#I needed to write this shower thought out

[hcneymooners]

❀ my favorite fic writers on tumblr except my descriptions are oddly specific. ( pt. 1 )

@pbaz7: sleek, refined, luxurious. you always want to keep it on the tongue. you always want more, but you know better than to overindulge. the best way i can put it: every single piece takes the ordinary and deepens it. a conversation is never just a conversation. it’s about what you didn’t say, what you didn’t text, what you thought you mentioned but know you didn’t. it feels like night-riding: slowing down on the highway but going top speed, the world slurring into a blur of headlights and a pitch black sky, someone else driving you in the body of a dark black car. always looking in, a love that never asks you to look out. every word hits like a broken-off piece of dark chocolate. the world expands like a pupil under a drug. luxe, perfect, niche. writing that doesn’t worry about what you think of it; it just knows you will think of it.

@bucketsorbueckers: fucking lush. the exact feeling of going on a deep water dive—pressure, but gentle. perfect exploration of domination and submission without ever feeling cliché. it invites you in, but never lets you out. did you want to leave? maybe. but you know staying is better for you. cyclical. everything comes back around, everything is a lesson earned. feels like that girl you keep seeing in slips of light when you’re out somewhere: you keep looking at her, at her flash of teeth, her perfect outfit, her thrumming veins, her hip bones. makes you feel like it’s only you, and then you blink and it's not. it’s about attention. attention in every form: learning people, learning the rules, watching them, breaking them. reading is letting go, and when it’s over you feel hungover in the most delicious way. dark red, berry pink, burnt orange. a trust fall where you never land. so good. the exact experience of a contact high with someone you love, of chasing someone you need.

@elleaitch22: b.o.a.t by camila cabello. the feeling of being someone’s favorite baby—someone’s favorite anything. staying after everyone’s left just to get a moment alone. kisses in someone’s lap. secret smiles because you share an internal inside joke. stumbling through your twenties but being honest about it. hands in your hair as you dance in a dark room. roses—specifically thick and pink. the remnants of perfume on a sweater you can’t bring yourself to wash because you miss them too much. peonies. fingers clasped under the table. privacy screens on a cellphone. bella hadid bare face. airplane mode. that suspended feeling of safety when you’re with someone you trust. forehead kisses. friendship bracelets. talking into a kiss. hands around your hips. non-toxic possession. trying again because this time, you will get it right. happiness that’s earned. a quiet life. the city under a sunset bleed, light flashing off a skyscraper and blinding you for six perfect seconds. the shower after the beach. love as a tightrope. skinship. you made it. you knew you would. vanilla and amber.

@loeysoi: mariners apartment complex by lana. faded-out camera, route 66, bubblegum fondness, loose freshly washed hair. driving over bridges and backroads, forgetting to text back but the people who know you forgive you anyway. it’s that careless kind of affection, messy and soft, that song you never skip. reading lyra’s work is like sitting in a car with the windows down, sun slipping low, everything blurred at the edges but somehow sharper inside. poetic, lyrical, never trying too hard. she’s finding it and you’re looking with her, only to have a minute more of her time. she’s your woman, she’s your man. a kind of quiet recklessness: wanting to be seen but a little afraid to ask for it, loving without explanation or ceremony. humorous but never at your expense. tan lines and sun-freckled skin, random shit to keep a spot in a book, sun-bleached denim, the specific energy of someone trying to keep the smoke out of your face, the warm ache of trying to hold on while knowing you probably won’t. endlessly fragile, endlessly real.

@lupinqs: maddie’s work can’t be described as anything other than a vast emotional landscape. it feels like i’ve been let into a secret world i never want to leave—an outsider sitting quietly, watching someone else’s life unfold in great detail. her blog, both in content and aesthetic, is the equivalent of slipping outside during a night out and sitting in the haze of smoke, while the light refracts off of you and dusts across someone else. it’s effortlessly nuanced and emotionally mature, without ever begging you to notice. i can’t explain the correlation, but it gives cool, calm middle daughter who’s riotous and fun when you slowly cut into her like slicing into a cake. always lovely, always self-assured, always carrying a tone that acts like a calling card. you couldn’t mistake it for anyone else’s, but it’s sweet when someone says you remind them of her.

@azzibuckets: cessa is a snapshot. straight glitter down a throat. a million memories you keep guarded like a dog. the same perfect feel as being pressed close to someone in a photo booth. a sweet spot, a soft spot, just tenderness always spilling over, without the embarrassment of being so revealed. first love. a perfect crush. a bright summer that seems to last forever. the gentle nature of waking up after a sleepover tangled together, legs brushing. instantly recognizable, with its bright, bubbly beat. it’s laughter caught in a cup, the low hum the low hum of fizzy emotional texture, the safety of being known without having to explain. kissing a girl under the excuse of trying out her lip gloss. the sun caught under your tongue and deep in your belly. you’ll never die here. you’ll be alright here. writing that feels like holding hands without realizing you reached out first.

@luvergirl-535: honeymoon album by lana del rey, cherry soda fizz, the perfect lip combo made up of products you can’t find anymore. a slow, dulcet hum that’s both dreamy and daring. writing that drips with lipstick glazed by too much time in the sun, tongue-in-cheek with a wink caught just right in the corner of a smile, dimples, playful but never shallow, a streak of mischief with a quiet, certain knowing of what she wants. coachella when it was still fun. leaning on a shoulder. being picked up behind the knees into someone’s arms when you fall asleep in the car. sweetness with an edge: bubblegum kisses that sting a little, drifting close enough to taste. a private world, empty beaches, desire when it feels both tender and sharp. what you’re holding onto when you feel yourself growing up. stairway to heaven. soft, sly, and unforgettable.

part two coming soon. x

[gingiesworld]

We Never Argue

Elizabeth Olsen x Fem Reader

Warnings: Not really any other than Lizzie trying to cause an argument but failing

AN: Just another one shot from my wattpad account. Im sorry I haven't quite been motivated to write anything new in a while guys

18+ MINORS DNI

Y/N pov

When I came home from work this morning I saw my beautiful fiancé and scarlett both sitting in the sofa with some coffee. I had just come home from doing a night shift at the station and I am tired. I go into the kitchen to get myself a beer out of the fridge since technically its my evening now. I walk into the living room and sit down next I Lizzie.

"Hey baby." I said as I kissed her cheek.

"Hi love bug." She said as she pressed a gentle kiss to my lips.

"Oh hi Scar, it's so good to see you." Scarlett said sarcastically making both lizzie and I laugh.

"Oh hi Scar, would you like a welcome kiss too?" I teased her with a smirk which resulted in Lizzie playfully slapping my arm laughing. "So what brings you here?"

"Oh just Colin being an obnoxious twat. All we seem to do now is argue even over the smallest thing." She said as she took a sip of her coffee. "Anyway isn't it too early to be drinking. Its only 9am."

"Well I just finished work and I dont start my shift until 8pm tonight." I said taking a sip of my beer which she just nodded.

"How do you guys do it?" She asked us both as we just looked at each other.

"Do what?" Lizzie and I said in unison looking at Scarlett.

"You know, you guys have the perfect relationship. I don't think I've ever known you to argue. Well lizzies never complained about you." Scar said as she looked between us.

"Well I don't know really." Lizzie said with a smile.

"I just guess we have a very strong understanding of each other. We both understand the importance of our jobs and we both try to put a lot of effort into our relationship." I said truthfully.

"I don't follow." Scar said making me chuckle.

"Well, I know pretty much all of her tells, like of she's irritated at something so I just tend to give her her favourite anchovies on toast. It always makes her feel better even if it does taste horrible." I said with a smile.

"It doesn't taste horrible." Lizzie said with a small pout.

"Well each to their own I guess." I said as I gave her a sweet kiss making her smile.

"See that right there. It was like a little disagreement. If you didn't watch that whole interaction with you two you wouldn't have thought you dissed her favourite snack." Scar said as she slightly bounced in her seat.

"I just guess we can't argue." Lizzie said with a shrug.

"That's sickening." Scar said with a scowl making us both laugh. "How about we make it a threesome?" She said jokingly.

"I think im good. I have the woman I need right here." I said as I looked at lizzie.

"Well I'm going home because I can't stand to be in the same room as you're perfect relationship anymore." She said with a huff. "Well I'll see you guys later." We both watched as she walked herself out of our house.

"Do you think it's normal that we never argue?" Lizzie asked as she turned to face me

"Yeah, I guess. I just like to think that we're soul mates." I told her as I finished my beer. "Well I'm going to get a shower and sleep OK baby." I gave her a soft kiss before heading up to our bathroom.

Lizzie's pov

I just watched as my fiancé walked upstairs to our room. Is it normal that we don't argue. I just dont really know. Pretty much every couple I know argue at least 5 times in their relationship but we haven't argued once. So I got the crazy idea that when she goes to work tonight I'm going to do some things to try and cause an argument for when she comes home tomorrow. So for the rest of the day I plotted in my head what I could do to make her mad. So I decided to hide away all of her beer out of the fridge in the cupboard under the stairs knowing that will be the first thing she will go for in the morning. As I was running around like a mad woman I didn't hear Scar make her way into our house.

"Whatcha doing?" She asked curiously.

"I don't know. Its just that every couple I know has arguments and we don't seem to have any. Whenever we have a small disagreement it doesn't really count as arguing because in the end she always agrees with me." I told her which just made her laugh. "Would you be quiet she's still asleep."

"Oh sorry, what time does she wake up?" She asked me making me check the time.

"Shit. She'll be in the shower now. I best start dinner. Would you like to stay?" I ask her as we both make our way into the kitchen.

"Yeah sure. I think I might just stay tonight. I want to see what happens in the morning." She said with a smirk making me chuckle. I decided on doing some pasta today, something simple and filling so she's energised for work.

"Mmm that smells gorgeous love." Y/N said as she wrapped her arms around my waist. I naturally leaned back into the touch as she pressed a kiss to my neck.

"Well I hope it tastes as good as it smells." I said with a smirk as i started to plate it up.

"Why is there three plates. Do we have company?" She asked me. Both scarlett and I laugh because she literally walked past her and didn't realise Scar was here. When she shot her head around Scar just done a small wave to her.

"I honestly don't know how your a detective when your not very observant." Scar said with a smirk.

"Well I'm sorry that my first thought after I wake up is to see my beautiful fiancé." She said with a smile making me blush. Lucky I was facing away from them to notice.

"Well dinner is served so stop bickering children." I told them both as I sat there plates in front of them. The three of us all ate in a comfortable silence while I kept thinking of ways to make her argue with me. As soon as we had all finished Y/N went upstairs to finish getting ready for work. She keeps her gun holster in her safe underneath our bed. I know the code to it incase I need to use the spare that's in there whenever she's at work. She taught me how to shoot it on our fourth date and let me tell you. The way she held my waist and guided my arms to help with aim as well as her breathing on my neck. Well let me tell you that was our first time together, and it was the best sex I ever had. I made her sandwiches and handed it to her as she was on her way out.

"I'll see you tomorrow my love." She said as she gave me a kiss. "I love you mi amor."

"I love you too baby. Be safe." I said as I watched her walk out the door and get in her car. When i returned to the kitchen to clean up Scar was already doing it.

"Hey thats my job." I told her as I crossed my arms across my chest.

"Well I'm doing it so take the night off." She told me as she splashed me.

Then I remembered the perfect way for her to argue, I already got rid of her beer the only other thing she loves to have when she comes home is cuddles off me. "So what else do you plan on doing to try and make her mad?" Scar asked as she dried her hands grabbing the wine and two glasses.

"Well she her love language is touch." I said with a smirk.

"Ok I don't need that picture in my head." Scar said before I could finish making me laugh.

"No not that you dirty minded fucker. I'm not gonna give her her morning cuddles." I said with a smile.

"Really, that's the best you can come up with. What happened to hiding her favourite hoodie. Smashing her favourite cup or hiding her xbox." She said with an unimpressed look.

"Well I already stole her favourite hoodie. And I can't smash her favourite cup or hide her xbox because that's just mean." I said as I glared at her for suggesting it.

"Well try and give her the silent treatment when she comes home. She'll soon get pissed off wondering what she did wrong." She told me making me realise that is perfect.

"You're right. That is genius thank you Scar." I told her as I gave her a bone crushing hug.

"I really can't wait for tomorrow now." She said with a smirk.

We both decided it was time to call it a night. When I woke up the next morning, I was excited to see if she would argue. Both scarlett and I sat on the sofa watching some TV while having a coffee waiting for Y/N to come home. And right on cue she comes home and goes straight to the fridge. I'm trying hard to keep a stoic expression on my face.

"Love, did you guys finish the beer last night?" She asked as she walked up behind the sofa. I just ignored her while scarlett had a smirk on her face. "It's OK I can just buy some more. I hope you girls had fun last night."

I was really struggling at keeping a straight face. She doesn't seem to want to argue at all. So I'm guessing it's the silent treatment.

"Did you guys have breakfast already?" She asked as she sat down in a chair with a cup of coffee.

"Yeah, we woke up pretty early this morning." Scar said matter of factly

"Ok, well I'm going to get a shower ok love." She said as she came over to give me a kiss which I turned my head and she caught my cheek instead. She just shrugged her shoulders and went up stairs.

"Why won't she argue?" I asked scarlett clearly frustrated by my perfect fiancé.

"I don't know. It seems like she just really loves you." She told me quietly.

"Even the silent treatment isn't working?" I said as I ran my hands through my hair.

"Well maybe I don't know. Well I'm going to go home now and silently envy your relationship." She said which made me chuckle as she made her way over to the door. I made my way into the kitchen I didn't hear her come down until I felt her arms wrap around me. I almost melted into her touch but then I remembered the plan. I removed myself from her embrace and went to make a fresh pot of coffee.

"Love, have I done something wrong?" She asked with a furrowed brow. I just ignored her and carried on with my task. "Please mi amor, I can't fix it if I don't know what I did." I honestly started to feel bad making her feel like she done something to upset me. "Please tell me love, I've missed hearing your voice this morning. It's the best part of my day coming home to you."

I honestly melted and gave in at her words. So I decided to tell her the truth.

"We never argue like normal couples. I've been trying to get you to argue with me." I said as I walked to where I stashed the beer and gave her one. "I started by hiding your beer since I know you're a creature of habit and want one every morning after you finish your shift. But that didn't work obviously. So I thought the silent treatment would work but that didn't either. I just want to know why we don't argue." I had started to raise my voice at her without realising.

"Ok love, we don't argue because whenever we have a disagreement, we see it from the others perspective before it blows out of proportion. Like what your doing now." She said calmly as she made her way over to me.

"Just one heated argument is all I want so we could have amazing make up sex afterwards." I said with a slight blush.

"Well if you wanted amazing sex I could definitely help there." She said with a smirk.

"No I wanted make up sex. Its more exciting than normal sex." I told her as I walked away from her.

"Ok so what other ideas did you have to make us argue?" She asked me calmly.

"Well I thought about smashing your favourite mug." I said shyly.

"My thundercats mug." She said quietly. I watched as she moved to the cupboard where we keep our mugs and she handed me the mug. "I love you baby."

"I love you too." I told her softly.

"Oh no I was talking to the mug. I don't know how I'm gonna feel about you after you do this." She said waving her hands at me making me chuckle. I looked at the mug before I threw it the wall making it shatter. I watched her face change through so many different emotions. I was expecting a shouting match but I was surprised when she started crying. I quickly walked over to her and hugged her tightly.

"Shh it's ok. I'll get you another one." I whispered as I hugged her close.

"You can't they don't make them anymore." She said between sobs.

"Huh i guess we can't really argue." I realised as she just looked at me in disbelief.

"Really you couldn't have realised that before you murdered my mug." She said sternly which just made me chuckle as I kissed the top of her head.

Taglist : @natashamaximoff-69 @canvascoloredin @wizardofstories @louxbloom @wandanats-goodgirl @the-ox-fan20 @ladyqueenxoxo @aemilia19 @wandaromamoff69 @mfd-101 @dorabledewdroop @marvelogic @dopeyouth @karsonromanoff @bimad @reginassweetheart @machyishere @gemz5 @pawiie @duckiekong @womenarehotsstuff @thatssomeplaygirlshit-blog @iz-a-mi (If you want to be added to my taglist, please DM me or comment)

[uhuhmaries]

Two Night Stand

Summary: After a wild, unforgettable night with Harry Styles in Tokyo, you thought that was it. No number exchanged, no promises made. But somehow, he finds you. A message leads to a date, and a date leads to more than either of you expected. What begins as lust turns into something deeper, with Harry craving more than just your body—he wants to know what truly undoes you. One night, one connection… and it might not end in Tokyo after all.

If you’re new here, HELLO!!!! Check out my masterlist to see the first two chapters!

Warnings: NSFW / 18+ (honestly nothing is really going on here just cute stuff and tensions), is going out on a date with Harry while having a shitty situationship back home is considered as cheating???

⊹ ࣪ ˖₊˚⊹⋆ ⊹ ࣪ ˖₊˚⊹⋆ ⊹ ࣪ ˖₊˚⊹⋆ ⊹ ࣪ ˖₊˚⊹⋆ ⊹ ࣪ ˖₊˚⊹⋆ ⊹ ࣪ ˖₊˚⊹⋆ ⊹

You have returned to your room, the morning still barely stirring outside your window. The walls feel too cold. The silence, too loud. You thought you'd feel relief walking away—cleaner, somehow—but your skin still burns where his hands were.

You shower again. Not because you need to, but because you're trying to scrub the memory off. Except it clings harder than soap.

And worse, your friends are still sleeping, but you can't stop refreshing your phone. The blurry photo’s has been making rounds online, and your heart does somersaults every time you read the caption.

“Harry Styles’ mysterious Tokyo guest: fan or fling?”

You want to laugh. Or scream. Maybe both.

That night, you don’t sleep. You write drafts of messages you’ll never be able to send. “Thank you for everything.” “This is wild. I hope you’re okay.” “Is this over?” But none feel right.

You settle into the day like a ghost. Pretending. But your body remembers him.

Three nights later, just as you're slipping into a restless sleep, your phone buzzes.

UNKNOWN NUMBER: “You still in Tokyo?”

Your breath catches. You already know it’s him.

You’ve opened the message, but your thumbs hover uncertainly over your phone. You don’t know if you should respond—or if you should stick to your decision to keep things uncomplicated.

After a few minutes of pacing the room, heart pounding, you finally cave:

YOU: “How did you even get my number?”

HS: “I’m... charming, remember? Also, your name isn’t exactly hard to find.”

You exhale slowly, torn between smiling and rolling your eyes.

YOU: “Let’s not do this, Harry. I’m sorry about the photo. Being seen outside your hotel wasn’t intentional. I hope you and your team didn’t catch too much heat because of me.”

You let out a sigh, sinking onto the edge of your bed. If you’re honest with yourself… you do want to be back in his arms. Who wouldn’t? It’s Harry Styles. Anyone would throw themselves at the chance. But this—whatever this is—was never supposed to happen.

Your phone buzzes again.

HS: “Let me take you on a date. If we can’t even get through one real conversation, we’ll leave it there. But I need you to know… it’s not just physical for me. I feel like there’s something here.”

Your heart stutters, fluttering like you’re fifteen again. It’s embarrassing how fast it happens. Like you’re back in middle school screaming One Way or Another into a hairbrush.

Just as your fingers brush the keyboard, about to say yes…

“Hey!” one of your friends calls from the kitchen. You jump slightly, caught off guard.

You quickly lock your phone and walk out of the room.

“So… you’re back,” she says, raising a brow with a sly grin. “Can you talk about it? Or did they hit you with an NDA like we always joked about?”

You laugh under your breath. “Shockingly, no paperwork. I think we left things on decent terms.” You pause, then glance around like you’re double-checking you’re really saying this out loud. “I didn’t give him my number. But… he found me. He’s asking to see me. A real date.”

Your friend’s eyebrows shoot up, and you can already tell she’s ready with opinions.

You bite your lip, voice quieter now. “I don’t know what to do. I mean… I didn’t expect any of this. It’s already complicated.”

But the way your voice lingers on that last word? It’s clear you’re hoping she tells you to go.

Because part of you is already halfway there.

“Y/N… it’s Harry Styles.”

Your friend grabs your hands, eyes wide, voice low but emphatic like she’s trying to knock some sense into you. “You’re leaving Tokyo in two days. Might as well make him your Tokyo fling. That’s all I’m gonna say.”

You blink at her, half-laughing. But she’s not wrong.

Why are you overthinking this?

You glance toward your phone on the counter, the screen still dark. No new messages.

Not from him.

The one back home.

Of course, he hasn’t reached out. Not since the first moment you even looked at Harry. And still… it’s always the same damn cycle. He’s emotionally distant, you’re emotionally complicated, and somehow you always end up falling right back into that almost-relationship that never gives you anything real. Just enough to stay. Never enough to thrive.

And then there’s Harry.

Who looked at you like he meant it. Who touched you like he knew you, but you know. It will never work.

You swallow hard. Suddenly, your fingers itch for the phone in your back pocket. You pull it out, stare at his message one more time, and then you type:

YOU:

“Sure. What the hell. I’m leaving in two days anyway. Might as well make it count.”

You barely have time to breathe before it buzzes in your hand.

HS:

“Two days? That’s all I get?”

You smirk, heartbeat quickening, and type back:

YOU:

“Take it or leave it.”

Another pause—then:

HS:

“Taking it. Send me your hotel. I’m picking you up at 7 sharp.”

You bite your lip, screen still lit in your hand. The nerves are loud now.

Excited. Dangerous. Alive. Your friend’s voice echoes in your mind:

Might as well make it your Tokyo fling.

You do feel guilty, of course. But then again… sometimes you have to take a leap of faith. You give the name of your hotel and room number without thinking.

⊹ ࣪ ˖₊˚⊹⋆ ⊹ ࣪ ˖₊˚⊹⋆ ⊹ ࣪ ˖₊˚⊹⋆ ⊹ ࣪ ˖₊˚⊹⋆ ⊹ ࣪ ˖₊˚⊹⋆ ⊹ ࣪ ˖₊˚⊹⋆ ⊹

You spend the whole afternoon pacing, rifling through your suitcase like a woman possessed. Nothing feels quite right—too casual, too much, too desperate. But just when you’re about to give up and settle for something safe, fate offers you a little gift.

Tucked beneath a pile of worn T-shirts and folded denim is the dress. You don’t even remember packing it—maybe it was wishful thinking—but there it is: a navy-blue, backless dress with a high slit that kisses the curve of your thigh. Elegant, effortless, just a little dangerous. The kind of dress that feels like it was made for this moment.

You hold it up against your body and smirk to yourself in the mirror.

Perfect.

As the sun begins to dip below the Tokyo skyline, you slip it on, letting the silky fabric glide over your skin. You add a delicate pair of earrings, some gloss, and just a hint of perfume. Matching it with a pair of white kitten heels.

And under the dress?

White lace. Soft. Barely there.

Just in case.

You’ll never admit that part—not to him, not to your friends. Not even to yourself. But the way you smooth the fabric over your hips and check your reflection one more time tells the truth.

You want him to see you.

And maybe… maybe— undress you, too.

The knock comes at the perfect time.

When you open the door, he’s already there— leaning slightly against the frame like he owns the damn hallway. A black shirt hangs open just enough to tease the ink sprawled across his chest, sleeves rolled lazily to the elbows. A low-slung hat hides his eyes, but not his grin. The sunglasses are unnecessary, but somehow—on him—they work.

You swallow thickly, nearly losing your breath.

God, he looks like trouble.

Before you can say anything, Harry takes one step inside, quick and low like someone might be watching. His eyes drag down your body slowly—too slowly—before they flick back up to meet yours. There’s a beat of silence. Maybe two.

Then suddenly, his hand finds your waist like it belongs there, and his other palm cups your cheek as his mouth meets yours—hungry, deliberate, like it’s been years instead of hours. You melt into him before he pulls back with a breathless smile.

“You ready?” he murmurs.

You just nod.

He doesn’t let go of your hand as he walks you down the hallway and into the elevator. Your heart is thudding like it’s trying to crawl out of your chest, and you’re pretty sure he can feel it in your grip.

Outside, a sleek black car waits. He opens the door for you—of course he does—before circling around to the driver’s seat. As he starts driving through the Tokyo night, city lights flashing across the windshield, you feel his palm settle on your thigh. Casual. Familiar. Possessive.

The fabric of your dress gives way easily, and he pushes it aside to expose more skin. His thumb traces lazy circles, each stroke rising higher and slower. You glance over at him—one hand on the wheel, the other teasing your skin, jaw clenched like he’s fighting his own instincts. His tongue flicks over his bottom lip as he stares straight ahead.

“Harry,” you whisper, a warning.

“I know.” His voice is tight. “I’m trying to behave.”

You cross your legs—his hand trapped between your thighs—and smirk when he groans softly.

“I’m not helping, am I?”

“Not even a little bit.”

By the time you pull up to the restaurant, the tension is a third passenger. He gets out first and opens your door, helping you out with a hand on the small of your back.

Inside, the restaurant is dimly lit and draped in quiet opulence. You recognize a few faces—actors, models, names that make your chest flutter—but Harry doesn’t flinch. He nods to a few people, murmurs a polite “Evenin’,” and keeps his focus on you like you’re the only thing that matters.

The host brings you to a secluded corner table.

You sit. So does he.

And for a moment, there’s only silence between you as you both settle into this new version of each other—outside of hotel rooms and stolen moments.

You order drinks and food you barely look at.

Then he leans forward, resting his forearms on the table.

“You look stunning,” he says softly.

You flush, letting out a quiet laugh. “That’s… kinda basic.”

He smirks. “Not wrong, though.”

There’s a beat of quiet before you ask, “So… is this normal for you?”

“What, Tokyo flings?”

You shrug. “Hooking up with fans. Picking them up for dates the next day. Finding their numbers even when they never gave it to you.”

He chuckles, swirling the wine in his glass. “No. This is new.”

You raise a brow. “Seriously?”

He nods. “I don’t usually chase. But you…” He lifts his gaze to yours. “You left before I was done.”

You glance down at your plate, heart skittering. “That night wasn’t supposed to mean anything.”

“And yet here we are.” He pauses. “Unless… it didn’t mean anything to you?”

You hesitate.

“No. It meant something.” You meet his eyes. “Too much, actually. And it’s troubling because as we both know, I have someone back home.”

He leans back in his chair, quiet for a moment. “How is that going?”

“It’s… complicated,” you say, voice low. “Not official. Not fulfilling either. But still… something.”

Harry watches you for a moment, his fingers tapping lightly on his glass.

“I’m not asking for forever,” he finally says. “I just… don’t want this to be pretend. Not tonight.”

You let that settle between you. It shouldn’t feel this intense. You’re leaving. You’re not supposed to want this. But everything about him pulls you in like gravity.

“I want honesty, Harry,” you say quietly. “If you’re just being sweet to make the sex better, say it now. I can take it.”

His eyes flash. “Sometimes people can’t differentiate between sweet and polite. I’m not sweet, love. Not unless I mean it.”

Your breath catches at the way his voice dips, slow and thick.

You change the subject slightly, trying to cool the heat in your chest. “What would people think if they saw you here? With someone like me.”

He smiles. “They’ll think I have good taste.”

You roll your eyes, but your cheeks flush.

Dinner comes, but the food is just background. Conversation flows in between sips of wine and stolen glances—music, childhood memories, strange fan encounters, what Tokyo means to both of you. There’s laughter. There’s curiosity. And there’s that ever-present ache humming underneath it all.

By dessert, you’re no longer thinking about home.

By the time he pulls the car around again, your leg is draped over his, and his hand is under the slit of your dress again—this time, with more intention.

When he pulls up in front of your hotel, you don’t wait for him to open your door.

You open it yourself. Walk inside without a word.

He follows.

⊹ ࣪ ˖₊˚⊹⋆ ⊹ ࣪ ˖₊˚⊹⋆ ⊹ ࣪ ˖₊˚⊹⋆ ⊹ ࣪ ˖₊˚⊹⋆ ⊹ ࣪ ˖₊˚⊹⋆ ⊹ ࣪ ˖₊˚⊹⋆ ⊹

📝 Author’s Note:

THANK YOUUUUU to everyone who has shown support for the first two chapters!!!! I definitely going to lead this one more on the fluff and happy ending side. Every Y/N deserves a good life, I believe.

Ps. Next chapter will be filthy!!!!! 👀

[elleaitch22]

Love on Fire

Chapter 5: Peanut

Pairing: Paige Bueckers x Azzi Fudd

A/N: I don’t know if I can write a story without angst. I’m so sorry for this chapter. Please don’t hate me. I hope (somehow) you love it!! xx Elle (ps, remember there is still a lot more story to go!)

Warnings: Fertility treatment, medical procedures, medical symptoms, bodily fluid (yay morning sickness)

Word Count: 3.5k words

-----------------------------------

Week 1:

The day after Azzi’s positive pregnancy test, she was back in Dr. Caldwell’s office. This time, her knee bounced with a quiet hope.

“Okay, hun. We’re just going to take a little bit of blood, and I’ll be out of your hair.” A sweet, Southern nurse stated.

For once, Azzi was happy to be suck with a needle.

“What are we looking for with the bloodwork?” Paige asked, standing next to their table.

The nurse retracted the needle and covered the wound with gauze. “Well, we just need her Beta hCG to be above 50. It should only take about ten minutes to get the results. Dr. Caldwell will be in with the results.”

The friends nodded as the woman walked out.

Their minds started racing.

Azzi thought about baby shower themes. She’d be six months around St. Patrick’s Day. Maybe something about being lucky. Should she find out the gender before the baby shower or let herself be surprised after birth. Maybe it could have pies. Like a little cutie pie?

She absentmindedly caressed her flat belly. Would she be one of those moody pregnant women? Gosh, she hoped that she wouldn’t have morning sickness, especially not the kind that lasted the whole pregnancy.

One thing she didn’t have to question was Paige. She’d been so patient over the last three months. She was always there with a snack or an uplifting remark, just to encourage her.

Paige thought about Azzi. She prayed that the levels would be what they needed to be. That this would be a healthy, happy, smooth pregnancy, giving Azzi the perfect little baby she deserved.

She thought about how gorgeous she’d be round with pregnancy. She wondered if she would get the same roundness in her face that she had when they were teenagers. She pictured her grumpy and glowing, trying to trick Paige into a foot massage, even though she knew Paige hated feet. But she would do it anyway. Because she was in love with her.

She pictured a little girl with big brown eyes and perfect ringlets, just like her mother. She pictured a toddler wobbling as she walked to hug Paige. A high pitched, perfect laugh. She would be perfect.

“So, I was thinking yesterday,” Paige started, breaking the silence, “If it’s a boy, maybe you can name him Kyrie or Klay. And for a girl, maybe Maya or Sue?”

Azzi slowly turned to her best friend, “You want me to name the kid after basketball players we’ve met once?”

Paige giggled, “Just wanted to lighten the mood a little. You seem like you’re in your head.”

A quick knock sounded at the door before it opened. “Congratulations Ms. Fudd!” The doctor smiled, the first time Azzi had ever seen the expression. “Your hCG is a 73, which is right where we want it to be. I’m not going to bother with an ultrasound today, because you won’t be able to see anything. You will need to come back in two days. So we can make sure your hCG is at least 146, alright?”

“Um, yes. Thank you. Is there anything I should be aware of?” Azzi questioned.

“Some of my moms are worried when they have light spotting. If you experience this, it is likely implantation bleeding. But it. should not be more than spotting. Call us if you have any concerns.” Dr. Caldwell answered.

Azzi nodded, “Okay. I’ll see you on Thursday. Thank you so much, Dr. Caldwell.”

“Of course. Congratulations, Mommies.” She said, heading out.

The room was quiet when she left.

Mommies.

Paige was reeling. Nobody had ever called Paige a mommy before. She didn’t know if she was even allowed to feel happy about being called that. It made her excited, hopeful.

-----------------------------------

Week 5:

Azzi had been on top of the world, and nobody knew why except for Paige.

Even with her mood swings from her progesterone pills, nothing every kept her mood down for longer than a couple of minutes.

Except now she was nervous.

Today, she would be going in to see her baby. She was cautiously optimistic. For every blog she’d read about IUI success, there were three more about loss. It was most common that a loss came before ten weeks, so they just had to make it that far.

She was sitting on the table with a paper gown. She wished Paige was with her so badly, but somehow, they had scheduled the appointment during one of her shifts. She was supposed to get off in time to meet her at the clinic, but a few minutes before Azzi left the bakery, Paige called to tell her there was a car accident, and that she would miss it.

The ultrasound technician came in with a small smile. “Good afternoon, Ms. Fudd. I’m Fiona. Today, we’re going to do a transvaginal ultrasound. Hopefully this will be your last one for a while.” She giggled. “Since you’re only five weeks, we aren’t looking for body parts or a heartbeat. I don’t want you to get alarmed.”

Warm gel covered the wand before Azzi was examined. Fiona hit a few buttons on the machine before turning the screen to Azzi.

“I know it doesn’t look like much now, just an oval, but that’s the gestational sac.” She gestured to a tiny dot on the side of the circle. “And that bright little dot right there, that’s your baby. It’s tiny right now, but it’s growing fast”

Azzi’s breath caught in her throat. She beamed and looked to the chair beside her. The smile faded a little when she remembered she was alone today.

She tried to hold onto the smile, but it tugged at the edges. Paige would’ve loved this. The wonder in her eyes, the “wow” whispered under her breath, the way she always reached for Azzi’s hand during big moments. And now, all Azzi had was an empty chair.

“I know it’s not really showing much,” Azzi started, “But do you think I could a couple of pictures to show my friends and family?”

Azzi walked out of the clinic with a huge weight lifted off her shoulders and six ultrasound photos ready for her to send to the family members who knew she was trying for a baby.

She wasn’t really paying attention to where she was going, just riding the high of another successful doctor’s appointment. So, it wasn’t really a surprise when she wound up outside the fire station.

Unlike the last time she was here, there was no one outside. A peak inside the doors showed the engine, squad, and ambulance bays vacant. She decided to wait a little while for them to return. Caroline told her to take the day and relax, so it’s not like she had anything important to do.

One of the off-duty firefighters, Chet, was sitting at. The front desk. Azzi gave him a small smile as she made her way to the kitchen. She hated cooking at the firehouse. Most times, their ingredients looked like someone went shopping after smoking instead of going with a list.

There were lots of cup noodles and buldak ramen. Bags of hot fries and takis. There was a defrosted pack of chicken breasts. Azzi could work with that. The pantry had barbeque sauce and honey.  Some chicken broth that had probably been in there for years.

Thirty minutes later, honey barbeque chicken and broccoli simmered while she waited for the rice to finish.

She walked around the firehouse tired, choosing to take a nap until the crew came back.

When the crew returned an hour later, they all saw Azzi’s black Grand Cherokee parked in the front. While the other members in the squad truck clowned Paige, the blonde was panicking.

Azzi hadn’t said anything about coming to the station today. She had her doctor’s appointment today, and Paige cursed herself for not being able to be with her. What if something happened, and she’d been at the station to find Paige, and she wasn’t even there.

The truck hadn’t even come to a complete stop when Paige was out of the truck. She didn’t bother to take off her turnouts or her boots. Her footsteps were heavy as she rushed through the house. Peeking her head in every room she passed until her eyes landed on the brunette.

She sighed deeply, hands on her knees. Azzi was curled up on the couch, eyes closed and mouth open.

Her hand automatically reached out to touch her face, but when her eyes caught a glance of her dirty hands, she jerked them back quickly.

“Azzi,” She whispered. Her brows turned down a bit, but no real sign of consciousness.

Before Paige could call her again, a yell rang out through the house.

“Ayo P-Ski! Tell your wife thank you for lunch!” Edwards exclaimed.

Azzi’s head popped up, looking around confused until her eyes landed on Paige. “You’re all dirty.” She blinked lazily, a small smile on her lips.

“Is everything okay?” Paige whispered, almost scared to hear the answer.

One brown eye squinted open, “Yeah. What are you talking about?”

“You didn’t say you were coming over. And I wasn’t able to come to the appointment.” She sighed, relieved. “How was it?”

Azzi popped up full of energy. “Oh! I came over so I could show you something!” She reached into her back pocket, wide grin on her face.

A black and white picture what thrusted in Paige’s face. She moved her head back a little. Her eyes darted up. “That black hole. That’s the baby?” She asked, breathily.

The brunette giggled, “No. That the sac that the baby’s in.” She pointed to a small circle in the black hole. “You see that? That’s the baby. That teeny little bright dot. That’s the start of it all.” She said warmly.

“Wow,” She breathed. “It’s just a little peanut.” She knelt before she even noticed. “Hi, Peanut, I’m Paige. I’m your – I’ll be your Paigey.” She stayed like that for a second, silent, reverent.

Her stance reminded Azzi of her praying over her abdomen before she gave her the trigger shot. That thought was enough for tears to flood her eyes.

“Paige are you –” Stewie’s voice sounded from around the corner. The tall woman was in the doorway before they knew it. Her eyes darted from Paige, to Azzi, to the small slip held in Paige’s hands. Her eyes widened as she gasped, “Azzi! You’re pregnant?”

Paige stood, body slightly angled in front of her best friend. “She isn’t telling people yet.” Voice clipped, but still respectful. “She’s only five weeks.”

Breanna’s hands raised in innocence. “No worries. I won’t tell anybody. I remember how private Marta was about everything.” She smiled, “Congratulations!” She walked back down the hallway.

“Go shower, P. I’ll let you talk to the baby before I leave.” Azzi ran her hand over the sweat-slicked ponytail.

“Okay, Peanut.” Paige smiled. “I just got back from a fire, so I’m all dirty. I’ll talk to you in a little while.” She pecked the smooth, tanned skin, before standing. “I’m so happy for you, Az.”

Azzi flopped back onto the sofa, watching Paige leave. That was…intimate. Paige protected her from Stewie, one of the nicest people they knew. Paige kissed her belly. Paige talked to the little embryo that had no ears to hear her. She knew body parts hadn’t really formed yet, and she still talked to the baby.

She was just so sweet.

So pure.

So good.

So easy to love.

And maybe that was Azzi’s problem.

She didn’t know how long she could hold it all in before bursting.

-----------------------------------

Week 6:

Azzi was six weeks and six days pregnant, only three more weeks until she stopped having to go to the clinic every week.

This time, Paige was able to be at the appointment, and she was practically vibrating with energy.

“Do you think they’ll do an ultrasound today or just bloodwork?” Paige questioned, pacing around the room.

Azzi’s eyes tracked her movements, stifling a laugh at her nerves. “No blood test today, just an ultrasound.”

Wide blue eyes locked onto brown ones. “I’ll get to see the baby?” Voice hopeful. “Like really see Peanut, not just a picture?” She questioned.

“Yeah,” Azzi grinned, cheeks red.

Paige’s whole body deflated. Not with disappointment, but quiet relief.

The two sat in silence for a few minutes before an ultrasound technician came in. “Oh, she’s back with you.”

Neither woman knew if she was critiquing Paige’s presence, but they didn’t care.

“Okay, you ready to see your baby?” She asked, rolling the ultrasound closer.

“Yes!” Paige exclaimed immediately, already leaning closer.

Azzi slid down the table a bit. She breathed in deeply as the woman inserted the wand. Brows twitching as she moved the wand inside of her.

“Hmm,” the woman said.

Azzi’s heart stuttered, “What do you mean?”

“I’m having trouble finding the fetus.” She murmured.

“What?!” Two voices called out.

Azzi shot up and Paige’s stomach dropped.

The ultrasound technician nodded absentmindedly. “Since the fetus is so small, it can be hard to locate.” She paused, moving the wand again. “Oh! There it is!” She said, cheerfully.

She pressed a few buttons before turned the screen to the duo. Another button push and –

Badum. Badum. Badum. Badum.

“Is that the heartbeat?” Azzi said, voice shaky. Tears filled her eyes. That was her baby’s heartbeat.

The tech smiled kindly. “Yeah, that’s your baby’s heartbeat.

“Oh my God.” Paige whispered.

Anything else the ultrasound technician wasn’t heard. Paige and Azzi sat, hands wrapped tightly around each other. They were just listening to the thud of a quick heartbeat and watching the future on that screen.

The woman gave the two women a few copies of the ultrasound without talking. “Dr. Caldwell will be in shortly.”

The room was quiet when she left. Both women started at the papers they were just given.

Paige played with brown curls absently, and Azzi leant into the touch without thinking.

“Good morning. Based on the measurements, your due date is June 12, 2026.” She said, plainly. “You are almost seven weeks, so we will forgo the eight week scan, and I will see you when you are ten weeks. Do you have any questions for me?”

Azzi was looking forward to graduating from the clinic so that she could have a different OB, one who wasn’t robotic. “Um, is there anything I should be looking out for?” She questioned.

The other woman shook her head. “Limit your caffeine. You are aware that you cannot have deli meats, unpasteurized cheese, raw meat or sushi. Make sure you are taking your prenatal vitamins, folic acid, and progesterone daily. Your uterus is expanding, so you make experience some cramping and even light spotting. That is not concerning unless it is constant or heavy. If either of those things happen, go to the emergency room immediately. No vigorous activities you weren’t already doing.”

Paige was already typing everything into her notes app. Azzi glanced at her and almost smiled.

“Thank you Dr. Caldwell, I’ll see you in a few weeks.” Azzi smiled.

As Paige and Azzi walked out to the car, “Do you think it’s too early to tell Bob and Katie?”

Paige looked at her quickly, “If you want to, I think you should.”

Azzi rolled her eyes, “You never give me a straight answer with stuff like this.” She pouted.

“Yeah, because if you end up regretting it, you’re going to yell at me.” She laughed.

“Whatever,” Azzi crossed her arms over her chest. “Can you take me to the store? I want to get a few things so I can make a surprise box. Then, I’ll give it to them whenever.” She huffed.

-----------------------------------

Week 10:

Azzi’s boobs hurt. Her stomach hurt. She’d been cramping for the last week. Just light ones, nothing crazy, and no blood. She was always tired. She threw up all the time. She. Had no idea why they called it morning sickness if that shit can literally hit at any point in the fucking day. She was moody, and she couldn’t control it, so it made her sad.

But she was getting a little bump on her abdomen. Nothing crazy, but she noticed a tiny little mound on her previously flat stomach was she’d gotten out of the shower a couple of days ago.

She talked to her baby all the time, well, whenever she was alone, with Caroline, or with Paige. She talked about the dreams she had about being with Peanut. How she wanted to teach them how to shoot a basketball. How to bake cakes with a little extra love. How to read.

She talked about Paige. And how she didn’t know who Paige would be to Peanut, but that she would always be there. Always be Paigey. She talked about how in love she was with the blonde. How she would be the baby’s other mom in an ideal world.

She talked about everything with her baby.  Even though the baby couldn’t hear yet, the idea that she was talking to her baby was very comforting.

Azzi was doing light makeup in the mirror when she heard her front door open.

“Happy ten weeks Jazlyn!” Paige called as she walked in. Azzi heard her keys land on the kitchen counter and footsteps coming to her bedroom. “We’re going to be late.” She groaned.

Azzi was sitting on the floor in front of her biggest window, oversized hoodie hanging off her frame. “We still have ten minutes before we have to leave. You’re being dramatic.” She rolled her eyes.

It took her five minutes to pull on a pair of loose jeans to hide her bump a little. The cropped tank top was covered with a colorful pullover.

“See! I told you I’d be ready on time.” She beamed, walking into the kitchen.

“Yeah, yeah.” She rolled her eyes. “I brought kumquats and tater tots for your ten week snack. I hope neither of these make you throw up.” Paige grimaced.

Every week, since week seven, Paige had brought a fruit or snack the size that Peanut was. It was sweet, dorky, cute, and absolutely perfect. And Azzi loved it.

She came to kneel in front of Azzi. “Okay Peanut! Ready to get your picture taken?” She asked.

The appointment went smoothly, and the pair went out to lunch to celebrate Azzi and Peanut’s graduation from Dr. Caldwell to an actual obstetrician.

“Now that we have a real ultrasound, I think I can tell Katie and Bob.” Azzi smiled, looking at the printout of the little Peanut.

Paige scooted closer so she could look too. “Peanut really looks like a peanut now.” She laughed. “Look at Peanut’s big ass head. Definitely your kid, Az.”

Azzi rolled her eyes at the teasing. “Shut up. That’s a perfectly sized head.” She paused. “Peanut has grown so much since the last ultrasound,” She finished proudly.

“When are you wanting to tell them? We can have dinner over there on Friday or Saturday.” Paige sipped her lemonade.

Azzi thought. She had already made the announcement box. She ordered a onesie off Etsy that said, “Mimi and Papa’s Favorite Arriving June 2026”. She got these little, white, knitted booties. And the ultrasound was going to be the perfect way to finish the surprise.

“I think maybe Friday? We can stay over there as long as we want since we don’t have to work in the morning.” Azzi was so excited to tell them.

Paige nodded, getting her phone out to text her dad. “Alright. You got five days to change your mind.” She joked.

They both knew she wasn’t going to change her mind. They knew she couldn’t wait to tell the people who had been supporting her since she found out.

-----------------------------------

Week 10, Day 3:

Azzi woke up on Thursday in pain.

She’d been cramping for a few days now, but when she asked Dr. Caldwell, she told her not to worry about it unless it came with blood.

She’d been keeping an eye on how intense the cramping was, but this morning was much worse than she’d been experiencing.

The brunette took out her phone and texted Caroline and KK that she wasn’t coming in today, just to be safe.

She was nauseous. She didn’t know if it was because of the morning sickness or because of the nerves. Her boobs weren’t hurting as much as they had been.

Her cramping had spread to her lower back, and they ramped up in her pelvis. She took a hot shower, hoping it would help with the pain, but it didn’t.

She was heating up a muffin when she felt the first rush.

Warm. Like she’d just started her period.

She was numb, ears ringing as she walked to the bathroom.

Not just a few drop from spotting.

Bright red. Fresh. A flood.

She stayed, just sitting on the toilet unable to move. Ten seconds. Ten minutes. Ten hours. She couldn’t tell.

Shaky hands pulled the phone out of her hoodie pocket.

Princess 💗👸🏽👩🏽‍🍳: I’m bleeding. A lot

She sits there staring at the wall.

Paigey 💗🧑🏼‍🚒🔥❤️‍🔥: fuck. im otw

[coco-loco-nut]

Real Gone

pairing: liam lawson x reader

summary: she’s american made, he’s got high-payed friends, and they are about to clash

a/n: i’m back and it’s a long one 😎

masterlist requests open

————————

“How are you going to spend your week break?” Nolan asks as you both walk into Christian’s motorhome, taking a seat on a couch. The post-race media is over, you’ve all showered, and it’s time for a debrief.

“The couch in my apartment and a few bottles of wine,” you subtly roll your shoulders in an effort to soothe your sore neck.

“Are we allowed to join?” Christian asks, sitting on the other side of you.

“Dude, that’s code for watching movies all day for like a month,” Nolan replies for you.

“I’ll have you know that I do train every day, and after spending all of may and most of June with you guys, I want a break,” you lean your head back, letting to cooler air wash over you. “All love though,” you add on.

“I thought we had something special,” Nolan pouts.

“I’m surprised you don’t have reserve driver duties this weekend,” Christian shrugs as he kicks his feet up on his coffee table.

“Stop, you’ll jinx it and I’ll be in Austria by Wednesday,” you glare, raising your middle finger to emphasize your words.

“That would suck,” Nolan agrees. You open your mouth to reply as your phone starts ringing.

“Aaaaaand you jinxed it. It’s Zak,” you frown.

“Ooo, put it on speaker,” Nolan leans in as you answer it, quickly abiding by Nolan’s request.

“Great racing today, Y/n. The whole team did great,” Zak starts.

“Thanks, Boss. I’ll let the guys know, I’m sure they will appreciate it,”

“Look, I’m calling to let you know you are needed this weekend. Lando is out for the race and you are in. Someone will send you the travel information shortly,” the line goes dead and you hang your head.

“We have a four race stretch after next week,” your dejection is clear to your teammates, who don’t really know how to cheer you up.

“We can fly over and support you!” Nolan offers. He doesn’t notice the look Christian gives him that says ‘I will murder you’.

“For the race, of course,” Christian accepts his fate as you pull them into a hug.

“Best teammates ever,” you whisper as your phone dings, letting you know the travel plans have been sent to you. “God, I better get to the airport soon so I can pack,” you stand up, taking a few steps to the door.

“We will see you Saturday night,” Christian calls out behind you as you rush to back and catch your flight back to Indianapolis. As you wait in your ride, you send a text to the marketing team asking for assistance in getting Nolan and Christian to the race. Their assurance that it will be handled helps you relax a bit and as you step into the airport it hits you.

“I’m making my Formula One debut,” you whisper before shaking it off and getting through security.

Thankfully, you go straight to the MTC on Tuesday to catch up and run some simulation before leaving with the team on Wednesday.

“Ready to go?” Oscar knocks on your hotel door.

“Can you make sure I have everything?” you ask as you open the door, eyes a little frantic.

“Sure,” Oscar’s relaxed voice and shrug puts more at ease as he runs through a quick checklist with you. “It’s just media day. I’ll write you a list for tomorrow, and it’s not that different from F2,” the last part he lied about, but it works for you.

“Cool, cool. Yeah, let’s go,” you grab your bag, triple checking you have your credentials, then follow Oscar like a baby duckling.

“Y/n!” a familiar British voice calls your name as you enter the paddock.

“Ollie!” you smile, jogging ahead to hug your former rival. Oscar smiles a bit to himself, relieved he isn’t the only person you know other than Jack.

“How’s Indycar treating you?” Ollie asks, leading you into the paddock.

“Great, I love it. Second in the championship which is much better than seventh,” you reply. “I was looking forward to my week off though. I’ve got four races back-to-back after this,” a shudder rolls down your body.

“Hey, who’s Ollie talking to?” Liam approaches Oscar who jumps a little.

“Y/n, our reserve driver. She races for the Indycar team,” Oscar tells him before offering to introduce Liam to you.

“Yeah, that would be great,” Liam notices black lines peeking out from the sleeve of your team shirt.

“Hey, Y/n, this is Liam. Drives for VCARB,” Oscar makes the introduction before being summoned away.

“Nice to meet you,” you shake his hand.

“How do you know Ollie?” Liam asks curiously.

“We raced together in F2. Jack was actually her teammate,”

“Ollie beat me for fifth by a few points, then I left for Indycar,” you smile.

“Weird question, but do you have a tattoo,” Liam asks, glancing at your right arm.

“Yeah, I do,” you turn slightly and lift your sleeve, displaying a sideways lightning bolt with a 95 in the middle.

“Lightning McQueen? I love Cars!” Liam lights up.

“I do too! I watch it probably once a race weekend, it’s my number too outside of Indycar,” you grin.

“I’m going to say hi to Kimi, I’ll catch you later,” Ollie leaves you with Liam.

“I could probably quote the movie,” Liam tells you as he leads you to the team motorhomes.

“I do, fans are always asking me to. It’s becoming a problem actually,” you laugh.

“Fans here will love you then, giving me a run for my money as the biggest Cars fan,” Liam joins your laughter. As you walk through the small crowd, conversation easily flows, so much so that you feel a bit sad when you part ways. Especially when your bonded over your dislike of the third movie.

“Made a new friend?” Oscar asks as you step inside. There is a hint of amusement in his eyes, almost like he’s a proud older brother despite only being less than a year older than you.

“Yeah he’s nice,” you shrug.

“Good, you were selected for the press conference. Liam and Jack are in your group,” Oscar informs you, watching your eyes light up. “Also, you may want to change shirts,”

“Why- oh fuck,” your eyes drift down to the words Indycar team. “I think I just grabbed the first one on top,” you feel the heat rise to your cheeks in embarrassment.

“There should be a spare in your drivers room. Once you change you can tell me how it feels to drive the Indy 500,” Oscar gently shoos you away before marketing films you wearing the wrong team kit.

“Okay, all better,” you return a few minutes later after having to ask someone where you were going.

“So I watched you place fourth, but how does it feel to be behind the wheel?” Oscar asks as you sit down, not realizing there is a camera on both of you.

“Crazy fast, the car is built specifically for ovals so it’s asymmetrical and that is a weird feeling at first. Might be one of the hardest cars to drive just because of that,” you try not to nerd out. “Wait, you watched the race?”

Oscar genuinely smiles at the way your eyes light up. He notices the team filming the conversation but acts like he doesn’t. The cameras shouldn’t take away from the authenticity of the conversation.

“Of course, it’s a monumental race and our sister team had a driver on the front row,” he downplays his words, like it doesn’t mean much. But it means a lot to you.

“Thanks, I really appreciate the support,” you try to mask the wave of emotions. Thankfully for you, your savior comes in someone telling you that you have to leave now to attend the drivers’ press conference.

“Right there between Liam and Jack,” a production assistant points to the middle of the couch. Jack stands as you approach to give you a quick hug.

“I heard you were in the paddock, nice to see you again, Lightning,” Jack squeezes you then sits down.

“Nice to see you too. Too bad we can be teammates this time,” you smile fondly and take your seat. A few moments later the crew indicates filming has started.

“Let’s start with you, Y/n. You’ve yet to drive an F1 car, how are you feeling?” the interviewer asks and you turn on the PR mode you don’t always need in Indycar.

“A bit nervous, yeah. I think anyone making their F1 debut would feel this way. I tested over the winter, but obviously I haven’t gotten an FP1 session yet. I’m hoping my skills from F2 and Indycar transfer well enough to get some points for the team,” your reply is exactly what the team would want you to say and it seems to satisfy your obligation until other journalists can ask questions.

“I have a question for Y/n. What are some things that your Indycar fans know about you that you think Formula One fans should know,” the words take a second in your mind to process before you answer.

“Um, I raced in F2 for a year with Jack over here and placed seventh before moving to Indycar where I currently race with Arrow Mclaren. I took home fourth in this years Indy 500. And, uh, I have a Lightning McQueen tattoo. I think that’s it, I’m sure you will learn more throughout the weekend,” you feel a bit awkward as there is a moment of silence while your answer is noted and journalists consider their questions.

“She might be a bigger fan than I am,” Liam adds lightheartedly, noticing your awkward demeanor.

“She definitely is. We watched it a lot on flights, like a lot. If it wasn’t a flight it was probably on her phone between sessions and meetings,” Jack laughs, poking fun at you.

“It wasn’t that often,” you retaliate but backtrack a little when Jack gives you a pointed looks. “Okay, god forbid a girl has a hobby of watching her favorite movie series,” shaking your head with a smile. you lower your mic so another question can be asked. Thankfully you are spared as time soon runs out.

“Let’s catch up a bit before your social team makes you film videos,” Jack says as you both stand up. Your respective team members linger behind you, offering a bit of privacy while doing their jobs.

“Definitely. How’s F1 treating you?” you ask as you both walk away.

“It’s rough, but that’s what happens when Flavio manages you and the team. How’s Indycar treating you?” Jack spins the question back on you.

“Great. Just got off of a double-header and next week starts a four race back-to-back stretch. So seven races in a row for me,” you shudder a little.

“Your poor neck. Maybe Mclaren should return the favor and send Lando or Oscar over to race for you,” Jack sympathizes. The paddock is a bit more alive this time, more fans and team staff members buzzing around.

“I think they’d put Kyle Larson or some random rookie in first,” you chuckle, letting a comforting silence fall between you and your former teammate.

“How is oval racing?”

“Wicked fast, more dangerous than you think too. I was shitting myself with nerves the first lap or two until i got the hang of it. Maybe I’ll take you on a hot lap next year,” your reply is met with a small hum and nod in agreement. “I did miss this though. Maybe I should’ve done a second year in F2,” you change the topic and Jack stops briefly to look at you properly.

“Don’t say that. You are doing great in Indycar, you are a reserve driver for F1, and you are making a debut this weekend as one of the best in the world. That’s more than a lot of drivers could ask for. You have talent and another year there wouldn’t change that,” Jack gives you a pep talk just like he would when you were teammates.

“Thanks, I needed to hear that. We need to stay connected after this race. I need my friend,” you nudge him lightly with your elbow.

“We will, maybe we can even go on vacation during the summer break,” Jack proposes as you near the Alpine motorhome.

“I’ll hold you to that,” you give him a smile before walking away. One of the Mclaren team members takes the spot beside you and gives you a run down of the day. Many sponsor videos, social media videos - including a rapidfire get to know you- meetings, and a track walk later, you are finally done for the day. Your phone dings with a text, but Oscar stops you before you can read it.

“I’m getting dinner with Charles and Max if you’d like to join?” Oscar offers.

“Can I let you know once we get back to the hotel? I need to get away from here before I can decide,” you stifle a yawn. A nap would also be preferred, maybe ordering in is the move.

“Yeah, let’s head out, it’s been a long day,” Oscar’s tone doesn’t sound annoyed, keeping you from worrying. One you get into the car you check your phone, seeing multiple texts. Some from Christian and Nolan asking about your first day in the paddock, and one from an unknown number. You open it up and a smile creeps onto your face.

Hey, it’s Liam. I got your number from Jack so I hope this is the right one. I’m at the same hotel as you and figured I’d ask if you wanted to grab dinner :)

Your reply is quick, asking if he doesn’t mind ordering in and watching a movie, to which he quickly replies yes. You send him your room number and tell him you will let him know when you’re back.

“I’m going to pass on dinner, maybe after the race?” you offer an alternative.

“That’s okay, I’ll ask them about Sunday. I know it’s a lot your first night,” Oscar reassures you.

Once you get back to your room you quickly make it look presentable and change into more cozy attire. Hopefully Liam doesn’t mind your laid back appearance. He shows up a couple minutes after you text with a pizza wearing an oversized tee and basketball shorts.

“I hope you don’t mind me bringing a pizza, Jack actually recommended it,” Liam says, setting it on the desk by the TV.

“I think I know why you are here,” you sit on the bed, watching Liam fidget like you’ve figured out his deepest secret. “You want an excuse to watch Cars,” at your words he visibly relaxes.

“Yeah, you caught me. I was betting on you watching it tonight,” Liam hands you a plate with a warm slice of pizza on it. It smells heavenly. You both sit at the top of the bed, backs against the headboard, as you log into Disney+ and start the movie.

“Okay, Here We Go. Focus. Speed. I’m speed. One winner. 42 losers. I eat losers for Breakfast. Breakfast? Wait, maybe I should have had breakfast? A little brecky could be good for me. No, no, no, stay focused. Speed! I'm faster than fast, quicker than quick! I’m Lightning!” you and Liam say in unison with the movie. You lock eyes and share a small shy smile.

“Lightning. Is that where Jack got his nickname for you?” Liam asks as the sound of engines and Sheryl Crow fills the room.

“Yeah. It’s kinda embarrassing but I say that to get in the zone before a race. Jack and the team caught me once when I left the radio button on,” you flush as Liam chuckles.

“That’s cute. I read somewhere that some lucky fans get you to recite it for them,” Liam’s eyes watch you blush deeper in embarrassment before you turn it around on him.

“Looking me up now on the internet, Lawson?” your eyes are filled with amusement as it’s Liam’s turn to blush and stutter an excuse. “Relax, I’m just joking,” you smile and settle back into the movie.

As the movie nears its end your eyes begin to get heavy. The dark room lit only by the television, the warmth of Liam beside you, and familiar sound of Cars all work to lull you into sleep. Liam notices the way your head seems to get heavier and your fight to stay awake, but he doesn’t mention it.

“Thanks for watching with me, and the pizza,” you yawn after the movie, escorting him to the door.

“Thanks for letting me crash your room,” Liam yawns as well.

The next night you find yourself inviting Liam over for the second movie and once again you are both laying on your bed with the television lighting the room. Only this time Liam sits closer to you, and you don’t mind.

“I heard you play guitar,” you say randomly, grabbing the attention of the blonde boy beside you.

“I do, who’s the stalker now?” Liam teases.

“It popped up on my feed,” you defend yourself before turning your attention to the movie. “Do you think Lewis watches himself in this, and if he does do you think it’s weird?” you ask, grabbing Liam’s attention again.

“I don’t know, but i’m sure it is weird to see yourself in car form,” Liam’s reply isn’t met with a response by you, instead you both get drawn in by the cheesy spy plot. You discuss track strategy for some of the races on the movie.

As the movie nears its end, Liam feels a weight on his shoulder. Your deep breaths tell him all he needs to know, you are fast asleep. The flutter in his heart is strange. He doesn’t want to move, he wants to stay in this spot the rest of the night. Maybe even wrap his arms around you and fall asleep himself. But you are just friends. So Liam turns off the movie and carefully puts a blanket over you, making sure he leaves quietly as to not disturb you.

You wake a few minutes later in a slight panic, confused where Liam went and why the television is off. The buzz from the text you just received answers your panic. With a yawn, you get comfortable again and fall back to sleep.

The next night you fall into the same pattern, only this time Liam falls asleep too. Your phones alarm wakes both of you up the next morning. Liam’s arm is around your waist, which he quickly pulls away when you both realize what happens.

“Shit, my phone is dead,” Liam breaks the silence, not even acknowledging that you were cuddling just a moment ago.

“It’s early, I like to wake up earlier than usual on race days,” you reassure him, sitting up as the early morning sun streams through the curtains.

“I feel like I should treat you to breakfast, make up for the skipped steps,” he scratches the back of his neck, looking guilty despite his lack of control over the situation.

“It’s not your fault you fell asleep, you don’t have to,” you attempt to refuse. Liam’s heart swells a little at the blush dusting your cheeks. How can you look so good this early in the morning?

“I insist, it’ll make me feel better,” Liam insists as your stomach growls.

“But we both are in no shape to be seen in public,” you give a last ditch excuse despite your inner pull to him.

“I’ll meet you back here in twenty minutes so I can charge my phone and change,” Liam smiles and leaves your room after gathering his things.

As soon as the door clicks closed, you rush to get a shower and get ready. And as you stand in front of the mirror putting final touches on your quick makeup look, you wonder why it feels like a date and why you have that mix of nerves and excitement. The knock on your door tells you Liam has arrived.

You open the heavy door to see him in a well fitting button down and tailored dress pants.

“You look nice,” you can’t fight the blush that rises to your cheeks as you grab your small purse from the table beside the door.

“So do you,” Liam does a better job at hiding his blush. Maybe it’s because you want to stare at him but also feel like you might combust if you meet his gaze. It’s probably that.

Liam takes you to the cute restaurant attached to the hotel. Thankfully you are early enough to secure a table since breakfast service just started.

Neither of you notice fans taking photos, you are too immersed in your conversation. You swap random race stories and funny things you’ve had to do for social media. You get to know each other on a deeper level too. You share setbacks alongside your successes, the family that supported you, and the ones who said you wouldn’t make it beyond karting. Liam learns that you weren’t a part of any junior program and it was almost pure luck you got picked up my Mclaren. The only thing that takes your attention away from Liam is the sound of familiar voices.

“Y/n,” you hear Christian almost shout in your ear.

“When did you guys get here?” you shoot out of your seat and nearly tackle your teammates.

“Last night, we texted you that we were on the way to the hotel,” Nolan looks around you at Liam, trying to figure out what you are doing.

“I was probably asleep, I passed out while watching-“

“Cars,” Nolan and Christian finish your sentence.

“It was Cars 3 actually,” Liam adds from his seat.

“Guys, this is Liam. He races for one of the Red Bull teams,” you give a very basic introduction despite both of them knowing who Liam is.

“Ah, the F1 version of you. Wait, how does he know what you were watching?” Nolan asks and gasps when he thinks he connected the dots.

“Accidental sleepover, and not in that way,” you shake your head. Liam glances at his watch and stands up.

“I’ve got the bill, we need to get to the track,” Liam tells you.

“Thanks for breakfast,” you fight the urge to kiss his cheek and stand awkwardly before Christian pulls you away.

“You two are worse than middle schoolers with a crush,” Nolan says in the elevator back to your room. You guffaw at the statement until Christian gives you a look.

“It’s clear you both like each other. Fans are already pointing out the way you two are always together in the paddock and how you look at each other,” Christian’s words take you aback a bit.

“I’ve known him for three days,” your defense is weak.

“They are calling you McQueen and Sally, but Liam is Sally for some reason. Anyway it’s also, according to fans, a star-crossed lovers tragedy,” Nolan pulls up a Tiktok that highlights your apparent crush. Your mind starts to spin as you step off the elevator.

“Alright, enough of that. She needs to focus on the race,” Christian changed the topic to their flight. You notice a box outside of your hotel room door.

“We dropped this here when you didn’t answer the door. Marketing sent us with matching outfits,” Nolan explains and picks up the box so you can get into your room. Inside the box are cheesy t-shirts with your faces on them and sunglasses. They look like a cheesy Danny DeVito t-shirt you would find on Etsy and they are perfect.

“Oh my god,” you laugh, holding it up to show Nolan and Christian.

“Can we wear these to Mid-Ohio next week?” Nolan laughs with you, grabbing his.

“Absolutely,” Christians agreement is music to your ears. You put it over your sundress, tying it in the back with a hair tie to make it look better on you.

Nolan and Christian take turns in the bathroom to change while you finish packing your race bag.

“I’ve got the door,” Nolan says as he exits the bathroom, quick to answer whoever is knocking.

“Ready to- oh those are glorious,” Oscar laughs, noticing the three of you.

“They sent an extra if you want to match,” you reply.

“That’s all you. Lily is downstairs with the extra paddock passes,” Oscar tells you. Nolan and Christian follow you and Oscar like baby ducks.

“I love the matching outfits. How was your breakfast?” Lily asks you, almost ignoring Oscar.

“Really good, wait how did you-“

“I saw the new tiktoks. Fans are convinced you are secretly dating Liam. A lot are upset you won’t be reunited until COTA,” Lily shrugs.

“I don’t know if I’ll even be at COTA,” you shake your head as you all pile into the car. It’s a tight squeeze but you manage. Once you get to the track, Lily and Oscar go ahead of you, per Marketing’s instructions.

“I won the sprint race here in 2020,” Christian says as you scan in, demonstrating for Nolan.

“You know, sometimes I forget you guys raced the European circuit and not the American,” Nolan says once he successfully scans in.

“I’ll look into a hot lap experience for you on a European circuit,” you pat his shoulder.

“Nice shirt, Lightning,” Jack approaches, looking polished in his well-fitting tee and jeans.

“Thanks! Want one? I’m sure I can get you one,” you grin. “Guys, this is my former teammate, Jack. Jack, these are my teammates, Nolan and Christian,” your introduction is quick as both parties size eachother up.

“I watched Cars with her almost every weekend, and gave her her nickname,” Jack boasts as you fight laughter.

“I crash her couch and go to Disneyland with her to visit Cars Land,” Nolan attempts to show up Jack.

“Alright, enough dick measuring,” Christian shakes his head.

“Good luck today,” Jack pats your shoulder at walks away as you yell a quick ‘you too’ behind him.

The three of you continue on and make it to the McLaren motorhome before you are too late. The endless meetings, warm ups, and pre-race duties make the morning fly by and before you know it you are on a truck for the drivers parade beside Fernando Alonso and Liam.

“I drove Indy three times, very scary,” Fernando leans into you slightly like he’s sharing a deep secret.

“That’s what makes it fun. Nothing like getting shunted into a corner,” your eyes sparkle with amusement as Fernando lets out a small laugh.

“You are very brave,” his reply is enough to make you want to fangirl.

“You are too, um, everyone here is,” you awkwardly reply in an attempt to keep your cool.

“Smooth, y/n,” Liam smiles. Fernando slips away to talk to Lance, leaving you alone with Liam. Oscar is in deep conversation with Max and Charles on the other end of the truck, and Jack is laughing at something Pierre told him.

“I can’t help it. THE Fernando Alonso complimented me,” your body is a little jumpy, charged with excited energy. Someone reminds you to wave to fans as you pass a poster with your face on it. “Wow, look at that,” you point the poster out to Liam. As you lean in slightly, arm extended, someone accidentally bumps into you, sending you into Liam’s arms.

“Careful, don’t want you going viral for falling over,” Liam’s hands are warm as they hold onto your waist a second too long. His pinky brushes your bare skin as your polo rides up slightly. Your eyes lock with his, momentarily forgetting about the cameras and fans watching.

“Y/n,” Oscar calls you over, breaking the small spell you were under.

“I should go,” you stand up, subtly fixing your polo as you scurry across the vehicle to join your temporary teammate.

You don’t see Liam at all after the parade or race. There is a twinge of disappointment when you return to the hotel that you hadn’t received a congratulations about scoring points in a notoriously hard-to-drive car.

“Are your bags packed?” Christian asks as he lays on your hotel bed.

“Mostly. I just want to shower and change first. You guys should too,” you look up from your suitcase to find Nolan curled up on the hotel couch fast asleep.

“We can wake him later,” Christian shrugs as you take your things into the bathroom to start a shower. As the water runs he scrolls through social media, not realizing how much time has passed until he hears the buzzing of your hair dryer. He quickly pulls off his shirt and rummages through his bag to find a comfortable replacement.

A knock on the door makes Christian stop and head towards the small entryway.

“I’ve got it,” you emerge from the bathroom, dressed in a robe and hair still slightly damp. Christian stands awkwardly behind you as you pull open the door. “Hey Liam, what’s up?”

“Hey, I,” Liam spots Christian behind you and the state of dressing between both of you. “I just wanted to tell you to have a safe flight back to the States,” Liam takes a step away from the door, his eyes steeling themselves as he begins to walk away.

“Oh, okay. You have a safe trip too,” your voice is twisted in confusion as you back away from the doorway and close the door. Christian is tugging on a hoodie as Nolan snores softly. “That was weird,” you say to yourself before going back to the bathroom to finish getting ready for your flight.

The video of you and the boys wearing matching shirts goes great with fans, the shirts almost immediately selling out on the website. But what goes more viral are the video compilations of you and Liam over the weekend, more viral than before the race.

When you return to Indianapolis, your PR manager sets up a meeting to go over the weekend and the supposed relationship between you and Liam. Even better, following your successful stand-in, McLaren announces your participation in FP1 at Vegas and some races you’ll be attending as a reserve driver.

You do end up joining Jack on a mini vacation on an island beach soaking up the sun and slowing down for a few days. Oddly enough, you don’t hear much from Liam. He doesn’t like your posts or comment - much to the chagrin of fans - and you don’t receive many texts or replies. Even when you win a race you only hear from Jack and Oscar.

Nolan tags along with you to Vegas after you crashed his California residence for a week as a belated birthday gift. Unfortunately for him he got placed in a separate hotel, although it is beside the resort you were placed in. You split the drive, neither willing to play passenger princess for the whole trip.

“Remember, no gambling your life savings away,” Nolan reminds you as he drops you off at your resort.

“Same goes to you,” you fire back.

“I’m just barely enough to,” he gives you a lazy shrug and smile before pulling away. You aren’t really surprised that he called you old and left, it’s a very little brother thing to do.

“Welcome to Las Vegas, Miss L/n,” a concierge welcomes you and makes you jump slightly in surprise.

“Thank you,”

“Follow me to the front desk, we will have your bags placed in your room,” the concierge instructs. You watch your bags be taken away in a mix of surprise and delight. You’ve never experienced this kind of treatment, ever. This doesn’t even seem normal for anyone except for maybe Lewis.

“Hey, meet me back down here in half an hour. You promised dinner last time,” Oscar walks past you holding a coffee.

You barely settle into the hotel room before a ten-minute reminder text has you heading towards the elevator. You don’t want to chance being late, even in a city dedicated to lady luck.

“Ready to go?” Oscar asks, fixing the cuff of his button down. “You look nice, black suits you well,” he nods affirmatively, like you made the right choice. You walk into one of the many high-end restaurants housed in the resort to find you are the first two to arrive. Lando appears shortly after, taking a seat beside Oscar. Charles and Max follow with Carlos right behind, leaving one empty seat beside you.

“Sorry I’m a little late,” a familiar voice sounds from just behind you.

“You all remember Y/n, she drove for Lando earlier in the season,” Oscar reintroduces you as you try to look anywhere but the man beside you.

“Hey, thanks for letting me join,” you awkwardly smile and wave.

“It would be helpful if you replace Oscar this race, help me close up the Championship,” Charles jokes.

“Oscar said that you raced seven weekends in a row due to stepping in, how did that go?” Max asks and you feel every set of eyes on the table look at you. Mostly in a bit of shock. Heat rises up your neck in a sort of embarrassment from the attention.

“It was brutal in the best way possible. I won the 275 in Iowa, which was nice. The oval is super short, high-banked, and insanely fast,” your face lights up as you tell a quick story of recovering after almost spinning out into the wall.

“I think I would curl up in a ball and not leave my bed for a week if I did that,” Lando says before everyone starts to browse the menu and chat with their neighbors.

“So… how have you been?” Liam hesitantly starts a conversation.

“Now you care?” you don’t look up from the menu, voice laced with irritation and a hint of resentment.

“What do you mean?” you force yourself to look at Liam for the first time that night, his eyes filled with confusion.

“You show up at my hotel room and immediately run away, then you ghost me the rest of the summer other than a forced congratulations text every so often,” you take a deep breath to calm yourself, eyes softening with hurt. “I thought we were friends.”

“We are. I just didn’t want to overstep, especially with your relationship with Christian. I probably should’ve asked about that way earlier in the weekend-“

“Hold up,” you cut him off. “My relationship? With Christian?” you pause and rewind to that evening. “Oh my god. Nolan was there too, we were just getting ready to fly back here. All of us changed in my room and, oh my god you thought we had,” you run a hand through your hair as the dots connect.

“So you aren’t?”

“God no, I love them like my brothers and nothing more,” you fight off a laugh.

“Oh, well that’s good to know,” Liam shakes his head.

“Seems like our plan worked,” Oscar leans slightly towards Lando as they watch you and Liam make up.

“Better than Max’s idea,”

“What was his idea?”

“You don’t want to know,” Lando shakes his head.

“Young love,” Charles sighs. “It’s a shame they will be apart most of the year,”

“Buzzkill,” Oscar frowns. The plan was unintentional. They originally invited Jack, but he couldn’t make it and suggested Ollie, then Lando suggested Liam after watching the hundredth TikTok speculating what happened between you and Liam. It was a whole thing.

You leave the dinner first, citing a long day of driving. Liam follows after you, but only after everyone at the table gave him a pointed look and told him to go. He catches you just as you step into the elevator.

“Oh, what floor do you need?” you ask, reaching out to the control panel to press whichever floor he tells you.

“53, wait that’s not why I’m here,” Liam shakes his head as your brows furrow.

“Then why would you be in an elevator, if you aren’t going to your room?” you ask as the doors slide shut.

“To do this,” he steps forward, gently placing a hand on your cheek and neck as he pulls you close. Your eyes flutter closed, the warmth of his breath tickling your nose for a moment as he hesitates ever so slightly before you feel the warmth of his lips on yours. Passion and longing, regret, it’s all poured into the intimate act as you arch into him. He only pulls away when the elevator dings, signaling that you’ve reached your floor.

“Are you coming?” you ask as you step off towards your room.

“Yeah,” Liam quickly follows after you.

“So, how was last night?” Oscar asks as you sit across from him and Lando trying to enjoy your meal.

“It was good, Liam and I watched Cars after dinner,” you pause, watching Oscar and Lando’s reactions. The visible disappointment is satisfying as you look back down at your meal then at them again. “Of course that was after the sex,” your smirk sets them off, as much as they can celebrate without drawing too much attention to themselves.

“We did it!” Lando cheers, throwing his arm around Oscar and shaking him.

“Jack was equally happy,” you mention your friend who dragged you to a late breakfast earlier in the day. You returned the favor by making him join you for a spa day. Those pictures will be much appreciated by your Instagram followers.

“He knew before us?” Lando’s offended tone makes you chuckle.

“I’ve known Jack much longer than both of you, no offense,”

“Offense taken,” Lando says as Oscar replies “none taken.”

“Right, well I’m going to see my boyfriend before my practice session,” you take the last bite of your meal and stand up, hiding your laughter as both men’s eyes widen.

“BOYFRIEND?!”

[whisperofaflame]

I need to ask cause I think it’s so funny every time I see it. Why is there a “possible trigger warning for Brazilians” tag on the fic? 😭

-🥊? 19 (he/they…maybe she?…)

Omg haha this is ancient lore at this point, because it happened so long ago! Basically, a couple of chapters into Collision Course I got some lovely comments from readers in Brazil, and once one of them shared their feedback that Reader was not taking enough showers there were multiple users agreeing with the sentiment 😅 Turns out showering often (three times a day, apparently?) is very, very important to Brazilians. So, out of respect for their culture, I thought it best to provide a little warning in the tags for them 😌 (the next tag reads #apparently there isn't enough showering)

To any Brazilian users reading this, I send my love! Please know that as I write I am imagining many unseen shower scenes which are definitely occuring multiple times a day during the events of Collision Course, just for you 🫡 ♡

And that boxing glove is all yours! Thank you for the question, it made me smile to remember it 😂♡

[glowettee]

✧・゜: how i'm learning to trust my creative intuition :・゜✧:・゜✧

hey lovelies! ✨

i've been thinking a lot about creative intuition lately, that quiet inner voice that nudges you toward certain ideas or projects. for the longest time, i was absolutely terrible at listening to it. i'd get these little sparks of inspiration and immediately talk myself out of them. "that's been done before" or "you don't have the skills for that" or my personal favorite: "who do you think you are?"

sound familiar? thought so.

the thing is, i've slowly been learning that my intuition actually knows what it's talking about. those random ideas that pop into my head at 2am or while i'm in the shower? they're not random at all, they're my creative compass trying to guide me toward what truly lights me up.

⋆.ೃ࿔:･ recognizing intuition vs. fear ･:࿔ೃ.⋆

the first big challenge was learning to tell the difference between my intuition and my fear. they can sound weirdly similar sometimes!

my intuition tends to feel like excitement mixed with certainty, like "yes! this!" even when it makes no logical sense. it feels light and expansive, like opening a window in a stuffy room.

fear, on the other hand, feels heavy and contracted. it comes with a lot of "shoulds" and worrying about what other people will think. it's the voice that compares my chapter 1 to someone else's chapter 20.

i started keeping track of when these different voices would speak up, and slowly got better at recognizing which was which.

⋆.ೃ࿔:･ creating space to listen ･:࿔ೃ.⋆

intuition doesn't shout. it whispers. and in our noisy, constantly-connected world, those whispers can get completely drowned out.

i realized i needed to create actual space to hear myself think. for me, that looks like:

morning pages: three pages of stream-of-consciousness writing before looking at my phone

solo walks without podcasts or music (just me and my thoughts)

intentional boredom: staring out windows, lying on the floor, letting my mind wander

reducing input before trying to create output (no scrolling before creative sessions)

it's amazing what starts to bubble up when you're not constantly drowning it out with other people's voices and ideas.

⋆.ೃ࿔:･ the "stupid idea" notebook ･:࿔ೃ.⋆

one of the most helpful tools has been my "stupid idea" notebook, a judgment-free zone where i write down every creative impulse, no matter how ridiculous it seems.

the name is intentionally silly to remind myself not to take it all so seriously. some ideas truly are stupid, and that's perfectly fine! but some turn out to be the beginnings of something meaningful.

the rule is simple: write it all down, evaluate later. this creates a safe space for intuition to speak without immediately being shut down by my inner critic.

⋆.ೃ࿔:･ small intuition experiments ･:࿔ೃ.⋆

trusting your intuition is like building a muscle, you start small and work your way up.

i began with low-stakes creative decisions: which color to use in a drawing, which topic to write about in my journal, which route to take on my walk. when something felt intuitively "right," i'd go with it, even if i couldn't explain why.

gradually, i started trusting my intuition with bigger choices: which project to pursue, which opportunities to say yes to, which creative direction to explore.

with each small win, my confidence in my inner guidance grew stronger.

⋆.ೃ࿔:･ embracing the "wrong" turns ･:࿔ೃ.⋆

here's the thing about intuition: sometimes it leads you down paths that seem to go nowhere. i've followed creative impulses that resulted in projects i never finished or ideas that didn't work out.

but i'm learning that these aren't failures, they're necessary detours. every "wrong" turn teaches me something i needed to learn or leads me to connections i wouldn't have made otherwise.

intuition isn't finding the most direct path; it's finding YOUR path, with all its twists and surprises.

⋆.ೃ࿔:･ letting go of external validation ･:࿔ೃ.⋆

perhaps the hardest part of trusting my creative intuition has been detaching from external validation. when you follow your intuition, you might create things that don't immediately resonate with others or fit neatly into what's trending.

i'm still working on this one, honestly. but i've noticed that my most intuitive creations... the ones that felt most aligned with my inner voice, are ultimately the ones people connect with most deeply, even if the audience is smaller.

⋆.ೃ࿔:･ a gentle practice ･:࿔ೃ.⋆

trusting your creative intuition isn't a destination, it's an ongoing practice. some days i'm better at it than others. sometimes fear still wins. but each time i choose to listen to that quiet inner knowing, it gets a little louder, a little clearer.

if you're struggling to trust your own creative voice, start small. create tiny spaces of silence. write down the whispers. follow the sparks of excitement. and be patient with yourself when you forget.

xoxo, mindy 🤍

[asoftsighh]

hello!! i just wanna say that i love your writing sooooooo much like you’re literally a poet??!!??

was curious if i could request a remus lupin x reader where they’re sitting together on the couch late at night and they’re in a warm and comforting setting and just like lots of coziness and domestic fluff? thanks!

₊‧°𐐪♡𐑂°‧₊ remus lupin x reader ₊‧°𐐪♡𐑂°‧₊

you and remus enjoy a cuddly night on the couch

609 words

a/n: thank you for requesting gorgeous! this is also my first time writing for remus so i'm a bit nervous♡♡♡

The fire crackles low in the hearth, casting a warm, orange hue across the living room and the pages of your book. It’s late, late enough that the noise outside is hushed and blanketed in darkness. But here, wrapped in a thick blanket with your feet atop Remus’ thighs, everything is still and calm and safe. 

A few chapters ago, his free hand had slipped beneath the blanket to find your calf, his palm warm against your bare skin. His other hand holds his book, a classic, if you were to guess. Your own book is held up in front of your face, its spine digging into your chest. You and Remus have been here for quite some time, so long that the words on the pages have started to blur together; you’ve lost track of how many times you’ve had to go back and reread a paragraph. Your eyelids start to droop once more when there’s a squeeze at your ankle. 

“Are you reading or are you sleeping, love?” His voice is low and warm, soothing enough to make you want to go right back to dozing. You tent your book on your stomach to look at him. His hair is still damp from his post-dinner shower, the ends starting to curl above his ears. If you weren’t as comfortable as you are, you’d tuck yourself into his neck to smell his body wash. 

“I’m tired,” you say in lieu of an answer. 

He hums, the sound low and affectionate, and shifts his hand up to cup the inside of your knee. “You could’ve said something,” he murmurs. “Let’s go to bed.” He’s already giving your legs a gentle nudge to move off his lap so he can stand. 

You yawn, somewhat unattractively, and don’t have a second-thought about it. It’s Remus, the boy who irons all your clothes when you need it and who rubs your back to help you sleep. The last thing you need to worry about is him getting thinking you are anything but beautiful. (He tells you everyday, anyway.)

“But I’m so comfy,” you say, curling up on your side for emphasis. Your movements cause your book to topple off and land on the ground. Your hands, now both underneath the blanket, curl beneath your chin. You watch him put his book aside in the corner of your eyes. 

He chuckles softly, the kind of laugh that makes your chest warm. He leans over you to pick up your book from the floor, putting it on the coffee table. He straightens with a resigned sigh. 

“Alright, alright,” he says, pretending to sound exasperated despite the smile flirting with the corners of his mouth. “Scooch over, dove.”

You move closer to the edge of the couch, letting him fit his lean body between the back cushions and you. He lets out a deep sigh as he settles, his arm winding around your waist to pull you back against him. His breath tickles the side of your neck; as if reading your mind, he presses an absent-minded kiss beneath your ear. 

Closing your eyes, you focus on his chest expanding and deflating with each breath. Soon enough, your breathing will be in sync, like twin tides pulled by the same moon.

“Better?” He hums, nudging your shoulder with his nose. 

You nod, too close to sleep to speak. Your hand covers his against your stomach. 

You feel the stretch of his lips against your shoulder, where your shirt must’ve slipped down. His voice is low when he says something else, most likely a goodnight or an I love you, but sleep has already taken you. 

criticism is welcome as long as it’s kind ✮⋆˙

i’m very new to writing ✮⋆˙

[bewitched-hours]

Noobador x GN! Reader crumbs? Reader catches Noobador at the end of his shift at his engineer job and they have a lovey dovey moment together and then he literally picks Reader up and takes them home with him hehe. I need a T-shirt that says "I ♡ Fluff" on it. (Also sorry for being such a frequent on your inbox. I love your writing way too much and you literally pull off every scenario I think up into a perfect fic. I should totally write something up for you on the Discord since you do so much for me?? Just let me know who you yumship with and I'll do my best!!) - Luminescent Anon

Dw, I love getting asks and having frequents in my inbox just makes it all the more special! Sorry for how long this took but as I mentioned in the server, I wanted to make sure I knew more details to make it more lore accurate... (⸝⸝⸝-﹏-⸝⸝⸝)

READER'S GETTING THEY/THEM AS REQUESTED-

You were originally just planning to show Noobador your new shirt and maybe see Red & Blue on the side...

How could you not? The twins were adorable and you've grown really close to their unc- Boss...

Regardless, you had agreed to meet him at his last station where he was fixing up some damage left behind by a couple bandits again.

If you had known they were there, you would've rushed to help but you weren't told until after it happened because Noobador wanted you to know why he was working a bit late.

Of course, you planned to scold him because with all the swords you've collected already, you'd easily turn those bandits into flies.

But you never did, because when you arrived it was eerily quiet.

You were subtly grabbing the Venomshank and looked around to see if maybe someone else was waiting for you...

... Until he suddenly appeared behind you and you were quickly thrown up onto his shoulder.... Classic.

Letting out a sigh of relief, you turned your head to look at his face and give him a gentle kiss. He made sure to enjoy it before chuckling.

"I saw you coming, sweetheart. 'I love fluff'? Really?" You could tell his mockery was a joke and dramatically played along.

"Ugh~ How could I think you would ever understand~?" You spoke with such sarcasm, hatred could've gagged. But to Noobador it was comical.

"Alright, alright, let's get home so I can shower and get the oil off my clothes." He was proudly keeping you on his shoulder like a prize as he jumped off to bring you home with him.

You were a little glad to see Red & Blue there too. You were practically an aunt to them with how Noobador and you act. And you would take that title to your grave with pride.

Noobador was luckily in the shower while the twins bombarded you with questions. Not like you minded, you were glad when the two acted more like children. They deserved to have at least the taste of normalcy.

"Why does your shirt say 'I love fluff'?" Red would ask.

"It means I like fluffy things! Like you both!" You'd chuckle as if it was obvious and panted them gently.

"But we don't have fur!" Blue would giggle at your affection.

"Maybe not but you two are fluffy with your personalities and words! And that's the softest fluff I could imagine!" You were really getting into it. It would be funny to anyone else.

But to Noobador, who was now watching from the doorframe with a soft smile on his face? He found it adorable, surprisingly enough.

You were so ready to take care of the twins like they were your own and something about that was when Noobador had first fallen for you. When that spark in him was first lit on fire and revealed a side to him that you'd never thought to see.

By the time you even noticed him sneaking up on you, he already lifted you up and spun you around with a hearty laugh. Much to the amusement of the twins...

At least until he gave you a loving kiss on the lips, earning a "Ewww" from Red & Blue. You had to stifle a laugh but Noobador had no trouble just continuing to show you love with the twins turning away.

"How about we just watch a movie and train a bit afterwards?" You eventually suggested, getting Red & Blue's attention like a charm.

Needless to say, the rest of the day was spent with an action movie and teaching the twins some sword tricks to copy...

Anything you'd like to request/ask? Check out my pinned post first and I'll be happy to write up whatever you want!

[gatheringbones]

[“Last summer, the same body began dealing with bad tendonitis alongside cerebral palsy, which impacted not only my ability to type and write, but also to walk, stand, and dance on my feet. I was instructed by my doctor to avoid these activities because I might lose function, strength, and even sensation in my hands. To an observer, it didn't look like anything was wrong, and I could still do these things myself, but putting weight on my hands through my canes caused my hands and arms to hurt, tingle, burn, and go numb. Still, I felt like a fraud— with attendants in my room helping me to transfer in and out of bed, tie my shoes, and take a shower. I had worked for years in physical therapy to learn to do these things independently. Sometimes I would cheat by doing them myself anyway, because it was faster, cheaper, and easier. Or by masturbating (very hand-intensive stuff). But particularly by having sex with N.

The night I went home with N, we chatted for a few hours, there being a kind of foreplay in his complaint that lesbians always hit on him at the local gay bar. I made the same complaint about gay men, particularly one guy who just wouldn't leave me alone. He kept dancing with me by wrapping his arm so that my throat was in the crook of his elbow, our height differential such that he was choking me. I kept pulling him off of me, and he kept replacing his arm. I went to sit down, but I got back up because I wanted to continue dancing. It was my whole reason for going out that night. Eventually this guy collapsed on top of me. The force of his fall knocked off my shoes. I had a bruise for several weeks, but I wasn't upset about that; I was upset about the fact that all of this happened in public, that more people would apologize as they simply brushed past me, and I would be treated as fragile for the rest of the night, even though I was not necessarily any less capable of staying on my feet than the guy who fell on top of me.

Another time, a man began dancing with me and grabbed my canes, lifting the ends up into the air and moving them back and forth as though they were arms. I had five seconds to prepare. I thought about tucking my head and pushing all of my weight forward to minimize the chance of cracking my head open on the dance floor. It worked pretty well. I fell in something of a cannonball position. In both of these cases, the men were thrown out of the club. In both cases, I remember being more upset about how I was being perceived than about the actual event itself, but I still felt attacked both times. I can't remember whether I told N these stories. They certainly came to mind when I made that comment about gay men coming on to me.

I remember explaining that my attraction to men ranged from sporadic to nonexistent and was not something I acted upon because I had no desire to be in relationships with men. Most of my emotional and intimate connections were with women. N said he felt the same way about women as I did about men. Looking back, I can see that we were negotiating our unexpected attraction. At the time, it felt like little more than small talk. But I guess the real proposition came with N's “I'm gay, you’re gay, wanna make out?”

During sex, I could not avoid using my hands. Or maybe I could have, but it didn't make me feel sexy to ask for help I didn't “need," especially in bed. There are certain orgasms that would not have happened without me using my hands— many of which were rightfully mine. Or were they? It is strange to talk about entitlement to sexual satisfaction as a lesbian involved with a gay man.

A gay male friend of mine kept trying to understand this unprecedented turn of events by putting us into different boxes. He described me as an experimenting lesbian and N as a bisexual or N as experimenting and me as frustrated or confused. Perhaps, my friend said, we were both bisexual, but my friend just didn't see me that way because I am so interested in women. I think of myself as a lesbian and I feel I have no right to put someone in a different box than the one that they claim, even if the boxes seem to make a logical contradiction. My friend accepted this contradiction, but he did feel it was unfair that, of the two of us, I was the one sleeping with a gay man. I told him that if he ever wanted to sleep with a lesbian, I would fully support him. We both laughed, but I reminded him that sleeping with a woman who's queer allows for mutable gender possibilities that he may not have considered, at which point my comment seemed less funny and more like food for thought. Several of my lesbian- identified friends expressed shock that I had started seeing a man, but when I added that he was queer they seemed relieved. Some added, “Oh, well, I would sleep with a gay man."

It seemed rather arbitrary to choose this one relationship, which was primarily sexual, as transformative of my identity. I am very at tracted to masculinity— butch, trans, and sometimes, rarely, even the most cliché of all: actual scrotum- toters. I draw the line somewhere, though: I have never had intercourse. I have nothing against it. There are just so many things that are more interesting to me sexually. Does this prove I'm a dyke? Does it minimize the importance of my relationships( all two) with men? Or would you call me bisexual? I felt like I was passing as bi when I talked about N. One friend invited me to her bi women's group. N began to refer to himself as bisexual and would get angry when I didn't follow his lead, though eventually he gave up. Did he chalk it up to semantic differences or denial?

I am aware, as I tell this story, that it is easier to talk about the ill-fitting nature of categories in relation to my own sexuality than it is to talk about disability in relation to sex. It is one thing to talk about parallels between the two identities and another to talk about how one identity affects the other. I don't know what it says that I have waited this long to reveal that N, like me, is disabled. He also uses a wheelchair and does not walk at all. Have I waited this long because I anticipate some sort of misunderstanding, a sense of “Oh, I see" from my imagined reader, as if our unlikely coupling is explained by the fact that we are both disabled?”]

dominika bednarska, from passing last summer, from Nobody Passes: Rejecting the Rules of Gender and Conformity, Edited by Mattilda Bernstein Sycamore, 2006

[antiterf]

"Gender identity and feeling a certain gender isn't like sexual orientation. We know what attraction is!"

Okay but can you explain the feeling of being attracted to someone? Can you do it without using symbolism? Can you do it without objectification? Without the "feeling" because feelings aren't objective? We have the term sexual attraction to describe sexual orientation, and we have gender identity to describe being transgender. Both have been neglected by psychology and other sciences in regard to LGBTQ+ people and most of the time, it is, at the end of the day, multiple different theories and not a single explanation.

It took me longer to recognize romantic attraction than it did for me to recognize my gender identity. I assumed that certain things were sexual attractions when they weren't. Many gay, lesbian, and ace people go through that second one because sexual attraction can never be objectively described.

I eventually figured out romantic attraction as the feeling I get when I think someone as cute, not from aesthetics but as a person. That is not exactly specific enough for most people to understand. When combined with sexual attraction it becomes a constant yearning for the person to be next to me, the feeling that part of me is missing when they leave. I cannot separate sexual attraction from romantic, but can separate romantic from sexual. If we're going blatantly then sexual attraction would also be my want to have sex with the specific person because their body alone gives me feelings of euphoria (oh we love the oxytocin), but when comparing that to gender, that would be a sexual expression like how pronouns and clothing are gender expression.

On top of that, I can only speak for myself. Others can and will report feelings that do not match mine, but they still use the same terminology because those feelings will still fall under attraction. Trying to restrict what is and what isn't a form of romantic or sexual attraction by personal experience isn't helpful and likely more harmful.

Gender identity was the feeling that something was off and that I had one foot in the door and one foot out. That something was missing until I put the key into place. It was the feeling of euphoria when hearing my preferred name. It's the comfort I get when there's some compression on my chest because I associate binders with relief and happiness. But wait... wouldn't that second one be instead feelings of transsexualism?

I don't fucking know dude! I don't feel these things separately! Separate orgasm from pleasure and see how that works out for you!

When trans people talk about our experiences with gender identity because someone wants some sort of description, when a cis person who has never had to examine what gender identity feels like, there's not going to be much of a way to describe it where someone completely understands unless if they've experienced it before. We as trans people can go "oh yeah that sounds accurate to my experience" or go "oh no, not me, for me it's a little more like ____" but there's not much of a way to objectively describe it.

What is a woman, anyone who claims that they're a woman, is as circular as a definition as:

Sexual attraction: attraction that makes people desire sexual contact or shows sexual interest in another person(s). Romantic attraction: attraction that makes people desire romantic contact or interaction with another person or persons.

So neuroscience is used to try and find Where the Gender is Stored but the brain is such a complex organ that the shape of your brain can be used to identify you like a fingerprint. Oxytocin is what we have for attraction but which one? Does it matter? There are studies that show that the brains of trans people are different in some way but I kind of stopped caring about them years ago because I don't care! I don't care!

I'm trans, we keep trying to explain what gender identity is, why we transition, but there's always some issue on it being too vague or reinforcing stereotypes (men having flat chests with binding even though not all men do for instance).

So when you get a way to describe all of what you feel objectively that everyone can relate to you can get back to me and I'll fucking applaud you.

[featherxquill]

The thing about me is, I’m so rejection sensitive, at least where friendship is concerned, that I have learned to completely ignore the part of my brain that tells me that someone is mad at me or hates me and wants rid of me, essentially granting myself cockroach levels of resilience to passive-aggressive social rejection and ghosting. So yes, I will be That Person. I have absolutely no shame and I will send you 32 things that made me think of you even if you haven’t replied, I will persist in asking you to hang out. Like I choose to believe that everyone is just busy or forgetful or has their own shit going on, it’s the only way I can be a functional human being. So if you want to get rid of me that’s completely fine, but I will take none hints and I’m going to need you to Set Some Clear Boundaries, Ma’am.

[sugurusladyknightt]

suguru would have you sit in front of him whether that means in his lap, between his legs, or in a chair/on a couch as he stands or sits behind you to. why you ask, well to do your hair for you. meticulously, skillfuly, tirelessly he'll finger coiling each and every curl with all the care in the world and then some. no matter how long or thick your hair may be. how coarse or dry. he will do it. every curl will feel his love. suguru will ensure it. he'd be applying your products into your hair and massaging your scalp. oh, and he knows just the right amount of pressure to apply to have you purring and sighing at the feeling and nuzzling into his ginormous hands. he'd listen so intently to your little sighs at the feeling of having you hair and scalp cared for the way you deserve. and your hair has never looked better.

curly girlies rise ✊ (and share products recs pls!!)

[queer-omens-in-the-archives]

Can we have a second Tuesday this week because we spent most of this one basically unable to talk or text (barely capable of making any words) or do any hobbies (combination of: information/processing overload & wording incapability) and I want a refund.

[avon7ade]

. . .

[red-lights-of-doooooom]

Maybe it's a good thing that your springtime allergies stop you from smoking, my love.

Life has returned to this side of the earth. I don't wanna see you lose yours.

The world is growing, and so are we.

Yet you reject it. You reject us. You shelter away, time and time again, as I have done and will do since time immemorial. You submerge deep within the earth, pulling the covers of black smoke tight around your supple throat as you bury yourself in a grim prognosis.

I can't hear you breathe if I can smell your death.

You're still so young, lamb. Fresh and pure. An angel waiting among the lilies. A lost soul plucked from farmland fields and the Garden of Eden, placed in a concrete jungle filled with cracked dreams and fragile hopes for the next train, arriving precisely at nine o' clock sharp, Monday to Friday. Shuttle buses will run.

I was a demonic denizen, inheriting shame and grief and trauma, lost forever to manmade machinations and the hands of the clock. And then you saved me. You reminded me that I was a human being, with thoughts and feelings and solid opportunity waiting on the other side of the door. You made me feel young again, hopeful and pristine, for the first time in centuries.

I am terrified of ruining that picture-perfect joy that you hold in your heart. Your body and mind may be spent, but your heart is as pure and good as any religious prayer. I long to be pure of heart and mind, but knowledgable enough to save myself from complete annihilation.

And so it breaks my heart to see you callously fade behind those deer eyes. Don't you see, my darling? I'm the damned soul seeking asylum within a slow suicide! I should be protecting you while I destroy myself! I would do ANYTHING to keep you safe and healthy from this disgusting world!

If I can't keep you safe, then I have truly lost.

I am nothing.

So please,

Stay with me a little while longer.

Let me wipe that tar off your tricky little fingers.

Let me hold you just a little bit more, until I am comforted by the warmth of your bones.

This isn't going to be your end, because you've given me a new beginning. I hope this new chapter together will last a long time throughout our lives.

I don't know if I can last another long, gruelling winter alone.

There's no spring without you.