#I just. can’t seem to do it myself. because

[hoonieyun]

this is where it ends ⋆˙⟡♡

days of dodging your boyfriend after your fight finally lead you to the answer you've been looking for (read part one here) heeseung 𐐪♡𐑂 jongseong 𐐪♡𐑂 jaeyun 𐐪♡𐑂 sunghoon genre: aaaaangsttttt!!! angst!! heartbreak.. OOF warnings: toxic relationship, bad coping mechanisms, profanity, mentions of drinking as an addiction, gaslighting, arguing, 18+

hoonieyun notes: WHEW... lowkey was like.. damn this shit is TOO angsty so sorry in advance but im obsessed with angst lately and watching xo kitty did not help because that show was a rollercoaster LMAO anyways i hope you guys enjoy this sad piece of work because i have more coming with my vday anthology and exes reunited series plus! i've just announced my 1k follower special!

𐐪♡𐑂 @pagemiah @jiiyen @jnysaln @xh01bri @rairaiblog @laurradoesloveu @17ericas @manaah02 @heeseung64 @zorange13 @heartheejake @cloud-lyy @heeweenie @jakesimfromstatefarm @lovelymelon @1-itsneverthatserious-1 @anushkaaaiaiiaiaia

@chvconn3 @heeheeyeoiizz01 @pjselee @malloryaloisia @alienqbrain @jooniesbears-blog @haeeeeefer @firstclassjaylee

heeseung ⋆˚ʚɞ

it had been 3 days since you left heeseung standing in your apartment, dumbfounded and unsure of where you were. you really had hoped he would run after you that night but he didn’t and that seemed to put the nail in the coffin for you. 

were you ready to throw away your relationship all because of this? 

was it worth it to lose the person you love? 

you had pondered on so many questions since that night and each question felt like you were guilt tripping yourself into thinking that your own feelings weren’t valid, like you were trying to convince yourself that you were overreacting and that heeseung was right. 

why were you being so annoying?

but these questions only led to more questions instead of answers.

were you being annoying or were you just tired of not being heard? 

if you hadn’t been the one to constantly ask him to clean up after himself would he have done it on his own? 

why were you trying to come up with reasons to talk yourself back into his arms when you truly knew deep down the answer you were looking for…

you just weren’t ready to come to terms with it. 

so here you were, hurriedly packing what you could before heeseung could come home. and just to your luck, he had arrived much earlier than you anticipated. “yn?” heeseungs says, shock painted across his face as he sees you standing in the hallway with a box of your things. 

“wh- what are you doing?” he asks, eyes falling on the box in your hands. 

both of you knew the answer to that. 

“i think- i can’t do this anymore, hee… 

i did a lot of thinking these past fews days and everything i thought of i found myself trying to make excuses for you. trying to figure out why i was acting this way and why i was going out of my way to make it seem like i was the one causing these issues and stressing myself out and then i realized… 

why was i trying to compromise my own happiness and well being for someone who didn’t care about me? 

for someone who couldn’t simply understand where i was coming from and couldn’t even listen to me when all i would ask for was something so easy as to clean up after yourself. 

heeseung, you’re grown and so am i and i’m done acting like your words and actions don’t hurt solely for the fact that i don’t want to lose you. 

we’re over.” your eyes had tears pooling in them but you refused to let them fall in front of heeseung. 

“what?” heeseung asks, slipping his shoes off and running over to you in an attempt to stop you, reaching for the box but you move out of the way before he can. 

“yn.. can we please talk about this? don’t jump to conclusions just because you’re hurt. this isn’t what you want, what about us? 

are you willing to throw us away because of some petty fight?” and that’s when you knew that you and heeseung weren’t on the same page… at all. 

“that’s what you have to say?” and at this point you had lost the fight to stop the tears from falling. 

“you haven’t even apologized? and now you’re here trying to gaslight me into thinking that what i’m feeling is just the result of a petty fight? 

hee, you never listen to me. you dismissed my feelings and all i asked was you clean up our bedroom because i was tired. i’m sorry but if that was such a hard task then i don’t know what to tell you. 

i’m not jumping to conclusions. heeseung, we’re done.” you say, pushing passed him so you could leave and move on. start new and heal from this pain. 

“really? you’re just going to walk away?” heeseung asks, still refusing to take accountability for his actions. 

“i’m not walking away… you pushed me away.”

“bye, heeseung.”

jongseong ⋆˚ʚɞ

jay hadn’t been able to pick up a bottle of alcohol since that night… 5 months ago. he hadn’t realized he developed a bad habit of drinking all because he couldn’t wrap his head around the fact that his loving girlfriend, the one who took care of him, who loved him, who fought for him to make things right, was slowly becoming someone he didn’t love anymore. 

so why was it that now that you two were broken up, he wants nothing more to get back together with you? 

he thought about the day you finally came back. after you ran out in the middle of the night jay didn’t see you for a whole week and by the end of that week, you would be gone for good. 

“is this what you really want?” jay had asked you right before you left. 

“its not what i want… but it doesn’t seem like what i want would be something that could ever happen if i stayed with you. 

you hurt me, jay. all i ever did was care for you and love you and it made me realize i hadn’t felt care or love from you for a while now. 

i truly hope that you get help for your drinking problem but i’m sorry i’m not going to be the one to fix it for you.” and with that you were gone. out of jay’s life and although you had said that you weren’t going to be the one to fix his drinking problem, in a lot of ways; you did fix it. 

he hadn’t drank since that night and vowed to himself that he wouldn’t drink ever again and 5 months after, he’s kept that promise. 

jay wished that he did keep his promise to you. 

when he finally asked you to be his girlfriend, he had promised to hold your heart close to his and to never break it. only to find himself distancing his heart from yours and eventually shattering it into millions of pieces when you got into a fight that night. 

but he was now forced to face all of this all over again as you stood in front of him, mirroring the same shocked face he had as the two of you run into each other at a mutual friends party. 

you hadn’t seen jay since that night and although your heart ached for him, you had to choose yourself. you couldn’t stand being with someone who saw you as overbearing when all you did was care for and love them. 

you truly had been worried about jay ever since his drinking habits had gone worse and maybe you could’ve gone about it a better way and not made him feel attacked for his actions but he didn’t have the same consideration for you so why should you do the same… right? 

“h-hi.. yn. you look good.” jay stutters. 

“you do too, um.. i–” you begin to say but he cuts you off. “look, i know we didn’t end on the right foot and these past five months have been hard for me so i could only imagine how hard they’ve been on you. 

i wasn’t right to treat you that way and i’m sorry i’m only realizing it now. i miss you so much and i spend countless nights thinking about you. reminiscing on the good times and how i let myself ruin all of it. 

i’m sorry, yn.” it all comes out like word vomit and quite frankly, you weren’t prepared to hear any of it. you also hadn’t expected him to have this much of grasp on your relationship five months after, but it was all too late. 

“i’m sorry too, jay– but i can’t keep doing this. i think you need to move on. i know i will…” you muttered.

“for what it’s worth… you did help me… i’m five months sober.” he confesses and you give him a tight lipped smile. 

“take care of yourself, ok?” you say before turning around to leave and although jay wished that he could’ve said all of this five months sooner in hopes that it would’ve fixed your relationship, he respects your wishes and just hopes that the next guy who comes around would love you the way you deserved to be loved. 

jaeyun ⋆˚ʚɞ

in the time you’ve dated jake or quite frankly, anyone, they had never raised their voice and spoke to you in that way. jake seemed so angry and upset that it scared you. you knew that jake would never hurt you but his words pierced your heart in ways that caused you pain you had never felt before, especially from someone you love and was supposed to love you.

it always hurts more when it comes from someone you love right? 

you had come home the next day and found jake sleeping on the couch, hugging the plushy that he often said looked like you. 

you’d be lying if you said that seeing him like this didn’t make your heart hurt… but it did. 

it seemed like jake had fallen asleep on the couch waiting for you but you couldn’t shake the feeling.

the feeling of being unwanted, unloved, undesirable, and not enough for someone who is supposed to love you. 

but if jake had loved you he wouldn’t have raised his voice at you.. let alone speak to you in that tone and used language that was meant to hurt someone. 

“yn? is that you?” he says, stretching on the couch and rubbing his eyes, causing you to snap out of it. you quickly wipe away the tears that had miraculously appeared. “um, yeah. i just came to grab some things. you can go back to sleeping..” you explained as you made your way to your shared bedroom. 

“baby? can we talk?” jake says, peering into the room as he sees you packing your things inside of duffel bag. “wait- what are you packing? are you leaving? baby, please don’t do this, can we talk this out?” he was now on his knees in front of you, clutching onto your sweater while he begged. 

“jake, get up.” you say, rolling your eyes at him. 

“its just for a few days, i need time to myself- i need to think, ok?” you said and even now, even when you’re still hurting because of him from the night before, you were here trying to comfort him. 

jake stands up with a sniffle and he attempts to link your hands together but you pull away to continue packing your bag. “when are we going to talk about this? i love you, i don’t want you to leave… please stay.” he continues to beg and although its working, you needed to stay strong. 

“if you loved me you wouldn’t have spoken to me like that. people who love each other don’t speak to people they love that way. 

jake, you hurt me… and i don’t know what i did to deserve that treatment but i just wanted help. i spent all day running errands despite feeling like shit because of my period and you dismissed my feelings like it was nothing. 

that blanket meant so much to me, you knew that it was from my late grandmother yet you tossed it aside for your own accord because you didn’t have the same care for me and the things i love the way i do for you.” you said with a huff as you stuffed the last of your things into the bag. 

“when will you come back?” was all jake asked and all you could muster up was a shrug, because you weren’t entirely sure when you would be back. 

needless to say, a few days turned into a few weeks, and a few weeks turned into a few months and at some point you found yourself not having the need to come back. 

you wished you could get the closure you wanted from jake and you were sure he also wanted that, but walking away was something you needed to do. even if it was just one instance where jake spoke to you that way, it was enough for you to leave because you weren’t going to allow yourself to be with someone who found it in themselves to speak that way to someone they supposedly loved. 

not then, not now, and not ever.

sunghoon ⋆˚ʚɞ

sunghoon hadn’t known what he was doing, it was like his body was moving before his brain could think because he was running back inside and grabbing his car keys to drive after you. 

he wasn’t sure where you were headed off to but he had guessed that you were most likely going to stay with your mom. you were always close with your mom and she often was the person you went to when you were having troubles if you didn’t go to sunghoon. 

sunghoon knew he fucked up and he shouldn’t have treated you that way let alone let some strangers treat you that way. he didn’t know what let him get to the point where he was allowing these men to speak about you, the girl that he loved, in a way that made you feel small. demeaning and degrading you in a way that he hadn’t realized and even if he did, he chose to look away instead of defend you all because he was filled with the greed of wanting this promotion. 

was it even worth it anymore if it meant losing you? 

sunghoon was speeding at this point and although you hadn’t left much before he had went to follow you, there was no one else in the streets as he sped through to catch up to you. 

in a short amount of time, he’s turning into the street that your mom lives on and sure enough, he sees you just about to walk up to the front door. he hapazardly parks the car on the side of the street and stumbles out of his car to get to you. 

“yn, please. wait, lets talk about this!” he says and you’re startled at sunghoon suddenly appearing and you wipe the tears from your face and blink a few times to make sure he was actually there. 

“hoon? what are you doing here?” you ask, stepping down the small stairway that led to your mom’s home. “i couldn’t just let you leave like that, we need to talk-

look i’m sorry for the way i treated you and even more sorry that i let them treat you that way. i love you so much and i couldn’t imagine the amount of hurt i caused you for making it seem like i was okay with letting them say those things about you all because i wanted that promotion so damn bad. 

i was selfish and greedy but those are the things that make me want you more. i don’t want you to leave and walk away from me because i am selfish and greedy and i want you all to myself. 

i’m sorry that i didn’t defend you and i made you feel small…” he says and at this point sunghoon is crying. his voice breaks with every other word and you truly hadn’t seen sunghoon in this much distress, ever. 

you didn’t know how to respond but the longer you looked into sunghoon’s bloodshot eyes, the more confused you became. 

you could tell sunghoon was sincere but you didn’t think this was something that could be fixed right then and there. your sensitivity was always something you struggled with and sunghoon knew that yet he brushed off your feelings like it was nothing. 

“you shouldn’t have driven out all this way… 

because although i appreciate your apology i don’t know that i’m in the right place to accept it or to forgive you. 

sunghoon you hurt me and you let others hurt me. 

i’m selfish too, i want you all to myself too and i wouldn’t have stayed so long if i didn’t love you and want to be with you… but-

i don’t know if i can be with someone that doesn’t see me in the way i deserve. 

and i certainly know i don’t deserve any of that.” both of your attention is drawn to the sound of the front door as it opens, revealing your mother in her nightwear and arms crossed; a displeased expression on her face. 

“i’ll reach out to you when i’m ready.” you say and without another word you’re retreating into your mom’s home, hiding away from sunghoon and preparing yourself to have to face the inevitable one day. 

sunghoon on the other hand, drags himself to his car, head hanging low as he has to come to terms that his own selfishness and greed for the one he loved was also what caused him to lose the love of his life. 

copyright 2025 - present © hoonieyun all rights reserved all writing here is fiction & not in any association with characters mentioned. if you enjoyed reading this please consider reblogging and following <3

[emsdevs]

A Luke Hughes ask of his girlfriend going into labour and him telling his family he is a dad to a son

a/n: I'm so sorry for the wait nonnie! I hope you still like it! Also everyone please note: I have never been pregnant and therefore do not know the exact process of having a baby. If there are inaccuracies, please ignore them. Thanks and enjoy dad!Luke :)

Labor of Love

You swore you both would be prepared for this, and you definitely were. Luke, on the other, didn’t seem to be taking it as well. When you felt your water break, you called him into the room, telling him the situation.

“Oh god. Oh no. We have so much to do. Oh my god. Okay, you can get changed if you wanna, and I’ll get everything in the car,” he said, frantically moving around the room.

“Luke, baby, I can’t change my pants by myself,” you answered, significantly calmer.

“Right! Right, I knew that,” he plays it off, coming over to help you undress and redress. He moves you to the car where you get situated while he runs around grabbing everything you might need while at the hospital. 

After you arrived and got checked in, Luke called his family, letting them know you had gone into labor and were at the hospital. Next, he called yours. It was very early in the off-season and you went into labor a little bit early, so they would have to fly in from Michigan, unable to be there until two days later at the earliest. After many excited reactions, he was finally done with his round of phone calls, and he walked back into your room in just enough time for you to start laboring. Fourteen hours of blaming and yelling at Luke later, you had delivered your baby and were waiting to find out the gender. You both had agreed since it was your first child, you wanted to wait to find out the gender until the baby was born. Soon, your baby was in your arms and the midwife was telling you that you’d delivered a beautiful baby boy. The tears started flowing the moment he was placed in your arms, and out of the corner of your eye, you could see Luke in the same state beside you. 

“You did so well, baby. Look what you brought us,” he was getting choked up staring at the perfect mix of you and him.

“He’s so perfect,” you move your finger so your son can grab it, “a baby boy.” Soon, the nurses were stealing him away to run all the tests needed, and you instructed Luke to never let your baby boy out of his sight. Eventually, your boys returned, and you all got some much-needed family time. Soon though, you and your son were in desperate need of sleep, so Luke took that time to go inform his family. When he walked through the doors to the waiting room, everyone stood up waiting for whatever news he had for them. 

“She’s doing good, and the baby was born at 3:17. He’s healthy and so perfect,” he sniffled at the end of his sentence, feeling the tears beginning to well up again.

“He?” Luke heard your mom ask.

“Yeah we had a baby boy,” he couldn’t hold it in anymore. He was crying because of the pure joy he felt, his mother wrapping him in her arms while she shed her own tears. Distantly, he could hear Jack and his father having their own celebration before Jim went to call Quinn who couldn’t be there because of playoffs. Gently, Ellen pulled back before asking what name you two had decided on. You both had kept your picks for the names a secret, wanting to keep it to yourselves for as long as possible.

“Samuel Bennett,” he spoke softly.

“Samuel Bennett Hughes,” Ellen breathed, “He sounds perfect, Luke.”

“He is, Mom,” before Luke could start crying again, Jack brought him into a hug, telling him he knew he’d be a good father. His father was the last to hug him, being sure Luke knew how proud he and Ellen were. He let them be the ones to inform Quinn and your family, wanting to get back to his family.

When he got to the room, he took a moment to really take in you and Samuel. You were the love of his life, and he couldn’t wait to see where this road takes you both. He couldn’t wait to spend more time with Samuel and get to know the little boy that you two, mainly you, brought into this world. He was so incredibly thankful to be able to have this moment. You two have been through a lot since getting together in high school. You even stuck with him after he got drafted, choosing to transfer to a school in New Jersey to be closer to him. He’s always had your unwavering support, and he hopes you know he’ll always have your back as well. Right now though, he’s sure both of you will be the co-founders of Samuel’s fan club. No matter what happened or where life leads the two of you, he knows he has you and Samuel, and that’s enough for him.

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[flemingsfreckles]

Surprise Visitor (18+)

Synopsis: based on this request, You and jessie reunite at the Chelsea/Arsenal game in Washington DC and you finally get to act on feelings that were interrupted by her transfer.

Warnings: SMUT (18+), oral sex (r receiving and giving), fingering (r giving), making out, little bit of dry humping, language

WC: 5.7k

A/N: this is it (at least for now) I explain more in this post as to why I’m taking a step back from writing, it’s maybe not permanent and I’ll definitely still be around to read other work, make posts about transfers, all that stuff, but just taking a step back from writing for now. Love all of ya, thank you :)

“I have a surprise.” Niamh grabs your hand pulling you behind her.

“Hang on, let me get my damn shoes on.” You complained as the defender continued to drag you down the hallway, hobbling behind her you tried to get your heel into your shoe.

“Ta-da!” You hear Niamh say and you look up from your shoes where she stood arms out.

“Oh my god.” You feel silly as your jaw drops, clasping your hand over it in an attempt to hide it. “Jessie.”

“Hi.” The Canadian’s smile is soft. You can’t hold back anymore, rushing with arms open to Jessie, nearly slamming your body into her when you came into contact. Her arms around you wasn’t something you had felt since you dropped her at the airport, both of you in tears as she moved to Portland.

It’s like climbing into bed after a long day, stepping into a hot shower after being out in the cold, the first taste of a home cooked meal after being away for months, being back in Jessie’s arms is immediately relaxing.

“Sorry, I’ve just really missed you.” You finally speak up, shifting away slightly, both of you releasing each other.

“I’ve missed you so much.” Jessie affirms your own feelings.

Shaking your head in astonishment you still can’t believe the woman was standing in front of you. “I didn’t know you were coming.”

“I told Niamh, I wanted to surprise you.” You get lost in her smile, you had always gotten lost in her smile. She flashes a glance to Niamh who takes the hint and quickly excuses herself back to the locker room.

You wait for her to walk away, giving you the chance to fully look at Jessie. Scanning her head to toe, her blue and green Nike shorts, her grey shirt, the way her hair was down but neatly contained by the hat on her head. Her freckles are more prominent than the last time you saw her, the summer sun doing her well.

“You look good Jess.” You eye her up, her simple outfit allows you to fully appreciate her, her tan skin, her brown eyes, the way her hair was neatly placed. “Like, really good.”

You notice how she shys slightly at the compliment. “Thanks, the move has been good for me, I really like it in Portland.”

“Yeah it seems like your type out there.”

“What does that mean?” Jessie gently shoves your shoulder.

You shrug,worried you’ve offended the girl. “Biking, sustainability, knitting, the city gives off those vibes.”

“Yeah, I guess.”

There’s a small beat of quiet and you say what you’ve been thinking since you first saw the woman. “I do miss you though, everyday.”

“I know, I miss you too. I can’t believe you got here without me knowing.”

“Niamh helped.”

“Probably because she knew how I feel, felt, how I felt.” You admit.

“Huh?”

“How I felt about you, I told her.” you didn’t have to explicitly say anything for Jessie to immediately know what you were referring to.

“Oh?”

“Yeah, well not all of it. It’s just, I had a really, really hard time when you left. I couldn’t sleep, I didn’t take care of myself super well, and Niamh noticed, she was there for me. One night she came over to help me get my place back in order and I embarrassingly broke down and let it spill about my feelings.”

Jessie nods slowly, taking in what you had just told her.

“I didn’t tell her we kissed and I didn’t say anything about how you feel, how you felt.” You quickly correct yourself, realizing it would be naive to think she still had those feelings.

“How I feel.” Jessie says, nodding at you with a smile on her face.

“Hey you two, time’s up! You gotta come get ready.” Niamh’s voice, while usually a warm welcome in your life, was something you wish didn’t exist in the moment.

You look at Niamh before back at Jessie, you could feel the sadness start to bubble in your chest, you didn’t want to say goodbye again. You couldn’t.

“Go.” Jessie lightly pushed your shoulder. “I’ll be around after the game, maybe we can grab dinner? Niamh said you’d be free tonight. Or I’m around tomorrow.”

“Yes, of course.”

“Good luck, go kill it.”

As you took the pitch, all you wanted was to be off of it. You wanted to be back in Jessie’s presence, listening to her voice, watching her speak, you wanted to be with her. But instead you had 90 minutes between you and talking to her again.

You couldn’t help but find yourself scanning the crowd, looking for her. It took you until the 26th minute to find her. You’d run over to take a corner, bending down to pick up the ball, spinning it in your hands, and when you looked up, there she was. The focused look on her face, as if she was the one on the pitch, quickly turned into a smile when the two of you made eye contact.

You let out a sigh of relief hearing the final whistle. Chelsea had scraped by with a victory and now the only thing you had to think about was the freckled covered Canadian that stood patiently across the field talking with the fellow Canadians. You let her talk not wanting to interrupt her reunion with her other friends as well.

When she finally has a moment to herself you make your way over to her. “Hi.”

“Hi. Congrats, you played well.”

You shrug, she was just being nice, you knew it, you’d been admittedly distracted. “It wasn’t my best.”

“Well, it was still good soccer.” Her hand finds its way to your shoulders. “Don't be so hard on yourself.” You give her a sarcastic smile, Jessie always got on you when you’d tear yourself apart after a bad game or practice. She always knew how to calm you down, to remind you bad days happen, you’d missed her presence in your life greatly the past few days.

“That dinner invite still stand? I’d love to spend more time with you.” It may have sounded needy coming from your mouth but it was the truth, you wanted more time with her, that’s all you had wanted since she left, more time.

“Of course!”

“Okay, let me get showered and changed, I’ll meet you after?”

“Yeah.” Jessie nods and you head back to the locker room making sure to sign a few more jerseys and signs on your way. It was maybe the fastest you’d ever showered and changed, throwing on sweats and a shirt before throwing your gear haphazardly into your bag and heading out to find Jessie. The fatigue of the week finally begins to set in as you walk out of the stadium. You find her standing against a wall looking around. Her eyes catch yours as you let a yawn out.

“Hey.” You say mid-yawn, waving at her.

She smiles at you. “You look exhausted, I know I said it before but you played very well.” Extending her hand she makes a grabbing motion at you, “Give me your bag.”

“Yeah, exhausted is one way to put it, it’s a mix of traveling, London to New York to DC and the jet lag is finally catching up to me.” You pass the bag to her, she slings it over her shoulder.

“Want to just grab a pizza instead, come back to mine? We can just relax?”

You let out a small sigh of relief, while you would’ve done it for her, you didn’t feel like dressing up and going out. “That sounds perfect.”

That’s how the two of you ended up sitting on the couch Of Jessie’s hotel room, feet on the table, the box of pizza balancing on each of your thighs between you. Conversation has been flowing easily, a mix of old inside jokes, updates on your life, all coming up.

“So, you been seeing anyone in Portland?” Jessie had yet to mention dating, the topic simply avoided in conversation, but the question had been sitting in the back of your head since you saw her again, so you finally asked.

She gives you a quick smile, “Just jumping right to it then.” Looking down at the box and reaching for another slice she answers. “But no, I’m still working through some stuff, moving, captain, all that has just been a lot. What about you?”

“Nah, still getting over someone I never got to have.” You say nonchalantly, hoping she’ll pry.

Knowing her well, she does. “Oh really?

“Yeah, she uh, she was really cool, little nerdy, and pretty too, but then she moved for work and we never got to try, but I think we were pretty close to getting into something the week she left, we kissed for the first time in a hotel room and then she panicked and immediately told me she was moving.” You can’t help but contain the smirk that grows on your face as you watch Jessie realize what you were talking about.

“Oh you’re talking about me.”

“I am.” You nod, taking a bite of your pizza.

“I was stupid to wait around so long. I just wasn’t sure how you felt and I didn’t want to make things weird, and then moving to Portland, it was the easy way out, if things had gotten weird. I should’ve kissed you back when we won the league your first season.”

“I mean at least you did it eventually.”

Jessie hums in acknowledgment and you think back to when you first kissed her.

The two of you had been sitting on her hotel bed while Niamh was showering. You had been play fighting, you’re not even sure over what anymore. Gentle shoves became firm ones before you were tackling each other, and before you knew it you found yourself above her, your lips awfully close to hers.

It wasn’t the first time you’d been in that position with Jessie. Mistimed tackles on the pitch, other play fights, bus rides where you’d fall asleep on each other’s shoulders, your face and hers had been close before. You had always backed out, never giving in to your desire to kiss her.

But now, on the bed, on top of her, you decided against your better judgement and let your eyes wander to her lips, then back up, indicating what you wanted. When you saw Jessie just barely nod and move her head so her lips were just near yours, you leaned in connecting your lips. It had been a hard first kiss, but it confirmed all your feelings you had been harboring.

When you had pulled away you had expected Jessie to question why you’d done it, to yell at you, to tell you to leave. “I’m leaving Chelsea.” Were instead the words that came out of her mouth.

“What?” You were stunned, by the kiss and by her words equally.

“I, I got an offer, Portland, with Janine and Sinc, and I haven’t signed it, but I’m going to, the staff here already know. I’ll be leaving Sunday.”

You had been so sudden. The kiss, the hope of something only to be crushed by the news of her leaving. You felt as you had gone through the stages of grief trying to process Jessie’s news. You didn’t believe it at first, you knew deep down it was true, she’d be leaving you. You were mad, angry at her, not necessarily for leaving, but for not telling you sooner. You were upset, sad, spent the few nights left crying in your bed. And then you accepted it. You couldn’t do anything, she was leaving, she needed to. So you did the only thing you could think of and offered to drive her to the airport for her flight away from you.

There's silence between you and you’re not sure if she’s also replaying the kiss in her head too, or telling you the news, or the feeling of her walking through the airport doors away from you as you sat in your car fighting through tears to drive home.

“You’re cold.” Jessie says after you have a quick shiver as the air conditioner in her room kicked on.

“I’m good Jess.” Before you can try to convince her you were fine, she’s off the couch and rummaging in her bag.

You roll your eyes at her eagerness as she frantically digs. “Here.” A wave of red comes at you as she tosses a hoodie in your direction.

You flip it on your hands to see the Canada Soccer logo staring back at you. “I’m not wearing that!” You toss it back at her.

“Oh come on, it’s just a sweatshirt.”Jessie rolls her eyes at you as she sits back down, passing the fabric back into your lap.

“It’s a Canada sweatshirt.” You pass it back to her, holding it firmly into her lap, jokingly disturbed look on your face.

Jessie gasps pretending to be overly offended. “Don’t say that like it’s disgusting. Just put it on.”

“No!” You squeal as Jessie grabs your wrist, trying to put the sweatshirt over your arm. You manage to twist from her grip and dart across the room. She follows, chasing you. It’s no surprise when she catches you, you were faster in a sprint but she was always more agile.

Her hands grab around your waist pulling you in hard so your back is against her chest. You stop resisting for a moment, and relax into her, you can feel her heavy breathing behind you, the rise and fall of her chest. Just when she begins to loosen her grip on you, you wiggle free, managing to make it a few feet before she has you cornered in the entryway of the room.

Jokingly, you put your hands up by your head in surrender. Jessie is still just a few feet in front of you, sweatshirt in hand. There’s a tension, you can feel it, from the way you’re both panting, the intensity of her eyes on yours, the way she bites her bottom lip as she looks at you. It’s as if time freezes, for just a moment, the two of you on the edge of changing everything.

And then Jessie moves.

It’s swift, agile, just as she had moved around the room before, only this time it’s toward you. Two steps in and the hoodie is dropped to the floor, Jessie’s hands ahead reach for yours holding them out at the side of your head and now against the hotel door. Her chest is pressed against yours followed quickly by her lips pressed to your lips.

“Is this okay?” Jessie pulls back enough to talk, both of you breathing heavily, her hands still holding yours firmly to the wall.

Not sure how to even respond, you nod, mouth open as you stare at Jessie’s eyes that are intensely watching you. “Kiss me again.”

She does, releasing your hands as she occupies her left hand on your hip and her right hand on your cheek, pulling your body into her. Making out with Jessie was everything you’d imagined it could be. The perfect mix of soft, gentle touches as her fingers grazed your cheek, your neck, your hips, your stomach, she mixed it well with rough, bites to your lips, teeth grazing on ear and neck.

When she pulled her lips back from yours, her forehead resting on yours, her eyes stayed closed for a moment before slowly opening, meeting yours. “Just fuck me already Jessie.”

A small smirk comes across her lips. “Of course.” She kissed you hard again, her hands pushing you hard against the wall of her hotel room. Your fingers ran themselves through her hair, pulling slightly and keeping her close to you. A whine left your lips as she pulled back only to be quickly replaced with a deep moan as her lips found their way to your neck.

Starting with a hot open mouth kiss to the side you could feel your knees growing weak as she moved down before stalling just above your collarbone. Jessie attached her lips again, this time sucking.

You shouldn’t let her, you know that, you were an adult and a hickey, where people would see, wasn’t a good idea. Your teammates would see, they’d know something happened but the feeling of Jessie’s lips hot on you convinced you not to pull her away and you happily let her mark you.

She releases your neck a moment later, her hands grazing under your shirt, fingers cool on your abdomen. Growing impatient, you push her fingers off before grabbing the bottom of your shirt and lifting it over your head. You toss the shirt at Jessie, slinging it over her shoulder as her eyes remain glued to your bra. “You were taking too long.” You tease her, her eyes flickering up to yours before she returns back to your chest.

“Fuck we should’ve done this before you left, you’re so pretty.” She lowers her face for her lips to meet the top of your chest. Taking advantage by her distraction, you take the change to push Jessie, moving off the door before pushing her against the wall near the entry. Your hand grabs under her chin, lifting her head away from your breast so that you could kiss her again. The kiss is short before you’re breaking away, completely pulling away from contact with Jessie and walking further into her room, toward the bed. As you do so your fingers slip under the band of your bra and you’re quickly dropping it on the floor as you walk.

You lay back on her bed, letting your head hit the pillow. Jessie is quick to follow you into the room, kneeling at the end of the bed while you get comfortable. Once you stop adjusting, Jessie hovers over you, her eyes admiring your now naked chest. Your hands grab for the bottom of her shirt and she quickly helps, grabbing the bottom and pulling it over her head leaving her in a simple sports bra before returning her attention to you.

“Hmmm, still cold?” Jessie says, running her fingers down the valley of your breast, satisfied with the way your skin reacted to her touch and your nipples perked at the chill of the room and the desire to be touched.

Continuing her actions from before Jessie begins kissing down your chest, stopping this time to run her lips and tongue over your nipples. She alternates, soft sucking, quick twirls of her tongue before she switches sides, evenly distributing her attention. You reward her with breathy sighs and quiet moans, your thighs flexing in anticipation. The heat between your thighs was growing, you wanted and needed Jessie.

Testing the waters you grind your hips upward, immediately feeling Jessie react, her own hips rolling back against yours. She shifts, her lips still scattering, kissing along your chest and abdomen, moving so her thigh is between your legs. She shifts again and you feel the pressure of her thigh against your core. Unable to help yourself you roll your hips, grinding yourself against her in hope of even a tiny bit of relief. She lets you use her leg for a minute before she pulls away, smiling as what would be an otherwise embarrassing whine comes from your lips.

She sits back on her knees, her fingertips moving to your waist, fingers toying with the band of your sweats.

“Take them off.” You ask her, that’s all it takes and Jessie’s hands are grasping the elastic of your sweats and underwear pulling both down your legs in a rather quick motion. “Someone’s eager.” You tease her.

“A bit.” Jessie mumbles, a blush growing across her cheeks.

Jessie adjusts again, one hand holding herself above you, the other between your legs. You watch as her mouth drops in surprise as her fingers make contact with your arousal, her eyes widen for a moment before they roll back, closing.

Her fingers trace through you a few times before settling on your clit, gently circling it, looking between her fingers then up to you, you sigh as Jessie increases her pressure, you grind your hips meeting her movements.

Leaning down to kiss you, you let out a moan against her lips. The mixture of Jessie’s mouth on yours while her fingers touched you where you had longed for her for months was overwhelming. You’d had feelings for the girl above you for months, intense feelings, you’d always wanted her, she was everything. You can feel emotions, overwhelming desire and need and also the feeling of being close to her, to have her skin on hers.

“I want you.” You’re brought out of your own thoughts by Jessie speaking to you.

“You have me Jess.” Affirming her request, you were more than happy for her to make you hers in this moment, willingly offering yourself to her.

She shakes her head slightly. “No, not just right now, like for good, I want you.” The seriousness in her voice draws you from your arousal driven haze. You take a second to look at Jessie. Her eyes filled with lust and also what you had come to know as adoration. She looked a bit overwhelmed as she stared down at you. “I, I don't want anyone else to think they even have a chance.” She shakes her head more aggressively, curls bouncing in front of her own face.

“Jessie.” You pull your hands from her hips and bring them to the sides of her face, forcing her to look at you, preventing her eyes from wandering out of nerves. “No one else has a chance.” You mirror the shake of her head. “You’re what I want.”

“What about the distance?” She whispers eyes breaking their lock with yours, her thumb restlessly grazing your hip. You couldn’t believe this was the conversation you were having while lying naked under her.

“We’ll figure it out, I promise, I just want you Jessie. You’re what I’ve always wanted. It’s always been you.” You begin to feel a bubble of emotion grow in your chest, unable to name it a mix of warmth, familiarity, safety.

You pull her into a kiss, hoping you can portray even a fraction of how you feel about her through your lips.

“You’re all I want, I’m yours if you want me.” You whisper against her lips as you both pull away from the kiss.

“I’m yours.” She replies before your bottom lip is sucked between hers, gently tugging it, instantly bringing back the arousal that had been overshadowed by admiration.

As she releases your bottom lip, Jessie’s lips move, covering inches of skin, your neck, chest, stomach, all while her fingertips slowly drag back down to your legs.

You’re met with her beautiful brown eyes looking up at you when she settles between your legs. Desire and need written all over her face as her eyes silently beg before she uses her words. “Is it okay if I-”

“Please.” More than eager to finally feel her, you spread your legs, inviting Jessie in which she does quickly, moving up so you can suddenly feel her breath on your core. You feel yourself clenching around nothing in anticipation.

You watch intensely as Jessie slowly lowers her mouth, eyes locked firmly with yours, and her tongue makes its first contact with you. Simultaneously a groan comes from both of you, it wasn’t much, a simple pass of her tongue but her first taste of you had Jessie desperate for more. She gave another drag of her tongue from your entrance to your clit. This time the slight flick of her tongue against your nerves has you closing your eyes and tilting your head back into the bed.

“You taste so good.” You hear her whisper. Opening your mouth to respond, you’re interrupted by the moan that escapes instead as Jessie fully commits her mouth to you, tongue and lips covering your pussy, the mixture of suction and pressure from her tongue was blissful.

Still in disbelief that she was here, that you were naked in her bed, that she had said she was yours, you just watch as Jessie works to please you. You relax even more into the bed, letting Jessie take over.

Her eyes closed, eyebrows pinches slightly,

“There.” You breathlessly say, feeling Jessie’s tongue flick against your clit in a way you know will have your legs shaking shortly. “Keep doing that.” It’s no surprise to you when Jessie immediately listens, always one to take coaching well, a quick learner, she doubles down on her movement eyebrows scrunching in focus.

“Fuck Jessie.” Her name comes out in a groan, Jessie responding with a groan of her own at hearing her name come from your lips so sensually. “You’re going to make me cum.”

It’s seconds later that your orgasm washes over you. Jessie’s head is suddenly being squished between your thighs, but that doesn’t stop her. Gently coaxing you through the waves of pleasure Jessie’s tongue and lips continue tracing circles against your clit. When your thighs finally relax, falling apart to the bed, Jessie pulls her mouth off of you, looking up with a grin. “That was so much better than I ever imagined.”

“You’ve imagined it?” A little surprised at the idea of Jessie fantasizing about you, you can’t help but ask.

“Uhhh, I mean,” Jessie’s cheeks tint red as she looks at the painting hung on the wall next to the bed, avoiding eye contact.

“Glad I’m not the only one who did.” You admit, watching as the midfielder visually relaxes. “Come here, let me get that.” You reach a thumb out towards Jessie’s chin, wiping away what remained of your orgasm on her face. Before you can wipe your finger on the bedsheet Jessie grabs your wrist, bringing your thumb to her own mouth. Slowly she runs her tongue across your finger before she briefly sucks off the liquid, softly moaning to herself.

“You taste so good.”

Sitting up you grab Jessie’s face kissing her. Her lips are still just as soft as before only this time you can taste yourself on her as your tongues meet. Leaning forward Jessie is thrown off balance, falling backwards onto her back, you follow laying on top of her. Both of your feet are now at the head of the bed. You kiss her for a few minutes, slowly increasing the intensity, letting your hands roam, pulling at the tied knot on the shorts she was wearing. It takes both hands to finally get the knot undone and your fingers quickly dig into the waistband before you pause to pull away.

As you pull away you watch Jessie starting to nod at you, smile beaming from her face. “Yes, you can take them off.” She says before you even ask. Sitting back you slide the shorts off her legs, taking a moment to admire her in just a bra and panties, everything about her was gorgeous, tastefully toned muscles wrapped in her tanned summer skin. You wanted to touch every inch of her. Instead you pulled away, standing up from the bed.

“Where are you going?” Jessie asks, a confused look on her face.

“Come here.” Kneeling on the floor, your hands reach for Jessie’s thighs as you pull her towards you. She adjusts, and at the same time pulls her bra up and over her head.

“Wouldn’t the bed be more comfortable?”

“Shh, just let me.” You grab under her knees, pulling her even closer to the edge of the bed and closer to you. Your fingers come to the last remaining article of clothing she had on. Pulling them off of her, they join the various other clothing items scattered in her hotel room.

Now bare you grab her legs, putting each one on your shoulder. You can see she’s wet. It takes every bit of restraint and self control to not immediately dive into her. Instead you turn your attention to her thighs, taking your time kissing from her knee to the crease of her leg. The closer you get the more you feel her tense up and when you switch legs, letting your breath run over her core, you notice the way her hips subtly tilt up.

You take a few more minutes kissing along Jessie’s legs, a couple kisses to her hips, along with gentle scratches from your fingers has her impatient, “I didn’t tease you this much.” You finally hear her complain.

Deciding she had suffered enough of your drawn out teasing, you place a hand on each thigh holding her legs open and bring your mouth to where she was dripping for you. Immediately you’re rewarded with the sound of Jessie moaning and her hand on your head holding you tight to her. “Fuck.”

Hearing her make those noises for you, because of you, sends a heat through your stomach. You needed more of her. You lapped at her as if it would be the last chance you ever got to taste her, for all you knew it would be. Determined to commit it all to memory you took in every sound, every whine, groan, breath, every movement she made, how she’d grip your hair tighter when you teased her entrance with your tongue, how her hips rolled slowly in time with your tongue, you wanted to remember it forever.

Abandoning her entrance you move your mouth to focus on her clit, softly sucking while applying firm pressure to her has her breathing harder. Eager to have your hands on her, and to show her why you’d move positions, you bring a hand up between her legs, running your middle and ring finger through her core, pulling them away as they become covered in her slick.

You let your fingertips circle her opening a few times, a flood of cockiness growing in you as you feel her clench around nothing, waiting for your fingers and she whines out, “Please.”

You bite back a laugh at how easily you had her begging before every thought in your mind is erased as you sink a finger into her. Enveloped in her warmth, you can’t think of anything else besides Jessie. Her taste, her noises, how she feels around your finger, it has you wet all over again. You give Jessie a few thrusts before adding your ring finger, her satisfied moans tell you everything you need to know as you continue to slowly but firmly fuck her with your fingers. You curl them inside of her, pulling a whimper of your name.

You wanted to hear that again and again, you never wanted to know what it would be like for someone to moan your name. Only Jessie from now on, only her. The primal instinct to fuck her was only growing inside of you, you began thrusting harder, faster, your tongue working harder, all your efforts being appreciated by Jessie.

The grip of her fingers in your hair was becoming almost painful but Jessie’s words made the sting worth it. “That’s good, that gonna make me cum, fuck.” The breathlessness of her voice, almost hoarse, grew your desire to watch, hear, and feel her cum.

It was minutes later that Jessie’s back arched off the ground, her hips tilting away momentarily before thrusting onto your fingers and mouth. Her head was thrown back but you could see how she harshly bit her bottom lip, doing nothing to silence the noises she made. Just as her thighs closed around your head, you felt the way she was rhythmically clenching around your fingers as you continue to thrust them, helping her through the pleasure.

“Too much.” The hand that had momentarily relaxed in your hair was suddenly pushing you away. Jessie’s legs fall open and when you feel her fully relax you slowly slip your fingers out of her, bringing them to your mouth. Just as you had before you begin placing soft kisses along Jessie’s legs, moving to her abdomen, then her chest, collarbone, up her neck, her cheek and finally placing a kiss on her lips. Her eyes remain closed, as she relaxes on the bed.

“As good as you imagined?” She says, opening one eye to peek at you.

“Way better.” You grin back at her. You climb onto the bed, adjusting the pillows that had been pushed around in your activity. “Come here.” You pat the space next to you and Jessie slowly rolls over and moves to lay next to you. Wrapping your arm around her you pull her in, her head coming to rest on your chest, her arm around your waist.

“So…” You start, your fingers tracing lines and squiggles across the bare skin on Jessie’s back as she laid on your chest. “Did this mean anything?” Jessie lifts her head off your chest, shifting to look at you.

“I mean, it doesn’t mean nothing.”

Tilting her head back down Jessie hide her face as she speaks again. “What does that mean?”

You let out a sigh. You’d just been bare in front of Jessie, maybe now it was time to be naked, to fully tell her. “It means I’ve have feelings, I’ve always had feelings for you, and this made them those feelings much more real, so this didn’t mean nothing to me, this meant a lot to me.”

“Good.” Jessie looks up at you again. “Because this meant a lot to me too. And I don’t know, long distance is a lot, but for you it would be worth every minute.”

“You’d be worth it.” You respond before craning your neck down to kiss her.

The two of you remained in her hotel bed for a bit, relaxing into each other with fleeting touches and soft kisses, until Jessie urges the two of you to get up, claiming you both should pee and wash your hands.

“Not complaining about the Canada logo now, are you?” Jessie smirks at you through the mirror as you wash your face, poking a finger into the sweatshirt of hers you had thrown on.

“Shut up.”

“I mean if you have a problem with it,” she pauses as she comes behind you, fingers playing with the bottom of the fabric. “We can definitely take it off.” Her big brown eyes are practically begging you as she looks up at you.

“Hmm then yes, maybe I don’t want it on anymore.” You pull it off your head as you exit the bathroom. Hearing Jessie quickly follow after you.

“Wait for me!”

[nickfowlerrr]

once more with feeling

pairing: professor!bucky barnes x curvy!actress!reader (reader is not a student)

warnings: mdni. no smut. flirting. i’d label this as soft horny if that were a thing lol. edward/guy moratz makes a short appearance. not much else really but self-indulgence at its finest. reader is probably minimum twenty five but you can imagine whatever age 21 and up you'd like and it should read alright.

words: 5185

notes: this was originally going to be a professor bucky x reader fic but then i got the idea for auditioning reader and then i thought oh! what if i wrote for my latest obsession - edward/guy! so then it was gonna be guy x actress reader but then i realized i kept picturing bucky and i’ve missed writing for him so then it changed again into professor bucky but now with actress reader and that’s where i landed with it even though i think this would work so well with guy as our guy and truth be told upon rereading myself i did start to picture him instead of bucky ha but ANYWAY this is buckys fic but if you wanna picture guy that works pretty well too 🤭 writing this was a nice distraction from the craziness of life lately and i hope you enjoy it. also just to say it - if you haven’t had the chance to watch a different man yet, you absolutely should. it’s great.

pls lmk your thoughts! i’d love to hear what you think. thank you in advance for reading! as always, comments and reblogs are so appreciated and more than welcome. 🩵

Goosebumps have risen all over your skin as you sit in the uncomfortable auditorium seat. Your legs are freezing thanks to the dress you don; despite its length, the fabric doesn’t provide much warmth and you can’t help but shake just a touch as another chill comes over you. You wrap your arms as tightly as you can around yourself but it too does little to help. The shrug cropped cardigan keeps your arms covered but the cold still chills - even inside the walls of this classroom auditorium.

This was a stupid idea, you accept far too late.

Granted, your planned outfit originally saw you in lined leggings to help fight the cold of the season, but after your little trip down the stairs on your way here - despite having held the skirt of the dress up to avoid such a fall to begin with! - you decided to toss the ripped and coffee soaked leggings and keep on instead of doing what the universe clearly was screaming at you to do: Go back to your apartment, take those god forsaken heeled shoes off, and put on something simpler. You were trying too hard.

Maybe you were. But you couldn’t care. You needed this. And when do you get to wear a dress like this on the daily? It fits the mood and works for the role without being a costume. You may feel a little uncomfortable, you don’t wear dresses out often, but you don’t think you’ve really made the wrong choice.

You were last on the audition sign in sheet so thankfully no one would be left to watch you the way you’d just studied the twelve other girls reading for this role.

They all dressed casually, had book bags with them, it was obvious they all attended this school. And here you were! A college dropout, overdressed in comparison, and clearly out of place.

Ah, you’re getting too in your head again. Always looking for a reason why something won’t go your way. But you’ve been working on that, and calling yourself out seems to help.

You take a deep breath as the last girl clears the stage and the casting table speaks amongst themselves.

You haven’t been able to see any of their faces, only the backs of their heads. You aren’t sure if there are students or faculty at the table with them but you figure it doesn’t really matter.

The casting call said all were welcome to audition - student or not. The location was only at the college because of renovations on the theatre in the city.

…It did say that, right? You’re not auditioning for a college show, right?

Your heart begins to pick up speed as you worry. Did you read it wrong? Were you making things up? You scramble for your phone and as you pull up the email the city theatre sent out last week, your name is called.

You don’t have the chance to reread it before you shut your phone off and tuck it away in your bag, placing it on your seat as you stand. You take a breath as you smile as confidently and friendly as you can and make your way down to the stage.

“That’s me,” you say as they watch you.

Finally you’re able to see their faces and as you make eye contact with each of them you can feel them sizing you up. Three people sit at the folding table before the stage and one man sits a bit further back in the second row of auditorium seats. He has yet to look up from his book and you realize you hadn’t noticed him at all earlier.

A younger man at the casting table, no more than 30 if you’d had to guess, tilts his head as he watches you ascend the few steps to the stage.

“So,” he states your name again, “do you attend classes here?”

“No,” you answer with a small shake of your head, “no I’m not a student.” You work to maintain your easy smile as you feel all eyes on you.

The man nods and turns to speak to the man still sitting and reading behind him. “Well, Mr. Barnes,” he gets his attention finally, “no pressure to stay. All the students have been seen, you’re free to go. This is the last audition for the day then we’ll be out of your hair.”

“Until tomorrow when you’ll take over my auditorium again,” he rumbles lowly as he stares at the man who is still looking at him.

You swallow hard as you do the same. His eyes are bright despite his obvious annoyance, his dark hair pushed back as he tries to keep it out of his face, only a couple silver strands shining through the dark chestnut brown; the stubble that covers his jaw adds to his air of gruffness - the spot of gray near his chin adding to his appeal. He’s tall, you gather as your eyes move down his body, his long legs. He wears dark slacks and a baby blue button up dress shirt tucked into his pants. The sleeves are rolled up his forearms and the top couple buttons of his shirt are undone, giving just a hint at his chest hair and the chain that hangs around his neck.

You realize you’re staring as you hear the voice of the younger man responding to Mr. Barnes, but you don’t hear what he’s saying as you force yourself to look away. Your eyes blink up and you’re caught. His blue eyes are on you, brows furrowed and his expression unreadable. You quickly look away and pretend you weren’t doing a thing as you wait for them to give you the go ahead.

Some more words are exchanged as they seem to try and appease the man whose classroom they are in. You’re not entirely paying attention to the conversation as you run your lines in your head for the millionth time.

You know the words. You know the part. You’re not worried, necessarily. But you haven’t booked a single thing in the past eight months and to say that hasn’t shaken your confidence in yourself even just a little bit would be a lie. But you’re getting back to your roots. You’ve missed the theatre. It was and will forever be your first love. This is your first stage audition in a while though, and your first experience with this theatre. Since moving to the city, you swore you’d audition for one of their shows but just never got around to it as your focus shifted to film. This is your time now. Is it going exactly how you’d envisioned it’d go? Well, you’re standing in a university campus auditorium instead of the stage at the Fervent Fires Theatre to audition, so, no. But that’s okay! You have a good feeling about this. And as you stand here, you feel more and more relaxed. It’s kind of bringing you back to your high school days - the annoyed teacher having to share the auditorium with the annoying theatre people. It’s funny.

And after seeing the other girls audition you really don’t feel too stressed. Most of them were late teens auditioning for Elmire. Despite the fact you played her in your late teens, too, that was simply because the production was full of other teens and young adults. You’re definitely more of the right fit even now. You’ve seen some of the theatre's productions before and who and how they tend to cast. Granted this is second day auditions and everyone else who has been seen might be in your league, but you won’t dwell on who you may be compared to - and you kind of needed the confidence boost today.

You take a breath and remind yourself you know what you’re doing. Whether you get a callback or not, just being on a stage again, acting in front of people again, you’ve needed this. It’s good.

You come back to yourself, out of your head and more at ease and hear Mr. Barnes as he speaks.

“And I appreciate being ‘free to go’ but I’m fine right where I am. Seeing as how this is my classroom, I’m sure that won’t be a problem.”

“Oh, no, of course not. I just meant that if you wanted to go, you were free to, are free to, do, ya know, whatever you want. We were under the impression you were required to be here as a faculty member during student’s auditions, but, uhm, yes, of course. We aren’t trying to push you out or anything,” he smiles before nervously clearing his throat and turning back to face the table. He shuffles around the papers before him and you see him pull your headshot and resume to the front of his stack, grabbing his notes and pen before turning his gaze to you.

“Alright, sorry about that. You can start whenever you’re ready.”

Their eyes are all on you. The casting table, and the man behind them. He’s set his book down next to him, has his hands folded in his lap as he sits back in his seat, casual and intent all at once, while his brilliant blue gaze is set right on you.

-

The audition is a blur, it goes by so fast. As you thank them for their time, you’re surprised when they offer you more information they hadn’t given out before.

“Callbacks will be next Tuesday and they’ll be at the actual theatre. We’ve been under construction all month but should be good to go next week. We appreciate you taking the time to come audition here, we know it’s a little out of the way in comparison.”

“Not a problem at all, it actually isn’t too far from me,” you smile.

“Good, well, keep a look out for an email with more details and…” the director on the end of the table looks up to you as if she’s catching herself from revealing a secret, then sighs, “ah, screw it, you’re definitely on the callback list,” she smiles, “we’ll see you there.”

“Amazing,” you breathe, “I’m looking forward to it. Thank you again, so much,” you can’t help your grin as you walk closer to the steps of the stage.

The casting table packs their things as you walk past them back to where you were sitting before. You’d left your bag and half drinken coffee so you make to go get it. As you pass the first few rows, you feel Barnes’ stare again, this time only fleeting as his name is called from the young man who spoke to him before.

“This table?”

“You can leave it,” he states, sounding bored.

“Okay. Thank you again for letting us use the stage, we really do appreciate it.”

You don’t hear him reply as you hear the casting team leave out the door.

The realization you’re the last one left intruding on this man has you hurrying up.

Until you hear his voice again.

“You were good.”

You turn at the compliment, wide eyed as you see him coming closer up the steps. Your heart seems to skip a beat and you wonder what he’s doing until he bends down a few rows before you and picks up an empty coffee cup someone must have left earlier.

You’re caught a bit off guard but force your mouth to work after a second, “Thank you.”

“Yeah,” he nods as he stands back up straight. You watch as he tosses it easily into the trash can at the bottom of the stairs before he turns back to look at you again.

You were right. He’s tall, and somehow even more attractive than you’d originally thought now that you’re seeing him even closer.

“I’m no director, but from what I’ve seen yesterday and today, if I was casting, you’d be it.”

“Oh,” you feel your face warm despite how cold the auditorium still is, “that’s,” you laugh a little under your breath, “that’s really nice to hear, thank you.” You have to look down as his gaze is just a little too much for you right now. You don’t need to fall down another set of stairs today and if you let yourself get lost in those ocean blue eyes of his, you’re almost certain you will.

“You seem more shy off stage than you do on,” he comments, taking another step up the stairs, another step closer to you.

“Yeah,” you titter nervously, “um, I’m an actor, ‘m pretty good at faking it when I have to.”

He raises his brow at your unintentional innuendo and immediately you catch yourself. You feel like you’re on fire and you see something in his eyes, almost like he’s working himself up to reply as he takes the last step he needs to be on the same level as you.

“You fake it a lot?”

Your lips move as if you have words to speak but nothing comes out as he stares at you and you stare back.

God, he smells good. And he’s so tall. And muscular. And pretty.

You blink as you try to break yourself free from this trance.

Is he hitting on you? You don’t even know this man’s name and yet there’s a fluttering in your tummy at the way he’s eyeing you. His gaze roves down your body, over your soft curves that are accentuated by the corset dress hugging you. His tongue darts out as he wets his lips seemingly without thought and that familiar desire that’s been plaguing you the last six months since your breakup has you fidgeting where you stand. He’s so effortlessly hot and the thought of getting on your knees right here and now for him hits you out of nowhere and only burns you further. Wow, where did that come from?

You haven’t been with anyone since you ended things with Nick, and you may be horny, but you’re not desperate… Are you?

You swallow hard and extend your hand to him, offering him your name as you do. He smiles with a deft chuckle, looking from your hand back up to your eyes before he takes your hand in his, seeming to ease some tension in him you hadn’t noticed before. Maybe not tension, maybe anxiousness? But no, that couldn’t be it. His smile is so easy there’s no way the word confident wouldn’t be in your top choices to describe him.

“James,” he supplies as you shake his hand. His big, warm hand that you can’t help but imagine the weight of if he were to place it on your waist. He squeezes you just a bit and another wave of your sudden desire rolls through you.

“Nice to meet you,” you say, sounding a lot more sultry than you ever intended. His lips quirk and he takes a second before he responds, again, you get the funny feeling he’s working himself up to say what he does.

“Can I be honest with you?” he asks bluntly, waiting for your nod before he continues. “I saw you staring at me when you were on stage.”

Okay. Ha. Wow. You’re so hot you wouldn’t be surprised if steam was coming off your cheeks. God, you could just explode from your mortification at his words. Is he really calling you out like this, right to your face? Your cheeks are burning and you don’t know what to say. You suck your lips in your nervousness as you inhale a breath through your nose, letting your lips go as you suck your teeth when you release them. You look down as your tongue runs along the edges of your teeth. A nervous habit when you’re at a loss for words as you let out a breathy titter at being caught and having it brought up.

You hear a light laugh from him before your breath is stilled when he gently touches your chin, his touch warm as he tilts your face up so you’re looking at him once again.

You’re stalled in a sort of awe as his eyes seem to twinkle at you.

“You don’t need to be embarrassed,” he assures you, his voice smooth as silk, “I was staring back.”

The soft smirk on his lips lights you up as you unthinkingly wet your own. In any imagined scenario you would never have thought you’d be so receptive to a stranger coming on this strongly - so boldly and up front. But here you are. Receptive as hell. There’s something about him, about his approach, that has you even more attracted to him than you were at first glance…er, stare. His voice, his attitude, the way he’s looking at you. As if he knows exactly what he wants, and he’s going for it. As if the very thing he wants right now, is you.

“Your eyes alone are captivating, but there’s something else about you,” he muses, “you got on stage and it was like I couldn’t look away.”

You almost have to force yourself to take a breath before you can talk. “The dress,” you quip with a small shrug.

“The dress,” he looks down at your body once more, a funny fluttering setting your core alight under his gaze, “well it definitely helped. It’s nice,” he compliments, his hand reaching to touch the fabric and grazing your hip. At his touch his eyes flick up to gauge your reaction and, seeing what you’re sure is a dreamy like haze, he goes on. “Look, I have to teach a class here in half an hour so I’m just gonna cut to the chase,” he says, a hint of an east coast accent slipping in and becoming clearer in his voice as he speaks, “I think you’re gorgeous. And I think you might think I’m not so bad myself,” he half smiles as his lips twitch. “I know this is forward,” his eyes meet yours once more, “and there’s no expectation here.”

Your brows raise despite yourself as you wait for him to go on. He licks his lips again and takes a step closer to you.

“Do you wanna have sex with me?”

You inhale sharply as you pause, your lips parting with the breath.

Weirdly some far off part of you was kind of expecting that was where this was leading, but in the very same breath, you really were not expecting him to say that. Your mouth goes dry and your mind goes blank as you try and process his words. You know your immediate, no thought involved answer. But surely, this calls for some thought, doesn’t it?... It’s not like anonymous sex isn’t a thing, it’s just never been your thing. But you do have the rest of the day free and you’re riding on a kind of confidence high at the moment, and god is this man tempting.

A small smirk tugs at the corner of his lips as he stares at you, studying you and waiting for your yes or no.

“You do this a lot?” you ask instead.

He breathes a soft chuckle, “Never, actually,” he shakes his head, “but I’ve been out of the game for a while, recently been told I need to put myself out there, and I guess I don’t really know how to be anything other than direct these days.”

“Hm,” you look into his bright eyes, a sincerity there you don’t find in people often these days, “I guess I can appreciate that.”

“Is that a yes?”

Fuck it, you think. You’ve been pushing past your normal comfort zones all day. What’s a little sex with a hot stranger? …Right? You’re seconds away from saying yes, how could you not, you egg yourself on, but you figure you should make this as clear as you can. Not that his answer has much chance of changing yours.

“Is this just sex? Or…” you trail off.

“At the very present moment,” he specifies, “just sex.”

You nod in easy understanding, readily taking it for what it is, but he continues on.

“And if you wanna leave it at that, we’ll leave it at that, but if you’re interested in dinner later tonight, too, I’d be glad to buy. Pick you up and everything.”

“Oh, what a gentleman,” you simper with a titter you can’t suppress. “Okay.”

“Yeah?” he asks.

“Mhm,”

“Sex?”

You nod with a smirk as he closes the gap between your bodies.

“Right now?” he adds again, getting the same response as you smile against his lips when he leans in closer.

He kisses you. You’re immediately lost to him as his lips touch yours, his stubble tickling your soft skin. It’s surprisingly tentative, slow and soft at first, like he’s testing the waters between you. After a long moment, he decides to pull away, not too far, only parting for a split second. You're struck by the fleeting feeling of his lips being on yours, it steals your breath as you mindlessly lean into him immediately looking for more. Your eyes meet again, there’s a glimmer of shared recognition and you know he feels the same, and then his lips are on yours even more hotly. You’ve always thought people were dramatic when they spoke about having sparks with someone, that it wasn’t a real experience, just hyperbole… exaggeration, but you’re realizing now you just hadn’t ever experienced it before. That spark, that zing, it is real. It must be, because as crazy and sudden as it is, you think you have it here.

His hand comes to hold your head, keeping you close as he leads you. You might be embarrassed by the way you melt into him if you were thinking of anything other than how good his touch is and how perfect his lips seem to meld with yours.

You’re filled with a thrilling excitement you don’t know you can compare to anything you’ve felt before. This is new and nice and as the kiss deepens, your nerves turn from jittery butterflies in your belly to a smoldering desire that burns lower and lower. His firm body is pressed to your soft one and his free hand falls to the tail of your back, holding you closer and keeping you there against him before his hand snakes to your hip, wandering up your curves as he feels as much of you as he can. Your own hands are against his stomach as you chase his kiss, fingers fisting the fabric of his button down shirt.

James nips at your bottom lip and you give him entry without a pause, his tongue slipping in your mouth as he kisses you fervently, like something out of a movie. You’ve never been in a situation like this, and you can say with certainty you’ve never been kissed like this either.

You let your hands slide up his torso until you find the first button. As if you’ve done it a million times, you easily begin the tedious task of unbuttoning each one - though you take your time, not wanting to break any as you’re still caught in his hold, still lost in his kiss.

You hate having to break away but you need a breath and despite the loss of contact with your lips, James’ continues to travel along your skin. From your cheek to your jaw and down your neck as you angle yourself to allow him more access, all the while your fingers do their work and your breathing turns heavier. Once the buttons are undone you pull the tails of his shirt from his pants. His hands are still on you, feeling you as he kisses your delicate skin.

Your hands stabilize yourself by holding his sides as he yanks you closer to him still. He’s much thicker than he looked, you realize as you touch him. Your hands wander up his back, wanting to get his undertank off as soon as humanly possible so you can really feel the muscles there.

He brings an arm around your waist and his other hand glides down your back until he gets to your bottom, groaning in your neck as he squeezes you there.

“Buck?”

A loud voice breaks the trance the two of you have been under and causes you to jump as you hear the doors closing and footsteps coming around the side staircase, bringing a different man into view.

You’re startled, and James gallantly moves you just behind him despite your still fully clothed state. You’re still grateful though, you know you must look a little mussed, your cardigan falling down your arms and James’ undone shirt hardly producing any air of innocence about what was unfolding just moments ago.

“Oh, sorry,” the man starts with inquiring eyes, looking between the both of you. He’s just as tall as James and has eyes just as blue. He’s clean shaven, though and not as bulky. Still, they look like they could be brothers. “Professor?” he asks, “Am I interrupting something?”

“She’s not a student, Guy,” James responds, annoyance clear as day in his voice. “I’m not Drysdale.”

“Right,” Guy says on a light, breathy laugh, a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. He seems uncomfortable at the mention. You see him as he eyes James’ still undone shirt.

“What do you need, Guy?” James asks firmly, getting his eyes back on him.

“It can wait,” he brushes off, “just wanted to say thanks for letting the theatre use the stage again, we appreciate it.” His eyes flick to you and he seems to make a connection. “Elmire?”

Your eyes meet his in surprise, “Um, yeah,” you nod with a small smile, shifting your weight from one leg to the other, arms crossed over your chest.

“Tartuffe,” he gestures to himself with a smile of his own. You suddenly recognize him and take a step forward.

“Wait, did I see you in Death of a Salesman the other month?”

“Yes,” he smiles even more sincerely now, “yes, it’s the year of the classics at the theatre,” he chuckles.

“Right, yeah, you were incredible. Really great performance,” you compliment him.

“Thank you very much. I heard good things just now about your audition, I’m assuming you’re -,”

James interrupts Guy by supplying your name himself, causing you both to look at him. You fight a smile at the sound of it on his lips.

“Well then,” Guy looks back toward you, clearing his throat a bit, “I will be seeing you at your callback,” he turns to James, “and I will be seeing you in the office later.”

He takes a step back, “It was nice to meet you, and thank you again, Bucky.”

The name catches your attention as Guy walks off and James turns back to face you.

He sighs as he looks at you, reaching for your hand which you allow him to take.

His touch is deceptively delicate and you can’t pretend you don’t like it.

“Bucky?” you question. He meets your gaze and gives a sheepish half smile.

“Nickname.”

You nod, “Ah. Makes sense,” you lilt, holding his eye. “Suits you.”

“You can call me Bucky if you’d like. Like the way it sounds when you say it.”

You huff a laugh, looking away. He continues on, “I’m sorry for that interruption, I uhm,” he let’s go of your hand and moves to start buttoning his shirt back up, “I think we’re gonna have to try this again later,” he pauses, glancing back to you, “if you’re still-,”

“I am,” you smile, cutting him off.

He finishes tucking in his shirt and then immediately takes another step closer to you.

His eyes are scrutinizing in the best way as he takes your face gently in his hands, your own coming to hold his wrists; his bright gaze shining into your own. It feels intimate but strangely…right.

“I guess I should be thanking Guy,” he muses. Your brows furrow in unvoiced questioning. His lips quirk at the face you make. “I was taking the advice of someone I’d never normally take advice from being so forward with you. Honestly, it’s not really me,” he admits, admiring the soft smile of your own gracing your lips at his words. “I’m more of the courting type.” You laugh brightly at his choice of words as he smirks. “Old fashioned, I know.”

“No, that’s..That’s good. More my speed. I was uh, stepping a little ways out of my comfort zone with this myself.”

The want that had been burning between you two wasn’t exactly boiling over at the moment, but despite the space between you now, it was still there... Call it a low simmer.

He pulls you closer as you wet your lips and his nose brushes yours. You’re certain he’s about to kiss you and your eyes flutter shut but instead, Bucky pulls away. He lets you go as he bites his own lip and you both hear the opening of the door again before you hear multiple footsteps follow in.

“My class is starting soon. But,” he gets his phone from his back pocket and hands it to you, “we’re still on for dinner?”

You take his phone with a demure smile, feeling somewhat grateful for the shift in direction, and send yourself a text message, saving your contact in his phone before handing it back, his fingers grazing your own. “I’d really like that.”

Students begin to file in and get seated around the auditorium as you stand with Bucky.

You turn to grab your bag and your coffee cup, then face him again. You glance around and notice you’re still relatively alone, most of the students have sat toward the middle of the auditorium, and no eyes seem to be on you, but you keep your voice low anyway.

“And I do get it if you really want to go slow here, but, if you want to…ya know, try this,” you raise your brows, hoping to communicate your meaning, “again, tonight, I’d be up for that, too.”

He nods, a schoolboy smile on his lips as he admires you.

Your lips twitch with a smile of their own, “I’ll see you later.”

You feel a renewed giddiness as you turn from him and he returns your ‘bye’. His eyes are on you as you make your way down the steps and follow you until he can’t any further. You liked the feeling.

Call you crazy, but you think you just might be developing feelings for Bucky already as it is, despite not knowing much more than he seems to be a kind man, gentle, confident, insanely attractive…. You wouldn’t be surprised if this dinner solidified those feelings and more, even further. You’re looking forward to talking with him, really getting to know him.

You may not be one for sex with a stranger, but sex after the first date doesn’t sound too out there for you... Especially not when that date is with Bucky.

[basilthesnakingthing]

Yeah, I saw that definition on plurlpedia and it didn’t make much sense to me.

But . . thinking of myself like what I described might solve everything that’s wrong with me, actually.

Cause before I would think “I can’t control when I’m able to be productive, I just have to take advantage of it when doing something feels doable. But even then, I can’t control what sort of things I can be productive about. Art? Better than nothing, but it does ultimately feel selfish and self destructive of me at once when I haven’t seemed to be able to do almost any homework this whole semester and that job application is still blank. Why am I so helpless about what I can do, when? Even other ADHD people manage, like. There are things they can do to make it work. But there aren’t for me, not besides someone being in the room, interested in what I’m doing. And that’s not practical enough to be a real solution, nobody who cares has time to do that with me.”

But now that I’ve realized what I did in my last reblog, it’s more like “there are different versions of me, and each one has things they’re really good at, and things they want and some things they just can’t do. One of them can do art! And write, and work on ideas I thought of! It really likes explaining things and theoretical stuff and talking to friends. But in order to work on anything out of obligation, anything that I would be doing because I know I should, like cleaning my room or taking care of myself physically, doing nice things for other people or my homework, I have to switch and become this other version of me who doesn’t seem to suffer from executive dysfunction for some reason, and can do any of those tasks happily. That version finds that sort of thing very satisfying. But it’s the only version who can do things like that.”

I what feels like “me” is the sum of all four versions and their behaviors. But if I only think of it like that, my abilities are priorities seem so inconsistent and broken. I wonder if cultivating more separation would help. If it’s different entities with different abilities and priorities, than it won’t be inconsistent, and know I just have to be deliberate about switching. (Which, intuitively, seems like it would be easier to do if there was more separation)

Made a plural version of that one meme

[signanothername]

I– I need to ask.

HOW DO YOU DO THIS?? Like, share your thoughts with everyone. Because I've been working on my universe for about three years now, AND I STILL FEEL LIKE IT'S NOT READY. At the same time, I’m still afraid to share these things...

So. How do you do it?D:

Alright my answer will seem a bit harsh and/or cruel, but know that I mean it in the most kind, genuine, and gentle way possible, i just don’t know how to word it any other way

With that in mind

Anon, you’re never going to be ready to share it, and the fear will always linger, you will never be 100% confident of what you share

And that’s ok

Again, I know that i make it seem super easy, but I promise that I’m just as afraid to share my ideas as anyone else (I’m a perfectionist, and that also contributes to my fear to share things)

It’s just, I think of it this way

I have an idea, and I got two choices

Either

1- I keep overthinking it, and succumb to my worries and fears when it comes to my idea, and keep my ideas with me, never to see the light of day

Or

2- I acknowledge that I’m afraid, acknowledge that my idea might not be perfect or ready, acknowledge that there might be flaws that I will probably notice later and even feel stupid about it, and still share my ideas anyway regardless of the voice in my head telling me to “wait a little more”

I usually go for choice number 2

The art and writing process is complicated, it’s so not easy to write something and feel ready to share it, no matter how much time it takes, you will never ever feel truly and utterly ready to share it, you’ll have that worry in your mind that maybe it’s stupid, or incomplete, or inconsistent or whatever else

And guess what? Sometimes, the worried voice in your head is completely right

But what matters is how you tackle it

Even if you share an idea, remember that you can always change your mind about it, you can absolutely go back and say, I don’t like that idea anymore and so I’ll remove/ change/ replace it

Ideas are never set in stone, you change and grow as a person as so do your ideas, they grow and change with you as you learn more and more, and sometimes they don’t, they don’t change at all, and that’s ok too

You can’t keep worrying about whether the story or idea you’re working on is ready or complete, because all you’re going to do is just walk around in circles and end up never sharing anything at all

It’s ok to be worried, but you can’t let your worries control you, of course, it’s not easy to ignore your worries, but it’s better than feeling stuck with your ideas

I myself do deal with these worries a lot, most of the time i just tell my brain “shut up” and share my ideas anyway, other times my worries do get the best of me and i tend to keep some ideas to myself

But sharing your ideas is actually essential for you to actually be able to work on them and refine them, because people might start asking questions or giving really good feedback that you actually sit with yourself to think about

But what if they ask you a question and you don’t know the answer to it? That’s actually a good thing, it’ll make you sit down and think of how to connect the dots and answer it, not only does it mean you’re actually making progress on your story/ideas, but these kinda questions help you understand different perspectives and by that, you learn and grow in your writing

It’s ok to be worried and to keep ideas to yourself sometimes, but don’t let them fester, because believe me, eventually your passion is gonna burn out because you kept overthinking it to the point it became just a worry than something you enjoy doing

In fact, to give you a bit of motivation, imma actually share one of the ideas I never shared cause I was afraid it’ll be a bit stupid and out of character

And I’m very worried about sharing it, but fuck my worry I do what I want

Remember when I mentioned Dream received one gift from Nightmare, and never received anything after? My idea for that gift was an echo flower he gave Dream, and it echoes one thing “I love you”

There, I shared it ouuughh the stress of sharing it is killing me actually, but I mean I can keep worrying about it forever, or actually share it and refine it later if I wanted, I choose the latter

And your ideas are never going to be perfect anyway, but you can improve them with time, even after sharing them

That’s all I do really shzggz

So go out there and start sharing anon, fuck anxiety, you can do whatever you want, you’re unstoppable

[alba1221141]

Mary Janes

.˳·˖✶𓆩𓁺𓆪✶˖·˳.☁︎

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿︵

8

(T.W Sexual content)

Y/N

I feel the weight of Cait’s gaze on me even as we get into position for the drills. The tension is still thick, clinging to the air around us. I can’t shake the feeling that I’ve let her down, but at the same time, something inside me rebels against her judgment. I’m not the same person I was yesterday, and I’m not sure if I can—or even want to—go back.

The sound of sneakers on the gym floor and Coach’s sharp instructions snap me out of my thoughts. I focus on the drills, pushing my body to keep moving, to not think too hard about the conversation that’s left a weird knot in my chest.

I glance over at Cait once more, but this time, she’s already looking away, her posture stiff, arms crossed over her chest. She’s not glaring anymore, but the distance between us is still there. It’s strange, how something as small as eyeliner can shift the way someone looks at you, and even stranger how it makes me question everything about myself.

Mel’s voice cuts through the silence, her usual easygoing tone filling the space between us. “You know, Cait’s just worried about you.” Her words are softer now, less guarded than they were earlier.

“I know,” I reply quietly, not meeting her eyes. “It’s just… I’m tired of playing it safe all the time.”

Mel gives me a small smile, like she gets it, even if she doesn’t say anything more.

The drills drag on, but my mind keeps wandering back to Cait’s disapproval, to the small voice inside me that wonders if maybe she’s right. Maybe I’m getting in over my head with all of this. But at the same time, I can’t shake the feeling that I’m closer to something real, something that’s mine.

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿︵‿

Jinx

As per the request of my favorite nerd, I’ve been reading some good old Shakespeare.

I’m supposed to be diving into Romeo and Juliet. Star-crossed lovers, epic tragedy, all that jazz. It should be interesting, right?

But the words are swimming in front of me because, let’s face it, I can’t concentrate for shit.

Not after this morning.

Y/N just looked so fucking pretty.

It’s ridiculous how she doesn’t even try, yet manages to ruin me without saying a word.

The way her hair fell around her face, a little messy but still perfect, and those big, thoughtful eyes that always seem to see right through me.

And that eyeliner—my eyeliner—that I practically begged her to let me do. Seeing my work on her face, sharp and bold, was enough to drive me insane.

Like a little piece of me was with her, walking around, unshakable.

And then there’s the way she blushed when I teased her.

That soft pink creeping up her cheeks, her lips parting like she wanted to say something but couldn’t find the words.

Makes me want to press closer, push her boundaries just a little more, see how far I can take it before she pushes back.

Or maybe she wouldn’t push back at all.

What would she be like?

I’ve never seen her with anyone—guy or girl. Hell, does she even like girls?

The thought twists in my chest.

What if she doesn’t?

What if all the teasing, the lingering glances, the way her cheeks flush when I get too close—it’s just her being her, too sweet to tell me to fuck off? But then, what if it’s not?

What if she does?

I wonder what she’d do with one. What she’d do with me.

Do to me.

My hand trails down.

Down.

"Fuck,"

I'm already soaked.

I wiggle out the dampened underwear quickly, and toss it somewhere.

Doesn't matter where, oh fuck.

I lock eyes with myself in the mirror as I spread my legs, as wide as they can go.

Fuck, what has she done to me?

My lipstick’s a mess, smeared from where my teeth dug in.

My thighs are trembling and I haven't even touched... anything yet...

Normally i would just get myself off, quick easy, but Y/N wouldn't do that.

I'm sure she'd been curious, the girl's definitely never seen a pussy before, and I'm not sure any of her books have those lewd acts in them.

My finger slowly circles my clit, fuck that's good.

Gonna go slow.

Y/N would go slow.

My head drops back on my pillow as I resume those slow, slow circles.

God it's torturous.

My unoccupied hand, somehow, finds its way to my tit, totally unprompted.

"Fuck,"

The words barley there this time.

My teeth sink into my lower lip again when I slip a finger inside of me.

Gentle, slow.

Then another finger.

I keep my eyes trained on my reflection as I start those motions.

In out, in out.

"Fuck, fuck, Y/N," I turn my face into my pillow, whimpering now.

I bite down on the pillow to supress my lewd noises.

My hips move with my hand, chasing that sweet, sweet, release.

Fuck what would she do if she could see this.

See the state she's made me into, all squirmy on my bed.

She'd probably get that wide eyed look.

Maybe she'd whimper-

Oh if she damn whimpered-

My thoughts are cut short by a practically pornographic noise ripping from my throat.

"Oh, oh god,"

The noises leaving me gradually become more incoherent.

I can't keep my eyes open anymore, those familiar white spots starting to cloud my vision.

I've had orgasms before, of course I have.

But this was fucking earth shattering.

I don't know if it was the thought of her, those wide eyes, that blush, that spurred me on or what, but my back arched right of the bed, what was practically a cry leaving my mouth.

After regaining function of my senses, I lock eyes with my reflection.

Fuck I look a mess.

I lean closer to the mirror, squinting at the mess.

Jesus Christ.

Smudged eyeliner, streaks of lipstick—no, stains, because apparently, my mouth decided it wanted to eat the damn tube.

"Goddamn," I hiss, swiping at it with my thumb. It just smears more. Great. Now I look like a clown that got into a bar fight.

My hair’s a disaster too—sticking to my forehead in sweaty clumps.

I rake a hand through it, but it’s hopeless. I look like I’ve been... well, doing exactly what I was doing.

The chill of the room finally hits me.

Oh, right.

Still butt-ass naked. My eyes dart around for anything to throw on and land on an oversized hoodie draped over the chair.

Good enough.

I yank it over my head, the fabric catching on my damp skin, and flop back onto my bed.

The hoodie clings to me, sticking uncomfortably in places, but I don’t have the energy to care.

My legs are sprawled out, the hem of the hoodie riding up enough to make it clear I’m not bothering with underwear.

I stare at the ceiling, trying to will my brain into some semblance of order.

It doesn’t work.

My thoughts are still a chaotic mess, flitting between random nonsense and her.

Always back to her.

Her laugh. Her stupid, perfect laugh that’s like sunshine and honey and all that other cheesy shit people write poetry about.

Her eyes—soft, but sharp when she’s focused, like she’s solving the universe one thought at a time.

And that little wrinkle she gets between her brows when she’s concentrating too hard?

Yeah, that one’s burned into my brain. Thanks for that, Y/N.

I groan, rolling onto my side and dragging a pillow over my face. “You’re pathetic,” I mumble into the fabric.

.˳·˖✶𓆩𓁺𓆪✶˖·˳.☁︎

authors note: another short chapter, but i felt it was quite important to have certain bits as their own entity, hope you like it ;)

please like and reblog!

[brittle-doughie]

(Bro I feel like Blood Orange would actually hunt me down for what I’m about to do)

Ok so I thought of a funny scenario but I have NO idea how this can go. So hear:

Y/N: “ah, I’m sorry Princess Cookie. But I can’t go to the ball at the Hollyberry Palace.”

Princess: “*gasp* why?? D-did something happen? Did we do something you didn’t like?? Why??”

Y/N: “well, uhhh-“

???: “Y/N dear!”

???: “thank goodness, thought I lost you there for a second.”

Y/N: “oh no need to worry, I’m just talking to a friend.”

???: “oh, then do forgive my intrusive then.”

Arancia Vino?: “My name is Arancia Vino Cookie, one of the head scientists in the Crème republic.”

Princess: “…uh… Hi. Your uhhhh…”

Arancia Vino?: “tall? Weird looking?”

Princess: “y-yeah. I never met a cookie as… strange as you.”

Arancia Vino?: “I get that a lot. I do sometimes wonder how I even got a body such as this. It’s not every day you see some cookie with a humanoid appearance.”

Princess: “I can imagine.”

Y/N: “welp, you two seem to be getting along. But we have places to be.”

Arancia Vino: “right, it was nice meeting you.”

Princess: “you too, hope you have a good day…”

Princess(internally): “Who TF is she?? Why is she with Y/N? How is she so tall? What’s with that body?? Is she even a girl?!”

Y/N: “well that was fun.”

Arancia Vino?: “yeah… question.”

Arancia Vino(Blood Orange): “how long do I have to keep up this act? If someone, witches be damned the cult, found out about this, it won’t end well.” 

Y/N: “….just until my back is fixed. I don’t want another bear hug to be put in the hospital.”

‘Arancia Vino’ : “fair point. Let’s just head over to the party. I’ve always wondered what Cheesecakes parties were like.”

Y/N: “trust me, they’re to die for.”

‘Arancia Vino’: “I’ll see for myself.”

Me after doing all this:

…yeah, I should probably explain: Blood Orange Cookies body is basically a mix of a male and female body exaggerated. It’s also why he wears baggy pants (mostly because I’m slightly uncomfortable with that detail but I don’t want to change it.)

Blood Orange is just full of surprises, god damn. No wonder Princess Cookie was so flabbergasted.

[mylovesstuffs]

Entry #02

24.01.2025 - 02:52

The fact that so many people here feel self-conscious and insecure about their smiles breaks my heart. It’s disheartening, to say the least. I know I’m here trying to comfort you all, but reading your responses makes me feel a little lighter though I know it’s cruel of me to admit. I usually don’t like to be vulnerable, not online and definitely not in public, but for your sake, and because I understand how it feels, I’ll share why I feel that way.

It’s because I’m insecure too.

To the point where COVID was a relief for me because wearing masks in public became normalized. From 2020 to 2025, I’ve been wearing a mask every single day and I'm not exaggerating.

To the point where my friends unmask me once every two months (because I don't unmask every time they want) just so they don’t forget what I look like.

To the point where I only have 12 unmasked photos of myself as a teenager.

To the point where I’ve become known as “the mask girl.”

To the point where people shame me for wearing a mask indoors and outdoors.

To the point where I’m often targeted or pressured by others to unmask myself.

To the point where my juniors have never even seen my face.

But what really hit me is realizing so many of you feel insecure about your smiles. I thought I was alone in this. For me, it’s my smile too. It’s something I’ve struggled with for as long as I can remember. It surprises me because, to me, I’ve never seen a bad smile in my entire life. Not one. Truly. People even make fun of me for finding everyone attractive and beautiful, but I do! Everyone is unique in their own way. I genuinely think everyone is unique and beautiful. What you see in the mirror isn’t what others see. People see you differently than you see yourself, they see beauty where you might not. Yet here I am, telling you this, even though I can’t seem to believe it about myself or apply it in my life. I hate my smile. I hate it to the point that I avoid it entirely. And it hurts even more because my own father has been the one to point it out. My family knows how sensitive I am about it, and they go out of their way to avoid making me feel worse. But my father doesn’t realize this. He’s told me outright several times not to smile or laugh with my teeth showing (as if I could laugh any other way).

It broke me. To know that everyone around me understood that except him. To him, it’s not a big deal. To him, he's oblivious. Though I know he has a bit of a narcissistic personality but it's not that bad. Laughing and smiling are involuntary, natural expressions of joy or amusement—things that happen without much thought. So to tell me not to smile or laugh feels deeply unfair, even cruel, when you think about it. I’ve been made to feel self-conscious about even being happy. But at the same time, I know he isn’t intentionally trying to hurt me. He’s just oblivious to how deeply his words affect me. And that’s the tricky part, isn’t it? People often don’t realize how their comments especially about something as personal as physical appearance can linger. The logical side of me knows he doesn’t mean harm. But the emotional side of me can’t help but feel the weight of those words. It’s a reminder that even the people closest to us, the ones we expect to understand us best, can sometimes miss the mark entirely.

So yeah, I guess that’s why I felt a strange sense of comfort knowing that others feel this way too. It’s not something we can always control, but maybe it’s something we can learn to embrace. And from the bottom of my heart, I know that if SEVENTEEN ever knew about this, they’d be the first to hug us. As their fans, their friends, or someone even closer to them, they’d want us to know how special we are. How beautiful we are. They’d remind us that our smiles—the ones we hate—are the ones that light up their world. Insecurities often feel like a big deal to us, even if others might think they're trivial or wonder why we're bothered by them. But the truth is, insecurities are deeply personal and sensitive, and because of that, we should really be kind and understanding toward one another.

You’re not alone. And you are so, so much more beautiful than you think.

OT13 reacting to their s/o who loves smiles but feels insecure about showing their teeth

Request: Halooo I am the same anon that req wisdom tooth drabble!!! So can I req for svt ot13 s/o that love smile but never showed their teeth cause they're insecure with it?? I do have an open bite and I do be jealous w ppl that can smile with their normal teeth 🥲🥲 Also can I be ur ⭐️ anon??

A/N: This is dedicated to all kinds of smiles—big, small, toothy, closed, crooked, or perfectly aligned. It’s easy to compare ourselves to others, especially when society has such rigid standards for something as personal as a smile. But the truth is, the world isn’t looking for perfect smiles; it’s looking for your smile—the one that lights up the people around you, the one that reflects your joy, and the one that makes you you. Whether you’re someone who shows off their teeth confidently or someone who keeps their smiles shy, you are absolutely radiant just the way you are. I hope this reaction brings you warmth, and maybe even a little courage to embrace your smile, because SEVENTEEN and I think it’s the best one there is. Thank you for reading, and remember: your smile is a gift, not just to you but to everyone lucky enough to see it! 💛

I definitely encourage you to read everyone's part, especially Minghao's.

Seungcheol: Cheol would notice right away how you always smile with your lips closed. He’d encourage you without pushing too hard, so you’d catch him saying things like, “I love it when you smile—it’s my favorite thing about you.” And when you explain why you’re self-conscious, his protective mode kicks in. In his mind, you’re perfect exactly as you are. He’d make a habit of kissing your forehead after every smile, as if to say, Thank you for sharing this with me. Warm, comforting, and always your biggest cheerleader.

Jeonghan: Jeonghan is a tease—but in the sweetest way possible. He’d catch you hiding your teeth and tease you playfully about how even your shy smile could start a fan club. But deep down, he’d be the FIRST to remind you that nobody’s smile is ‘wrong’. He’d even come up with ridiculous scenarios like, “If anyone says anything about your teeth, I’ll report them to Smile Security.” Sure, it’s dramatic, but somehow it’s comforting. With him, you’d slowly start to see your smile through his eyes: bright, genuine, and absolutely worth showing off.

Joshua: Shua’s the ‘patient and reassuring’ type. He’d never rush you into anything but would always make it known how much he loves your smile—whether or not it shows your teeth. He’d probably sit with you one evening and casually mention how he used to be insecure about something too, just to remind you that everyone has their struggles. The way he’d look at you every time you smiled? Pure love and admiration. Slowly but surely, you’d start feeling like, Maybe my smile isn’t so bad after all.

Jun: Junhui wouldn’t even let you finish explaining your insecurity before he’d start showering you with compliments. He’d be so sweet and genuine about it too, like, “What? But your smile is so pretty! Have you seen yourself?” He’d probably find little ways to make you smile more, through goofy antics or heartfelt gestures. The best part? He’d never let you feel like you had to change—he loves your smile, whether it’s teeth-showing or not. And his genuine enthusiasm? It’s impossible not to feel a little brighter around him.

Hoshi: Hoshi would make it his personal mission to see your biggest, toothiest smile. He’s dramatic like that. He'd do the silliest things to make you laugh, like impersonating the other members or dancing in the weirdest ways (mind you he's performance team leader TT). When you finally let out a full smile, he’d stop mid-act and just stare. “Wow. That’s the one. That’s the smile that could light up a stadium.” And you’d know he’s not exaggerating (even though he’s Hoshi and exaggerates everything). It’s just how he loves—with his whole heart. I'm feeling soft :(

Wonwoo: He’d notice your insecurities but wouldn’t bring them up directly. Instead, would focus on making you comfortable and appreciated. He’d probably start complimenting you in subtle ways, like, “Your smile is really nice,” or “You look happiest when you smile.” Over time, his steady reassurance would make you feel less self-conscious. And when you finally smile without holding back, he’d just give you that soft, proud look, as if to say, See? I knew it was beautiful.

Woozi: Woozi would be a mix of logical and sweet about it. He’d listen to your reasons and then quietly debunk every single one of them, like, “Who said teeth have to be perfect to make a smile beautiful? That’s nonsense.” He’d focus more on how your smile makes him feel—happy, loved, and lucky to know you. And if you ever caught him sneaking a photo of you smiling? Just know it’s because he wants to remember how happy you looked in that moment.

Dokyeom: Oh boy, Seokmin would be all over this. He lives for smiles, especially yours. He’d probably start a whole campaign to make you feel better about it, complete with compliments, funny jokes, and random bursts of Look at that gorgeous smile! energy. You’d have no choice but to smile around him because he’s just that infectious. And when you finally let out a toothy grin, he’d gasp like, “I KNEW IT! YOU HAVE THE BEST SMILE IN THE WORLD!” Dramatic? Yes. Effective? Absolutely.

Mingyu: Kim Mingyu, the man he is, would be the type to go above and beyond to make you feel good about your smile. He’d start by complimenting you constantly and taking candid photos where you look natural and happy. Then, he’d show them to you like, “Look at this—your smile could cure my bad days.” He’d probably even bring it up to the members like, “Isn’t her smile the best thing ever?” And when you roll your eyes at him, he’d just grin and say, “See? Even your eyeroll smile is perfect.” AHHGHTCGTCGCFFCCT

Minghao: Hao would be supportive and no-nonsense. He’d listen to your insecurities, acknowledge your feelings, and then remind you that nobody’s perfect. “Imperfections make us human,” he’d say, and it would somehow hit deeper than you expected. He’d probably encourage you to focus on how your smile feels rather than how it looks, and over time, his grounded perspective would help you see your smile in a whole new light. With him (with others too), you’d start to appreciate the beauty in being uniquely you.

Seungkwan: Seungkwan would be the loudest advocate for your smile. “Are you kidding me!” He’d probably start hyping you up every time you smiled, to the point where it becomes impossible not to feel confident about it. And if anyone dared to say something negative about your teeth? Oh, he’d drag them to filth, no hesitation I'm telling you. With Seungkwan in your corner, you’d never have to doubt your smile again.

Vernon: He would be ridiculously sweet. He’d casually drop comments like, “Your smile’s cool,” and then act like it’s no big deal—when really, he’s melting inside every time he sees it. He’d never pressure you to show your teeth but would secretly be over the moon whenever you did. And the way he’d look at you in those moments? Pure adoration. Honestly, he’d make you feel like the coolest person in the world, open bite or not.

Dino: Chan would be all about boosting your confidence. He’d give you a pep talk about how unique smiles are the best smiles and how yours is his favorite thing about you. He’d hype you up so much that you’d almost feel like a celebrity. And when you finally smiled without holding back, he’d act like it’s the greatest thing he’s ever seen. “That’s it! That’s the smile that could rules my heart!” That’s just how much he cares.

[aventurineswife]

The Herta's Voicelines about her S/O

Requested by: @queeremogurl

A/N: I hope you like this!!

Aventurine's ver | Ratio's ver | Sunday's ver | Luka's ver | Kaveh's ver | Shadow's (OC) ver

The Enigma of Them

Ah, them. Quite an intriguing specimen, aren't they? I never expected someone with so much... unquantifiable charm. It makes me question my own understanding of connection. But it’s precisely because of their unpredictability that I find them fascinating.

First Meeting: Unexpected Encounter

The first time I met them, I was... intrigued. They certainly didn’t seem like the type to fit neatly into my carefully constructed theories. There was something—dare I say it—entirely human about them. But I must admit, I wasn’t expecting their brilliance. It took me a moment to accept that, perhaps, I was not the only genius in the room.

First Date: Surprising Delight

Our first date, if you can even call it that, was a rather... unexpected delight. I thought it would be a mere formality—an exchange of information, a brief distraction. But they surprised me, as they always do. Their ability to blend warmth and wit with intellectual discourse? It’s an art form. I didn’t realize how pleasant that could be.

Thinking About Them: Uncontrollable Fascination

I often find myself lost in thought about them. They’re a strange paradox—a perfect blend of intellect and emotion, something I never thought I’d find so... distracting. They possess a curiosity I can’t help but admire, even if it does sometimes challenge my own. It’s almost as though they’ve made a science of capturing my attention.

Favorite Times Spent With Them: Cherished Moments

There are few moments I treasure as much as when we’re alone together, lost in a shared puzzle or debate. The way they think—so differently from anyone I’ve encountered—has a peculiar allure. But it’s not just that. It’s the way they make the ordinary feel extraordinary. I suppose, in a way, I treasure every second spent with them. Even if I never quite admit that to their face.

Plans for the Future: Endless Possibilities

Future plans? Hm. It’s difficult to say. I’m certain that they’ll accompany me in whatever mind-bending venture I embark on, though. After all, I’m certain they’ll find the same joy I do in unraveling the very fabric of existence. Whether it’s exploring the deepest corners of the cosmos or simply enjoying a quiet moment, I imagine they’ll be there... possibly making it more interesting than it has any right to be.

Unshakable Trust

I trust them more than I trust most. That in itself is a strange admission, considering my penchant for total intellectual independence. But there's something about them—a sincerity, an understanding. When they look at me, it’s not through the lens of expectation or judgment. It’s... refreshing. Almost as though they see me, not just the image I’ve constructed for the universe.

Irreplaceable

Perhaps I’ve made an error in judgment, allowing them so close. But when the brilliance of their mind and the warmth of their spirit intersect... well, I’m not inclined to let go. I’ll be watching closely—of course. But I trust them more than anyone else.

[jaggedamethyst]

circuit breaker 🔬🌌 (part five)

tutor!jayce talis x reader, ekko x reader college au

content: after what happened, jayce is committed to helping you learn the physics material. even if it means daily sessions and spreading himself extremely thin.

harsh language (cursing, off-hand kms jokes), jayce mom angst, actual physics but I hope it makes sense…I swear I chose relatively simple concepts!! (If you need more context for the graph Jayce made, legit just google physics electron progression 1s 1p and a chart with arrows should come up on google) 

notes: might fuck around and post the next part asap because its that good

word count: 1.9k

series master list

。·:*:·ﾟ★,。·:*:·ﾟ☆　　 。·:*:·ﾟ★,。·:*:·ﾟ☆

Somehow the next week was even more stressful than the last few. With the looming stress of this week’s quiz and the strenuous schedule Jayce had you on—you were beginning to wonder if these study sessions were even going to pay off. 

He agreed to meet at your place. He’d show up every day, on the dot, supplies in hand. The happy expression on his face made you feel optimistic at first. You were ready to take on physics with a new level of confidence.

That was Monday.

By Wednesday, Jayce’s upbeat mood and cheery outlook just drained you even more. When Thursday came around, one day before the quiz, you were sure you were at your limit. 

“Hi, Jayce.” You spoke in monotone, opening the door before he could even knock. You turned away from him, allowing him to step into your apartment and close the door himself. 

He poked at your disinterested tone. “Someone’s in a good mood.”

“Yes, well I think that I’ve consumed enough physics this week that I might be reincarnated as Bohr…but that’s fine.” You stalked to your room, “That’s assuming my brain cells aren’t stuck in their own orbits or whatever the fuck.”

“Wait,” he paused in the middle of the hall leading to your room. 

“What?” 

“You…just made a physics joke.” He pointed to you, his tone increasing in amazement. “And it actually made sense-“ 

“It should.” You turned away from him, continuing into your room. “If I have to hear about atomic structure, valence electrons, or nucleus-es any more I might kill myself.” 

“Nuclei.” 

“Huh?” You pulled out the chair at your desk, allowing space for him to sit at the chair next to yours. 

He sat beside you, grabbing your notebook. He flipped to a fresh page as he spoke, “Nuclei is the plural…for when you mean more than one nucleus.” 

“Not to be that person but I think we may have bigger fish to fry than my grammar, Jayce.” 

“You’re right.” He rubbed his hands together, “Where should we start?” 

“Well we left off with electron configuration. I understand the concept…kind of…but I can’t remember all of these damn numbers. The pattern is weird.” 

Jayce reached toward the floor, seeing some of the papers from the previous day still thrown about. He grabbed one with the electron chart—clearly marked with notes and color coordinated to help you remember. 

“I think its best we start with this…if you’re trying to remember and do the problem at the same time you won’t understand it.” He slid the paper in front of you, setting it aside from the book. He then reached for another paper he’d bought—a worksheet. “Here’s some more examples for you to work on. Why don’t you try the first one like we practiced?”

You whined a bit, “Do I have to?” 

“Do you want to get a good grade?” 

You paused, snatching the pencil from the table. “Just because you have a good point doesn’t mean I like it.” 

He remained silent, stifling a laugh. He looked over your shoulder, watching you work out the questions. Somehow you’d made an already long question exponentially longer—working through a method that seemed to work for you. It of course tacked on extra minutes to each problem, though.

“How’s this?” You looked to Jayce for approval. 

“This is…” His eyes scanned your writing. Among the many cross outs and faint eraser marks was not a correct answer, but one extremely close. “This is almost right. You just messed up at the end here.” 

“What? No way-“ You looked at his finger pointing between the chart and your work, spotting the error. “Oh…I see what I did wrong.” 

“Good…wanna try and fix it?” 

You didn’t make direct eye contact, but honed in on the paper—encouraged to get the correct answer. He lingered over your movements with a watchful eye until you were done. 

“Okay…how about now?” You held the book out to Jayce.

“Amazing.” 

“But you didn’t check-“ 

“I did—watched you do the whole thing.” 

You turned to Jayce, “Sure you did.” 

“No, really.” He pushed the notebook back to you. “In fact, I think you’re ready to do three of these.” 

“You sure?” 

He nodded, pushing the materials back in a group for you to work on. “You got this.” 

Jayce sat silently again, catching the way you’d twisted your lips in concentration. Your grip on the pencil was harsh, the wood pressing into your skin in a way he was sure should hurt. Even so, you didn’t give up. The process became longer than he expected. His vision started to blur, his focus becoming less sharp, but he stayed watching. 

Eventually, you turned to him, several minutes having passed. To both of your surprise, you did rather well. Jayce traced over your handwriting, noting the simple mistakes you needed to keep an eye out for. You nodded alongside him, physically writing down the notes he gave you. Before you continued, you decided on a quick break. 

“I’m gonna go grab something to drink, do you want anything?” 

“No,” Jayce yawned suddenly, “I’m good.” He moved to rub his eyes, sorting through some of the papers that had found their way to the floor. He turned a bit, watching you leave the room. 

You rounded the corner, beelining for the refrigerator and cabinets for a snack—you needed fuel immediately.

With an inhale, you leaned back into the kitchen countertop. Truthfully, you were feeling a bit more confident now, but if you were feeling drained you could only imagine Jayce. You made quick work of grabbing a few more snacks for him and a bottle of water before heading back to the room. 

Before crossing the threshold, you froze—the sound of light snores filled the room. 

Jayce had fallen asleep. 

A crooked smile found a way to your lips, the sight of him admittedly being very cute. Despite him being asleep, his lashes fluttered a bit. His lips parted and let out the sound of his breath. In an occurrence that should provide him comfort, intensity still lingered in his brows; they were pinched together in worry. You didn’t miss the way his lip would occasionally twitch—fighting off the pain that lived in him. 

With a quick motion, you quietly set the things you’d grabbed to the side. Making sure you stepped lightly—you swung open the closet and grabbed a blanket to lay over him. You gulped at the action, not even giving it a second thought. The thought left you just as quickly as it had appeared, your feet moving you back toward your desk and open notebook. 

Your eyes scanned over your work and the example problems pensively—immediately feeling an overwhelming sensation fill you. Your palms began to sweat, fingers and hands shaking in front of you. A slow blink and deep breath allowed you to calm yourself, enough to grab your pencil and start in on the example problems. Jayce turned then, still sleeping but fidgeting a bit. You had to try to do this—on your own. 

For a while, you worked on the problems only, afraid to crosscheck for the answers. Eventually, you’d grown confidence to check. There were a few you’d gotten wrong, circling back to check what you did incorrectly with a motivated scribble. Others, you’d gotten right, though. A warm feeling sat inside you, a pride over finally understanding the material. 

Beside you, Jayce started to stir before quickly sitting up in panic. “Fuck, when did I fall asleep?” 

You looked to your left, the clock hanging above. “Like an hour ago.” 

“Why didn’t you wake me up? I’m supposed to be helping you.” He moved to stand, folding the blanket you’d placed over him. 

“Figured you could use the down time.” 

He moved closer to the chair, watching you lean your head up to look at him. His shoulders slumped at the optimism in your gaze. “I feel like I’m fucking this up.” He drew in a dramatic breath, “Am I a bad tutor?” 

You pushed the chair back a bit, letting him look at your self-graded work. “You tell me.” 

His eyes raked over the paper, bending over the blanket in his grasp. He took his time surveying all the written out problems. His nostrils flared when he would let out an amused chuckle at the ones you went back to fix. He leaned away, “You’re pretty smart, huh?” 

“Well,” You stood, grabbing the blanket from him. “I have a not so bad tutor.” 

Jayce folded his arms, “Right.” 

You turned to put the blanket away. When you got back to your desk, you gestured for Jayce to find his seat next to yours again. As the two of you were finally sat, Jayce spoke up. 

“So,” he cleared his throat, “How are you feeling? I mean, like mental health wise. I know it’s been a lot.” 

“I think…I’m working on it.” You nodded, “As best as I can.” 

“That’s good. You should be proud.” 

“Thank you, I try to be.” You swallowed, seeming to look off into the distance. The quietness of the room made you want to speak to fill it. “How’s your mom?” 

Jayce watched you grimace at the abrupt question, but felt grateful you asked. “She’s okay. I spend a lot of time with her—helping and doing whatever she needs to feel comfortable.” He looks down at his hands in his lap. “Think it’s just a hard time for her, feeling herself be weak in a way she’s never been before.” 

You nodded then, looking at his downturned gaze. “I get that.” 

“I’m trying really hard to be what she needs me to be, whatever that looks like.” He readjusted, “Sometimes I think that’s a good student…to keep my grades up. Other times I think it’s to just be a good son…show up every day after class. It’s exhausting trying to figure it out.” 

“I can only imagine.” 

“It’s different with you though.” He jumped a bit at the way your head snapped to him. He spoke quickly, “I just mean that…I know what my purpose is. I can physically see you improving.” He rubbed his neck, “I’m not making sense am I?” 

You shook your head, “I’m attempting to follow-“ 

“I guess I should just thank you, then.” 

“Thank me? For what?” 

“For letting me help you. For letting me have a purpose outside of just student, son, friend, whatever.” He placed a hand on the desk in front of you, closing the gap between you. He finally let his eyes meet your again, a sincere look on his face. “Thank you.” 

A tight feeling ran through you, pushing from your chest outward. You didn’t break the eye contact, though. “I think you’re giving me too much credit, Jayce.” 

“I don’t think I give you enough.” 

A breath caught in your throat, suddenly overwhelmed by the lingering look Jayce had on you. The both of you stayed there, looking between one another’s eyes. Jayce’s movement forward was almost imperceptible; you wouldn’t have noticed had you not been studying every feature on him.

His phone dinged—piercing through the palpable tension in your room. He looked away, a reluctance in his motion. You looked toward the door in a huff, pushing away the feeling that had creeped up on you so quickly. 

“Sorry, it’s Mel.” 

“Oh,” you turned to him expectantly, “Do you need to go?” 

Without missing a beat he turned his phone face down and folded his hands in front of you. “Nope…I’m good here.” 

“Okay, then.” 

He slid the book from in front of you, splitting the distance. “Let’s get a better look at this amazing work you did.” 

Your tongue pushed on the inside of your cheek, the skin puffing out and heating at the praise. 

“Alright, then.” 

taglist

@juskonutoh @sseleniaa @aerina127 @sleepysoldier @angelicmisty @1800latenitecreep @venus-in-roses @myxticmoon @rando-no-5

[snowballseal]

My Dearest

Prologue

LaDS Zayne X Foreseer!Reader

Summary: You are the Foreseer, forced to live a near immortal life, gifted with the ability to see fate, yet cursed to live among mortals who hate the truth. In your bitterness, you retreat to the Tower of Thorns, where you find peace. That is, until a man appears on your door, a man on the brink of losing his future. Unless you choose to change his fate.

Disclaimer: This series will essentially be an AU, I am ignoring nearly all cannon, because screw it and SCREW ASTRA THAT-

Anways, enjoy this ~400 word intro of Foreseer!Reader hating mortals. ✌🏻

---

Not many venture to Mount Eternal.

It is a barren, frigid landscape, snow so deep that it snuffs out all flickers of life. Not even the sun can touch her jagged peaks.

Mortals call it an icy hell, but in truth, it is a force they cannot conquer. Even with their audacity. Even with their brash foolishness. They know better than to try and tame the vicious beast that is ice and death and snow. Even they are forced to recognize how powerless they are.

And perhaps that is why you have found your peace in Mount Eternal’s glacial depths.

Why you now call it home.

Here, it is just you and the Tower. No more performing, no more kings trying to force you under their thumb, only to throw a fit of rage when you do not bow. Afterall, the truth does not bow for anyone.

So it is here you have found your refuge. Away from the mortals. Away from their arrogance and manipulation. Even though they appear every few years, you find yourself growing comfortable, tucked away, living out your years in near blissful silence.

That is, perhaps, what you hated most about living among the mortals. The noise. Incessant. Overwhelming. They liken silence to death in a way that you could never comprehend, for it is in silence that you find your solace.

And that is exactly what the weathered, stone walls of the Tower offer a demigod like you. The Tower holds your silence so tenderly, like it knows how secretly fragile you are. In a way, you almost see it as your kin. It, like you, is trapped in a state of timeless-ness. Seemingly untouched, though if you look close enough you can see how worn it is, how humanity has used it. A tower of unknown origin, from an unknown time, forced to live in solitude lest it breaks.

While most find it eerie and uncomfortable, you can’t help but feel at peace in its grand halls. The cold marble seems to muffle your very thoughts, like the layer of snow outside can somehow quiet the thrum of magic that constantly pulses through your veins.

So you sit. You sit in the quietness of your home, the Tower of Thorns. You sit so still, that sometimes you forget that you’re even alive. Day after day. Year after year.

Until one day, you find your peace fractured..

All by one human.

---

Y'all, I am fired up for this one. I've had literal brain rot for months. And I know it's Caleb season, but Zayne still has me by the throat. You won't catch me slipping!

Anyways, D don't expect this to get a lot of attention, but I'm going to enjoy myself writing it! Hope my fellow Zayne girlies enjoy it too.

[yapihapi]

You’ve been the perfect student ever since kindergarten. The school has been blessed to have you—student leader, consistent top achiever, and the school’s pride in academic competitions. Medals, awards—you’ve brought home so many. You’ve always been outstanding.

But then Nagi transferred to your school. Suddenly, everything changed.

It felt like you were perpetually in second place, and no matter what you achieved, there was always this gnawing feeling of inadequacy.

Even when the list came out, showing that you scored higher than him, it didn’t feel like a win. He always did it so effortlessly.

You sat in the front row, dedicated, writing notes and reviewing endlessly. But when you glanced at Nagi in the back, you’d always catch him sleeping at his desk, oblivious to the world. It frustrated you to no end.

During quizzes and exams, he’d still get high marks, but his carefree attitude made it seem unfair. While you sacrificed sleep and poured every ounce of energy into studying, he simply coasted. Yet he remained unbothered, like he wasn’t trying at all.

You were jealous.

Nagi noticed your furrowed brows whenever your eyes met, but he didn’t understand why. You’d never even spoken to each other. To him, you were the model student—perfect, composed, and untouchable. But he was just that guy in the back of the class, minding his own business.

When midterms came, the pressure was unbearable. You spent endless hours reviewing and juggling your responsibilities. The weight of expectations, the relentless need to prove yourself—it consumed you.

Then came the exam day. You answered the test quickly, confident in your preparation. But as you handed in your paper, you noticed Nagi did the same, just minutes after you. You glanced at him in disbelief. Was he really that gifted, or was it luck?

As the class emptied, you stayed behind to pack your things. Nagi lingered too, his feet propped up on a chair, phone in hand, looking as relaxed as ever.

Then it happened—a sudden, warm sensation in your nose.

“Huh?” you muttered as you touched your upper lip. Blood.

Nagi furrowed his brows when he glanced at you. He put down his phone, grabbed tissues from his bag, and rushed to your side.

“Here,” he said softly, handing you the tissues.

You stared at him, startled by his uncharacteristic concern. He didn’t stop there. Gently, he guided you to the clinic, one hand lightly supporting your arm.

At the clinic, the nurse tended to you, cleaning you up and ensuring you were fine. Once everything was settled, you stepped out, adjusting your bag and ready to head home.

You stopped in your tracks when you saw him. Nagi was leaning against the wall just outside the clinic, a lollipop in his mouth. He wasn’t looking at you, his gaze lost somewhere on the ceiling, deep in thought.

You tried to walk past him, hoping to avoid an awkward interaction, but after a few steps, he spoke.

“Why do you despise me so much?”

You froze, his question hanging in the air. Slowly, you turned around, meeting his confused gaze.

“I don’t hate you,” you said coldly, though your voice wavered. “I’m… jealous of you.”

His confusion deepened. “Jealous?”

You sighed, the weight of your feelings spilling out. “You’re so good at academics, but you barely try. I work myself to exhaustion, and I still feel like it’s not enough. I can’t sleep, I can’t eat—I have to push myself because of the standards I’ve set. Then you come along, doing the bare minimum, and it makes me feel… small. Like I’m stupid.”

He blinked, stunned into silence.

“I just wanted to feel like I was enough,” you continued, voice trembling. “But when you showed up, it felt like I had to work even harder just to keep up. I’ve never felt this way before.”

Nagi scratched the back of his neck, unsure of what to say. “I… I’m sorry.”

“No, don’t be,” you replied quickly. “This is childish. I shouldn’t even feel this way.”

You turned to leave, but his hand caught your wrist.

“I didn’t mean to make you feel that way. Honestly, I kind of disliked you too at first. I thought you were just a spoiled rich girl who had everything handed to her. But I didn’t realize…” He trailed off, exhaling deeply. “You really do deserve the top spot. I don’t even care about ranks—” He paused, muttering to himself. “Why am I even explaining this?”

You gave a small nod, avoiding his gaze. “I see,” you said quietly, the bitterness still lingering in your voice as you turned away.

The rest of the school year didn’t go as you expected. Somehow, you and Nagi became close. He wasn’t as infuriating as you’d thought—laid-back, yes, but also oddly insightful in his own way. The tension between you hadn’t completely disappeared, but it had softened into something more tolerable, almost unspoken.

One afternoon, you found yourself sitting beside him on a bridge, both of your feet dangling over the edge.

“Do you always come here?” he asked, breaking the silence.

“Yeah,” you replied, staring at the horizon. “It helps me clear my mind.”

The golden sunlight bathed your face, softening your usually sharp features. For the first time, Nagi saw you relaxed—genuinely at peace.

He watched you, noticing details he’d overlooked before. The way your hair caught the sunlight, the faint curve of your lips when you smiled. It struck him.

“You know,” he said quietly, his voice almost a whisper, “I think you’re amazing. Not because of your grades or your accomplishments. Just… you.” He hesitated, his gaze softening. “But you should take care of yourself more. You push yourself so hard, and you don’t deserve to burn out trying to meet everyone else’s expectations.”

You turned to him, startled by his sincerity. His words lingered in the air, disarming you. For once, the competition didn’t matter. Sitting there with him, bathed in the warmth of the setting sun, you felt a sense of calm settle over you—a feeling you hadn’t experienced in a long time. It was strange, but for the first time, you didn’t feel the need to prove anything.

And maybe, just maybe, the one-sided rivalry had finally come to an end. It wasn’t about winning or losing anymore, but about understanding. You realized that chasing perfection wasn’t the only way to prove your worth, and perhaps Nagi wasn’t the antagonist you made him out to be. Instead, he was someone who challenged the way you saw yourself—someone who, without meaning to, helped you see things differently.

[cherryswisherz]

KARMIC BALANCE ✷ CHAPTER V

✷WARNINGS: cursing, pining??, farrah mentioned, xavia lore dropping, angst ✷NIYAH SPEAKS: computer fixed ayeeee!!! imma get to yalls requests now i pinky swear. idk when they'll be out but i gotchu

✦✦✦✦

SENIOR YEAR

“So, Ms. Johnson,” Paige smiles at me from her spot on the ground, “What does one do for Christmas in LA?”

The original plan for tonight was for our whole group to hang out before we all left to our hometowns. So it was KK, Azzi, Yanna, Jane and I. 

But of course, nothing ever goes to plan around here. Yanna and Jane went back to our place so Jane could finish packing. Azzi had to ‘take a phone call’ but she’d been in her room for almost an hour. And KK was supposed to be picking up the food, but she had been gone longer than Azzi. 

So it was just Paige and I, her on the ground building LEGO’s and me on the couch scrolling. It was a comfortable silence, but a silence that was begging to be broken. I guess Paige decided to be the one that broke it. 

“Well, Christmas is different in my house than it would be for your average Californian.” I set my phone down before folding my hands and sliding them under the blanket. “It’s more of a production than a holiday.”

I make it a point to never talk about my family’s dynamic with anyone here. I try my hardest for those two worlds to never meet, but for some reason, I trust that Paige will understand my situation better than anyone. I think to some extent, her life is as complex as mine is.

Paige seems ultimately unbothered by what I said. “Is your family one of those weird ones that has a 90ft tree and uses rare cloth to wrap presents?” She asks without ever taking her eyes off the project she’s working on. 

“Uh, kinda,” I start, “My parents are both surgeons and all four of my grandparents were doctors. My grandpa make like, a life changing discovery before my dad was born, and my grandma on my moms side was a pioneer for black women in the medical field,”

“Sound like some shit off Grey’s,” Paige chuckles and I can’t help but to join her, because it really does sound like some shit from Grey’s. 

“So obviously they were very successful and raised my parents to be just like them,”

“Of course.”

“So naturally, my parents are just like their parents and my grandparents are very proud of them, as they should be.” I throw my hands up, to let Paige know that I’m also proud of my parents, “But then they had me. And it was my parent’s turn to shape and mold their prodigy.”

“Right.” Paige nod’s her head like she’s following, still focused on the LEGO’s.

“Except I hate blood, and science has always been my weakest subject.”

She freezes for a second before turning her head to me, now paying full attention.

“So instead of a prodigy, they got a humanitarian who protests the cost of health insurance.”

Paige winces at my words, like she understands that there’s career shaped canyon between my parents and I. “Ouch,”

“Yeah so, back to Christmas,” I take a deep breath and let it out before answering her original question, “Every year, my parents throw this big party every year, bigger than the Thanksgiving one, and it’s filled with rich people who talk about making themselves richer.” 

I decide to leave out the part about me playing the piano and how a piece of me dies everytime I strike a chord. 

“Everyone asks me how school’s going and if I’m still majoring in Sociology and when I tell them ‘yes,’ they remind me that ‘the money isn’t great in social work’, and I have to pretend like I don’t want to scream that if I cared about money then I would still be using my parents money instead of busting my ass to pay my rent and keep my grades up so I don’t lose my scholarship.” 

Realizing that I’ve started rambling, I take another breath, closing my eyes and counting to three before I release it. And Paige doesn’t say anything. She just allows me this moment for myself, regardless of any questions she may have, and I appreciate more than she realizies. 

“Nobody gets why I don’t use my trust fund, or why I work when my parent’s would pay for everything.” I open my eyes and allow them to find Paige’s. 

She looks empathetic and confused and it makes me want to run away and never see her again, but also tell her all my secrets, hopes and dreams at the same time. 

Funny, right?

“Why don’t you?” she asks.

I think about my answer for a second, trying to put it in the best way I can. How do you explain to someone that if you wanted to, you could have everything you wanted, but to get everything you want, you have to be everything you never want to be? How do you explain that you know from firsthand experience that money doesn’t buy happiness?

“Because then they’d have control over me.” I speak slowly, not sure if it makes sense to me, let alone Paige. “They’d hold the money over my head so that I would have no choice but to be exactly who they want me to be. And I’d rather live the life that I do, than pretend to be something I’m not.”

The irony in my statement isn’t lost one me. 

Rich girl want to change the world by refusing to take Mommy and Daddy’s money.

Cliche, I know. But I don’t want to change the world by not taking their money. I’d gladly accept the help from my parents, and I know I’d make much more of a difference if I had money they were always trying to force feed me. But the cost isn’t worth it to me. 

How can I, in good conscience, fight to make life easier for the middle/lower class if I’m rubbing elbows with the very people who are making their lives harder?

Paige’s response shocks me to my core. “I wish I was as brave as you.”

I don’t know why I said that. I meant what I said, but I stil have no fucking clue why I allowed myself to say it. 

Because now, Xavia is looking at me like she’s waiting for me to go further. Waiting for me to give her and explanation that I can’t give her. 

I think about where this conversation would go if I was honest about it. 

I’d tell her that I admired her ability to be honest. That I lie to everyone about everything and I think the guilt is gonna kill me before I make it to the league, which is the reason I’m doing it in the first place. I’d tell her that I wish I was strong enough to do what I want without caring about the repercussions. 

My first thought is that if I were to say all that, she’d for sure think I’m insane. I wouldn’t blame her. How can I play the victim in this situation when at the end of the day, it’s my choices that got me here?

But my second thought is that Xavia would take a second. Close her eyes and take a deep breath, and I’d stare at her lashes as they brush her cheek and hope that one falls so I can brush it off her cheek. And after that second, she’d open her eyes and tell me everything I need to hear. She’d come up with a solution to all my problems and when I tell her that I’m scared to be honest about everything, she wouldn’t make me feel like shit. She’d assure me that she’d be there when my world crumbles due to my lies.

None of that can happen for two reasons. 

I’m for shit sure not gonna chance Xavia and I’s friendship by telling her my secrets.

If my second thought is correct, I’d be forced to admit to myself that I never stopped liking Xavia. I’d be forced to admit that it might not be a like anymore. That it might possibly be something deeper and complex than wanting what I can’t have.

So instead, I feed her bullshit. 

“Uh, just-” I clear my throat, “If I had the choice to go to school on someone else’s dime, I’d take it, regardless.”

The way Xavi’s face drops makes my heart do the same. I literally watch the light in her eyes that I love so much, disappear.  Her brows furrow and she tucks her lips before sticking her neck out as if to telepathically say, ‘are you dumb?’

And I’m not.

I fully understand her mindset. And I support her choices to be independent. That sentence was just the best I could come up with at the moment, but clearly it’s done more harm than good. 

“Did you not hear everything I just said?”

“Uh-”

She cuts me off, “Because if you did, then you would have heard the part where I explained why I’m not doing that.”

“No, I know why you’re doing things your way, I just wouldn’t do the same.”

The baffled look on her face tells me she’s not pleased with my attempt at damage control, “And why not?”

There are countless answers to that question, and running them over in my mind makes me mad, more at myself than anyone else. All the excuses are my own fault. 

I’m too scared to fail.

I made promises I wouldn’t be able to keep on my own.

I don’t have the confidence within myself to trust me with my own life.

And of course, like the fucking moron that I am, I said none of that to the girl who’s now standing up front the couch, legs unfolded, bare feet barring into the carpet. 

“We all have to make sacrifices to make Xavia, and you choosing to struggle and cause a rift with your parents doesn’t seem worth the cause.” I shrugged, leaning back on my haunches, craning my neck to see her. 

She cuts her eyes at me before inhaling and exhaling. ‘Bye, Paige.” And now, she’s sliding into her shoes and grabbing her back, “Tell KK I’ll Apple Pay her my part for the food.”

I’m speechless as I watch her hips sway to my front door. I watch her arms swing the door open and I watch it close with a soft click. 

It isn’t until I watch her Uber drive off with her in it that I realize what the fuck just happened, and when I do it takes everything in me to not fall to my fucking knees. 

I just stare at the door, like if I hope hard enough Xavia will come back and have magically figured out everything I wanted to say.

But she doesn’t come back. The front door doesn’t open again until KK barges in with bags of Chick-Fil-A, asking where Xavi and Azzi went.

I can’t even bring myself to answer. 

I just close my eyes and force the tears back into their ducts before wordlessly going to my room and it isn’t until I’m in my bed with the lights off that allow the tears to fall. 

I allow myself to shake from the force of my regret. I let my lungs empty themselves out into my pillow with every sob. I allow this one time to be honest with myself because no amount of ignoring or denial will trick my brain into thinking that being Xavi-less is worth it.. 

So the rest of the night, I cry until there’s no tears left, and then I cry some more just because I want to. 

It’s not even the fact that Xavia walked out on me. It’s not abou the fact that she’s mad at me, though that doesn’t sit well either. 

It’s the fact that, for years I knew exactly how my life was gonna look. I knew I was going pro. I knew I was gonna be the #1 draft pick and I knew that in order for these things to happen, I had to make sacrifices. I had to pick the right girl, wear the right clothes, talk a certain way and dedicate myself to my career. I had to be absolutely fucking miserable and become a version of myself that I wasn’t proud of.

 And for all this time, I told myself that all this loneliness and misery was going to be worth it when I put that hat on. Because then I’d have done it. I’d have done what I’ve wanted to do since I was 10.

It didn’t matter that I was a liar. That I was keeping a girl I loved (as a friend) from being with someone who could give her everything she deserved. It didn’t matter I’d never enjoy sex again, or that the guilt of my decisons was probably gonna give me ulcers. Didn’t even matter that I’d probably go to Hell for all the sins I’d committed.

But now, I can’t stop my brain from telling me that the WNBA isn’t worth Farrah’s happiness. It isn’t worth the light in Xavia’s eyes. It isn’t worth Azzi’s peace of mind. 

It isn’t worth my soul.

The next morning, I ignore my alarm. I ignore the knocks on my door and the texts from my team and the calls from Farrah. I just lay there in my bed, wrapped in a blanket that smells nothing like coconut oil, and try to get my shit together, 

I wrack my brain and force myself to remember why I’m doing this. 

WHY THE FUCK AM I DOING THIS?

✷TAGLIST @patscorner @riyahtheballer @mattslolita @thaatdigitaldiary @janaelalfysblunt @kmoneymartini

@darkskinchristiandiorpostergirl @justliketoreadsowhat @pb524830 @pb524830 @dnftpn @sierrale8ne @numberonepartyanth3m

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@sellasstories @avvwritesstufff @bueckersverse @bueckersp @paxaz535 @thelightknight21 @paxaz535

@darlindayss @his-loss @dreatopia

[redicillin]

Hello!! If you’re taking requests on this account, could I ask for- chase who’s been anxious all day, distracted etc, and it’s been pretty obvious to the rest of the team. Then chase turns to foreman when they’re alone and asks for advice on how to propose to reader. Like this poor man is so nervous and just wants to make it perfect for reader? Tysm ❤️

𝐩𝐨𝐩 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 (𝐫.𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐬𝐞)

chase’ll settle for nothing less than perfection when it comes to popping the all important question.

fem!reader ☆ 1.6k ☆ masterlist.

The team is gathered around the diagnostics table, papers and charts strewn across its surface. You stand near House, half-listening to his sarcastic commentary as the others throw out potential diagnoses. It's the kind of spirited back-and-forth you've grown used to in this office—except for one glaring exception.

Chase isn’t himself.

You’ve noticed it since the moment you woke up. He’s unusually quiet, his bright blue eyes fixed on the table, his fingers twisting the cap of a dry-erase marker until it clicks repeatedly. Normally, Chase is quick to weigh in during these meetings, offering his thoughts with a mix of confidence and calm that suits him. Today, though, he barely seems present.

“Am I talking to myself here?” House barks, glaring around the room. His cane taps the ground impatiently as his gaze lands on Chase. “Paging Dr. Kangaroo. You awake over there?”

Chase’s head snaps up. “What? Oh, sorry. Uh, no, I don’t think it’s lupus,”

House narrows his eyes. “Riveting contribution. Anything else you want to share, or should we let your mind wander back to wherever it’s been for the past hour?”

“Leave him alone, House,” you interject, giving Chase a brief, worried glance. His lips twitch upward in what might be an attempt at a smile, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. Something is definitely off.

“Fine,” House drawls, rolling his eyes. “Guess I’ll pick up the slack while Dr. Distracted works through whatever existential crisis is happening over there. Foreman, Cameron—go start the tests. Chase, try to remember that thinking is part of your job.”

The meeting dissolves, and you find yourself walking alongside Chase as the team disperses. The hallways of Princeton-Plainsboro are as busy as ever, but all you can focus on is the man beside you. His silence feels heavy, and you can’t help but press.

“You okay?” you ask softly, glancing up at him. “You’ve been… somewhere else all day,”

Chase hesitates, the corner of his mouth quirking like he’s debating how to answer. Finally, he shakes his head and offers a rueful chuckle. “I’m fine. Just a lot on my mind,”

“Clearly,” You nudge him gently with your shoulder. “You know you can tell me anything, right?”

His expression softens at that, and for a moment, you think he might actually open up. But instead, he leans down to press a quick kiss to your forehead. “I know. Thanks. But I’m good, I promise,”

You’re not convinced, but you let it slide for now. Chase has always had a tendency to internalise things, preferring to work through his emotions privately. Still, you make a mental note to check in with him later.

—

The hum of the MRI machine fills the small room, a low, steady noise that makes conversation feel oddly intimate. Foreman is adjusting settings on the console while Chase stands by the monitor, staring at the patient’s scan with a blank expression.

Foreman notices. “Okay, what’s going on with you?” he asks, leaning back against the counter.

“What do you mean?” Chase replies, though his voice lacks conviction.

“You’ve been distracted all day,” Foreman says. “More than usual. It’s not like you to zone out during a differential. And don’t try to tell me it’s the case, because I’m not buying it,”

Chase hesitates, glancing over at the patient through the observation window. Once he’s sure she can’t hear, he exhales sharply and runs a hand through his hair.

“Okay, fine,” he says. “There’s...something on my mind.”

Foreman waits, eyebrows raised expectantly.

Chase shifts awkwardly, clearly debating whether to say more. Finally, he blurts out, “I want to propose.”

Foreman blinks. “Propose? As in marriage?”

“Yes, marriage,” Chase says, his tone somewhere between exasperation and nervous laughter. “What else would I be proposing?”

Foreman grins. “Okay, calm down. You’re just...really worked up about this, huh?”

“You have no idea,” Chase mutters, leaning on the counter. “I’ve been thinking about it for weeks, trying to figure out the right way to do it. It has to be perfect,”

Foreman gives him a skeptical look. “Does it? She loves you, man. She’s not going to care if it’s perfect,”

Chase shakes his head. “I care. I want it to be special. Something she’ll remember forever,”

Foreman shrugs. “Look, I’m not exactly the romantic type, but here’s what I think: you’re overthinking it. You’ve been with her long enough to know she’ll say yes. Just do it,”

Chase frowns. “That’s it? Just do it? That’s your advice?”

“Yeah,” Foreman says with a shrug. “Why make it more complicated than it needs to be?”

Chase doesn’t look entirely convinced, but he nods. “I’ll think about it.”

—

The case wraps up late in the evening, the patient stabilised and diagnosed after a long day of tests and deliberation. The team gathers in the conference room for a quick debrief, but everyone is clearly exhausted.

House dismisses you all with a wave of his cane, muttering something about needing to bother Wilson. One by one, the others file out, leaving you and Chase alone.

You glance at him, noting the tension in his posture. He’s been like this all day—nervous, restless. You’re about to ask him about it again when he suddenly turns to you, his expression oddly intense.

“Can I ask you something?” he says, his voice low.

“Of course,” you reply, a little startled by his tone.

He takes a deep breath, his hands curling into fists at his sides. For a moment, he seems to hesitate, as if he’s trying to find the right words. Then, in one quick, almost panicked burst, he blurts out:

“Will you marry me?”

You blink, caught completely off guard. “What?”

“Will you marry me?” he repeats, his voice softer this time. There’s a vulnerability in his eyes that you’ve never seen before, a mixture of hope and fear that makes your heart ache.

For a moment, you just stare at him, too stunned to speak. He fidgets under your gaze, his hands moving as if he doesn’t know what to do with them.

“I—I know this isn’t the most romantic way to ask,” he stammers. “I had this whole plan, but I couldn’t stop thinking about it, and I just… I couldn’t wait anymore,”

Your lips twitch, and before you know it, you’re laughing. Not because you think it’s funny, but because the whole situation is so completely Chase—overthinking everything until he just dives in headfirst.

“Are you serious?” you ask, though the answer is obvious.

“Yes,” he says firmly. “Completely.”

You laugh again, shaking your head in disbelief. “Chase, you’re unbelievable,”

He winces. “Is that a no?”

“No!” you say quickly, stepping closer to him. “It’s not a no. I’m just… surprised, that’s all,”

“So— it’s a yes, then?” he asks, his voice hesitant.

You smile, your chest swelling with warmth. “Yes. Of course it’s a yes,”

The relief on his face is almost comical. He lets out a breath he must have been holding for hours and pulls you into a tight embrace.

“I’m sorry,” he murmurs against your hair. “I wanted to make it perfect,”

“It was perfect,” you assure him, your voice muffled against his chest. “Because it was you, but blurting it out in the middle of the conference room?” You chuckle.

Chase groans, burying his face further into your hair. “I panicked, okay? Foreman told me to go with my gut,”

“And your gut told you to propose at work?”

“Yes,” he says, his voice muffled. Then he peeks at your face, a sheepish smile tugging at his lips. “I guess it wasn’t so bad, though,”

You laugh, leaning into him. “No, it wasn’t. It was… very you,”

He wraps an arm around your shoulders, pulling you closer. “I’ll make it up to you,” he promises. “I’ll plan something better. A nice dinner, or a trip, or—”

“Chase,” you interrupt, placing a hand on his chest. “You don’t have to make it up to me. This is exactly how it was supposed to happen,”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you say, smiling up at him. “Now stop overthinking it and just enjoy the moment,”

He chuckles, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “I’ll try,”

And as the two of you walk out, the weight of the day finally lifting, you can’t help but think that this—messy, imperfect, and completely unplanned—is exactly what love should be.

[miraculouslbcnreactions]

Regarding the “Is Marinette a Stalker?” post, I want to say thank you! Because I did something like Marinette and self-doubted my younger-self’s actions. A bit of context, I’m (37 y/o, female) one of the many adults that loved MLBCN when it started airing. When I came disappointed at the show by S4, I turned to the fandom to look out for fanfics, and was surprised by the salty side.

Don’t get me wrong, I kinda get the why’s and the reasons, and even though I enjoyed a Mari-salt fic titled “The Schedule” (iirc), I… sorta felt ashamed at myself? When I was 19, I fell in love with this guy, and it seemed that he liked me too. Our university had a system only for students where we could do lots of administrative stuff, like choosing our classes. At my time, there used to be a search tool on it to look out for our classmates’ schedules; in my curiosity, I searched for his just to see if we shared free periods. (Btw, today I do feel that it was wrong that my university had that function).

At my defense, after finding my crush’s schedule, I also searched for my friends’, just so I could organize with them to set up a table for our LAN parties. At the end my feelings weren’t reciprocated, my heartbreak ocurred close the next semester’s start, so I searched his schedule one more time, but just to avoid having classes with him.

When I read that Mari having Adrien’s schedule was “stalker behavior” I was like “OMG, was I a stalker? And worse, I was legally an adult!”, but I can’t remember my friends being creeped out by me. I don’t know if it is a subject whose meaning has evolved as time went on, or maybe it can change according to our different cultural/countries’ POV. But we do crazy stuff when we are young-adults, and worse when we are adolescents, add first love/crush feelings, and well… (just look at Hey, Arnold!’s Helga, she had it bad for Arnold and went to do stuff that by today’s standards is a serious case of bullying).

If the issue is the “breach of privacy” and the “3 years”, well, the first one isn’t touched on the show, maybe Mari got the pattern by observation, or Alya helped by asking Nino, or maybe even Chloe said something loudly, or my personal fan-favorite: as Class Rep, Marinette has access to that information to make easy her duties! And as for the second issue, they are 13-14 years old, my bet is that if their school makes fixated schedules for its students, so it wouldn’t be difficult to guess Adrien’s schedule for the next 3-years, and since his father was Marinette’s favorite designer, she might have followed his seasons releases, and might been easy for her to add it to Adrien’s schedule.

I want to clarify that I’m not looking to invalidate people’s feelings about this, or saying that they are wrong. In the end, we all must remember that Marinette is just a fictional adolescent character in a cartoon show, and cartoons will exaggerate actions just for the sake of the plot. We don’t like something about the characters’ actions and/or personalities? We teach and explain to the children why is wrong; and as adults, we tell ourselves to be wary if anything about it is in our daily actions, so we don’t fall into the “hating something that is a reflection of us” projection.

I like to think that I was a good adolescent and young adult that didn’t do anything morally or ethically bad, so it really freaked me out that part of the Marinette salt fandom. So, a thousand thanks! And sorry that your friend, cousin and you had to deal with that stuff.

(Post this ask is in reference to)

Before we get started, I wanted to say that your university having that feature seems incredibly dangerous. Most people are going to use it the harmless way that you did, but boy does that have the potential for misuse. Way better to let students decide if they want to share schedules on their own.

Anyway, while I will absolutely agree that the show occasionally takes Marinette too far, leading me to understand why her behavior bothers people, I think that biggest issue in her writing is actually something you sort of brought up:

I fell in love with this guy, and it seemed that he liked me too.

It sounds like you had some sort of relationship with your crush and that makes a world of difference to how your actions are going to be perceived by others. Checking the schedule of a guy you don't know? Kinda creepy. Checking the schedule of your friends including the friend you have a crush on? Normal.

Let's look at a personal example to show you what I mean. When I was in high school, I learned parts of my crush's schedule. On my way to lunch, I would purposely walk by the area where he hung out so that I could say "hi" to him as I walked past.

This statement probably raises some questions in your mind like how did I learn that he'd be there? The answer is incredibly innocent. I learned that part of his schedule by accident because his hangout spot because was also my hangout spot during my free periods. I just happened to go by one day to see a different friend and ran into him, thereby learning a bit of his schedule. After that, I took path A to lunch instead of path B because they took the same amount of time and I liked seeing him for two seconds every day.

It's also worth noting that we had the same hangout spot because we had a mutual friend group! We were in the same small club and spent a lot of time together. We even hung out together outside of school and club activities. We eventually dates for several years because he asked me out! So when I said, "hi" to him every day, it didn't shock anyone or creep him out because I wasn't some random girl. I was a friend taking a moment to acknowledge his existence before going about the rest of my day.

An additional mitigating detail is the fact that I could have told you details about several platonic friends' schedules because that's just what happens when you know people and pay attention to their lives. We all know random crap about the people we care about. Crushes simply enhance your attention, making you way more aware of everything you do, say, or think about this person. That heightened attention might make you feel creepy at times, but that feeling doesn't automatically make you creepy. It's more complicated than that. The details of the situation matter because there's a ton of nuance around this topic. Nuance that actually makes it hard to give examples because this stuff can be incredibly personal. What person A find cute and charming is a hard no for person B.

That nuances goes beyond crushes on people you're close with. For example, you don't need to stop going to your favorite coffee shop because the new barista is cute! You are not stalking them by maintaining your usual habits! You're not a bad person for experiencing attraction toward a person who is working! It only gets weird if you start crossing social boundaries like if you start asking them on a date every time you see them even though they are very clearly uninterested and you've never actually talked to them beyond simple pleasantries.

This is where we circle back to Miraculous.

While the early seasons of Miraculous gave Adrien and Marinette a few moments of friendship like playing games together in Gamer, those moments quickly stopped. By season three, they barely interacted. This happened for an obvious reasons. Miraculous is an episodic formula show in almost the purest sense of those terms. The writers have made it clear that the episodes are designed so that they can be watched in any order leading to all sorts of weird moments like Felix telling Marinette that Gabriel is Monarch only for her to act like this is new information in the next episode. This was explicitly done so that people who missed the first reveal didn't feel left out:

Talking about previous episodes, [the writers] then say that... the 5 last episodes of season 5 (Collusion - Revolution - Representation - Conformation - Recreation) go together and there is a direct continuation between them. (However, one of their rules as Miraculous writers is that these episodes can also be watched and understood independently.)

This ridiculous rule* means that the on-screen relationships can't develop and grow as that makes the show feel too serialized. This limitation meant that Adrien and Marinette could NOT become functional friends with a developing relationship as that would require a certain viewing order. The same was true for Ladybug and Chat Noir's relationship. They could not become stronger over time. They had to stay stagnant.

Without those friendships, Adrienette was reduced to being all about Marinette being unable to function around Adrien and Ladynoir was reduced to being all about Chat Noir flirting relentlessly while Ladybug constantly shot him down. The only side of the square that was allowed to be a true friendship was Marichat because they could interact without it leading to a romance since they weren't in love, which is a major problem since Adrienette is what became canon in spite of it having the substance of unset jello. How are we supposed to ship a couple that never knowingly interacted???

This inability to have developing relationships is why the writers wrote Marinette more like a fangirl than a friend with a crush. But fangirl behavior only plays well when there's a level of separation between the fan and the object of their affections. The fan can't actually know their crush because that makes the fan feel creepy and weird. This is Marinette's main problem. The thing that understandably turns a lot of viewers off. The way her crush is written simply doesn't fit the story canon is going with.

If Marinette and Adrien had been written as true friends and were allowed to have more of those early show moments where they did non-romantic things together, then Marinette would come across light-years more relatable than she does in canon even if her actions didn't change.

It's not that Marinette never has questionable moments, she absolutely does! It's just that a lot of those moments are only questionable because of the nature of her relationship with Adrien. They would all feel wildly different if Adrien was her close friend or boyfriend.

To see what I mean, think about how much less creepy it would have been if Marinette claimed to have Adrien's schedule after she and Adrien started dating. Your instant assumption becomes that he gave it to her! You also have the addition of Gabriel's controlling nature to mitigate the way Marinette's rickshaw date plan comes across. It goes from awkwardly over-the-top to sweet because she's just trying to find a way to spend a few minutes with her boyfriend whose life is too controlled to allow for proper dates. Same exact episode setup, wildly different read because context matters.

It really is sad how much the writing failed Marinette because it's normal to be a little weird around your crush. Wanting to get to know them better and spend time with them is completely understandable and common behavior! But the writers didn't just decide to keep Marinette and Adrien from being good friends. They also decided to give Marinette an active running gag of trying and failing to confess. This gag requires her crush to be extremely active while the show's formulaic nature meant that the crush could never have true progress. This lead to the show constantly putting Marinette in awkward positions and questionable situations. It's a terrible call if your goal is to actually tell a romance. They would have been way better off to make Marinette shy and afraid to confess as a contrast to Chat Noir's bold flirting. The most I'd do in that setup is to let her have the occasional secrete admirer thing where she leaves Adrien a gift or sends him a note like we saw in The Bubbler. That way a much stronger way to play Marinette's crush.

*Quick note: status quo rules are fine in shows that don't have overarching plots, but Miraculous is a romance with an overarching plot. Both of those elements require you to have some level of serialization to your story. I recently used ABC's Castle as an example of this. Almost every episode it a unique murder mystery, but the characters' relationships progress over time. There are also several plot lines that run through the show, leading to a handful of episodes that do need to be watched in order. Notably, all of the major status quo changes happen in that handful of serialized episodes. This is the type of show that Miraculous needed to be for its main story lines to work.