stays like that.

- it's not my headcanon, but I adore when people draw Bagi muscular. Like, I dunno why. But I love it so much.

- Missa is a real skeleton, so when death duo reunited for the first time, Phil literally detached wet cat's skull from the neck, yelling "WHERE HAVE YOU BEEN"

- Some people have things that represent their close ones. Phil has skull, trinket (is it how it called?) of his kids on his back, flowers from forever, star keychain from étoiles and a bomb from Fit. Fit has Philza's feather, a necklace with a pacman on it, a bolt from Tubbo, and Ramon modifies his arm a lot. Ect ect.

- waaaay back when Slime went on a rampage after Juana's death, Fit called him to a tête-à-tête dialogue. At first he pushed Slime to the tree and put elbow on his neck, but during Charlie's monologue he let his guard down and even wanted to place his hand on the shoulder. Yet before that they were interrupted by Roier. (Also Charlie asking advice and trusting Fit all this time was quite sweet. Like, he even asked advice when dead eggs came back)

- during purgatory Phil balances himself with weapons.

- Charlie always suspected CodeFlippa wasn't the real one, but he deliberately chose to ignore that. Ignorance is a blessing.

- gladiator by Jann but Étoiles, you see what I see???

- Phil and Fit are terrible sleep bros. When they went to adventures with kids and had to sleep in the open, Fit couldn't sleep, listening to players steps, and Phil tried to figure out mobs. Also they play footsie (they said it on one stream, this is cannon. I really dunno are they besties or homos anymore)

- one of the ways to know if an avian on the server is sick is to see how their feathers react to water. If I'm correct, irl birds have a special stuff on them to not get wet. Only birds with sickness appear to be wet (mb not all birds are like that, I don't remember)

- just "are we still sisters?" Dialogue from arcane but Bagi and Cellbit

- everyone has bags under the eyes

That's all for now.

#qsmp #qsmp fitmc #qsmp philza #qsmp etoiles #qsmp pac #fitpac #qsmp roier #fitza #qsmp jaiden #qsmp polispol #qsmp aypierre #qsmp rubius #qsmp forever #qsmp carre #team bolas #qsmp bagi #qsmp missa #qsmp slimecicle #qsmp cellbit #qsmp headcanons #qsmp purgatory

[throwaway-yandere]

Posteriori (Yandere Idol!Shikanoin Heizou/Reader)

Alice's note, mother of Klee: Hello, dandelion anon! Mister Shikanoin is quite a smart one– can't say he's always cooperative buuuut he's interesting. I'm sure he wouldn't bother you too much! I don't think he's the type to play around with his subordinates, haha! Anyways, welcome, first recruit!!!

1k event masterlist

—--

You’ll never trust Alice, mother of Klee, founder of TEYVAT Productions, ever again.

Shikanoin Heizou thinks his mind functions only according to Descartes' System, which is divided into two parts: deduction and intuition. For his entire life, those two factors have never let him down. He correctly inferred that someone with his extensive criminology knowledge would function effectively as a private investigator or detective. The majority of the time, his estimates were accurate, and his fellow college students would sacrifice everything to borrow his brain for a day.

But his intuition states that this was not his destined path.

When he decided to audition to join the newly renamed "5WIRL" as its fifth member, several of his coworkers were startled. Everyone concerned went above and beyond to persuade him to go back to his studies, but he was undeterred. Heizou understands their dismay and is aware that seeing him change careers was like watching a kid forgetting their homework to play their brand-new game.

But if he is simply going to ignore intuition, what use is it to adhere to Descartes' System?

"My name is Shikanoin Heizou. I think, therefore I am" that was how he introduced himself to you.

Admittedly, your first words were not as grand.

"Come again?"

Heizou, in Thoma's words, "is not the easiest to get along with." He was Rene Descartes and you were his John Locke– the ex-detective couldn't phantom having you as his Pierre de Fermat. You have to experience something first before you gain expert knowledge of it. When you asked for more training, Heizou labeled you an a posteriori. Unlike Mister One-Take-Shikanoin here, not everyone can perfect routines on the first day. And most unfortunately not everyone has innate knowledge; some people start from scratch. And on their first day of work, some very unfortunate individuals were given Heizou's character sheet that had scarcely been answered.

Did you say "individuals"? sorry. The noun should be singular. By "an unfortunate individual", you were referring to yourself.

You're under contract for the next 5 years.

In a draw, this would be the misfortune slip. Not good enough to be good fortune, but not too terrible to be great misfortune– IF and only IF Heizou decides not to be a free-spirited prick. If he woke up one day and became an absolute menace, you would beg Itto's producer to switch idols instead. Sadly, your coworkers find solace in the fact that you are their "senior" and that you want them to feel secure because you are the first hire. They'll feel discouraged too if you let them know that you can't handle this assignment.

Some things are borne from chance or "coincidences", and if you were Pierre de Fermat or Blaise Pascal, you would've identified a clear answer as to how fate played you like a fiddle.

Based on the Law of Opinion, Heizou should at least be disliked by almost everyone. He shows up at business meetings late and on a whim before leaving when he wants to. This "detective" glues sticky notes wherever he wants and refuses to elaborate when confronted about his paperwork (which is, mind you, his progress is as barren as his attention span.) You pride yourself on the ability to read the room and empathize with others– Shikanoin is an outlier. An unplanned outlier. 

Thankfully, you like to clean up every once in a while.

----

"Hey dandelion, it's time to hit the hay!" Heizou crept behind you with a small smile on his face. He placed a hand on your shoulder. "Want to join me for dinner, alone? I found a place that sells deep-fried pork and I want YOU to be the first person I take there."

You sheepishly eyed the mess his group forgot the cleanup. The rest of the staff looked weary but did not utter a complaint. It wouldn't be good to leave them here.

You're so hungry. But you cannot in good conscience let your friends work overtime just because Heizou tinkered with some props.

"... I'll take a raincheck on that."

-----

You'd think that all of those things would be enough to warrant some animosity, but no, Mister Shikanoin is a welcomed new member of 4nemo (now 5wirl). There are even times when you find yourself doting on him. Heizou appeared to be the final component of the puzzle, waiting for the most opportune moment to fit in.  He assumed Aether's previous role and put into practice absurd concepts that nobody anticipated can be presented in an idol format. Court-themed performances? Murder mystery ARGs? You were amazed that he had won their hearts so readily and you didn't know he was capable of writing such a heartbreaking narrative about a fraud friend. As his producer, you were thrilled by how his "personal jury" praised him for his wit and charisma, but more importantly–

Who knew Heizou was so good at dancing?

After seeing the bigger picture, it made sense as to why the original members were inclined to add him in. He had a similar aura to the rest of the group while bringing more to the table. Heizou managed to mix his knowledge of martial arts and criminology with an idol's art form, and it's applaudable. 

... Come to think of it, his debut felt like yours as well. 

Not because you were moved by his joy and victorious performance– hard no. It's because, after the final song on the track list, he pulled you in front of the crowd and publicly (humiliated–) thanked you for being his assistant. 

In front of 100k people. 

And this cheeky jerk was grinning like he didn't know those normal people couldn't handle being seen by a massive audience.

"This is my beloved personal assistant, (Y/n)!!! Clap for them as well!!!" Heizou winked at the crowd. "My debut wouldn't be possible without them!!!"

"Aren't they dreamy?!"

And, as Arataki Itto would say, "and the crowd went WIIIIIILLLDDD!!!"

Oh, dear... You think you might faint.

…

…

…

"Phew…"

You were positively sweaty.

Nothing else mattered as your body slumped like a sack of potatoes onto the plush double bed of the 5wirl employee tour bus. Kazuha's producer humbly informed you that the more you travel, the more tolerable this nearly unbearable exhaustion gets. You believed them since Kazuha is renowned for being a quote-unquote "wandering samurai" and they had to go through multiple states to help him find some inspiration.  It feels odd that you're now taking their counsel when you're normally the one giving it to them.  If only you can take your own advice about taking things one step at a time. You can't, though. You were immediately strapped on an emotional rollercoaster of a life.

You barely lifted your arms from the bed and crawled for your phone. There was still a schedule you needed an alarm for, but you mostly took it to look at some cat pictures. Once you took it, however, it made you wish you just slept with abandon.

Everything you've done in your life has led you to this moment. And thankfully those experiences helped you develop thick skin cause goodness gracious–

"What is this?"

There were already multiple edits of Heizou– no surprise there– but it rarely had him as a solo performer.

It seems as though you two are the most iconic matching pair.

You closed your eyes. There are about a million expletives you wanted to scream– but your eyelids are barely keeping up. You yawned as you gently threw your phone away. 

Maybe you didn't realize it– maybe you did but you were too fatigued– but you're already entrapped in Mister Shikanoin's web. This was just the start– a little snowball to whatever he had in mind.

Because from then on, the world perceived you as Shikanoin Heizou's partner-in-crime and his alone.

Ansytea: THANK YOU FOR JOINING THE YANDERE!IDOL EVENT, DANDELION ANON <33

#tag: yan!idol 1k event #yandere shikanoin heizou #yandere heizou #yandere male #yandere #yandere genshin imagines #yandere genshin au #yandere genshin impact #yandere genshin #yandere genshin x reader #5wirl #yandere fanfiction #dandelion anon #ansy-writes

[doromoni]

Hunting Affections

Charles Leclerc x photographer!reader

Max Verstappen x photographer!reader

Part 6.

fanfic + smau fic

y/n faceclaim : Hwang Eunbi

warnings : Ferrari bashing ( Im so sorry , the plot needs it 🥹) , mentions of abuse.

A/N : UP FOR EDITING 🤍

<previous next>

Summary; Love is but a concept — just connections of neurons that take part in the brain … and yet, why is it the most painful when one falls alone?

or

Loving someone who doesn’t love you back , until you can’t no more. Maybe then they’ll actually know what they’ve lost.

Ignorance is medicated by knowledge and experience — but ignorance can only be cured when the problem is seen and acknowledged.

I used to think that I was just what you made of me, thinking that what I’ve accomplished was because of your influence. You were sensitive, I wouldn’t say that you were insecure, no— you just had the tendency of being self righteous and self serving , I grew in fear that I would’ve taken a piece of your spotlight, so I hid in your shadow … always so quiet and obedient.. But I guess , I now know that i was also at fault, I was ignorant of how you made me so dependent to you and your actions.

I liked to think that I grew apart from ignorance, being enlightened by my own wrong actions and thoughts. Braking the chains that hindered me from living life— the chains that you’ve shackled on me. Maybe, it wasn’t your intention to cage me and poison me with your affections… maybe you’re we’re ignorant , just like I once was. But your ignorance is still no excuse.

I could only hope that you find your own peace and fulfillment . Because I have found mine, and I will be selfish this time and I wont ever let go.

———

Majority of racing fans see Red Bull Racing as the evil power hungry villain of Formula 1 , that and all people in its team are hateful scums of the motorsport world . When in fact , they are the most kind and loving team I have had the chance to work with — where people who treat each other with respect and warmth no matter their organizational hierarchy . But do not get me wrong , the other teams aren’t bad … it’s just Red Bull has its business and employee relationships balanced to a tee.

Moreover, the issue of sexism had been rampant in the motor world, that is already a fact, yet I felt both seen and understood in the premises, in walls of the Red Bull Office… who would’ve known. My presence here was not for a diversity hire or some agenda. I was put here to actually innovate the Red Bull Racing brand and pull my own weight.

Never in my career in motorsports have I felt so appreciated and significant enough to be treated correctly , most specifically in this moment , that sadly I cannot say hadn’t happened before .

I was discreetly pulled from my meetings to talk face to face with Christian Horner. All the possible mistakes I could’ve made came rushing in to my mind. It hasn’t been a week since I’ve officially worked for the racing team , yet here I am walking towards the office of the CEO and team principal of Red Bull Racing.

With a deep breath , I gently knocked on the mahogany door that separated me from my possible dismissal.

“Christian, its Y/N”

“Oh , yes yes . Come in!” Christian’s voice echoed through the thick wood. Slowly opening the door , there I saw my boss with his back pressed on the plush leather material of his office chair ; a hand perched on the bridge of his nose as he signaled me to sit.

“ So , am I in trouble? Why did you need me?” I gave an awkward laugh as I tried to lighten the mood

“It’s about Max” Memories of the meetings and debriefings of relationship lectures from the Italian team came to mind. The lectures were harsh and are mostly one sided , as the fault was somehow always pushed to me ; even if I wasn’t entirely involved , but who could they have blamed? Charles? He was their golden boy — so the nearest person to point to was me. It was always me.

Just like muscle memory, my words instantly echoed.

“I’m so sorry “ slipped from my mouth.

My hands trembled as I waited for the unending reprimands to be more careful not to taint the team brand and all the crap that followed.

But, nothing came … Christian’s face contorted to a face of confusion and perplexity

“…For what? “ He then asked leaning a smidge forward ; his chair squeaking a little.

“Oh … uhm , you said something about Max? I’m assuming that I did something to dirty his image?” I said slowly, now also confused.

“What? No! Max’s image has never been better., Well not if we couldn’t cover this issue. I called you here because I wanted you to work closely with the PR head to cover a fight with Max and other drivers”

my brain stop working , as I heard the words Max , fight and other drivers, slowly connecting the dots ; my mouth spoke before I could realize

“WHAT?! Is Max okay?! How did that happen??”

“Max , is physically ok .It was after the press conference. It was between Max , Leclerc , Daniel and Oscar . We couldn’t get any of the drivers to talk … We were hoping that you could talk to Max.”

As I processed his words , the dilemma of professionalism and personal life came tumbling down and the distinction between the two are becoming blurry. The trauma of working for Ferrari with Charles once again came rushing back.

“Sir, are you asking me as an employee to interrogate my boyfriend? “ I asked , swallowing my nerves . Hoping that what I was thinking of was no where near the truth.

“No y/n , I’m asking for you to see If Max is alright and If he would like to sit out the practice races tomorrow … and if he does open up to you about the fight, then you are not obligated to tell us anything without Max’s consent” As Christian said those words , I let out a breath that I didn’t know I was holding in; the huge weight leaving my shoulders , because even if they had asked that of me I refuse to betray the person that I love for my career.

“Thank you, Christian. Where is Max right now?” I asked standing up .

“He’s currently inside his driver room — he’s not allowing anyone to enter. Well we hope you’d face a different outcome ” Christian said as he walked me out of his office.

I chuckled at his statement , a very typical Max Verstappen move. Not that he doesn’t want anyone to near him, he’s just afraid that he might say something wrong in the heat of the moment ; something that I’ve learned to handle in the years that i’ve known the Dutch Red Bull driver.

“Hey, Christian… thanks for not asking me to break Max’s trust” I said as I hesitated going out the door.

“Of course, kid. Max is family and now you are too.” He said as he ruffled my hair, earning a groan and a swat from me.

— — —

Pacing through the Red Bull motorhome in a mix of a jog and sprint , I made my way towards Max’s driver room.

And right outside the door was Mary : Max’s Pr manager, pacing back and forth as she spoke to someone on her phone.

Her eyes met mine , and in an instant she was in front of me

“ Oh thank goodness! , y/n! Finally ! you go talk to Max , please . I need to sort important matters about the issue, which of course will be debriefed in our meeting later… alright bye!”

And just like that , Mary was gone . And once again I am facing a mahogany door, only this time it was my boyfriend on the other side.

I raised my knuckles towards the door and gently knocked. Pressing my ear towards the door

“My love , it’s me . What happened? Can you open the door” I heard rustling, but there was no reply.

“Max, please open the door, love . Remember what we agreed on? Communication is the highest priority, please love, let’s talk”

then a soft click and a knob twisting was heard , as the door opened I was then pulled into his embrace . Max’s head buried in my neck , as I felt wetness and heard soft sniffles, Max was crying.

Suddenly alarmed with the severity of the situation, I instantly wrapped my arms around him , a hand softly brushing his hair ; saying soft reassuring words in his ear.

I continued to hold Max tightly in my embrace, as rouge tears slowly fell from my eyes. hurt filling my heart at the sight of the person I love breaking down. Briskly wiped the tears from my cheeks, I heard Max mumble.

“Max?” I asked as I gently maneuvered his face towards me , cradling his cheeks and wiping his tears away with the pad of my thumbs.

“I- I lost control, and I hit him. I punched Charles … I’m sorry. He was insulting you and I-i … it just happened. I was so angry … and I enjoyed doing it., am I really a monster?” His voice broke . A gasp fell out of my lips as my eyes fell to Max’s knuckles , they were bruised and bleeding from the cuts.

The conversation that we had about physical violence came to mind. Max had entrusted me with the knowledge of the extent to which his father had used physical violence to discipline him in his childhood. They’re relationship was better now… but the trauma still stays. Max had sworn to no longer resort to physical violence , he didn’t want anyone to go through what he had before.

“ Shhh, shhh Max, my love . It’s alright. Everything is okay , you’re okay. You didn’t enjoy hurting him , you fought for me, you protected me… that’s it my love, that’s it . You’re not a monster , you never were and you never will be. Max you’re the farthest from it . My love, I’m sorry that you’re facing this because of me. Im so sorry” I lifted the his busted hand and gently pressed a kiss to his wrist.

Guilt suddenly came twisting my stomach, bile rising to my throat. Because of me , Max had done what he hated the most. Im so sorry Max.

“N-no , I don’t regret protecting you , Schatz. I regret my way of doing it. You will always come first.” Max’s change of attitude gave me whiplash. Gone were the tears and vulnerability. The look of determination overcoming his entire feature, he looks so determined for what? Am not so sure.

“My love , what do you mean by that?” I asked as I searched the answer in his eyes.“The track , Liebling … the track” a grin now stretched his face.

“Max , please think straight .You don’t need to do anything “ I said as I once again raised a hand to his cheek softly.

“It’s my job to protect you, My Schatz” Max said , now pulling me closer in his embrace.

“Yeah , yeah … but who treats your wounds, huh? Big baby, please be safe” words muffling as Max pressed my head to his chest. The worry never leaving my mind.

y/n_stills.

Liked by redbullracing, maxverstappen1, schecoperez and 1,427,995 others

y/n_stills. I didn’t sign up for this @redbullracing I was promised 2 normal drivers. But good job on P1 and P2 on practice 3 I guess

tagged : @maxverstappen1 and @schecoperez

user1 not you using these pics 😭.

user2 y/n outing the red bull drivers. i love it!

user3 Keep em coming @y/n_stills.

y/n_stills. You’re welcome children

maxverstappen1 wow… thanks dear

y/n_stills. Love you 😘 @maxverstappen1

redbullracing you’ve signed the contract

y/n_stills. unfortunately :))

redbullracing excuse us?

y/n_stills. nothing ~ thanks for the snacks 😘

user1 y/n is continuing the beefing with motorteams saga 😭

schecoperez thanks y/n

y/n_stills. you are welcome checo 😇

danielricciardo the sarcasm is so nice 😇

maxverstappen1 you’re lucky you’re not here @danielricciardo

landonorris oh, are we bullying @y/n_stills.?

alexalbon another reason why I don’t regret leaving Redbull. 🫶

y/n_stills. I hate you all >:(( and @alexalbon? lily wants a word with you 😇

mclaren our drivers are well behaved 😇

y/n_stills. Im giving the fattest side eye. 👀

landonorris I am well behaved!

y/n_stills. This u?

landonorris … touché

danielricciardo what did I do??

y/n_stills. @danielricciardo fault by association

oscarpiastri but i’m good right? @y/n_stills

y/n_stills. You’re safe for now @oscarpiastri , little papaya… better watch your attitude 🤨

user4 y/n is not playing y’all HAHAHAHAH

user5 she ain’t holding back fr fr , the grid should watch their back 🤣

user6 everyone say thanks to y/n for giving us driver interactions.

user7 it’s great to see Redbull’s wacky side tbh~ they are not as evil as people make them to be .

user8 they literally instantly cut off their second drivers.

user9 @user8 woah thats statement is baseless, they do give them chances for the drivers to prove themselves… at the end of the day the goal is to win.

scuderiaferrari work for us again

y/n_stills. I don’t go back to my exes , sorry ☺️

user1 SIDE EYE

user2 did y/n really just 🫣

user3 THE TEA IS HOT , y/n your never escaping the rumors , girl.

mercedesamgf1 get it line! you already let her go once smh

user4 which ex 🤔 hmm ? Don’t be shy y/n , which ex.

y/n_stills. 10 mins

viewed by maxverstappen1 , charles_leclerc, landonorris, and 2,729,691 others

story replies

maxverstappen1 Thank you, Liebling! I love you 💙

y/n_stills. love you more 💙

maxverstappen1 lmao no.

y/n_stills. Emilian 🤨 Excuse you? Dafuk you mean , no?

maxverstappen1 no, because I love you more.

y/n_stills. Your love disgusts me 🙄

maxvestappen1 well then be ready to be disgusted for the rest of our lives.

y/n_stills. Woah wut?? Max?

y/n_stills. MAX?? Hello??? You don’t get to dip after that

y/n_stills. max max max max

y/n_stills. safe driving … luv u 💙

maxverstappen1 Love you more 💙

y/n_stills. ugh I hate you >:((

oscarpiastri make em chow their last ka-chow?

y/n_stills. You’re too young to understand top tier humor , oscar

oscarpiastri I’m literally 1 year younger than Lando and 3 years younger than you

y/n_stills. Yes and still a baby

oscarpiastri Wowwwww. Ghee and you’re old, mom

y/n_stills. Watch your mouth, young man 🤨🤨

oscarpiastri sorry mom

y/n_stills. That’s better! Good luck with qualifying ,little papaya 🧡 drive safe

oscarpiastri thank you 🧡

charles_leclerc seriously y/n , stop it

y/n_stills. seriously charles, move on.

charles_leclerc do you honestly not miss me at all?

y/n_stills. nope, so stop whatever you’re doing and be happy with what you have.

charles_leclerc you’re just confused

y/n_stills. Dude? You’re the one who’s confused . For the last time, leave me aloneeeeeee . I swear I’ll block you and file a restraining order.

f1wags

Liked by user1 , user2 , user3 and 168,281 others

f1wags Y/N L/N spotted with Victoria Verstappen today in the F1 Paddock! But the Red Bull Senior Designer is not in a Red Bull Uniform , I see. It looks like y/n is a full time wag today and she is off duty. Go support yo man, girl! 😏

Y/N L/N was a no show today at FP3 , which had fans curious and speculating of the photographer’s absence on the grid . But the curiosity of fans are quickly satisfied, as it was reported that y/n is indeed within the confines of the Red Bull motorhome offices , catering to her responsibilities to Red Bull. Nevertheless, she had shown support by posting congratulatory memes of the 2 Red Bull drivers on her instagram account.

Moreover, it looks like we will be in fact seeing more of y/n l/n but this time within the confines the Red Bull Garage; as a support of Max Verstappen and the whole Red Bull crew!

user1 it’s great to see that y/n takes her job seriously.

user2 we do love a boss bitch

user3 Red Bull had hit the home run with y/n fr fr

user4 a professional queen 🤍

user5 she supports Max both emotionally and professionally, we love to see it

user6 you know what I love the most? Right after her work , she said bye to the uniform

user7 I mean, no one can stop a fashion icon 😎

user8 she’s so extra , I love it HAHAHAHAH

user9 Im in love with her jacket! Someone please tell me where to get it pls pls

user10 Brunello Cucinelli … and the price hurts 😀

user 11 I always forget that they are literally loaded

“ So everybody , welcome back to Formula 1 . It’s a sunny day , no rain forecasted for today’s qualifying. Teams are stowing away their slicks and wet tires and our drivers are all at standby in their cars as they wait for the firsts qualifying session to officially start.”

“ I must say, Crofty . Our drivers are quite tense today during FP3, and even yesterday during the practice sessions; specially our drivers in red .The Ferrari Garage not particularly happy with Charles Leclerc’s rookie mistake during the 4th turn — almost causing a collision with his own teammate Carlos Sainz.”

“Ferrari was not having any of it! the drivers were called to pit instantly— was this another lapse in strategy? Or perhaps a driver error? I cannot tell, the issue was not brought up to the FIA… I mean it’s their own teammate. Very aggressive on Leclerc’s part, I might say”

“ And do you know who’s also driving aggressively during the free practices? Max Verstappen and Checo Perez — I believe that Christian Horner is loosening the reigns on his drivers. There were no radio calls to the drivers when both cars were given warnings for impeding Leclerc’s car during free practice 2 yesterday “

“ Also , another impending incident had also happened to Charles Leclerc, only this time it was by the Mclarens, By rookie Oscar Piastri and Lando Norris .They were also only left of with a warning by the FIA , as the both Mclaren were bound to enter the pits.”

“Wow , wow, The FIA is very lenient with the teams this Grand Prix… but what an unlucky session for Charles Leclerc, They could only hope that his chances in qualifying would be better”

“ First one to go out of the garage is the 7x Champion Lewis Hamilton , and not long after is George Russell. Both Mercedes are out of their garages and is waiting at pit-lane exit. Along with Fernando Alonzo’s Aston Martin.”

“And out goes Charles Leclerc’s Ferrari and Max Verstappen goes next, last year’s pole position and winner”

“Will he be able to do it again? Will Max Verstappen be able to grab another pole and another win?”

Max’s eyes never left the car infront of him , his gloved hands flexing on the Red Bull steering wheel. Body fueled with adrenaline

Mind zeroing on the red Ferrari, til the radio sound came on and the voice of GP sounded,

(Radio conversation are italicized)

; Max we are with you. Do what you need to do;

;Thanks guys, will do. I’ll keep it clean, tell checo I said thank you;

;Thanks Max, will relay your message to checo;

Max’s eyes came to view the Ferrari’s side mirror , to see Charles already looking at Him ; eyes glaring with rage. Max scoffed , lifting his visor — staring back with no fear nor regret.

“Oh, a radio from Max to his engineers, “say thank you to perez”. What could that mean?”

“And that starts the first qualifying session for this week’s Grand Prix!”

***

“ 17 minutes in Q1 and all cars are out of their garage with Lando Norris is currently leading and Piastri 0.100 seconds behind his team mate. 1 minutes left in Q1”

“Oohh! And Charles Leclerc spins out to the gravel… the wing might’ve taken some damage on that turn. It looks like the car is beached! Let’s look at it in another angle .Ferrari could only hope that Leclerc’s time will get him to Q2”

;MERDE!! THE CAR IS UNDERIVABLE!

; You’re pushing the car so recklessly!! Go back to the garage!;

;Fix this, Oversteers like shit…;

“ And that’s the checkered flag! Sargeant, Zhou, Magnussen, Hulkenburg and Ocon . And that is it for Haas and both Alphatauris are in q2! Leclerc barely making it! “

As Q1 had ended, both Red Bulls are called back to the garage and asses damages.

;That’s P3 , P3 , Max. Don’t push the car … let’s conserve the tires for now , Leclerc has been beached;

A scoff escaped Max’s lips.

;Copy;

Heat, sweat, the roar of the engine and enraged shouts filled the Ferrari garage. Charles Leclerc was seen in an argument with his engineers and mechanics — tension within one side of the garage grew rampant as the mechanics scramble to replace the front wing of the car.

Q2 was not any better for Ferrari, barely qualifying both drivers to Q3. Having everyone confused at the driver difference — as Sainz qualified in P4 while Leclerc qualifying P9.

“And welcome back to Formula 1 , We are starting Q3! Verstappen , Perez , Leclerc , Sainz, Norris, Piastri, Alonzo, Hamilton, Russell and Stroll battling for pole position”

“And that’s 12 minutes on the clock! And Half of the cars are on the circuit”

“ Hamilton sets the fastest 1st sector and 3rd sector , while Piastri sets the fastest 2nd sector!”

***

“And that is the checkered flag! The drivers have 1 one more lap for qualifying!”

“LECLERC TAKES THE FASTEST TIME! That’s P1, and Sainz crosses the line! That’s P2 and P3 for Oscar Piastri!— an amazing drive by the Ferraris!”

Everyone was tense at the red bull garage as they wait for Max to cross the finish line.

;Max , your currently in P7 , P7 , thats P7. You can do one last lap , send it Max;

;Copy, copy, where’s Leclerc?”

;Currently P1;

Max’s fingers flexed , a smirk growing in his face.

“Max makes the fastest 1st sector, and the 2nd sector…. and that’s the fastest 3rd sector!! And max crosses the checkered flag! ”

“AND THAT’S P1 FOR MAX VERSTAPPEN ! MAX TAKES POLE AGAIN! “

; What position was that?;

;That’s P1! P1! You got pole Max. Nice driving!;

; Amazing job everyone , let’s do well in the race;

“And that Qualifying! P1 for Max Verstappen, P2 for Charles Leclerc, and P3 for Carlos Sainz!”

The three drivers parked their cars to their respective places . The spaniard came rushing to hug Max , excitedly patting the Dutch driver’s back while the words “great driving” and chuckles were exchanged. The spanish driver parted from Max, then nudging the pole sitter towards the car of Charles .

The 1st Ferrari driver was getting out his car, clearly fuming. Max went near the Monegasque driver only to whisper “That’s for Y/n”, then moving away not once looking back.

“Max! Max! Congratulations on getting pole today! How does it feel to be in pole in this circuit again?“ Max went to answer the question

“Getting pole was amazing , specially this one… this holds a significant meaning to me personally.Today had been great , the car was amazing to drive ; and the team was as cooperative as ever.”

“Also Max, People had noticed that you were particularly motivated today? Is there a particular reason for that?”

“Well it’s always a motivation to win for the team , for all their hard work and all the time they spent making sure that the car was to its best. Also my friends and family are here to support… and of course my girlfriend who’s in the garage cheering me on right now”

Max answered smoothly with a practiced smile , as Leclerc was fuming from his peripheral vision.

“Ah ,of course! Y/N! A dear friend of ours here at Sky Sports! And lastly , any words for tomorrow’s race , Max?”

“Winning is always the goal , so yeah , We will try our best to keep the adding wins to the record. Thank you”

Max turned his back to the camera , handing the microphone to the Monegasque Ferrari driver — a face splitting derisive grin plastered on his face further infuriating the Ferrari driver.

“Thank you Max! We now have Charles Leclerc here with us! So Charles, how does P2 feel?”

Charles wanted nothing more than to storm out and leave the interview , as his face grew redder by the second .

“Well , its not better than pole. To be honest I’m very disappointed with the results.”

“Still an amazing effort for the team! That’s P2 for you and P3 from your teammate, right? Basing from the previous races, Ferrari had brought serious upgrades”

“Yes , but it is not enough for pole. But we will do our outmost best to beat Red Bull in tomorrow’s race. That I am sure. Thank you” and with that Charles went storming back to the Ferrari garage

“Oh! Uhm.. thanks Charles! Next we have another Ferrari Driver, Carlos Sainz on P3! So how do the upgrades feel Carlos?”

“I personally thought that the car was great compared to the last car during the last Grand Prix… the upgrades worked. We are very far from the Red Bull level of machinery, but we are getting there ….”

y/n_stills.

Liked by maxverstappen1, redbullracing, oscarpiastri , and 728,627 others

y/n_stills. Another pole for you , love! Amazing driving as usual. Couldn’t be prouder 💙

P.s you didn’t have to show off, just because I’m here 🙄

tagged : @maxvertappen1

maxverstappen1: I mean that pole was for you :))

y/n_stills. 🥺🥺🥺

redbullracing a motivated Max is a scary Max

y/n_stills. Boy you said it 🥵

maxverstappen1 🫣🫣🫣

landonorris ew, keep it in your pants

y/n_stills. go cry somewhere else , norris ~ we are happy here.

comments are limited

—SPORTS HUB DAILY—Formula 1 driver Charles Leclerc sparks fire within the Ferrari Garage

Article by Joseph Bens

Ferrari Driver Charles Leclerc was seen to be having a heated argument with his team, despite qualifying 2nd for the race this Sunday. The team statement was that they are happy with both of their drivers’ performances during the qualifying. According to Sainz , the car was very pliable and relatively easy to handle— and so we can rule out Leclerc having major issues with the car.

The Monegasque was reported to be unusually touchy and erratic based on fan reports as he was very adamant not to sign merchandise and interact with fans. The usually friendly driver was then seen storming off the circuit with alleged girlfriend scurrying in tow .

An inside source had tipped that an scuffle had happened between the drivers last Thursday, after the driver press conference , between Leclerc and Verstappen . The details of the fight were unknown, but it was said that Verstappen came storming out of the room — followed by Daniel Ricciardo, Oscar Piastri and a bloodied Charles Leclerc. The FIA not taking action as the incident was said to be just that, an incident and the drivers involved has refused to release a statement.

The Red Bull driver and the Ferrari driver are bringing heat on and off track! And we cannot wait for it to unfold. Tomorrow’s race would be one to watch indeed!

———

——— F1 Breaking ———

Ferrari appeals for FIA investigation towards Red Bull Racing and McLaren Racing for Impeding and possible brake checks

#f1 #formula 1 #max verstappen #red bull racing #ferrari #formula one #cl16 x reader #cl16 #cl16 imagine #cl16 x you #mv1 x reader #mv1 #charles leclerc #lando norris #op81 #f1 fic #f1 2023 #f1 imagine #scuderia ferrari #mclaren

[faela404]

☆ The Library ☆

kazuha x gn! reader

prompt: - you and kazuha attend the same university, him being a english lit major and you being a person in stem😎 your paths never crossed until that day in the library…

*this is an smau so please do expect a lot of twitter posts and messages to read, there will be proper writing too but, it will mostly be that!!*

warning! this is written from a narrative perspective as opposed to one of the characters like always, angst to fluff :)

masterlist - prev | next

☆ the library. ☆

the vibrations of the large oak door resounded throughout the old building. it was late, quiet, not even a soul to whisper.

aside from our two lovers, our twin flames, roaming the darkened halls in hopes of finding their missing half.

one, lacking of hope

the other, hopeful

how can two beings so different be so perfect for one another?

his white locks glistened against the focused light of the lanterns strung up across the building, he was a man on a mission. a man looking for them.

sniffle

it was a faint disturbance in the otherwise quiet atmosphere of the halls. how could he ignore it? he listened closer, holding his breath, anything to figure out who or what it was

sniffle

there it was again.

crying.

he began to move closer towards the noise, aiming to find the source.

and luckily, or maybe even sadly, he did.

for in the corner of the raggedy old library, sat the person he was looking for, curled up upon themselves, crying into their own knees.

his heart felt as though it had shattered into a million pieces, for what could be worse than finding the one you love, crying, because of you.

“y/n?” he whispers towards their shaking body.

it stops. everything stops. nothing moves. almost as if the whole world is at a standstill, waiting for their reply.

“hi” it’s quiet, a bit hoarse, but there. they’ve replied.

slowly, the young man crouched done towards his old friend, taking a seat next to their frail form.

“can we talk about it please?”

one sentence. one sentence that could both ruin and fix this all, depending on their answer.

a few beats of silence followed the lingering question.

one beat

two beats

three beats

before finally, the crying figure, offered a response.

“i suppose”

finally, after all this time apart, after all this waiting, he could finally hear their voice again, perhaps even hear the laugh that made his heart soar.

“but first” they continued, and he listened.

“where were you? we was meant to meet out there, you was late.” it seemed as though they were holding back from saying something.

perhaps they shouldn’t have held back.

“i was held back by my professor” the young man replied.

“i was unfocused in class, i-“ he stopped, should he really continue his sentence. would they really want to hear this?

well he can’t make if any worse.

“i was too busy thinking about you. what i should say to you, how i can ever apologise for the wrong i have caused you” he whispered ever so slightly, reaching out his hands towards his love.

after all, they need to know what it is they do to him.

“you mean so much to me, y/n” he continued

“more than i’m sure you could ever even imagine, i think of you all day and all night, at all corners and ever second, i am thinking of you. i am thinking of your smile, of your laugh, your voice, and the beautiful words you speak to me. i think of your humour and how you may think, of questions i would like to ask you, things i need to know about you, you plague my every thought, y/n. and i wouldn’t change it for the world”

his friend stares up towards their hope, towards the man they fell for. their eyes travelling down towards his lips, wondering how they may taste against their own, how he may hold them. but, one thought plays through their mind on a loop.

one that started this all.

they pull their hands from his grasp before averting their eyes towards the ground. they wipe a few stray tears from their cheeks, before whispering.

“what about your girlfriend?”

silence fills the room once more. though y/n cannot sit in silence, for y/n knows that silence can only ever be bad

“i don’t think she’d appreciate you telling another person that”

his breath hitched. confusion coursed through his veins, though he knew that he alone would not figure this out, and the longer he waited to answer, the more skittish his love got.

so he replied with the one thought that was consistent in his mind.

“who?”

now it was their turn to be confused. their head shot up in shock, how could he forget his own girlfriend.

“that girl you was with outside the science block a while back, you kept implying you wanted me to meet her, your girlfriend. i was hurt that you felt as though you couldn’t even mention that you had one, after all-“ they stopped.

they’re already digging themselves a hole, whats the harm in making it a little bigger

“i thought we were close, i thought we had something” their eyes drifted back to the ground as fresh tears blocked their line of sight

they didn’t want to hear his answer, to them, it could only be bad news.

he faltered but, quickly recovered.

“you mean kokomi?”

so that’s her name huh?

wait.

they recognise that name, kazuha has spoken that name to them before. but, when?

“she’s my roommate, y/n. she’s been gone for the term, so i figured i’d finally introduce you two, after all, she was who i turned to when i needed to talk to someone about you.”

that’s where they’ve heard it. at the beginning of the term, during their movie date in kazuha’s dorm. he told her all about kokomi.

“are your roommates okay with me being here right now?” i turned to him at he led me towards the living area

“oh they’re fine with it, i mean gorou and kokomi aren’t even here today”

as they had sat on the sofa, they had questioned who kokomi may be, and that was when they realised just how wrong they were.

“kokomi is gorou’s girlfriend, i swear that man follows her around like a lost puppy”

their eyes drift back up to the young man.

“kokomi, as in gorou’s girlfriend?” they asked, they had to make sure they were remembering correctly.

“yeah, that’s the one” he confirmed

their whole world came crashing down, all this time, all this time they had been jealous and upset, over a small misunderstanding? over something that would’ve been fixed had they just answered kazuha the first time he asked for them to meet kokomi?

“kazuha, i am so sor-“ they began, but was quickly cut off, by none other, than the man they was trying to apologise too.

“don’t apologise, y/n” he collected their hands back into his own.

“i would’ve been upset too if i had thought what you did” he pulled himself closer to their form, cautiously raising a hand towards their cheek. wiping away their tears.

“we are close, y/n. we do have something” he confirmed for his love, their face beginning to redden.

“i would like to show you, just how close we are, my dear” his eyes flickered down to their lips, “if you will let me?”

a/n - PFFT- i’m nice but, i aint that nice. ya’ll got the fluff that you wanted back, but, if you wanna see what lover boy over there means, you gotta wait a week, sorryyyyy :P

i’m kidding, i love you guys but i did have to end it there so that i acc had something to write in the next chapter-

taglist - OPEN! @kazuhaprnt @ryhie @scaraapologist @thissoulisnotok @kazuhalvrr @rifran @sleepyhamster1001 @mccnstruck @micahmxi @whipped-for-fictionals @sashiette @kozumieee @lazy-sanns @mangobee @lez-zuha @kaoyamamegami @hedonesstuff @oliver-s-worlds @phoenix-eclipses @lisaslittle-helper @serafinaspost @richxelle @ansaturn @neigesprincess @atlaincorrect @ilovekazuha271 @obeythehemmings @4leyn3 @giggles8899 @samyayaya @zomzomb1e @duckyyyx @luminescent-light @scarletttcroww @jasxiao2317 @kanaqwqbear @floating-inthevoid @forget-artemis @fishformaira @hangecanweholdhands @eurekatanya @tamikahoshiko @jan-penakulu @anon-who-cried

bold= blog not found

#faela404~🍓🍰writes #faela404~ 📕🍰the library #genshin fluff #genshin impact #kazuha x reader #genshin imagines #genshin au #kazuha #smau #genshin smau #genshin kaedahara kazuha #genshin kaedehara #kaedehara x reader #kaedehara kazuha #kaedehara x you #genshin kazuha #kazuha x reader fluff #kazuha x you #kazuha x gn reader

[supernovafics]

✧∘ଂ ࿐ ཾ 𝑳𝑬𝑻𝑻𝑬𝑹 𝑺𝑬𝑽𝑬𝑵. ✭・.・✫・゜・。.

pairing: ex-bestfriend!steve x fem!reader

word count: 686 words

warnings: explicit language

series masterlist | last part — next part

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

❝ 𝒕𝒆𝒍𝒍 𝒎𝒆 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒚𝒐𝒖'𝒓𝒆 𝒔𝒕𝒊𝒍𝒍 𝒎𝒊𝒏𝒆. 𝒕𝒆𝒍𝒍 𝒎𝒆 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒘𝒆'𝒍𝒍 𝒃𝒆 𝒋𝒖𝒔𝒕 𝒇𝒊𝒏𝒆. ❞

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Dear Steve,

It’s honestly hard to say for sure if I don’t have feelings for you anymore. The obvious answer should be no since we haven’t talked to each other in so long. But, full transparency, there was no moment where I realized that I no longer liked you in that way. Instead, the feelings just got buried deep down and pushed to the side because there was nowhere else for them to go.

I think it actually would be better if I didn’t like you anymore because all I want for us is to at least be friends again. I just wanna be able to talk to you again, about nothing but also everything, sit in your car again, watch a movie with you that you’d probably hate again.

Quite literally do anything with you again. And I especially don’t want to mess things up this time around. 

Anyway, let’s talk about the mundane shit I would be telling you, or probably would have already told you, if we were actually talking right now.

I definitely would have told you that I am still in California and I’m currently going to college here. 

Also, I’m a film major, which may come as a surprise, but also maybe not? My movie obsession was already pretty strong in Hawkins, and it only became so much more serious here, so in my mind, it was pretty inevitable. I am also (sadly) minoring in accounting to make my parents somewhat happy. 

I honestly don’t know exactly what I want to do in film just yet, but I’m working on a set right now for this indie movie, and that’s really cool. I’m only getting coffees and lunches for everyone and doing other busy work, but I still love the environment.

I also live with the most insane roommate in the world (in hindsight, I should have never taken her number off one of those boards where people offer their tutoring and dog-walking services). But, the apartment we have is really close to a beach so it makes the shitty roommate situation slightly okay. The beach honestly reminds me a lot of the one we went to that first summer. The boardwalk has the same energy and there’s a photo booth right outside a crappy arcade. But, the ocean doesn’t feel scary here. 

I remember that summer we both had been too nervous to get in the water. Even though we’d swim in your pool practically all of the time, there was just something so daunting about those waves.  

This beach is different, so much calmer, I think you’d like it just as much as I do. The first time I stepped foot in the sand there, I thought of you. 

It’s always the most random of things that remind me of you. And even the most mundane things too. Like, over a week ago I was walking to class and I saw some guy wearing those pair of Nikes that you used to wear religiously in middle school. And I softly laughed because I remembered how many times I had begged you to get rid of those sneakers because of how destroyed they were and because they smelled so bad. But, you would always tell me that you could never get rid of them because they were your “lucky pair,” I never understood what you meant by that, so I would always just roll my eyes at that response. Eventually, you grew out of them though, thank God. 

I was gonna ask if you still think about me sometimes, but I don’t know if I wanna hear your answer because it could so easily be no. 

That’s probably the worst part about writing these letters. I have no idea where your head’s at with everything that happened. 

Maybe you’ve already somehow gotten your own closure with everything, so everything I wrote is pointless to you. Or maybe what we were is so far in the past for you that none of this even matters to you anymore.

There are so many fucking possibilities. And that nerve-wracking thought makes me really not wanna send these. 

Sincerely,

Y/N

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

next part

#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington smut #steve harrington angst #steve harrington fic #steve harrington x fem!reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x y/n #stranger things fic #steve harrington series #stranger things imagine #stranger things fluff #stranger things smut

[literaticat]

I thought the main appeal of scholastic (YA & mg is all I know about) was the fair component? I've heard from several scholastic authors the vast, vast majority of their sales came from the fair and there wasn't much done beyond that. As in, really nothing.

So assuming you are a marginalized author signing with Scholastic, it's likely the sales will be majorly different post this decision to let folks opt out of books with marginalized rep, right? I find that deeply concerning and certainly worth a boycott of the publisher as a whole. Or am I not seeing some other factor here?

While it's true that Scholastic can move a lotta paper through their clubs and fairs -- Scholastic clubs and fairs doesn't necessarily pick up every book that Scholastic Press publishes -- and Scholastic Clubs and Fairs carry more than just Scholastic books.

(For example, I just looked at the random first page of the Scholastic Clubs YA section, and while there are Scholastic books there, I also spy titles from Harper, S&S, Disney, Viz Media, Abrams...)

I totally understand being concerned and irate about this bone-headed "opt-out policy." I am, too. But I also know that Scholastic Clubs and Fairs has a looooong legacy of making sort of mealy-mouthed and lousy "try to please everyone" decisions -- that for sure isn't new. I mean I get WHY -- they have accounts across the political and socio-economic spectrum and they don't want to lose money -- but if course, you can't please everyone, and when you try to please everyone, it ultimately pleases no-one.

It ALSO makes me beyond-words angry that this policy actually exists (VERY SADLY) because the environment in some school districts and states has gotten so dramatic of late that teachers and librarians are being targeted, harassed, fired and sued over diverse books, and that a handful of complete assholes are making it impossible for educators to share great books with their classrooms, that teachers jobs are being threatened because certain books *exist* on school property, etc.

I think there's better ways for Scholastic to deal with it, probably, and I'm guessing that they are currently scrambling to figure those ways out. (Or not! I don't know! But I AM pretty sure that they are scared as hell -- in my mind I'm picturing a bunch of clubs and fairs people cowering behind Clifford the Big Red Dog as both liberals and conservatives wave pitchforks and torches at them. CLIFFORD, DO SOMETHING!)

So yeah. I dunno, I do think that the Clubs/Fairs business is at some kind of crossroads right now, and yes, it could be that how they work will end up changing even more, and that might affect author's bottom lines. It's definitely something to watch out for and be mindful of. So far I haven't seen dramatic dips in Clubs/Fairs income for my authors, but I also haven't been doing like a *forensic analysis* of it, nor can I see what the big picture numbers look like.

As far as a boycott, what I'd ask anyone to consider is, what does a boycott of Scholastic look like? And who is it helping?

Is it that you/the public aren't buying any Scholastic books? When they DO publish loads of marginalized authors? You'd certainly be making an impact on those authors, but not a positive one. In fact, I'd argue that the book banners who are behind all this chaos would LOVE for you to boycott Scholastic. They are, in fact, URGING people to boycott Scholastic. I've seen material from certain right wing groups about how Scholastic and their authors are degenerates that literally made me sick to my stomach with fear for my authors' physical and mental well being. I definitely don't want to do what THOSE people want us to do.

Is it that you, as a parent or school administrator or whatever, decide not to do a Scholastic book fair at your school? I get that, and as far as I'm concerned, as long as you are doing that for nice, wholesome reasons, like you want MORE diverse books in your school and you'd rather support a local independent bookstore who can bring great books in, it sounds like a fine idea to me. (If you are doing it because you don't want kids to have access to ANY BOOKS or something, well, that's gross as hell!)

Is it that you, as an author, are asking your agent not to submit to Scholastic? That's totally within your rights, and it's perfectly OK -- but also, they DO have some great editors, and I think it's also perfectly OK to not want to throw the baby out with the bathwater, so if you DON'T want to avoid them, I don't think that's a problem.

I'll be watching how all of this continues to play out, and I'll be watching the royalty statements and such, and if there comes a point where there IS a huge dip in income or something like that, where it seems like "OK, they are not a viable publishing partner" -- that's another conversation. But so far we aren't there, that I can see. I reserve the right to change my mind!

In the meantime, I URGE YOU, VOTE, especially in local elections -- people just don't vote for School Board and such, so the only people who ARE reliably voting are the terrible people, which is how they get so much power. If you can, give money to organizations that are fighting the good fight against censorship and protecting librarians and educators. And if you have it in you, get involved with your local library board, school board, PTA, or whatever you have to do to BE IN THE ROOM when these psychos are trying to ban books and take away children's freedom to read.

[oshimee]

The whole Chan’s room ordeal, I am sad too, but people are acting as if Chan is gone, he is not gone, he is still around, he is busy preparing for the VMAS and supposedly another major comeback within the next few months, and personally? If I was in Chan’s shoes right now, I would be embarrassed by fans bombarding my company, blaming them for not being able to do Chans room anymore. When in reality it was OUR ( not saying all STAYS, I know there are some STAYS that have common sense and would not bombard the company, mass tweeting, emailing them) fault that we no longer have Chans room, it was our actions as a fandom as to why we don’t have it anymore, not only are you guys doing way more harm than good, but don’t be surprised if there are way more things we miss out on due to our actions.

I am embarrassed for the newer gen fans of K-pop because they sadly do not know any better, once again I am not saying all. But younger fans think that they have this need to speak up for idols, to protect them, etc. Skz are grown ass men who know how to protect themselves.

Lastly here is a BIG HUG ❤️

#thank you for coming to this ted talk #this has to be said #stray kids #skz #bone princess rambles 💀

[hrhmiat]

Princess Diaries 3 Movie....

Can we get a cannon version of The Princess Diaries 3 because I really want to see Mia and Michael as adults falling in love again! Think about it.... They've texted a few times throughout the year, especially on birthdays and holidays. (Michael still sends her dorky Gifs he creates) and they send gifts (like Star Wars or Buffy-related things, ya know, still being the flat-out nerds they are). It isn't weird that they haven't seen each other because Lilly always goes to Genovia to see Mia, never the way around. Michael is super busy because he still crates Pavlov Surgical and could never find time to go to Genovia (especially since he still has feelings for Mia and doesn't want to make things complicated.) So this is how the movie starts..... they run into each other at a charity function in NYC, the first time Mia's been back in years, but this is a major event that she really feels passionate about. Little did she know Michael would also be there. (We don't find out till later that Lilly told Michael that Mia was going to be in town for that event, and instead of waiting for dinner at their house, he had to see her) Then, after the event, he asks if she wants to grab a pie, but Mia says she's really jet lagged, but maybe tomorrow? We see Mia go back to her room and just start swooning all over again and telling herself they are just friends and he's not into her like that. She's talking to herself and Joe (b/c sadly we cannot add Lars this late in the game in the movies and I do like Joe) Tells the princess words of wisdom and it calms her.

UNTIL Michael texts Mia, "It was great seeing you tonight. Looking forward to catching up with you tomorrow." Mia doesn't know how to respond and deletes several texts until She says, "It was lovely running into you! I am also looking forward to tomorrow! Night!" She thinks how lame she is and wants to call Lilly, but IT'S HER BROTHER! So she settles down and gets some sleep..... NOT The next day, she's sleep-deprived and meets her grandmother for brunch. Clarisse sees the bags under Mia's eyes and how fidgety she's being and asks her what is going on. Mia explains, and Clarisse warns Mia about dating too soon after breaking it off with (what his face) and that she is royal and should have the highest standards for the men she dates. (but then mentions she has been keeping tabs on Pavlov Surgical and how marvelous and innovative his company is.) After brunch, Lilly calls Mia to see if she is free to hang out in the afternoon, and unfortunately, Mia has to go to something, but a rain check? So Lilly asks how about the evening..... then Mia fesses up and tells Lilly she has dinner plans with her brother. Lilly acts all interested and asks her what they are going to do. Mia tries to be SUPER casual about it. And Lilly drops the conversation. We see Mia enter the pizza place where Michael has already secured them a seat, and he waves over to her. Joe greets Michael, and they shake hands and exchange words, then go across the room to sit down. Michael goes to order pizza and comes back. It a not a date where it's never ending, and they end up walking in Central Park at night until Michael walks her to her hotel, and they get so close to kissing, but they don't. Not sure how to end the movie, but this is just the start of where I thought it would be a good meet cute again.

#the princess diaries #Princess Diaries 3 #Movie #movie version #disney #michael moscovitz #mia thermopolis #lily moscovitz #meg cabot #my own version

[andoqin]

List of dramas that I am watching or want to watch, just for personal record reasons:

Cdramas:

The ingenious one (36/36): this drama has blown me away so far with its incredibly nuanced and sharp writing, its love stories between all the major couples and the absolutely magnificent cinematography. FINISHED verdict: HIGHLIGHT drama of the year for me so far. Smart, engaging, complicated, peak romance of all sorts, just what the doctor ordered tbh (overly long review can be found in my tags). 9.5

Chang Feng Du (40/40): I did not realise how close to the end I was. This drama is very pleasant and I adore our mains, but sadly except for a few highlights (the early beating gjs put on himself, the destruction of the gu family and the aftermath, the battle for wangdu) the writing hasn’t been able to keep the narrative tension up which is sad. FINSHED verdict: Very pretty and engaging in the beginning kinda loses me in the second half and then fizzles out emotionally, doesn't crash and burn but doesn't exactly stick the landing either 6.5

Gone with the rain (10/30): adore the gremlin4gremlin couple and from the spoilers I’ve seen not gonna adore much else

An ancient love song (1/16): incredible first episode and with only 30 min per ep and 16 eps in total this is gonna be a short fun ride I hope ( with lots of angst and tears naturally).

Here we meet again (18/32): started this for Wu Qian playing to type and Zhang BinBin being pretty but oh boy I’m struggling I just don’t care about the conflicts and in s surprising twist, I like the flashbacks to high school much much more, which is very funny if you think about the fact that the reason I started liking wu qian in the first place was because of her show stealing performance in the flashbacks of My Sunshine. I’ve been promised kisses in the near future so I’m gonna hold out till then but this might end up another drop.

Hidden Love (5/25): this one promises to be v sweet and kinda short but oh my god I have so many dramas on my plate rn so this might end up the first drop.

Till the end of the moon (22/40): I think I watched ep 1 when it started but then I got busy and now I am just staring at gifsets and crying, it’s definitely on the list to watch tho.

Heroes (6?/38): I started this a while ago, was really into it and then got busy… dammit. I might just rewatch the beginning so I can remember most of the set up for sure but man the visuals on this were so good, aaaa liu yuning.

Blood of youth (0/40): the last 12 months really have spoiled us with interesting looking wuxia dramas and this one is definitely on the list, I have been gifbaited once again.

Ray of light (0/30): usually hs dramas are something I avoid, but because I will not be watching the longest promise, for reasons, and bc @storge is a gifmaking temptress, this has made it on the list.

The legend of anle (0/39): Lmao trust YOUKU to screw up the release with bad subs only 1 ep even for vips and no released schedule… but at least I can put this on the backburner for now. Lmao should have known not to trust a youku dilreba drama, the tl has soundingly spoken and I'm gonna avoid this.

Ancient Detective (0/24): I was recced this by a friend when I mentioned my love for wuxia dramas, and since it’s almost shockingly short for a cdrama it’s on the list. EDIT: this got @purplehanfus seal of approval so it is def going up the list and since it's complete I'll probably at least watch it before the ongoing ones.

Butterflied love (0/22): see I barely made this post and already forgot about the screencap that got me started on writing it, the screencapa look great, but the drama is on mango, so who knows when I’ll truly be able to watch this

When I fly towards you (0/24): Well, I wasn't interested bc modern youth drama, but then I heard it described as "updated It Started with a Kiss" and... I'm weak? ISWAK was pretty much my crack gateway into asian dramas and while IDK if i could rewatch it today, something in me will always love this kind of story. Maybe it's like a quick palate cleanser in between since apparently eps are only about 30 mins.

Mysterious Lotus Casebook(0/40): CHENG YIIIII, in a possibly bromantic role? Or maybe het romance, I'll take it all. Plus I've already seen he's bleeding copious amounts as per his contract, so that's most of the checklist done.

Lost You Forever (0/??): because nature abhors a vacuum I apparently must have?? A minimum to watch pile and this actually and genuinely looks good??? A Yang Zi drama in 2023??? The mind boggles. Anyway I've been reading the recaps with delight, and am def going to watch this when part two airs in a couple of months but until then I have a thankful reprieve...

Kdramas:

See you in my 19th life (4/12): since kdramas release so slowly this is on the backburner but it does have some great gifsets that keep enticing meee

King the land (2/16): I am watching this for junho but it is kinda hard bc I have so much else on my plate and while I don’t mind a classic romcom type story I feel I need a bit more of an emotional hook

Story of the nine-tailed 1938 (0/16): so so many gorgeous and hilarious gifsets so little time. I loved season one so so much and the fact that this focuses on the brotherly relationship?? Extremely smart writing decisions were made!

The red sleeve (0/16): I blame @dangermousie for this she keeps reblogging angsts junho on my dash and I am but god’s weakest warrior.

Love tractor (0/8): gay himbo farmboy falls in love?? You bet this is on the list

Lady durian (0/?): ok this is only on the list for crack reasons but, daughter in law is in love with mother in law and both women are like 40+ truly kdramas have entered a new era and I kinda wanna be here for that

EDIT: Revenant (0/12): Kim Tae Ri in a spooky drama? POSSIBLY POSSESSED KIM TAE RI??? how could i forget to put her on this list, plus it was written by the Kingdom writer and I adore that drama plus it's only 12 eps which is smart in this case so... let's hope i get to it at some point D:

My dearest (2/20): I checked this out because it's got pretty much everything going for it from a production standpoint and boy did the first two eps deliver. This has got 2 seasons though so I'll probably wait until the second season is airing, since it won't be too long till season 2 or so the internet tells me.

My lovely liar (0/16): minhyun learned to act and I wanna see it happen!!

Jdramas:

Our dining table (2/10): ok this category is gonna be a bit shorter bc I haven’t watched too much drama recently but omg the gifs for this I am just crying thinking about it they look so cute??

Jack o‘frost (0/6): people have recced it and it’s short so here it is.

Utsukushii kare s2 (0/4): Season 1 was an unexpected delight so I hope s2 works just as well.

She loves to cook and she loves to eat (0/10): the manga for this is amazing (and hungry making) so I hope this adaptation holds up.

Ok this list is in no way exhaustive (well except for me being exhausted just trying toward this down) and probably subject to change ( I haven’t even looked at thaidramas or twdramas I gotta stop for now) but hopefully this will keep me on the ball and maybe I can add to it whenever a new tempting gifset crosses my dash…

#cdrama #jdrama #kdrama #the legend of anle #see you in my 19th life #ancient detective #King the land #Story of the nine tailed 1938 #the red sleeve #love tractor #Lady durian #the ingenious one #chang feng du #gone with the rain #an ancient love song #here we meet again #till the end of the moon #heroes #the blood of youth #ray of light #our dining table #jack o‘frost #utsukushii kare #she loves to cook and she loves to eat #to watch #too much to watch oh my god #butterflied love #revenant #when i fly towards you #mysterious lotus casebook

[ash5monster01]

Lessons of You Part 7

Pairing: Bradley “Rooster” Bradshaw x FemReader

Warnings: fluff, mentions of depression, mentions of smut, broken reader, 18+

Summary: Blake Parker was used to running. When life got hard, she’d run. The idea of sticking around to end up broken was scarier then she’d like to admit. So she hid away, cut all ties, and lived contently on her own. She was done running because no one could find her there. That is until a Navy Pilot runs into her life, and she learns allowing yourself to love can be scary, but hiding from it can be even worse.

a/n: I’m soooo sorry it’s been so long. I dropped that smutty chapter and literally dipped. The Fourth of July is the busiest time of the year for me so I was preoccupied with that but here is the newest chapter. sadly our story is coming to a close, I have a feeling the next chapter will be the last. thank you so much for coming on this journey with me and reading along xx

word count: 1,871

Intro, Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Final

Masterlist

It had been two days since Blake had heard from Bradley. She tried not to worry but it was hard. Going from a week of Bradley texting her every chance he got to being in her bed the night before he left, it was hard to go to complete radio silence. She tried to remind herself she knew nothing about the mission. Bradley never once mentioned how long it would be, how many days it could take, how far away it was, nothing. She prayed that it just meant he was still busy and serving his country. She had no other way to contact anyone to make sure he was alive. She kind of knew Phoenix but she didn’t have her number, and she could go back to the Hard Deck but if they had lost someone why would they have any need to be celebrating at a bar? So she waited and prayed that if she ever did recieve word it would be good news.

After her night with Bradley she had texted her Mom informing her she was ready to move back. Her Mom had already found an apartment, searching before Blake had even decided. It was a perfect little place and it reminded her very much of the one she was in now. The minute she gave her Mom the go ahead they got it all worked out, her Dad already fixing things in the apartment that it needed. So now Blake's life consisted of boxes, not many considering she didn't have much, but there was still stuff to be packed and taken with her on her self discovery journey. The idea of being home was exciting and nerve wracking all at the same time. She just hoped that when it was time for her to go Bradley will have returned.

"Almost done packing as we speak" Blake told her Mom over the phone as she looked at the living room stuffed with boxes. Her apartment had come completely furnished so majority of the boxes was clothes, bedding, and some dishware. Considering she did the same thing every day and didn't socialize much that wasn't even a lot either. Majority of the boxes were filled with books. Once she had finished she was surprised to realize what a small mark of hers she had left on San Diego, it was as if she took up no space at all.

"Are you excited, we can't wait to see you" her Mom cheered on the phone and Blake smiled, because she was excited but nerves twinged in her stomach over Bradley.

"Yeah, I can't wait" but her Mom heard it in her voice, and she knew something was wrong. She prayed she wasn't changing her mind.

"It doesn’t sound like it" Blake sighed and pressed a hand to her head.

"I am Mom, I promise. It's just I haven't heard from Bradley and last I knew he was picked for some dangerous mission. I will be more enthusiastic once I know he is safe" her parents knew of Bradley, considering he was the only thing to happen in her life recently that was worth talking about. The attractive Navy pilot with a heart of gold who brought their daughter back to them. They would be forever indebted to him for that.

"I'm sure he's fine sweetheart, he's trained for these type of things and they wouldn't of chosen him if they didnt think there would be a chance of him not coming back home" Blake nodded because she knew her Mom was right, she just needed to hear his voice. One last goodbye with the guy who made her whole again. He was a life lesson she needed, the one she was waiting for. The thing about life lessons though was usually after you learn them you don't need it anymore. That thought terrified her, because Bradley is the only reason she had felt something for the first time in years.

"I know, I just worry that maybe something did happen and not a single soul knows to contact me. Maybe he didn't make it and I would never know and have to come back home wondering whatever happened to the Navy Pilot I kind of fell for" this was Blake's first time admitting to any feelings at all, but Bradley was the first person to make her heart start beating in a long time and she couldn't just leave without knowing if he was okay.

"Blake honey, people are meant to be in our lives for a reason. Whether it's forever or only for one reason. Bradley met you for a reason and maybe you weren't meant to see him again, but it you are you'll know. Now don't worry so much, he is a professional after all" Blake sighed as she said this before nodding despite the fact her mother couldn’t see her.

"I'm gonna finish packing, I'll call you later Mom" Blake told her, not wanting to cry because she knew her Mom was right. Her Mom was trying to not break her heart if Bradley did never return. She would just have to remember him as something good that helped her through a rough patch of her life.

"Okay, be safe" her Mom responded and Blake ended the call uninterested in hearing anymore of letting Bradley go. She just wasn’t quite ready to pretend that the short time spent with Bradley was just that. A small shared moment between two broken people who helped each other learn that life goes on and it is as good as you make it.

It didn't take long to finish packing. She didn't have a lot and once she shut the last box she realized that there was nothing more to occupy her time then worry about Bradley. So even though she had told the publishing company she needed a few days she grabbed her latest shelf read and made her way to the porch to try and finish it. The sound of waves crashing, seagulls cawing, and kids screams from the beach was able to drown out her thoughts as she escaped into a different world. That was until she noticed the male lead in the book was an awful lot like Bradley. Dark and mysterious yet so full of love.

"Here I was thinking you'd be waiting at the door for me, worry all over you face, and instead I find you out here reading. Typical" Blake dropped the book in her hands, whipping around to see the beautiful mustached man standing in her doorway. She must've not heard the front door.

"Bradshaw!" without even realizing tears fell down her cheeks as she rushed towards him, him instantly engulfing her in a hug. "I was so worried, I didn't know what to think or who to call"

"It's okay, I'm here now" he comforted her, a hand running down her back and he instantly felt guilty knowing what had just happened on his mission.

"Was everything successful?" she asked, now backing away and holding his face in her hands.

"Yes, of course there were a few hiccups but we didn't lose any lives" he told her, afraid to tell her the hiccup was him pretty much sacrficing himself. Yet Blake saw all the guilt all over his face, her eyebrows instantly drawing together.

"You almost didn't make it?" she whispered, a thumb pressing out the crease in his forehead.

"Uncle Pete, Maverick took a hit for me and his plane went down. I couldn't just leave him so I went down after him" Blake gasped just slightly, possibilities running through her head like wildfire.

“You could have died” Blake fought the tears that threatened to run down her face, she didn’t want to be upset because he was here now. Right in front of her.

“I know, I know. I wasn’t thinking, just I saw him get hit for me. I thought I was a goner, and then I realized that when he went down for me that was the last family I had and if I didn’t do something I’d never forgive myself” Bradley told her, hands gripping her wrists as he tried to tell her everything was okay.

“Is he okay?” she asked and a smile cracked across his face.

“Yeah, lucky bastard and a little help from Hangman later but we both made it” he grinned at her and she chuckled, just knowing Hangman would hold that over him forever.

“I thought if you died I’d never know, I had no one to contact. I wasn’t sure what to do with myself while you were gone” Blake finally admitted and a tear rolled down his cheek at her confession.

“I gave Phoenix your number, she had specific instructions to call if I didn’t make it and give you any information you needed” Blake drew her eyebrows together in confusion.

“But you went down, they thought you and Pete were dead. She never called” Bradley chuckled through his tears, smile on his face.

“She knew I was still out there, I’m a tough asshole” Blake chuckled and shook her head as she pulled him back into another hug.

“Okay enough death talk, I’m just glad you’re here” she told him and he nodded on top of her head, arms wrapped around her waist.

“I saw the boxes in the living room” he said, immediately noticing the house was emptier than before when he arrived.

“Yeah. I um, found an apartment back home” she said pulling back, her eyes searching his face for a reaction.

“When do you leave?” he asked and Blake sighed, knowing it was too fast, that they only had such little time together.

“Tuesday” Two days. That was it. Two days and then she would be halfway across the country.

“Wow” was all he could bring himself to say, letting the information sink in despite the fact he wanted to pretend she’d be here forever.

“I know we only got a short time together but you taught me that you can lose people at any moment, life is full of regrets, and one of them shouldn’t be staying away from loved ones when you still have a chance to love them” Bradley smiled, happy he was able to give her that. Even if they knew each other for a small period of time, they still learned so much from one another.

“I’m happy I could show you that, you helped me too you know. I probably never would’ve allowed my Uncle back into my life if it wasn’t for you. So now when you leave I still have someone here for me” Blake smiled and hugged the boy tight again, knowing that this conversation felt final. Knowing that despite how hard they try, being across the country from each other wouldn’t keep them together.

“So, what’re you doing for the next two days?” Blake asked, her voice vibrating against his chest and Bradley chuckled, a wide smile spread across his face.

“Spending them with you, if you’ll let me” he told her and Blake smiled, her head tilting up to look at him.

“You don’t have to ask for permission anymore big B”

Taglist: @emma8895eb @aemondssiut

comment if you want to be added to the tag list :))

#bradley bradshaw fanfiction #bradley bradshaw x oc #bradley bradshaw fic #rooster bradshaw fic #bradley bradshaw imagine #bradley rooster bradshaw imagine #bradley bradshaw smut #bradley bradshaw #bradley bradshaw x female reader #bradley bradshaw x y/n #bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley rooster x reader #bradley bradshaw fluff #bradley rooster bradshaw #bradley bradsaw x reader #bradley bradshaw angst #bradley rooster x y/n #rooster imagine #rooster x oc #rooster smut #rooster angst #rooster x you #rooster top gun #rooster x y/n #rooster fanfic #rooster fluff #rooster x reader #rooster fic #miles teller #miles teller imagines

[seytazen]

“June?” Optimus asked in an uncharacteristically small voice. She turned to him. Base was empty and she had merely dropped by to pick up a textbook Jack had left behind. He was at work, Miko was on patrol with Bulkhead for the evening, and Raf was at a family function. She had gotten out of a meeting with Bill earlier on, but he took the back way out. Ratchet seemed to have retired for the night and the other autobots were no where to be seen.

Optimus himself was doing some monitor work. He was decoding the Iacon Database, or at least that’s what he had claimed when June inquired upon arriving. He had been at it every time she had been to base since his return from the Nemesis. The large mech shifted, turning around and walking over the the catwalk. He rested the ends of his digits around the railing of the cat walk. “I was wanting to ask you a question. I had spoken to Jack earlier on… he encouraged me to turn to you. Please tell me if I am over-stepping, but I was curious about a human concept. I have heard bits and pieces of it from Agent Fowler, but it seems to be a sore spot with him… Could you tell me about divorce?”

She blinked slowly in surprise, staring up at the Prime. The look in his optics were a little surreal. They shifted back and forth, cycling softly on her form. Apprehension. She gave him a small smile. She didn’t mind.

“Oh, well… it’s a very straightforward concept. It is the end of a marriage,” she replied. “Human get married when they love each other, but if they stop loving each other for some reason, then they get divorced.”

He glanced downwards. “Is it commonplace on this planet? For such a deep relationship to fail?” He asked, his voice quiet and almost meek. She sat down on the couch, the textbook could wait.

“Well, yes. The rate of divorce in the United States is falling, but right now, one in every two marriages end in divorce. I assume you wanted to ask me because you heard about Jack’s dad?” She asked softly, crossing her leg over her knee and leaning back.

He gave a small hum of confirmation, his expression going a little unreadable. “We share many similarities, as a species but also many differences. The concept of such a thing is foreign in my culture,” he said softly. “Why did your divorce happen?”

June sighed softly. “We wanted different things. I went to school to become a nurse, and he majored in business. We didn’t communicate very well. We were young, dumb, and in love and we got married too soon. Neither of us saw the warning signs because love blinds you. I had Jack right after I graduated college, he supported us the best he could,” she shook her head, the memories filling her with melancholy. “We started fighting. He was always too tired to help me care for Jack because he was trying to start a business, he wanted me to stay home with him too, and he was always out with his friends on the weekends. I wanted to go back to work and for him to help me be a parent. We stopped being intimate with each other, stopped listening to each other, and eventually- I couldn’t truthfully say that I loved him anymore, so we filed for divorced when Jack was about 6 years old.” She turned her eyes back to the mech that stood over her. His optics cycled again, a small frown weighing his expression down.

“That sounds so very painful…I’m sorry that happened,” he murmured sadly.

“Well, yeah…” June chuckled softly. “But it was really for the best. Sometimes, things just don’t work out the way you want them to… but you gotta make do sometimes. It’s what it is to be human,” the nurse hummed softly.

“Do you ever regret it because of the… collateral damage?” He asked softly.

“Sometimes, but I know it was better this way,” she replied with a small shrug. “I wasn’t happy, and our disagreements were harmful to Jack. I wish he had a father figure and yes, the idea of finding love again is laughable to me now, but I’ve made my peace with it... Jack was raised well and he’s 17, he’ll be off on his own soon to go to college. Sure, the initial situation was very painful. It was difficult, having full custody of Jack and trying to pay for everything, but eventually we adjusted. Child support came in. Maybe the empty nest will push me to meet someone and find love again, but I’m content either way,” she replied. “The collateral damage can be healed.”

The mech hummed again as an acknowledgement. “Love is very highly valued in my culture. My life, as it stands right now is longer than most of your written history as a civilization. Courtship was common, but it was taken very seriously.” He furrowed his brow as his frown deepened. “Of course, human marriage is a ceremony that is symbolic and unites you in the eyes of the law so you may form a family unit one day. It is not so simple for us…”

“I was always curious what that would be like on your planet,” she mused, encouraging him to continue.

He glanced over at her. “It is called a spark bond. It is a sacred bond between a Conjux or Amica Endurae. It is a very intimate and very permanent ritual. When we find someone that we wish to share our life with either romantically or platonically, we merge our sparks together to forge a link between them. It causes us to experience the other’s thoughts, emotions, and sensations like pain and pleasure at all times. With practice, you learn to how to control what slips through the bond, and how to mute it so it is not distracting, but it is always there and always will be.”

June frowned, “that sounds beautiful, but what happens if you fall out of love? What happens if you choose the wrong person to bond with?” She asked him, softly. He shook his helm.

“The only way to undo a bond is to break it. There are only a few ways. It involves grave injury or death itself. If your conjux is harmed, often fatally, then the bond becomes weak and it can snap when a spark flickers or gutters. It is like when a human patient flatlines. If your conjux dies, every part of their spark dissipates into the electromagnetic field of whatever is near upon their demise. Every part, including the piece they left behind in whoever’s spark they merged with. This shatters the link they made.” He paused looking down at June. He hesitated in continuing, but June gave him a small smile of encouragement. “There is one more way. It is the rarest and there are a mere handful of cases of a bond being severed by the sheer force. Emotion is directly tied to how our sparks fluctuate. Love is a very fiery and intense emotion. It makes a spark literally burn hotter. When you bond like this, two sparks burning at their hottest makes a very strong bond. The link is like two metal chain links however… emotions like despotic anger, betrayal, jealousy, and disgust can make a spark burn just as hot or hotter than love if you harbor enough of it. Sometimes, if the circumstances are correct, you can have a wave of these emotion that are big and strong enough to get the temperature high enough. And if you direct that kind of intense, fiery emotion into that link? It’s just like putting it back in a forge. If you follow that kind of passionate heat with icy emotions like hatred, contempt, and disownment… those kinds of extremes are enough to shatter a bond.

“No matter how it happens, a severed bond leaves the other in excruciating physical agony along with the emotional turmoil and grief caused by whatever circumstance lead them there. Often, the amount of pain leads to the other spark half extinguishing itself. If you survive the bond snapping, then it turns to a battle will, for a healing spark is a fragile one. If you lose the will to live in your grief for too long, then your spark can go out and you die. If you manage to heal your broken spark, then it leaves you weaker and with a physical part of your spark missing as a scar. You’re very lifeforce is diminished, and it leaves you with life long health problems such as a diminished self-repair system, chronic fatigue, depression, and chronic phantom spark pain…” He trailed off, a servo drifting to his chest and pressing over the armor that covered his chamber. His optics cycled restlessly as he stared off into space. “To answer your question, June, you make sure this person is the right one. You wait until you are certain. But if you truly fall out of romantic interest with your bonded, then you becomes Amicas. Platonic mates. You figure it out, you go to therapy, you give each other space, you pay attention to what you each need and you find a way.

“Our species also does not have many of the issues that lead to divorce on Earth. Infidelity, dissatisfaction, and lack of intimacy is not typically an issue because we are not truly a monogamous society. It is socially acceptable to find romantic interest in more than one person, weather it be another simply caught your interest, or if you found intimacy to be lacking. If you are not meant to be then or if a lack of commitment bothers you, courting rituals fail, and you move on. If you find a rise in conflict, there was a way to understand each other without you ever having to say anything because your bond gives you a direct line into what your partner is feeling and thinking, unfiltered. Domestic violence? You hit your conjux, and it’s just like hitting yourself just as hard. That’s why it wasn’t common.”

June nodded slowly, still staring in awe. It was almost unfathomable to her. It really took ‘death do us part’ to an entire new level. She watched him carefully, noticing him rub the front of his chest softly. “So…did something happen while you were being held prisoner…?” She asked gently.

He paused, going entirely too still while his optics shifted to look her in the eyes. His shoulders dipped silently. “I’m not entirely sure…” he whispered, his optics focusing on the ground again. The small creases in the soft metal that made up his face deepened. It sent a sympathy rolling through June. He looked so remorseful.

“Do… you want to talk about it?” She asked shifting her position slightly, grabbing a throw pillow and setting it on her lap as she drew her legs closer to her, folding them under her and leaning on the arm of the sofa. “Because I’ve got time.”

He hummed faintly not looking up.

“Start wherever you want to,” June replied, holding the pillow closer and running her fingers through the soft and smooth fabric. “I’ve put together that you’ve gone through something like that… who was it?”

He hesitated. She knew he wanted to turn away, to not answer, but he stayed where he was. “The mech I started a war with...”

June did her best to not appear shocked. She must have failed because he gave a small chuckle. “I know, it must be surprising to you. He appears to be a monster on the surface. It must be a stark difference. It’s hard for people to remember he wasn’t always Megatron. He used to be Megatronus, and make no mistake, they were very different people,” he murmured a gentle smile spreading a crossing his face. “He used to be passionate and nostalgic. He was inspiring and motivated. Driven to do anything he put his mind to. He was intelligent, and… gentle… and he had this way with words. He wrote the most beautiful poetry for me…”

June chuckled softly. “Poetry… that’s sweet,” she murmured. “…what happened to end it?”

His smile fell slowly as he continued in a whisper, his expression softening for a moment before his face fell back into melancholy. “Looking back he was angrier in those days…I was the final straw when I spoke over him at the Senate and betrayed him by accepting the Matrix of Leadership. That was the first time he had ever hit me. I was too sparkbroken to defend myself. He was shouting at me, and then the pain washed over me and I woke up days later in a hospital… I reached out for him but all I found was cold emptiness…” he murmured. “June… which one do you mourn for more..? What you lost or what you caused by being discontent?”

June hummed faintly. “It took time, but now? Neither. I don’t regret either of them. What about you?” She asked softly. “Do you regret voicing your grievances because of who you lost, or what voicing those grievances caused?”

Optimus thought about it, exventing softly. “I was always aware it wasn’t my fault, but I still use to regret it. I used regret that entire day. Sometimes I would think about what could have been if it had been different. All of the things I would’ve had if I had done something different… A loving conjux, a home, a career… maybe even a child…” he sighed, cycling his optics again.

“You’re right it isn’t your fault,” June replied softly. “Something tells me that you could have done a million different things, but he still would have taken you for granted. I’m sorry that happened to you…” she replied. “But if you only used to regret it, what about now?”

He sighed, leaning on the catwalk lightly, bringing a hand to his audio, scratching behind it as he thought. “After he’s shown me first hand what he would have done had he gotten to start over…? Now he just makes me angry…” he said softly. “I don’t know another cybertronian who’s gone through anything like this… How long am I allowed to stay angry…?” He asked his voice wavering faintly.

June bit her lip, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “As long as you want… just remember that being angry doesn’t change anything and that you have people who are here for you. Think you can do that?”

Optimus slowly nodded. “I believe I can, yes… one more thing June?”

“Yes?”

“Thank you…”

“You’re most welcome.”

#transformers #tfp #headcanon #optimus prime #daily does of headcanons #seytazen's drabbles #ship #love #megatron #past megaop #Megatron is an asshole #june darby #divorce #hurt/comfort #Optimus bottles his feelings up #orion pax #megatronus #Orion Pax/Megatronus #breakup #messy breakup #feelings

[eponymous-rose]

I'm gonna do this again because it turned out last week kinda went off the rails without it and the little bit of accountability is super super helpful.

Monday!

It's a busy week! It's also my birthday week! Let's do this!

E-mail with coffee: sent a prospective grad student a congratulations on her admission to our program. I'm really hoping to hire her, but I do need to consider whether I might want to admit two students for this position and just get the extra funding for the second one elsewhere if both decide to come. Hmm. Confirmed coffee on Friday with the wonderful admin I've been wanting to befriend for a while - finally we'll interact outside of paperwork! Sadly Wednesday's seminar speaker is ill and won't be able to present - I'm leading the seminar so that does add up to a little less work for me, which is the silver lining there. One of my student groups is struggling to grab data from the weather station they built on the roof because the dang software doesn't work on Macs - managed to coordinate getting them a loaner PC laptop from the department, whew. Completed two letters of reference for an undergrad student applying to internships. Somehow managed to double-book a meeting and gave one a heads up to cancel. Showed my availability for scheduling a PhD defense for a student whose committee I'm on. One of the speakers for my seminar series sent a somewhat passive-aggressive e-mail to the department chair to let him know his info's not up on the website yet. Department chair forwarded it to me, I replied with, essentially "hold your dang horses, your talk isn't until mid-March". He replied back with a sheepish apology. All good.

Formulated my list of essential stuff for this week:

finish Wednesday's (and next week's?) lecture(s?)

prepare next week's homework & key

work on grant proposal

work on commissioned review article

So excited that we're finally to the part of the class that I have taught before in past years! Great lecture today about statistical data analysis. Hurt everyone's brains with the Monty Hall problem. Showed a lot of XKCD comics, got some laughs. Good times. Answered some student questions on the homework assignments, looks like everyone's on track to ace this one as well. This is a really strong class and I'm very proud of them!

On to a virtual meeting with my peer mentoring group! We talk about how utterly wild it is that different departments manage research funding in completely different ways. I vent a bit for the umpteenth time about having to rely 100% on grants to pay my grad students (bigger departments often have student funding provided if they TA, but we just don't have enough classes to sustain that). Easily the biggest source of stress in my life right now is running out of funding for my students: "in order to pay your graduate students, you have to receive a major grant" "cool! how likely am I to get one?" "success rates are about 1 in 15" "uhhhh" "also the applications (if you manage to find a perfect match for your research) take about 40-60 hours to plan and write and it's not work that's looked at formally as part of your tenure review so you're actively taking time away from research" "uhhhhhhh" "and you won't find out if you have been awarded the grant or not before you have to make the decision to hire a student so you just gotta gamble on it" "UHHHHHHH" "you don't get paid in the summer either unless you pull in 2-3 grants that can each cover one month max of salary so I hope you're not putting well over 50% of your take-home toward rent in one of the worst markets in the US or anything haha." It's A Lot. But it's very helpful to talk to people about it!

Realized I left my half-finished Wednesday lecture on my computer at home so I can't work on it during my break between meetings. Shoot, guess that's a tomorrow problem. At least I can work on the homework assignment! This one was an absolute nightmare last year but I think I've come up with a way to simplify it while still hitting all of the learning goals. It's complicated but hopefully very satisfying and builds on everything they've learned thus far. Even with the simplification, I'm definitely expecting some traffic in office hours next week. Opted not to include the more tedious section of the homework because I've tested that particular skill amply in the earlier assignments this quarter. Ran through it once on my own, sent myself the key, then posted the homework and the submission portal for their online module for next week, so all I'm missing now is the lectures.

E-mail break! A professor at a small university nearby wants to bring in a grad student from my group to talk to her class about tornadoes! I have someone in mind (who is both a great presenter and also could use a little confidence boost to get back on track with his research), but of course he's working remotely on the other side of the country, so it's time for a quick check to see if a remote presentation is possible. Checking in on my seminar speaker for next week - project title and abstract up on the website, phew. She's a grad student, so I should find out if her advisor can introduce her or if they want me to do so (and if so, I gotta do some digging for fun facts to share!). Got an invite to a lunch with the faculty & chair where we're going to be brainstorming our next faculty hire, so I gotta be there for that (also because free food)! Surreal to think that we might be hiring my colleague for the next 30 years. It's... kind of intimidating and I definitely want to be in the room for that discussion. Aha! A reply already: virtual talk is fine, so I put the professor and my grad student in touch.

Nice virtual meeting with my former postdoc advisor - we commiserate for a while over his recent illness, but he's feeling better now so we quickly jump back to talking research. The small grant I was awarded recently actually dovetails with some of the broader research ideas he and I had been talking about, so I'm gonna keep him in the loop on that!

Up next: a meeting with my two undergraduate research interns. They're coadvised by my colleague who is flying research aircraft on the other side of the country right now so it's just the three of us. Due to holidays and conferences, this is actually the first time in 2023 we all managed to meet! We go over some paperwork to make sure they get college credit for this research. They're spinning their wheels a little bit but I had them shoot off a couple emails while I was there to start them getting their data ASAP. We then chatted about severe weather we'd all witnessed. One of the students mentioned she's been saving the candy from my office candy bowl for whenever she forgets to bring lunch to campus and now I'm realizing I should maybe get some protein bars or something for some variety.

All good stuff. There's a seminar in 15 minutes but it's a chemistry seminar so... I may just sneak home a bit early.

Tomorrow: no meetings (maaaybe one remote meeting), so work-from home! Should be able to get the last bit of coursework done for the week so I can start on my research to-do list.

#eponymous academia tag

[day-dreamsinthedark]

Apologies

↳ Summary: Miguel never fell over the railing, Robby never left Miyagi Do, and Sam chose herself. What follows are a few moments between the boys after Miguel has decided that he wants to fix things. (Kiaz)

TW: Lots of cursing, vague allusions to an anxiety attack, talk about bad parents/parenting/talk of trauma?, use of the word pussy which is the part of the show that makes me cringe the most tbh, tell me if I missed any pls

If this is ooc or just bad, I am so sorry. I'm still learning, but thank you to anyone who reads this! (HC that Robby loves baking and is a major chocolate addict, bye.)

❤ [ angst with a sweet ending?? ] ❤

4.2k

—

When Robby Keene heard what felt like a half-assed apology from the cheater that had him pinned by the back of the arm, his anger grew tenfold. As he was let go, his first instinct was to jump up and grab the kid by the collar. He pushed him back, stopping when he felt Miguel’s back hit the ledge. “Why?” He asked, because he was just as heartbroken as he was angry, and if Sam couldn’t explain it… maybe Miguel could. 

“I’m sorry.” The boy repeated, but this time his eyes were glossed over and Robby could see the sadness on his face.

“Oh, fuck you.” Robby spat, pushing him so that his back slammed against the railing one more time. He wanted to leave–run away before anyone could see him cry, but they hadn’t heard the police arrive. Holding a kid against a ledge didn’t look too great in the midst of a giant karate brawl. 

—

It’d been an awful junior year so far. Miyagi Do and Cobra Kai both were both mandated to shut down for two months, which wasn’t much of an issue considering the fact that most of the students had police-mandated therapy sessions, months worth of detention, or court dates to fight off juvie time. 

Johnny Lawrence had never fought harder for his son, and Carmen Diaz had never been more annoyed with hers.

The boys were allowed to remain in school together, but their schedules had been adjusted so that they were never in the same section of the school at once. Samantha LaRusso had ended it permanently with both boys because it was all too much–and the scars on her arm were a permanent reminder. Daniel LaRusso had no issue employing a rehabilitating Tory Nichols so that she could have enough to support her family, much to Sam's dismay.

It turned out that dating when your sons despised each other was hard. Also, it turned out that Johnny Lawrence could find a way to focus on both his business and his kid, sadly, the ridiculously gorgeous Carmen Diaz could not be a part of that plan. She was okay with that, because her baby came first too. 

Still, living across the hall from your archnemesis was not the most fun thing. And being in a karate dojo with your ex-girlfriend sucked. The boys were completely different and yet somehow exactly the same. 

Junior year was not going well.

It also turned out, however, that when all of the karate students were literally forced to group together to avoid jail time and expulsion— most of them found that they had a lot in common. 

It seemed like everyone else had already moved on, but these two couldn’t. At least, Robert Swayze Keene couldn’t. So when he found himself standing in front of the boy holding a container of hot food at his door, he couldn’t help but stare past him. 

“What do you want, Diaz?”

“My Yaya made extra, she knows your dad doesn’t have the whole cooking thing down yet, and you shouldn’t have to eat bologna sandwiches every night.”

Robby wanted to be angry, because fuck you Miguel, you don’t get to tell me what I should or shouldn’t do. But Rosa Diaz had quickly become like the grandmother he never got to have. He’d only known Rosa and Carmen for a little under a year now, but they always made sure to remind him that he was family. The Diaz women were wonderful, but their male spawn was–at least according to Robby– evil. 

He looked up at the taller boy and fought the glare that was desperate to come out. “Tell her I said thank you, yeah?”

“Hey–” Miguel said, using his hand to stop Robby from closing the door. “I know your dads out with his high school buddies. You could leave this in the fridge and just eat with us tonight?”

“Uh–”

“We’d love to have you over. My Yaya insists, and uh, my mom’s stuck at work late–so we have an extra chair set up anyway. It wouldn’t be an issue.” 

Miguel wasn’t an idiot. He knew that the Keene boy was still raw from their interaction at the beginning of the year. Robby was soft, he was gentle. It was obvious how desperate he was to be wanted and it took a while, but eventually Miguel got over the pain of his first relationship and realized how shitty it was to have hurt Tory and Robby in that way. He didn’t mean to–he was just so infatuated with Sam that he couldn’t think about how much he’d hurt everyone else around him. Tory completely cut him off, deservingly, and Sam seemed like a whole new person. 

Miguel fucked up. And if he couldn’t make it up to Tory, he could at least try to make it up to Robby. He’d start by refusing to take no for an answer. Robby might hate him, but he loves his Yaya, and Miguel knew he’d never refuse her offer.

Robby inhaled sharply. “Fine. For her.”

“Yeah, for her.”

–

Dinner was awkward. Dinner was always a little awkward between the Diaz and Lawrence households. There was a lot of history, but it was kind of nice when they stuck together. Sometimes the adults would get a little tipsy and the boys would get lost in the moment and everything didn’t seem so shitty anymore. Those moments were fleeting and rare. 

The lack of parents made the awkwardness hard to avoid. Then Rosa left… Robby really only understood “Buenas Noches.” It wasn’t hard to figure out that she was going to bed, but the issue with that was that now it was just them two. Alone. 

The tapping and light scratching of their plates was uncomfortable, but as much as Robby hated the kid, it felt rude to leave before either of them were finished.

Miguel was purposely avoiding finishing his plate.

“Didn’t think your grandma could eat that fast.”

“She might’ve been a little high.”

“Oh.”

“So uh, how are your classes?” Miguel asked. Usually Robby snapped pretty quickly, but he started the conversation this time, and the unusual move left Miguel hopeful.

“They’re alright I guess. Mr. Gonzalez has made physics kind of horrible, though.”

“You have Hawk for that class, right? He’s always saying that Gonzalez is an asshole.”

Robby laughed. “He really doesn’t hold back, does he?”

Miguel could not have been any more excited. This was a breakthrough. They were going to be friends–and then maybe their parents could get back together. He felt bad about that too. Johnny was another part of his mom's life that she had to sacrifice for him. 

“Yeah, it’s nice. He can be kind of a dick, but you should’ve seen what he was like before. Couldn’t get a word out of him.”

“You mean before he dislocated my shoulder?” Robby said, and the lightness of his voice had evaporated.

“Listen Robby, I’m so sorry abo–” 

“Oh shit. No, I’m messing with you. We’ve talked about it, he’s apologized.”

“Yeah, but I never did.” Miguel paused, he hadn’t realized how close he’d gotten. “There’s a lot that I still need to apologize to you for.”

Robby pushed his chair back, standing up and making his way towards the front door. He preferred being angry at the other boy, but for a moment it felt like they could be friends, and suddenly he was anxious. The comfort felt weird–dirty almost. He didn’t need an apology. He didn’t need a friend. He needed Miguel Diaz to leave him the hell alone.

“I don’t need anything from you.” Robby said. He was already halfway out the door when Miguel did the only thing that came to mind. He grabbed his hand.

“Robby, please… Just–”

“Fuck off.” 

Miguel waited for his neighbor to get inside before he went to bed, fighting the urge to cry. He wasn’t sure why it mattered so much, but he knew that he wasn’t going to give up.

–

It’d been a month since the boys had that conversation, and because Miguel was the most annoying instigator, all they could really think about was each other. While they hadn't really spoken since then, Robby had to hide to avoid him, and whenever they came into contact, Miguel tried to start up a conversation– all of his advances were quickly pushed away by the annoyed Robby. 

“Jesus Christ Miguel, you’re starting to sound like you’re in love with him.” Hawk sneered, “I mean… he does kind of look like Sam. I wouldn’t blame you.” He opened his locker and pulled out a biochemistry textbook to slip into his backpack. He smirked at his best friend’s dumbfounded expression.

“What!? No, that’s–that’s dumb.”

Miguel wasn’t quite sure why he stuttered. The thought was ridiculous. Yeah, sure–Robby Keene was attractive. Like actually, really pretty, if he could describe him in any specific way. That didn’t matter though, it couldn’t. The kid despised him, rightfully so, and Miguel hadn’t had the best track record with relationships. His first two happened quickly, probably too quickly, but that’s what made it so easy. How couldn’t he fall for them? They were strong, challenging, and with their long soft-brown hair and big, bright eyes, he was a goner.

Oh. 

No. He decided.

“Thinking about Robby now, huh?”

“What?! N-No. No. Fuck off, Hawk. I want to be his friend, you know? I want us to be in a place where–”

“Where you can kiss–”

“I’ll kick your ass.”

Hawk put his hands up in a defensive position, as if he were giving up. "Hey man, you're the one getting defensive."

"Dude, we were almost step brothers."

Hawk smirked. "Hey, it’s a popular genre." His eyes dropped at Miguel's glare. 

"I don't like him."

"Sure. You’re a damn bore, Miguel. And who gives a shit? Your parents broke up like a year ago. It's not weird anymore."

–

Miguel had suddenly stopped with his constant nagging, and Robby was relieved.

For about three days. 

He did not realize that he’d miss those 7:00am knocks at his door where the boy next door (across the tiny court, actually) would offer him whatever breakfast his Yaya had made, nor did he think that he’d miss being chased down to his door after school because, “I think I missed some notes for Akridge. Could I look at yours?” (And Robby was much too nice to say no.)

So now Robby found himself standing at the Diaz door at around 8:00 pm, trying to find the courage to knock. It was fighting back. He couldn’t quite defend why he was doing this. Rosa might want some. So might Miguel. So might Carmen.

“Robby! It’s so nice to see you. Are you here for…” The woman paused, she realized that the boys weren’t exactly friends, and she was suddenly flooded with confusion as she stared at the boy holding a plastic container. “Actually, uh… what’s up mijo?”

“Oh, uh. Hi! You’re back early today. Well,” He paused. Robby Keene was not someone who stuttered. No. So he took a deep breath. “You always make sure I have something to eat, and I just baked some cookies. I wanted to see if maybe–” 

Carmen could almost melt at the sight of the kind, lonely boy in front of her. “I’m sure they’d love some. Come on in, Robby.”

–

“Miggy, we have a guest!” Carmen’s voice rang out, and Miguel figured that it was just Johnny, because he still came over sometimes to have dinner. It wasn’t awkward anymore though, which was nice. He only hoped that everyone eventually developed the ability to avoid the awkwardness that tried to latch itself onto situations like that.

Their guest was not Johnny Lawrence. Miguel, who hadn’t bothered to change out of his tattered sweats and worn out Dodgers tee, thought it might be best if the earth swallowed him whole. No, he did not know what he was feeling. No, he did not want to think about it.

What did Miguel Diaz want? For the first time in a while– space. He wanted time to figure out why the thought of his supposed archnemesis/frenemy suddenly made his chest flutter, and he especially wanted to ignore whatever these feelings were because he fucked up. 

“Heyy…” Miguel said, his hands were conscious of his body for the first time in forever. He usually liked being visible, but in the moment it felt like he’d walked onto a stage in his underwear. He was desperate to get away. 

Robby noticed the way the other boy crossed his arms in front of his body, as if he were shielding himself. As if he were shy. 

“Hey.” He nodded. “Cookie? They’re pecan chocolate chip.”

“My Yaya’s going to love you.”

“She already loves me.”

“Ha. Ha. How’d you know her favorite?”

“She mentioned it last time I caught her smoking outside. Apparently arthritis is a bitch.”

Miguel hummed, nodding in agreement and reaching for the tub and pulling a cookie out. “She’s in the shower right now, but she should be out soon.” 

He took a bite, catching the crumbs with his other hand. "Oh my gosh." He said in a muddled mess of sounds. "From scratch?" He asked, and Robby nodded.

It was nice to feel appreciated, it wasn’t that his dad hadn’t been pretty great this last year, but even now he wasn’t really around as much as Robby would have liked. He’d always been convinced that he’d never do anything good, and maybe this wasn’t all that important, but that reaction–from a kid that he mostly hated– was enough.

"Dude, amazing." Miguel said. His voice, muffled by the mouthful of cookies, was a compliment itself. Robby almost blushed. The realization made him want to run.

"Thanks. I suck at cooking, but my mom used to ask me to bake her things whenever she was hungover." He furrowed his brows. "Don't know why I said that, sorry." 

Miguel offered a sweet smile. “No worries. I like learning about people. And hey, it’s a cool skill.”

Robby nodded, but he pulsed his body with the movement. For the first time in a long time– probably the onset of puberty– he didn't know what to do with himself. He was nervous and he despised it. 

"Well, uh. I actually have to work on that Great Gatsby essay so…" Miguel paused, eyeing the plastic tub that was now on the counter, "I'm uh, going to steal another cookie and then do tha–"

"Have you decided what you're going to compare?"

"That's actually what I'm trying to figure out right now." Miguel took a step back, hoping to cut the conversation short. He had an idea— a glint of hope, maybe— as to where this conversation was going, and it made his stomach turn. "I've never used so many highlighters."

"Oh well, if you need any help, you know. I've got a couple outlines that I decided not to use. You could always–"

"Didn't take you for a nerd, Robby."

Robby furrowed his brows and held his right hand up to his chest. “Rude.”

Miguel was a little annoyed that the urge to run faded away. All he could do was smile and fight the clamminess that was trying to take over his hands. “My place or yours?”

–

Apparently, Miguel had some sort of mood swings–and they irritated the living hell out of Robby. He knew he’d decided to give the kid a chance the moment he pulled out the flour and eggs, but why was it that annoyingly-friendly Miguel Diaz was suddenly distant and quiet? As if they hadn’t been sprawled out on the floor, throwing crumpled pieces of paper at each other, and laughing about some stupid Great Gatsby meme that they saw earlier that night. 

Things had almost been normal for a couple of hours when it seemed like some sort of switch flipped and his neighbor decided that he couldn’t wait to be anywhere but here. It was surprising in the worst way. Miguel, who had spent the last few weeks–months, really– annoying the living daylights out of him–who was usually warm and inviting– was now closed in and painfully distant.

“Thanks for the help. I need to get home.”

“Ok. What’s up, Diaz?”

“W-what?” Miguel stuttered, his hand only grazing the doorknob. He had basically sprinted towards the door after he decided that he was too tired to go on for the night. This decision came about when he found himself dozing off on Robby’s shoulder. It was too comfortable; an intimacy that Miguel wasn’t so sure he should have with this particular person. They had only just gotten on speaking terms and he didn’t want to push it. He quickly realized that he needed his neighbor as far away as possible, or he might ruin everything again.

"You used to fucking berate me about everything. Breakfast. Lunch. Homework. Dinner. You've asked me my froyo order like 3 times, even after I told you to fuck off."

“Didn’t stop you from ordering.” Miguel shrugged.

"Not the point." Robby stepped closer. "Why'd you stop? What happened?" Robby took another step forward, and for a second Miguel thought it was a threat, but the sadness in his voice said otherwise. “Did I do something?” 

He was inches away, and for the first time, he was open and vulnerable. Miguel was going to lose his fucking mind. 

“No, Robby. I just…” He said, trying his hardest to look anywhere but at those dumb green eyes. Miguel realized it now. He, Miguel Diaz, was weak. And he did not have a damn clue what to say, so of course, he snapped. “You wanted me to leave you alone, so I left you alone. What’s so hard about that?”

“Oh, yeah… I guess. I just thought–”

“What? That it’s okay to be a dick all the time and-and when you decide that you wanna be friends I have to just give in?”

To this, Robby did not have a response. He froze, suddenly able to feel the warm draft of the usually shitty heater. He couldn’t help but stare at the floor, eyes constantly shifting from the brown carpet to Miguel's new sneakers. They were black with red highlights, two colors that Robby decided suited Miguel quite nicely. It was all he could think about to avoid the current conversation. The sound of the front door closing was what snapped him back out of his trance. 

He stared at his door for a moment, weirded out by his brain's choice of a distraction, trying to ignore that the rejection made his stomach ache. 

–

It had been about a week since that interaction, and all Miguel could think about was how instantly the regret came. It was ugly and overwhelming. It probably would have been worse, but miraculously–or torturously– Robby managed to avoid him all week. He literally had not seen him in 7 days and each day that he didn’t see his neighbor leaving for school in the morning made the bad feeling carve itself deeper into his being.

He wasn’t even sure he wanted to be friends anymore, not after Hawk had gotten into his head; especially not after he realized how right his friend might be. 

As he found himself standing in front of Robby Keene’s front door, the idea suddenly felt fucking ridiculous. The longer he waited, the worse his stomach turned. Robby came to him with a gift and then a secret that he definitely didn’t mean to share, but he figured that this was the closest thing to a moment that they’d ever had and he hoped it was enough. 

His eyes went wide as the door swung open. “What do you want?” Robby asked, the annoyance clear on his face. Miguel noticed the way it faltered when his eyes landed on the tupperware he held. He tried not to get too hopeful.

“Those are brownies.” Robby stated, not bothering to hide the way his eyes jumped back and forth between Miguel’s hands and face. 

“Brownies.” Miguel nodded, the sweet release of anxiety made him floaty. I can do this. He thought, refusing to acknowledge the likelihood of rejection. That issue was for future Miguel.

“You made these for me?” The shorter boy asked, the arch in his brow aligned with a crooked smile that Miguel had never seen before, the newness of it made his heart jump, and he knew it was now or never.

“Maybe.”

“From scratch?”

Miguel froze, hoping that the burning in his cheeks wasn’t visible. “No, I bought the Ghirardelli mix.”

Robby laughed. The relief was palpable and Miguel couldn’t help but smile. “I’m horrible at this, so I thought I should at least buy the branded mix.”

“At what?”

“Apologizing… and explaining. Also baking.”

“Wanna come inside?”

“Please.”

_

The brownies were meant as an offering, a means to patch the torn up relationship between the two boys, but Miguel was certain that they’d be garbage. He denied a seat at the table, opting to lean against the back of the couch instead. Watching Robby bring the crumbly brown rectangle to his lips made him regret the decision– having to dig his nails into his palm to avoid staring.

“You know, these are pretty good.” Robby finally said. “Double chocolate?”

“Your dad said something about you being a chocolate addict a while back, so I thought–”

“I’d be less of a dick?” 

Miguel’s eyes widened.“No! You’re not a dick. Well, you kind of were for a while, but-but that was my fault, you know? And then you were–and I was– shit.” He paused, trying to take in a real breath, because the cold winter air was particularly unforgiving at the moment, and it seemed like his asthma was back for the first time in over a year. The only saving grace was the subtle smirk on Robby’s face.

“It’s just– I was desperate to be your friend but now I– I’m not so sure I want that anymore.” Miguel said, ripping the look right off of Robby’s face. Robby was also pretty sure he tore any semblance of comfort that once existed in the apartment; what he was still trying to turn into his space suddenly felt like it belonged to someone else.

“You… came over to tell me that? Couldn’t have–” He couldn’t even look at him, for a second he contemplated just turning around and going to bed. Maybe pretend that none of this happened, not like he needed anymore friends. Miyagi Do gave him all he needed.

“No! No. I want,” Miguel paused, he was breathless and a little red, reaching for the back of the couch to lean on. Robby unconsciously let his worry take over, standing from his seat and stepping towards the person in front of him. “Hey, are you alright?” He asked, resting his hand on Miguel’s elbow. “Do you want to sit?’

“No. Fuck, your dad was right, I am a pussy. Can’t even admit that I like you without having a full blown asthma attack.”

“My dad’s a dick, you don’t– what?”

“What?” Miguel was surprised by his own admission. It was meant to be smooth and charming, not born from a lapse of judgment because the oxygen refused to find its place in his lungs. He didn’t hide the frown that came when Robby backed away. “I should go.”

He didn’t lift his gaze to see the other boy’s face, the thought of seeing any negative reaction in real time made him queasy, the floor was much easier to focus on. Johnny Lawrence’s tendency for spilling beer everywhere almost resembled a puzzle, he thought it was kind of calming, all things considered. He had spent so much time in the apartment that he realized he could use them as a guide out the door. What a way to go.

“Don’t.” 

The word was soft– inviting only because of the context– and it felt as though all of the organs in Miguel's body found a way to flip themselves. A desperate bout of hope drummed its way up his entire being, whether it was a kind rejection or maybe  –hopefully–  something more, all he knew was that he was grateful that the boy behind him seemed to be nice about it. Anything was better than the horrific walk of shame he had only just previously expected. 

Miguel turned on his heels, ignoring the violent beating of his heart, and looking directly at the Miyagi Do design on the front of Robby’s shirt. It almost bothered him that he’d never noticed it before.

“Hey,” Robby said, using a timbre that Miguel now knew made him particularly weak at the knees. His favorite blend of green and brown came perfectly into view. “It’s okay.” Robby said. 

Miguel wondered if the fighting still would have happened had the boy just used that voice earlier. He was sure that the answer was no, because he’d never quite felt so at home in a sound. 

Robby said nothing. He had always been rather quiet, being much more comfortable letting his reactions respond for him.

“Can I–” Miguel was surprised by the interruption, but considering how horrible he thought the visit would go, all he could do was smile at the feeling of Robby’s lips against his own.  —

@mybeautifulillusion I am SO sorry for the wait!! I had a lot going on, but I'll finally be posting a lot more Kiaz and CK overall in the coming weeks. Thank you so much for the request. I really hope you enjoy!

#miguel diaz #robby keene #miguel x robby #robby x miguel #kiaz #cobra kai #robby/miguel #miguel/robby #kiaz cobra kai

[prettyhighforawhiteguyblog]

"The younger generation is morally better than us. They are kinder and more empathetic. They do work hard. But they far more clearly see where their work is worthwhile vs where it isn't and they don't waste their efforts on busy work or helping the rich get richer."

i sure asf am experiencing this empathy when i try to debate feminism on this site. feminists who prioritize their own sex def. don't get piled on by a bunch of jerks who cannot tolerate people with different priorities. the rape and death threats women get on here scream moral.

What you have experienced on Tumblr is horrific and evil. It is some of our worst parts of our culture that are wrapped up in our toxic male culture of misogyny and patriarchy combined with a bunch of might makes right and alpha male/sigma male bullshit.

I'm sorry for how you have been treated. It is wrong and every guy who has been part of that should have to read their texts aloud to their mother while Mom has her chancla. And then they should have to pay you a millions of dollars in damages in court for the damage to your quality of life and the terrorism that they inflicted upon you.

Partly it is because Tumblr is run by the same set of Aristocrats, techbros, and Muskrat fanbois as Twitter, Facebook, Reddit, and health insurance companies. I'm sure Tumblr's board of directors go skinny dipping with the Sacklers on Epstein Island. They all hate women and minorities and any kind of real diversity.

So they allow all the bullying and give terrorists freedom to keep you quieter or at least keep you angry, hurt, scared, anxious, and distracted to keep you from burning shit down.

All of that #MeToo stuff was just a peek behind our own curtain of boys-will-be-boys, bro culture that protects really bad guys and teaches all the rest of us to be more misogynistic and downright mean. And a huge portion of men (and their right-wing female allies) rejected the very idea and lampooned it to death.

And I know so many female scientists and professors who should be protected by their position in society, their well-connected colleagues, and universities/labs. They are harassed online mercilessly in the most ugly ways. And then they get it from some students and colleagues too. And their institutions sweep it under the rug or fire the woman because they are all run by Aristocrats and conservatives and Capitalists.

It is horrible and evil.

When ya'll get to burning shit down, I'll help.

But sadly, today is the best time in history to be a woman in our culture.

And for the vast majority of other cultures on Earth.

I've only been around for 45ish years. Up until 3 years before I was born, my mother could not get a bank account in her name. Not without either her father or husband as primary account holders on it. Timeline of some of the financial things here

Sexual harassment was a way of life for a huge contingent of guys when I was in my teens and early 20's. Most of the other guys just thought it was funny. It was only just beginning to get better in the 90s. By "better" I mean it became less socially acceptable to do in public and more guys would speak up in defense. But there were no real consequences and harassment in private never stopped.

Because kind of like racism and "diversity" and such, the people in charge of shit and a large contingent of the population refuse to change their hearts. They just want to stay out of trouble without ever changing themselves or allowing the culture to really change.

So, yes, this is the kindest generation we have ever had in America. Even if we aren't very kind compared to almost anyone else. We are generous, helpful, pleasant, friendly, and hopeful people, but we are not kind.

We are so far behind all the Brown nations in kindness and love, but look at our history. We started way behind thanks to the Aristocrats and their colonizing bullshit we got into bed with them on. But it really is kinder today.

That is sad, but perfection is a human invention. It is always about direction of growth or decline that any judgement of a people ought be made. That and how do they treat women. And how do they treat the poor, oppressed, and sick.

What direction are we moving and how do we treat the people who don't have the power to stop us or really just need some food and a place to live in safety?

That is what defines a good culture and a good people in my book.

So what does that say about us, that people like Anonymous are treated so horrendously on a regular basis and they are just a drop in the ocean? What does that say about us when we are the best people we've ever been in America (or Europe) and we are still this terrible?

#God weeps #civilization #ph4wg original #ph4wg #feminism #Anonymous asks