#I no joke imagined this to be a 'loading/waiting screen''. And like.. what do I need a loading screen for???? But also

[screwpinecaprice]

Infinite kisses

[twstgarden]

❀ ❝ 𝟭𝟮 𝗽𝗼𝗺𝗲𝗴𝗿𝗮𝗻𝘁𝗲𝘀 ❞

━ idia shroud x gn! persephone! reader ━ idia wonders how he got lucky with you, and everyday, he wonders if you really are there by his side and not just a figment of his imagination. (f/n means first name)(reader can be yuu or an oc)

requested by: @glass-anna11 request type: scenario requester’s message: “Hello! May I please request for fluff relationship with Idia and a Persephone-like S/O please?" florist’s note: hello, dearie! of course, i love idia, not sure if this is fluffy though. apologies~

this work does not contain spoilers for chapter 6, ignihyde’s arc.

do not steal or translate without my permission.

ko-fi here if you want to support me

idia was still not convinced that you were his. you were the epitome of perfect to him: kind, sweet, and drop-dead gorgeous. not to mention, you also can be wise and mature when you need to. the contrasts between your personality paired with the affection you gave him were enough to make him think he was dreaming.

'the gods must be playing a joke on me,' thought idia as he watched you hum a tune to yourself while making some flower crowns, seated on his carpeted floor surrounded by flowers you picked in heartslabyul's garden.

god forbid you'll ever get in trouble for that, but knowing you, you might've asked for permission before picking their flowers. his console rested on his hands while he was waiting for his game to load, his eyes stuck on your radiant beauty.

however, the sounds of his game's background music playing made him resume his concentration back on the screen, and he once again tried to distract himself. it took a few hours until he tore his gaze away from his game and noticed you were no longer in the same spot as you were before.

he wondered where you were, and as soon as he finished playing, he got out of his seat and looked around, "n/n...?"

did you leave? have you gotten bored of him? have you gotten tired of being the one to take initiative? did you find someone else that's better suited for you - someone that is not a gloomy, underworld keeper like him?

thoughts flooded his mind, and just as quickly as they came, they instantly disappeared the moment you entered the room with two cups of instant ramen in hand, pausing your tracks as you two stared at one another for a while before you smiled.

"i went to make some instant ramen while you played. i thought you might be hungry, so..." you trailed off whilst he stood there with eyes wide open as if he had seen a ghost.

"...why are you so caring?" mumbled idia, making you tilt your head a little. "what do you mean?" you asked before placing the instant ramen cup on his desk while you ate yours.

"i mean, why are you so kind to me?" asked idia once more as you paused eating your ramen and set it down, realising he was still in disbelief that someone was actually taking care of him like this no matter how much it seemed like he was not returning the gesture.

you cupped his cheeks, still smiling sweetly at him, "because i love you, idia."

love.

you love him.

he stayed silent for a moment, his thoughts running wild again as he looked into your eyes, seeing nothing but genuine feelings. he eventually held your waist - in a rather awkward manner - as he smiled a little at you.

a soft sigh left his lips, growing nervous as he was about to take the next step. with one arm around your waist, he used his free hand to reach out at the drawer behind you, opening it and grabbing something that you did not see.

"hm? what is that?" you asked, curiosity brimming your mind as you eyed his enclosed hand. he took his arm off from your waist as he gulped, placing a hand under your chin to make you look at him as he presented the candies in his hand, "would... you like some?"

thinking it was just him being nervous about offering things to you, you shrugged and smiled at him, grabbing the 12 candies in his hand as he eyed you for a bit while you spoke, "sure, thanks!"

you then looked at the candies. it was red in colour and round, just like the other hard candies that idia casually eats when he is bored. not caring about what flavour it might be, you unwrapped the treat and popped it in your mouth.

"hm... tastes... like pomegranate...?" you mumbled, making idia nervous as he spoke, "are you not fond of it?" you smiled and replied, "no, i did not mean it like that. it tastes great!"

idia sighed in relief as he smiled at you, awkwardly wrapping his arms around you once more as he said, "that's a relief... they're local candies from my hometown." you hummed in response as you continued tasting the pomegranate candies, "from the island of woe? huh, they taste great."

"yes..." trailed idia as he thought to himself, '...so they are unaware of the island of woe's tradition relating to pomegranates... how do i tell them that offering pomegranates to someone is equivalent to a declaration of love without sounding so awkward?!'

© twstgarden 2024 || please do not steal, translate without my permission, or use this to train a.i.

[fuctacles]

A tale as old as time

For @subeddieweek Day 7 | M | 2696 | cw: age gap (about 25-30y difference, Eddie's age is not stated, Steve's aligns with canon) | camboy Eddie, transmasc Eddie, kinda sugar daddy Steve?, modern AU, simp Steve, virgin Eddie, chatfic, pre-anything, gray ace Eddie | Ao3 Day 1 | Day 2 | Day 3 | Day 4 | Day 5 | Day 6 | Day 7 | Ao3

"Hawkins High '86? How old is this guy?" Eddie asks himself, his eyebrows raised. There is a letterman in front of him, a gift from one of his top subscribers. Hell, his top subscriber. His number-one fan, who was responsible for about half of his revenue.

He's opened a PO box recently, with no little amount of worry about what kind of stuff he might get. He only gave the address to his top subscribers but he knew that the ones with the most money were usually the most unhinged. He went to the post office with his heart in his throat but all he got was a set of lingerie, a toy, and the letterman he was now holding.

He tried not to think about what kind of people would pay for his content. As long as he was making money he didn't care. But now he got a piece of one of them in his hands. Staring back.

1986.

Meaning the guy must be nearing 60. Double Eddie's age. 

He tries to imagine that. An older guy, with wrinkles, maybe a beer belly, a gross old t-shirt, and his hand permanently in his sweats, beating it to his photos. 

It was gross. And in a way, alluring.

Though someone with so much money to spend on a camboy must have a well-paying job. Some rich asshole, exploiting others to do the work for him. That's a more likely scenario. He tries not to think about big, rough hands on him when he puts on the jacket and takes pics for Shar.

He edits them a bit before sending them, knowing the guy will get a kick from seeing him in his jacket. The appeal of wearing your boyfriend's letterman eluded him in high school, but being claimed like that gave him a heady feeling. The fact that the guy could be his father apparently worked for him too. 

He doesn't put his phone away fast enough and sees the message that pops up.

Shar: So hot. You look like every repressed teen jock's dream

Shar: Definitely like mine

Eddie thinks a moment about his response, channeling the persona he takes on for the camera. 

PuppetOfMasters: Would I be your dirty secret?

PuppetOfMasters: Would you fuck me in the locker room behind your girlfriend's back?

Shar: I'd make YOU my girlfriend

Shar: Wait no

Shar: NOT LIKE THAT

Shar: A girlfriend but in a manly way

Eddie snorts.

You're good, he types. I know what you mean, don't worry.

He wouldn't keep around someone who didn't respect him. Besides, he made it clear he's saving for a transition with his Only Fans.

Thank god, Shar types. I respect who you are 

Shar: In fact, I spend so much money on you because of it. 

Eddie rolls onto his other side, his mood souring. One of those trans fetishists, then. That's fine, as long as he's being respectful and paying... Even if it leaves an unpleasant taste in his mouth. 

Ah, a connoisseur! Well, I hope I'm your favorite tranny, then, he jokes. He waits for an answer, but it doesn't come for a long while, so he flips his phone screen down and turns away, hoping for sleep.

A response is waiting for him when he wakes up. 

Shar: I guess it sounded that way, but I'm not that kind of pervert. You're the only trans sex worker I follow, but not the only trans person I've sent money to.

Eddie sauntered to the bathroom, not taking his eyes off his phone. He wonders if continuing the conversation is even the right move. He's talked to one too many guys who thought sending him a dick pick was okay after ten minutes of small talk between a content creator and a fan.

But he's kind of curious. When he has money to spare, he sends some change to other trans folks to help out, because he knows how hard it is from his own experience. But why Shar, a seemingly loaded old guy, would spend his money on queers instead of, let's say, starving children?

PuppetOfMasters: So you're just an ally with cash? Or is there more to it? I'm curious.

He goes through his morning routine, washing his face, and brushing his teeth, not expecting Shar to get back to him any time soon. So he's surprised when he picks his phone back up and a response is waiting.

Shar: Long story short, I hope my father is rolling in his grave while I spend his inheritance on people he hated so much.

That's not what Eddie expected at all. 

PuppetOfMasters: So I'm a means of rebellion against your bigoted dead father? I'll take that. I hate rich assholes

Shar: Me too

They don't talk for the whole day after that, but when Eddie's done running errands and editing in the evening, he looks back at the letterman hanging on the door of his wardrobe. 

How is sending me your letterman an act of rebellion? he asks. Because he's a curious little shit. 

The response comes fast like the guy is glued to his Only Fans chat. Gross. Eddie wonders briefly if he's talking with other sex workers there.

Shar: A souvenir of his precious high school fetishized on a queer ssex worker? He'd die if he hadn't already

So it is a fetish thing! Eddie smiles triumphantly at his phone.

Shar: Okay, fine

Shar: Sticking it to my father is just a bonus for you being really hot. 

Shar: And I do love seeing you in my letterman, I've jerked off to it three times already

Shar: is that what you wanted to hear?

Eddie grins, rolling on his bed.

PuppetOfMasters: Yes 

Shar: So yeah, I'm an old man who peaked in high school, laugh it up

PuppetOfMasters: I'd rather you peaked in me

Shar: Insufferable

Shar: Menace

Shar: Yeah, I'd love that. A man can dream, right?

Eddie bites his lip. How far is too far? The guy seems genuine and after the amount of creeps that's been chatting him up, he thinks his creep radar is quite good. Tentatively, he starts typing.

PuppetOfMasters: I don't know. I think people would like seeing me get railed by an older guy

Shar: An old guy, you mean

Shar: You'd make a video with me?

PuppetOfMasters: I record most of the sex I have, yes

Shar: Huh. I've never seen one before, then

PuppetOfMasters: warm, warmer

Shar: ... There aren't any?

PuppetOfMasters: din ding ding! ya boy is a virgin

Shar: shit

Shar: fuck

Shar: that's so hot

Shar: you'd let me?

PuppetOfMasters: Would I let my best-paying subscriber be my first time on camera? Probably

Not necessarily to be released but he couldn't lose the possibility of such golden content in case it was watchable. 

Shar: I'd better keep my spot then. Just in case.

PuppetOfMasters: No worries, you seem the most trustworthy so far anyway.

But as he types it, a new notification appears. Shar sent him a hefty tip on one of his photos.

PuppetOfMasters: That's really not necessary

PuppetOfMasters: But I hope your father is kicking and screaming in his coffin

Shar: I fucking hope so

----

It takes Eddie another day to google Hawkins High's yearbook photos. He'd thought about it before but didn't want to break the bubble of anonymity between himself and his fan. But the thoughts of big hands on his hips, and beard rubbing against his neck, took root in his brain and were tainting his mind.

Not fully in tune with his body and distrustful of others, Eddie has been single for most of his life. And now his stupid horny brain was drooling at the thought of losing his virginity to a grandpa on the internet. 

Hoping it would help his thoughts calm down, he looks through the photos from the year 1986, in search of a Harrington. And he finds him.

Steve Harrington. Basketball captain and swim team co-captain. His hairdo was magnificent and his smile was self-confident. Eddie would hate him in high school. Should probably hate him now. So he expands his search further, beyond the Hawkins High memory lane.

He finds one single photo on a LinkedIn profile. 

The current Steve Harrington's hair is no less magnificent, just peppered with silver. He wears glasses now, which accentuate the line of his jaw and make his neatly trimmed facial hair pop out. He's wearing a yellow jacket and a white golf, which should be hideous but weirdly, works for him. Eddie doesn't get to see his eyes, unfortunately. The photo looks like a candid photo shoot take-out after someone told him a joke. His head is tilted down, eyes scrunched and lips pulled in a smile, as a bubbling laugh got immortalized on camera.

Eddie shouldn't be finding a sixty-year-old man this endearing. 

PuppetOfMasters: I like your LinkedIn photo

PuppetOfMasters: Well, I hope it's you. 

PuppetOfMasters: Steve, right?

He can't forget about this for the whole day, not as he budgets his income, and especially not when he records a short video jerking off in the shower. He tries not to look at his phone but it's his only one, so he does while trying to budget in a second one, just for sex work. Maybe then he wouldn't be feeling so insane about not getting a response from a stranger who is an old pervert spending loads of money on him. 

He tries to be normal when a chat notification finally pops up. 

Shar: If you saw the golf and yellow jacket photo, that's me

Shar: though please don't make me type my full name in here.

no worries, Eddie types back so fast he should be embarrassed. It's a good photo.

Shar: Thanks. My best friend took it 

PuppetOfMasters: Your friend has a good eye

Shar: I'll let her know

Shar: I'm surprised it took you this long to search me up

Eddie's surprised too. Usually, his curiosity would take over him sooner.

PuppetOfMasters: I tried not to pry. But I had to in case we were gonna meet up one day

Shar: So you were serious?

Shar: I've been wondering if you sweet-talk all your followers like that 

PuppetOfMasters: Only the ones that don't send me dick pics

Shar: I knew holding back would pay off

Eddie snorts at his phone. 

Though I might need one before we meet up, he types. Gotta know what I'm working with

Shar: Right. Of course

Shar: So how would that work?

Eddie hasn't thought about it this far.

PuppetOfMasters: I need to read about OF's policy on collabs. Never had to before, since I work solo. Would probably have to hire you, well, sign a commission/gig contract or something like that. So it's all legal and shit.

Shar, Steve, doesn't answer for a long while, and it might be the end of his devirginizing journey. Well, if the guy doesn't want to make this legal, put his name on some paperwork, then he isn't trustworthy, and that's the end of it.

It's half an hour later and Eddie's bitten all his nails off trying not to follow up with any messages and focus on anything else when an answer finally comes.

Shar: Sorry my friend was bothering me

Shar: this sounds more complicated than I anticipated. So I would be like, a co-creator, then?

PuppetOfMasters: Precisely

Shar: Holy shit okay

Shar: Thought I'd be you know, less involved

Though you could hit it and quit it, huh? Eddie scrunched his nose. What was he getting himself into? Gods.

Shar: If that's what you wanted I'd take it

Eddie shouldn't be blushing over this one. It's like he's throwing the man scraps and he's licking them up.

PuppetOfMasters: Simp

Shar: I am what I am

Shar: With that said, I'm willing to make it work. Do all the paperwork you need

PuppetOfMasters: Doing paperwork just to fuck me? so romantic

Shar: I suck at paperwork so my friend would be doing it anyway

Shar: If that's okay

PuppetOfMasters: I think it's best if someone looks it over, yeah

Eddie hesitates for a moment.

PuppetOfMasters: That friend doesn't happen to be your wife?

Fuck no, comes the immediate response

Shar: I'm perpetually single and she's as gay as they come. 

PuppetOfMasters: Good. Wouldn't want to be the other girl

Shar: If I had the chance you'd be the only one

PuppetOfMasters: Jesus.

Eddie squeezes his legs together unconsciously.

PuppetOfMasters: Stop sweet talking me, I've already agreed to fuck

Shar: But we haven't signed anything yet. Even then, I'll keep sweet-talking you. It's what you deserve. 

For the first time, Eddie thinks he might not survive their meeting. And not because of the possible killer scenario. Thankfully, Steve gets back to business talk.

Shar: How would this work, legal stuff aside? Do you script this?

PuppetOfMasters: Do I look like I script shit?

Shar: I'm not the one with Only Fans

PuppetOfMasters: Fair. I think we could just set up cameras and do whatever we feel like. Then decide together if the footage will be released or not. 

Shar: Sounds reasonable

Shar:When would you want to do this?

When?

Eddie hasn't thought that far. In fact, he felt like he hadn't been thinking for the past couple of days. 

I'm the sole god of my schedule so I'm open to anything, he types evasively.

Shar: I have some time off next month, could fly to wherever you need me

Next month seemed close. Extremely close. Or maybe it wasn't? He never worked with anyone before. Hell, he didn't even have that many friends to meet up with. 

Next month works I guess, he answers despite his nerves.

Shar: Wanna face time before we start the legal work?

His nerves escalate, making his mouth dry. He reminds himself he's done this before, he's on camera all the time. 

PuppetOfMasters: Like, right now?

Shar: Yeah?

PuppetOfMasters: Ok, give me five minutes.

Eddie shoots up, checks himself in the mirror, and finds a good angle for his phone to set up. He lowkey hopes Steve picks up with his dick in the frame so Eddie can block him with a clear conscience and forget about the whole thing. When six minutes from his last message pass, he hits 'call'.

"Hi," Eddie squeaks when the video connects. Steve Harrington's arms are in the frame, crossed on the desk, and toned where he's leaning on them.

"Hi," he greets him with a dazzling smile. 

It is the guy from the photo, so at least he's not being catfished. And he has none of the creepy simp energy Eddie feared. He's just... a guy. It's both a relief and a disappointment. 

"Well?" the guy asks.

"Well, what?" Eddie frowns. 

"Are you disappointed? Am I too old?"

Eddie looks at him properly. His hair is lighter on the sides, but not grey yet, and the video quality doesn't make any wrinkles stand out to him. Maybe some worry lines, crow's feet if he squints. He looks like he keeps in shape, too. Eddie wouldn't call him old. Mature, maybe. A DILF slowly transforming into a Silver Fox. 

"You look fine. Good. You look good. Attractive," Eddie fumbles with his words and barely stops himself from facepalming. This is why he mostly texts.

Steve smirks at him. And holy shit, a dude twice his age smirking at him shouldn't be doing things to his body.

"You sure? You're not gonna block me after we hang up, are you?"

Eddie shakes his head.

"I stand by our plans. You're passing my creep radar so far, but uh..." He scratches his cheek nervously. "I'd like to keep in touch in case, you know. A red flag pops up. I hope you get it."

Steve nods, his expression growing serious.

"Absolutely. We're strangers, after all."

"Yeah." Eddie nods, relieved. It would give him ample time and opportunities to back out.

On the screen, Steve leans more on his arms, closer to the camera. 

"So I think dick assessment is next on the checklist?"

Eddie might not even survive video calls with this guy, after all. 

[gardenwalrus]

Norman Jopling interview with Paul McCartney, 'How The Beatles spend an evening', Record Mirror (week ending 15 May 1965) [The Beatles saw Bob Dylan perform on 9 May]

It was a typical quiet evening at London's Savoy Hotel. Quiet that is until the Beatles turned up to see Bob Dylan. They all trouped down to the restaurant and ordered Porridge and Pea Sandwiches.

They got them. Then one of the boys spotted Owls Legs on the menu. They ordered them as a joke. It didn't take too long before the Owls Legs were actually served, piping hot, to the group.

"But we wouldn't have known if they hadn't been Owls Legs" said Paul.

An evening out for the Beatles is something of a rarity nowadays. The boys are leading almost entirely self-contained lives and the latest development of theirs to entertain themselves are film projectors.

"We've all bought 16mm film projectors with sound and everything," explained Paul. "And we hire loads of films - it's surprising but you can get some of the really latest top films. For instance I've got "Topkapi" and "Tom Jones". And we hire some of Elvis's films too … I like them in the same way that I like "Double Your Money."

JOHN'S HOUSE - LIKE A CINEMA

"The projectors cost a lot of money, about two hundred quid I think. But they're worthwhile to us at least, because we don't get a chance to get out and see these films. John is the really keen one. He has it all organised, showing two films a night now. It's just like a cinema round his place. We all sit there eyes glued to the screen. And he doesn't start showing them until late, well, after television has finished and none of us get to bed until fantastically late hours.

"We all sit bleary-eyed in front of the screen making signs with our hands on the screen - little animals and all that ...

"So far we haven't got a copy of "Hard Day's Night". Not that it bothers me. I didn't like the film anyway. Seriously, I mean that. The original novelty or seeing yourself on screen wears off. You know, like home movies of yourself at the seaside. The good thing is that at least you can come out with anecdotes every ten seconds about what happened behind the scenes."

Paul talked about the Beatles next film, "Help".

"l like this one better. It has been great filming it. But all the residents of the Bahamas hated us. Really. They're so rich there and they were so rude to us that we just didn't care. We all rented Triumph Spitfires and drove them around the island. They didn't like that either.

"But there are some good scenes from the film. There are shots of us in a disused quarry, using it as a race track. We found it when we were waiting for the technicians. We were screeching around it like mad. Well, they filmed it slyly and put it in the film. Just like that.

"There are no speeded up shots, like in "A Hard Day's Night", but there arc some other visual gimmicks. Like standing on a rock In the middle or the ocean playing our instruments. And the next shot with us up to our necks in water, still playing. And one of Ringo, lying on his stomach on the beach swimming in the sand.'"

PAUL DIDN'T LIKE "TICKET"

Then Paul started to sing the Beatles next disc "Help" to us, taking the part of all the voices, and even the backing. He maintains it's much better than "Ticket To Ride".

"Can't say I liked 'Ticket' much," he stated. "But this new one is - in my opinion - good. I hope I don't sound big-headed. But I like it - it's certainly the fastest record we've made and it's very different. It's a bit like the middle eight in "It Won't Be Long" …

"I think that John and I are writing different sort of songs to what we were a couple of years back. I can't say whether they're better or worse but they're certainly different. And that is O.K. by us because we wouldn't want to stand still, to stagnate musically."

Somehow I can't imagine the Beatles ever doing that...

[legendary-69420]

Billionaire on the Track MOMENTS-3 (Extras ✨)

(Racing Hearts : VOLUME ?) MASTERLIST : RACING HEARTS

The interview was going well—smooth, lighthearted, and full of the usual banter that came with Formula 1 media rounds. Charles leaned back in his seat, a grin tugging at the corners of his lips as the reporter posed the next question.

"Charles, being a Ferrari driver comes with some perks, no? Tell us, if you could have any car in the world, what would it be?"

Charles tilted his head, considering the question, then chuckled. "Well, I’m pretty sure that if I ask, ‘I would like to drive this car,’ then Ferrari will make it happen. So yeah, this is obviously very, very special. Whatever car, whichever year, Ferrari can make it happen."

The room erupted in polite laughter, the ease in Charles’ tone and his casual confidence earning a few nods of agreement from the audience.

But then came Mark’s turn.

Sitting beside Charles, Mark Spencer adjusted his watch—a luxury piece that subtly caught the light—and answered with a nonchalant shrug. "Well, I’m pretty sure I’d already own the car I want in my collection."

The room fell silent for a moment, the blunt honesty of Mark’s words catching everyone off guard. Then, scattered laughter and murmurs filled the space.

Charles shot Mark a sideways glance, one eyebrow raised, as if to say, Really? But Mark, as usual, seemed utterly unbothered, leaning back in his chair with an easy smile.

Later, the internet buzzed with reactions to the interview.

"Charles is so spoiled by Ferrari, but Mark is such a spoiled brat…who does he think he is?"

"Wait, how rich is this guy to own every car he wants?"

"I like how he’s crazy rich but never actually mentions it."

"Mark really said 'Oh, I probably already own it' like it's nothing 😭🔥. Must be NICE to be that rich 💸."

"Charles is spoiled by Ferrari, but Mark is on ANOTHER level 😳. Imagine owning every car you dream of 🚗✨. Unreal."

"The AUDACITY of him to say that so casually 😭. I both hate him and want to be him 🥲💀."

"Charles: 'Ferrari will get me anything.' Mark: 'I already have it.' THESE TWO ARE ON COMPLETELY DIFFERENT LEVELS OF SPOILED 😭🔥."

"I swear this man lives in a different dimension 😂. Billionaire + F1 driver + insanely hot?? UNFAIR 💔🔥."

"Mark is out here reminding us all that we’re broke in the most elegant way possible 💀💸😭."

"So Mark’s basically been rich, famous, talented, and handsome his entire life? COOL COOL, I’M FINE, DEFINITELY NOT JEALOUS 🥲🔥."

"He’s so rich, yet so CHILL about it 🤷‍♂️😎. That’s the kind of rich we all aspire to be 💰✨."

Mark’s fans were quick to defend him, though, pointing out that his wealth had little to do with his skills on the track. Still, the intrigue around Mark’s family grew.

At home in Monaco, Charles sat on his couch, scrolling through Twitter on his phone. Every other tweet seemed to mention Mark’s comment or speculate about his background. His curiosity got the better of him.

Arthur, Charles’ younger brother, wandered into the living room, munching on an apple.

"Arthur," Charles said, not looking up from his phone, "do me a favor. Look up Mark Spencer’s family. I want to know who they are."

Arthur gave him a skeptical look. "Why? Feeling nosy ?"

"Just do it," Charles said, exasperated. "He said something in the interview today, and now the whole internet is losing its mind."

Arthur sighed, but he grabbed his laptop and started typing. It didn’t take long for him to find what he was looking for. A few minutes later, his eyes widened as he read through the search results.

"Okay," Arthur said, glancing at Charles. "This guy is… loaded. Like, top three billionaires in Italy loaded."

Charles’ eyebrows shot up. "Top three? You’re joking."

"I’m not," Arthur said, spinning the laptop around to show Charles the screen. "The Spencers are involved in everything—Coca-Cola, luxury brands like Louis Vuitton and Gucci, you name it. And apparently, they’ve been doing business with Ferrari for, like, 25 years. It’s practically in their blood."

Charles leaned forward, skimming through the details on the screen. The Spencer name carried weight, not just in Italy but globally. Alessandro Spencer, Mark’s father, was listed as one of the most influential businessmen in the world.

"So, he’s not just some rich guy," Charles muttered. "He’s that rich."

Arthur smirked. "Yup. Makes sense why he chose Ferrari, though, doesn’t it? Family history and all that."

Charles frowned. "Do people think that’s why he’s here? Because of his family?"

Arthur shrugged. "Some might. But listen to this—when Alessandro Spencer was asked about it, he said, ‘My son’s professional life is not affected by his family.’ So, basically, Mark got into F1 because of talent, not connections."

Charles leaned back in his seat, processing the information. Mark was an enigma. On one hand, he was the poster child for wealth and privilege, casually mentioning his car collection like it was nothing. On the other hand, he’d worked his way into Formula 1 on merit alone, proving that he wasn’t just coasting on his family name.

"Interesting," Charles murmured, a slight smile tugging at his lips. He was beginning to understand why Mark carried himself the way he did. There was more to the man than met the eye, and Charles couldn’t help but feel a little more intrigued.

---

The next time Charles saw Mark, it was at the track. Mark was leaning against a wall, chatting casually with a few engineers.

"Hey, Spencer," Charles called out, walking over.

Mark turned, his signature smirk already in place. "LecLec. To what do I owe the pleasure?"

Charles crossed his arms. "So, how big is this car collection of yours?"

Mark laughed, a deep, genuine sound. "Not Big enough," he said cryptically.

Charles shook his head, a grin breaking through despite himself. "You’re unbelievable."

"I try," Mark said with a wink. Then, as if sensing that Charles had been digging into his background, he added, "You know, you can just ask me next time, instead of sending your little brother on a fact-finding mission."

Charles froze. "How did you—"

Mark simply tapped the side of his head. "I have my ways."

As Mark walked away, Charles couldn’t help but laugh. The guy was impossible to figure out, but one thing was certain—Mark Spencer was full of surprises. (In reality Arthur just mentioned about it when him and Mark were simply texting about casual stuff)

[skyeslittlecorner]

On the other side - Andrealphus

I have no idea who proposed it because sadly I can't find it (found you! Thanks for inspiration @\rae-pss!), but someone came up with an idea of what would happen if the characters from WHB started to realize that the MC was not us. That there is someone on the other side of the screen who takes care of them. I created a little silly fic loosely interpreting it.

Word count: 1284

Other parts: On the other side | Promised Land | Point to point | Love is blind (18+)

꧁:･ ✡ ･:꧂

Life is so repeatable. Work, eat, sleep, work, eat, sleep, work, eat, sleep, only with some little pleasures in between. You took off jacket, threw it away and plopped down at the chair. Old phone landed on a table as you were struggling with thoughts whether to eat instant noodles today or heat up yesterday's dinner.

"Come on, boys." You turn on game and tapped loading screen just from boredroom. "I don't have all evening."

You wanted to have a pet, you've considered it a lot. But with these earnings, the closest thing to an animal in this house were fish sticks. So all that had left to do was talk to fictional hot guys. At least they don't need to be feed.

When Andrea appeared on the display, you tapped on him with a smile.

"Hi, babygirl."

"Who’s there…?"

You've never seen this speech bubble before. Update? But nothing downloaded, and any additional files were in a queue. Well, maybe it was one of those little tweaks nobody notice. You tapped the screen about three hundred more times to see if there were any new voice lines, but this time everything was the same. Maybe it was just a combination of overactive imagination and tiredness. Yes. Instant noodles will be a better option, you will make them faster and go to bed faster.

꧁:･ ✡ ･:꧂

"…and then this stupid bitch said it was all my fault." 

Lying half on the chair, half on the desk, and half somewhere in between, you were chatting with a friend on Discord and doing tasks for nightmare pass.

"That sucks. What are you going to do about it?"

"No idea. But if they take my bonus because of her, I'll kill her, I swear."

"I hope everything will be fine, but I have to go. Sorry."

"Yeah… Have fun on a date."

"Thanks!"

Hearing the disconnection sound, you sighed. Obviously, you couldn't blame them, keeping fingers crossed that they had found their other half of orange, but now they didn't even have time to meet for coffee, and you lived three minutes' walk from each other. Talking together, joking together, everything faded into the background. In addition, work was getting worse...

"I also hope everything will work out"

The voice sounded different. Familiar. But they definitely weren't your friend. You quickly checked the screen to see if anyone had joined the voice chat, but the screen was blank.

"What… Who? How?" Of course, there was no one around the room. Is this the beginning of hallucinations?

"I'd like to ask this too."

The voice that came from the speakers. From the telephone. From...?

The phone screen showed only a familiar sprite turning its head from side to side.  You forgot about the strange update from a few days ago. Was that it again? Andrea's red braid was beautifully animated, and facial expressions changed, delicate movements of the eyebrows and lips showed new emotions. It really looked stunningly real.

"Gorgeous." You complimented in a whisper godly work of the animator. "I can't wait until you get L, since you already look so sexy as S..."

"What are S and L...?"

He answered without tapping. Moreover, he tilted his head as if listening. There's been a lot of talk about AI lately, but you didn't agree to use the microphone in game… Unless it's some stinky term of services. This needs to be turned off, it will probably be in the settings. But after checking options, there was nothing like that there.

"Strange…"

"Trust me, I find it unnatural too." Andrea replied with an uncertain smile. "I hear you, but I don't feel anyone around me. But your voice… It’s nice. Can you keep talking? It feels good to be less... alone."

He sounded so much in character. Whoever programmed this, put a lot of work into it. It was a little weird... but you were so tired and done that chatting with the AI seemed like a nice change.

"Sure. It's weird talking to the screen, but well, I do it all the time anyway. Good thing it’s only an AI, because if anyone heard half the nonsense I moan, they'd probably send me to solitary confinement."

"You're calling grown man babygirl."

"Because you are!"

He chuckled, and it felt almost like a talking to an actual human. Muttering such nonsense, you felt ashamed for a moment. If the government suddenly started eavesdropping, the agent who was in charge was such a poor man.

"Tell me something else." He asked. "I've been hearing your voice for several days. I'd like to finally know who I'm having the pleasure of talking with."

He didn't have to ask twice. Of course, without providing any personal details, but you could give him your name. And told about that stupid bitch at work...

꧁:･ ✡ ･:꧂

You checked tumblr, checked X, and checked the official website of the game. There was no word about an update anywhere, and after writing that this new option with talking to devils was great, all mutuals started to worry if everything was okay or asked how to unlock it. What were you supposed to tell them? That it just appeared?

What's worse, you started to treat Andrea like an ordinary person. A human being. Turning on the game during cleaning, cooking or making bed, talking to that little devil on the screen, and... listening to his stories. He spoke so beautifully. Talked about how he likes to spend his time (if not murdering angels), or what everyday life in Nilfheim is like. Sometimes he worried about the war, sometimes was happy when you stayed with him longer being off work.

"My blindness is truly a gift." He said one day with a dreamy smile.

"Why so?"

"In this daily hustle, if my eyes were still working properly, I certainly wouldn't be able to hear you, a small voice in my consciousness. I thought there was something wrong with me. But when I finally focused, you heard me too."

What he said was so similar to what you remembered about own feelings. Longing tightened your chest, longing for someone who didn't exist in this world, and that feeling turned into pain.

"I'm also glad we can hear from each other." Your voice changed noticeably. 

Andrea sensed it.

"Now that we've been able to talk, maybe one day we'll be able to touch each other?" He held his hand out in front of him, but you knew he couldn't pass through the screen. Still, you placed a finger where his hand was. Stupid mind was tricking you that you could feel his warmth. Tears came to your eyes.

"One day." You whispered with a trembling voice. "I don't know how, but one day we will."

"Do not cry, please. I don't want you to ever cry because of me.”

You tried to keep calm, but it was no use. Maybe one day, in another time, in another reality. Maybe it will work. No, it has to work. No matter how crazy others might think you were, this wasn't the world you were supposed to stay in. Your intended one waited patiently on the other side of the screen. You just didn't know how to do it. Not yet.

[ohgodthevoices]

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ Save point °❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

time skip kenma x f!reader

word count : 3460

note : this fanfic will be on my ao3 >here< it might be more organized and easier to keep up with it but i will still upload the chapters here <3. AND IM SORRY IK ITS LONG TRUST ITS WORTH IT (find the hamilton ref)

chapter 1/ chapter 2/ chapter 3

Chapter 3

The office buzzed with an almost frantic energy, a sharp contrast to its usual laid-back atmosphere. Desks were cluttered with empty coffee cups, tangled wires, and hastily scribbled notes. 

“Textures on the environment assets are still glitching—can someone fix that before the demo?” “The dialogue tree isn’t syncing properly. Do we have a workaround?” “Where’s the updated build? We need to test it before Kenma sees it!”

You sat at your desk, tablet in hand, watching the chaos unfold around you. Your own work was mostly done—character designs finalized, animations polished—but the tension in the room was contagious. It felt like walking on a tightrope, the weight of the upcoming demo pressing down on everyone.

Kaori was sitting next to you , finishing up her own work “Emotional support” she said .

You glanced toward Kenma’s office, its glass walls giving him a perfect view of the bustling team. He sat at his desk, headphones on, his gaze fixed on his screen. His usual calm was unnerving in the midst of the chaos, as if he were completely unaffected by the looming deadline.

“Does he even feel stress?” you muttered under your breath, earning a chuckle from Lila.

“Probably not,” she said, shaking her head. “I'm doubting if he even has a soul.”

But even as you joked, you couldn’t help but notice his foot tapping the floor, the slight tension in his shoulders. Maybe he wasn’t as unshakable as he seemed.

A voice snapped you out of your thoughts. “We need the character renders loaded into the build now!”

You jolted, realizing they were talking to you. Quickly, you uploaded the files, double-checking each one before sending them over.

The clock ticked down, the buzz in the room growing more frantic by the second. By the time the demo was ready to begin, the air felt electric, every team member holding their breath as they waited to see if their hard work would pay off—or fall apart.

Time passed, the demo started , you weren't allowed in the room but you had a small view on the room where it happened 

From where you sat, you could just make out the faint sound of the game’s opening cinematic. You smiled to yourself, imagining how good your designs must look on the big screen. For a moment, you let yourself feel a flicker of pride.

Then the silence came.

It was the kind of silence that wasn’t supposed to happen during a demo, the kind that made your stomach drop. You glanced around the office, catching worried glances from a few coworkers. The sound of muffled voices picked up again, sharper now, though you couldn’t make out the words.

Kaori appeared beside your desk and placed a snack down next to you and leaned in. “It doesn’t sound good,” she whispered, her voice low.

You frowned, setting your sketches aside. “What happened?”

She shrugged, her expression grim. “Not sure, but I heard something about a major glitch.”

Your chest tightened. The game freezing? Dialogue breaking? A combat sequence failing to trigger? Any of it could spell disaster.

The door to the conference room opened, and people began to file out. Investors walked past with tight-lipped expressions, their voices hushed as they whispered to one another.

Then you saw Kenma.

He stepped out last, his posture as calm and measured as ever, but there was something different in his expression. His golden eyes were colder than usual, his lips pressed into a thin line. His gaze swept across the office before he walked toward his own, not sparing a glance at anyone.

Kaori let out a low whistle. “That’s not a good sign.”

You nodded, the weight of the moment settling in your chest. Whatever happened in that room, it was bad. And judging by Kenma’s face, it wasn’t something that would blow over easily.

—--------------------------------------------

The office was nearly empty when you finally tore your eyes away from your screen. Most of your coworkers had gone hours ago, leaving only you and a few employees in other sectors

You stretched, rolling your shoulders as fatigue crept in. You’d stayed late to rework the designs, hoping a few more hours might bring clarity—or at least a breakthrough. You let out a long sigh turning off your monitor and tablet

As you reached for your bag, a sound caught your attention. A muffled thud, followed by something quieter.. a faint, shaky..exhale ?

You froze, heart beating faster as you strained to listen. The sound was coming from further down the hall. God I didn't realise how creepy this office is at night , what if its a ghost, or some kind of lost spirit ?!

Curiosity prickled at you, though you told yourself it was concern. Slowly, you made your way down the corridor, your steps light against the carpet. Maybe you wouldn't survive in a horror movie but you needed to know what it was.

The hallway was dim, lit only by the glow spilling from a few open office doors. You passed by one, then another, but the noise seemed to grow louder as you neared the end of the corridor.

You stopped outside a door that was slightly ajar, the soft light spilling out into the hall. It wasn’t labeled, but you recognized the layout inside: a desk cluttered with papers, a glowing monitor, and the faint silhouette of someone hunched over.

You squinted, trying to make out more. The person inside was slumped forward, their head in their hands. Their shoulders shook slightly, and the sound of a sharp, uneven breath cut through the air.

Your heart skipped. You weren’t sure who it was, but the raw vulnerability of the scene stopped you in your tracks. This wasn’t just someone staying late to finish work—they were struggling, breaking down in a way that felt almost too personal to witness.

For a moment, you considered stepping inside, saying something, anything. But the weight of the moment held you back. What could you even say? Would they want to know you’d seen them like this?

It wasn’t until his head snapped up that you realized who it was. His watery eyes locked onto yours, wide with shock, and in that instant, everything clicked.

It was Kenma.

Your heart skipped, and a sudden rush of guilt flooded your chest. You hadn’t meant to see him like this—hadn’t meant to witness the rawness of his emotion. But there he was, hunched over his desk, his face partially hidden in his hands. The way his shoulders trembled with each breath, the tightness of his posture—it was clear he was trying to hold it all together, but it was slipping.

The moment his eyes met yours, something shifted in him. His expression twisted into something darker—anger, frustration—and the mask he always wore crumbled, revealing a vulnerability that took you by surprise.

“What the hell are you doing here?” he snapped, his voice rough, more forceful than you’d ever heard it.

You flinched, the sharpness of his words hitting you like a physical blow. He quickly wiped his face with the back of his hand, but it was too late. The red of his nose and around his eyes and the wetness on his cheeks were impossible to ignore.

“I—” You started to speak, but the words stuck in your throat.

Kenma shot you a glare, his fists clenching at his sides as he stood up abruptly, pushing his chair back with a loud scrape. “Don’t you dare just stand there. Leave.”

The anger in his voice made your stomach twist. You hadn’t expected this—hadn’t expected him to lash out at you like this, not when you’d only been a silent observer. But the more he tried to hide it, the more it became clear: he was furious at himself, at the situation, and somehow, you were a part of it.

You opened your mouth again, but Kenma was already turning away, his back to you as he moved to the other side of the room. His shoulders were tense, the anger radiating off of him like a physical force.

“I said leave.” His voice was quieter now, but the coldness in it sent a shiver down your spine.

You hesitated for a moment, the weight of his words hanging in the air. But there was nothing more to say. You turned and walked away, the door clicking softly behind you as you left him to his solitude.

But even as you made your way back to your desk, the image of him—angry, frustrated, and vulnerable—stayed with you, gnawing at the back of your mind.

“Leave.” His command was sharp, almost too much to bear, but there was a flicker of something in his eyes—something that made you hesitate before turning around.

But you didn’t.

Instead, you stepped forward,  your resolve firming. “I’m not leaving” you said, your voice more certain than you felt. “You’re clearly struggling, and I can’t just ignore it.”

Kenma’s face tightened, and his fists clenched at his sides. He looked like he wanted to shout, to push you away with force, but instead, he just stood there, breathing heavily. The tension between you grew thick in the air, an almost electric charge that neither of you could shake.

“I don’t need your help.” His voice cracked.

But the more he tried to push you away, the more persistent you became. You could see the cracks in his carefully constructed wall, the way he was unraveling, and it gnawed at you. You didn’t care if he was angry. You couldn’t just leave him like this, not when he clearly needed someone.

“I’m not leaving you to drown in this,” you said, your tone steady, though your heart was racing. “You’re not alone in this, Kenma. I’m here.”

His eyes narrowed, and for a moment, it seemed like he might explode. His jaw clenched, his chest rising and falling with sharp breaths, but still, you didn’t back down.

“Why do you care so much?” he demanded, his voice trembling with a mix of frustration and something deeper—something that almost sounded like desperation. “It’s not your problem.” He didn’t bother to hide his tears anymore.

You stepped closer, not letting the anger in his voice deter you. “It is my problem. i’m part of this team. and I’m not going to just let you fall apart on your own.”

The words hung in the air between you, charged with something unspoken. Kenma stood there, glaring at you, but his shoulders were slumped, the anger slowly giving way to exhaustion. You could see the fight draining out of him, replaced by something else—something raw, something vulnerable.

He opened his mouth, probably to tell you to leave again, but the words didn’t come. Instead, he let out a long, frustrated sigh, his head dropping forward as he rubbed his temples.

“I’m fine,” he muttered, but it was weak, as if he was trying to convince himself more than you.

You didn’t buy it. “No, you’re not,” you said firmly. “But that’s okay. We’ll figure it out.”

The silence between you was heavy. Kenma didn’t say anything, but he didn’t push you away either. The tension hung in the air, thick and palpable, but not in a bad way. It was as if, in that moment, you were both finally seeing each other as more than just colleagues, more than just distant coworkers that didn’t really stand each other.  There was an understanding now, a shared space where neither of you had to be perfect.

Kenma didn’t look at you as he sat back down at his desk, but his shoulders had relaxed just a little. His silence wasn’t a rejection—it was something else. Something that felt like the first step toward something more.

You hesitated for a moment, unsure of what to do next, before finally stepping into the room a little more.

The sound seemed to pull Kenma’s attention back to you, his golden eyes narrowing slightly. “You don’t have to stay,” he muttered, his voice quieter now, though the edge of frustration still lingered.

“I know,” you said simply, setting your tablet down on the edge of his desk. “But I’m here anyway.”

Kenma sighed, rubbing a hand over his face before crossing his arms on the desk and burying his face in between, and for a moment, he looked utterly drained. The usual sharpness in his gaze was dulled by exhaustion, and the faint shadows under his eyes betrayed how little sleep he’d gotten.

You pulled up a chair and sat across from him, folding your arms on the desk, getting in the same position as him, you chin resting on your forearm. “You’re not going to fix anything like this,” you said, your tone softer now but no less firm. “You can’t keep running yourself into the ground.”

Kenma sighed again, his shoulders rising and falling heavily as if the weight of the world rested on them. He shifted slightly, lifting his face from the cradle of his arms. His usually sharp eyes  met yours directly, and for a moment, the world seemed to still.

The intensity of his gaze caught you off guard,stoping your steady breathing, the soft glow of his desk lamp casting warm highlights over his features. You hadn’t realized how close you’d leaned in until now, the space between you shrinking to just a breath.

Your eyes flickered over his face, suddenly hyper-aware of every detail. The faint creases on his forehead from furrowing his brows too often. The slight flush on his cheeks, likely from exhaustion or frustration. The way his lips slightly open, as though holding back words he wasn’t ready to say. Even the stray strands of his ash-blonde hair that had fallen out of place seemed to draw your attention.

And his eyes—those damn eyes that seemed to hold a storm of emotions he refused to voice. Up close, you could see the subtle flecks of amber that softened their intensity, a contrast to the hard lines of his expression.

Your breath hitched—an unexpected flutter stirring in your chest. It wasn’t the kind of feeling you wanted to acknowledge, but the subtle warmth spreading through you was impossible to ignore, leaving you momentarily unsteady in the face of his quiet vulnerability. the proximity suddenly feeling too intimate, too charged. But you couldn’t look away, and neither could he.

For a fleeting moment, it felt like something unspoken passed between you, a fragile connection that neither of you fully understood. Then, as quickly as it had appeared, Kenma broke the silence, his voice low and rough.

“What are you staring at?” he muttered, his tone defensive but lacking its usual bite.

You blinked, snapping out of your trance. “Nothing,” you said quickly, leaning back in your chair and clearing your throat. “Just making sure you’re still alive, breathing… you know..” God that’s embarassingggg

Kenma huffed, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his lips despite himself. “Barely.”

The tension eased slightly, but the memory of that moment lingered, the intensity of his gaze seared into your mind. You weren’t sure what it meant, but one thing was certain: you’d never seen Kenma like this before, and you might not be able to see it again

The room felt heavier than before, the silence stretching between you like a challenge neither of you wanted to address.

You sighed, leaning forward slightly. “Look,” you began, your voice steady but edged with frustration, “I’m going to be honest—I don’t really like you.” I’m risking my job right now…

That got his attention. Kenma’s eyes snapped up to meet yours, his expression a mix of surprise and something darker, like he was bracing for another jab.

“But,” you continued, your tone softening just enough to show you weren’t trying to pick a fight, “I’m still human enough to not leave someone alone when they’re clearly in this state.”

His brows furrowed, and for a moment, you thought he might snap back. Instead, he scoffed quietly, looking away. “I don’t need your pity,” he muttered, his voice low but strained.

“It’s not pity,” you shot back quickly. “It’s basic decency. And whether you like it or not, you look like you’re about two seconds away from completely crashing out.”

You could see the conflict playing out in his expression—the tension in his shoulders, the way his eyes flickered between the desk and your face as if trying to decide whether to push you away or let you stay.

“Why do you care?” he asked finally, his tone sharp but quieter than before.

You shrugged, leaning back slightly. “Because I’ve been there. And because someone should.”

For a long moment, he just stared at you, his gaze searching yours as if trying to find some ulterior motive. When he didn’t, his shoulders sagged slightly, the fight seeming to drain out of him.

“Fine,” he muttered, turning back to his monitor. “Do whatever you want. Just don’t expect me to start spilling my guts or anything.”

A small smirk tugged at your lips. “Don’t worry. I’m not that invested. I still dont like you”

He let out a quiet huff that might have been a laugh—or maybe just an exhale—but he didn’t push you away yet.

The room was still heavy with tension, but something about it felt different now—less isolating, more... shared.

Neither of you said anything more, but the silence wasn’t as suffocating as before.

“Kenma,” you said, breaking the silence.

He didn’t look up. “What?”

“You need to eat something.”

“No I don’t”

“Yes you do”

“You’re annoying”

“I know” 

For a moment, it looked like he was going to argue, but instead, he let out a sharp sigh and reached for the half-forgotten snack bar on his desk. He unwrapped it with deliberate slowness, his movements almost begrudging.

“Happy now?” he muttered before taking a bite.

“Ecstatic,” you replied, a small smirk tugging at your lips.

Kenma rolled his eyes but didn’t say anything else, you get up from the chair, satisfied that you’d won this round, even if it was a small victory

“I’m leaving,” you said over your shoulder as you turned toward the door, you hesitated, your hand hovering over the doorknob, and then added with a wry smile, “don’t die yet, I need my salary.”

The words hung in the air for a moment, and you braced yourself for some curt remark. Instead, there was a pause, followed by a faint shift in his tone.

“Goodnight,” he said, his voice quieter, softer. You could almost hear a smile in the way he said it, subtle but unmistakable.

You froze for half a second, glancing back at him, but he was already focused on his screen again, the glow of the monitor highlighting the faintest curve at the corner of his lips.

A small grin crept onto your own face as you opened the door. “Goodnight, Kenma,” you replied, stepping into the hallway.

As the door closed behind you, the quiet of the corridor felt lighter somehow, and you couldn’t help but feel like you’d just witnessed something rare—like catching a glimpse of sunlight breaking through the dark clouds.

You made your way back to your desk  your steps a little slower than usual as your mind replayed the interaction with Kenma. You gathered your bag, the weight of it feeling heavier than it should. There was a strange feeling in your chest—something between satisfaction and confusion.

You hadn’t expected him to react the way he did, especially not after all the tension that had built up between you two. His cold behaviour, his rejection of “extra” conversation with anyone, all of that had softened just a little. And that smile—or whatever it was, that subtle shift in his voice—caught you off guard. It wasn’t a big thing, but it was enough to make you wonder if there was more to him. 

You’d always thought of Kenma as someone who kept everyone at arm's length, someone who didn’t let anyone in. 

Why did you even care ? It wasn’t like you liked him ? He was frustrating, distant, and clearly didn’t want anyone getting too close. That was fine, you didn’t want to get close to him , he doesn’t seem like he would be a good friend anyway.

You stepped out of the office, the cool air of the night hitting your face as you walked toward the exit. But even as you headed home, you couldn’t shake the feeling that this wasn’t over. Your curiosity peaking at you, throwing questions at you. That’s human nature after all, once we get a glimpse of something we will always want more.

Eh whatever , you couldn’t be asked to care that much

note : i write way too much , way too fast. guys please i actually just write in class this is mad and probably very bad for me BUT OH WELL

@miruac

[fuschiaarrowpublications]

THE OUROBOROS OF DAVE: Life is Hell PT.3

“Love is the only reality, and it is not a mere sentiment. It is the ultimate truth at the heart of creation.”

– Rabindranath Tagore

Chapter 3: Lust in Translation

Dave woke up and fumbled out of bed, groaning at the thin layer of sweat clinging to his skin. “Gross,” he muttered to himself as he swiped a damp hand across his forehead. Maybe the AC was acting up again, or maybe it was just another weird part of his day-to-day lately. Whatever it was, he shoved it to the back of his mind and grabbed his VR headset off the cluttered desk.

It had all started as a joke in an online VR hangout. He’d been sitting in a virtual tavern with his buddies when Eulemia strolled in, bold and confident. She’d walked straight up to him and declared, “What’s a space alien like you doing in a place like this?” It was corny, but it worked.

Two weeks later, they were texting, calling, and spending hours together in their private VR world. She wasn’t just someone to pass the time with; she felt real.

The morning passed in a haze of anticipation. As he worked from home, Dave's phone buzzed with texts from Eulemia.

Eulemia: How’s work, my alien overlord?

Dave: Boring as hell. Thinking about you, though.

Eulemia: Flattery will get you everywhere, you know.

Dave: Well, if you like that, wait until tonight.

By the time his shift ended, Dave couldn’t focus on anything else. He slipped back into VR, where they spent hours in their shared world. Tonight, they stood on the edge of a pixelated alien landscape under a glittering digital sky.

“You’re too sweet,” Eulemia said, leaning in close. Her tusks glinted in the starlight. “I don’t know how I got so lucky to find you.”

Dave scratched the back of his head. “Guess we’re both lucky, huh?”

They stayed like that for hours—talking, joking, flirting. The conversation turned sultry, as it often did, and Dave found himself blushing despite being alone in his room.

Later that night, as Dave lay sprawled on his bed, still wearing the wireless headset, he felt a buzz from his phone.

Eulemia: You know… I was thinking. Maybe it’s time we met outside VR.

Dave’s stomach did a weird flip. They’d joked about it before, but this was the first time she’d suggested it seriously.

Dave: Yeah? I’d like that.

Eulemia: Let’s FaceTime. Right now.

His palms felt clammy as he pulled off the headset and picked up his phone. Heart pounding, he swiped to accept the call. The screen loaded, and…

“Hey, Dave!”

The voice was deeper. Masculine.

The face staring back at him wasn’t Eulemia—or at least, not what he’d imagined. Instead, it was a scruffy-looking guy in his mid-thirties wearing a tank top and leaning back in a gaming chair. “Man, you should’ve seen the look on your face,” the guy said, grinning.

Dave froze, his brain short-circuiting. “What… what the hell is this?”

The guy cackled. “Oh, come on, don’t be mad. You made it so easy, dude! Two weeks of this alien-orc romance crap? I had to see how far you’d go.”

Dave’s face flushed red with a mixture of anger and embarrassment. “You’ve gotta be kidding me.”

He shot up from his chair, gripping his phone so tightly his knuckles turned white. His foot caught on the leg of the chair, and before he could catch himself, he stumbled backward.

The VR headset, still perched on the edge of the desk, toppled to the floor as Dave fell. Arms flailing, he crashed into the window behind him. The glass shattered, and Dave found himself airborne.

Below him, a speed dating event was taking place on the patio of the café beneath his apartment. A dozen startled faces turned upward just in time to see Dave plummet into the middle of their carefully arranged tables.

The last thing Dave saw before everything went dark was a cluster of horrified singles, their drinks spilling as he landed with a resounding crash.

Upstairs, his phone buzzed with a final text from Eulemia—or whoever he’d been talking to.

Eulemia: RIP, alien overlord.

[ryuichirou]

Replies

Today’s replies! One about SnK, one about SPTO, a bunch about TWST.

6ubble-gum asked:

Every so often I'll find ur tiny founding titan arts again and spend a good long few minutes gushing over it lmao. snk is dead to me but tiny founder is alive and well (espec the fleas art)

Ahh it’s so sweet that you remember and look at it from time to time! I’ll repeat myself, but wow it is truly surprising that our SnK stuff isn’t totally forgotten. I feel like even I don’t remember the majority of it…

I’m very glad our teeny tiny Founder (with his little fleas) makes you happy~ God I remember when we drew it and these were the newest chapters…  wild times.

Anonymous asked:

Speaking of Yandere Todd, I can already imagine him being extremely jealous of Mobile. Mobile would have to fight Wallace’s ‘evil ex’. They would have a fight to see who’s the better psychic for Wallace. And then Wallace watched all of this with a drink in his hand while he cheers his boyfriend on. And then he might call for a restraining order on Todd. That’s what I can imagine

OH NOOO I love how absolutely devastatingly one-sided this is. Wallace cheering Mobile on, Mobile winning…  At least Todd got his participation prize… which is a restraining order 😔

Jokes aside, I find it endlessly amusing that Wallace just keeps hooking up with psychic guys. I don’t necessarily think it’s intentional, but I do think Wallace benefits from it very nicely. In a lot of ways…

And it does make the psychic vs psychic scenarios very possible, I would honestly love to watch them fight. Or to draw them fighting... For some reason though (lol) I get a feeling that Mobile is more powerful than Todd. Gotta train more! For Wallace Wells! 💪

Anonymous asked:

I found your art on pinterest, here's the link: [I edited out the link]

Thank you for letting us know, Anon! Unfortunately, I don’t know if there is anything I can do to take it down… But we still appreciate you letting us know. Pinterest doesn’t respond to the request promptly.

The comments are hilarious though. Love it when people talk about me as if I’m a cryptid that steals people’s fingers and eats their kids.

Anonymous asked:

Do you think Idia and Lilia will ever do cosplay together and if yes, what couple are they cosplaying?

I feel like Lilia is that force in Idia’s life that could make him consider things that used to be a definite “no-no” to him, and we do know that Idia actually doesn’t mind cosplaying as long as his head is hidden… And the whole cosplay thing sounds like something Lilia would want to try at least once, so maybe that could happen. If there is a combo of a character with his face (and head: can’t show burning hair) completely hidden + someone tiny and adorable? In any way, Idia is definitely going to overthink this whole thing, only for Lilia to change his mind and tell Idia that they should switch costumes with each other at the very last moment lol

Anonymous asked:

Got Azul, Jamil, Idia, and Riddle on a loading screen today and I blame you for immediately thinking about how much of a dream come true it would be for Azul to have all three of them 😂

Haha YESSSSS YESSSSSSSSS (proud of our bad influence)

It really is a dream come true, what a wonderful harem of reluctant lovers that don’t even like Azul all that much. But it doesn’t matter, because all three of them are his and his only <3

Good for him!

Anonymous asked:

have you seen ruggie’s club outfit?? he looks so good, i can’t wait till we get to see what his bottoms—i mean leona and epel look like in their club gear

Yeah I have! It’s very cool, it suits Ruggie a lot. He really does look like he is about to go and dominate some bitches lol

It’s also cool to finally see the uniform that magift players wear… is this the first time we’re seeing it? They usually wear their PE uniform... It’s a great design, and once again, Ruggie deserves to look cool. Good for him too!

Anonymous asked:

Random thought but Riddle being both in Heartslabyul and Horseback riding club... He's really constantly surrounded by big-tiddied green men :3 Good for him

Oh god I keep forgetting that Sebek also has a constant presence in Riddle’s life… you’re so right omg, what a sick twist of fate. Widdle Widdle (little Riddle) and big-tiddied green men that just keep spawning around him AHHH

Seriously, good for him. Am I ending the third reply in a row with this phrase? Well, everyone got what they deserved…

[casspurrjoybell-17]

 Hart and Hunter - Chapter 10 - Part 2

*Warning Adult Content*

Dane Hunter

Briefly, I describe Detective Derek Erickson and my, mutual dislike and the two most recent incidents.

"Wow. What a dick," she concludes when I finish.

"And what kind of dick name is 'Derek Erickson' anyway?"

"Figure he can't help his name," I say.

"The rest is another matter."

"You know where he lives?"

"Not off-hand. Why?"

She leans on my arm as we walk.

"We should go to his house as Wolves... teach him a lesson."

I stop in my tracks, taken aback.

"Why would you even suggest that?"

"I don't mean we'd hurt him," she says quickly, frowning at me with wide eyes.

"I just meant we should scare him a little."

I shake my head and start walking again.

"That isn't how we do things, Grids."

She jogs to keep up with me.

"Shit, I was just joking," she says, beginning to sulk and sounding a little out of breath.

"Don't take everything so serious."

I hold my silence until we reach the car.

As we load our bags in the back, I clear my throat.

"Look, I know some Packs do things differently but Mom and Dad never used the Wolf to harm or frighten and neither will I and don't say stuff like that around Julian... even as a joke."

"Jeez, Dane," she huffs.

"He's not a baby. He's..."

"He was Hunted, Ingrid," I snap.

"By wolves who meant to kill him. I still see that fear in his eyes, sometimes, when he looks at me as a wolf. Even if he knows I never would, he knows what I could do,and that's enough. So don't talk about scaring people... even as a joke."

"Fine," she says, suitably chagrined.

"I'm sorry."

Sighing, I release the tension that's been building up in my shoulders since 'Pauline' realized who she was talking to.

"Don't worry about it and it's not like I'm any better... I threatened Erickson to his face when he dropped a hint he knows about you. Guess you musta made some impression on his sister."

Ingrid huffs again and settles back in her seat with her arms crossed.

"She's alright. She's just..."

"The sort who likes 'diversity' as long as it makes her look good?" I suggest and she nods.

"She offered me some of her hand-me-down clothes. I can afford my own damn clothes, thanks."

I grunt and suddenly, the hair appointment and the shopping spree make more sense.

"Well," I say, looking over at her.

"Even though I'd never do it and I don't condone even joking about such a thing, I'll admit I've fantasized about scaring the shit out of Erickson myself, once or twice."

She giggles, spirits restored.

At the same time, my cell-phone buzzes and I see Noah's name on the screen.

I answer it.

"Noah. You got something for me, bro?"

"Dane... those runes you sent me. Where did you find them again?"

"Written on the walls of a couple of stores that got burglarized. Are they Fae, like Julian thought?"

"Definitely," Noah pauses and I wait, giving him a chance to get his thoughts and words in order.

Brilliant linguist though he may be, he has an ironic tendency to stutter when he's nervous.

"Do you remember how Fae runes have multiple layers of meaning?" he asks.

"Not really."

To be honest, I never paid that much attention.

"Well, they do. Depending on the context, the same rune can indicate a sound or a syllable, a whole word or a name or an entire range of concepts. Connotation and denotation and so on."

"Uh huh."

It's easier to pretend I know what he's talking about than to invite more explanation.

"Anyway, the runes you sent me could mean a bunch of different things but I narrowed it down to a few I thought made the most sense. The second one... the one you said they found in the bike-shop... means 'justice' or 'done' and can also mean 'death' or 'fate.' It's also a Fae family name... ha' Lárán."

"Which means?"

"Son of Lárán, I'd guess," Noah says.

"So, did the thief or murderer, sign his crime? Or is it just coincidence?"

"I don't know but I'd say the meaning is intentional."

"And the first rune?"

Noah hesitates and I wait as patiently as I can, imagining him beginning to pace or fiddle with something as he does when nervous.

"That one was harder. The meaning of the runes can change depending on how they're written... right side up, upside down or paired with other runes. As best as I can tell, it means 'warning' or 'danger' and..."

"And what?"

"And it's also the rune for a stag," he pauses, as if this should mean something important to me but I draw a blank.

"A stag. So?"

"A specific kind of stag," Noah continues.

"One that's old enough to be hunted."

Something Julian once told me comes back to me and I go stiff.

"A hart?"

"The word's not the same, of course but that would be the most accurate translation."

"Shit. So, is it a warning or a threat?"

"That, I can't say but either way, it would seem to be meant for Julian."

I rub my hand over my mouth.

"Anything else?"

"No, that's all I could discern. But send me anything else you find," his voice warms with academic enthusiasm as he speaks and I can't help smiling as I imagine him pushing his glasses up his nose and taking notes.

"This is actually quite fascinating. The runes are an older form, so my interpretations are somewhat subjective, of course but..."

"Thanks, Noah. We'll be in touch," I say, cutting him before he gets too far into lecture mode and end the call.

"What did he say?" Ingrid asks, as I put the car in reverse and back out of the parking spot.

"He figures it might not be coincidence Julian found the first rune. It has the same meaning as his last name and was probably meant for him."

"What about the second one?"

"That could be a name, too, though I haven't heard it before.. 'ha' Lárán' or something."

"Halloran? Isn't that the guy Jules is with?"

I admit my car's not the quietest ride but Ingrid's wolf's ears should be able to compensate for the noise at her age.

"No, not 'Halloran.' It's..." I trail off as the sounds align and then swear.

The way Julian had stared at the guy had made no sense, almost as if he'd recognized him, somehow.

"Shit. Hold on to your lunch," I say.

"We're about to break some speed limits."

[mapleshmaple]

,.,

[mywritingonlyfans]

Missing Joseph Quinn when he's away filming ✨/ Joseph Quinn X Reader! (Fluff)

prompt: you're both missing each other a lot. so, it's just a smooth, comfortable and super fluffly convo thru facetime when you don't see each other for a while basically.

words: 1,5K.

“You look sad, are you sure your day was good?” He laid his head on his arm on the pillow. His eyes fixed at a good angle, making it possible to see how tired they were.

“Not really, but it was the usual, nothing innovative.” You said simply, watching him through your laptop screen as you tried to comfort yourself with the smell of your shirt that was his. Embracing your own arms, you allowed yourself to feel the soft cotton fabric, it was far from what you needed but you liked to imagine that he was there by your side. “Could you tell me how was yours instead? How was the filming today?” You smiled, distinctly sleepy, and waited for him to respond.

His prominent cheekbones became more present and you thanked someone for having been successful in inventing something like facetime and good image resolution on internet, otherwise you would never have known how to deal with that distance. “It was great, I wish you were there.” You smiled sadly, even though it was genuine. You tried to hide it, but after a while it wasn’t so easy. He continued with his eyes on yours, moving on to a story of how Gaten had swallowed a packaged cake all at once, you laughed, letting your attention stray to him, on how his hair was still damp, cheeks still flushed from the long day he probably had, how you could count the freckles on his shoulder because he was shirtless, probably ready to sleep, and how the hotel room looked too dark compared to yours. He should be resting. “Are you listenin’, hottie?” His thick voice echoed in your ear, almost like he was with you.

You hugged the comforter to your side, burying half your face into it. All your head could think of was how you needed his hugs, the kind where he would squeeze you and lift you up in the air and kiss your head over and over and you could dip your nose into his shirt and feel him on you.

“Puppy, it’s okay,” he said serenely, taking the hand that was on his chest to touch you before he realized what he was doing. He could barely see your face, just your shoulders shaking a little. He took a deep breath and his eyes watered a bit. He hated it sometimes. “It’s okay, I miss you loads too.”

“Still, you are not crying,” you joked in a laugh, looking at the ceiling, clearly avoiding letting him look at you while you let more tears run down your face. “Not that I think you should.”

He huffed, watching you pull the collar of his shirt up over your mouth, probably to dry your tears. He knew you didn’t feel bad about him having to spend this time away, you always supported him, but he understood that you couldn’t help yourself and get hurt by it. As much as it hurt to admit it.

“I’m just really tired,” you turned to him. He ran a hand over his face, which was already red, and avoided crying. Laughing, you realized you almost forgot that he was such a soft and couldn’t help but cry along with you when he saw you sad. “I’m okay, honestly. I’ve been wearing this shirt for like 3 days straight and your smell is starting to fade from it, but I’m fine.” He admired your excited tone to lighten the conversation. His throat was dry, he just wanted to snuggle you in his arms after seeing you bouncing at the sight of him after a long time like you always do when you visit him on set. “I promised myself not to cry because I don’t like the idea of ​​you thinking that I think it’s bad that you have to be away from home. I’m so proud of you. You take care of me even when you’re far away, I love that. I love when you ask your mom to leave something I like to eat here and as you always take the time to spend hours talking to me like right now, I just genuinely miss you, Joey.”

He let his eyes fill with tears again, wishing he could touch your swollen face. Your crying was silent and somehow it hurt him even more. “I know I’m the perfect boyfriend.” He did the exaggeration of his feature that you adored. Soon, your laughter filled his ears and he felt a little better. “You can use the other shirts if you want, you can use them all actually, I love it when you wear them for so long to sleep that I can smell you on them.” You melted before his glowing eyes, properly lubricated with tears. You hugged the comforter as before, but this time looking more relieved. Your eyes already refusing to stay open, he knew you wanted to sleep but you didn't want to hang up. “I will always take care of you. I understand about you missing me, I do too. Being busy all the time and around the cast doesn’t make it any better. Today I passed by a cat themed cafe, like they literally had cats for adoption inside, the kind of place I would never stop, but it felt so like something you would love, and I know you would, that I walked in and I wish you were there with me. Most of the time I wish you were around before scene or somethin' or just as soon as it ends and have you jumping into my arms saying that it was the best you ever saw when you say it to all of my acting.”

“But they are!” You exclaimed, even though still quiet and not much energy left. “And you’re going to have to take me to that cafe, just like you have to take me to the themed hotel you mentioned last week.” You joked, feeling way more comfortable than at the beginning of the call that you felt like you were avoiding falling apart.

“No,” he shook his head, smiling wide, corners of his eyes crinkling and cute crooked teeth all showing up for you. “The hotel is for children, I didn’t even go in there, I just looked from the outside.”

“Okay, you don’t want to take me there.” You pouted.

It didn’t even look like it was just a video call anymore.

“Maybe when we have kids.”

A silence fell over the call, but it was comfortable. It was the second time he mentioned having children with you and just like the first time your belly was filled with butterflies. It felt good to know that he loved you too, so much that he thought about having babies with you.

“I can’t wait for that,” you whispered so softly you only knew he heard it when you saw his gaze light up. “I love you, Joseph.” You yawned, closing your eyes, your body feeling softer than usual.

“I love you more, puppy,” he straightened the laptop to get a better look at you, getting frustrated with the result that didn’t seem to change much. “You should sleep, you seem to need rest.” he said as you slowly looked at him.

“I still don’t want to have to hang up.” You sighed low, like a sly cat.

“Do you want me to keep the call running?” He asked as usual. You, due to the time zone, would wake up after him and he’d lose, or win, a few long minutes looking at your serene face and messy hair until you woke up and he’d pretend he never did it. Doing this had become a habit of yours, just like the times you woke up first and he knew you didn’t do much different by the way you hid your face in your hands while you denied it.

“Please, babe.” You said, happy that you would have his voice until you fell asleep, even if the emptiness returned in the morning knowing that he still wouldn’t be around to hug you and shower you with kisses. “Talk me to sleep.”

He laughed softly, making your heart warm. “Mum told me, that you will have lunch with her tomorrow…” He went on a talk about how his mom said she was excited because she liked having you around when he couldn’t be. She once told you that Joe always said he liked how you two got along, that she knew you were the one. She was the best, she swore she wouldn’t tell Joseph about what you both did together, which was clearly a lie. You loved every minute of it.

“She loves me, Joey. I think you have no choice but to be stuck with me.” Your voice was ragged from sleep. He laughed, muttered something you didn’t understand. Your mind dissolved into rambling words and all you remembered was keeping a smile on your face as he agreed.

You couldn’t wait to be back in his arms again.

[tsukishumai]

pairing: ushijima wakatoshi x gn!reader wc: 2.1k+ summary; impatience is definitely not a virtue, and just one look at Ushijima Wakatoshi, you knew that there’s no way you could have waited until you got home. warnings; MINORS DNI, nsfw, smut, oral m receiving, road head, alcohol consumption, slight voyeurism, the actions in this fic could cause serious injury pls do not imitate lmao 

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

Ushijima got the call at around two o’ clock in the morning.

The shrill ringing of his cellphone had abruptly yanked him from his admittedly shallow rest. The empty space beside him screams that he should answer, so he quickly grabs the phone and slides his finger across the screen.

“Hello?” His voice was still thick with sleep, and he rubbed at his eyes as he sat up. The sheets pooled around his waist and he shivered when the cold air hit his bare chest.

“Toshi!” Your voice blasts through the speaker, barely distinguishable from the heavy bass and chattering voices in the background. “You answered!”

“Are you alright?” were the first words that had croaked out from his throat, Ushijima already in the motion of putting on a pair of sweatpants and throwing on a shirt.

“Yess, ‘m alright, Toshi,” you spoke with an obvious slur, tripping over your words in very much the same way Ushijima imagines you tripping in your shoes, “But can you come pick me up??”

Ushijima’s keys were already in his hand, slamming the door behind him before he jumped into his car.

“I’m on my way.”

You had sent Ushijima your location hours ago, a habit that he had unintentionally drilled into you once you had started dating. He had never once stopped you from a night out with your friends, nor had he ever given you a hard time for getting drunk at a random bar on a Wednesday night.

But still, that didn’t mean he never worried, and this was the perfect caveat to satisfy all parties.

And it has been your saving grace time and time again, allowing Ushijima to simply check his phone whenever you called for him to retrieve you, and you were too drunk to remember where you were.

The lounge you were in tonight happened to be in downtown, just a thirty two minute drive from your shared home, but the empty streets allowed Ushijima to arrive in only twenty seven.

He rolls the car to a stop as he arrives at his destination, shifting the gear into park and turning on the hazard lights. He shoots you a quick text, and not five minutes later, you stumble out of the corner building, laughing at a joke one of your friends must have said.

You smile widely when you spot him, pointing excitedly at his car before bidding your friends farewell and running to open the passenger door.

“Toshi!” You practically screamed into his car, the volume of your voice echoing in the otherwise silent night air, “I can’t believe you came.”

“You called me,” he answered, “Of course I’d come.”

You drop yourself into the passenger seat disgracefully, shutting the door before reaching over the center console and throwing your arms around Ushijima’s neck. He pretends to flinch when you press a sloppy kiss on his cheek.

“Thank you,” you say when you pull away.

Ushijima smiles as he pats your head, then reaches over your lap to buckle your seatbelt in for you.

“Your friends don’t need a ride?” He asks.

You shake your head. “No, they’re going to another bar down the street.”

Ushijima tilts his head in confusion, “You didn’t want to go with them?”

“It’s late already,” you respond, watching Ushijima pull the car back out into the street, slowly starting the journey back home, “Besides, I missed you.”

He spares you a glance before reaching over and resting his hand on your thigh. His fingers instantly caress the bare skin, exposed by the outfit you had chosen to wear for your evening out. Your eyes trace the way his jawline clenched in tandem with when he squeezed you.

“I missed you too,” he replies

You lay your hand on top of his, playing with his fingers before moving them further up your thigh.

“No, Toshi, I missed you.”

Ushijima’s mouth felt dry at the insinuation in your tone. “We’ll be home soon.”

You lean over the center console once more to draw circles on his chest, a smug smile growing on your lips when you see his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down.

You cup the side of his face as you dip your head down to nuzzle in the crook of his neck.

Beneath your touch, Ushijima trembles as you slowly drag your tongue from his neck up to his ear, whispering, “What if I can’t wait until we get home?”

Ushijima audibly gulps as he turns down the street, nervously asking, “What do you mean?”

Your hand moves to trail down his chest, tracing his abs before you palm the bulging hard cock that rested between his thighs.

Ushijima fights a groan, slowing down his speed as he tries to regain his focus. He fidgets in his seat when you start to stroke the outline of his grey sweatpants, and he couldn’t be more thankful that there were hardly any other cars on the road.

“Y/N, what are you…”

“Is it alright, Toshi?” you whisper as you slip your hand beneath his waistband. Ushijima lets out a soft sigh when your fist begins to slowly pump the entirety of his length, and you smirk at how hard he was trying not to take his eyes off the road. “Can I…”

There was a part of Ushijima that knew this was a terrible idea. That he should pull your hands out of his pants and focus on getting the two of you home safely. But he was just a man, and even when he wasn’t under the influence of your skillful strokes, he could hardly ever tell you ‘No.’

He said nothing, and against his better judgment, he bucked his hips into your fist — a silent urge for you to contine.

Ushijima kept his attention laser focused on the stretch of highway in front of him as you made quick work of his length, pulling his waistband down until he sprung free, lightly slapping against his abs. You wet your lips as Ushijima lifts his arm, giving you access to lower your head onto his lap. The streetlamps that illuminated the roads had been your only source of light, and even in the dim lighting you could see beads of precum dripping down his tip.

Without thinking you dart your tongue out, tracing the underside of the head and running it along his slit. You could feel the slight quiver of Ushijima’s thighs as you closed your lips around his head, lightly lapping your tongue at the angry red tip until you’ve licked up every drop of his arousal.

Ushijima resisted the urge to roll his eyes to the back of his head as you moved your lips lower and lower down his hard cock, barely managing to take in half of him. Your hand wraps around the rest of his shaft, pumping in tandem with the way you bobbed your head up and down.

Lewd sounds bounced off the walls of his vehicle, moans escaping from your lips and spit dribbling down your chin as you took Ushijima in inch by inch. He sucks in a harsh breath through his teeth when your hand cups his balls, massaging them gently in your palm. He drops his head back onto the head rest when he feels your tongue swirl along the underside of his cock, hissing when you start to suck on it.

This time, Ushijima lets out a groan, gripping the back of your head as he softly bucked his hips into your mouth. He could feel every inch go past the soft caverns of your mouth, beads of sweat forming on his forehead as your silky throat massages the length of his cock.

“Fuck,” Ushijima whispers, hand gripping the steering wheel so tightly, his knuckles began to turn white. Ushijima’s labored breathing urges you to bob your head faster, tears in your eyes beginning to form as his thickness invades the back of your throat.

Just five more minutes until the two of you arrive home, Ushijima thinks as he rolls to a stop at a red light. He takes the moment of reprieve, allowing himself to squeeze his eyes shut for just a moment as he fights to keep his composure. He feels himself getting lost in how eagerly you take him all in, your hands grabbing at his thighs like they were the anchor that kept you on earth.

When Ushijima opens his eyes, his heart drops seeing a pair of headlights approaching in the rear view mirror.

His grip on the back of your head tightens, fingers tangling in your hair as he pushes to keep your head down.

“Stay there,” he whispers, grunting when you nodded your head on his dick.

The intruding car pulls up to a stop in the lane to Ushijima’s right, awkwardly positioned in clear view of his window.

The occupants of the vehicle had no idea of the events happening right beside them, unaware of the monster cock that was now obstructing your airways. You could feel Ushijima twitch each time relaxed your throat, taking him further down than he thought possible.

“That’s a good girl,” he murmured under his breath, moving his hand from the back of your head to wrap around your throat, “Keep that pretty little throat full, okay?”

You try to mumble an agreement, but it was difficult with the way he filled you completely.

The light had finally turned green, and Ushijima let the car beside pass before he lets his foot off the brakes.

As the car accelerates, you begin to suck harder, faster, throat constricting and relaxing around Ushijima’s cock, he had no idea where he was any longer.

You could feel him quivering beneath your touch, hips jutting in a broken pattern against the back of your throat. He lets out a strangled moan, and an unevenness begins to settle in his breathe.

“Baby, wait, I —“

Your hand pumps faster as you continue to massage his balls, swirling your tongue until you could feel his veins throbbing against the inside of your cheeks.

“I— I’m gonna —“

Ushijima lets out a low, deep groan as you feel spurts of thick, hot cum against the back of your throat. His hips begin to shake when you swallow his entire load, sucking at him until he was dry.

Ushijima’s arms fall down slack against his sides, his chest rising up and down as his heart races to catch his breath. His head lolls down to the side when you disconnect from his softening erection with a loud pop. You quickly sit up, grabbing a tissue from your purse and wiping the mess around your chin.

Ushijima sighs deeply, reaching forward to cup your face in his hands. He offers you a soft smile, before pulling you in for a gentle kiss.

You grin up at him when he pulls away, and you finally are able to take in your surroundings.

“Toshi, when did we pull into the driveway?” You ask.

He looks out of his car window confused. “I… don’t really remember.”

You giggle as you smack him on the chest, calling him ridiculous as he pulls his pants back up. He tells you to stay where you were, and quickly steps out of the car to run and open your car door.

You gratefully take the hand that he offered, supporting you up out of the passenger seat. He holds your hand until you get to the door, letting go only to turn the key into the lock.

Ushijima is quick to kick off his shoes before kneeling down on the floor to help you with the straps of your shoes. Your heart melts as you watch him perform these little gestures, small and silent ways to let you know he loves you.

He tosses your shoes to the side, and he looks up at you from his position.

You give him a lopsided grin. “Thank you, Toshi — hey!”

Suddenly, Ushijima leans forward and wraps an arm behind both of your legs. He held on tightly as he stood up, and you let out a whiny yelp when Ushijima threw you over his shoulder.

“Toshi! What are you — put me down!”

Ushijima ignored your protests, silently climbing up the stairs two at a time. Though, you had to admit the view of his ass looked almost better upside down.

“Ushijima Wakatoshi, if you don’t —“

But your words were cut off by the loud slam off Ushijima’s foot kicking the bedroom door open. Before you could make sense of what was happening, you were swiftly thrown onto the bed.

Your tongue laid heavy and dead in your mouth, lolling out the side as you watched Ushijima shut the door behind him. He turns to you with fire blazing in his eyes, and his muscles flexed in the shadows as he pulls his shirt above his head.

He throws the thin fabric to the side, not once taking his eyes off your body, deliciously splayed out against the mattress for him.

“You didn’t think you were the only one that gets to have fun tonight, did you?” He asks.

You could feel something tingling at the pit of your belly.

You were in for a long night.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

rbs appreciated <3

[legendary-69420]

Chapter 7: The Billionaire Revelation (Part 1)

(Racing Hearts : VOLUME 2)

Charles had been on cloud nine since their recent road trip and camping adventures. The growing bond between him and Mark made him feel lighter, more connected, and excited for what lay ahead. But what came next caught him entirely off guard. One afternoon, while sitting with his younger brother, Arthur, in the Ferrari garage, they casually chatted about the upcoming race when Arthur leaned over with a smirk. "You know, Charles, I always wondered why Mark seemed so comfortable in the spotlight," Arthur mused. Charles raised an eyebrow, curious. "What do you mean?" Arthur casually scrolled through his phone, chuckling. "You really don't know, do you?""Know what?" Charles asked, getting a little impatient now. Arthur flipped his phone around, showing Charles a high-profile article about Mark Spencer—the son of the Italian billionaire Alessandro and Isabella Spencer. Charles stared at the screen, utterly shocked. "Wait, what?" Charles blinked, staring at the headline. "Mark's the son of a billionaire!? THE Alessandro Spencer!?! How have I never heard of this?" Arthur grinned. "Dude, he's loaded. Like, beyond anything you'd imagine. Not to mention, he's famous outside of F1. He's been around celebrities for years. Look at this." Arthur scrolled further through Instagram, revealing pictures of Mark at elite parties, casually hanging out with international superstars. There were photos of him at glamorous galas, on yachts, and even attending exclusive fashion events. Charles shook his head, baffled. "This explains why he's always been so at ease in front of the cameras. And why those celebrities at the party already knew him. He was part of their world long before F1."

It all started to click into place for Charles—the ease with which Mark carried himself, his charm, and his way of brushing off the media frenzy like it was second nature. Mark wasn't just new to the racing world. He had already been living in a world of fame, wealth, and attention.

"Why didn't he ever mention any of this?" Charles muttered, scrolling through the photos in disbelief. "He just—acted so normal." Arthur shrugged. "Guess he didn't feel the need to." After some reflection, Charles decided he needed to understand Mark's world better. So, a few weeks later, they traveled to Italy, and Charles was about to meet Mark's family—on their turf.When they arrived at the Spencer family mansion, Charles was stunned. The estate was enormous—more like a palace than a house. There was a home theatre, a private bar, a jacuzzi, and a massive pool surrounded by perfectly manicured gardens. Every corner of the place screamed luxury. Mark, casually leading the way, looked back at Charles and grinned. "Yeah, I know. It's a bit much, but it's home." Before they could even reach the front door, an older gentleman greeted them with a warm smile. "Master Mark," he said with a slight bow, "your parents will be home soon. They're running a bit late." The man, who Mark introduced as Signore Lazzaro, had been with the family since Mark was born. "He's like Alfred to my Batman," Mark joked, patting Lazzaro on the back. The old man chuckled fondly. Mark's parents were strict, but not in the way Charles had expected. Alessandro Spencer arrived in a crisp suit, exuding a cold and calculated demeanor. His mother, Isabella, though more warm and welcoming, still had a regal air about her. After exchanging pleasantries, they all sat down in the grand living room. Mark received an urgent call from his team, and with an apologetic look, he excused himself from the room."Sorry, I've got to take this—urgent call. I'll be back in a bit," he said before leaving Charles alone with his parents. Now that they were alone, Alessandro's gaze fell on Charles, his piercing eyes studying him for a moment. Charles felt a bit nervous under the weight of that stare, but Isabella quickly eased the tension with a gentle smile.

"So, Charles, how long have you known Mark?" she asked softly, her voice filled with maternal warmth. "For about a year now," Charles replied, still a bit caught off guard by the opulence surrounding him. Alessandro cleared his throat, drawing Charles' attention back to him. "You seem close with him." Charles smiled nervously. "He's a great friend." Alessandro's expression remained stoic, but there was a slight twitch of amusement in his eyes. "Good. He could use a friend like you."After a moment of silence, Alessandro's tone softened, and he began talking about Mark's childhood. "You know, Charles, Mark wasn't always this confident. We put him in every possible class—piano, guitar, singing, cooking, you name it. He excelled at everything, yet he still surprised us when he chose racing." Isabella nodded, her gaze soft. "Yes, our son is full of surprises. But one thing you should know..." Charles felt the tension rise, sensing that they were about to share something important. Alessandro leaned forward slightly, his voice low and serious. "Mark... is adopted." Charles' eyes widened. He hadn't expected this revelation at all. "We've kept this from him all his life," Isabella added. "Not out of shame, of course, but out of love. We didn't want him to feel different, and we didn't think it was necessary to tell him yet."Alessandro gave a knowing glance toward Charles. "But something tells me he's already figured it out. He's smarter than he lets on." Charles sat there, absorbing everything. It was becoming clearer now. Mark's confidence, his hidden life, and the deep layers that made him who he was. His parents weren't cold or distant—they were simply protective. They had raised him in a world of wealth and status, but they also genuinely cared about his happiness, even if they didn't always show it openly. "Thank you for sharing this with me," Charles said quietly, his respect for Mark's family growing.Isabella smiled warmly. "We trust you, Charles. You're a good friend to him. And it seems that he's important to you, too." Charles nodded, feeling a deeper connection to Mark now. He had always seen glimpses of the complexities beneath Mark's surface, but now, he understood just how intricate his friend's life truly was. After a little while, Mark returned to the room, still his usual carefree self. Charles exchanged a glance with Alessandro and Isabella, who simply smiled knowingly. As they were about to leave, Mark turned to his parents with a grin. "By the way, I've known for years that I was adopted." Alessandro and Isabella looked shocked. "What!?!?!?" Mark laughed. "Come on, I'm not that clueless. I figured it out a long time ago. But it doesn't matter. I got dad's mind. As Adopted or not, I'm still your son." His parents stared at him for a moment before Alessandro broke into a rare smile. "You never fail to surprise us." As they got into the car to leave, Isabella turned to her husband. "He really is our son." ---

[youngbloodslut]

celebrity crush | 2/??

a/n: the first interview is mostly based off of dove cameron and ava max’s interviews with popbuzz

summary: actress! reader somehow manages to bring up her crush on calum hood in every interview

pairing(s): calum hood x reader, platonic! reader x tom holland

warning(s): swearing? slight mentions of kinks

“She’s at it again mate,” Ashton smirked as he carried his laptop over to Calum who was sat on the sofa. He flipped open the computer and hit play on y/n y/l/n’s newest interview.

“C’mon, I don’t wanna-” Calum rubbed his hand over is face and shook his head.

Ashton ignored him and turned up the volume to drown out his protest. “Shhh.. watch.”

“Hey guys, I’m y/n y/l/n and this is the Pop Buzz Tower of Truth.” You spoke as the title popped up on screen.

“I think I’m gonna end up tipping it before I can even get one block out,” You said as you tried to carefully pull of a wooden block. 

“That will never work,” Calum heard a voice from off camera say and recognized it as Tom Holland. He tried not to frown as you laughed and mocked him.

“Y’know what, we’re leaving that one.” You laughed, leaving the original block alone and easily pulling out another block.

“There we go. Okay, what was the last movie or tv show that make you cry? Dead Poets Society. I love Dead Poets Society so much and Tom had never seen it so we watched it after finishing yesterdays interviews.” You placed the block on top of the tower. “And he cried.”

The camera crew laughed as Tom shouted a, “Hey!”

“Tell us one thing about you that we don’t know. Um, this is hard because I’m always saying stuff that I shouldn’t be. Um, I’m an Oxford comma worshiper.” You said, unsure whether or not that’s interesting enough.

“Oxford comma?” A crew member behind the camera questioned.

“Yeah, y’know, the comma that comes before ‘and’ when making a list. I hate that people don’t use it because then I get all confused. Like if I were to write ‘Lizzie, Tom, and Robert are going to the party’ and I don’t add a comma before ‘and’ then it seems like Tom and Robert would be arriving at the party together. But some people who don’t use the Oxford comma could mean that all three people were showing up separately so I never know. Y’know what I mean?”

The camera crew were all silent after her rant and Calum chuckled a bit to himself. He thought it was cute that you were so passionate about the smallest things. Ashton looked over to him as Calum admired you through the screen. He wasn’t an idiot. He knew Calum secretly liked how much you talked about him.

“No,” Tom responded honestly

“Ugh,” You rolled your eyes dramatically and looked into the camera, “See, these are the type of guys you got to look out for: Un-grammarly men.” You joked.

“Un-grammarly isn’t a thing.” Tom laughed.

“Well if it were a thing, you’d be one.” You fired back at Tom.

“Anyway, who is your favorite artist right now? Um, probably Wallows, I love them and their music.”

“I was really expecting Calum Hood to be honest.” Tom shouted from across the room.

“Oh my god, I can’t believe I just forgot about him like that. I love you Calum Hood. I love 5sos.” You held up your hands into a heart shape and moved your hands from side to side. 

You then dropped them and grabbed another block. “Sorry, I keep forgetting that people are actually going to see these interviews. Like, he could literally see this. Dude, I hope he doesn’t.” You paused, “Oh god, do you think he knows about my crush on him?” You had been mentioning him for years and it had never once occurred to you that he could actually see these. 

Calum laughed at the irony of the situation. Here he was watching a video of you saying you hoped he’d never see said video.

“This is humiliating.” You mumbled though you didn’t seem to actually care, “Who was your first celebrity crush? Oh uh, definitely Andrew Garfield. I remember when I first watched the Social Network and I was like obsessed. My friend and I both watched it over 10 times within like two months. And then would continuously make Mark Zuckerberg jokes. But of course, Calum Hood now owns my heart.” You put the block on top of the tower. “I’m actually doing really good, I thought I’d knock it down by now.”

“Describe in detail the worst date you’ve ever been on. Okay so I was like fifteen right, and, well I’m not even sure if this counts as a date. I think he considered it a date so I guess it was but basically we were in the car, he was sixteen so he could drive. We were in the drive through, we had already ordered, and he started feeling around in is pockets and I was like oh god, cause I knew what was about to happen. He was like, ‘oh no i think i lost my wallet’, and I was like its fine I’ll pay. I really didn’t mind. I ended up paying, we got our drinks and without missing a beat, we hadn’t even pulled out of the drive through, he was like’oh here’s my wallet.’ I really didn’t mind paying for my coffee, I wouldn’t mind paying for both of our coffees. But him going out of his way to lie, and then not even lie well, was so irritating.” She placed the block on the top and picked up a new one.

“What is the most useless idem you’ve ever purchased? Um, I bought a seven foot giraffe while I saw drunk once.” The block was added to the top, the tower now taller than you. “He’s in my living room if you wanted to know.”

You grabbed the next block carelessly, immediately regretting it when the tower fell behind you, “Oh shit, well I guess we’re done then.” You said nonchalantly, looking at the blocks on the floor. “I don’t think I’ll be playing this again anytime soon. Love you guys,” You held up your hands, “Love you Calum Hood.” You winked before the outro began to play.

“She must really love you, Cal.” Ashton poked Calum’s cheek annoyingly, “She’s got no shame.”

Calum wouldn’t admit it, but as soon as he got home he looked you up again. He clicked on the same video Ashton showed him and scrolled through the comments. 

y/nscalumhoodkink: MOMOMOMOMOMOM

datemey/n: Queen of Jenga

ashtonfletchersbitch: Y/N LITERALLY IS ME

5esohes: no because y/n y/l/n and calum hood together is my kink

noemptywalletshere: not only does y/n own this fandom, but my ass too

He couldn’t help but laugh at the comments no matter how interesting they were. But something in the back of his head kept yelling at him. She doesn’t acting like you. Shes just likes your music, nothing more. He sighed and clicked out of the video and was about the close his laptop when his cursor handed on a video. 

Y/n Y/l/n foaming at the mouth while talking about Calum Hood for 5 minutes straight.

He clicked on it a little too quickly and waited for it too load. 

“Calum Hood choke me challenge.” You stuck out your tongue and threw up a peace sign with an innocent look plastered on here face. 

“Bro imagine if Calum Hood saw this?” “Oh he would definitely fall for you after this video”

The third thing to pop up was a tweet from 2015 just saying: #marrymecalumhood

“Calum Hood send me hand pics. This is a demand, not a request.”

Calum continued to watch the entire video. Normally, the thirsty comments would have made him uncomfortable, but them coming from you made his heart race and cheeks flush.

God, what was happening to him?

[13uswntimagines]

Love You or Lose You (Alpha Soran x Omega Reader)

Request: This is the first part to the Prequel for Playing with Fire. Its right after the 2016 Olympics, and R missed the PK instead of Christen. Things have been rough with her Alphas and she just needs a fresh Start. Barca might be the start she was after, but her mates might not like that too much... Especially when she leaves in the middle of the night. 

Basically 4000 words of Lindsey and Emily being idiots, R being sad and Preath and Kellex being worried. 

The air was heavy in the locker room, pressing into you like an anvil settled on your soul. You could remember a time when you had felt at home here. Like you belonged here.  

A time when Lindsey and Emily had actually loved you, and you didn’t feel like an unneeded (or wanted) burden on the national team (more like your family). 

You shook your head, tucking your frame tighter into the small locker that belonged to your most dominant alpha, pulling a leftover sweater tighter against your face. 

No. The locker that belonged to Lindsey. She wasn’t your alpha anymore, she had said so herself, but your inner omega still cried out for her and Emily nonetheless. A fight didn’t change the marks on your neck, or what your inner animal knew to be true. 

Yet it changed everything if the unbearable pain ripping through your chest was anything to go by. 

Another sob left your lips, muffled only slightly by the heavy material of Lindsey’s sweatshirt that smelled distinctly like both her and Emily. It did little to ease your instincts, but you would take whatever you could get right now. 

There was no reason to hold back your tears, there was no one else there to see them anyway. No one who would come looking for the source of the distressed pheromones you were emitting. No one to care that you were falling apart. It didn’t matter that you were all in the same city. 

They were all too busy trying to process their own issues from the loss. The loss you knew fell squarely on your shoulder. If only you had made that PK, none of this would have happened. 

You shuttered at the mix of emotions trickling down your mating bond. Lindsey’s anger and Emily’s clear frustration. You gulped pushing against their emotions with an overwhelming wave of your own. You willed as much calm as you could muster down the bond-forming a little barrier between your omega and their alphas, and shoved your own despair as far away from it as you could. 

The block wouldn’t hold forever, but it would do the job for now. Bonds were a bitch to shut down completely, and a permanent block was going to have to be something you figured out later. 

Your inner omega growled, digging her claws into your brain. While the human side of your head got why you were doing this, your animal side was loath to deny your alphas the privilege of your deepest emotions. Especially when she thought they could fix it if they knew. 

You let out a little whimper at the sound of the door, tucking yourself tighter into a ball as footsteps approached.

“Hey, Kid just thought I’d let you know your Uber is here,” 

You peeked out at the kind voice, semi soothing scent, and worried eyes of the athletic. You tried to smile at the woman, but you knew she wasn’t fooled. She knew you too well for that. 

“Thanks Bailey,” You sniffled, easing into a sitting position and turning to fully face the woman, and running a hand through your wild hair (only making it messier than it was before). 

“I’m gonna miss you kid,” She said, and you could tell that she wanted to say more. But both of you knew it wouldn’t change anything. The deal was done and you couldn’t find it within yourself to regret it. 

“I’m gonna miss you too, but you know I can’t stay,” 

She nodded, she would have left too if she was in your shoes. Barça was making lemonade out of rotten lemons. 

You took another gulping breath into Lindsey’s sweatshirt before shoving it into your backpack, and standing. Your eyes strayed towards the other lockers around you, landing on several items of clothing left by your friends. 

“Doesn’t mean I have to like it,” She grumbled under her breath as she headed towards the door. 

“No, it doesn’t,” You breathed out, heading towards the various lockers instead of the door. 

Leaving here would be like leaving a part of your soul behind. Your fingers traced over the wooden panels that outlined each locker. You only paused twice. Once outside Emily’s locker to steal a coveted Virginia soccer t-shirt and again at Tobin’s taking a re-inc sweater that you knew Christen wore more than Tobin and a LFG t-shirt that smelled distinctly like Kellex. 

The quad (as the national team called them) were your team moms, and their scents all comforted you. They would make whatever apartment you ended up in in Barça feel like home. 

Bailey raised her eyebrow at you as you stuffed the items into your backpack. You just shrugged. “they won’t miss them anyway,” 

It was true, and even if it wasn’t you were sure Chris would still back you up when she found out exactly why you left. 

You paused at the door, taking one last glance around the room, looking for some sign to stay. You rubbed your chest when another wave of negative emotions from your mates passed through your bond. 

You cleared your throat and shook your head at Bailey’s raised eyebrows. The weight in your chest told you that you were making exactly the right move. 

She sighed, leading you towards the loading bay where your Uber was waiting. 

“Thank you… for everything,” You said softly, pulling the older omega into a tight hug. She knew you meant more than walking you to the car park. She was there for you when no one else was, and you would be eternally grateful for all she had done for you. 

She held you for a long moment, rocking you side to side before pulling back to hold you at arm's length. “You got it, kid. Be safe and text me when you land alright?” 

You gave her a nod and a tight smile. “Look after them?” 

She rolled her eyes. If those two idiots had done anything even close to what they had done to you to her, she wouldn’t have been nearly as forgiving as you seemed to be. 

Then again you were also moving to Spain. 

“Of course,” She said, shoeing you towards the car. 

She would make sure they were very informed on how you were doing. 

****

Christen knew that there was something wrong. Very wrong. Before her phone even dinged. She could feel it in her bond with you. The torrent of emotions that had suddenly shifted into a calm she had never felt from you before. 

The bond the two of you shared was a special one, forged the moment she had laid eyes on you (even more special than the one you shared with her mates). The second your small, skittish form had entered the dining hall (tucked carefully under Emily's arm) her omega had claimed you as its pup, and you latched onto her quiet calm nature without a second thought. 

She knew you almost as well as your mates knew you, and the bond you shared (while different) was nearly as strong. And therefore your bond with the rest of the quad was also relatively strong. 

For an unknown reason, it was keeping her awake. It was like her omega was waiting for a sign, something to tell her that you were safe and sound. 

She practically jumped out of her skin at the ding of her phone, fumbling to unlock the screen and find the message you had sent her. 

She froze when her alpha shifted against her, inadvertently jostling the two omega’s attached to her other side. 

“Wha- appened?” Tobin mumbled, nuzzling into her stomach. Christen sighed at the wave of soothing scents that Tobin let off, trying to calm her nerves even in sleep. 

“Shh, baby bear is texting me. Go back to sleep,” Christen said, scratching the alphas scalp gently with one hand and pulling up the text with the other. 

She blinked at the bright screen once, twice, three times. 

It was five words, cold and emotionless. It reminded her of the call marines made to their parents when they went to boot camp. 

Landed in Spain. I’m fine. 

She couldn’t help her sharp intake of breath at the singular line, or the anxiety that suddenly engulfed her heart (immediately jolting all 3 of her mates awake). 

Before she could even blink she was moved onto Tobin’s lap, and Alex and Kelley cuddled tightly into either side of her. She could feel their concern flowing down their bond, and their efforts to comfort even though they had no idea what had caused such a strong response. 

“What’s up with baby bear?” Tobin said, gently rocking from side to side. 

Christen’s mouth opened and closed several times as she tried to parse out what emotions were hers, what emotions were coming from her mating bond, and the irritating calm that was coming from her bond with you. 

“I…-I don’t,” She stuttered, unable to skate the feeling that there was something very bad behind the steadfast wall you had thrown up in your bond. 

“Give me that,” Kelley half growled, pulling the phone out from Christen’s loose grip. 

She didn’t like to be woken up in the middle of the night, and she would kill your mates if you were texting Christen because of something stupid they did. You had sent them way too many texts like that already if she was honest.

“What the fuck?” She breathed out when her eyes landed on the words. This was so much worse than Soran being dumbasses. 

“What?” Alex asked, yanking the phone away from Kelley. 

Be nice,” Tobin chastised lightly, leaning over to read the words that had sent her most dominant omega mate into a tailspin. 

She frowned at the bright screen, trying to remember the last time the two of you had really talked. Had you mentioned moving to Spain in passing? Had she just blown it off? 

A charged silence hung between them. They all knew you were taking the loss hard, and that you and your mates were struggling to work your way through the slew of emotions that came with it. But they never imagined it would come to this. That you would literally flee the country. 

“This is a joke right?” Kelley asked, her voice cracking. 

“It’s gotta be,” Alex mumbled in disbelief. You were her cuddle buddy, her baby bear. You couldn’t have left the country without saying goodbye first. 

“I’m going to find out,” Christen said finally, taking back her phone. 

She bit her lip, pressing your contact picture and holding the phone to her ear. It rang once and then went voicemail. She frowned, shaking her head at her mates, ending the call. Maybe you accidentally pressed the wrong button. 

She pressed your contact photo a second time. 

Again it rang once and went to voicemail. It definitely wasn’t a coincidence this time, and she would bet anything that the boring automated greeting that came on instead of your goofy one wasn’t a coincidence either. 

She sighed, waiting for the beep. “Hey kiddo, um I got your text and I thought we could have a check-in maybe? Call me back when you can,” She paused, unsure of how to finish. She didn’t think anything she said would ease the ache in her chest. “we love you,” 

“Call Lindsey,” Tobin said firmly, an order lurking just below the words. If you weren’t going to give them answers, then your alphas better be ready to explain what the fuck was going on. 

*****

Lindsey didn’t quite know what she expected when she picked up the phone, but it wasn’t a very annoyed Christen Press on the other side. 

Well, maybe she expected it a little bit (she knew you would go to the quad after the argument. You always went to the quad), but she never imagined the words that would come out of your team mom’s mouth. 

“Whoa, slow down. She said she’s where?” Lindsey said, sitting up off of Emily’s shoulder where she had been leaning. 

“Spain, she said she landed in Spain,” Emily could barely make out Christen’s worried voice through the phone over Lindsey’s low growl. 

“There’s no way!” The more dominant alpha barked, baring her teeth just slightly. 

Maybe she had said some things she shouldn’t have, but you wouldn’t just run off to another country without telling them. She pushed down her hurt and settled for frustration instead. 

Emily scooched away from Lindsey slightly, rubbing her ear. “Babe, if you’re going to be this loud at 3 am, at least turn on speakerphone.” She felt odd, her bond unusually unbalanced. She could feel the torrent of emotions running through Lindsey, but your side of the bond was silent. It had never been silent before. 

The two of you had known each other since you were in diapers, and your bond reflected that. She should have felt something. While you weren’t always outwardly expressive, you felt everything deeply, and vividly. You were the fire to Lindsey’s flood, and for your usual smoldering flame of emotions to just be snuffed out felt wrong.  

The two alphas shared a look before Lindsey gave in and gave a short nod, pressing the little button. Emily had just as much a right to know what was happening as she did, but she still didn’t like being ordered around. 

“You’re on speaker Chris,” Lindsey grumbled. She wrapped an arm around Emily and pulled her closer.

 “What did you two idiots do to our baby bear?” Christen’s voice came out in a growl, the sound low and dangerous. 

Lindsey stiffened, her alpha bristling more than it normally would at the tone. “We didn’t do anything.” 

Emily nuzzled into her neck, trying to help her settle the mix of anger, pain and shock flowing through their bond. Just because she couldn’t feel you, didn’t mean that you couldn’t feel them. 

You were not some innocent party here. Lindsey hadn’t meant all the things she said, but then you had said some pretty hurtful things too. 

Tobin’s voice through the phone was low and clear, holding an air of dominance she rarely let out. “Watch who you’re growling at.” 

Lindsey gulped. She was never very good at controlling her emotions, especially when things went wrong. It was easier to respond with anger than to admit she was vulnerable sometimes. But she really didn’t want to have a fight with Tobin, not when they both knew she would lose.  

“And don’t give us that bullshit!” Both alphas winced at Kelley’s tone. The Omega had the parental tone of disapproval down to an art. She could have been one of their parents, scolding their irresponsibility for mating you before any of you were older than 21 (Emily’s mom had been angry enough to make up for your parents’ lack of care). Emily was sure her mother had used the exact same tone. 

“We had a fight,” Emily sighed, leaning deeper into Lindsey. It was more than a fight. It was an explosion of stubborn communication that had ended in you walking out. 

“A stupid fight. We’ll call her and have it all patched up by tomorrow,” Lindsey added, pinching the bridge of her nose. Why were omegas so frustrating? 

“She left the fucking country. I don’t think getting her back is going to be so easy,” Alex said, and both women could practically hear her eye roll. 

All six of them knew how stubborn you were, and getting you to listen was going to be far from a cakewalk. 

Lindsey huffed. “Camp is in like 2 days. If worst comes to worst, we’ll just talk to her there.” If you wouldn’t answer their phone calls, then they would just corner you at camp. You weren’t good at maintaining the silent treatment when they were both in front of you. And Lindsey still wasn’t convinced this wasn't more than an overblown tantrum. 

“She put a block in our bond Linds,” Christen said sternly, trying to break through the more dominant alphas shell. 

Sure the three of you had had arguments before, but whatever this was, it was fundamentally different. 

Lindsey frowned. You would never do that to Christen. The two of you were too close for that. At least that’s what she thought. 

“We’ll get to the bottom of it. We promise,” Emily said softly, already pulling out her phone. Now hopefully she would be able to get you to answer on the other side. 

“Good luck, you’re going to need it,” Tobin grumbled, hanging up. 

If those two idiots didn’t fix it, she was going to let Kelley unleash her wrath on them. 

Emily bit her lip as she pressed your contact picture (a photo of the two of you with bright 4-year-old smiles covered in brownie batter). It rang 4 times before going to voicemail. 

Emily could imagine you staring at the screen, debating on whether or not you should answer. It hurt a little that you had declined instead. 

She swallowed down her tears, glancing sideways at her still frozen mate. 

“Hey babe, um I know we’re not really talking right now, but um. Christen called and we’re worried. Please call me or Linds back,” she worried her bottom lip, wondering if she should add more, but the time ran out before she could. 

“Damn it,” she huffed, tossing her phone onto the nightstand. She hadn’t told you she loved you. 

Lindsey smiled sadly at her, rubbing her back soothingly, and pulling out her own phone. 

Her thumb hovered over a photo of the two of you cuddled up in one of your famous nests. She smiled wistfully down at it. How had this gotten out of hand so quickly? 

She pressed the button, holding the phone up to her ear. It didn’t even ring before it went to the robotic voicemail. What happened to the one that had you giggling because they wouldn’t stop kissing your neck? 

She didn’t have time to think it through before the beep sounded. She cleared her throat. 

“Hey, um I heard you were in Spain. What’s that about? Call me back,” she too tossed her phone down. 

“I can’t feel her,” Emily mumbled after a few minutes. Lindsey sighed. 

She closed her eyes tightly with a sigh and began to feel for your presence in the bond. If you weren’t going to answer them, then she was going to make sure you knew how unhappy with this situation she was. 

Her eyebrows furrowed when she was met with a wall of unsteady calm. It was like it was pulsing like your inner omega was pacing behind it trying to get through. She focused on the wall you had created and gave it a little push. 

She smirked when it bent a little bit to her will. “I think I got it,” 

She pushed back harder, the wall you creating molding around her alpha as she tried to reach your omega. She was almost there, she could almost touch your omega. One last push was all she needed. 

But just as she went to give it, a blast of calm shoved her backward. 

Her eyes blinked open at the ping of her phone and she scrambled to pick up the device. 

It was two words. No caps, no punctuation. A simple “fuck off” that they could practically hear reverberating in their heads. 

“What do we do now?” Emily asked softly. 

Lindsy’s smirk widened. 

“We call her until she answers us again.”