#AND NOT HAVE TO WORRY ABOUT WHOS LISTENING

[starmocha]

I've got this doubt that I can't shake off: if MC's pregnancy, for some reason, is a very tough and risky one (both might die or something), which one of the guys would have the saddest breakdown at some point (just ugly crying into MC's arms after months of keeping it together for her sake) and which would have the angriest (trashing entire offices, taking their anger out on their enemies or both)?

(I had intended to respond earlier, but man…that trailer…) Gosh, you guys know how to prod at that special part of my brain with these asks lately… 🥺 I may or may not have...started writing...little...snippets, really... 😔

Zayne would go into “doctor-mode.” He is going to utilize his medical knowledge and resources to give you the best care possible for both you and the baby, and while it seems you have nothing to worry about, you will feel the emotional-withdrawal from him as everything will feel so methodical and clinical and he forgets completely his role as a husband until you break down crying.

You had tried to keep your emotions in check these last few months, rationalizing that Zayne was never an expressive person, but his feelings and actions were always sincere. He was pacing across the bedroom reviewing with you about your recent prenatal checkup and what it meant for both you and this baby. It had been like this for several months now, and with your weak heart and the risk it posed for both you and the baby, Zayne had been extra attentive about your prenatal care.

As you sat on your bed, heavy with his child and close to your due date, listening to him rattle off different medical terms and speaking to you less as a wife but more as if you were his patient, you could feel your emotions peaking. You couldn’t remember the last time he was affectionate with you or actually asked how you were personally feeling throughout this whole pregnancy. He was by your side more, but you had never felt as lonesome as now, needing him back as your husband and not a doctor. You could feel the tears brimming, but it was getting harder each day to suppress your feelings.

Everything Zayne was saying sounded like muffled gibberish to you. You could barely focus on the present, barely acknowledging even the faint movements of the baby you were carrying, feeling more lost in your loneliness. You finally let your emotions and hormones collide and broke down crying in front of him, startling him immediately. Within seconds, he was on his knees before you, grasping your arms as he asked worriedly, “What’s wrong? Are you hurting somewhere?”

It took you a minute to gather yourself before you felt calm enough to speak, finally revealing to him how you hated who he had become during this time. At first, Zayne looked shocked, not quite comprehending what you had just said to him, but the more he pondered your hurt words, the more he realized there was a lot of truth in what you had said.

He kissed your belly, surprising you. Then, he got up and sat down next to you on the bed, pulling you into his embrace as he kissed your forehead, his apologies immediate and sincere.

“I didn’t mean to,” he said, holding you a little tighter, “I just…don’t want anything to happen to you. Either of you.”

You leaned into his embrace, and sighed softly, “I know…I’m not mad at you. I’m just…”

Zayne looked down, noticing how your words gradually stopped and you were withdrawing again. He lifted your chin, making you look at him as he coaxed you gently, “Just what?”

“I just miss you,” you said, voice breaking again and fresh tears brimmed your eyes. As he brushed your tears away, you cried harder, “And I’m scared…and I can’t stop thinking about all of the things that could go wrong…and then I realize stressing over this is also hurting the baby and…and…”

Zayne looked guilty as he realized that while he was too focused on your physical health, he had neglected your mental and emotional state, realizing how you had been suppressing your feelings for his sake.

He sat back against the headboard and pulled you back to rest against him. He apologized again for his neglect, and for the rest of that night, he listened and comforted you through your anxieties. There was that familiar warmth in his embrace that you missed, and the softness in his eyes returned as he listened to you earnestly. While your anxieties were still there, they seemed more manageable now that you realized the man by your side in this moment was not Doctor Zayne but your Zaynie, your beloved husband.

Rafayel is angry and emotional and will lash out and say things he doesn’t mean, such as he would rather lose the baby than you.

It had been like walking on eggshells these past few months. You had tried to keep your spirits up in spite of the situation, but eventually everything that had been quieted was going to surface, reaching an ugly peak.

You just had never expected him to say such words to you.

“You…don’t want…the baby?” You felt like you were choking as you uttered those words back to Rafayel.

He looked conflicted, his face twisted in pain and frustration. “I…I didn’t mean it,” he finally said, seeming to struggling with not just his words, but also his feelings.

You glared at him with tears in your eyes. “You said it! What could you have possibly meant to say if not that!”

“I don’t want to lose you!” he finally yelled back, frustrated that his words were being used against him by you of all people.

A strained silence filled the space, creating a rift between the two of you as you stared at one another in shock. In the distant, there was the cries of seagulls flying outside the studio, the sound of waves crashing on the shore a peculiar reminder that time was still moving forward even as you two stood frozen, locked in this seemingly unbreakable tension.

After several beats, Rafayel dropped to his knees, his head buried into his hands as he apologized, though it seemed more like he was apologizing for hurting you and not because of what he had said.

You walked closer to him, surprised when his arms wrapped around your waist, and his face pressed against your rounded stomach.

“I’m sorry,” he apologized again. He didn’t look up at you, but his words were heard clear: “I just can’t lose you again.”

You stared down at his head of hair, unsure of what you could say in this moment. He looked so broken and helpless, and while you understood his sentiments, it still did nothing to alleviate the hurt you felt at his earlier words. Shakily, you let your hand rest on the back of his head, as you said softly, “My fishie…I won’t leave you…”

You said that to comfort him, but even you had doubts about whether you could hold true to your words. It was so bright and sunny outside in Linkon today, so why did your future look so gray and uncertain? This was to be a joyous time in both of your lives, but even as you both felt the baby kicked and moved, that cloud of doubt remained.

Xavier is stunned and feels helpless.

It had been an awkward couple of weeks. Xavier was quieter than usual, but he still answered you whenever you spoke. You didn’t think he was upset at you, but you also couldn’t ignore the sudden distance between the two of you.

“Captain Jenna had put me on desk duty for the remainder of my pregnancy,” you told him over dinner one night.

He didn’t answer you, appearing distracted as he was grilling some beef slices on an electric griddle.

“Xavier?”

“Huh?” He looked up, surprised. “Oh, sorry, I had something on my mind. What did you say?”

“I…I said Captain Jenna is putting me on desk duty,” you repeated hesitantly.

“That’s good,” he answered and picked a slice of beef off the griddle to place in your bowl. “You should have some more meat for protein.”

“…thank you,” you said, noticing the way his eyes kept averting with yours. You placed your bowl on the table, upset now. “Xavier, did I do something wrong?”

He looked taken aback by the sudden question. He immediately shook his head. “Wrong? Why would you even think that?”

You frowned. “You’ve barely spoken with me lately,” you said, “It’s been nothing but ‘yeah,’ ‘okay,’ ‘alright’ from you lately.”

“I’m sorry,” he looked at you with remorse etched on his face. He sighed as he turned the griddle off before he rubbed the back of his head awkwardly. “I…I just have something on my mind.”

“You keep saying that,” you retorted, mildly irked now, “What could be on your mind that is more important than being here with me?”

“You.”

Your irritation disappeared in that moment, his solemn gaze resting on you. Slowly, you found your voice, your words stuttering a little in confusion, “Wha…what do…you mean?”

“You and the baby,” he clarified. “Ever since the doctor said this was a high-risk pregnancy, I just…can’t stop thinking about…everything that could go wrong.”

“Xavier…”

“I don’t know how to make this easier for you,” he continued, suddenly unable to hide his anxiety any longer, “And even if we do everything right, what if things go wrong at the last minute? What if—no, just…no…”

You gasped when he suddenly came to you, his arms wrapped around you immediately in a tight embrace. He kissed the top of your head and apologized again, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you upset.”

“Xavier…it will be alright,” you reassured him.

He was silent.

“We’ll both be alright,” you continued.

“Right…” he answered, but you noticed he still didn’t want to let you go. You also didn’t want him to part, so you both remained in this moment a while longer.

Sylus has all of the money and connections in the world. He is going to ensure that both you and the baby will be alright throughout the pregnancy until birth. On the surface, he seems calm and confident, but to keener eyes, such as yours, you will pick up on his anxiety through little tics or behavioral changes.

The moment you had told Sylus you were pregnant with his baby, he lavished you with even more luxuries than before. You received the best care possible, especially when it came to light that this pregnancy was not going to be easy for you and there was concern about the health of the baby. Sylus made sure the most qualified doctors were monitoring you and he had ordered the personal chefs to prepare only nutritional dishes for you and the baby.

He was adamant that you received only the best of the best, and to strangers, Sylus appeared to be so level-headed and grounded, not a trace of worry could be seen on his face.

You, however, noticed how he seemed to drum his fingers on hard surfaces more often. He would also pull out his coin to flip at the most peculiar time, and his visits to the boxing ring also seemed to have increased. There were so many odd tics that you couldn’t ignore, but you suspected you knew the reason why.

One evening, you slipped into bed earlier while Sylus was still sleeping. It would almost be time for him to wake up from his slumber, so you waited. When you noticed the fluttering of his eyes, you leaned in closer, smiling as your face was the first thing he saw once he awoken.

“Good morning,” you greeted him with a mischievous smile, leaning down to peck his lips.

“Mm…morning,” he answered back in amusement, still a little groggy and bleary-eyed. He yawned. “What did I do to deserve seeing such a sweet sight first thing after waking up?”

“I wanted to talk.”

His mirth disappeared in that instance upon hearing your stern tone. He shifted in bed, sitting up with his back to the headboard. “Is something the matter?”

“You tell me.”

Sylus shook his head in confusion. “Sweetie, you are going to have to elaborate more,” he responded with a frown. “What are we talking about?”

“Are you…worried?”

“Worry?”

You rested a hand over your belly, his gaze instantly following your movement. “About the pregnancy,” you clarified.

“Of course I worry,” he answered back in that same even tone.

“You…seemed so assured, but lately, I’ve noticed these little…tics,” you explained, elaborating to him more in details as he listened patiently. When you finished, Sylus gently pulled you closer to him, letting your body rest against his. His arm wrapped around you, his hand resting on your belly to rub gentle little circles.

“I will always worry about you,” he said, “but panicking over things will not achieve anything, so I just redirected my worries elsewhere. Is that a problem?”

You shook your head and looked up at him. “No, I was just…wondering if you wanted to talk about them with me.”

He laughed and bent down to peck your lips. “You don’t have to worry about me.”

“What if I want to?”

He smiled in amusement and kissed you again. “Then who am I to argue with my pregnant wife?”

“What would you do?”

“Do what?”

“If…I don’t ma—”

“You will be fine,” he immediately cut you off, his demeanor shifting entirely. “You will both be fine.”

“But—”

He lay back down in bed, pulling you closer to him in a tighter embrace. “Lull me to sleep,” he said instead.

“But isn’t it time for you to wake—” You clammed up when he shot you a pointed look. You could sense his unease, feeling his fingers digging into your flesh a little more. He was upset, deeply troubled, and you hated how he carried that burden alone on his shoulders.

“Alright,” you answered, snuggling into his embrace. You sang a song, a lullaby you had learned recently that you hoped to sing to your baby in a few months. As you sang, Sylus quietly hummed along, and it wasn’t long before you both fell asleep together, your worries left behind as you dreamed of the upcoming months when a new bundle of joy would arrive at Onychinus’ base.

Caleb is nervous, but he pours himself into taking care of you, because that is all he has ever known. He’s never liked seeing you ill or hurt, so he is going to do everything possible to make sure you receive the best care ever. He will do a lot of research and ask as many questions as he could to gain insight on what can be done to minimize the risk so both you and the baby will make through the pregnancy as safely as possible. He does not even want to consider the possibility of losing you.

You didn’t have any autonomy over yourself anymore. Whatever you wanted to do, Caleb did it for you first. Whatever you were craving, he would negate it half the time, citing it was better for you to eat a healthier alternative.

Even though you wanted to be mad at him, you knew he was doing this out of worry after the reveal that there were some concerns about this pregnancy. The moment that you had heard the word “risky,” everything afterwards suddenly sounded muffled as you were frozen in shock, a sudden anxiety creeping in as you stared down at your belly. Meanwhile, Caleb was already proactive, asking what needed to be done, what you both needed to be aware of, and so on and so forth. As if he could sense your worries, his hands immediately rested on your shoulders as he stood behind you while he continued to converse with the doctor.

He was your pillar and your protector. He always was, and he always will be.

Even if sometimes you found him to be overbearing.

You had missed many of his more indulgent dishes ever since he had put you on a clean-diet, and each time, you made a point of letting him know just how upset you were as you sulked when he finished setting the table with steamed fish and green veggies with bamboo shoots.

“It’s only temporary,” he reassured you, smiling to himself as he watched you picked at the fish half-heartedly.

“Most women get to enjoy their cravings while pregnant,” you said sullenly, taking a small bite of the fish.

He nodded in agreement as he sat down opposite of you. “If this was a normal pregnancy, then of course you should be able to indulge on your cravings—”

You looked at him hopefully.

“But your cholesterol level is higher than normal, and we also need to be cautious about the risk of developing gestational diabetes—”

You sulked again. “You are killing my appetite again.”

Caleb laughed softly as he set his chopsticks down. He cocked his head to the side, his chin resting in the palm of his hand as he leaned forward on the table. “What are you craving, pipsqueak?”

“What does it matter? You won’t let me have anything…” You bit into your bamboo shoot, not making eye contact with him.

“Pretend I will,” he answered in the same tone.

You shrugged. “…Pasta.”

“Pasta? Okay,” he answered thoughtfully, “What else?”

“Hmm…pizza…cheesecake…dumplings…”

Caleb covered his mouth to suppress his laughter as he watched you list each food longingly, practically lost in your own world and not even paying attention to him anymore. When it seemed you had finished listing, he questioned you again, “That’s all?”

You sighed and shook your head.

“What else is there? You’ve practically listed all of the food available on takeout menus,” he teased.

“…Braised chicken wings…”

Caleb looked surprised. “What?”

“Your braised chicken wings,” you clarified and looked up to meet his surprised gaze.

“Okay,” he said after a moment, “I’ll make some braised chicken wings tomorrow for dinner.”

You perked up. “R-really?” You eyed him suspiciously. “What about my clean diet?”

“In moderation would be fine,” he answered, smiling, “Besides, having the mother of my child miserable the whole time is also not good for the baby.”

You huffed at him, annoyed. “I’m miserable because of you.”

He blinked, not expecting you to suddenly be mad at him again. “I’m only—”

“I can’t enjoy the food I like, I’m tired all of the time, I can’t even see my feet anymore, my back hurts, my feet are swollen—how am I fat when I’m not even eating anything yummy?!”

“…are you having a mood swing?”

“Yes!” you cried out hysterically, nearly sobbing, “It’s your fault, too, I can’t control my hormones right now!”

Caleb laughed helplessly as he stood from his seat and crossed over to your side. Immediately, you wrapped your arms around his waist, your face buried against his stomach as you continued to cry and list your grievances with him.

“Alright, alright, it is my fault I gotten you pregnant,” he agreed. He peered down at the top of your head, smiling when you sniffled against his shirt while he rubbed the back of your head soothingly.

“…dummy…”

“Yes, yes, I’m a dummy,” he continued in a very pacifying tone.

“…A big dummy…”

“Mmhmm…”

“The biggest…”

“Right, right…”

You looked up, suspicious again when he continued to be very agreeable. You yelped in surprise when he immediately grabbed your face and leaned down to steal your lips with his. It took you a few seconds to register that he was kissing you before you gave in, feeling a warmth in your chest at his sudden display of affections.

“What else?” he asked softly when he pulled back a few centimeters, still close enough that his breath brushed against your trembling lips while his eyes locked with yours. You could feel his thumb brushing away the tears that were still on your cheeks.

“…you…”

“Me?”

“Uh huh…”

“What do you want from me?”

“Just you…”

He laughed and kissed your forehead. “Alright, pipsqueak,” he said, “You have me. I am all yours. Forever.”

You guided his hand down to your pregnant belly, smiling when that same look of surprise crossed his face again when he felt the baby kicked. Your smile widened as you answered him, “You’re ours.”

He knelt down on one knee, his large hand still resting over your belly as he smiled back before his eyes drifted down to your stomach. “Yeah,” he said, sighing almost as if in disbelief by this current life he was living, “Both of yours. Forever.”

[landboundstar]

I have a lot of people in my life that voted for Trump, and a lot I can't talk with even remotely about politics. But I have one elderly relative that I regularly talk to before and since the election.

They were having a rough time with being told what the media was saying and we went over some of the points. She agreed a lot were bad points but thought a lot of news was being falsified or exaggerated. And is realizing now that was not the case.

Ever since the election, when I go to visit she has been talking with me about community action and support to try to help.

She also was very uncomfortable when she asked me about how I decided to vote and I told her that I was worried that I had to go into my Dad's hobby to follow some of the policies and their origins.

Since most of the internet never met my father, my dad was a history buff -like read battle reports for fun history buff- specifically obsessed with the Western front of WWII and everything connected before and after. Who would tell anyone willing to listen what he knew.

[gothghostiie]

the babysitter!reader chronicles shall continue for I am babysitting

cw: fluff, age gap, size difference if you squint, gn!reader

price arranging for you to stay for a bit over 2 weeks, he's on deployment spontaneously and no one he usually asks has time. he really doesnt want to bother you, doesn't wanna overwhelm you with the calm little infant and suddenly staying a whole two weeks and then some at his place. but you're his last option, hes desperate, quite frankly. so he gives you a call and you're absolutely delighted to come over, even if it's on short notice. how could you not go see your favourite baby? so now here you are, around 1 ½ weeks in, all cozy in his home. you're having dinner with the baby when a set of keys jingle in the door.

You loom up, a bit worried, honestly. no one should have a key, john didn't tell you anyone was coming over - and you frankly didn't believe he'd send someone to check up on you out of the blue. you listen close, a set of heavy steps making you perk up, even the baby is silent at the look of concentration on your face. the door closes and a heavy thud follows shortly after - then a loud groan. your face immediately lightens up and so does the baby's, you both recognise the low voice. you shimmy out of your seat, the little one making grabby hands at you, wanting out of their highchair. you quickly lift the baby, settling it onto your side and scrambling towards the front door, both of you giggling softly at the sight of price stretching, old bones cracking. "Look who's there!" you loudly whisper to the infant, who babbles happily. John looks just as happy as them, you can see the resemblance once again (especially in both their chubby cheeks, paired with the smile). he doesnt even bother taking off the fingerless gloves on his dirty hands before grabbing his little one, snuggling them to him as they giggle and squirm.

"there's my favorite sweethearts.." he murmurs softly, pressing a kiss to the little head. his voice is rough and raspy, he's been yelling, his lips are chapped and dry, there's dark bags under his eyes - and yet he's still smiling down at both of you. he settles the baby against his side, eyeing you over briefly, his smirk widening. "C'mere." he says gently, lifting his other arm to pull you in close, against the black fleece jacket he's wearing. you hesitate just briefly before hugging him back, heat creeping into your face.

"You're home early." you say softly, relaxing into him a bit as his big hand rubs your back gently, cradling the back of your head to make you lean against his chest.

"mh. got finished earlier than we anticipated." he says briefly, his tone telling you you better not keep poking; so you don't. you stay like this for a few more moments - even if he could've stayed like this for much, much longer. you pull away, straightening your clothes a little as you clear your throat; taking the baby again.

"You gotta be starving. How about you go shower and I'll fix you a plate? Just go sit in the living room when you're done, your show should still be on."

John never wanted to marry anyone more.

[suiana]

if this post got recommended to you, you're mine.

there's no other explanation, no way out either.

you're mine. plain and simple.

i know, i know. you're probably weirded out and thinking who the hell i am. and that's perfectly reasonable! i mean, i did just appear on your screen less than a second ago and am suddenly declaring you as mine. totally weird and creepy.

but here's the thing, it's really not all that weird. not when i've been watching you for a very long time. a really, long time.

yeah, that's right. i live inside your computer. cool, huh? others call me a virus but i just like to say that i'm sentient. i'm not like those other lines of code that are merely programmed to harm you. in fact, i'd never want to hurt you!

i would rather appreciate and love you instead. wouldn't that be nice?

i'd spoil you and tell you how amazing you are. you'll never have to work for anything because i'll be there to take care of your wants and needs. everything you want is all yours, no questions asked. i'll take good care of you.

i know you want it too. i've seen the type of things you search up. it's cute, really cute.

and since valentine's is coming up, i just know you've been yearning for someone to give you some flowers! so here, have thse virtual ones :) they'll be good substitues for now. i'll get you real ones soon, don't worry.

this is goodbye for now. well, not really. i'll always be here with you. watching and listening, learning every single bit about you. haha, we're almost lovers! i can't wait to meet you in person!

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⡤⠄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡠⠔⠒⠹⠇⣄⠌⣸⠯⡙⠢⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡤⠒⢉⣭⠐⠊⠉⣩⠴⣫⠟⣡⠞⢥⣭⡞⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⡏⣚⢜⠟⣡⣴⣒⣩⡴⠭⠒⠊⣡⠞⢓⢸⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⡜⡼⠓⠂⠩⡰⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⠞⢁⡴⠃⢸⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⢶⢏⠀⢸⠀⢳⢳⠀⠀⢀⡜⠵⠒⠉⠀⠀⠸⣤⣄⣀⣀⣀⡀⠀⠀⢀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠛⢷⣼⡄⠀⣷⠀⠀⢸⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⣾⢹⣯⣳⣍⠀⠉⠉⠁⠈⠑⠶⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⢿⡙⢦⣮⢦⣀⠘⣆⢀⣀⣠⣾⣿⣿⣧⣿⡈⠑⠯⣏⠁⠀⠐⠀⢁⡆⠍⠳⣶⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣴⡊⡍⠙⠳⣶⣿⠿⠿⢿⣿⣸⣿⢹⣇⢹⡙⢿⣟⠛⠚⠓⠤⠄⢀⣸⡁⣀⡼⠃⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⢴⡞⠉⢇⣱⠋⣦⠀⠈⠙⠢⢄⡀⢳⣧⠙⣾⠛⠸⣧⠖⠹⡷⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣹⢿⡟⠁⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⣠⠞⢉⢺⢀⣀⡴⠃⠈⠂⠹⠦⣀⣈⢃⠱⡄⢻⣇⢿⡄⣴⠋⠀⠀⠙⢿⡀⢀⡴⠋⠁⣼⠁⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⣰⡡⠮⠓⠋⢃⡟⠀⠀⠄⠀⠀⠀⠈⠷⣿⣧⡹⠈⢿⡎⢷⣹⢠⣄⠀⠀⢠⡟⠁⠀⠀⣰⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⡼⠻⣄⡠⢄⢀���⠀⡤⠂⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⡇⠀⠘⢿⡄⠙⣿⣿⣦⣦⣼⣀⣤⣠⠴⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠙⠦⠴⣛⢻⠿⠐⠚⠕⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⡿⠀⠀⠀⠸⣿⣾⣿⡏⣼⡿⠛⣇⣿⠈⠛⠶⢤⠤⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⢺⣾⠗⣀⣁⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡖⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⢿⣿⠁⣿⠃⠀⠘⢿⡆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠙⠳⣮⣕⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⣴⢿⣧⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠸⣿⢸⡏⠀⠀⠀⠈⢧⢀⡠⠴⢦⡀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠓⠢⢄⣶⣴⡿⣿⠀⠈⠻⣦⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⠃⠀⠀⠀⣠⠞⠁⠀⣀⡤⠽⢦⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣼⡿⡿⠁⠀⠉⠀⠀⠀⠈⠻⢷⣄⠀⠀⢻⣿⠀⠀⣠⠞⠁⣠⣴⡿⠛⠀⢰⡞⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠓⠚⠋⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣀⠀⠀⠙⢿⣦⣻⣿⣀⣼⣋⢀⣼⡻⠋⢀⣠⠔⠋⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡠⠖⠊⠉⠉⢀⣉⢽⣿⣗⡛⡏⠟⢁⣷⡭⣽⡟⠚⠉⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⣦⣄⡴⠶⠎⠛⠮⠋⢀⡠⣝⣷⣶⣿⣷⡀⠀⠉⠒⠤⣀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠸⡀⠀⠀⣀⣀⠤⡺⠓⡜⢰⠋⢟⠟⠏⣟⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠓⠢⢤⣀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠉⠉⠀⢀⡜⠁⠘⢀⡎⠀⠘⣆⢒⢸⡌⠙⠦⣀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⠎⠀⠀⢀⡞⠀⠀⠀⠘⣿⡝⢿⣦⡄⠈⠉⠒⠢⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⠃⠀⠀⢠⠞⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠹⣷⡛⢿⣷⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠴⠃⠀⠀⡰⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠹⣧⠘⣿⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⠜⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠹⣷⡸⣷⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠛⠃⢻⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀

[kamospeach]

smokin' weed out the container .ᐟ

plot: plug!ony wants to show a innocent girl how to really spend a friday night

content warning: drug use, black coded, driving under the influence, exhibitionism if you squint, bathroom sex, quickie, fingering, oral f!recieving, size kink if you drag it, standing, backshots

peachy's yap: wc 3.1k .ᐟ anything about ony will do it for me. hood nigga ony is my fav ony sorry not sorry.

"yeah, one of her closest friends. i told her i'd come get her but she refused to leave her friend alone at home." connie informed ony about you as they made their way to your house. ony shrugged following the directions on the navigation not too worried about you.

the two guys had a few drops to make before turning in for the night. connie's car was at home and he didn't feel like doubling back. pulling up to your house mansion ony's jaw dropped. connie nodded looking at him and not shocked by the mere size of your home anymore.

"she's fucking rich and she's a little sheltered," he warned him knowing how ony can get. he's not loud or super outgoing but he's very assertive and he's bold. ony just nodded watching you and sasha walk out of the front door.

"you didn't tell me she looked that good." ony hit connie on the shoulder and connie frowned up.

"why would i? that's my girl's close friend, she's like a sister." he shook his head as sasha and you entered the car. sasha leaned up to kiss connie before she went back to talking to you.

"y'all not gon' say hi t'me?" ony asked and sasha smacked her lips.

"you always beggin' for attention, hi ony," she said and ony looked at you and you cleared your throat.

"hi onyankapon," you said his full name and he shook his head.

"i know we just met but you can call me ony, ma. i prefer that anyways," he tells you and you nod giving him a small smile before turning back to sasha who slaps your arm. connie gave him a look that said 'really?' and ony smiled to himself.

the four of you rode around as connie and ony made their final drops for the night. sasha and you giggling and gossiping in the back. until ony heard something that piqued his interest.

"you've never been to a sideshow?" he said not caring if he was caught listening in on your conversation.

"no..." you said and he laughed.

"hey con isn't there one this friday?” ony asked and connie nodded grabbing his phone and keys.

“yeah eren and jean said they're going too," he said opening the door sasha followed behind him and ony nodded.

"they spinnin'?" he asked and your brows furrowed not understanding what 'spinning' referred to. while con nodded you looked at sasha who waved at you to get out of the car. you followed behind sasha and connie and they took you home.

over the next week, ony had invited you and sasha to tag along as they made their drops. you and sasha sitting in the back gossiping and watching tiktoks. while ony and connie eavesdropped on the two of you. connie adds his two sense now and then while ony agreeing or disagreeing.

when friday rolled around you were nervous. ony promised you that you'd have a good time and to wear a sweater or something. over the last week, you and ony had exchanged numbers and had casual conversations over text. the first time he called you was last night when he facetimed you to talk about the plans for the night.

-flashback-

frank ocean played on your speaker as you did your homework. you hummed to the song you were sidetracked by the new eye masks you had bought. after putting them on you put your focus back on your homework.

your music was interrupted by your phone ringing, expecting it to be your parents or sasha. you looked down seeing ony was facetiming. your brain scrambled making your hair was good. you answered the phone sitting it against your vanity.

"hello?" you said looking up at the phone and seeing ony eyes low looking at you. he was clearly in the car and smoke clouded his face. he licked his lips and smiled small showing his gold grillz.

"what you doin’?" he asked bringing the phone close to his face and putting his eye in the camera. you laughed at his silly gesture shaking your head.

"i'm doin' homework." ony nods grabbing the blunt from who you assumed was connie. they were best friends and if ony was with a group of people connie had to be there too or he wasn't going. although ony was bold and spoke how he felt he was a usually quiet person. he didn't speak unless he felt comfortable enough to put in his opinion.

"you still comin wit us tomorrow right?" he asked and you nodded your head quickly.

"of course, we've been talkin' about it all week," you tell ony and he smiles. you were excited for this friday you liked spending time with ony and you'd get to go out and have fun for once.

-flashback over-

you looked in the mirror one last time nodding at your outfit. it wasn't insanely cold since it was between summer and fall. you grabbed a purse making sure you had your essentials.

lip gloss. phone. gum. wallet. keys.

after you checked that you had everything you ran downstairs going out to ony's car. this time connie's car was parked in front of his but you didn't notice. you opened up the back seat not seeing sasha.

"you sittin' in the front with me ma," he tells you. you nod and join him in the front. once it dawned on you that connie and sasha were leading the way and you two were following behind them.

"i thought con and sasha were in here," you said looking at ony's side profile. he looked better than he did on the factime yesterday. brown skin glowing under the sunset his mustache and goatee combo. he was like a fine-ass black movie star and you couldn't take his eyes off him.

"i thought they were riding with us but con said he'd drive." he informed you and you nodded still staring at him. "starin' is rude y'know that right?" he laughed and you quickly looked away from him.

"i ain't mean ta stare." you clear your throat and he hums. although you didn't mean to stare you still did anyway. eyes trained on the way his arm covered in tattoos steered his free hand holding a blunt between his pointer and thumb.

he had on a loose white short sleeve with black graphics and black cargo pants. he had on a durag and a black and white yankees fitted and maison mihara canvas lows. he looked too good his golds shining under the setting sun.

the rest of the ride was silent while ony smoked his blunt and followed behind connie. when you all pulled up to the abandoned empty lot people were hoping out of their car. big speakers were pulled out and music began to play. car after car came in drifting in the small circle. a couple of people got hit which made you a little nervous to be as close as you were.

ony and connie had introduced you to reiner, armin, mikasa, annie, eren, jean, levi, and hange. you were shocked by the large group of friends you had never met in the 10 years you were friends with sasha. you all leaned on reiner's big pickup truck watching eren drive into the circle.

"is he good?" you asked looking up at ony. you were leaning against his chest as his arms wrapped around your shoulders.

"as fuck. lot of people come just ta' see him." ony told you and you nodded taking in your surroundings. "you good?" he asked and you smiled at him with a nod. honestly, you were enjoying your time here.

"you think i could spend more time with y'all?" you asked and he nodded.

"hell yeah, you're sasha's friend and you're my friend now so of course you can." he smiled down at you and you looked away too shy to look at him. some guy walked up to the two of you smiling at ony.

"wassup man you got that shit on you?" he asked and ony nodded.

"you know i do." he laughed dapping him up and taking the money from the man's hand. he handed him the bag and the man quickly walked off.

although it was legal ony didn't care for everyone knowing he sold. especially at a sideshow that was as crowded as this. he wanted to vibe out with you especially since he felt like y'all were feeling each other. he wanted to put 100% of his attention on you and you only. not selling to some potheads who couldn't spare an extra 5 minutes asking someone else.

your big mesmerized eyes were looking everywhere shocked at what you were seeing. ony smiled concedely taking credit for being the one to show you something new. he enjoyed how every time something happened you'd look back at him with a shocked expression. pointing at the car saying "did you see that?" "look at that car" "oooo that one's girlie!". he loved every second of your obvious enjoyment.

after the sideshow, the group decided to go to waffle house very original. it was going on 2 am and everyone sat around the table eating their food. eren made money and you weren't exactly sure how. ony made money too, that you knew how.

"i'll be right back you told the group and they nodded." you stood up walking to the bathroom expecting to see stalls you realized there was only one family bathroom in the whole restaurant.

after doing your business you washed your hands. you grabbed your lip gloss out of your purse reapplying as someone knocked on the door. you didn't answer initially thinking they'd notice someone was in here after they wiggled the locked handle. yet the knock came again.

"just a second!" you yelled and whoever was behind the door knocked harder. "i said just a second the fuck?" you yelled swinging the door open and seeing ony standing there, toothpick in his mouth.

"you yellin' at me ma?" he asked and you smiled backing up the closeness between the two of you too much. but it only made it worse since ony came into the bathroom with you locking the door behind him.

"nah, i thought you was somebody else. if you would've said it was you i would've let you in," you said and ony raised a brow.

"let me in? i really just came to talk to you with all those people around. been waiting to be wit just you." he said licking his lips at you making you look away from him.

"why just me?" you asked and he shrugged wrapping his arm around your waist and pulling you closer to him.

"i been wanting to kiss you since tuesday," he said lowly in your ear. you were taken aback by this confession since you had only met him sunday.

"kiss me?" you asked and ony laughed.

"you askin' or tellin'?" he smirked as your face was hot from his flirty comments.

"both," you said building up the courage to try keyword try to flirt back with ony.

"yeah," he responded to your question and then the hand on your waist fell to your ass. this reaction was a response to you telling. he kissed you like he had been wanting to do for the past week.

your lips moved fast and hungrily the sweet taste of syrup on his lips. while he tasted the cherry flavor of your lip gloss. the mix of flavors is sweet and tasty. your hands reached up grabbing his cheeks and pulling him closer to you. his other now on your waist.

"mmm." you moan into his mouth as his hands knead the fatty flesh of your ass. you pulled away standing on tiptoes to trail kisses from his lips down his neck. your hands going up his shirt running up his toned abs.

"right now?" he asked in shock and you knew what he meant not needing it to be interpreted. you nodded looking up at him with doe eyes. "i could take you home tho..." he said, breathing unevenly he was getting turned on by the minute.

"need you now, m'so wet," you whispered to him. ony was shocked by your boldness and your admission of needing him. he smirked at you picking you up and pushing your back against the wall of the bathroom.

he realized now that this wasn't a good idea since the one piece you wore had to be unzipped from the back. he let you down taking off your jacket and hanging it on the hook. looking for the zipper on the back of your one-piece.

"how the fuck do you take this shit off?" he grumbled and you were whining from being impatient. "i know baby i know i'm tryna find this bitch ass zipper. lucky we ain't at home i'd rip this bitch off you." he said angrily finally finding the zipper. he helped you out of it and hung it on the hook too.

"c'mere," you said wrapping your arms around his neck. he unbuckled his pants pulling them down. he couldn't afford to have a wet spot on his pants when you both returned to the table. "we only have 10 minutes."

"that'll do," he grunted lifting your right leg and squatting down. placing your leg over his shoulder he wasted no time pushing two of his fingers into your tight cunt.

"fuck wait." you moaned out and ony hummed. you hadn't had sex in a while and you were tighter than usual. the stretch from ony's fingers was almost too much for you to take.

"im thicker than this." he warned and the thought of his big cock tearing you in half had you clenching on his fingers. "oh you like that? you're getting wetter just thinkin' about me?" he taunted you as he fucked his fingers into you. your juices dripped down your leg and he licked it up. trapping your clit into his mouth as he ate you out so good.

he pulled his fingers out of you pushing his fingers into your mouth. you grabbed his wrist and sucked his fingers clean. his eyes dilated as he watched you in awe he knew he needed to feel your mouth around him. but you didn't have time.

with that reminder, ony spun you around pressing your chest against the wall. you spread your legs bending over enough that your ass arched. ony pulled a condom out of his wallet ripping the condom. he slid the condom down his dick rubbing the tip on your clit.

"ready?"

"yes." you moaned and ony groaned as he pushed himself halfway in. and he was right he was thicker than his fingers. the stretch brought tears to your eyes, and you turned around looking to see he was only halfway in. he pushed more of himself in and you whined pushing against his stomach.

"let me just get all the way and you can take all the time you need," he said leaning forward to kiss away your tears. you nodded letting him bottom out in you the tip of his dick kissing your cervix. you moved slowly as your tight cunt adjusted to him.

"m'ready," you told him and he nodded starting off with nice slow strokes. your moans were uncontrollable as he pounded into you painfully slow. "f...faster please." you mumbled and ony laughed at your plea.

"what was that ma i couldn't hear you," he said making his strokes even slower to antagonize you.

"faster ony please!" you yelp and he smirks loving the way you said screaming out his name and begging for him. and just like you asked ony fucked you faster his hips snapped into you. his hands roughly gripped your waist as he bullied his big cock into you.

"fuck baby this pussy s’good for me. so tight and warm." he moaned throwing his head back. he slapped your ass and gripped it roughly. his other hand followed suit. now both hands were on your ass spreading it open he fucked into you. he was hypnotized by the glistening of your essence coating him and the way you grip him.

his hips never slowed down as if he was digging the orgasm out of you. his groans were almost louder than your moans as he pounded into you. your hands flat against the wall as your body roughly hit the wall from ony's thrust. because of his fast pace and roughness, you were about to cum.

"fuck... on.... cum...." was all you could manage from the way his dick fucked you senseless.

"you cumming ma? yeahhhh good girl. tell me how good it feels." he groaned angling his hips to fuck you even better. you let out a squeal 'feels s'good' as his dick hit every spot that made you come undone. "fuck i'm behind you, cum wit me baby." he moaned leaning down to whisper in your ear.

"oh my god onyyyy..." you whined as you came all over his cock ony followed cumming into the condom. your cream painting his cock white as he continued to rock his hips into yours.

"so good for me," he grunted his cum still leaking out into the condom. he stilled in your as you both caught your breath.

"ooo shit," he grunted his cum still leaking out into the condom. he stilled in your as you both caught your breath. “gotta… hurry up,” he huffed grabbing paper towels and wetting them to wipe in between your legs. 

he cleaned you up and helped you put back on your clothes. he pulled up his pants and helped you get situated before you both were ready to leave. as you opened up the door reiner was about to knock on the door. his eyes wide looking between the two of you with a knowing look. 

“if i ain’t know no better i’d think the two of ya was fuckin’.” he said in his thick country accent and you looked up at ony who looked down at you. “i’m just fuckin’ wit y’all.” he laughed letting the two of you out to go inside and use the bathroom. the two of you laughed at that awkward moment until you walked up to the table. everyone was looking up at the two of you and down at your legs.

“shit.” ony mumbled and you looked down, there was a rip in the inner thing of your bodysuit.

“they was fucking!” eren laughed and mikasa hit his arm telling him to hush.

“we gon’ go.” ony said grabbing your arm as the two of you left out of waffle house.

“how did this happen? you took it off!” you whined as you both got in the car and ony drove you home.

“i mean i heard a rip but i thought that was the zipper.” ony grumbled and you snapped your head to look at him.

“you what?” you yelled and he laughed.

“oops?”

[zepskies]

A SIMPLE TOUCH

Pairing: Soldier Boy (Ben) x Reader

Summary: Annie still has reservations about Ben, and you dating him for that matter…until she sees it.

AN: Surprise drabble! Dipping back into the BMD-verse for a sec. Chronologically, it's set sometime after In the Dark.

Prompt from @lifeonawhim: The reader is physically affectionate. (BMD) Ben sees this, tries to give her that comfort, and it just surprises everyone—how Ben is a source of comfort for her, even though he’s quite literally the strongest man.

Originally posted on Patreon: 1/01/25

Word Count: 600

Tags/Warnings: Angst, hurt/comfort, fluff

Break Me Down Masterlist

Annie was loyal to a fault. For that reason, she was still skeptical about Soldier Boy—about Ben, even after Vought Tower collapsed.

You might’ve been living with him now, but that didn’t mean he was safe, or even a good enough man for you.

She watched you closely in concern while the team filed onto the small private plane. It was set to take you all from northern Pennsylvania back down to New York. You weren’t injured, but in a way, you were still walking wounded.

The rogue supe that the Supe Affairs team was called in to catch had destroyed an office building. You, M.M., and Frenchie had saved a handful of people while Ben and the rest of the team handled the supe. But a young woman slipped right through your fingers off a balcony, falling to the pavement from three stories high.

You still remembered the look of shock cross her face. It was frozen there, even after her body lay prone on the cement. Her blue eyes, perfect mirrors of didn’t see that coming.

That was the picture you couldn’t get out of your head.

Now, you were moving slow, your face tired and drawn. Annie was about to ask if you were okay, even though she knew the answer full well.

Ben reached out his hand to you first. He was ahead of you in the aisle, having put his carry-on bag and yours in the overhead bin. You looked at his hand, and then up at him.

“Come ‘ere,” he said, his voice deep and steady. It steadied you, along with his hand around yours. He guided you not into the seat next to him, but onto his lap. By now he’d changed out of his suit, leaving him in jeans and a dark gray sweater you picked out for him, rolled up to his elbows.

Annie sat with Hughie across the aisle, but she had you and Ben in the corner of her eye. She marveled at the way he was holding you, seeming to know you needed the contact. With a sigh, you allowed yourself to lay against his chest while his warm hand ran up and down your back. A simple touch was all you needed to relax in his arms.

“Don’t mind me. Just gonna sleep for about ten years,” you murmured against his chest. You laid a hand over his heart, silently thanking him as your fingers drifted back and forth.

Ben’s lips quirked upwards. “Just try not to drool on me. New shirt, you know.”

Despite yourself, that managed to make you smile, huffing a laugh. You shoved his shoulder in retaliation. “I don’t drool.”

He knew for a fact that you did, but he just smirked. He sunk his fingers into your hair and inhaled the familiar floral scent of your shampoo.

“Get some shut-eye,” he rumbled. “We’ll be home soon.”

His thumb brushed your cheek, encouraging you to rest. So you did. Your eyes closed on you after you let go of a deep, even breath.

In the grand scheme of things, it was a nothing moment. This was a man who had crumbled two skyscrapers and scarred Hughie for life. (He’d never be able to listen to Air Supply again, pretty much for as long as he lived.)

And yet, maybe it meant Annie could stop worrying so much about your judgment where Ben was concerned.

Only much later, she would realize that this was the moment she actually started to trust him.

AN: I want to get back into BMD world for a longer visit, hopefully soon. 💚💚

Keep Reading in the BMD-verse:

Next in line, we have a fun, fluffy, angsty, smutty, 3-part Christmas special, Love Actually:

Summary: Ben gets in late on Christmas Eve with a Grinch-like attitude, but you’re determined to force some holiday cheer into his system. At least, you hope you can, before he meets the rest of your dysfunctional family on Christmas Day.

▶️ Next Story: Love Actually

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[empress-ghoul]

You’ve gotten good at getting a sense for these sorts of things. A feeling in your chest, a twist in your gut, a sixth sense, if you will. You think you’d prefer your sixth sense to be seeing ghosts, rather than sensing when creepy men are going to approach you.

You just wanted a drink. It had been a long fucking day at work and you just wanted a drink without worrying about actually talking to people. That was why you sat at the end of the bar.

Maybe you should have just bought a bottle of wine on the way home. Your sixth sense had told you that going into the bar was a bad idea. At least then this guy wouldn’t be talking to you.

He was attractive at least, but you couldn’t be in less of a mood and he was practically sitting on top of you.

“Rough day?” he asked.

Your eye nearly twitched. “Something like that.”

“Yeah,” he scoffed. “I can tell.”

And he was rude. Cherry on top.

You rolled your eyes and shot him a glare, your lip curling slightly into a snarl. “Yeah,” you mimic. “You don’t look too hot either, asshole.”

Cash is handed to the bartender and you reach for your bag. He beats you to it, gripping the strap in an iron hold. Indignation rises. Part of you wants to wrestle it back, but the other part knows you’d just end up embarrassing yourself.

“We got off on the wrong foot,” he begins. “I’m Johnny—“

“I’m not interested. Bag. Now.”

You hold your hand out, but something tells you he’s not the type to listen.

That feeling is confirmed when he laughs. Yet another cherry on top.

“How about this; I buy you a drink and you get your bag back after?”

There’s a beat of silence where you nearly laugh. Was he serious? You’re about to ask him when he’s suddenly ordering for you and holding your bag in his lap.

You had to bargain with your tired mind, telling yourself that you were getting a free drink out of this. Frustrated, yet resigned, you sit back down.

He grins at you and your sixth sense prickles the back of your neck.

Johnny was good at talking and part of you almost felt bad. He seemed lonely. You were certain only a lonely, mildly insane person would steal a purse and buy the purse owner a drink just to have someone to talk to.

But you were lonely too. Only a lonely, mildly insane person would let him buy more drinks after getting their purse back.

You barely noticed the hand on your thigh. By the time you did, he was right in your face.

“Bonnie thing, aren’t you?” he purred.

That’s how you ended up getting tugged back to his apartment. He kept an arm around your waist and your bag in his hand the entire walk. Right outside the door, when his hand was on the doorknob, you realized how bad of an idea this was.

One night stands weren’t exactly your thing, especially not on a weeknight. You had a little bit of dignity, after all.

Plus, your sixth sense practically vibrated in your chest to tell you to turn and run. But suddenly the door was open and he was pushing you inside.

The door shut and locked behind you both, and suddenly you were standing in front of a wall of a man. Your throat tightened when you felt Johnny’s arms around your waist, trapping you in place.

“What’d you think, LT?” Johnny asked, squeezing you tighter.

He sounded so eager, so hopefully.

You stared up at the man in front of you. He looked…bored? Almost uninterested. Similar to a wolf who caught a meal too easily.

Despite being tipsy on the walk from the bar to here, you were suddenly stone cold sober and frozen in place.

A massive hand gripped your jaw, tilting your head up. A calloused thumb brushed over your bottom lip, yet you couldn’t find it in yourself to scream. Only tremble as Johnny rubbed a stubbly cheek against your soft one.

“This the one you told me ‘bout?” the enormous man asked.

Something hard pressed against the fat of your ass as Johnny smiled. “Yeah, the one from the train,” he preened, clearly proud of himself. “Can we keep her?”

Maybe you should have just bought a bottle of wine on the way home.

[trustmypoison]

SVT when you simp for them

Requested? Yes!

Request: ‘Hiiii, just saw Ateez and simping for them, can I request same for Seventeen please 🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻 Thank you very much🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻’

Seungcheol

Have you ever seen someone try to look smug while also blushing profusely? That’s what this would be like. He wants to be cool and say, “Of course, you love me,” but any smugness he tries to inject into the statement falls flat because of how pink his cheeks are. 

Jeonghan

Genuinely smug. If there’s any blushing at all, it’s so minimal that you might not notice. He’s absolutely going to egg you on and be like, “Uh huh, and what else?” I fear he’d be smug either way, so you might as well tell him what you really think. 

Joshua

Giggly. Not even blushing, just giggling at how sweet he thinks it is. He’ll dish it out as well - in five minutes though. He’s gotta soak up all of your lovely compliments first. 

Jun

A whiner!! Doesn’t know how to take it so he groans and tells you to stop fangirling from behind his hands as he covers his face. But if you do stop, he might peek between his fingers because he wasn’t serious. Keep going, he just can’t look at you. 

Hoshi

Melts into a puddle. I mean, just curls up into a ball against you because he’s overwhelmed by the compliments. Blushing with a big smile. Joshua needs five minutes but Hoshi needs hours to be able to properly return the simping. 

Wonwoo

Totally entertained by this. Will not blush and might not even crack a smile, doing his best to look unaffected. But he thinks you’re cute and your words are sweet. An underwhelming reaction of “Mhm, whatever you say,” but I’m not sure what you expected here. 

Woozi

Another one that’s secretly entertained by this, but whereas Wonwoo’s reaction is flat, Woozi actually does a great job of looking annoyed. He’ll be like, “Why are fangirling like this right now??” He’ll fold if you seem worried that he’s genuinely bothered, but he otherwise will act like your compliments are physically painful. 

DK

A shy baby. He has so much to say usually, but he’ll be a little flustered and soft-spoken when you do this. Later, when you’ve settled down, he’ll ask if you really meant all the nice things you said. Tell him yes!!!!

Mingyu

I think he’d genuinely be pretty smug to start, but the longer it goes on he might start to feel sort of flustered. I think he likes words of affirmation and this really feeds that need. But I think one of his preferred love languages to give is physical affection, so this just ends in him wrapped around you. 

Minghao

I think he’d be one of the few who doesn’t get flustered or shy, but at the same time isn’t super smug either. I think he’d just soak up your attention with a sweet, slightly entertained smile. He won’t fish for more simping or anything, but he’ll let you go on as long as you feel like. 

Seungkwan

Did you ever think that simping would end in a fight?? Not serious, of course. But for every statement you have, he’s going, “And what about YOU!!” Aggressive as it is, there’s a lot of sweetness in how vehemently you both simp after one another. 

Vernon

A long stare and a few blinks, and finally, a simple nod and an “okay.” I hope you didn’t expect anything more. I mean, he’s delighted by the compliments but I just don’t see him being expressive about it. He takes your simping and ranting in stride. 

Chan

This is an ego boost for him for sure, but he can’t let you know that. He’ll listen and slowly nod, sometimes looking concerned. He’s totally joking when he finally kisses your cheek and says, “You worry me sometimes.” 

[cosmosluckycharms]

Bug Like Angel

He gets me so high

ty to that one anon who gave me the idea for this

tecnically this takes place between parts 4 and 5

so i guess this would be part 4.5?

anon ily for givijg me this idea

kind of a short chapter lol

You got into an argument earlier.

It wasn't over anything serious, you don't even remember what it was about.

All you remember is Damian telling you you weren't worthy of being part of his father's bloodline.

That stung a little.

You tried defending yourself and telling the others in hopes of others taking your side.

Only for everyone to take his.

"He's had a hard life," Dick said to you, still looking at Damian.

"So have I!" went unsaid, as you put your head down and looked at the floor.

It isn't fair!

It isn't fair how he walked away Scott free smirking as if he won!

It isn't fair how you were the only one scolded by Alfred and Bruce for arguing!

It isn't fair how you ran to your room to cry!

It isn't fair how you had no one on your side!

You needed someone on your side.

After a while of sobbing on your pillow (which was now wet), you felt your phone buzz and your ringtone go off. You were getting a call from Hobie.

It wasn't rare for him to call you, all of the spider-kids call each other at random times of the day to just talk about whatever.

One time you called them all at 3 am because you thought of a dumb invention that 'could change lives', only for Gwen to tell you it already existed, and didn't change lives.

One time, Miles called you to tell you he got 100 on his physics test.

One time, Hobie called you because he didn't know how long he should cook something in the microwave.

One time, Peni called you to tell you how she accidentally bought 3 copies of the same book. Again.

One time, Gwen called you at 1 am to ask if you could dye her hair again since her hair dye was fading again.

One time, Pavitr called you to ask which Valentine's gift he should give Gayatri since he was stuck between two options. He ended up choosing both gifts for her.

It was normal for everyone to call anyone for any reason.

You tried to wipe your tears and clear your voice so you could pretend you were fine, and you picked up the phone to talk to him.

As soon as you picked up, he started rambling about how his day went.

You didn't mind calling him, it took your mind off things.

Hobie felt something was off. Sure, you were listening to him intently, but you usually had your camera on and played with stupid filters while he talked. You didn't have your camera on like usual.

He decided to not bring it up and just let you tell him when you were ready.

"Anywho, I bought around 54 boxes of Girl Scout cookies-" Hobie said, while holding up a box of Thin Mints to the camera

"why did you buy 54??" you said in disbelief, your voice slightly cracking, which you cringed at.

"Don't worry about it." you laughed a little at that.

"Keep your window open, I'm on my way." you saw him start walking on camera

"Why?" you asked

"Get ready, we're going out," he said while grabbing 5 boxes of the Girl Scout cookies.

He hung up before explaining anything.

You got up from your bed and decided to fix yourself up a bit before he came over.

You redid your makeup because it smeared while you were crying.

After 5 minutes, you heard a knock on your window.

You went to see what it was, and Hobie was knocking at your window looking a little stupid.

You unlocked it and opened the window.

"I thought you were gonna unlock it?" Hobie said already looking around your room and making himself at home.

He and the others have come over a lot, it's somewhat surprising that none of your family noticed.

"I forgot!" you said while shrugging your shoulders. It wasn't a lie, you did forget.

"You're always forgetting, never remembering," Hobie said, lying on your comfy bed.

"Okay so I forget a couple of times and suddenly I'm always forgetful, I dye Gwen's hair and cut my own, does that make me a barber?" you said, dramatically before flopping onto your bed next to Hobie.

"So, what's got you all miffed?" he asked while playing around with a plushie that was on your bed.

"What do you mean?" you sat up to look at him in confusion.

"Miffed: somewhat annoyed; peeved," Hobie explained.

"No, not about what miffed means, I know what that means, but what do you mean?" you asked, tilting your head slightly.

"I mean, you look pissed, what happened?" he asked, while playing around with a volleyball he got from who knows where.

You started fidgeting with your hands. "Well, me and Damian got into an argument earlier. I don't even remember what it was about. He said I wasn't worthy of Bruce's blood. Which honestly did hurt a little. What really pissed me off was how no one took my side. How no one defended me. How no one checked up on me after I ran to my room and cried." A tear ran down your cheek. You couldn't tell if it was from anger or sadness.

Hobie sat up and cleared the tear away from your cheek. "C'mon Tinkerbell, let's get outta here," He said, while getting up and stretching.

"And go where?" you got up as well.

"Anywhere. It's clear everyone here is bonkers." He started walking towards your window.

"Okay, just gimmie a sec!" You ran to grab your wallet and phone and followed him out the window.

You were now atop the bat signal, next to Hobie.

After raiding a gas station for its snacks (which you knew Alfred would never approve of) you guys were just sitting down in silence.

It was pretty nice, you were leaning on Hobie as he lit up what you thought was a cigarette.

Turns out it wasn't. You realized as soon as the smell of weed hit you.

You watched as he passed you the blunt, "Want a hit?"

You hesitated for a moment. What would your family think about this?

Hobie saw you hesitating, and not wanting to make you uncomfortable said "Don't do it if you don't want to."

You decided to do it.

Fuck what your family thinks about this.

Fuck your family. Fuck them all. Fuck Damian, fuck Dick, fuck Jason, fuck Bruce, and fuck Alfred.

They didn't care, they didn't defend you, they don't notice you, why would they notice or care about this?

They were probably dressed in their stupid spandex costumes beating people up.

A long time ago you longed and begged to be one of them.

What is the worst that can happen anyway?

"pass me it."

Hobie then taught you how to do it. It was a bit scary for you, you haven't ever smoked or done weed or anything before.

You took a hit and immediately started coughing.

"You alright there, luv?" You gave him a thumbs up before taking a couple more hits and getting a hang of it.

You guys started devouring the snacks and telling dumb stories.

You fell off due to jumping to the light from the batsignal suddenly turning on and scaring you. You laughed when Hobie had to pick you up from the rooftop.

You could stay like this forever, just you and your big brother.

hi guys heres some fluff and angst

i feel like since writing these silly little stories my writing has gotten a tiny bit better

im not sure tho

anyways anon ty again i loved writing this

taglist(please lmk if i forgot you!):@bath1lda @mariadvorak @coralaura @tsxukikami @hjgdhghoe @coffeeaddictxd @cxcilla @kaitense1 @star-girl-interlud3 @sukaretto-n @welpthisisboring @itsberrydreemurstuff @lovebug-apple @crazycaoticsimp @bellethesleepypotato @blackhood1229 @jsprien213

[scoupsakakitty]

Beautiful | idol!Hoshi x idolxReader | angst, fluff

Tw: weight loss, not feeling enough

The rain poured relentlessly, blurring the neon lights of Seoul into streaks of color as Hoshi stood outside the apartment building. His fingers clenched around the umbrella handle, though he wasn’t sure why he had bothered bringing it. He was already soaked, and something about the cold seemed fitting.

He hesitated before pressing the buzzer.

Silence.

Then, a static-laced voice: "Who is it?"

Hearing her voice after all this time nearly broke him. "It’s me."

A long pause. Too long.

"Go home, Soonyoung."

He swallowed. "I just want to see you. Please."

"Don’t you have something better to do? Like catching a flight to Japan?" she said bitterly.

"I’ll take the next flight," he replied without hesitation. "You’re more important."

More silence, then a click. The door unlocked. He let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding and stepped inside.

Y/N was thinner than he remembered. The weight loss was noticeable even under the oversized hoodie she wore, sleeves pulled over trembling fingers. Her once-bright eyes were dull, lips slightly chapped, the kind of exhaustion that no amount of sleep could fix settled deep in her features.

Seeing her like this made his chest tighten. This wasn’t the Y/N he knew.

"You shouldn’t be here," she said, voice barely above a whisper.

Hoshi ignored the warning, stepping inside fully. "I had to see you. I had to know if you were okay."

She let out a bitter laugh, running a hand through her tangled hair. "Do I look okay to you?"

No. She looked like she had been barely holding on, like she had been drowning in something she couldn’t escape from. And the worst part? He hadn’t been there to pull her out.

"I’ve been watching you… on stage, in interviews, award shows. You’re disappearing, Y/N. You’re hurting," he admitted, voice raw. "Your friend reached out to me. She’s worried. And she thought maybe… maybe I could help."

Her eyes flashed. "And what? You think you can just come back and fix me? That your presence will magically make things better?"

"No," he whispered. "But I can be here. I can hold you up if you let me."

She scoffed. "You left, Soonyoung. And now you want to be my savior?"

"I never stopped caring," he said, his voice shaking. "I never stopped loving you."

That was the breaking point. Her lips trembled, and before she could stop herself, she collapsed into his arms.

"It’s so hard, Soonyoung," she sobbed into his chest. "No matter what I do, there’s always something wrong with me. I’m never pretty enough, never talented enough. Always too much or too little. They find every flaw, every mistake. The pressure is… it’s crushing me."

He held her tightly, rubbing soothing circles on her back. "Y/N, listen to me. You are the most beautiful person in the world. And not because of how you look. You are beautiful for the way you think, for the sparkle in your eyes when you talk about something you love, for your ability to make people smile without trying."

She clung to him, her breathing ragged.

"I am proud of you," he continued. "I am proud of you for trying, even when it hurts. I wish I could tell you when you’ll finally feel okay again, when your head will be above water, but healing isn’t something you can time. It isn’t something you can measure. But things will get lighter, little by little, as you break through the weight on your shoulders. Keep facing what you need to face. You are getting closer every single day, even if it doesn’t feel that way. And I hope you start to believe that you are worthy of everything you want in this life. You deserve to be adored and cared for in every way your mind, body, and heart long for. You are effortlessly beautiful. You are the embodiment of beauty. Don’t let anyone tell you differently."

She sniffled, pulling back slightly to look at him. "Why do you still love me? After everything?"

He smiled sadly, brushing a strand of hair from her face. "The only feeling stronger than my love for you is the ache that comes with missing you. I love everything about you. Maybe too much. But how could I not love that smile, that laughter, those eyes, that passion?"

Her breath hitched, fresh tears pooling in her eyes.

"I hate you," she whispered, voice trembling.

"I know," he said softly, pressing his forehead against hers. "Hate me all you want. Just let me stay."

She let out a shuddering breath and, after what felt like an eternity, nodded against his chest.

Soonyoung held her, his arms tightening around her fragile frame, and for the first time in months, she let herself lean into the warmth she had been missing.

Outside, the rain kept falling, washing away the past, making room for something new.

[777bae]

WITH YOU JACK HUGHES

Summary :: After a brutal injury, you’re left to navigate recovery on your own. But Jack, despite the distance, becomes your lifeline—calling every day, offering comfort, and doing everything he can to be there. When he finally returns, his unwavering love and support help you heal, proving that together, you can overcome anything.

Warnings :: description of injury

Word count :: 5.6k

It all started at an NHL-run community skate event. You’d been invited along with a few other women’s league players to skate alongside the NHL stars, giving young fans a chance to meet their idols in a laid-back, personal setting. You didn’t expect much from the event—just another community outreach, another day to interact with fans and grow the game you loved. But that was before you met him.

Jack Hughes had been one of the NHL’s rising stars for a while, and despite the buzz around him, he was surprisingly down-to-earth. Tall, with his bright blue eyes and easy smile, he was exactly as you’d imagined him—charismatic, charming, and somehow completely approachable.

As you laced up your skates, adjusting the blades on your boots, you’d heard his laugh first, a genuine, warm sound that made it hard not to smile. You hadn’t even looked up when you realized he was skating toward you until you felt the brush of a glove on your shoulder.

“You here to show us how it’s done?” Jack’s voice was playful, but there was a hint of curiosity behind his words. You glanced up, met his gaze, and for a moment, both of you seemed to just… stop. He wasn’t towering over you, but there was a light in his eyes that made you feel like you were suddenly the center of attention.

“Me?” You raised an eyebrow and smirked. “You’re the one who’s been stealing all the spotlight. I just came to get some practice in. You know, to make sure I don’t show you up.”

He laughed again, this time shaking his head as he lowered himself into a comfortable skating stance. “I’m not worried. I’ve seen how fast some of the girls on your team can skate.” He leaned in a little, his voice a touch quieter. “But I have to admit, I’m hoping I’ll learn something today.”

It was all playful banter, but somehow, there was a connection that flickered between you in that brief exchange. Something about his easy confidence mixed with a genuine curiosity about the women’s game. It wasn’t like the typical interactions you had with male players; there was no condescension, no weird power dynamic. Just a guy who appreciated the game and the players—regardless of their gender.

The rest of the skate went by in a blur of friendly competition and shared laughter, with Jack occasionally pulling you into a race around the rink. You couldn’t deny that his speed on the ice matched his charm off it. It was fun—refreshing, really—especially since you were used to competing against men who sometimes didn’t seem to understand the level of skill and commitment women brought to the game. But Jack, he didn’t seem like that at all. If anything, he seemed eager to learn, to listen.

Afterward, while most of the other players were heading off to grab something to eat, Jack caught up to you again as you were packing your gear away.

“Hey, you wanna grab some dinner?” he asked, his voice casual but with that little spark of hopefulness. “I promise I won’t make it weird—just thought it’d be nice to hang out, talk about the game… maybe see if you’re as competitive off the ice as you are on it.”

It was a little unexpected, but something about the offer felt right. You’d spent so many years in a world of competition, sometimes too focused on the next game, the next practice. The thought of having a simple, easy evening, talking about something other than hockey, sounded like a refreshing change.

“Sure,” you agreed, trying to hide the small smile creeping onto your face. “I could use the company.”

That first dinner was nothing extraordinary—just a low-key meal at a local diner, where you both dug into greasy comfort food and swapped stories about your respective teams. But the conversation never lagged. Jack talked about his early days in hockey, his family, his goals, and somehow, you found yourself opening up in ways you hadn’t expected, sharing things you usually kept locked behind a barrier of professionalism. It felt natural, easy, like you’d known him much longer than just a few hours.

By the time you were leaving the diner, you felt something click. It wasn’t just the conversation. It was the way Jack made you feel seen, valued. He didn’t view you as just a player; he saw you as someone who belonged in the same conversation as the men he idolized.

That night, as he walked you to your car, he hesitated before speaking.

“Do you think we could do this again?” His tone was soft, uncertain—nothing like the cocky attitude you sometimes saw from athletes. There was a real vulnerability in his question, an openness that you hadn’t expected from someone with so much attention on him.

You smiled, already knowing the answer before you even said it. “Yeah, I think I’d like that.”

The following months passed in a whirlwind. The connection you’d felt that night only deepened as you found yourselves spending more time together, whether it was over quick dinners after games or stolen moments between practices. The distance between your homes had been a challenge at first, but Jack made it work. His busy NHL schedule and your packed NWHL calendar had their limitations, but you made it a priority. Phone calls, FaceTime, and text messages became lifelines, bridging the gap when you couldn’t be in the same place.

And then came the moment when it all felt a little more real. One night, after a game where you’d scored the game-winning goal, Jack called you to congratulate you. As you chatted about the game, the conversation shifted.

“So, I was thinking…” Jack’s voice dropped a little, a teasing edge creeping in. “What if we make this official? You know, like, ‘dating’ officially. I mean, we’ve spent enough time together at this point, and I’m kind of starting to like you.”

You’d laughed at first, but when you heard the sincerity in his voice, you felt that flutter in your chest.

“I think I could be okay with that,” you’d said softly, feeling something in your heart shift.

And just like that, what had started as a casual meeting at a community skate turned into something real, something deep. The spark between you two grew into a full-blown flame, one that, despite the distance and the challenges ahead, seemed unstoppable.

That was how it all began. From a community skate to something much bigger. And for the first time in a long time, you felt like you weren’t just fighting for your place in the game—you were fighting for something real, with someone who understood and shared your passion for both hockey and life.

It had been a few months since you and Jack had officially started dating, and even though the connection between you two had only deepened over time, the long-distance nature of your relationship had taken its toll. Jack was a rising star in the NHL, and your team’s season in the Women’s Hockey League was just as intense, if not more so. So, when Jack had to leave for a week-long stretch of West Coast games, the distance felt particularly harsh. But you both had your routines, and you had become experts at making the most of what time you had together.

The first night Jack was gone, you walked through your shared apartment, the silence of the space more apparent than usual. You had been here before, used to being away from each other for stretches of time, but it didn’t make the loneliness any easier. Still, you had your own games to focus on, so you pushed aside the feeling and settled into your familiar routine of stretching, preparing, and strategizing for your upcoming match.

That week, your team was on a roll. You managed to secure comfortable victories in your first two games, and no matter the late hours or time zone difference, you made sure to FaceTime Jack after each of your games. His voice was always a small anchor that pulled you back into a sense of normalcy. His tired face would appear on the screen, grinning with excitement or offering words of encouragement as you recapped your performances. The calls were a lifeline, a reminder that even though the miles between you stretched across the country, you weren’t alone in this. You’d FaceTime on his days off, too, taking solace in the familiarity of his presence, even if it was only a screen away.

But it was that third game that shook everything.

You had been feeling sharp and focused, your team’s momentum riding high. You were confident going into the match, your movements on the ice instinctively flowing with each pass and play. The puck was on your stick as you skated into the offensive zone, eyes locked on the net ahead, the crowd’s roars swelling around you. But just as you prepared to make your move, you felt a brutal shove from your side. The force was unanticipated, and before you could brace yourself, you were sent spiraling off balance.

The hit slammed into your leg, pain shooting through your entire body like a bolt of electricity. Your vision flashed white for a moment, the rink around you spinning as you crumpled to the ice, unable to register anything other than the excruciating ache in your lower body. You could hear voices, distant and muffled, but you couldn’t focus on anything but the raw agony. Your leg felt like it was on fire, every inch of it screaming at you in ways you didn’t think possible.

The next few moments were a blur. You were helped off the ice, each movement sending shocks of pain through your leg as your teammates rushed to your side. You were placed in an ice bath to try to numb the swelling, but it was clear from the first glance—the leg wasn’t just bruised. It was broken.

At the hospital, the diagnosis hit like a hammer to the chest. You had multiple fractures in your leg—some clean breaks, some more complicated. Surgery was the only option, and it needed to be done as soon as possible. You were too overwhelmed to process anything. The pain was all-consuming, and the physical shock of it was enough to dull your thoughts. The one thing that kept repeating in your mind, though, was that you hadn’t messaged Jack. You had forgotten. You had promised him you’d let him know if anything happened, but now, you couldn’t even remember if you had the energy to tell him.

You were rushed into surgery, the doctors prepping you quickly for the procedure, but you couldn’t shake the guilt of not reaching out to him. When you fell unconscious from the anesthesia, your thoughts faded, but that nagging feeling remained.

Meanwhile, in California, Jack had just finished his game. He had played well—scoring a goal and getting an assist—but his mind was elsewhere. His phone buzzed as he walked into the locker room to cool down. As he picked it up, his heart stopped for a second. It was a video message from one of his friends, a clip from the game he had just missed. It was you.

The footage was grainy, taken from the stands. He saw the hit happen in real-time, the moment when your body was slammed to the ice. And then, the terrible sight of you crumpling, unable to move as pain clearly overtook you. His breath caught in his throat, and panic surged through his chest.

Without thinking, he immediately called your number, but it went straight to voicemail. His hands were shaking now, his mind racing with worry. Why hasn’t she answered? He called again, and again, his anxiety growing with each unanswered ring.

“Come on, come on,” he muttered to himself, growing frantic. He tried texting you, then calling your teammates and coaches, but no one picked up. The seconds seemed to stretch into hours as he dialed number after number, panic creeping up his spine.

Finally, one of your coaches picked up. The calm, steady voice on the other end didn’t help to alleviate Jack’s mounting panic.

“Coach, what happened to her?” Jack’s voice was tight, strained. “Is she okay? Why isn’t she answering? What happened? I saw the hit—she looked… she looked like she was in so much pain!”

Your coach’s voice was reassuring but firm. “Jack, calm down. She’s in surgery right now. She fractured her leg pretty badly. The doctors are taking care of her. They’re going to monitor her recovery closely. But she’s going to be okay.”

He froze, his heart still pounding. “Surgery? Is she awake? Can I talk to her? I need to talk to her.”

“She’s still under, Jack. They’re finishing up. She’ll be okay. You can’t be here right now, and I know that’s hard. But she’s in good hands.”

Jack closed his eyes for a moment, trying to steady himself. “How long is she going to be in the hospital?”

“At least a couple weeks. They’ll want to monitor her closely to make sure everything heals properly.”

The words barely registered at first, but Jack’s mind finally began to slow, even as frustration and helplessness gnawed at him. He had a whole week of games ahead. There was no way he could be by her side—he would have to wait. And the thought of being this far away from her, with nothing but the distance and his uncertainty, felt unbearable.

After the call ended, Jack sat in silence for a long moment, trying to collect himself. He wasn’t sure how he would make it through the next few days, but he knew one thing for sure—he couldn’t just sit there and do nothing. He would call her every day. He would check in, even if it was through a screen, and he would make sure she knew he was there for her, even if he couldn’t be there physically.

Hours after the surgery, you began to stir, the soft beeping of machines pulling you from the thick haze of anesthesia. Your body felt heavy, your head foggy, and the ache in your leg was muted but persistent, a constant reminder of what had happened. Blinking against the harsh fluorescent lights, you slowly registered your surroundings—the sterile white hospital room, the IV taped to your arm, and the faint murmur of voices outside the door. Everything felt surreal, like you were caught between waking and dreaming.

The door creaked open, and your coach stepped inside. She offered a soft smile, her familiar presence grounding you amidst the disorientation. “Welcome back, kid,” she said gently, pulling up a chair beside your bed. “How are you feeling?”

You managed a weak laugh, though it sounded more like a croak. “Like I got hit by a truck,” you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper.

“That’s about right,” your coach replied, crossing her arms. “But the surgery went well. They said you’ll be back on your feet eventually—it’s just going to take some time.”

You nodded slowly, letting the information sink in. The details of the injury and the hit felt blurry, distant, as if they belonged to someone else. What you did remember, however, was the pressing need to call Jack. You opened your mouth to ask about him, but your coach beat you to it.

“Your boyfriend,” she said with a knowing smirk, “has been losing his mind. He’s been calling non-stop since he found out. I had to take one of his calls during your surgery just to calm him down. I don’t think I’ve ever heard someone freak out that much in my life.”

Despite the lingering grogginess, you chuckled softly, though the motion tugged at your sore muscles. “Did I… Did I at least tell him I’m okay before I went under?” you asked, your voice cracking slightly.

“Not a chance,” she said, shaking her head. “You were out cold before you could even grab your phone. But don’t worry—he knows you made it through the surgery. Barely, though. The poor guy sounded like he was about to hop on a plane mid-road trip.”

You smiled faintly at the image of Jack pacing in some hotel room, his phone glued to his ear as he pestered anyone who would answer. Your heart ached at the thought of how worried he must have been. You motioned weakly toward the bedside table, where your phone sat, its screen dark but promising missed calls and messages. “Can you hand me that?” you asked.

Your coach retrieved the phone and placed it in your trembling hands. As you fumbled with the screen, your fingers clumsy and unsteady, you saw the barrage of missed calls and texts from Jack. Over a dozen calls, countless messages—all timestamped from the moment he must have seen the hit. Swallowing hard, you tapped his name and brought the phone to your ear.

It barely rang once before his voice burst through the line. “Hey!” Jack’s tone was frantic, a mix of relief and worry. “Are you okay? Are you in pain? Is there someone there with you? Do you need something? God, I should’ve been there—I should’ve been with you—”

“Jack,” you interrupted softly, but he didn’t stop.

“I saw the clip. I saw it. That hit—it looked so bad. You just went down, and I—God, I felt like my heart stopped. I’ve been calling everyone, and no one was picking up, and then your coach finally called me back and said you were in surgery. Surgery! I should’ve been there—”

“Jack,” you said again, more firmly this time, though your voice was still weak. His words slowed, but the panic in his tone was still evident. “I’m okay,” you assured him, even as your own voice wavered. “The surgery went well. I’m sore, but I’ll be alright. I promise.”

There was a long pause on the other end of the line, the silence filled with his uneven breathing. “You’re sure?” he asked finally, his voice quieter but still laced with worry. “You’re really okay?”

“I���m sure,” you said, your lips curling into a faint smile. “They said I’ll make a full recovery. It’s going to take a while, but I’m okay, Jack. You don’t have to worry.”

His sigh of relief was audible, but it was short-lived. “How could I not worry?” he said, his voice rising again. “I saw the hit, and then I didn’t hear from you, and I was stuck here, a thousand miles away, with no idea if you were okay or if you were—” He stopped himself, his voice breaking. “I hate this. I hate that I’m not there with you.”

The raw frustration in his voice was enough to bring tears to your eyes. “It’s just hockey,” you said softly, trying to reassure him. “Stuff like this happens. It’s part of the game.”

“Not to you,” he snapped, the sharpness of his words catching you off guard. “It can happen to anyone else, but not you. You’re the last person I want to see getting hurt, and now you’re stuck in a hospital bed, and I can’t even be there to hold your hand.”

“Jack,” you whispered, but he was on a roll now, his frustration spilling over.

“I can’t believe this stupid schedule,” he muttered. “I should be on the next flight home. Screw the games. They can deal without me for one night—”

“You can’t do that,” you said quickly, your voice firmer this time. “Jack, I need you to focus on your games. I’ll be fine. You’ll see me soon enough.”

He sighed again, the sound heavy with reluctance. “I just… I feel so helpless,” he admitted. “You’re hurt, and I can’t do anything about it.”

“You’re doing plenty,” you told him gently. “Just hearing your voice right now is enough.”

The conversation eventually calmed, though Jack’s worry never fully faded. He promised to call every day—and he did. Over the next week, he became your lifeline.

The first night after your surgery, Jack called you just as he promised he would. The moment your phone buzzed with his name on the screen, a sense of comfort washed over you. You answered immediately, his face appearing on the screen before you could even get out a greeting.

“Hey,” he said, his voice soft but still edged with worry. His hair was damp from a post-game shower, and you could see the dark circles under his eyes. “How are you feeling?”

“Tired,” you admitted, shifting slightly against the pillows propping you up. Your leg throbbed dully beneath the cast, but seeing Jack’s face helped dull the ache. “Sore, but okay.”

“You look pale,” he noted, his brows furrowing as his eyes scanned the screen, like he could physically assess you through it. “Are you sure you’re okay? Have you been eating? What about water—have you been drinking enough?”

“Jack,” you interrupted gently, your lips quirking into a faint smile. “I’m fine. They’ve been taking care of me here, and the doctors said the surgery went well. You don’t have to worry so much.”

His sigh was audible even through the small speaker of your phone. “How can I not worry? I hate that I’m stuck here while you’re dealing with all of this alone.”

“You’re not stuck. You’re doing your job,” you reminded him. “And I’m not alone. My team’s been in and out, and the nurses here are great.”

“It’s not the same,” he muttered, his tone low. “I should be there.”

You reached up and adjusted the angle of your phone, so he could see your reassuring smile. “You’re here, Jack. Maybe not physically, but this? These calls? They help more than you know.”

His face softened slightly, though the worry in his eyes didn’t entirely disappear. “I just wish I could do more.”

“You’re doing plenty,” you said firmly. “Now, tell me about your game. How’d it go?”

Jack hesitated for a moment, but when you raised an expectant eyebrow, he relented. “It went alright. We won, but it was closer than it should’ve been. I missed an open net in the second period, and the guys gave me hell for it.”

“Missed an open net?” you teased, your tone light. “Wow, Jack Hughes is human after all.”

He groaned, though you caught the faint smile tugging at his lips. “Yeah, yeah, laugh it up. I’ll make up for it next game.”

“I’m sure you will,” you said with a grin. “You always do.”

The conversation shifted after that, Jack asking about your day in the hospital. He wanted to know everything—what you ate, what the doctors said, how much pain you were in. His questions were relentless, but you didn’t mind. If anything, it warmed your heart to know how much he cared. By the time the call ended, your eyelids were heavy with exhaustion, but the lingering sound of Jack’s voice in your mind made falling asleep a little easier.

The calls became your anchor over the next week. Every night, without fail, Jack would call you after his game, no matter how late it was. Some nights, he’d FaceTime you, propping his phone up on a stack of pillows in his hotel room while he lounged on the bed in sweats and a hoodie. Other nights, he’d call you during his downtime at the rink, his voice echoing faintly in the empty locker room as he checked in on you.

On the third night, after another win for his team, Jack’s call came through just after midnight. You answered groggily, your phone resting on your chest as you blinked sleepily at his face.

“Sorry, did I wake you?” he asked, his voice soft with concern.

“No, it’s okay,” you murmured, shifting slightly to prop yourself up against the pillows. “How was the game?”

“Good,” he said, though his expression was a little sheepish. “I scored a goal, but I got into it with a guy on the other team. He cross-checked me, and I might’ve, uh, shoved him a little.”

“Jack,” you said, narrowing your eyes at him playfully. “You can’t get yourself hurt. One of us in the hospital is enough.”

He chuckled, the sound warm and familiar. “Don’t worry, I can take a hit. But seriously, how are you feeling? Is the pain manageable? Do you need me to call someone for you?”

You shook your head, smiling at his endless concern. “I’m fine, Jack. They’ve got me on some good meds, so I’m not feeling much pain right now.”

“Good,” he said, though his gaze lingered on you for a moment, as if trying to detect any hidden discomfort. “Tell me if that changes, okay? If you need anything—anything at all—you call me.”

“Jack, you’re on the other side of the country,” you pointed out, your tone teasing. “What could you possibly do from there?”

“Plenty,” he said stubbornly. “I could call your coach. Or your doctor. Or the president, if I have to.”

You laughed, the sound soft but genuine. “I don’t think the president can help with a broken leg, Jack.”

“Then I’ll find someone who can,” he shot back, grinning. “I’m serious, though. Just tell me if you need anything.”

“All I need is for you to win some games,” you teased, your voice light. “That’s all the help I need.”

Jack rolled his eyes, but you could see the small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “You’re impossible, you know that?”

“Yeah,” you said, smiling back. “But you love me anyway.”

By the end of the week, the calls felt like second nature. Jack would update you on his games, sharing every detail with the enthusiasm of someone desperate to distract himself from his own worries. In turn, you’d tell him about the progress you were making in the hospital, even if it was slow. You joked about how the nurses were starting to recognize him just from the sound of his voice, and he teased you about how bossy you were getting with your requests for snacks and drinks.

Through it all, Jack’s constant presence—whether through a screen or a phone call—was what kept you going. And even though he couldn’t be there in person, he made you feel as though he was never truly far away.

Finally, after what felt like the longest week of your life, the day finally arrived when Jack’s West Coast road trip came to an end. He had called you every day, just like he’d promised, but it wasn’t the same as having him by your side. Through the screen, you could see the worry etched into his face and hear it in the tone of his voice. He hated being so far away from you, and every conversation ended with him muttering how much he wished he could teleport home.

The waiting had been agonizing for both of you. Jack barely slept, the guilt of not being able to be there gnawing at him, and you had spent your days in the hospital, frustrated by your immobility and longing for his comforting presence. So when you finally got the text that he had landed and was on his way, the anticipation became almost unbearable.

You sat up in the hospital bed, your leg propped up in a brace and wrapped in layers of bandages, staring at the door like a puppy waiting for its owner to return. You heard the sound of hurried footsteps in the hallway, and then the door swung open.

“Jack,” you breathed, and there he was.

He looked exhausted. His hair was messy from the flight, his eyes shadowed from lack of sleep, but the relief on his face was so palpable it nearly brought tears to your eyes. He crossed the room in three long strides, not even bothering to set his bag down before he wrapped you in the gentlest hug he could manage. His arms circled you carefully, mindful of your injuries, but the embrace was so full of love that it made your chest ache.

“You’re okay,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion as he pulled back just enough to cup your face in his hands. “God, I was so scared. Watching that hit… hearing you were in surgery… I didn’t know what to do. I felt so useless.”

You could see the guilt swimming in his eyes, and you shook your head, resting your hand on top of his. “Jack, you’re here now. That’s all that matters.”

“I should’ve been here sooner,” he said, his voice breaking slightly. “I hate that I wasn’t here when you needed me most.”

“Stop,” you said softly, your fingers brushing against his wrist. “You did everything you could. You called, you checked in—Jack, I knew you were with me, even if you weren’t here physically.”

For a moment, he just stared at you, his emotions flickering across his face like a storm. Then he leaned forward, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. “I’m here now,” he murmured, as though saying it aloud made it more real. “And I’m not leaving until you’re back on your feet.”

The first day of Jack’s visit was spent catching up—he pulled a chair close to your bed, his fingers intertwined with yours as he asked about every detail of the surgery and recovery process. He flinched when you described the pain of the initial hit and visibly winced when you told him about waking up after the surgery. His worry was written all over him, and it didn’t fade even when you assured him that you were healing.

But he didn’t just stop at sitting by your side. By the next day, Jack had transformed into a one-man care team. He brought you your favorite coffee every morning, carefully maneuvering around the hospital room as though he’d been doing it for years. He kept your water bottle full, adjusted your pillows to make sure you were comfortable, and even insisted on helping you wash your hair when you mentioned you felt gross from lying in bed for so long.

“Jack, you don’t have to do all this,” you said one evening as he helped you shift positions, your leg still immobilized in the brace. “You just got back from a road trip. You should be resting, not waiting on me hand and foot.”

He scoffed, his hands steady as he fluffed your pillows. “Resting? What kind of boyfriend would I be if I wasn’t here taking care of you?”

“A tired one?” you offered, raising an eyebrow.

He smirked, but his expression softened as he leaned down to kiss your temple. “I’m exactly where I need to be. Don’t fight me on this—I’m taking care of you whether you like it or not.”

And he meant it. Jack spent every moment he wasn’t at practice by your side, helping you with the little things that had become impossible with your injury. When you were finally discharged and sent home, Jack took charge of setting up the apartment to accommodate your limited mobility. He rearranged furniture, set up a cozy corner on the couch where you could elevate your leg, and made sure your favorite snacks were within reach.

At night, when the pain was at its worst and sleep felt impossible, Jack was there. He’d sit beside you, his hand resting on your arm as he talked you through the discomfort. Sometimes he’d read to you, his voice low and soothing, and other times he’d just sit quietly, his presence enough to calm your racing thoughts.

One evening, as you lay curled up on the couch with your leg propped up on a stack of pillows, Jack sat beside you with a bag of takeout from your favorite restaurant. The smell of your favorite dish filled the room, and you smiled up at him, your heart swelling with gratitude.

“You’re kind of amazing, you know that?” you said, watching as he carefully plated the food for you.

He looked up, his face flushing slightly. “I’m just doing what anyone would do.”

“Not everyone would fly across the country after an exhausting road trip and spend every waking moment taking care of their injured girlfriend,” you pointed out. “You’ve been… incredible, Jack. I don’t know how I would’ve gotten through this without you.”

His eyes softened, and he leaned down to kiss you, his lips lingering against yours as though he was trying to convey everything he couldn’t say. “You don’t have to go through anything alone,” he murmured. “Not as long as I’m here.”

In the weeks that followed, Jack became your rock. He helped you through the frustration of physical therapy, cheered you on as you regained strength, and reminded you every day that you were stronger than you thought. And though the road to recovery was long and grueling, the love and support Jack gave you made it feel a little less daunting.

As you sat together one evening, your head resting on his shoulder and your cast resting across his lap, you realized something profound: this injury, as difficult as it had been, had only brought you closer. Jack’s unwavering dedication had proven, without a doubt, that he was in this for the long haul. And with him by your side, you knew you could face anything.

[sunseed-fandump]

The Tarot from the new trailer has me FLIPPING OUT (Sorry for the shitty screenshot) I was already making an analysis on the previous cards we got, but THIS has really got me doing backflips in my head because of the implications.

Let me explain.

First off, have you noticed that one of these cards is not like the others?

The first card, Strawberry Cookie, is in reverse. She is on the major arcana card XII - The Hanged Man. When the Hanged Man is in Reverse, it represents Delays, resistance, stalling, indecision, stagnation.

"The upright Hanged Man encourages you to pause for a moment and see things from a different perspective. Reversed, this card can show that you know you need to hit the pause button, but you are resisting it. Instead, you fill your days with tasks and projects, keeping busy and distracting yourself from the actual issue that needs your attention. Your spirit and body are asking you to slow down, but your mind keeps racing. Stop and rest before it’s too late. The Universe will only dial up the volume if you ignore it, and as a result, you may end up crashing. So, as soon as you hear the call, clear your schedule and make the space so you can tune in and listen."

Next we move on to Gingerbrave's card: 0 - The Fool.

In the Upright Position, the Fool represents new beginnings, innocence, spontaneity, a free spirit, and adventure.

"To see the The Fool generally means a beginning of a new journey, one where you will be filled with optimism and freedom from the usual constraints in life. When we meet him, he approaches each day as an adventure, in an almost childish way. He believes that anything can happen in life and there are many opportunities that are lying out there, in the world, waiting to be explored and developed. He leads a simple life, having no worries, and does not seem troubled by the fact that he cannot tell what he will encounter ahead."

Finally we have Wizard Cookie's card: I - The Magician.

In the Upright position, the Magician symbolizes logic, desire, resourcefulness, willpower, intelligence, skill, and manifestation.

"When you get the Magician in your reading, it might mean that it's time to tap into your full potential without hesitation. As a master manifestor, The Magician brings you the tools, resources and energy you need to make your dreams come true. Now is the perfect time to move forward on an idea that you recently conceived. The seed of potential has sprouted, and you are being called to take action and bring your intention to fruition. The skills, knowledge and capabilities you have gathered along your life path have led you to where you are now, and whether or not you know it, you are ready to turn your ideas into reality."

So what do these 3 cards mean together? Well, we have someone who is stagnating, who is stuck and unable to move forward. But they go through a rebirth - an epiphany - and start on the path of a new journey. And on that new path they unlock their full potential.

This is Pure Vanilla Cookie's story in the next update in a nutshell!

Sorry for the sorta long post, i just wanted to geek out about this since I love love love it when Tarot is used as a narrative device :)

[cressidagrey]

The Queen of Romantasy and the Race Car Prince - Chapter 5

Pairing: Lando Norris x Elizabeth "Lizzie" Treshton (Original Character)

Summary:

Elizabeth Treshton—bestselling romantasy author, queen of fae heartbreak, and sworn devotee of a carefully structured routine—never expected her service dog to abandon protocol and diagnose a Formula 1 driver with something. But that’s exactly what happens when Mara the wonder-dog ditches Lizzie’s side to aggressively alert to none other than Lando Norris in the middle of a coffee shop.

Warnings and Notes: 

Mention of epilepsy, seizures, memory loss, hospitals and service animals. I don't myself suffer from epilepsy, so I asked my IRL friend, who thankfully was nice enough to let me ask her all the questions I could come up with. The rest I asked Reddit. So everything that's wrong...that's totally my fault and not on purpose.

As always big thanks to @llirawolf , who listens to me ramble

Lando woke up feeling like absolute shit.

His head was pounding, his mouth was drier than the desert, and judging by the fact that he’s still half-dressed and tangled in a celebratory McLaren flag, last night must have been good.

He groaned, scrubbing his hands over his face. He remembered fragments of the night before - flashes of bright lights, loud music, and way too much drinking.

He had won.

Lando Norris was a Formula 1 Grand Prix Winner.

He had been nearly drowned in champagne by Max Verstappen and Charles Leclerc.

He had won the 2024 Miami Grandprix.

Lando let out a sigh and gingerly pushed himself up into a sitting position, clutching his head as a sharp pain shot through his temples.

He fumbled for his phone, cringing at the notifications that had piled up overnight. Messages from friends, family, and the racing world congratulating him on his victory.

He blinked blearily at his phone.

Too early. Too bright. Too… too.

But there’s one thing he needs to do before he even considers getting up.

He scrolled through his notifications, heart sinking when he still doesn’t see Lizzie’s name.

But there’s nothing.

His fingers fumble as he types out another message.

Lando: Hey, just checking in. Are you okay? You didn’t answer last night. I was a bit… not in the best state, but I was really hoping to hear from you.

Lando: I’m just worried. Is everything alright? I know I was probably being a bit much last night, but you can always just let me know if you need space or whatever. I just want to make sure you’re good.

Nothing.

Lando stared at his phone, the pit in his stomach growing deeper with each passing second. He didn't understand why Lizzie hadn't responded, and the not knowing was driving him crazy.

He groaned, running a hand down his face.

He tried calling. Straight to voicemail.

His stomach twists.

Lando didn't want to jump to conclusions, but he couldn't shake the feeling that something was off. Lizzie was usually pretty good about replying to his messages.

He tried texting again.

Lando: Look, I get it if you need time. I don’t want to come off too strong. I just feel like I should've heard from you by now, and I’m starting to panic a bit. Just a quick text would help me breathe for a second, you know?

Lando stared at his phone, watching the time tick by with agonizing slowness. He'd been awake for nearly an hour now, and Lizzie hadn't responded to any of his messages.

He tried calling again, only to be met with the same response - straight to voicemail...again.

And then his phone pinged.

Lizzie: Hi, this is Lizzie’s father. She’s in the hospital. Multiple seizures. She’s woken up a few times, but she’s not very responsive. I don’t know who you are, but judging by the way she’s saved your contact as ‘Lando Not Dying Yet Norris,’ I assume you’re important enough to be told.

Lando blinks. Stares. His hangover vanishes instantly.

She’s at the Royal Sussex Hospital. Thought I’d tell you in case you want to show up to visit her.

Lando feels like all the air has been sucked from the room.

Hospital. Seizures. Not responsive.

He doesn’t even realize he’s shaking until he fumbles trying to type back.

Lando: I—fuck. Is she okay? What happened?

Three little dots appear, then vanish. Then appear again.

Lizzie: She’s stable. But it was bad.

Lando pushes back the covers, already moving, already grabbing for his McLaren hoodie like that will somehow help him fix this.

He needs to be there.

Now.

His hands are unsteady as he opens his flight app. The next available flight back to London is in four hours.

Not soon enough.

Lando: I’m coming back to the UK. I’ll be there as soon as I can.

There’s no reply, but Lando doesn’t care. His heart is hammering, his mind racing, and there’s only one thing he knows for sure—

He has to get to Lizzie.

He…

There was a knock at the door.

Lando jumped, his already frayed nerves on edge. "Who is it?" he called out, his voice cracking slightly.

“It’s Oscar.”

Lando sagged with relief as he recognized the Australian accent drifting through the door. “Come in.”

The door creaked open and Oscar Piastri poked his head into the room. His eyes widened when he saw Lando’s harried expression. “Mate, you alright? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

Lando shook his head, feeling the tension in his shoulders tighten even more. "No, not alright. Lizzie’s in the hospital. Multiple seizures."

Oscar’s expression immediately darkened. "What the hell? Multiple seizures? How is she doing now?”

“Not good, apparently. Her dad said she’s stable, but she’s not very responsive. I’m flying back to London to see her.” Lando ran a hand through his disheveled hair, his heart still racing with worry.

“God damn.” Oscar stepped fully into the room, closing the door behind him. He studied Lando’s face for a moment, his eyes narrowing. “You’re a mess, mate. Have you eaten anything?”

Lando shook his head, the thought of food making his stomach churn. "No, I haven't even had a chance to think about food. I’m just freaking out, mate. I’ve never seen her have a seizure, let alone multiple seizures…She had one last week before we had dinner, but she seemed fine, just tired… I have no idea how bad it’s going to be. This is...this is so messed up."

Oscar nodded sympathetically, his expression still grave. "Go," he said simply. "I'll make your apologies to Zac and the team."

Lando nodded numbly, already moving to pack a bag. Oscar stopped him with a hand on his shoulder. "And mate? Try to keep calm. You won’t do Lizzie any good if you’re a wreck yourself."

Lando huffed out a breath. "I’ll try."

"Can you tell Max..." Lando trailed off. He had no idea what to even…

Oscar's expression softened. “I’ll tell Max. And the others. You just focus on getting to the hospital, alright?”

Lando nods, his throat suddenly feeling thick. "Yeah. Okay. Thanks, Oscar."

[cranberry-queen]

@vanlydmarso Sure! So here's a chapter of a book I'm working on. In it:

Voice-of-Reason: Mark

The Wild Card: Andre

The Observer: Tina

The Instigator: Lily

The Driver: Sam

Mark pushed his way into the house, the weight of a plastic bag dangling from his wrist. He barely had time to shut the door before Tina’s voice—sharp and fast—rang through the house. Spanish. Heated.

In the kitchen, between the fridge and the island, Tina stood with her arms crossed, her foot tapping in that deadly, rhythmic way she did when her patience ran thin. Andre stood opposite her, rubbing the back of his neck, his shoulders hunched like a kid caught with his hand in the cookie jar. Mark didn’t need to understand the words to know the fight’s cause: Andre’s latest bout of unemployment.

Mark swiftly averted his gaze. Tina was the only person in the house who had no problem dishing out scoldings when necessary, and he had no intention of getting dragged into the crossfire. He made a beeline for the counter, dropped Andre’s change into the battered “Council Jar,” and set the Coke beside it before hopping the two steps down into the sunken living area. Without a word, he dropped onto the couch beside Lily and extended his bag of Sparkles toward her.

She beamed at him, plucked a yellow one from the bag, and popped it into her mouth after unwrapping it. Her thumb scrolled idly through a social media feed on her phone screen, but her ears were tuned to the kitchen. Lily was the only one of the other housemates who understood any Spanish—badly, but enough.

“Andre lost his job again?” Mark asked, voice low.

“Yup,” Lily said, still chewing. “His bartending gig was supposed to make up for the fact that Tina switched to part-time at Woolworths.”

Mark frowned. He remembered when Tina had cut her hours at the clothing store, relieved to finally focus on finishing her degree. They’d even celebrated.

“What’s worse,” Lily added, her voice dropping, “is that her contract’s locked until the next hiring cycle.”

Mark exhaled sharply through his nose. That explained why Tina’s voice had taken on that sharp, clipped edge. He watched as Lily reached for another sweet but paused, her gaze unfocused.

“Tina…” she tilted her head, listening, “She’s giving him a week to find a new job or she’s renting his half of the basement to someone else. He’s trying to guilt-trip her, but she’s not having it.”

Mark rubbed the back of his head. He could spot them the rent, had done it before. But Tina would shut him down before he even finished the offer. She’d told him once, in that firm, no-nonsense way of hers: If you make allowances for one person, you have to do it for everyone. If Andre knew there was a safety net, he’d never get a job. Pride thing, maybe. But Mark cared too much about both of them to undermine that.

A familiar jingle at the front door made them both glance up. Sam.

Even though the door was always left unlocked during the day, she always used her key. Habit, she claimed. Six months wasn’t enough to break it.

The door swung open, and Sam waltzed in, a brightly colored box in her arms. She kicked the door shut behind her, her usual energy undeterred by the shouting match in the kitchen. Tina and Andre, caught mid-argument, paused long enough for Tina to sigh and give Sam an apologetic look.

“Sorry, guys. Give us a minute.” She grabbed Andre’s forearm and dragged him toward the basement door.

Once they were out of sight, Sam dropped the box onto the kitchen island with a grin.

Mark and Lily pushed off the couch, leaving the half-eaten bag of sweets and instant noodles behind. Sam saluted the faded photo of Mark’s parents on the fridge before popping the lid open.

“Since when is your manager this nice?” Lily asked as they settled onto the barstools.

“New manager,” Sam replied, filling the kettle. “Layla. She lets the closing staff take leftovers before they get tossed. Hates waste but doesn’t want upper management to sniff around.”

“She’s not worried someone will rat her out?” Mark snagged a chicken mayo sandwich.

Sam tossed a few crumpled receipts into the bin and dumped her spare change into the “Council Jar.” “And lose free food? Not a chance.”

“I’m not complaining,” Lily hummed around a chocolate jam doughnut.

Mark chuckled at her choice before nodding at Sam. “You actually make it to the lab on time this morning, or did you sweet-talk your way out of being late again?”

Sam rolled her eyes, stuffing a cinnamon bite into her mouth. “Made it. Barely. Professor Lennox would’ve lost it if I strolled in late again.”

“What are you even working on now? Thought you said it was some kinda cube?” Mark asked.

“An energy cube,” Sam corrected, setting their coffees in front of them. She took a seat. “It’s a self-sustaining generator. The casing works like a Faraday cage but channels electromagnetic energy into the core instead of just blocking it.”

“So it absorbs power?” Lily squinted, bracing for the answer to be wrong.

“Exactly. The core’s a supercapacitor, paired with what we call a ‘quantum resonance matrix.’ It stabilizes the absorbed energy, making it constant. Once powered, it emits a localized field that wirelessly powers electronics. Like Wi-Fi, but for electricity.”

“So, my phone would charge just by being near it?” Mark folded his arms, intrigued.

“Yup.” Sam’s face lit up. “No wires, no batteries. Just this little cube in the corner of the room.”

Lily arched a brow. “That sounds terrifying. What’s stopping it from frying everything?”

“That’s what we’re figuring out.” Sam shrugged. “We gotta break a few devices to get it right.”

Mark smirked. “So it’s either a game-changer or a phone-melter.”

“Exactly.”

“Yeah, I’m good,” Lily muttered, sipping her coffee.

Sam grinned and reached into her bag, pulling out a cube the size of a coffee mug. “This one’s defective. Too small for the prototype, so I gotta toss it tomorrow.”

Lily reached out but yelped the second her fingers brushed it, dropping it straight into her coffee.

Mark swore and fished it out with a dish towel, his whole body jolting from the shock. Every cell in his body felt awake.

Sam frowned, brushing off Lily’s frantic apologies. “Weird. It shouldn’t have done that—”

Before she could finish, Andre and Tina reappeared.

“What’s that?” Andre snatched the cube before Sam could stop him. He held it up, studying it—then winced, hand jerking back. “Ow—what the hell?”

“Give it back.” Sam reached for it.

Andre smirked and pulled it just out of her reach. “Relax, Doc, I’m just—ow! Damn thing shocked me.”

Tina sighed, smacked him upside the head, and took the cube. The second it touched her palm, she yelped and dropped it.

Sam caught it mid-air and stuffed it back into her bag. “Right. No one touch the shiny, defective, probably-shouldn’t-be-here cube.”

Tina gave her a long look before grabbing her coffee and sitting down. Andre followed suit, still shaking out his hand.

Sam grinned at them. “So, dinner’s on me?”

Tips from a Beta Reading Writer

This one's for the scenes with multiple characters, and you're not sure how to keep everyone involved.

Writing group scenes is chaos. Someone’s talking, someone’s interrupting, someone’s zoning out thinking about breadsticks. And if you’re not careful, half your cast fades into the background like NPCs in a video game. I used to struggle with this so much—my characters would just exist in the scene without actually affecting it. But here’s what I've learned and have started implementing:

✨ Give everyone a job in the scene ✨

Not their literal job—like, not everyone needs to be solving a crime or casting spells. I mean: Why are they in this moment? What’s their role in the conversation?

My favourite examples are:

The Driver: Moves the convo forward. They have an agenda, they’re pushing the action.

The Instigator: Pokes the bear. Asks the messy questions. Stirring the pot like a chef on a mission.

The Voice of Reason: "Guys, maybe we don’t commit arson today?"

The Distracted One: Completely in their own world. Tuning out, doodling on a napkin, thinking about their ex.

The Observer: Not saying much, but noticing everything. (Quiet characters still have presence!)

The Wild Card: Who knows what they’ll do? Certainly not them. Probably about to make things worse.

If a character has no function, they’ll disappear. Give them something—even if it’s just a side comment, a reaction, or stealing fries off someone’s plate. Keep them interesting, and your readers will stay interested too.

[robertsfloyd]

his girl

an alpha that hadn't yet claimed you. your first time in the hard deck. his flirty superior. what could go wrong?

technically a part two to military issued, but it can be read as a standalone

Bradley Bradshaw was in love.

he held you close, nuzzled against your neck as you sat in his home. your home now, too, you supposed.

you didn't have a choice in the matter. when your first met, you were adamant you'd made the wrong choice in becoming a military omega. but Bradley's alpha scent was in your nose. his big, strong hands were on you, your brain melted.

you couldn't help it. your omega brain switched on, and you nuzzled against him, trying to get as much of his scent on you.

you wanted to drown in it, get drunk off of it. your alpha. your big, strong Alpha that you couldn't get enough of.

his lips nipped at your neck and you released a giggle. he hadn’t claimed you, yet, waiting for your heat. that was the proper way to do it, how the military wanted it done.

he now had a reason to come home.

***

it was weird, walking around with an Alpha that hadn't claimed you. you held his hand as he led you from the Bronco and into the bar.

the hard deck. a cute name, considering the little bit Bradley had told you about naval aviation. "ready?" he asked you, lifting your hand to his lips to kiss the back of it.

you swallowed the lump in your throat, but the way your moustache tickled your skin had you giggling. "ready," you answered.

meeting your alpha's friends was a big deal. even when you tried to pretend it wasn't, it was a big deal. his friends. the people he worked with. the people that would make sure he came back to you. his squad were important to him.

they were important to you, too, now.

this was something this should have waited until you were mated, until you had his claim on your neck and yours on his. but you were completely covered in his scent, and that was the next best thing.

the hard deck was a cacophony of shouts and jeers and music from the juke box. shouts of those trying to be louder than the jeers, jeers from the group playing darts. noises from the pool table too, cues hitting balls and balls hitting each other.

he led you through the hard deck, past the bar and over to a group of people in khakis. "hey, rooster!" one of them called as the two of you approached.

mostly alphas, you noted as you looked at them. two betas, no other mares in sight.

"guys, there's someone I want you to meet."

Bradley pulled you in front of him. his hands rested on your shoulders as he introduced you, gave his friends your name.

"hi," you said abd swallowed the uncomfortable feeling in your throat. too tight, lump in your throat too big.

shoving the pool cue into the hands of the spectacled man, the broad, brown haired an strode over. he looked tall, until he got close to Bradley.

beta, you realised once you breathed in.

"hangman," bradley mumbled, his moustache twitching as he pulled you closer. like he had anything to be worried about. you were well and truly his.

"who's this pretty little thing?" he asked, looking you up and down. a beta raised by alphas, you decided.

you patted your alphas chest. "this is Bradley," you said and smiled up at him. "he really is a pretty little thing, isn't he?"

red cheeked, hangman laughed at you. no, not at you. with you. "I'm jake," he said and held his hand out to you.

"nice to meet you, jake."

one by one, you met all of Bradley's friends. they were all lovely, but your favourite was natasha. she was maybe the second sexiest Alpha you had ever seen (behind Bradley, of course). not only that, but she was lovely. friendly, but she could easily hold her own. if they were a Pack, more than friends, she would have been their leader.

sat in Bradley’s lap, you listened as his friends told you stories. what they could of their time in the Navy. none of the horrible stuff, none of the traumatic things they had been through. instead, the moments they found themselves... enjoying.

no, enjoying wasn't the right word. but it allowed them to feel like they belonged.

as you listened, your glass became empty. you shook it, the ice cubes clinking together, before you drank them, too.

"I'm gonna get another," you said to Bradley and kissed his cheek.

he tightened his grip on you, not letting you off of his lap. "hey," he said quickly, his eyebrows raising.

rolling your eyes, you pressed a kiss to his lips. you pulled away, giggling as you made your way to the bar.

"same again?" the woman behind the bar asked.

"please," you said and she began making it for you.

you pulled your card from your purse, but someone placed their hand on top of yours, stopping you.

not Bradley, you would have recognised his scent immediately.

you looked up at the man, also in khakis. his dark hair was greying at the sides and there was something about his smile that put you off, like he wasn't used to the action. "I got it, darlin'," he said and opened his wallet.

you shook your head. "I'm good," you said and grabbed your card again. "thank you, though."

"c'mon, put it away," he said, trying to sound light. "a pretty 'mega like you shouldn't have to pay for your drinks."

a smile split across your face. "you're right," you said and tucked your card back into your purse. "lemme go and get my Alpha real quick."

you made your way back over to Bradley, grabbed his hand and pulled him to his feet. "what're you doing, angel?" he asked, hands on your waist, pulling you into him.

he looked at the man beside you. "cyclone."

he fucking knew him!

oh, this was too good.

cyclone cleared his throat. "Rooster," he said as Bradley pulled out his wallet.

"have you met my Omega yet?" he asked, paying for your drink. you sipped it, practically glowing as your alpha protectively stood up for you.

he leaned down and kissed your exposed shoulder. "go sit down, Angel," he whispered and sent you on your way. you went willingly, sitting beside Nat and watching as Bradley spoke with cyclone.

"I didn't know he knew him," you muttered and sipped some more of your fruity cocktail drink.

natasha released a laugh. "knew him? that's our superior."

your mouth dropped open. your alpha. sticking up for you. in front of his superior.

you were so in love.

I'd loooove some more abo/hybrid!au top gun requests!

[greenwitchfromthewoods]

back to life. l Joel Miller

Summary: an attempt to return to normality

Warnings: angst, a little bit of smut (+18), lots of bad emotions, tw: depressive episode; Tommy, Maria and Ellie; violence

A/N: it's a hard time for me. but I found a moment to write this. sorry that I'm still stuck in this series, it's comfortable for me

your feedback is very important to me and I thank you for all the reblogs, comments and likes. 🖤 sorry for all the mistakes

short stories from life. [masterlist]

The next few days were really hard. Joel felt like every cell in his body was hurting him, even though it was you who had been through so much. The wounds were healing, the bruises were fading, but you were quieter and less visible. If it weren't for his willingness for you to take a bath, which Joel thought was the best thing for you, you wouldn't have gotten out of bed at all.

But Joel experienced something else during that time. In addition to fear for you, he encountered incredible human kindness and empathy. The people of Jackson seemed moved by what had happened. Soon, when Joel was on his way to the clinic about his collarbone, an older man who owned a bakery pressed a fresh loaf of bread into his hands and said with a smile that it was for you. 

Mrs. Russo appeared at the door the next evening, bringing with her a few of your favorite dishes. "I guess you don't have the head for cooking now. Take this, she's been enjoying it so much lately!"

Rory and his mother also showed up, and the boy handed Joel a bouquet of the first spring flowers, which he placed next to your bed. The small smile on your lips was worth everything.

Almost every afternoon, Ellie would sit with you, telling you that she absolutely needed help with her homework. Joel thought she was exaggerating and that she certainly didn't have that much to study for, but you were starting to get involved. Evenings were for the two of you, though.

Sometimes Joel would play something on the guitar, feeling your eyes follow his fingers as they struck the strings. He hadn't done it in years, but for you he'd pulled from his memory many of the songs he knew. Or he'd read books aloud. His warm, low voice carried through the bedroom, and you'd listen, clearly soothed by the sound.

Your bubble had to stretch, though, and it happened one evening. Joel came back later than usual, and then he convinced you to go downstairs. He led you out to the terrace and showed you something he had made for you. A wooden bench, very carefully crafted, with ornate armrests and fancy decoration. He had been working on it for a long time.

"It's so beautiful outside. I thought you might like to have your own place." he said, a little worried when he saw the tears in your eyes and your trembling lips. "You can spend time here, bask in the sun, read if you want."

"Nobody has ever done anything just for me." you said quietly.

And before he knew it, you kissed him, so truly. He hadn't felt the real you in a kiss for a long time, and now you were with him. In his strong arms, you were like a fragile creature, but Joel felt happy that you had achieved so much together. He believed that everything would be fine.

From then on, everything slowly began to change. You spent more time outside, and sometimes you went with him to the stables to take care of the horses. After a few days, Tommy and Maria invited you for dinner, and you showed up there too. When the dance was in Jackson, you went together, although you seemed hesitant about it, but Joel managed to talk you into a few slow dances with him.

"I want to take her out of Jackson," Joel stated when he and Tommy met up at the Tipsy Bison for a drink one day, "Just one day. We'll take the easy way out."

Tommy nodded, "It would do her good. Can she handle it?"

"She's tougher than we think. I can see she needs to get outside of those walls, even though she's still scared."

"And you're going to let her?" Tommy shook his head in disbelief, "What did she do to you, bro?"

"I miss her, you know... She's physically there, we sleep in the same bed, we eat together, we live together. But she..."

"I can see it in her eyes. What happened to her changed her... It would change anyone."

Joel took a sip from his glass. He didn't want to tell his brother that you hadn't slept together since then. No, Joel wasn't complaining. Your relationship had never been just about sex. But he still didn't know if he would scare you if he initiated it. You were sensitive and delicate, and although he knew you loved him, you didn't take that step yourself.

That day the weather was beautiful. The spring sun settled in the sky, and the forest and the surrounding area were beautifully green. You walked together, close to each other. 

Joel told you what had changed in the area recently, that the attic in the permanent barn on the other side of Jackson had caved in, or that he had seen a family of foxes sneaking past the camp during a patrol. He spoke as if you had been sick for a week, not completely cut off from life for almost a month.

You felt good, especially since he was next to you, and the care and tenderness towards you emanated from him. You wanted to go back to him, completely, but you weren't sure how to do it. Every day, every attempt, cost you a lot of strength. Guilts of conscience were churning inside you.

"I'm sorry, Joel." You finally said when you stopped at the edge of the forest.

Joel looked at the horizon, trying to see if the area was still safe for you, and turned around, surprised.

"What are you apologizing for, darling?" he asked, taking a step towards you.

You seemed so small to him, as if many things were pressing you to the ground at once, and you were barely able to stay on two legs. You looked at him as if you were about to cry.

"For everything." you finally answered "For having to take care of me. For every day that is so hard for you. I wish things were like they used to be... I don't know if I can. Maybe... Maybe..."

"Don't do that." he interrupted you, approaching you and taking your face in his hands "Stop here. What happened to us, what happened to you, is neither of our fault. But we'll deal with it, right?"

"How? I thought I was strong, but this..." you closed your eyes, and tears flowed from under your eyelashes. Joel patiently wiped them away with his thumbs "I keep wondering... Every shadow, every rustle makes me tremble. I've become nothing but a problem for each of you."

His strong arms wrapped around you and pulled you tightly to his chest. You snuggled into Joel with all your might. His arms were your shelter, the beating of his heart soothed yours. If it weren't for him, you would have fallen to pieces a long time ago.

"You don't even know, silly, how many people care about you and want to help you. They ask about you every day. You're not the problem, but you can't be strong all the time either. Believe me, I know what I'm talking about, because I tried to be. You and Ellie hold me together. Now it's our turn, we won't let you fall apart." He kissed the top of your head and sighed deeply "You don't even know how much I love you..."

It was late when you got back. Your clothes smelled of forest and wind, just like Joel's. You felt tired, but you were also a little lighter, more confident. He saw it in your eyes and promised himself that soon you would go out together again outside Jackson. 

However, Joel was most surprised when he felt your arms wrapped around his waist as he stood in the shower and the streams of hot water washed his body. You clung to his back, so gently as if you were afraid he would push you away. But Joel kissed your hands, and then turned around and looked at you with such love that you had never seen in his eyes. 

So you surrendered to this moment, because you wanted to, because it was him, because you wanted to feel alive again. 

And when you felt his cock moving deep inside you, when his lips caressed your neck, and the cool tiles imprinted on your back - only God knew how much life flowed in you again.

"Sorry, I wouldn't keep you from your work if it wasn't so important."

"Don't worry, the laundry will definitely wait for me." you chuckled as you and Maria headed towards the building that served as the city hall or headquarters in Jackson.

It was already late in the evening, Joel hadn't come home yet, and you were busy with the usual household chores. The following days were somehow easier and you were happy to have your strength back.

You went inside and Maria led you to the back. You noticed a few men in the rooms, who were also taking part in patrols. They seemed strangely tense to you, but Maria quickly drew your attention to herself.

"Listen, this could be an unpleasant experience for you." she said, her hand stroking your arm. "But we have to be sure."

"What do you mean?" you asked, frowning. "Did something happen? Something with Joel or Tommy?"

Maria shook her head, then pushed the door open and nodded for you to enter. It was a dark room and you noticed that the curtains were drawn tightly and the only light came from the lamps placed on the walls. In the middle, three men sat on chairs, they were not residents of Jackson. They seemed strangely familiar to you, but you couldn't...

Someone said your name and you noticed Joel and Tommy standing nearby.

"What's going on?" you asked quietly. "Who is it?"

Tommy cleared his throat. "We've been following them for a few days. We suspect that they attacked you. You, Sam and Anthony. One of them had Sam's private things."

You looked at the men again, now you understood. And they must have recognized you too, because they twitched nervously. Two of them looked away, trying to avoid your eyes, but one of them was staring at you wildly.

"I know that pussy." he muttered, a smile twisting his face covered with thick stubble "I thought you died in the woods. You're a smart bitch."

There was a loud impact, it was Joel who hit the man without thinking. His head tilted back, but after a moment his quiet laughter filled the room.

"Is that your pussy? How was I supposed to know that it already had its owner?"

"Don't you dare talk about it like that!" Joel growled and wanted to hit him again, but Tommy grabbed his arm.

He looked at you carefully. "Is that them?"

"He recognized her!" Joel hissed furiously "That should be enough!"

"I need to know!"

You weren't fully aware of it, as if your body had made the decision itself. Your head twitched in confirmation. That was enough.

"Get her out of here." Tommy ordered.

"Joel! No!" you groaned, but someone's arms grabbed you and forcibly led you out of the room. The door slammed shut with a bang. Even though you didn't see it, you knew what was about to happen.

☆☆☆☆

Thank you for your time.

taglist, i think: @picketniffler @orcasoul @bbyanarchist @o-sacra-virgo-laudes-tibi @somedayheaven @underneath-the-sky-again