#& i did the whole thing but these are the bits i liked best!

[alex51324]

Yes, and, this is another example of something I was talking about on another post, where the pop-culture understanding of prehistory is massively compressed*. Most people know that the Earth is a lot more than 6,000 years old, but they don't know how much older it is, and how very long human prehistory was--while still being a small fraction of the overall timeframe of life on Earth.

(*And it's done this way specifically to avoid young-earth creationists going apeshit.)

So here are some dates:

The generally accepted date for the emergence of anatomically modern humans--homo sapiens, our species--is at least 300,000 years ago. Depending on the exact criteria used to define the species, it could be as much as 200,000 years further back than that.

Traditionally, paleoanthropology has put a second split at about 50,000 years ago, marking the beginning of behaviorally modern humans. This is where the archeological record starts showing things like art (cave paintings, and carved figurines of people and animals), a much wider variety of tools, and evidence of sewn clothing (as opposed to tied or draped hides).

Currently, there's quite a bit of debate over whether this division makes any sense at all. Certainly, there's a lot less support for the old idea that Something Happened around 50,000 years ago to suddenly jumpstart human technological progress, and more support for gradualism, where humans were developing technologies and symbolic behavior at a fairly steady pace over the 300,000 years, and the 50,000-year mark is just where it becomes visible in the archeological record*.

(*The human population increased a lot as the last Ice Age ended, which means there are more archaeological sites to find, and also the coastlines have changed a lot, meaning that many places that ice-age humans would have found pleasant to live in are now underwater, and thus unavailable for study. And, of course, the so-obvious-it's-easy-to-overlook fact that, of all the materials that early humans would have had to make things out of, rocks are the one that preserve the best. We have very little evidence of what people 300,000 years ago were doing with wood and other plant materials. It's a safe bet that they were using them extensively, but we only have a handful of examples.)

Finally, at around 12,000 years ago, farming and livestock herding really took off, followed by pottery and then metalworking. These developments are a huge watershed in the archeological record. Of course, the pottery and metalworking created a new class of artifacts that preserve well over the timespans we're talking about, and also farming meant that people were living in the same places year-round, which means houses that were durable enough to reliably show up in the archaeological record, as well as people having more possessions than they could carry. Again, there's no reason to believe that these people were more intellectually sophisticated than their forebears for at least 38,000 years, and perhaps the whole 300,000--they just lived in a way that leaves more traces.

And that's just anatomically modern humans! If you want to go back to when we started using tools*, that's at least 3.5 million years ago, and upright walking was 7 million years ago. These people would have resembled the existing great apes more than they do us, but it's only if you collapse them into their descendants of about 6.5 million years later, that you get the cartoon "caveman." In real life, they would have been skilled and sophisticated navigators of a way of life that had more in common with the other great apes than ours, not shambling versions of us.

(*Stone tools; again, people could have been using other materials much earlier. Modern chimpanzees use sticks, branches, and leaves for various purposes, sometimes lightly modifying them; we don't know whether our common ancestor with chimpanzees did as well, but if so, that would have been about 8.5 million years ago.)

Not pertinent to anything in particular but I do think it's kinda weird that we keep depicting cavemen in media crawling around on all fours covered in dirt with tangled, matted hair, speaking in broken, cobbled-together toddler language when like.

They were us.

Like literally genetically they were US, just like. A while ago.

Like

Would you trust a TV caveman with a baby? Probably not

A real life caveman though??? I think they'd be at least okay at it

[grooveology]

. . . haha . . . imagine being tashi's childhood best friend, growing up beside her and getting into stanford together . . . meeting patrick and art then she starts dating patrick but reader is never left out (and neither is art) hmmm why does patrick wrap his arms around readers waist?? why does tashi smile at the sight??? why is art so touchy with tashi AND in front of patrick??? why are you all so affectionate?

i may have gone a bit overboard, but i did kind of forget about tashi x art sorry ): hope this gives your genius thoughts justice!!

you and tashi? the epitome of the sun and moon, two peas in a pot—but with way more codependency than either of you would admit to. you were attached by the hip. how could you not be? you grew up together, lived on the same street, went to the same school, and eventually went to the same university. you were each other's first kiss, first makeout, first homoerotic friendship! it was only natural for you two to share boyfriends–friends. you aren't sure how it happened, but one night you both meet patrick zweig and art donaldson (although, they were both on your radars way before the party.) the boys immediately take an interest in you and tashi, inviting you over to their hotel room. surprise, surprise, you both make an appearance.

patrick shares his touching story about teaching art how to jerk off and suddenly tashi gives you a look and you can't help but burst into laughter. okay, alright, maybe you were a tad bit drunk. you snort, laugh, and then, before you can stop yourself, the words slip out.

"that reminds me of the time when tash offered to give me kissing lessons."

tashi, unfazed as ever, takes a casual sip of her beer and grins.

“well, you were nervous about kissing guys,” she says, her tone maddeningly matter-of-fact. “you needed all the help you could get.”

you groan, burying your face in your hands. "tash—oh my god.”

now, it was patrick who bursts out laughing, nearly spilling his drink. “wait, wait. are we talking, like, full-on tutorial?”

“shut up,” you mutter, cheeks burning. “it wasn’t like that.”

oh, but it was!

art is too amused by the conversation to say anything, but you can feel him watching. his pretty blue eyes flicker between you and tashi, it's almost like he’s taking mental notes on this whole conversation.

"what?” you snap, more defensive than you mean to be.

art’s grin widens just a fraction, and he takes a sip of his beer, shrugging. “nothing. just… you two are close. closer than most."

you don’t know how to respond to that, but tashi, of course, doesn’t miss a beat.

“so are you two,” she says casually, her eyes flicking toward the beds shoved together at the center of the room.

and somehow, just like that, the room shifts. one thing leads to before you know it, your lips are on tashi’s, soft and searching, the taste of beer and laughter still lingering in her mouth. patrick’s mouth finds art’s, and the sound—a soft, startled hitch of breath—pulls your attention for half a second. you glance over, catching the way art’s hand curls around patrick’s neck, pulling him closer.

and then, somehow, art’s lips are on yours. the shift happens so naturally it barely registers—his mouth is soft, he's not rushing, instead, he's savoring as if he's trying to memorize the feel of you.

besides you, patrick’s mouth crashes against tashi's with urgency, his kisses hungry, almost desperate, as though he’s been holding back all night and finally let the dam break.

since that night, things changed—with art now attending stanford alongside you, and patrick going pro (yet he always found a way to visit) the four of you only grew closer.

patrick and tashi were the first to make it “official.” you’d think that would’ve made you the third wheel but no. it was the opposite. they invited you and art to their dates. your opinion mattered—on everything. what they wore, where they went, what they ate.

you and art? you were “friends.” friends who held hands when no one was looking—or even when they were. friends who kissed each other at parties or on lazy afternoons when the sun hit his dorm room just right.

and then there was patrick. it didn’t matter that he was tashi’s boyfriend—there were nights when his mouth found yours instead, kisses that were playful but lingering, his hand never failing to slip to your waist.

tashi never seemed bothered. if anything, she found it amusing. eventually, she’d roll her eyes, a small smile twitching at her lips. "he’s a sloppy kisser, isn’t he?” she’d say, tone so casual it could’ve been about the weather.

"i'm a great kisser." patrick would shoot back defensively, pulling away from you.

“sure,” tashi would reply, deadpan, her eyes cutting to yours like she was about to make a point. she’d tug you away from patrick and kiss you herself—wolfishly and possessively.

when she pulled back, her lips still brushing yours, a small smirk played on her face as she turned her attention to patrick, just as quickly, her gaze shifted back to you. her smirk softened into something almost affectionate—almost.

"i’m the better kisser,”

oh, and patrick and art? they were affectionate with each other too, in their own way. patrick was never shy about grabbing art’s thigh in the middle of a conversation, drawing lazy patterns. and art had his ways of showing care—kissing patrick’s head or brushing a soft kiss against his lips whenever he had to leave for a tennis match.

despite it all, though, you and tashi were the closest.

when patrick was away, you made sure to take care of her, her legs would part for your fingers found her cunt, moving slowly at first, then deeper, curling just right until soft gasps turned into desperate moans that filled your shared dorm room.

“tashi, you look so pretty." you murmured, your lips brushing her neck as she arched beneath you, her head tilted back, her breath hitching as your thumb found her clit, drawing lazy circles that sent her spiraling.

and tashi? she had her ways, too. every morning, she’d wake you with a kiss, her lips brushing yours softly and every night, she’d kiss you again—she’d press you up against the wall, her breath warm against your skin as her hands pushed down the shorts you’d “borrowed” from her.

her fingers found you easily, sliding between your thighs, drawing out a gasp as her lips trailed down your neck. “mine,” she’d murmur against your skin, a claim as much as a reminder.

at the end of the day, it was always you and her. the boys were just playthings, distractions from the way her nails dug into your skin, the taste of her on your lips, the way she said your name like a prayer. you were hers, and she was yours—always.

[centrally-unplanned]

I really enjoyed this video by Angela Collier as someone who is of the "Feynman Bros" generation without being a member of the thing itself. I was of course part of the "XKCD science nerd culture" of the 2000's where he was a valorized figure, but never read any of his books, and generally just wasn't a science person in general so the whole vibe didn't appeal. I certainly noticed the 2010's culture shift where people - rightly so in my opinion - noticed that many of his "anecdotes" were casually misogynistic or harassing. I know both sides of the track here decently well without having any stake in it.

So it was quite shocking to me to learn - spoilers - that Feynman never wrote a single book. Every one of those texts with his name splashed on it is by someone else, and sometimes with quite minimal involvement by him! He had this weird coterie of fans who just loved his stuff so much they collected his anecdotes, recorded lectures, and so on, and made books out of them, often well after the fact. And of course at certain point "cashing in" on the brand took over.

Which leads, inexorably, to the fact that it is a little difficult to glimpse the "real" Feynman, because half of the published stuff is just made up. Surely You're Joking is the exaggerated stories of a 50 year old man trying to impress a 20-something dude with how cool he is, telling tales decades after they happened. I had never read the book, so hearing direct quotes from it of Feynman "pretending to speak a language he didn't and being So Clever he tricked his audience" are just...obviously not true? What the fuck are you talking about??? The best part for me is that the book, of stories from the life of a physicist, never involves...other physicists. It is always random people at a bar or hotel. Because, you know, they can't contradict them? The one time he did name someone, Murray Gell-Mann, in a story, Murray objected on the grounds that it was false and they were forced to change it! You had one job and you fucked it up, person-who-isn't -Feynman-pretending-to-be-Feynman-while-writing-the-book.

This is very much a video in my wheelhouse of cultural history - Feynman is just a guy. His brand, like all brands, is manufactured, and so there is a story behind how it was manufactured & why. I think I can see Feynman's rise as part of the general rise of "nerd culture" that accelerated in the 1980's, and the very deep need to both be "pure" nerdy (something finally dropped in the late 2000's) but also cool, to fight back on the rep. A womanizing scientist deeply appealed at that time, one who can Have It All. The idea of being the Smartest Guy In The Room was admirable, not insufferable. Then times changed, and the whole edifice can be a bit cringe. With, of course, a real person behind it all that one has to sift through to see.

Also, you do sometimes look at the past and go "man, people really did act differently back then". And that is true! But part of that story is that people just felt way more comfortable bullshitting you about it. Makes it a bit hard to say how things really were.

[a-sociopath-do-your-research]

Grian had done all the right things, pulled all the right strings.

One goal in mind.

Bring them back.

The watchers, the Gods already disliked him.

This would mean nothing, it's his server, his rules!

It took a bit of fiddling.

Cleo had the power, and Cleo did not like him, but Gem did! And she let him talk to Mumbo and Skizz.

They looked rotten. It hurt.

But it's ok. They were back. It was them.

« I loved you guys so much I concocted this whole scheme just to have you back! »

He said that with the biggest smile he could manage.

They were back. They were his again.

He couldn't let them go.

He had them for five minutes.

Five minutes he could look at their faces again.

Five minutes they smiled at him again.

Five minutes they were his, for no one to take away.

It hurt when the time was up. When they died- when he killed them (again. Because it had been all his fault. It had always been his fault. They'd said so themselves. The tower he built for them had only brought them despair.)

It hurt when they had to go back to their master.

Minions, they'd become.

It was the best he could do for them.

« Cleo said I could be your zombie again! »

When Mumbo said that, Grian was ecstatic.

He didn't believe it- not really. He knew better than to think Cleo would let him have Mumbo back.

But Mumbo wouldn't lie to him, would he?

He got to hold his face again.

Mangled. Dirty.

But his mustache was still there. His blue eyes were there, glassy and pale but Mumbo's.

They were the last thing he saw, as he sank into the river, a wound caused by Mumbo's axe in his back.

He heard a faint « I lied, I'm sorry! »

But it didn't matter.

« That traitor…! »

Grian had done all the right things, pulled all the right strings.

With only one goal in mind.

And they'd betrayed him. Turned their backs on him.

But they'd forgotten something.

He was the one who held the strings.

He was the one who brought them back, the one who could send them away again.

Messages flooded the chat.

Many, many messages- achievements, deaths…

One repeated over and over

[Mumbo was slain by Grian]

[Mumbo was slain by Grian]

[Mumbo was slain by Grian]

Sometimes with little differences.

[Mumbo was shot by Grian]

He didn't know what was happening to his mind.

« I WILL SLAUGHTER EVERY ONE OF YOU! »

The ringmaster had snapped.

The ringmaster was gone.

« End of the session for you. »

Purple hues floated around his arrow as it sank into the other's chest.

The feathers, his feathers were the last thing Mumbo saw.

Once a bright red, now taken over by a deep purple.

[temis-de-leon]

When they don't know you as well as they thought they did

Characters: Lucifer, Mammon, Leviathan, Satan, Asmodeus, Beelzebub and Belphegor (x reader, separately)

Main Masterlist

C/W: the boys are crushing on MC and it's implied MC is crushing as well, but there isn't any established relationship. Just friends feeling things for their friend, very common. Self-insert, perhaps?

A/N: this is just fluff, very silly, a little ooc maybe, but I'm not sure. I just wanted to make something fun and lighthearted after the recent news.

.

No one is surprised anymore at the firmness the brothers speak with when they call you part of the family. Between the pacts and the unsolicited free therapy, it’s only fair, and only an idiot wouldn’t be able to see the affection running through the House of Lamentation.

Still, there are instances every once in a while where, although it’s difficult at the beginning, the boys have no other choice but to accept the fact that you have a completely different life back in the human world and they may not know you as good as they would like.

It starts with the small things; embarrassing conversations where their ignorance gets you to laugh like a maniac more than a couple of times. There they are, blushing in self-consciousness while you cackle uncontrollably because they believed some urban legend about a faceless suited man with freakishly long arms.

Then, slowly, but surely, it turns into more personal things about you, like your irrational, downright, phobia of lizards or the fictional characters you’re surprisingly attracted to.

(Some of those aren’t human, which makes them all feel a strong sense of hope, but you don’t need to know that).

The brothers learn about your studies, favourite subjects and what you’d like to do with your future, even if it sounds hopeless or unlikely. They also keep every bit of information about your friends and family; little comments that you let go here and there and help them understand why you are someone they love so much.

The whole situation evolves in such a way that inviting them to your birthday party in the human realm seems to be the obvious next step.

��It’s so I can celebrate it with all my loved ones’ you say, and they really can’t deny your offer after that.

So, after a few awkward introductions and half-truths about their origin, everyone is happily talking to each other and eagerly waiting for their turn to be with you.

.

Lucifer, who has had a special interest in your family for a while, finds himself chuckling in understanding when your mother complains about the occasional mess in your room. In your defence, he feels obligated to partially throw his brothers under the bus and blame them for keeping you in a constant state of disarray, but then she says something that… perplexes him.

You don’t like perfection? His eyes open wide at the revelation and your mother chuckles, misinterpreting his expression. She doesn’t know who he really is or what he represents, after all.

Just how vast is the veracity of that statement? Does it refer only to a state of mind or do you apply it to everything else?

Thankfully, he doesn’t have time to feel too anxious before he remembers the little details. When your triumphal smile shone in the dimness of his room that time he made a silly mistake in chess, ultimately granting you the win; or when the Anti-Lucifer League managed to leave his hair unkempt for an entire day, which got you to shamelessly look at him for longer than any of his younger brothers would’ve ever liked.

Not being perfect isn’t something he would ever do consciously and he had always found solace in the fact that you like him despite his mistakes. However, knowing you actually like him because of those mistakes? Perhaps letting those cracks show in his façade isn’t so bad as long as it is for you.

.

Not far from him, Mammon chats with your human best friend. There’s an air of competitiveness between them, both wanting to be the ultimate best friend, but it all stays light-hearted. There’s no real threat when Mammon gets to be your first demon, you know? It’s a unique position!

But he still makes sure to assert dominance by stating he would’ve made the perfect party for you, better than the one you’re currently enjoying; with food and decorations from the Devildom and the Celestial realm included, matching outfits and, of course, keeping everything hidden so you can have the best surprise of your life. He had thrown a lot of those with Asmo’s help back home, so he knows you love them!

Or he thinks you do, at least.

Your friend sniggers harmlessly when they hear that last part, pointing at him with an infuriating smartass attitude, and immediately shatters Mammon’s reality.

What the heck do they mean, you don’t like surprise parties? He’d done a lot of those back at the Devildom and you’d never complained, appreciative as you are, even helping him do the same for other’s birthday parties!

Sure, you had always looked dumbfounded by the loud cheering and the confetti after stepping through the door, but that was part of the fun… right? You would tell him if you wanted him to stop, wouldn’t you?

He feels a pang in his heart when the idea of you being uncomfortable for his sake appears in his mind, but it doesn’t make sense. While you undeniably treat him better than anyone else in all of the realms, you still correct him when you see fit and him making you unhappy on your own birthday would be one of those occasions.

He trusts you to confide in him when things are wrong just as much as you trust him to do his best. That’s what friends are for, after all.

.

And where else would Levi be if not hidden in a corner playing with his DDD?

He had tried mingling with people at the party, or at least tried hanging around them, he swears, but conversations became repetitive and boring and then he received a notification for a daily reward from one of his apps, so, of course, he had to sit down to collect it. Then minutes passed as he completed minigames to power up his cards and… you get the idea.

So when a friend of yours walked towards him, complimenting the pins and badges on his bag and the faint music coming out of his headphones, sure, the evening started going way smoother.

He talks enthusiastically, just like any other time his interests are mentioned, wildly gesturing with his hands and letting the little bubble around them be full of their eager exchange. However, a casual lament from his companion stops him right in his tracks.

It’s a shame you don’t like anime…? His first reaction is to laugh, enumerating everything you’d watched, and later commented on, with him under a blanket in the tranquillity of his room, but the utter surprise in your friend’s face leaves him speechless.

You really don’t like it? But… But he’s made you see so many things! Did you like any of them? Did you lie to his face when you said you enjoyed them? He would’ve never chosen a best friend like that; you were not like that and he refused to believe the contrary.

Also, would a liar buy merch on their own like you did? Would they watch the best episodes again or listen to the soundtrack on repeat when they had a bad day? This new revelation only makes him aware he was the one to change your perspective of the fine arts and he’s damn proud of that.

You are still getting an earful when you get back home, though.

.

Satan thinks the kid is a young cousin of yours, but he really hasn’t been paying attention to anything in a long while. How could he, when the enthusiastic toddler had taken their mother’s phone just to show him the family cat’s pictures and videos?

A Mackerel tabby cat, too chubby for his own good but not enough to be actually concerning; playing with feathers, blinking slowly, bumping his head against legs and shoulders, meowing sweetly and, basically, opening his heart in half and making it roam inside his chest like a butterfly.

What a good party.

He mentions all the stray cats behind his house, obviously leaving behind the name of the House of Lamentation and the Devildom, and all the times you’ve gone with him to feed them and play. Satan even shows pictures on his DDD and stops with an adoring expression when you appear on the screen, sitting on your toes with a kitty on your knees and smiling past the camera, straight at Satan.

However, what he hears next takes the air right out of his lungs. He sits down and clutches his pearls and the kid stares at him in anxious confusion, clearly witnessing but not understanding the severity of his distress.

Who, in their right mind, doesn’t like cats?

He remembers the first few times you had accompanied him to his route, intimidated and slightly lingering behind. Initially, he had assumed it was due to the novelty of your friendship or a possible fear of Devildom fauna, but nothing against cats!

Were you afraid of them or just plain uninterested? Why keep going with him if you weren’t as fond of them as he thought you were? Wouldn’t it be because of him, would it?

A warm feeling covers him like a blanket, makes him search for you with his eyes and then immediately blush when you excitedly wave at him, point at the kid and mouth ‘Cute cat!’

Yeah. Very cute.

.

On the other hand, Asmo hangs out with the people responsible for the decorations of the party and compliments them on their work. The colours are well-coordinated, there’s nothing out of place and the distribution was thought with all the guests in mind.

Although he hasn’t been able to help in that regard, he’s made sure you would be the centre of attention that evening; a complicated feature coming from him, but he had never minded sharing the main spot just as long as you were the one by his side; and everyone knows that.

You look cute and pretty and hot in your outfit, a style that both compliments and pleases you. You also worked together in your makeup for hours before getting to the party.

However, taking that much time might have been due to scrolling through social media and gossiping so much, but never mind that. Everyone agrees you look incredible and that is more than enough for him.

It isn’t until one of your friends mentions how weird it is to see you wearing makeup that he dares take his eyes away from you to stare at them in disbelief.

He would’ve never guessed that given that one of your favourite pastimes together is makeup as a whole: going shopping, watching tutorials, following trends, doing your own next to each other, doing each other’s… And, even if he wants to use it, his charming power is useless against you, so he knows you do your makeup because you want to and not because you feel forced by him.

Whether it’s something you share because you enjoy it or something you enjoy because you share it with him, he isn’t sure, but he can swear on his precious damned soul that makeup isn’t a need for you.

It’s just a bonus to your beauty.

.

Sitting at one of the tables, Beel is simultaneously talking to your older sibling while gulping down an entire plate of bite-sized snacks; thankfully, whatever apprehension anyone felt at his hunger died hours ago and now the conversation flowed more naturally, mainly centred around you.

As much as he loves having you near him and his brothers in the House of Lamentation and thinking of you as another member of the family, he is very interested in knowing how your human family is, especially your siblings. It’s another way of relating to you and making him feel closer.

Plus, he gets to know stories from your childhood you may never tell him on your own; anecdotes that will stay at the table he is currently sharing with your sibling.

Unfortunately, they reach a point where, although he wants to keep asking questions about you, doing so with a mouth full of food might end up with Lucifer’s scolding of the year. Also, he really wants to make a good impression.

So your sibling begins asking the questions. Surprisingly, they start with his tattoo; dark red curling around his muscles and almost going unnoticed under the colours of dusk. Beel smiles without giving it any importance because it really doesn’t have it, but forces himself to stop gulping down food when your sibling throws a fun fact about you.

You find tattoos attractive?

He feels an instant burning on his cheeks followed by the rapid beating of his heart and a knot in his stomach, but there’s also a faint unpleasant sour taste in his mouth.

You’ve never asked him about his tattoo, barely sparing a glance at it when you worked out together or he took off his jacket.

He wonders if you don’t like it or if you think it doesn’t look good on him because all he can remember is the focused look in your eyes while looking at his and the curve of your smile growing bigger as you listen to whatever he says, even when it is entirely about food, and…

You know what? He doesn’t really mind. He is fine with things as they are.

.

As both a friend of yours and a fellow younger brother, Belphie respects your sibling’s decision to spill your darkest secrets and thoroughly enjoys the air of comradery between them.

Don’t worry, he won’t let it go past actual serious matters; if you want him to know any of that, he’d rather have you telling him yourself when you’re ready and not get betrayed by your sibling. Silly and harmless pieces of information, however? Those are more than welcome.

And he already has a favourite.

You need to hug plushies to sleep? Tell him more. He doesn’t judge you for feeling the need to hug toys or pillows while sleeping. Actually, he understands.

Do you have a favourite? Is it in the human realm or is it in your room back at the House of Lamentation? While he can recall seeing that ugly zombie iguana on your bed, he’s never seen you cuddling it while sleeping and, other than that, he doesn’t remember seeing one, so he wonders if you hide it somewhere when you know he’s going to your room; but what about those times he enters uninvited?

Does that mean you left your preferred plushie in your room in the human realm? Does that mean that you don’t actually need to hug anything to sleep?

Whenever you share a bed, which is pretty frequent, Belphie can sense an invisible barrier between you that he’s dying to break. It’s nothing physical, given that only he knows how truly comfortable your lap and your chest are, but it’s obvious in the way your hands hesitate to bring him closer.

Shy and indecisive, while you don’t reject his advances, he’s still unsure what your feelings on the matter are. He’d initially thought you weren’t used to having anything so close to you while sleeping, but… now… Maybe he has to assure you that you can hug him as hard as you want.

Belphie is just as good as any plushie, after all; if not better.

.

.

Taglist: @ilovecandys2010  @ollieoven @kingofspadesdelusion @whimsybloom

[86espresso]

dancing is a dangerous game ⋆.˚ ★—ONE

(au masterlist)

SUM ; he did not 🙅‍♀️ wrap it before he tapped it

WARNINGS ; finding out that you’re pregnant, whole lot of awkward talking bc that’s what I’m best at 👍, mostly humor, zegras is jobless, fluff, oc character (readers bsf), kissing? allusions to sex, drinking, anxiety

NOTES ; first fic we ball 🙂‍↕️

WC ; 2.3k

“Your place, or mine?”

Your place or mine?

Your place or mine.

Jack Hughes wishes he was cool enough to say it the way his older brother did, but unfortunately, he was not that gifted. Matter of Quinn being more articulate and approachable.

The only times Jack actually got some was when a girl approached him, or when they were done with the whole third date thing.

Tonight, he decided he would telepathically flirt with you by staring across the room. To him, this is the most effective form of flirting. You’d have to catch his eyes eventually.

Your hair was wild, eyeliner smudged and lipstick blotted, the thrill and the alcohol had you dancing and singing and acting lively, he immediately needed to know you better.

Judging by your energy and the way you sang along to every single song made him believe you might be a fun person to hang out with outside of having you in his bed.

God, he’s already formed a false version of you in his head.

Jack winced, feeling Trevor’s razor of an elbow poking at his rib.

“Literally just talk to her, bro.”

Jack stood there blinking and watched as Trevor switched out their drinks, giving him the stronger one out of the two. He covered his rib before Trevor could bruise it again.

“Christ, don’t do that. I can’t just go up to her and talk. Look at her.”

Trevor looked. He didn’t really see much besides a pretty girl getting shitfaced. He just shrugged and made Jack chug the strong drink, ordering two more for him to push him further.

The rest of was bits and pieces in Jack’s memory. He did, indeed, get as shitfaced as you. He remembers you coming over after noticing his gaze, resting your head on his shoulder (he nearly shat his pants), taking a sip out of his shot glass boldly and telling him that you liked it. That may have been a life altering experience for him; he thanked whichever god he pleased enough to deserve this.

The alcohol messed up his memory a bit; but he remembers your lips on his neck in the cab, his lips on your hipbones, and the warmth of your body close to his right before he drifted to sleep.

And now, it’s morning. He’s cold, alone, heavily disoriented, and doesn’t know his own name.

He realized he doesn’t know your name either, and came to the disappointing realization that you hadn’t even left a note with your number before making your departure. With a frown, he realized he would probably never see you again.

[•••]

“There again? I thought you’d give up by now, buddy.”

Jack knew that Trevor knew that he was borderline desperate to meet you again, but it still made him indignant; he did not need to call him out.

“I just think it’s a fun place, Z. Doesn’t mean I’m going there for someone specifically.” He busied himself with the chips aisle, looking for the one weird flavor he’d been wanting. He could feel Trevor’s eye roll at the back of his head.

Yes, it’s been two goddamn months since that night.

Yes, he’s been suspiciously frequenting the bar since then.

No, there is no correlation between those events and you.

Trevor opened his mouth again, but that’s when they heard two voices arguing in the aisle next to him. Jack turned around and raised a brow at Trevor, a silent invitation to eavesdrop. He, of course, took the bait.

Now, when Trevor and Jack say they hate drama, they mean they hate being involved in it. Other people’s drama, however? They’re watching like hawks.

“Winnie, I don’t want to hear about it anymore.” Female. Familiar.

“But it’s only fair.” Female. Unfamiliar. “It’s that man’s fault his condom was too big either way! Plus, if he’s the fath—”

“The condom was too small of anything—”

At that moment, Jack moved a little too close to the rack of salsa dip, and rattled it hard, loudly enough for the ladies to pause their conversation. He cussed under his breath, hoping they would assume he just got there. He tried to ignore Trevor’s attempt at stifling his laugh.

“Excuse me? Are you alright?” You turn around the corner, and of course: It’s you, and Jack is elated.

He looks genuinely happy. You look like you just watched someone get skinned alive.

You immediately turn around, trying (and failing) to pretend like you didn’t see him. “Oh my god—Winnie, this is the guy. Save me.” You whisper desperately, watching Jack quickly fix the salsa dips in the corner of your eye before he turns to you fully.

“You—uh.” The words just won’t come out.

Trevor tried to save him. “Hi, im Trevor.” He sticks out his hand which you take. “You must be my one night stand-in law.” He grins.

Your eyes shift between him and Jack. “You’ve slept with him too?”

His hand goes limp in yours as Winnie graciously snorts with laughter. Luckily, that catches Trevor’s attention and he moves to greet her.

Jack decided, in that moment, that he just short circuited seeing you in sweatpants and a hood covering your head with strands of hair peeking out to frame your bare face. A contrast to when he first saw.

“Well, h-how have you been?” You ask awkwardly, wishing you could drop dead right about now.

“Pretty good. Yourself?” He leans gently against the shelf and crosses his arms, looking down at you with a small smile.

“Oh, I’ve been alright.” You laugh weekly and bring your hand up to rub your tired eyes; sleep was a privilege nowadays. You were about to indicate that you had to leave before stopping short at Winnie glaring holes in the side your face, knowing that your chances of escaping were gone and she wouldn’t let down until you told him. Winnie smiled warmly and turned to Jack, sticking her hand out.

“You must be Drew.”

“Jack.” He furrowed his eyebrows, shaking her hand. “That actually sounds nothing like Drew—”

“Oh, fuck, don’t worry about it, it was just a random name we ran with.” You laugh again, fiddling with the boxes in your hands.

Jack desperately wanted to say something like ‘you’ve talked about me?’ but it was clear that you were trying to avoid him like the plague, so he refrained from ruining his chances to talk to you any further.

Winnie whispered something to Trevor which made his eyes comically widen, then they pretended to busy themselves with the shelves of chocolates.

“You look nice.” Jack smiled, you really did look pretty. Tired, probably a little sick, but pretty. “Like, glowing-”

“Jesus, please, not a glow.” You groan, putting your face in your hands. Jack’s gaze drops to the boxes you were holding.

“What are those?”

Your breath caught in your throat. Him noticing was the final nail to the coffin. It made your situation real-er than ever.

With a supportive glance from Winnie, and a deep inhale, you look at Jack again. Into those pretty, azure eyes that drew you to him in the first place.

“Pregnancy tests?” You say meekly, though it sounded more like you were asking. You hated how weak it sounded. “Look I don’t even know if I even am pregnant—”

The salsa dip rack shook again as Jack held on to it. “Oh—”

“Listen, look,” you move closer to him, “you can literally never see me or the kid, if it exists, ever again. I’m financially stable and I have lots of friends here that support me, so—”

“Wait, you’re sure it’s mine?” His voice felt like an echo to himself.

“Uh—yeah. That’s part of the reason I left, I’ve never exactly done one-time things. And I only knew you for that one night, so I kind of panicked. Being with a stranger.” You fumble with the boxes again, your anxiety peeking because even though you shouldn’t care, his lack of response was stressful.

He seemed to notice that, because next thing he was putting both of his hands on your shoulders. It was weird but made you feel a little calmer.

“Hey—it’s not like I’m upset with you or anything, okay? I—uh, think you—we should first make sure you are pregnant.” He loosens his hold a bit and steps closer. “And if you plan on keeping it, I want to be there. For you and the kid, I mean. Stick around, y’know? I can’t imagine life without my dad.”

His sentiment made you heavily emotional; this was kind of intimate for people who barely knew each other, but intimacy is how you ended up here anyway.

You sniffle, nodding. You weren’t exactly sick, but you weren’t feeling your best.

Jack felt his heart go soft and he hugged you, enveloping you in much needed warmth. When you wrapped your arms around him, you caught Winnie’s eye over his shoulder and were sure of a few things;

One, If you were having a baby, you’re keeping it. You’re still young, but you’ve always wanted to be a young mother, even if it was with a father you knew better. Your support system was very fortunately intact, even without Jack.

And two, you were sure that Jack would keep his promise of ‘sticking around’.

[•••]

“So, like, what do you do?” Jack’s head snapped up to meet Winnie’s sharp gaze.

The four of them had just walked into your apartment and you locked yourself in the bathroom with the tests. Winnie and Trevor hit it off immediately but she was still skeptic of Jack.

“Hm?”

“Your job? Wait, don’t tell me you don’t—”

“I have a job.” Jack rolled his eyes “I play.” He replied shortly, his head still spinning.

“Play? Fuck does that mean? Like poker, the guitar, or what?” Winnie squinted her eyes. “If I catch anything weird about you, you’re out.” Jack didn’t miss the way Trevor grinned stupidly at her.

“I play hockey. Professionally. Just 20 minutes away, in Jersey.” Jack huffed, he didn’t like the added stress of appealing to your best friend.

“Hm. Interesting, can’t say I’ve ever heard of you, Drew—”

“Jack—”

“Hold on.” She typed something on her phone and turned it to him. “Is this you?” It is Jack’s instagram profile, so he nods. She scrolls through his following and quirks a brow, “your following looks like you just graduated from a private, all-girls high school.”

Jack doesn’t even know what to say to that, much less what it means, so he just stays quiet before the bathroom door unlocks.

“Winnie, 3 minute timer, please,” you say, drying your hands on a towel, eyeing the five tests lined up on the counter face down. You squeeze your eyes shut, feeling the anxiety crawl back up your spine.

You let yourself relax at Jack’s soothing back rubs, and observe quietly for a moment while he scowled at whatever Winnie and Trevor were making fun of him for. His jawline is just barely peppered with stubble and he smells really nice. You can see why he was the choice that night.

Jack is quick to look back at you, having to tilt his head slightly downwards as he catches the expression on your face.

“It’s going to okay,” he mouths.

And when you flipped over every test to see that you had a real life shit-machine growing inside of you, you believed him.

[•••]

Jack got off the phone with his mother with a small breath of relief. The hundreds of insecurities that initially made their way through his head were overshadowed by a feeling of happiness; his mother was quick to assure him that it won’t be that difficult to figure it out.

Winnie was kneeling in front of you on the couch, trying to be comforting. Or something like that.

“Kill that thing.”

“Winnie, what the hell?”

“Babe, you have work! You have other things to do! And—” she lowered her voice, “—Drew might not be around that much to help.” She straightened again. “If you really want to keep it then it’s up to you, though.” She added softly.

You appreciated Winnie’s outlook on your situation, but that wasn’t what you needed because you were really, genuinely, sure you were keeping the kid.

“For the third time, it’s Jack. Why—?”

“I’m sorry, she’s just like that.” You speak up, finding the small frown on Jack’s face rather endearing. “What—uh, what did your mom say?”

“She wants to meet you. She’s happy.”

“That’s really sweet.” You say with a yawn, exhausted from the days events. Jack’s mother seems nice, but you were too tired to feel scared of her at the moment.

Jack notices that you were tired and nudged Trevor so they leave, but not before everyone exchanged numbers.

[•••]

The next available weekend Jack’s mom could come over was in two weeks. Which meant he had to keep the little secret from everyone around him. Well, except Trevor.

Jack could feel himself already growing protective of his..son? daughter? Still, it was just insane to him that he was going to have a child. His own child.

He can handle the scrutiny, but he was afraid for you and how you would have to deal with all of the outside pressure.

He shrugged off the thoughts, chugged the rest of his beer, and decided to just sleep on it.

Waking up after a good rest, Jack realized he was more excited than anything. Who cares what people say? He’s always wanted kids and off the top of his head, he doesn’t know anyone better than you that he would have them with.

He’ll just have to be really impressive and devoted to gain your trust.

And that’s what he was going to do.

[fancyfeathers]

Happy thanksgiving, I hope it is going well🦃

Thank you for responding to my other ask about the flinching around the batfamily. But now another question has popped up in my head, what if Daughter reader just randomly picks one of the "siblings" to cling onto for dear life. But it backfires for the sibling because uh oh! Daughter Reader met their friend and suddenly boom she has a crush on them. Example Maybe: Tim? (I love Tim he's my favorite lol.) Daughter Reader sees his "subtleness" in obsession or whatever he likes to call it😒 Reader is chilling with Tim, then KON walks in and she never whipped her head around so fast. (Obviously Tim notices.) Now not only is Tim (or any other sibling of the batfamily you'd like to use) is dealing with a clingy reader, now they're dealing with said reader constantly asking them about their friend and occasionally stealing their phone to stare at pictures of said friend. (She's a little creepy she's been cooped up in a manor for like a decade by now give her a break she's trying her best.) OR! When the batsibling's friend comes back over reader gives them a drawing she made of them Thank you reading have a lovely Day/Night! - 🐈‍⬛Anon

Yandere Batfam w/ Wife/Mother!Darling & Daughter/Sister!Darling Masterlist

Ooooo this is giving me ideas

I did make Daughter!Darling younger than Damian so Kon might be a bit too old for her (or young… he was created in a lab, but that’s a whole other can of worms)

But this gave me an ideas for two scenarios that stem from this idea…

Taking the crush aspect out of this cause of age differences with the idea with Kon, like Tim brings him around to the house for the first time while Daughter!Darling is home from school or one of the many outings that Dick takes her on of his choosing. Connor is definitely friendly to her, Tim has definitely mentioned his little sister to him, how amazing she is, how adorable, how perfect-

She looks terrified when Damian came around looking for her, mentioning something about notes in class…

Then the second time he comes around to visit, he catches a glimpse of Bruce locking her bedroom door with her inside… who does that?

Then when he came around to see Tim and he walked into the living room and he saw his friends taking photos of her just sitting and doing schoolwork and she clearly looks uncomfortable.

He finds some excuse to have Tim leave the room so he can ask her…

“Are you okay?”

“N-no…”

He felt horrible for her, but he did not have anymore time to ask questions before Tim returned. Kon is not capable of taking care of a child but he knows people who definitely can.

It’s when she is at school and out on the swings alone, Damian scared away her friends again today and…

“Hello, mind if I sit by you?”

There is a man with glasses and a visitor’s pass that comes to speak with her and she lets him, he introduces himself as Clark Kent and he lets her connect the dots. He lets her know that she can speak freely and he is here to help her and just everything spills out with tears. Clark would be horrified by what he hears, this little girl is in danger and no one had cared enough to help her and-

“Hang on tight.”

There is just a quick moment before he picks her up and they are in the air with him taking her somewhere he’ll know she’ll be safe for now anyway, with his family.

He’ll explain things to Lois and Jon, but he is sure they will understand… they have to…

The other way I could see this scenario going is…

With the idea of when she starts having a boyfriend who is a member of the Court of Owls (I mentioned him in these posts, link, link, link, link)

But Damian would have probably have made friends to help with his cover, and of course there is the most perfect boy in school, talented, smart, kind, head of the student council, on many sports teams. Then when Damian began attending that school after Talia left him with Bruce, he was the one who was we so adamant about making him feel welcome, but of course it was a fake friendship on both sides. The boy had no real interest in being Damian’s friend, but he also needs to keep up his appearance.

He could honestly care less about Damian until when they come into his first period class and introduce a new student, Damian’s little sister and when the teacher asks for volunteers to show her around the classroom, his hand shoots up. Damian is fine enough with his friend to help his sister, he won’t get close-

That is until the end of the day when he sees her walking down the steps of the school with that boy, laughing and chatting with each other. It is fine, he is a family with a good reputation-

Then when he is supposed to come over for a school project for Damian’s and his science class, he is talking to his sister after they are done working and are waiting for his driver.

Then there is the time when they just went on summer break and she comes into Damian’s room and asks for the address of the boy’s summer home because they promised to write to each other and she had his address on her phone but she got it taken away since she would only need it to call the family and she-

Damian wants to pull out his hair more and more every time she mentions this boy. This goes on for years and into high school and it all comes to a boiling point where Damian catches them making out in the stairwell.

Oh my god he wants to kill them, wants to rip out his heart, wants to bang his head into the concrete over and over again. He restrains himself and only threatens him with some bruising and harsh words.

But after that nothing is the same.

His sister distances herself from Damian, he cuts off his friend, but then true colors begin to show to Damian, only Damian.

Like when he opens his locker and finds it defaced, threats, insults, and strangely enough a feather, like a signature, but to whom does it belong to?

The boy puts on his perfect facade and acts like he actually cares about Damian and as it he had nothing to do with it, but his laughter when he is talking to his group of friends just seems too loud, the kisses he shares with his sister are almost smug, and the perfect smile and the praise he receives from his teachers and classmates leaves a sour taste in Damian’s mouth.

He wished he had asked his father to have his sister homeschool.

[melobin]

so it’s been a while ! i really missed you all and i really missed being here but the last month hasn’t been great for me. i was really open about what happened and getting assaulted last month and i really appreciate how understanding you all were with me taking my time to recover from it and honestly it’s still really fresh, everything just feels a bit too real for me to properly cope with LMFAO.

everything took a real toll on my mental health and i’ve been in the depths as of late, i’ve barely been eating or sleeping, everything’s just a bit harder than it should be but i’m alive and pushing through and trying my hardest so i guess that’s what matters most.

i’m not abandoning melobin. i didn’t plan to take such a long time away i just couldn’t be around certain things and i had no motivation at all. i guess i felt a little guilty just disappearing so i did try and come back every so often but not as much as i’d have liked to. going forward though, i would like to talk about the future of melobin and what i have planned to do with the blog. there’s a few things i’d like to address.

kinktober will be continuing. i know it’s not october anymore, lmfao, but i will be finishing her !! i have all the days planned out and i will finish that, i will also post the anton porn plot fic i promise lmfao.

with the news of seunghan’s unfortunate departure from riize and the news of his solo debut, he will still be featured on melobin. however, i will not be adding him to future fic series and full group posts. i understand this will upset people but i thought hard about it and i guess i just feel like it’ll be easier on me to have less people to focus on when it comes to doing bigger projects on melobin. i will still be writing for him, just not with riize.

the past few weeks i’ve been surrounded by all sorts of drama and such with my name being mentioned and brought up in spaces it doesn’t need to be as well as having received countless negative asks about me. i understand how difficult this whole this has been, but please do not project your anger onto me. i frankly have a whole lot more to deal with than the ongoings of kpop and i know some people find that bothersome or upsetting, believe me i know, but i have no say and no power on what has happened so please stop treating me as if i made the decision that sm made. i still stand with everything i’ve said and i don’t take back any of it, i am however understanding of other peoples positions here and i respect that, i hope you can all respect me too when i say i just want the best for all seven of them and ill support them no matter what that includes.

i’ve always loved writing and it’s not something i just want to give up on so i won’t, i’m hoping next week i can slowly ease myself back into writing and slowly begin to be back here, especially for christmas! it’s also my birthday next week so i’m trying to be a little more upbeat and positive.

i appreciate you all reading this and if you have anything negative or hateful to say, please just don’t 🩷 if you want to unfollow me you can but sending hate gets you no where

[finalexit]

it kind of seems like missing the point entirely if you dont think curly was actively sweeping it under the rug. thats the significance of the whole "dead pixel" conversation. there is something that is bothering anya that she points out (the dead pixel) and he chooses not to search for it. he "sees the bigger picture" which the dead pixel gets lost in. it's plain as day that his role in the story is the one who overlooks/looks away

i think its also understating what curly has actually done. like, literally bits of his interactions with anya that were in the game but not mentioned in the post. like, when she hid the gun, and he says that they never did HER psych eval. implying she's losing her mind because she feels like she's in danger from this person who sexually assaulted her (*cough* misogyny *cough*). and thennnnn curly goes to talk to jimmy and is basically like "dude things will be ok." trying to reassure jimmy, not the person who feels like she's actively in danger. and you can see that from a perspective of "he's trying to appease jimmy" but i think its more accurate that he saw anya as the unhinged one (again, just based on how he talked to her and treated her immediate concern).

not talking about you explicitly OP, but this particular viewpoint of excusing curly and his complicity is 1. very common among the fandom and 2. exhibits the kind of issues Mouthwashing is addressing! sometimes people aren't evil, but they still do very shitty things. in this case, curly isn't a bad guy necessarily, but the reality is that he learned his friend had raped another crewmate, and his only course of action was talking to jimmy (only once anya is at her breaking point of course). not using his position as captain to afford anya extra protection (she says herself that she knows he wouldnt allow her to use the gun. not sure if thats bc of a prior offscreen conversation or what), not even using his conversation with jimmy to "straighten him out." he didn't just do nothing, he did worse than that because sitting there in a position of power and doing nothing while one subordinate harms another is the same as letting it happen. it's the same as giving it the OK.

to the last point, yeah i don't get where people are assuming curly knew jimmy is a "monster." i think in curly's mind, jimmy is literally just A Guy with some issues who is still generally good

i think, like with all fandoms, people end up in this very black-and-white headspace where curly is either entirely culpable to the point where even just letting jimmy on the ship is a crime he's committed, and then there's the other side where curly was just doing his best and ultimately isn't at all complicit in what took place on the ship.

imo, (part of) the point of the game is that he very much is complicit, but complicity doesn't have to look like evil scheming. that's the thing. you can enable sexual assault and abuse in a workplace as an authority figure, and you might still be generally well-meaning. you might not want anyone to get hurt. and yet, for reasons, you let these things slide, and people get hurt. that's how it is sometimes.

I’ll admit there is one thing Curly could have done to give Anya the security and that was to suggest for her to sleep in med bay.

But in a situation such as that, it is probably considerable that he wasn’t thinking clearly. “I will talk to Jimmy” doesn’t mean Curly was going to sweep it under the rug. When we are faced with the wrong doing of our friends, our immediate reaction is to confront them on it, most of the time. Depending on you as a person. I am confrontational and if my friend fucking raped someone, the first thing I want to do is talk to them. I would to know why they did such a thing. I would want to know for my own closure. Curly stating that he wishes to communicate with Jimmy is a neutral statement, it isn’t indicative of complicity. It isn’t indicative of supporting him.

Also where are yall getting the idea that Curly must have known his friend is a monster? Jimmy struggling on Earth before his job is vague. He’s canonically impoverished as the devs implied when Jimmy thinks hobbies are for people with money. Jimmy has a canonical problem with psychosis. Being impoverished and mentally ill are, in fact, struggles. Given how volatile Jimmy is with a self-destructive victim complex to boot, the struggle narration in the game can very well mean that. It doesn’t imply Jimmy has a criminal record. It doesn’t imply Jimmy must have raped someone in the past.

[daniiiboo]

mv1- champion

summary- after the last vegas gp, you and max have a cute moment :,)

dani's thoughts- AHHH! sorry it took me so long to post this, my procrastination boooo :( but congrats to max!!! im so happy for him :D

warning- uh nu uh nothin :)

word count- 1139

Bright lights of the Las Vegas Strip shone through the night, casting colorful luminescence across the city. The neon signs and the hustle of the crowd seemed almost like a world of their own, but inside the race paddock, everything was laser-focused on one thing: Max Verstappen's chance at his fourth World Championship.

It was an intense weekend, the energy palpable in the air, with fans lining the grandstands, their eyes fixed on the Red Bull driver. You’d been by Max’s side throughout the season, traveling the globe, sharing in both the highs and lows of his journey. Tonight, it all came down to this. If he could finish strong and secure the points he needed, he’d be crowned World Champion once again.

You were in the paddock, your heart racing as the laps ticked down. Max had been flawless all weekend, his precision in qualifying, the strategy in the race. You could see it in his eyes. He was on the edge of greatness. The fourth title was within his grasp.

From your vantage point alongside the pit wall, the roar of the cars passing was barely audible, yet tension hung thick in the air. You saw Max flying past every lap as he overtook the others with his gliding Red Bull through corners. Each turn was proof of the amount of work and commitment he has been putting into this. The end of the race was close by. He had done it. Max Verstappen was going to win the 2024 Formula 1 World Championship. He had secured enough points to clinch the title with a race to spare, an achievement few drivers could boast. The whole Red Bull garage erupted into a chorus of cheers, but you didn't hear them, not really. The only sound one could hear was the beating of one's own heart, like a drum with excitement and pure pride.

When Max crossed the line with the checkered flag waved above him, time literally came to a standstill. It all felt like a dream-a surreal moment when the world stopped for the feat that was just accomplished by this driver. Suddenly, the radio crackled as his race engineer's familiar voice cut through, congratulating Max on his fourth World Championship.

Max let out a deep, heavy breath, and on his lips, a beaming smile formed. Not a celebrating-after-a-win smile, but something a bit deeper, something that had been earned.

A few moments later, Max pulled into the pits, his Red Bull team surrounding him, ecstatic, clapping him on the back. You stood there, frozen for a moment, watching him as he climbed out of his car. His face was hidden behind the helmet, but you could see the way his shoulders relaxed, a quiet relief washing over him.

And then, his eyes met yours.

And then there it was-the look so familiar yet so full of emotion, love, and gratefulness. He walked up to you while the people surrounding him chanted and cheered, but at this moment, nothing else mattered but the two of you.

You stepped forward as he approached, your heart swelling with pride. You'd always believed in him, in his ability to be the best-but watching him win his fourth World Championship, standing right there in Las Vegas, made it all so real. The fact that you were here for the entire journey was what really hit you.

Max came to a stop right in front of you, yanking his helmet off to reveal wet hair and a tired, yet triumphant expression.

"Max," you whispered, your voice hoarse from emotion.

He didn't say a word, instead reaching for you, pulling you into a tight hug. His hands were trembling, a rare show of vulnerability for the usually composed driver.

“I did it,” he whispered, his voice full of awe. “I really did it. Four titles…”

You pulled back just enough to look him in the eyes, brushing your fingers gently across his face. “You’re incredible, Max. You’ve worked so hard for this. I’m so proud of you.”

A smile stretched across his face, his eyes glowing with both joy and disbelief. “We did it together.”

You shook your head, laughing through the tears that were threatening to fall. 

“You did it, Max. You’re the one who put in the work, who never gave up, who fought through everything. I’m just… I’m just lucky to be here with you.”

Max chuckled, wiping a tear from your cheek with his thumb.

 "Lucky? I'm the lucky one. You've been by my side through every race, every challenge, every sleepless night. I couldn't have done it without you.”

There was something so grounding about Max in that moment. In the midst of celebrations, press, and flashing cameras, he remained the same old Max one had always known. He was humble, dedicated, and unyielding in his way to greatness. Yet what made him so special was how he never forgot the people who had been there to support him-especially you.

As the cheers from the Red Bull garage grew loud, you could feel the pull of the moment, the whirlwind of emotions, the feeling of watching history. The team swarmed around them, and Max turned back toward them, giving high-fives and accepting congratulations, but his hand was still in yours. His fingers were tangled with yours, holding onto you like he did not want to let go.

It was all happening so fast, and yet you were in no hurry. You would savor this moment, the moment when Max Verstappen became a four-time World Champion in Las Vegas, with you by his side.

As the celebrations had died down, and the crowd started to clear out, Max took your hand and led you out of the paddock. Above, the lights of Las Vegas shone brightly on the Strip, and with them, Max turned that very same smile to you.

"What do you say we head out and celebrate?" he asked, full of excitement, yet strangely quieted.

You smiled, knowing this moment would stick in your head forever. "I think we've earned it."

Max tightened his grip on your hand, leaned in to brush a kiss against your mouth, and then he'd take you out into the night, together, off to celebrate his win really like Max Verstappen style. The world had come to see his greatness-again-but you? Just there, sharing in this victory with the man that you loved.

And as you walked hand in hand down the streets of Las Vegas, all lit up, you could not help but feel your chest swell with pride. This was his moment, yes-but it was also yours, because in the end, it was about the journey that you have shared together.

Max Verstappen had his fourth title in the bag, and with you by his side, nothing was impossible.

[ladykailitha]

The Good Elf Part 1

Hello, it's December so that means Christmas!! For the next four weeks, I'm going to be posting two chapters a day until the Sunday before Christmas. And if it stays the eight chapters I'm planning it should be all out on time. (fingers crossed, it is going smoothly soo...)

Summary: Steve is a business man charged with planning his dad's company Christmas party. Christmas has never been a good day for him, so he's a bit of Scrooge as far as the holiday is concerned. So when he meets tree farmer Eddie Munson, the man decided to show Steve what Christmas means. And maybe with a little Christmas magic Steve will find more than just a love for the holiday, he'll find love for Christmas too.

~

On October 31st, I gathered my best elves and explained my problem.

Dear elves, it has come to my attention in the light of recent events Christmas cheer is down nearly a thousand percent. There aren’t that many of us, so Mrs. Claus and I have come to the conclusion that we should send out ambassadors to places that need it the most. You don’t have to turn the whole town, just one person. Because that one person will have a ripple effect that will spread to others.

These are the list of places we think you’ll do the most good:

I listed off all the towns and I turn to the last elf in the line.

“I have something special in mind for you.”

“Me?” the elf squeaked.

“Yes, I’m sending you to Hawkins, Indiana. I think you’ll do well there.”

“Am I being punished?”

I let out a jolly laugh.

“No little one, not everyone is fit for every job. This is to see what you can do and if this doesn’t work out. We’ll find something else.”

~

It wasn’t that Steve hated his job. No, of course not. He hated that his boss was his dad and everyone shunned him for it. Even though he had gone to school for it same as they had, but nope. Just because he was the boss’s son, it was nepotism. He hated the long hours. He hated the way they were only surface level do-gooders. Paying only lip service to causes like cancer research, the environment, and the queer community, all the while the bosses lined their pockets with bigger and bigger bonuses, while his coworkers and his, yes his, wages stagnated.

But most of all he hated the way the company did Christmas. All talk about food banks and giving to the poor, while throwing lavish parties and big giveaways to the employees.

So no, he didn’t hate his job. He just hated everything about it.

“Steven!” Mr. Harrington boomed, throwing open the door to his office. “I’m going to need you to throw the Christmas party this year. Dolores is out with COVID again and won’t be able to set everything up.”

Steve bit back a groan of annoyance. He sucked at planning.

But before he could launch a protest that sure she could do it from home or find someone else to do it, Mr. Harrington’s phone rang out loudly in the room.

Mr. Harrington held up a finger to shush him while he checked his message.

“Well, damn,” he grunted. “I’m going to have to find a new secratary. That was her husband. Her funeral is on Saturday at 10am. I’m sure you’ll do great.”

He wandered off muttering to himself, wondering if he could get a hot blond this time and whether or Steve’s mother would even notice.

Steve buried his face in his hands and let out a muffled scream. He pinched himself and even picked up a paper to see if he could read it. But alas, he was not dreaming. This wasn’t a nightmare.

He was in actual fucking hell.

~

“Steven!” Mr. Harrington bellowed, storming into his apartment two days later. “One of the IT guys, Milton, Morris or something–”

“Mitch?” Steve asked with a raised eyebrow.

Mr. Harrington snapped his fingers. “That’s the one! He managed to get into Delores’s computer and get a list of the vendors and things for the Christmas party. I had him email it to you.”

Steve wandered over to his phone and picked it up. Sure enough there was a very detailed list of everything from decorators and caterers, to budgets for each. It was very well organized.

“Yeah, everything looks good,” he murmured and set his phone back down. He pulled out a vest and suit coat and began putting them on.

“Just one small change,” Mr. Harrington said. “The board wants three of those ‘rent a tree’ deals instead of one big one.”

Steve frowned. “A what now?”

“It’s very eco-friendly,” Mr. Harrington said. “Basically you rent the tree and then give it back for them to be used again the next year, then after they reach a certain height the get planted in the forest.”

“Okay.” Steve wasn’t sure there was anything else he could say to that.

Mr. Harrington blinked at him. “Where are you going so dressed up on a Saturday? You got a meeting I didn’t see on your schedule?”

“I’m going to the funeral, Dad.”

“Whose funeral?” Mr. Harrington asked, his brow wrinkling in confusion, bordering on anger.

Steve paused in pursuit of his nicer dress shoes and turned to him slowly as if he was trying not spoke a predator into attacking.

“Dolores Gardener, your former secretary,” he said just as slow as he turned. Part of him wanted to hold his hands up in a show of submission, but he wasn’t sure how well he would react to that.

Then Mr. Harrington’s face cleared. “Oh, so you drew the short straw. You poor bastard. I already sent them flowers so don’t bother on that front. You mother is demanding your presence at dinner tomorrow. Seven o’clock, sharp. You know how she gets when you’re late.”

He left as loudly as he came, and Steve sat down hard on the bed. He buried his head in his hands. This was going to be a long winter.

~

Steve supposed that the best part about doing the Christmas party was that he was not only given a blank check for all this shit, but that he had been given the time off needed to get it all done.

He didn’t have to show up in the office for anything until the 24th, unless he needed a signature for anything.

He started his hunt for the trees first, mainly because the place the board wanted to use closed up two years ago and they had only picked the first name that came up on a Google search.

He found a rent-a-tree place in nearby Hawkins and decided to take a look.

Steve got into the back seat of his father’s company car and tapped on the roof, to let the drive know he was in and ready to go.

“This seems like quite a distance to get a Christmas tree,” Murray, the driver said, looking at Steve in the rear view mirror.

Steve let out a long sigh. “Yeah, but it’s what Dad wants...”

“And whatever Clint Harrington wants, he gets,” Murray agreed, resigned and pulled into traffic.

They passed in silence as Steve looked up Hawkins. He found out that the town were really big on Christmas each year. Complete with a Christmas village, Santa reigning supreme on a red velvet throne; an ice skating rink set up in the middle of town, though you could ice skate on either of the nearby lakes as well; ice sculpting contests; huge hills for sledding; sleigh rides. Like the whole town transformed into the North Pole from Nov. 1st to Dec. 31st. Two whole months of Christmas.

Steve thought that would have been his own personal hell.

He tossed his phone on the seat next to him and looked back up at Murray. “Oh, I meant to ask, did you get that dog you were looking at?”

Murray’s eyes lit up. “I did.” And began to tell Steve all about the mad cap adventures of Scamp, the corgi.

Finally they were pulling up to the tree farm. In bright festive letters were the words Munson’s Nursery and Tree Farm.

Steve stepped out of the car and looked around. There were so many trees of various types of fir and suddenly he was instantly overwhelmed. He started wandering around and soon he was lost. Not just his direction but what he was supposed to be looking for. He felt like Charles Brown. Like he was going to pick the wrong tree and Christmas was going to be ruin.

His eyes started welling up and he just wanted to go home. He turned around suddenly and bumped into someone who had been coming up behind him.

“Shit!” the man cried out as Steve yelled, “Sorry!”

Then the man’s arms came up to steady him. “Hey are you okay?”

“No,” Steve said with the shake of his head. “I’m supposed to get three trees for the company Christmas party and the person who usually does it, passed away recently and my dad picked me to her place but I’m so overwhelmed!”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” the man murmured, rubbing Steve’s arms slowly. “Take a deep breath there, sweetheart. You’re hyperventilating.”

Steve took a deep breath and then another until he could see straight. And in the light falling snow the man in front of him cast an ethereal figure. He had long dark curls and dimpled grin and the biggest brown eyes Steve had even seen.

“There you are,” the man said gently. “I’m Eddie. My uncle runs the nursery, so lets find him and we can talk about what you need and for how long, okay?”

Steve took another deep breath and nodded. “Thank you. I’m Steve.”

“Come follow me, Stevie,” Eddie said cheerfully.

He turned a corner and spotted a volunteer. “Hey, Robbie, did you see which direction Uncle Wayne went?”

She peered around the area and then pointed. “Last I saw him he was in the Douglas firs with Mrs. Click.”

Eddie grimaced. “I wonder if she’ll trying grade him for his ‘knowledge’ of trees.” He shook his head and bid Steve to follow him.

They turned a couple of corners and there was a nice older man with thinning hair and a soft smile talking with what Steve assumed was pickled lemon come to life. Everything about her was pinched and yellow. And angry.

Very, very angry.

“Uncle Wayne!” Eddie said cheerfully. “I have a doosey for ya. This gentleman needs three trees for his work. I’ll take over for you if you want to help him out?”

Wayne smiled that same crinkle-eyed, dimple smile his nephew had and turned to Steve. “First time buy a live tree?”

“First time buying any tree,” Steve admitted dryly. “Not much of a Christmas person really.”

Eddie whipped around. “How can you not love Christmas?” he said, scandalized, holding his heart in his hands. “It’s only the most magical day of the year!”

“Young man, are you going to help me or not?” Mrs. Click hissed. “I’m looking for a Douglas fir and these aren’t Douglas firs!”

Wayne led Steve away as Eddie looked around himself in confusion. “Ma’am, these are Douglas firs. Maybe describe what you’re looking for and we see if we have it...”

Steve turned to Wayne. “Is he going to be okay with her? She reminds me of my mom and not in a good way.”

Wayne threw his head back and laughed. “He’ll be fine. He’ll play dumb until either they figure out what she wants or she goes elsewhere. Happens every year.”

Steve looked behind him, worriedly, but followed Wayne to a nice little hut in the center of the maze of trees. Wayne unlocked the door and sat him down.

“All right,” Wayne said sliding over an info-graphic that had roughly a dozen or so different trees. “We don’t have every tree on that list, but if you like one of the ones that isn’t I can try to find you something close enough.”

Steve pulled the nicely drawn poster closer to him. “Wow, I didn’t realize that there was so many.”

“That’s fair,” Wayne grabbed the poster and slid it off to the side. “So lets narrow it down. What’s the tree going to be for? Inside or outside?”

“Inside,” Steve said quickly. “The ceilings are fifteen feet.”

Wayne nodded in approval. “That’s good that you know that. Most people don’t and try buying a fifteen footer when they only have ten foot ceilings. Is it going to be lit? Decorated?”

Steve nodded. Another answer he knew right away.

“Will there be presents under it?” Wayne asked warmly.

“No,” he said with a small, fragile smile. “It’s for an office.”

Wayne pulled out a piece of paper and started jotting down Steve’s answers. “Right, any other requirements?”

Steve chewed on the skin around his nails. “Do you have the rent-a-tree program? My fa–I mean my boss was hoping to go green this year.”

Wayne’s eyes narrowed at the slip up but said nothing. Instead he pulled out a list from the top drawer of the desk. “These are the trees that are available to be rented out. Most of them are Douglas firs, like the ones where you found me. Though we do have a lovely trio of Fraser firs that are about six feet tall.”

Steve pulled the poster over to him again and then nodded. “I’ll take all three.”

Wayne blinked at him for a moment. “This will be an office, I’m assuming. Do you have house keeping that can water the trees?”

“Yes, sir,” Steve said. “We have other live plants year round and I have already cleared it with the head of housekeeping before coming here.”

Wayne nodded appreciatively. “Sounds like you’ve got everything figured out. Why were you so nervous before?”

Steve ducked his head and blushed. “It’s my first year doing it and I’m not really into the whole holiday. I was worried I’d get it wrong, especially since I really don’t care, but the people I’m buying for do.”

Wayne nodded again and started pulling up the paper work for the trees. “If you can write the name of the company, the address, and the date they need to be delivered by, I’ll ring you up a bill of sale.”

“Great.”

He started filling out the information and was almost done when Eddie walked back in with a wide grin and a check in hand.

“That saucy minx tried to get me to tie the tree to her car before she paid,” he said easily. “Can you believe it?”

Wayne chuckled. “Yes. Does it every year. Would you move our rentable Frasers, our friend here will be taking all three.”

Eddie’s eyebrows wagged. “Friend indeed! I’ll be right on it.” He got this grin on his face as Steve pulled out the checkbook from his briefcase. “You said you were planning your work Christmas do, right?”

Steve handed the check to Wayne who then gave him a receipt in return, then he turned to Eddie. “Well, sure. I’ve got to buy all the decorations and lights and all that jazz. Why do you ask?”

Eddie licked his lips slowly. “You see, I’ve got friends who might be able to help you out with some of that stuff.”

Steve blinked at him for a moment. “What do you get out of it?”

“Let me show you the fun side of Christmas,” Eddie said with an even bigger grin. “You get everything you need, my friends get your company’s business, it’s win/win/win for everyone. What do you say?”

Steve snapped his briefcase shut and stuck out his hand. “I think you’ve got yourself a deal.”

Eddie could barely contain his glee. “Just wait until I tell Robin, she thought for sure you’d say no!”

Steve threw his head back and laughed.

~

Part 2

The italics are Santa, if that's not quite clear.

Tag List: TEN SLOTS REMAINING

1- @itsall-taken @redfreckledwolf @zerokrox-blog @sadisticaltarts @dolphincliffs

2- @gregre369 ​@a-little-unsteddie @chaosgremlinmunson @cryptid-system @kultiras

3- @maya-custodios-dionach @goodolefashionedloverboi @val-from-lawrence @carlyv @wonderland-girl143-blog

4- @bookbinderbitch @bookworm0690 @forgottenkanji @dreamercec @blondie1006

5- @yikes-a-bee @awkwardgravity1 @genderless-spoon @fearieshadow @thesecondfate

6- @dragonmama76 @ellietheasexylibrarian @thedragonsaunt @useless-nb-bisexual @disrespectedgoatman

7- @counting-dollars-counting-stars @tinyplanet95 @ravenfrog @swimmingbirdrunningrock @lingeringmirth

8- @gutterflower77 @a-lovely-craziness @just-a-tiny-void @w1ll0wtr33 @beelze-the-bubkiss

[nickistat]

AITA for trying to win back my husband after i dropped him from the sky?

Listen. I know how this sounds. I(M, 180ish) and my husband (M, 60ish) have been going through what I'd call a rough patch in our marriage. after our daughter (F, 30ish) left home he fell into a depression. I was miserable too, as no matter what I did I could not win him back over. for years I was neglected, only for our daughter to return home after her abandonment and demand that he leave me to travel with her. The gall! I wish i was surprised, but my husband was ready to abandon 30 years of marriage at the first sight of our child in years. I will admit, I got a bit mad. I'm prone to yelling, and I may have grabbed my daughter by the throat. not my proudest moment, but my husband insisted on escalating things into a full brawl. I was not for this, but after much pressing, i flew high into the sky and dropped him. I will say that I regret this and have apologized profusely on countless occasions. However it was not a fatal drop, and it was only a few months before he was recovered. I have since been showering him with gifts and apologies, my best attempts to make amends. both he and my daughter are only responding with hate and vitriol. after ages of trying I'm finally starting to wonder- AITA?

Update: because a lot of you have been commenting about our age gap i'll try to clear some things up. we met when i was 150 and he was 33, a fully grown man running his own business and caring for his family. it's not like i preyed upon a young boy with no life for himself. anyway, who else am i meant to date at my age?? also if you guys had met our daughter you wouldn't be as mad about the whole assaulting her thing.

Update 2: okay so I have some good news and bad news. I was able to win him back, and we returned to our happy life for a good while. I tried to make amends with our daughter, but, well. she plotted my murder. I type this from a dump with my throat slit. I may have fumbled

[creepyclothdoll]

I set Angel Free

All of this is gonna sound pretty mean but let me preface this by saying that this girl, Angel, thought she was God’s gift. And I mean that in the most literal sense. Like she’d literally introduce herself by saying, 

“My name is Angel, because I’m a gift from Heaven.”

She’d say it with this smile that was so fake and sickly-sweet you could taste your teeth rotting just looking at it. All her mannerisms were stolen from disney movies, like how she’d talk in this high-pitched little girl voice that she thought made her seem so cute. Like, yeah, yeah, you’re supposed to be nice to people like that, but it was so hard to tolerate her. 

So we messed with her. It wasn’t because she was in a wheelchair, I wanna make that clear. I don’t have a problem with people in wheelchairs. Just Angel. You’d feel the same way if you knew her. Honestly everyone did. 

She literally didn’t know where babies came from. Like one time my friends were joking about having Nick Jonas’s babies and Angel was like “how would you make the baby his?” And we had to literally explain to her where babies come from and ask where she thought they came from. She said, and I quote,

“When a mommy makes a very special wish, and gives it a special kiss and sends it to God, God cuts a piece of Heaven in the shape of a baby and wraps it in the wish and sends it back to the mommy, to grow up and be loved and kept safe on the earth forever.”

This was, by far, the stupidest thing I ever heard in my entire life. So of course I responded by telling her her mommy was lying to her, most likely because she was a whore. 

This made everyone at lunch laugh really hard because her mom, Ms CJ, was the school’s frumpiest old cat lady, and she literally had those 80’s coke-bottle glasses like that guy from Trailer Park Boys and the idea of her getting sexed up for dollar bills was enough to make you piss yourself laughing. 

Angel started crying and doing that annoying pouting thing. Frankly I doubt she even knew what a whore was, just that it was bad. I think she wanted to storm off, but it’s not like she could go very far. Which I pointed out as well, to uproarious laughter. 

Okay again, I don’t have an issue with people in wheelchairs. It was just really easy to mess with her. But this was the incident that, for some reason, made everyone think of me as the Designated Angel Watchman. Like, any time Angel did anything weird and cringey, everyone would look at me like they were Jim from the Office and I was the camera. And then if I didn’t say something funny about it, they’d get all disappointed. But when I did say something funny, it became the new Angel Thing Of The Week that everyone would be saying in the halls between classes, and I’d feel like a genius. Did it go too far sometimes? Sure. But that’s not my fault. All Angel ever had to do was act like a normal person for once and it all would have stopped. 

Angel was homeschooled her whole life until seventh grade, which is probably why she was so weird. 

I wanna be clear– she wasn’t like, mentally disabled or anything like that. That would make me look pretty bad. She was just weird. She was always singing by herself– pop songs, disney princess songs, sometimes songs in japanese from anime. She was convinced she had the best voice in the class, and flaunted it all the time like she thought we were gonna be impressed. She wore these huge ugly cat sweaters with glitter and frills every single day. 

And any time we watched a movie in class, she’d laugh this awful snickering long laugh at ANY joke and then bawl her goddamn eyes out if there was even a little bit of a sad part. It was so annoying!

She refused to do anything outside her comfort zone– no scary stories, no new foods, no games she’d never played before. She turned her nose up at anything unfamiliar.

So let me be clear: Angel deserved most of what we did to her. 

But she didn’t deserve what I did that last day.

Before I met Angel, I thought Ms CJ was okay. After, though, I realized she was batshit. She only let Angel come to our school for seventh grade because she knew she’d be Angel’s homeroom teacher and that she’d be able to flit in and coddle her throughout the day. Ms CJ was Angel’s constant guardian, which should be humiliating for anyone who has shame, but Angel loved the attention. She’d beg Ms CJ to stay with her longer every time she popped in during class. And that sucked, because I couldn’t say shit about anything cringe Angel did when Ms CJ was around, so I missed a lot of really good opportunities to mess with her. 

Ms CJ always sat with her daughter at lunch, which was honestly bad parenting because there was no way Angel would ever be able to make any friends like that. Ms CJ never let Angel join the rest of us for recess. Or for field trips. Once during a group project in French class, as a joke, I invited Angel to a made-up party in the woods. Angel replied by saying,

“I can’t go if it’s in the woods, silly! My mommy doesn’t let me outside!”

She said this like it was the most normal thing in the world for her, so I asked some clarifying questions. She explained, in her girly sing-song voice, that she’s not ever allowed to be outside for more than a few seconds at a time, and only when her mommy is there to hold her hand. 

“My mommy doesn’t want me to get lost,” she said.

“It’s not like you can run away,” I joked.

“I can run,” Angel replied, pouting. “Look.” She kicked her legs slightly. I heard the clack of chains. 

That was the first time I ever noticed that Angel was shackled around her ankles. 

“I run all the time at home,” Angel bragged. “I run alllll over, over all the rooms. I wish I could run here too, but it’s too dangerous. The windows,” she added, like that would clarify it. I was baffled. So she didn’t even need the wheelchair.

“Um, why are you chained? Are you like, under house arrest or something?” I asked.

“No. My mommy just doesn’t want me to get lost. She’s the only one with the key.”

“Your mommy sounds like a psycho. You should call the cops,” I replied.

The French teacher overheard her crying and she got me sent to the principal’s office again. But I swear this time I wasn’t being smart or anything, I was genuinely freaked out for her. I told my friends, who all agreed with me that it was weird. But I guess I hadn’t been the first one to notice the chains. The others who had assumed it was because Angel was like, prone to fits or something. That made sense for Angel, but it still made me feel weird and didn’t sit right.

My mommy doesn’t want me to get lost.

I started to feel sorry for her. She was still weird and annoying, but she was weird and annoying because her mom was out of her mind and wouldn’t let her be a normal kid. How was she supposed to learn to be normal if she couldn’t even go outside, for god’s sake? 

I still messed with Angel when she did weird stuff like quote anime characters in class and bring stuffed animals to school. But if it was ever just her and me, I was nice to her and asked her stuff about her life. 

Her favorite movie was The Little Mermaid. No, she had never been to summer camp. Her favorite time of the week was church. She disliked onions and wanted to be a vegetarian except that her mom was very insistent about her getting enough protein in her diet. She loved those Warrior cat books and wanted to be a veterinarian someday. She didn’t have a dad. Ms CJ took the shackles off her ankles only once they were inside their house and all the doors and windows were closed and locked. That was also when Ms CJ took the locked metal bar off of her chair so she could get up. The bar went over her waist and prevented her from standing. She wore those big ugly cat sweaters every day so we wouldn’t see it. Her mom didn’t want people to know about her special condition, which, as far as I could tell, was all made-up. Any time I asked about her “condition,” she’d just say some stuff about being a very special heaven baby or whatever.

“Do you ever think about running away?” I asked finally. “Why don’t you just… leave?”

She looked shocked.

“Of course not!” she said. “I love my mommy. Where would I even go?” She shuddered visibly. 

The shudder pissed me off. I blew up at her and called her a whiny scaredy baby until she cried, and I got sent to the principal again. 

 She didn’t even want to be normal. That’s what pissed me off the most. 

It was springtime, and the snow was finally mostly gone. I’d been in Mr Bevends’ science class before, so I knew what to expect that day– first real nice day of spring was always a “class outside” day. We’d go out and look at moss and leaf buds and stuff and he’d talk about natural changes during the season. It was all a big excuse for us to get outside– no one liked it more than Mr Bevends himself. He was so excited to announce we were taking class outside, he didn’t even notice Angel’s face go stark white as he led the rest of the class out the doors.

“I– I can’t–” she stuttered, but I interrupted her.

“It’s the most beautiful day in months,” I said. “It’s a perfect day. You’ll love it.”

“I’m not allowed,” she whispered, embarrassed. 

“You wanna be a baby forever?” I said. “Come on. You’ve never broken a single rule in your life. Live a little.”

After a long moment, Angel nodded. She followed me out the back doors of the school, onto the sidewalk. I walked next to her for awhile. She looked scared, but also fascinated by the dripping icicles from the roof gutter above us, and the ice-blue sky above, and the rows of black trees stretching up into the air. 

“It’s cold,” she said. 

“Yeah, that happens when you’re outside for more than a few seconds.”

“I think… I like the cold.”

We caught up to the rest of the science class, and listened to Mr Bevends talk about leaves and crap. Angel oscilated between this vibrating excitement and a frightened, hunted look, like her mom was gonna show up at any second and punish her for disobeying and doing one normal thing in her life. Angel touched the trees reverently. My friends made fun of her for “fondling the foliage.” I didn’t join in this time. I had bigger things planned.

When we broke off into groups of two, I went with Angel. My friends knew I was up to something great then, so they followed us, chuckling eagerly. I grinned back at them when Angel wasn’t looking.

We were supposed to identify different types of trees in the woods behind the school. I helped push Angel’s chair up the hill– it was insanely heavy. The wheels snagged on the muddy grass, but it didn’t matter. It’s not like she actually needed the thing.

“What are you doing?” Angel asked with rising terror as I leaned over her and produced the key. 

Everyone knew Mr Bevends always had class outside the first nice day of spring. It was really easy to slip the key from Ms CJ’s lanyard when she always left it out on her desk during homeroom. It was the one with little white wings on the chain. 

“I’m setting you free,” I said. I unlocked the shackles around her feet first, then the bar around her waist. She screamed at me to stop the entire time, but I knew I was doing the right thing. Someone had to teach her to be independent. Someone had to throw her out of her comfort zone. 

And that’s what I did. I set Angel free.

Angel rose from the chair. 

And rose. And rose.

Her shoes went over her head. She kicked her legs wildly as they drifted rapidly upwards. Angel shrieked and tried to grab onto the top of the chair– the handles, even trying to clutch a handful of my hair– desperate to stay anchored to the ground. But it was too late. She was already six feet in the air. 

Then twelve. 

Then thirty.

I couldn’t do anything other than watch on in shock as Angel shot up into the sky like a helium balloon. She twisted and clawed at the open air. 

It happened in seconds. One second, we were watching Angel make frantic grabbing motions at the ground, howling with terror, and the next second all we could see of her was the glint of the sunlight on her glittery pink cat sweater as she disappeared up into the vast emptiness above.

When Mr Bevends came to see what was the matter, all any of us could do was to point up. But by then, she was just a pinprick against the deep, endless blue sky. 

Then there was nothing.

[fanficsbysteve]

Authors Note: Sometimes I’m just scrolling through Tumblr and see some of all you amazing people with your head cannons and I feel a need to write a whole ass fic from it. Today’s sponsor was a post by @talktonytome and an Anon that was sent to them so I had to write something. So, thank you for this idea and hopefully Cia and their anon who sent it to them enjoy this.

Rating: G

W/C: 3680

***

                Tommy got out of his truck; he had been going to this coffee shop every day for the past four weeks since he ended things with Evan. He hadn’t wanted to end things, but he had seen a future where Evan hurt him badly. And Evan wouldn’t have meant to do it, but Tommy couldn’t take that chance. He had been hurt so many times in the past that this would have been the last time he let himself fall in love with anyone. He would just remain a loveless, lonely, bitter old gay. He had seen many of those in his life so what was one more?

                He walked up to the counter; Del was working today. Their nametag said ‘Adelaide’ out of some requirement by their boss, but he knew better than to call them that. He had once and the death glare that they had given him made the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end and a full body shiver ran through him, “Afternoon Del,” Tommy greeted them. Their pink hair was styled similar to Lori Petty and Tommy really liked it, “Nice hair today. New hair stylist?”

                “Hey Tommy!” Del’s exuberant voice broke the silence of the shop, “You know I do all my own styling. But I did decide to that that pixie cut you showed me. You think it looks good? Its giving Manic Pixie.”

                “If I didn’t think it looked good, do you think I would have given you the suggestion? I might not be the best flaming homosexual, but I do know how to tell a person what will look good on them,” Tommy joked. He only got this way with Del. They just made him feel comfortable to be himself. And he appreciated them for it.

                Del smiled their award-winning smile at Tommy, “So will it be the usual today?”

                “You know it,” Tommy replied back. He eyed up the pastry cabinet, “That lemon loaf also looks good. You make it fresh today?”

                “Always,” Del said as they started to make Tommy’s drink.

                “Throw on that lemon loaf as well,” Tommy replied, “I’m having a bit of a sweet tooth moment today.”

                “You know I watch you drinking this coffee every time you come in here,” Del said as they made the drink, “And everyday I swear I watch you shudder each time you take a sip.”

                “Its just the first thing I usually have in my body each day,” Tommy lied through his teeth. He was embarrassed to say why he was always drinking a drink that didn’t make him happy. Hell, it made him sadder than anything, and on top of all that, it was an abomination that shouldn’t exist, but he still made himself drink it, “Its not as bad as you might think.”

                “I’ve made this drink for myself Tommy,” Del made a face as they put it down on the counter, “And it is an abomination to the world of coffee and should never exist in the first place.”

                “I’ve heard of drinks that shouldn’t exist, this is nowhere near as bad,” Tommy replied, “Have you heard of a Wayne Gretzky?”

                A look of confusion fell over Del’s face as they grabbed a slice of lemon loaf for Tommy, “Can’t say that I have. Dare I ask?”

                Tommy smiled, “It’s from Canada. Wayne Gretzky was number 99 on all teams he played for, so you go to a Tim Hortons and ask for the Wayne Gretzky,” He paused for emphasis, “And they give you a regular coffee with 9 sugars and 9 creams.”

                The look of absolute horror on Del’s face was worth telling that story. He had never personally tried it, but he had met some Canadians in the past. They had some weird ways of doing coffee up north, “That is the most horrifying thing I have ever heard of,” Del sounded like they wanted to vomit, “Why would someone do that? Do they even have space for coffee after that?”

                “I have no idea,” Tommy paid for his coffee and loaf, “But I don’t want to find out. Thanks for this Del. You’re the best.”

                “I’ll keep an eye out for that shudder,” Del called out after Tommy as he walked away. Del had pulled out their phone, and they were rapidly texting someone. Del always did that at the moment that there wasn’t a person at the counter. Working in a coffee shop like this one, they didn’t get much to do unless someone actually came in.

                Tommy shook his head and walked towards a table in the corner. He could people watch from there and wallow in all of his feelings while still knowing what was going on around him. When he sat down he steeled himself before taking a sip of his drink, and on cue, the full body shuddering from how horrible it was took him over. But after the shudder there was a sense of melancholy, a deeper sadness as he continued this ritual every day for the past weeks. This was the coffee that Evan had gotten him that fateful day when they decided that they could make a relationship work. Tommy had given him a second chance and they started the best 6 months of his entire life. Nothing had compared to it.

                Tommy felt his face starting to get a bit sadder as he sipped and shuddered. He couldn’t help himself. He didn’t know why he tortured himself like this either. It was because he deserved to have this pain for what he did to Evan. Sip, shudder, repeat. Occasionally he took a bit of the lemon loaf. It was good. Cut the horrifying flavour of the coffee.

                He occasionally heard the bell jingle as someone came into the shop to get a coffee and leave. Few people stayed inside to enjoy the atmosphere. It was a nice kitschy little shop, bit of a hodge podge of everything and nothing all at once. Imagine your grandmother’s house, but if it was pastel coloured. That was this coffee shop. They did good coffee and baked goods. Tommy wasn’t certain why, but he heard the bell jingle for the door, and he looked up at this one. He had been ignoring most of them but something in his soul made him look up, and there he was. Evan Buckley. In the flesh. Tommy felt a panic rise up in his body. Evan was here. They hadn’t seen or heard from each other in four weeks and here he was. He looked as amazing as he always did. Tommy couldn’t help but smile, remembering the times that he and Evan had just sat together and looked at each other. He wished he could go back to that. But he couldn’t risk it. He wasn’t the last boyfriend. He was never the last boyfriend. Always the first.

                Tommy honestly thought that he was cursed. He had done something to someone, and they had placed a curse upon him. Yes, he had made fun of Evan for believing in the Billy Boils curse, but this one on him had substantial lived proof behind it. And Tommy had even asked Billy to break his curse on Evan, so it wasn’t like he didn’t believe in curses. Just the Billy Boils one was ridiculous. Tommy however was doomed to always be the first boyfriend for newly out people, gay, bisexual, pansexual, and everything in between. But never the last. Why would anyone want to stay with a broken mess like Tommy? He had horrible nightmares that would wake himself and anyone staying with him up. Flashbacks to his time in Iraq, flashbacks to his childhood with an abusive father and a dead mother. Flashbacks to the pain he had caused so many people. And he deserved it all.

                Evan went up to the counter and placed his order, “You are the second person to order that drink today,” Del said aloud, “I’ve tried it and its honestly the most horrifying thing I’ve ever drank. But you do you.”

                “Second person?” Evan asked. Tommy prayed to anyone who was listening to please let Del keep his being there secret. Allah, Yahweh, God, Jesus, Jebus, Shiva, Anything. Anyone. Please let them keep him a secret. He didn’t want Evan to know he was there.

                Del motioned over towards where Tommy was sitting, FUCK, he swore loudly in his head. Guess Del didn’t get the hints over the weeks. Evan smiled and waved at Tommy. Tommy put on a smile and waved back. He didn’t want to have to do this. Didn’t want to have to explain why. Why was something even hey didn’t fully know. Please don’t let him come over this way.

                As if the gods he had been praying to were mocking him, Evan brought his coffee over to the table that Tommy was sitting at and sat down, “Hey Tommy,” Tommy noticed that Evan was forcing a smile. It definitely didn’t make it up to his eyes. They had a deep sadness about them. It hurt Tommy’s soul knowing that he was the cause of that.

“Hello Evan,” Tommy replied. He quickly corrected himself, trying to distance himself from the name that only he had been allowed to call him by everyone he knew. Maddie was the only other person who called him Evan in LA, “I mean Buck. Hello Buck.”

Evan flinched slightly at the name change, after a brief glimmer of hope had crept into his face, “You can still call me Evan. I don’t mind.”

“I’m nothing special so I’ll just call you what everyone else does,” Tommy replied, “How have you been?”

“Baking lots,” Evan admitted. Tommy noticed a sense of longing when Evan looked at him. He knew he had the same look on his face. He just had to keep his resolve, but it was getting harder to maintain. It was easier when they weren’t talking or seeing each other. He hadn’t even heard from Howie, Eddie, or Hen in the past four weeks. He wasn’t the best of friends with any of them by any long shot, but they had sporadic messaging since the Cruise Ship rescue, then nothing, “Working whenever I can. Keeping my mind busy. Been coming here because Del makes an amazing cup of coffee.”

“I gather by Del’s comment that you still drink that abomination of a beverage?” Tommy chuckled, “They told me that they tried it once and nearly died.”

“Seems like I’m not the only one who drinks it,” Evan raised an eyebrow and looked at Tommys cup.

“Yes well,” Tommy took a sip, shuddered, but felt a little memory of their first time together. Evan asking him to give him a second chance, being asked to a wedding he didn’t even make it to. Just a good memory associated with really bad coffee, “I figured I would try it after that first time you got it for me. Its…. growing on me.”

Tommy knew Evan’s facial expressions quite well over the six months of their relationship. What was on his face now was his ‘I know you are lying’ face, “So why haven’t I seen you around here lately?” Evan asked. He looked like he genuinely wanted an answer. Tommy wasn’t certain if he could tell Evan the truth. He had been coming here every day, drinking this disgusting coffee just so he could remember the first really happy memory they had together. It was all he had somedays after a particularly grueling day at work, “I know because this place is close to my loft, so I come here whenever I feel like going out for a coffee.”

“I just like it here,” Tommy lied through his teeth again. He was here because secretly, deep down, he wanted Evan to come in while he was here. He hadn’t planned on it today. But he was secretly hoping for him to make an appearance while he was here so he could see him again. Look at his silly unkept curls, his perfect smile, even his little port wine stain birthmark over his eye that he liked to kiss every night before they went to bed, “As you said, Del makes a great cup of coffee.”

“And it had nothing to do with my loft being so close?” Evan pushed into Tommy a little bit with that. This man was trying to get him to admit that he wanted to run into him. And Tommy just wanted to admit that he did.

“I’m not sure what you mean,” Tommy said, his voice raising at the end. If Evan remembered anything from their relationship, he would have heard Tommy’s lying voice. He wasn’t exactly subtle about it. Its why he sucked at Poker, “I just like the ambience.”

“Mmmhhhmmmm,” Evan replied. Tommy knew he was caught in the lie. Whether Evan called him out on it was another story, “Well since I have you here. We can have a conversation.”

FUCK, Tommy thought again. This was not how he had wanted today to go.

“Its been four weeks,” Evan said, “And during those four weeks I’ve had a bit of time to think. Yes, I baked and worked but I also did a lot of thinking. And I realized something,” Tommy was bracing himself for an admission of him finding someone else. He would be happy for Evan if that was the case. Its all he wanted for Evan. That he is happy. It would hurt him in ways that he couldn’t imagine, but he wanted Evan to be happy, “It also took Hen and Eddie doing various things over the past weeks to make me realize something, and a very heartfelt talk with Bobby last night to help me see.”

“And that was?” Tommy said. He was curious what all Hen and Eddie had done but it wasn’t his business anymore.

“That I’m still in love with you,” Evan said matter of factly. Tommy choked on his coffee as he had been bringing it up to take a sip of it.

“I’m sorry,” Tommy said, “What was that?”

“Well over the past four weeks, I would bake something whenever I had the urge to talk to you, or message you. Chimney is incredibly pleased with these results as he gets baked goods on a regular basis. Maddie not so much. She’s pregnant by the way,” Evan added on at the end, “But what they made me realize is that I was always thinking about you. And wanting to talk to you. But my brain was making me do something different instead of being an adult about it and just calling you. Hen and Eddie playing keep away with my phone once almost didn’t go well for Eddie,” Evan laughed at that, “I was ready to maim his ankle again with that.”

Tommy had the first genuine laugh he had allowed himself to have in the time since he broke up with Evan, “I bet you would have.”

“I had murder in my eyes that day,” Evan joked, “But it made me realize that I still felt something for you. It took a talk with Bobby last night to make me realize what it was. I hadn’t admitted to myself my feelings I had for others before. Not since Abby,” Evan looked up at Tommy. Tommy guessed he was trying to gauge his reaction, “Anyways Bobby talked to me and asked me what I really felt. I had talked with Maddie and Josh about how things went with us at the time, and I was reluctant to say Love. I saw a future with you. I just didn’t know what I was feeling. Was it love? Well Bobby set me straight in a matter of speaking.”

Tommy knows that he felt love for Evan. He realized it that day in the cemetery when Evan was talking about family and how they are this long dead cowboys posse. Something clicked with him. It did scare him a bit. But then when Evan started talking about how much he admired him and how transformative this relationship was, that’s when things became real for him. And how his fear broke him, “I love you too,” Tommy said meekly, “Since that day in the cemetery.”

It was Evan’s turn to look up shocked, “Really?” He sounded excited, “Why did you end things if you felt that way?”

“I have scars that you haven’t seen,” Tommy replied, “I have felt this way before with so many people, and each time I admitted that to myself, then that person decided that they wanted someone else,” Tommy felt embarrassed to say it, “It was easier for me to end things because if I did then I figured it would hurt less than if you did in the future when you realized that I wasn’t what you wanted,” It sounded stupid when he was saying it out loud, but say it out loud was what Tommy did, “It still hurts but it was my own fault for letting my fear and cowardice get to me.”

“I don’t claim to be the most knowledgeable in this,” Evan said, “But I know what I want in my life. And what I want is you. Since the day you walked out there has been a Tommy sized hole in my heart. I did so many different things to try and refill it, but it never felt the same. So,” Evan reached a hand across to Tommy, “If it is ok with you, I would like to try again if you would let me. You make my world feel complete.”

Tommy didn’t know what to feel. This was different from every other time someone had done this to him. He couldn’t remember a time when someone had actually said they loved him. He was confused, “You want to try again. After what I said to you and just left?”

“Call me an idiot,” Evan said, “Eddie calls me one all the time. Hell, he even called me one when I called you to meet here to ask for that second chance all those months ago. And I know I’m an idiot. An idiot who is in love with you even though you left me behind,” Evan held Tommy’s hand, “and it shouldn’t be me who asks for a second chance but I’ve never fought for what I wanted and I don’t want to waste anymore time waiting and pining, Los Angeles may run out of flour before that happens. So, would you take me back? Be my boyfriend again? We can go slower if that’s what you need.”

“Just take him back you moron so I don’t have to see your sulking ass in here everyday,” a voice yelled from the counter. Del had decided to make their opinion known.

Tommy laughed a little at Del’s outburst. They really had been seeing Tommy in here everyday, “One condition,” Tommy said.

“Conditions?” Evan said, “I’ll entertain one, but you are pushing it Mr Breaks Up With The Man He Loves.”

Tommy shook his head, “My one condition to paraphrase you,” Tommy said, “Why be apart when we can be together. I love you, you idiot. So, move in with me. I have a house with a yard, a car lift, and a garage with a sweet Muay Thai set up, which might I add, we have not taught you. I’m sure I can make room for all your stuff and more.”

Evan smiled the largest smile he could at those words, “That is very good paraphrasing,” Evan’s face couldn’t contain the glee he was feeling, “I might need your kitchen to be renovated a bit, but we can discuss that at another time. But if you’ll have me, I would love to move in with you.”

“Then it’s settled,” Tommy smiled wider than he had in weeks.

“I have to call Maddie,” Evan said.

“Did she know you were coming?” Tommy said.

“Del texted me when you got here today,” Evan waved over at them, “Your downer attitude was affecting business apparently.”

“I did not say that!” Del called out defensive. They really had amazing hearing being able to hear the entire conversation from their counter.

“I’m paraphrasing,” Evan called back, “But yes. Del let me know. Maddie said the universe would bring me the right person. I guess the universe did.”

Tommy smiled at Evan. It was weirdly surreal for them to just come back together again after having been apart for four weeks. It was the magic of this café, Del’s prodding, or this nasty coffee, but they were together again. No tears. At least not in public. Tommy had some dignity left in him. He would however probably end up crying out of happiness the moment he got into his truck.

“So,” Evan said, “Is my handsome boyfriend going to take me to see my future home?”

“I would love to,” Tommy replied. He stood up from the table. He put his plate and cup on the dirty dish tray and head out the door, not before wishing Del a great day, and took Evan into his truck, “So what’s this about kitchen renovations?

***

Authors Note: Tada!!! Another successful story. I mostly wrote this magically before I went to bed one night, and then throughout the course of my day at work the next day on my iPhone (Microsoft OneDrive FTW). I also apologize if some of the ideas seem disjointed. I'm not good at planning things out and I tend to just write by the seat of my pants. And I just didn’t want to have them being super angsty and mopey. I wanted to have them being mature adults about the whole situation. So hopefully everyone enjoyed this, leave me a comment and a like and I’ll see you on my next story.

[champagneshoey]

firstly, this is not a vague or a threat or meant to put anyone down. this is just another opinion on and reaction to situation that none of us are actually a part of. i was (still am, to a certain degree) a high-performance athlete. this happened to me. be normal, please because i will swing on you if you act up.

i see a lot of “what happened to ‘Not Without A Fight’??”

i like to think there was a fight. this entire season was a fight. last season was a fight. taking the Third Driver role was a fight.

think back to where we were now in 2022. what if that had been the end? leaving a sport you’ve loved your whole life feeling empty, defeated, burnt out, and hating it with your whole heart instead? that’s miserable.

that is the bad ending.

i cannot emphasize enough just how much of an impact fear has on performance. constantly being threatened and belittled and demoralized is no way to live, let alone perform to the best of your ability. and this is in a life-threatening sport; if he makes a mistake, it could kill him.

Formula 1, single-seater racing, motorsports, the heart and drive of competition was not the thing that hurt him—Red Bull Racing was. the organization, the company luring in an unsuspecting young boy with a kind heart by masquerading as a Family after he had just willingly given up his own, is what hurt him.

there is power and agency in choosing to walk away from something that has demanded and near-successfully stolen every single bit of you, in finally putting your foot down and saying ‘enough is enough. you can’t have me anymore. i won’t let you.’

i want him back doing what he loves more than anything, as much as the rest of you do. as much as he does, i’m sure. i do not think this was an easy decision or something that he won’t think about until the day he dies, no matter how many disneyland photos we’re shown.

there is so much sorrow and pain and loss, but there is also power and pride to be had in choosing yourself.

he did, in fact, go down swinging, clawing, biting. sometimes you fight and you still lose.

[fruvittea]

whispers in the rain part three ✧˚ · .

— ✺ pairing: jay x reader x jake

— ✺ genre: slice of life, angst, suggestive, fluff, childhood best friend, love triangle, college au, slow burn

—✺ synopsis: jay is your childhood best friend. that’s all he will ever be. a summer with jay and his friends changes how you feel for him when jake comes into your life. and jay begins to think that was a mistake.

—✺ warnings: also the members are aged up a bit, specifically niki, so he can have alcohol LOL

—✺ word count: 1.8k

part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | ...

The vacation was in full swing, and Jay was happy—genuinely happy. He watched you laugh with Jake during breakfast, the two of you whispering about some inside joke from your trip to town the day before. You look radiant, your eyes shining with a sort of joy he hadn’t seen in a while. And for some reason he couldn’t keep his eyes off of you. 

She’s finally having fun, he thought to himself, and the warmth of pride settled in his chest. You deserved this. You deserved to branch out, to meet people who made you smile the way Jake did.

The rest of the group buzzed with excitement about their plans for the night. “Let’s hit the bars downtown,” Jungwoo suggested, scrolling through his phone. “I found this place with live music that looks pretty fun.”

Niki, ever the instigator, clapped his hands. “Finally! Time to turn up.”

Everyone agreed eagerly, including you, and before long, the house was alive with the sound of showers running, music blasting, and the chaos of young adults rifling through their suitcases for the perfect outfit. 

Jay didn’t think much about the preparations until you emerged from your room. He was leaning against the counter, scrolling through his phone, when he glanced up and froze.

—

You had been having so much fun while on vacation. Being in a place you have never been before. With people you are beginning to know. It all has been wonderful—sun drenched mornings, lazy afternoons, and laughter filled nights. And tonight you were going out and having fun. But something felt off. 

Jake is so incredible—funny, kind, and so attentive it made your chest ache. He has a way of making you feel seen, his compliments coming so naturally. You couldn’t help but wonder if he memorized them or not. You couldn’t remember the last time someone had made you feel this special. 

And yet, there was a nagging thought in the back of your mind that refused to leave. 

You haven't spent much time with Jay. The whole reason you said yes to even going on this vacation. It was Jay. 

It wasn’t for lack of trying. He’d been around, always somewhere in the background, but things were different. Normally, the two of you would find little moments just for yourselves, creating a bubble that on one else could break into. Now with this trip, it had popped. He seemed content staying on the sidelines, happy to let Jake take over. 

It wasn’t like you wanted Jay to monopolize your time, but his absence felt strange. Unsettling. You…missed him.

Still, Jake made it hard to dwell on that too long. He had a way of drawing you in, whether it was with his quick wit or the way that he listened so intently whenever you spoke. He made you feel lighter, freer, and you couldn’t help but bask in his attention. 

But tonight wasn’t the night to focus on such things. Everyone had agreed to go out, you wanted to have fun and you spent more time getting ready than usual, carefully perfecting your look. A leopard print top that hugged your figure, a black mini skirt, and slim black boots with a thin heel. You took your time scrolling through Pinterest trying to figure out what makeup look to do until finalizing on a sultry smokey makeup look that was just enough for tonight. To save yourself time from curling your hair, you simply straighten it, letting it fall down your back. 

You gave yourself one last look in the mirror, put on some lipstick, and walked out into the living room where Jay was leaning against the counter waiting for everyone to come out their rooms. 

—

Jay blinked twice. 

He watched you straighten your skirt and adjust your bag. 

“Is it too much?” The nervousness in your voice made him take a deep breath in. Your eyes sparkled with your makeup. 

“Wow, y/n you look amazing,” Jungwon said, breaking the silence. You looked to your right to see him dressed in a simple black button up tucked into black pants with a belt. “Don’t worry you didn’t do too much, it is perfect.” He flashed you a smile putting his hand on your back before making his way to the living room. 

The whole time Jay had his eyes on you and couldn’t help but have a slight reaction to Jungwon’s flirtatious hand placement. He swallowed hard, quickly looking away. His mind wrestled with the thought that popped up unbidden: She looks beautiful. He shook it off. Of course you looked beautiful. You always did. That wasn’t new. What was new was the tight feeling in his chest, the inexplicable urge to tell you to stay home. He ignored it. 

“Yeah it’s not too much. You look good.” He said. 

“Alright, are we ready? The Uber is on it’s way!” Sunoo flashed his phone before making his way to the front door.

“Wait, I thought someone was driving?” You turned to go to the door.

“Pfft, no, we all wanna have fun tonight.” Niki gave you a wink before following Sunoo out the door. 

—

The streets were alive with the energy of the summer nightlife. Strings of lights adorned the lampposts, and music spilled out of every bar you all walked passed. The group was all smiles, dressed to impress and ready to have a good time. 

After a bit of wandering Heesung found the bar with live music and snagged a table near the stage. The bang was setting up, and the air buzzed with anticipation. 

Jake, ever the gentleman, pulled out a chair for you. You thanked him with a smile that Jay couldn’t help but notice lingered a second too long. The group ordered drinks, laughing and shouting over the noise as they debated what to get. Jay stuck to beer, while you opted for a fruity cocktail that came in a ridiculous glass. 

“Cheers to the best summer yet.” Sunghoon raised his glass.

“Cheers!” Everyone echoed clinking glasses. 

The band started playing, and the music was infectious. It wasn’t long before people were swaying in their seats or getting up to dance. Jake leaned in closer to you, his arm brushing yours as he pointed out something about the band’s ead guitarist. The way he leaned in to whisper jokes, his breath warm against your ear, made your cheeks flush. 

But even as you laughed, your eyes kept drifting to Jay. 

He was quieter than usual, sticking close to Jungwonn and Sunoo, his playful demeanor subdued. You couldn’t help but steal a few glances of him from across the table, the way his eyes lingered on the band playing, his fingers drumming his glass like he was lost in thought. 

Little did you know, Jay caught the little interactions between you and Jake from the corner of his eye. Jake wasn’t doing anything wrong—he was being a friend, perhaps a little more friendly to his liking, but still he wasn’t doing anything wrong and for some reasons he couldn’t stop watching. 

Sunoo nudged him. “You good Jay?”

Jay blinked, realizing he hasn’t said much in a while. “Yeah, just enjoying the music.”

Sunoo gave him a knowing look but didn’t press further. 

—

As the night went on, the drinks flowed, and everyone got a little tipsy. The shy inhibitions that had lingered earlier were gone now, replaced by laughter and the occasional bold move. The boys had gone all over the place, chatting it up with strangers, and ordering more drinks at the bar. 

Meanwhile Jake and you were laughing as something together not leaving the table ever since you entered the bar. And then he leaned in, his lips closed to your ear.

“I forgot to mention how beautiful you look tonight.” His voice so low only you could hear. 

“Don’t make me laugh Jake, thats the alcohol talking.” You turn you head to meet his eyes. 

“Partially so, but hey, drunk words are sober thoughts.” His smile sends a shiver down your spine. You couldn’t help but turn away bashfully as he reassured you he meant what he said. 

Out of your view was Jay sitting at the bar sipping on his second beer. Jay’s jaw clenched. “You’ve been staring at them for the last ten minutes,” Jungwon said, sliding into the seat next to him.

“What? No I haven’t.”

“You have,” Jungwon said plainly, sipping his drink. “You’re happy for her, right?” That she’s having fun?”

“Of course I am,” Jay’s response was immediate. Too immediate. 

“Hmm.”

Jay turned to him, frowning. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Jungwon shrugged. “Nothing. Just…it’s funny how you’re the only one not having fun right now.”

Jay opened his mouth to argue, but Jungwon was already walking away to an almost drunk Heesung and Niki, leaving him with his thoughts. Jay downed his drink before quickly asking for another. 

He tried to focus on the band, on the rhythm of the music, on anything but the way Jake’s hand rested on the back of your chair or the way your laugh seemed louder when Jake was the one making you smile.

It’s fine, he told himself. He just missed his best friend a bit and that was all. This is what what you wanted. She’s finally branching out.

—

At some point, you excused yourself to go to the restroom. Jay saw his chance and followed, waiting just outside the hallway leading to the restrooms. When you emerged he caught your arm gently. 

“Hey, you okay Jay?” You smiled as you felt his hand reach for you. 

“Yeah, yeah of course! Are you okay?” He asked. 

You looked at him, surprised. “Yeah, why wouldn’t I be?”

He hesitated. “I just…you’ve been spending a lot of time with Jake. I wanted to make sure he’s not, you know, making you uncomfortable or anything.”

You tilted your head, studying him. Was this his jealous way of saying he missed you? “Jay, Jake’s been great. Why would you think he’s making me uncomfortable? 

“I don’t know. I just…I worry about you.”

You smiled softly, and for a moment, Jay felt like the two of you were back in high school, just you and him against the world. 

“I’m fine Jay. You don’t need to worry about me so much.” 

But I do, he wanted to say. The words hovered on his tongue, unspoken. Instead, he nodded, stepping aside to let you slip past him. You put a reassuring hand on his forearm giving it a gentle squeeze before making your way back to the empty seat beside Jake. He watched as you walked back to your seat, where Jake was waiting with that easy smile of his. 

Jay stayed in the hallway for a moment, leaning against the wall and taking a deep breath.

Maybe Jungwon was right. Maybe he wasn’t as okay with this as he thought. 

✴︎🪷𓈒͏ུུ̑̑. ཉ — by @fruvittea

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