#I’m not here often and I don’t feel like scrolling you can tag me in things if you want it would help or use my tag for your content 💕

[spencerreidenjoyer]

welcome home | spencer reid x reader

word count: 2.2k, rating: 18+/explicit

warning/tags: smut and fluff, vaginal fingering, cunnilingus, munch!spencer reid, established relationship

a/n: hello! this is my first spencer/criminal minds fic and am new to posting fic to tumblr!! i wrote this in 2 hours in a frenzy lol. please let me know if u like this, enjoy!

You wake when the bedroom door creaks open. Spencer’s been meaning to get it fixed, but he’s been away so often recently.

A dark figure in the doorway startles you as you blink, your eyes adjusting to the darkness, and you reach for your phone as you sit up but a familiar voice soothes any of your anxieties.

“Hey,” Spencer says quietly. “I’m sorry I woke you.”

“No, it’s okay,” you answer, even though Spencer coming in most definitely woke you up. “Hey. Welcome home.”

Spencer walks over to your side of the bed, turning the lamp on the bedside table on. The gentle, yellow glow fills the room. You see how sweetly Spencer is looking at you. You smile up at him, and Spencer leans in to kiss you. He tastes like coffee.

“Told you not to drink coffee so late,” you chastise playfully. “You always have trouble falling asleep when you do.”

“Emily made me a cup on our way back from New York, I couldn’t say no,” Spencer shrugs, smiling. 

You shake your head, pulling the knot of his tie loose. 

“Go take a shower before you come to bed, baby,” you say, patting his cheek. “I’ve been missing cuddling my boyfriend to sleep.”

“Don’t wait up. Get some more rest, Y/N,” Spencer hums, before he turns around and enters the bathroom. 

You can’t fall back asleep, not just yet. You decide to scroll mindlessly on your phone while the sound of the shower running provides some ambient noise. You hear Spencer’s not-so-in-tune humming over the water, and it makes you smile to yourself.

Spencer always scolds you for taking too long in the shower. Says it’s a waste of water. You often suggest you should shower together, leaving Spencer a bumbling, red-faced mess. It’s cute. 

It doesn’t take long for him to step out of the shower, towel-drying his hair. You turn to face him to make a cheeky comment, but all you see is a towel wrapped around his waist and water dripping down his torso, tanned skin still wet. Your lips parted still, you look up and meet his eyes. Spencer quirks an eyebrow, curious. 

You swallow, attempting to make a smooth comeback. “Couldn’t have towelled yourself off in there?”

Spencer chuckles, “Didn’t bring a change of clothes in. Thought I might as well change out here.”

You feel your cheeks heat, but you muster up some confidence to say, “Forget the clothes.”

“What?” Spencer asks. You can only focus on the veins in his forearms, the bob of his Adam’s apple. 

“I said forget the clothes. Come here,” you repeat, and Spencer’s eyes widen. He approaches you, almost nervous, as if you haven’t been dating for a year. Awkwardly, he stands by the bed, and you pull him down towards you with the towel he’s left slung around his shoulders. He catches himself, hands planted next to either side of your head. His hair, still damp, falls into his face. He looks so handsome like this. You lean up to kiss him.

Spencer makes a surprised little noise, before his hand moves to cup your face as he kisses you. He kneels on the mattress for support so his other hand can trace your body, feeling you up as you are with him, hands reaching for his biceps, his lithe body, his toned stomach. 

You feel breathless as you whisper, “I missed you, Spencer.”

“I missed you too,” Spencer exhales, eyes gentle and warm as he looks down at you. 

“Kiss me some more,” you coax. 

Spencer grins. “Gladly.”

Spencer kisses you, desperation in every move he makes. You run your hand through his hair. Messy as it air-dries, but that’s just another thing you like about him. You feel him slide his hand up your sleep shirt – well, it’s his shirt, but he no longer says anything about you stealing his clothes – and it sends a shudder down your spine. His hand is calloused, rough, but touches you with a sweet gentleness that makes you swoon. His hand reaches your breast, cups it, squeezes like he needs to get his fill. 

“Spencer,” you gasp, as you run your hand down his body, reaching where his towel is tucked in so that it stays up. Your hand nudges his hardening cock, and you smile. “Someone’s already hot and bothered, huh?”

Spencer shakes his head, chuckling. “As if you didn’t start this.”

“Oh, come on, baby,” you coo. “I think it’s cute. You want me so bad.”

“I do,” He answers rather earnestly. “I’ve been gone for the better part of this week. Of course I want you.”

“And I’ll give it to you,” you answer, undoing the towel and letting it fall around Spencer’s knees. Your hand wraps around Spencer, and he moans at the contact, at the pressure. 

“Shit,” Spencer groans, head falling forward as he loses himself in the pleasure of your hand. His brows are furrowed slightly but he’s leaking, and you just want him inside you already. You kiss his cheek, and he turns his head to meet your lips instead. His lips are soft, a little chapped, but Spencer’s never been diligent with the lip balm you gave him. You’ll kiss him regardless, chapped lips and all. 

“I want you, Spencer,” you sigh. “Please.”

“I know,” Spencer says, and he reaches for your lower half. “How- How did I not realise you weren’t wearing shorts?”

You smirk, only hiding your fluster when you take off your shirt and toss it onto the floor. “Oh, Mr. Respectful Boyfriend over here doesn’t realise his girlfriend is half-naked. Shocker.”

“Hey, I am respectful!” Spencer retaliates, while trying very hard not to ogle your tits, which you promptly counter by squeezing his cock. He squeaks. You laugh, as he apologises and moves to dip his thumbs in the waistband of your panties. He looks at you. 

“Take them off already, Spencer,” you say. He does, pulling your underwear off with a reverence he’s always given you when you’re in bed together. You lift your hips so he can slide them off. You expect Spencer to come back up, but he instead slides in between your spread legs. 

His hand is gentle on your thigh, and his thumb rubs at the crease between your thigh and your cunt. You feel his breath on you, his face lowering towards your heat but his eyes solely meeting yours. “Let me take care of you.”

“Yeah?” you say, feeling breathless already. “I thought- I thought I was supposed to make you feel good, since you missed me.”

“You do make me feel good. Even like this.” Spencer says, matter-of-factly. “Especially like this.”

“It’s hot that you like getting me off,” you say. You can’t help the smile that forms on your face, as Spencer buries his face between your legs. 

You feel the little bit of stubble on Spencer’s chin rubbing at your thighs, and his insistent tongue that slowly coaxes you open. It’s wet and slick and you feel so good, as his tongue circles your clit. The way he’s eating you out is like a man starved, as he holds your legs apart, drinking from you like he’s running out of water. The pleasure makes your head spin, makes your toes curl, as adrenaline drums in your veins and makes the tips of your fingers (that are buried in Spencer’s hair) tingle. You hold him down against you, as if you want him impossibly closer, as if the pleasure he’s giving you will increase tenfold if you do. You feel him moan against you, the vibrations only making you feel better. 

“Spencer,” you exhale shakily, “You need to fuck me, right now.”

He pulls away slightly, and you expect the loss of warmth all at once, but Spencer’s slipped the tips of two fingers into you, and he fills you up just like that alongside his tongue. He spreads them to scissor you open, tongue slid in between them perfectly. You cry out as he fucks you with his stupidly long fingers, feeling crazy good when he hits the spots deep inside you that you can only reach on a good day. 

You writhe on the bed, the bed you share, and Spencer finally comes up for air. “That’s totally what you meant, right?”

You glare at Spencer. “I’m going to kill you.”

“You won’t,” Spencer says with a smirk. He pulls his fingers out of you, sits back up so he’s kneeling between your legs. You watch Spencer wrap his fingers around himself, sticky with your slick, as he works himself up. Playfully, he mocks, “You want me so bad.”

You gasp as he presses the tip of his cock to your hole, wet and sticky and leaking from the number Spencer’s already done on you. He’s sweet as he presses inside, doesn’t tease but instead gives you exactly what you want.

Spencer feels like he was made for you, fitting inside you perfectly. You sigh as he presses into you, all the way to the hilt. When you look up at him, it’s like he can barely keep it together. His face is scrunched up and a little flushed, and you just want to kiss him. 

You reach up to pull him closer by the nape of his neck. He can clearly tell what you plan to do, so he says, “I taste like you.”

You smile up lazily at him. “I know. I think that’s really fucking hot.”

He leans in to kiss you, full of heat, but he’s still extremely sweet about it. His chin is sticky, but you couldn’t care less. He holds you so softly, but wherever his hands touch your skin – your stomach, your thighs, your face – it feels so hot, burning with his desire.

You clench around him on purpose when he breaks away from kissing you, and he curses under his breath. “Jesus Christ. The things you do to me.”

“Yeah?” You grin. “Show me.”

Spencer pulls out before rocking his hips, pushing himself into you, and you moan. His rhythm has gotten better since you and Spencer started sleeping together, better at keeping his pace even and steady to get you to your orgasm. He used to be a bumbling (but adorable) mess, close to virginal and would blow his load just after a few minutes. You like to think you helped him improve, but you definitely don’t want to see him use these skills with anyone else. 

He holds your leg up, allowing him to fuck you even deeper. You feel every inch of Spencer inside of you, as he slides in and out, repeat. He’s learned well, just how to fuck you. Being a genius definitely has its perks, with him learning so quickly, knowing exactly what makes you tick.

His other hand reaches down to toy with your clit, and you shudder. “Spencer… Feels so good, baby.”

“Yeah?” Spencer responds, sounding delighted to hear your glowing review. “Are you gonna…”

“I’m close,” you sigh. “God, you feel so fucking good.”

“Fuck,” Spencer curses, seemingly out of nowhere, but you know by now that it turns him on like crazy. His need for praise always had you curious, and using it in bed just makes you feel all the more powerful. He clears his throat, continuing, “You’re- So tight, so warm. You feel really good.”

Spencer’s been trying to… talk more, during sex, knowing how much you like it. He’s remembered the way you talk to him when you’re sleeping together, and he’s done well parroting it back to you. It’s hot, how eager he is to please. 

“I’m gonna cum, baby,” you say, breathless. “Make me cum, Spencer.”

He leans in to press his lips to yours again, driving his hips into you at a punishing pace, and you’re gushing as he flicks at your clit in all the right ways. You moan as your orgasm washes over you, electrifies you, till every bone in your body feels like jelly. He lets out a whimper as his hips stutter, emptying inside of you. His warmth floods into you, and you feel a strange sense of pride with it. 

“Ugh, you’re so hot,” you groan, while Spencer presses one last kiss to your cheek before he slumps down on top of you. “And heavy.”

“I love you,” Spencer says, awfully serious. “Thank you.”

“Why are you thanking me, Spencer?” You chuckle. Spencer lifts his head to look at you. You stroke his cheek gently. 

“For letting me make you feel good, I suppose,” Spencer says. “Orgasms are often good for stress relief.”

“For me or for you?” You grin. 

“Both of us?” Spencer suggests. You nod in agreement. 

You sit in the comfortable silence between you and Spencer as you cuddle with him on top of you, only feeling sticky once the post-orgasm high has worn off. “So, wanna shower together?”

“Oh my God,” Spencer squeaks, sounding positively scandalised.

You laugh. “Oh, please. As if you didn’t cum inside of me just minutes ago.”

Spencer makes a comically distressed noise. “Well, when you put it like that!”

He gets up off of you, like he’s afraid of offending you, but you just take his hand as you stand up. You see the way his eyes rake over your naked body. It feels good. You kiss the top of his hand and smile at him. “Nothing to be scared of, Spencer. Come on.”

[navyiera]

No One Noticed.

Caitlyn Kiramman x Fem!Reader

tags; angst, wlw, established relationship, caitlyn being dry as fuck.

a/n; inspired by 'no one noticed' by the marias. (i love them)

You woke up as Y/N today. Or maybe you’ve always been Y/N, but it didn’t feel like it lately. The clock on your phone read 3:42 AM, the glowing digits mocking you in the darkness of your room. Your blanket was wrapped around you like a cocoon, but it did nothing to stop the chill that settled deep in your chest.

Your laptop sat open on the desk across the room, the same empty chat box staring back at you from last night.

Maybe you lost your mind.

The thought wasn’t new. It came around often, like an old friend who overstayed their welcome. Days blurred into each other now, but tonight—tonight felt heavier. Or maybe it always felt this way at this hour.

You sat up, your fingers hesitating before you reached for your phone. You didn’t have to scroll far before you saw her name. Caitlyn. You stared at the letters longer than you’d like to admit, debating whether to text her.

It had been weeks since she called first. Months since you saw her in person. Yet here you were, unable to stop yourself from wanting her. Or at least wanting the version of her that used to answer quickly, who laughed easily, who didn’t feel so far away even when you were in the same room.

Maybe she was still that person. Maybe you were the one who’d changed.

The message you typed was simple. “Are you awake?”

Three dots appeared. Your heart jumped. Then they disappeared.

You tried not to care.

But then her reply came through: “Yeah."

You hesitated before typing: “Can I call?”

Another pause. You hated that your chest felt tight, like this mattered more than it should. Then: “Sure.”

You didn’t let yourself think. You hit the video call button, and when her face filled the screen, something in you eased.

“Caitlyn.” Her name came out like a sigh.

She was sitting in the dark, her face lit only by the glow of her screen. Her hair was tied up messily, and she was wearing that oversized hoodie you’d seen her in a hundred times. The one you’d always thought looked better on her than it would on anyone else.

“Y/N,” she said, and her voice was low, familiar, but there was something distant in it.

“You look tired,” you said, a poor attempt at conversation.

“I am.”

“Then why are you awake?”

She shrugged. “Why are you?”

You wanted to tell her the truth. That you couldn’t stop thinking about how she didn’t call anymore, how she felt like a ghost haunting the edges of your life. But instead, you said, “Couldn’t sleep.”

She nodded like she understood. Maybe she did.

The silence between you stretched, the hum of your laptop the only sound in the room. You thought about ending the call, about sparing yourself the ache of wanting more from her than she seemed willing to give. But then she spoke.

“You’ve been quiet lately.”

You laughed softly, bitterly. “You’d know all about that.”

Her expression flickered, something like guilt crossing her features, but it was gone too quickly for you to hold onto.

“I’m here now,” she said, her voice softer.

You didn’t know what to say to that. So you just looked at her, memorizing the curve of her jaw, the way her fingers rested against her lips.

“Y/N?” she said after a while, and the way she said your name made your chest ache.

“Yeah?”

“I miss you.”

Your breath caught. “Then why do you keep pulling away?”

She looked down, her hair falling into her face. “It’s not you.”

“It feels like me.”

“It’s not.” She looked up then, her eyes meeting yours through the screen. “I don’t know how to… stay, I guess.”

“Try.” The word came out sharper than you intended, but you didn’t take it back. “Just try.”

She didn’t answer, and the silence felt heavier this time.

“I’m tired, Y/N,” she said finally.

“Of me?”

“No.” She sighed, running a hand through her hair. “Of everything.”

You didn’t know how to fix that. You didn’t know how to fix her. But God, you wanted to.

“Caitlyn.” Her name felt like a prayer on your lips. “I’m tired too.”

For a moment, you thought she might cry. But she didn’t. She just looked at you, her expression unreadable.

“You don’t have to do this alone,” you said, echoing words she’d once told you.

She smiled faintly, but it didn’t reach her eyes. “You don’t either.”

You wanted to believe her. But when the call ended and her face disappeared from your screen, the ache in your chest didn’t go away.

You stared at the blank chat box, the cursor blinking like it was waiting for you to say something. But there was nothing left to say.

Maybe you’d lost your mind.

No one noticed.

No one but her.

And that made it all the worse.

[erwinsvow]

𝐫𝐜 - 𝟏:𝟒𝟓𝐩𝐦

“i told ya to stay at home,” rafe says, fingers gripping the steering wheel of his truck tightly, knuckles turning white before your eyes. you don’t look up at him—your moody gaze focusing out of the window instead, staring at the trees and the pavement instead of your boyfriend.

maybe you shouldn’t have complained so much. you know he’s right, because after all, you had begged to tag along with him for the day. normally rafe can hold his own—can refuse and let you down easy with a promise to come back later and spend the rest of the day doing whatever you want, which is more often than not just crashing at tannyhill and watching a movie. you inevitably fall asleep and stay the night, just like what had happened last night. 

and then this morning, clad just in rafe’s button-up and some socks, you pad up to him and look at him sweetly.

“no, no, you’re jus’ gonna start complainin’ the second you get bored-” 

“i won’t! no complaints here, none,” you had insisted, giving him your best pout and puppy eyes. 

“i have real shit to get done today, kid, important business-”

“i won’t say anything! you won’t even know i’m there, rafe-”

rafe had given in eventually—squeezing your cheeks together with his hand before you got in the passenger seat of his car, after opening the door for you.

“when you start complainin’, i’m gonna make you regret it. hm?” you had squeaked out an agreeing noise, quickly following up with a promise to stay quiet before climbing into your seat.

that had been hours ago. in that time, rafe had stopped at several houses, gone inside and spent time talking to other people—some you recognized, others not so much—and ended up here, with you waiting, your feet on his dash while he was inside with barry. the minutes were dragging into hours at this point, your entire body feeling tired and achy from the position. the air in the car felt a little suffocating and paired with the heat of the sun pouring through the windows, nothing you could do would make you feel comfortable.

rafe’s one rule had been not to get out of the car while he was inside. in your attempt to follow his instructions, you felt yourself getting more and more frustrated, a certain crankiness bubbling up inside you, making one of its rare appearances. 

you tried to scroll through your phone and play music—which failed immediately since there was no service out here. you tried to eat the candy you kept in his glovebox, but it was melted beyond the point of remaining edible. you tried, you really did, but just like rafe had predicted, you started complaining the second he got back in the truck.

“you think, what? that i say that shit for me? no, kid, i’m saying it for you, ‘cause i know you get fed up in the car when i’m fuckin’ busy tryna make some money, being fuckin’ proactive for us-”

“but i-”

“no excuses. i told you to stay home. you gonna get an attitude with me? huh?” 

“you’re not even-”

“shoulda tied your ass to the bed. that’s what i’ll do next time.”

it doesn’t take much longer for the tears to come to the surface, your face falling into that sad look that makes him mad at himself for even ever yelling at you. you cry silently like that until he parks at tannyhill, and when he looks at you, regret washes over him. your pretty makeup all messed up, body heaving with sobs, staring down at your feet because you felt too ashamed to look him in the eyes.

“hey, hey,” he starts, a hand resting on your shoulder to get your attention. it moves deftly to your chin, titling your pretty, teary face up at him. “c’mon, don’t cry. it’s nothin’.” 

“you got mad,” you say, voice broken up with a sob, blubbering on. “i’m sorry, i am. i just hate being all alone here without you, it’s the worst-” 

“come on, kid.”

“jus’ wanted to hang out with you,” you sniffle. he runs a hand through his hair. he needs to get better at not getting frustrated with you just because he’s not used to your affection.

“i know, baby. we’re home now so get inside, hm?” you comply with his instructions, walking into tannyhill and heading towards the couch in the living room, like you always do when the two of you curl up to watch a movie.

“where you goin'?” he calls after you. you stop in your track, turning around to face rafe.

“i thought we’re hanging out? the living room?”

“and i said this morning that i would make you regret complainin’. so get your ass upstairs first, now.”

[xiaq]

I was scrolling through your tech world posts and was really struck by the one where you shared that dressing cute might actually make you stand out more if you're also competent and I wondered... do you have tips for finding a style that is You and also professional? Admittedly I am in finance, not tech, (somehow. Definitely wasn't my degree) but as a young female professional who often feels like I'm playing catchup at figuring out all these things. I even struggle with finding motivation to dress in a way i enjoy rather than whatever is easiest. I wondered if you had anything to share. Your posts just inspired me. I aim to be as fulfilled and confident and happy with myself and my career as those glimpses you shared with us imply. Which I know is just a glimpse, but it's an inspirational glimpse nonetheless.

No idea if this will be useful, but here is my approach:

Comfort is the most important thing for me. I’m weird about textures and seams and things touching my neck. So first I make sure whatever I’m wearing won’t drive me insane. I know I’m good with linen, silk, and alpaca wool (occasionally other kinds of wool). Cotton is typically okay unless it’s mixed with something. Polyester is a no. Most synthetics are a no. Anything that’s crepe-y/bubbly is a no.

I also have anxiety and sweat more when I’m nervous. This means that, for professional clothing, I have to wear a dark color for my top, or a fabric/pattern that doesn’t show sweat. Which means I typically get creative/colorful with my bottoms and any blazers/sweaters.

I love bodysuits because they cling in a comforting way, don’t get weirdly bunched up/require fiddling with, and are generally flattering. So most of my base top layers are bodysuits.

Keeping that in mind, I have two ways I purchase clothes.

The first is in-person thrift stores, in which I look for the aesthetics I enjoy, then weed out non-starters via the fabric tags.

The second is via ThredUp (an online thrift store), which lets me start my search by filtering out the kinds of fabric I don’t like, and then I can base my entire search process on what I find most pretty.

I guess the best advice I have is to find an outfit you feel most confident/comfortable in. And then figure out what components of that outfit make you feel that way. Is it the way the blouse hugs your ribcage? Or the way your pants sit high on your waist? The chunky heel on your boot that gives you a couple more inches in height? Once you’ve figured that out, try to replicate those aspects with new clothing items until you have a nice little selection.

Here are pics of my professional outfits from the last 3 years. Everything is thrifted. And you’ll notice I re-use items a lot even as I move back and forth between more fem to more masc looks.

[bqstqnbruin]

Christmas Crashing

I'm taking a break from my regularly scheduled Swayman programming for a different fic where I'm actually not mean with the ending????? Who would have thought I could do that

ANYWAY this is for @wyattjohnston's winter fic exchange, and I got to write for the absolutely amazing @laurenairay! We're ignoring that it's more than the week after Christmas but oh well

Also shoutout to @nicohischier for letting me yell about this and reading this while I scared her ily

Warnings: swearing, mentions of alcohol, I actually gave you a happy ending?????

WC:8890

Flashbacks are in italics

______________________________________

“What are you saying?”

“That I’m done.”

“That we’re done,” he clarifies for her.

She can feel her chest start to tighten, a lump forming in her throat. “Yeah.” 

Mimi hangs up without letting him get in another word, telling herself that she didn’t want to let him listen to the first sob that came out of her. She couldn’t read the text that he had sent trying to make sense of what just happened, telling her that he loved her and knew she loved him, that he wanted to figure this out and get through whatever was going on.

________________________

“You should totally post this photo,” Stella tells her, her mouth hanging open while she stared at Mimi’s phone screen. 

“Are you sure?” Mimi leans over her friend's shoulder, trying to look at Stella’s handiwork. Mimi was facing the arena, the back of the jersey her mom got her for Christmas a couple of years ago on full display as she looked back over her shoulder, her ponytail covering part of Hischier’s name. 

“Babe, you look so hot.” Stella opens up Mimi’s account, drafting up a post for her roommate. 

Mimi tries to snatch the phone from her before she could do anything, her taller friend holding the phone over her head while people around them filter into the arena, probably thinking these two girls outside were acting ridiculous. They were, but that wasn’t going to stop Mimi. 

Stella manages to get the picture posted, despite Mimi saying she wasn’t sure. “You look hot, shut up and let everyone see it.”

“You’re the worst.” 

“And you love me anyway.” 

They go into the game, Mimi ignoring the notifications that were coming up on her screen from Instagram despite the ego boost she denied they gave her. She could have spent the entire game on her phone, just scrolling through notifications and making her head bigger than it should be. 

“So?” Stella asks after the first period when the two of them head to the concourse to get food. “Was I right?”

Mimi had her phone in her hand, showing Stella her screen and scrolling for what seemed like forever to the end of the notifications she had yet to open. “Fine.”

“Tell me I was right,” Stella gloats.

Mimi rolls her eyes. “This kind of shit is why I broke up with Sofia, if you remember.”

“You broke up with her because she was an awful girlfriend in general, not because she was right more often than you were.” Mimi ignores her, continuing to scroll through the notifications while Stella looks over her shoulder. “Wait, woah, go back.”

Mimi scrolls back down, waiting for Stella to tell her to stop. “There’s no way.”

Stella starts jumping up and down, trying not to bring too much attention to them this time. “Did he comment on your photo?”

“Did you tag him in the photo?” 

Stella smirks. “There’s no harm in trying.” 

“I can’t believe you.” 

“What does it say?”

“No.” 

“It has to say more than just, ‘no.’”

“No, I mean,” Mimi says, moving up in the line. “I’m not gonna read it here.”

“Why not?” Stella whines.

“What if he thinks the picture is weird to tag him in? I don’t want to see that while he’s literally on the ice,” she says in a hushed voice. 

“What if he doesn’t?”

“I don’t want to read it.” 

The game ends, Stella somehow gaining full control over Mimi’s phone as the two of them head out to a bar after a quick pit stop at home to change, despite Mimi’s protest for wanting to stay home and read her book instead. Her bed was right there, after all. 

“Go do your thing,” Stella says, heading off to find a table for the two of them while Mimi tries to secure drinks. 

“Hey,” Mimi approaches one guy, pulling out a trick that she got from one of her books. “Buy me a drink if I beat you at tic-tac-toe.”

The guy looks perplexed, agreeing while his friends root him on, Mimi grabbing a napkin from the bar counter and pulling a pen out of her bag. She normally won, considering the fact that the guys were normally too drunk by the time she got to them to think straight enough to play the game. 

This time was no different. She won easily. 

“What do you want?” the guy asks, his friends making fun of him for losing and putting him in a foul mood. 

“Vodka Sour,” she asks for Stella’s drink.

She gets the drink and leaves before he can say or do anything else, heading back to Stella with her drink in hand. 

“Free?”

“Free,” she confirms, seeing her phone in Stella’s hands. “What are you doing?”

Stella smirks, a facial expression that makes her nervous. “Nothing.”

Mimi nods. “I’m gonna try and find another guy.” 

She heads back to the bar, scanning for another person she could get a drink from. She sees a guy talking to a friend, looking nervous. He looked sweet. Maybe she could actually talk to him and bring his friend over for Stella, too.

“Want to play tic-tac-toe?” she asks him, the guy looking like a deer in headlights. “Winner buys drinks?”

“I’ll play,” she hears behind her, the two guys eyes getting wide as they stare at the person. “Mimi, right?”

“Nico?” 

He smiles at her, taking a step closer and reaching over her shoulder to grab a napkin. He brushes against her, sending a shock through her body. “Let’s play.” 

________________________

Mimi gets to baggage claim, trying her best to ignore the fact that she was supposed to be here with Nico, not by herself, as she gets home for Christmas. He wasn’t even going to be with her for that long because of his schedule, but it was supposed to be something, at least. He knew Christmas was her favorite holiday, her favorite time of year, and instead of being with her like he was supposed to be, he was back in New Jersey. 

“Emilia,” she hears her mom calling her name, way louder than she needed to be since there were only about five other people around the carousel, the airport surprisingly empty considering it was December 23rd. Her mother came running up to her, practically tackling her into the bags that were starting to roll around as her father sighed, grabbing Mimi’s bag. 

“Where’s Gram?” Mimi asks. Every single time she came home, without fail, no matter what time of day it was, her grandmother was always there to see her when she got off the plane.

“She’s with Uncle Sam in New York for this Christmas, remember?” Mimi nods, not remembering the conversation her mother goes on to claim they had weeks ago. It was weird that her grandmother wasn’t there. “Where’s Nico?”

Mimi hesitates, another thing that was wrong. She hadn’t told her parents yet. She didn’t know how to. “His practice schedule changed at the last minute, so he had to stay back. He’s going to let me know later if he’s going to be able to come out here.”

Her father nods, incredibly indifferent. Despite how much he seemed to adore Nico, he would rather have less people around the house so he didn’t get overstimulated when he was cooking. More people meant more food he had to keep track of. 

Her mother on the other hand. “Oh, no. He’s not coming? But we haven’t seen him in so long. What if we Facetime him, tell him we can pay for the ticket for him to come. Where’s your phone?”

Mimi swats off her mother’s hand, trying to follow her dad out to their car so she could go home and go to sleep. “Mother, money is not the problem, I promise. He can’t help his practice schedule,” she lies. 

Her mother continues to fret, walking to the car going on and on about how she wished she had known so she didn’t spend all the extra time preparing for Mimi’s boyfriend to come home with her. Mimi lets out a sigh, climbing into the backseat as her father loads her bags into the trunk.

________________________

“Where are we going?” Mimi asks, climbing into Nico’s passenger seat once his car pulls to a stop in front of her building.

He smirks, leaning across the center console, giving her a kiss, one hand on the wheel with another cupping her face. “It’s a surprise.” 

“That’s what someone would say before they dump the body,” Mimi jokes as Nico pulls away from the curb.

“Jesus fucking Christ, Mimi,” Nico groans, Mimi noticing the smile on his face regardless of his tone. They had been dating for about a month now, spending more time with him than she spent with Stella despite the fact they lived together. It wasn’t her fault; she couldn’t say no to him when he asked her to do something, no matter what it was. 

Mimi shrugs, a teasing look on her face. “Think about it, it would be perfect to take me to some far off location to commit a felony when I have no idea where we’re going.” 

“Stella has your location.”

“You could steal my phone.”

Nico rolls his eyes. “Mimi, I’m not going to hurt you.” 

“Then where are we going?”

“Can’t I surprise you? Please?” he begs, his tone turning a little more serious. 

She sighs, staring out the window as he drives away from the city in an attempt to hide the smile on her face. “I guess.” 

The snow on the ground became more pristine the longer he drove, untouched and perfect as they got away from the more densely populated area they lived in. The trees lining the streets made her wish she lived out here, giving that illusion of serenity that you couldn’t get in the city. 

Nico pulled off the road to follow a gravel path, lined with a wooden fence on either side, just barely wide enough for the car to fit down. 

“This is definitely the perfect place for a murder,” Mimi jokes.

“Jeez,” Nico sighs. “We’re doing something fun.” 

Mimi sees the sign in front of her as Nico starts to slow down, a Christmas tree farm in front of them. She looks at Nico, who was already staring at her with a smile on his face. “So?”

“We’re getting a tree?” Mimi said, feeling herself getting giddy as she unbuckled her seatbelt, practically jumping out of the car.

Nico joins her, taking his hand in hers and leading her closer to the plethora of trees in front of them. “You said you used to love going with your dad and cutting down the perfect tree when you were younger. These are pre-cut, but I figured you could help me pick out the perfect one for my place.”

________________________

“You already have the tree up?” Mimi asks, her heart dropping when she walks into her parents house, seeing what was supposed to be a tradition between her and her dad already there. They never got the tree this early. And they certainly never had it already decorated with lights.

“Mimi,” her mother starts as she beelines for the tree.

“It’s not even real.” Her mouth hangs open as she examines the fake, plastic monstrosity before her, the lights on the tree because it came prelit. “You got a fake tree.”

“Donohue retired.” Mimi stared at her dad, the sad look in his eyes mirroring her own. “There was nowhere to get a real tree this year.”

Mimi nods, knowing it was stupid to get upset over something so trivial, that feeling that something . “We still have all our ornaments, right?”

Her mother comes over to her, putting her arm around her daughter’s shoulders. “You think we could get rid of those?”

________________________

“What are you doing today?” Nico’s voice comes through Mimi’s phone. 

“Nothing.”

“Now you’re not.” Mimi could hear his smile. “I’m picking you up in five minutes.”

Mimi hangs up without another word, rushing to get ready for him. 

He knocks on her door moments later, coat in hand with plastic bags full of stuff there with him. “Hi,” he says, using his free hand to pull her in for a kiss.

“Hi.” She looks at the bags in his hands, trying to suss out why he had craft supplies with him. “What’s all this?”

“Well,” he starts, pushing past her and heading for her kitchen table, placing the bags down and starting to clear the surface off. “After we got my tree, I realized I don’t have anything to put on it.”

Mimi watches him taking out everything from the bags; paint, markers, stencils, scissors, paper, pipe cleaners; it looked like he raided the store purge style for everything you could possibly think of. “And?”

He organizes everything into piles in front of them, gesturing to his haul. “I thought we could make some ornaments together.” 

Mimi laughs, her heart fluttering as Nico beams at her. “How good are you at arts and crafts?”

Nico smirks. “Horrible. You?”

“Awful.”

“Then this will be fun.”

________________________

“Hey, what time is Celeste getting here?” Mimi asks as she hangs up one her ‘Baby’s First Christmas’ Ornament as high as she could, something she has done every year since she could walk. Her sister was supposed to be getting in before she did if her memory served her correctly. 

Her parents exchange looks behind her back, thinking Mimi didn’t catch them. “She got snowed in.” 

“What?” she asks, nearly dropping the ornament her great-grandmother made. “So when is she going to get here?”

“The snow isn’t supposed to clear until tomorrow.”

“So she should be able to get here tomorrow, then?” 

“Maybe.” 

“Maybe?” Mimi screams. This was an overreaction on her part, but it was now the third thing that had been wrong with this Christmas, on top of Nico breaking up with her right before she was getting on the plane. “Celeste has to come to Christmas. Where else will she go?”

“She would be with Quinn and his family, I would assume,” her mother says, referring to her sister’s fiance.

Mimi just nods, knowing there was nothing she could do to control it. That didn’t mean she couldn’t still feel upset about it. 

The rest of the day feels like a blur, a weird emptiness knowing her sister wasn’t going to be showing up like she was supposed to, her grandmother was spending Christmas on the other side of the country, and the tree wasn’t real like it had been for as long as she could remember.

That and she kept checking her phone, expecting a text from Nico to show up on her screen, despite the fact that he hadn’t texted her in weeks. 

“Hey, Emilia,” her dad pulls her out of her trance, standing in front of her with the car keys. “Want to run out and grab some things with me?

________________________

“Stop bouncing your leg, you’re shaking the car,” Nico reaches over and presses down on Mimi’s thigh, trying to get her to stop.

“Sorry,” she mumbles, sinking further into his passenger seat. She looks out the window, snow everywhere, less and less cars on the road as they get to the cabin Nico’s friends rented out for the weekend. They had a rare break between games without so much as a practice (according to Nico, this was unheard of), so some of his friends took the opportunity to get away from home for a while and just relax somewhere else.

It looked like Nico was driving her into her death.

It was worse, actually. She had to meet new people and interact with them without anywhere to retreat.

“Our room is the only one on the top floor if they get to be too much,” Nico says, reading her mind. “They’re going to love you.”

They had just had the ‘what are we conversation,’ where Nico let her know that he considered her to be his girlfriend a while ago. Apparently, Nico’s entire team had been referring to Mimi as Nico’s girlfriend for the last month. It was time to actually meet them, and Mimi felt like she would rather run out into the wilderness and disappear with the bears. 

Mimi lets out a deep breath as he turns down the road the GPS told him to turn down. This couldn’t be that bad, could it?

As soon Nico pulled up in front of the cabin, the car seemed to be surrounded by his teammates, screaming about god only knows what and opening every door despite not needing to.

“You said you were bringing the beer,” Luke whines. 

“I did,” Nico deadpans. “You’re barely old enough to drink, calm down.”

“Luke, go back inside,”Jack says, reaching up and trying to mess with Luke’s hair. Luke stomps back inside, Mimi hearing him muttering something about being treated like a child. “He’ll be fine.” 

“I told you not to bring him,” Nico says, handing his teammate the aforementioned case of beer. “He’s too young.”

“Ok, Dad,” he says, Nico rolling his eyes. “You know as well as I do that I couldn’t leave him home when all of us were here.”

Nico hands Mimi her bag from the trunk once she gets out of the car, taking her hand in his and leading her into the cabin. “That’s Jack and Luke.”

Mimi nods, recognizing them from long before she and Nico even started dating. Nico, for some reason, had a habit of forgetting that she actually knew the sport and the team well enough, growing up with her dad being a fan of them since they were in Kansas City and passing it onto her as they relocated to Devner, then to East Rutherford. She probably knew more about the Devils as a franchise because of her father than Nico did as captain. 

They get inside, the heat hitting Mimi’s face. The inside of the cabin was beautiful, the walls entirely made of wood with light fixtures that looked like oil lamps attached to the walls. Thankfully, there were no dead animals stuck to the walls as she had feared, but a huge TV mounted in front of the couches, playing none other than an NHL game on the screen. 

“There’s Dawson, Jesper, and Nate,” Nico points, the three guys waving to them. 

Mimi pulls Nico aside. “I thought you said they were bringing their partners, too.” 

Nico blinks at her. “None of them are seeing anyone.”

“So it’s just you, me, and your teammates?”

Nico nods. “Yeah, of course.”

Mimi nods slowly, biting the inside of her cheek. “I think I’m going to head up to our room.”

Mimi layed on the bed she and Nico were going to share in the cabin, trying to read while Nico and his teammates were screaming downstairs, clearly already drunk despite them only being there for two hours. This wasn’t how the weekend was supposed to go. She was supposed to meet his teammates and their partners as Nico had told her, so she wouldn’t be alone with the guys.

It’s not that she didn’t think she would have fun, it’s just not what she was expecting. 

She hears a knock on the door as she stares up at the ceiling, her book laying facedown, open, on her chest. She was making no progress. Nico pokes his head in before she can say anything. “Can we talk?”

Mimi nods, sitting up and marking her place in her book. 

“You’re mad at me.” Nico sits down on the bed by her feet. 

She sighs. “I’m not mad.”

“But you aren’t happy with me.” 

“I’m annoyed that you didn’t tell me what I was getting into this weekend.”

“What can I do to make it up to you?” Nico pleaded with her. The look on his face made her chest ache, knowing that he actually wanted to do that. 

Mimi exhales. “Give me,” she hesitates. “Like an hour?”

“Ok.” Nico nods. She stares at him for a second, neither of them moving while the sound of his teammates laughter rings through the house. “Are you not going to go back down?”

“Not without you.” 

“I’m just going to sit here and read,” she tells him, giving him a suspicious look. 

Nico nods again, shifting to rest his back against the headboard, his arm raised for her to cuddle right into. “That’s fine.” 

The two fell into a comfortable silence, Mimi feeling Nico’s eyes on her while she read her book. They stayed that way for two hours, just enough time for Mimi to think of herself as the character in the book falling in love with the man she was going to spend her life with. 

________________________

The two of them drive in silence, Mimi not really caring where they were going. She keeps resisting the urge to check her phone, knowing that she would see her background instead of any notification she would actually care about. 

“So, kid,” her father starts, pulling into the grocery store parking lot. “Nico isn’t coming, is he?”

Mimi looks out the window, pursing her lips and shaking her head. “No.”

“Are you two alright?”

“No.”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“No.”

He parks the car, sitting there for a moment. “Ok. Let’s go in.” 

“What are we doing here, anyway?” The two of them walk through the aisles, her dad pushing a carriage with the loudest wheel possible. He had a talent for picking out the most rickety one every time, somehow not caring and not getting annoyed as he shopped.

He starts pulling things from the shelves, ingredients Mimi recognized as being for her favorite ricotta cookies, the recipe that had been passed down through her family from her great-great-grandparents. “Mom thought it would be fun to make these again this year.”

Mimi smiles, looking at his cart to see what he still needed that she could grab. The last thing he needed, the most important ingredient, was the ricotta. She heads over to the cheese, scouring the case for the right one.

“Any luck?” her father appears behind her, seeing the frown on her face. She shakes her head, staring at the case. They had to have the ricotta. They couldn’t make ricotta cookies without it. Her father flags down an employee.

They shrug, shoving their hands in their jean pockets. “If it’s not out here, we must be out. The trucks haven’t been coming in with everything lately.” 

Mimi looks at her dad as the employee stalks away. “What do we do?”

Her dad shrugs, staring at the cart. “We can check another store later, but I guess we can’t make them tonight.”

________________________

The first snowfall of the year happened abnormally early; in October, actually. The last time Mimi remembered an October snowstorm was around 2010, when she was eleven. That resulted in most of her life getting shut down for the week, but at least she didn’t have to go to school.

Mimi remembered staying in while her father cleared the driveway, her and Celeste sitting at the door near the back porch and staring towards the sky while the snow fell toward them, pretending that they were being transported to a different winter wonderland that wasn’t their backyard. Their mother would make mac and cheese and turn on a movie for Celeste while Mimi curled up on the couch, cuddling with her mother while she read whatever book she could get her hands on. The hot chocolate always came later, with extra marshmallows. 

As she got older, it meant no school, then no work, but always snuggling on the couch under her warmest blanket, a movie playing in the background while she read with a mug of hot chocolate next to her. 

She sits down on her couch, getting ready to spend the day not moving when someone is buzzing her apartment to come up, a text from Nico letting her know it was him.

“What are you doing here?” she asks when she opens her door. 

He smiles at her, making her heart skip a beat as he bends down to kiss her. “Practice and the game got cancelled tonight, I thought I would stop by since your location said you were home.” 

“Oh,” she lets out, cringing at the disappointment that she heard come through her voice. She watched Nico’s smile falter.

“Do you want me to go?”

Mimi looked out the window, watching the snow fall even harder than it had just mere minutes ago, Nico already covered in snow as it was. “No, no, it’s not safe for you.”

Nico nods, unsure what to do. 

“I was just about to read my book,” Mimi says, taking his hand and leading him in. 

“Oh.” He sounded disappointed. “I thought we could just kinda,” his voice trailed off, his eyes flicking back and forth between her and the hallway leading to her bedroom. “But that’s fine. You can read your book.” 

“I do this every snow day,” Mimi tries not to whine, sitting down on her couch and clutching her book. 

Nico exhales, nodding. “That’s fine,” he repeats, clearing his throat. “What else do you do?” 

Nico sits down next to her, Mimi pulling her book closer to her chest. “I just,” she starts, feeling her heartbeat rising for no reason that she could think of. 

“Hey, hey,” Nico coos, gently bringing her into his chest. He kissed the top of her head, one hand rubbing her back while the other rested on her lap. “I can leave. If you don’t want me here, I will leave. If it’s not safe to go I will just sit in the hallway.”

Mimi lets out a strangled laugh, picturing him playing games on his phone while he posted up outside her door, probably staying there until one of her neighbors ventured out of their place and called someone to come take away the man sitting outside an apartment he didn’t live in. “I put on a movie in the background and then just sit with my blanket and read it.” 

“Can I join you?”

“You want to watch the movie or do you want a book?” Nico shifts, getting up and heading down the hall to her room. “That’s not an answer,” she calls after him.

He comes back, waving a book in his hands. “I’ll read and then if I get bored, I’ll fall back on the movie.”

Mimi stares at the book he picked, her heart swelling in her chest. “That’s my favorite book.”

“I know. That’s why I want to read it again.” 

________________________

Mimi and her father finally get home, the one missing ingredient for some reason impossible to find and the remaining groceries unable to be left in the car for much longer without ruining them, too. 

“I’ll head out in the morning again and see if I can find it,” her dad tries to reassure her when he pulls into the driveway. 

She heads inside to her old room. Every little thing has gone wrong so far, it seemed, but why should it bother her? She was going to be with her family at Christmas, something she hadn’t really been able to do the last few years because of work. Her sister might not be here,or her grandmother, or her boyfriend, but still with her parents.

Her ex-boyfriend.

Staring at the walls of the room she grew up in, seeing the posters from the musicals that she was in when she was in middle school and high school taped above her bed, the game-day posters from the games she went to with her dad as a child surrounding her closet, the awards she won for various random clubs and activities she did in order to go to college where she did above her bookcase. 

Mimi thinks back to her packing job, trying to remember what books she brought with her for the trip. She had the one she read while she was in the airport and on the plane, but she finished that right before her plane landed, putting that back in her bag and spending the rest of the time in the air logging the book rather than starting another one. Did she even bring another one?

She remembers plugging in her e-reader before she started packing, but did she ever unplug it and pack it? She texts Stella to check and unplug it so she doesn’t murder her prized possession while away. 

“Mom,” Mimi yells, not waiting for any acknowledgement. “What books do you have?”

“Check our bedroom,” she hears, heading to the bookcase that’s against the wall. 

“I’ve read all of these,” she yells back, trying not to let a whining tone come through her voice. And she actually had. Most of her parents were her old books that she had read that she gave to them, or that she bought separate copies of for them. The books her parents got on their own somehow found their way into Mimi’s hands, leaving her with nothing. 

Her mom appears in the doorway, a concerned look on her face while she watches her daughter stare defeated at the books. She checks her watch, grabbing her wallet from her closet. “Take my library card and check out what you want. They’re still open for another hour or so.” Mimi takes the card and stares at it. She wasn’t even sure if this was allowed. Wasn’t it some sort of fraud to use someone else’s library card? “I have a book on hold, I’ll call them and let them know they can give it to you. Go.”

Mimi gets pushed out the door and handed the keys, faster than she can even process what was going on. 

She hadn’t been inside her hometown library since she was in high school, everything still exactly the same except for the self check out computers they added for when the librarians were busy. They had set up a holiday book display, Mimi beelining there in hopes of finding anything that could potentially put her in a better mood. 

Mimi picks up a book with two girls on the cover, some sapphic holiday romance that had been on her radar since October when someone she followed on social media had posted about it. 

“Emilia?” She snaps away from the book to see a guy standing in front of her, someone who she swore looked familiar but couldn’t, for the life of her, remember why she knew him. “Niall Walsh.”

The guy she went to junior prom with. Shit, he looked good. “Of course, how are you?” she asks him, trying to sound enthusiastic about seeing him. She just needed to get books and go home.

“Good, good. You’re still out in New Jersey?”

They fall into a stupid conversation, Mimi trying to back away and find more books for her stay. She needed at least three to survive the holiday. 

“A bunch of us are heading to the green later to skate, you should join us,” Niall offers, starting to list off people from high school Mimi hadn’t kept in touch with.

“That sounds so nice, but I’ve gotta help my mom with stuff for the holidays.” 

Niall finally says goodbye with his books in hand, letting her know that she was still welcome to join if she had the time.

She didn’t want to go ice skating. It made her think of Nico. 

________________________

“For fucks sake,” Mimi huffs, kicking the door open. “Next time we want to move, we’re not doing it in the middle of winter, and we aren’t doing it in the middle of your season.”

Nico laughs, getting up from the couch and grabbing the box from her. They had been together for over a year, finally making the decision to move in together. “Both of our leases were up and you would hate moving in the summer, too.”

“I’m somehow sweating and freezing. This is awful.” 

“How many more boxes are in your car?”

“All my books.” 

“There’s no way you fit all of those in your car.”

Mimi makes a face, taking Nico’s hand and dragging him back downstairs. “Stella might also be there with her car full of my books.”

Nico sighs with a lazy smile on his face, puts his arm around her and pulls her close as they walk outside and kisses the side of her head. “That’s my girl.”

“You have too many fucking books,” Stella mutters, opening her trunk. “I nearly died because I couldn’t see out my windows.”

“You were probably fine,” Nico deadpans, checking his phone. “Jack and Luke said they’ll be here in an hour with the truck.” 

“You’re meeting them back at our place?”

“My place.”

“Your place.” The two stare at each other, the gravity of Mimi moving out just about to hit them.

Nico clears his throat, hoping to distract them long enough that they can have their moment inside rather than out on the street. “Let’s get these books inside before it gets dark out.”

The girls unload the cars, boxes upon boxes of books being brought up to the new apartment and placed haphazardly throughout the space. 

“Where are all of these going, anyway?” Stella huffs, setting down a book that Mimi had labelled as ‘Fantasy,’ meaning that all of her biggest books were stuffed in there.

“We have the second bedroom that we’re turning into a reading space,” Nico says. 

Stella nods. “Well,” she straightens her back, all of them feeling the pain of moving too many boxes. “I’m going to go back and meet the idiots for the rest.” She leaves before the girls can say anything else to each other, both of them avoiding the fact that they wouldn’t be living together anymore after nearly seven years. They were so close to having a common law marriage.

Mimi looks at Nico, staring at all the boxes scattered around them. “We have to unpack these.” 

Nico smiles at her. “I have a better idea.” 

Mimi eyes him curiously, watching him head to one of the closets that she still wasn’t sure held, Nico pulling things out. “Ice skates?” she asks, staring at the two pairs in his hands.

“There’s a pond that’s frozen over behind the building, we can take a break before it gets dark.” 

“We’ve never gone skating before,” Mimi points out. “You don’t even know if I can.”

Nico hands her the pair meant for her, taking her hand and grabbing his keys as they head out. “You’re probably better than me.”

“Obviously. You’re pretty shit at skating, aren’t you?” she teases him.

Nico laughs. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

________________________

“Did you leave any books for other people?” her dad teases her when she comes back through the door.

“There’s still all the books written by Republicans.”

“Do they know how to write books?”

Mimi hears her mother scold him for that one, trying to stifle her own laugh so she isn’t scolded as well. “I have enough books for the time that I’m here. I think. Don’t worry.” 

Mimi heads up to her room, flopping down on her bed with a book open in her hand. She didn’t need anyone else to be here for it to be Christmas for her. She could just be with her parents and whatever other family they had coming over this year. 

She reads her book, a group of friends going to one of their parents' houses for the holidays because none of them have anywhere else to do until they realize that two of them were not only together previously, but one had left the other at the altar. 

Mimi sits up straight on her bed, shutting the book as fast as she could. She had to stop going into books blind. Every time, without fail, they reminded her of the things that were going wrong in her life.

________________________

“When do we have to leave?” Nico asks, his arms wrapped around Mimi as they lay in bed, the snow falling outside and coating the window, his bare chest against hers. 

Mimi hums, turning herself to nestle into his shoulder. She didn’t want to leave this moment. “Our flight is at noon.” 

Mimi was heading home for Thanksgiving this year, bringing Nico home with her for the first time. Her parents had met him before, but this was her whole family now. They had been dating for two years at this point, living together for almost a year, and at this point, they both decided it was time to meet her family.

It was terrifying. 

“Ugh, shit,” Nico groans, letting go of her and getting out of bed. “I need to shower, then.” 

Mimi lays in their bed for a few moments, trying to fathom taking a boy home with her. Not just any boy, but the one she lived with, the one she loved.

One of the phones on the nightstand makes some noise, Mimi hearing the shower starting in the bathroom. She reaches over for the one lit up, not sure whose she was grabbing. 

Her mom’s first name came up as the contact sending a message.

“Nico, my mom is texting you.” 

She hears something fall in the shower. “You can just leave it,” he yells back, a weird tone in his voice.

Why would her mom be texting him? Normally, she texted both of them in a group chat that included her father, Celeste, and Quinn, regardless of who she actually needed to talk to. Her mom never even texted her separately, even on her birthday. 

Mimi knew Nico’s passcode. She could just open his phone and look at what they were talking about. 

But why would she do that? Mimi shook her head, putting the phone back on the nightstand and started to get ready, pushing the thought of Nico and her mom talking about something that she couldn’t know about from her mind every time it popped up. 

They had to focus on finishing up the last of their packing and getting to the airport, which they had less than an hour to get to, at this point. 

“Babe, hurry up,” she yells, throwing the last things they needed in their bags, Nico still in the bathroom fucking around. “We need to leave, like, five minutes ago.” 

“I’m good, I’m ready,” he says, emerging from the bathroom, his hair still soaked. “And we have plenty of time before we need to leave.” He grabs his phone, Mimi seeing him open the text from her mom and a smile growing on his face. 

________________________

Mimi finishes one book and quickly moves onto the next, losing track of time. The last thing she remembered, the SecUnit was freaking out about dying and not saving its humans. 

Next thing she knows, it’s three am, her lights are still on, her book is still in her hand miraculously with her page saved by her finger, and something was making noise downstairs. Actually, someone.

Mimi practically launches herself out of bed, finding the kitchen lights on and her sister checking the fridge. “What the fuck?” she breathes out, grabbing Celeste into a hug. 

“Hi, to you, too,” Celeste laughs, Quinn in the background going through cabinets. “We need food.” 

“I thought your flight couldn’t come in?”

“Quinn here drove us.”

“From Vancouver?”

Quinn shrugs, the normal sullen look on his face made even worse from the exhaustion of the long drive. “Celeste had to get here.”

“Yeah,” she says, taking Mimi’s hand and leading her to the kitchen table. “How are you?” She had called her sister almost immediately after it happened to tell her. 

“Good.” Celeste gives her that look that tells her she knows it’s a lie. “Fine.” Another look. Mimi sighs, letting out the words she hadn’t said out loud to anyone. “I miss him.” 

________________________

Her family loved Nico. 

Her little cousins flocked to him, her aunts and uncles raved about how easy he was to talk to. Celeste nearly drooled over him despite Quinn standing right next to him and her having seen him plenty of times on TV. Her parents, Mimi was sure, wished he was their actually child. They would trade Mimi for three mini cans of soda and a bag of corn chips if it meant Nico was their son. 

Mimi was watching Nico play with her youngest cousin, Vivianna, as she showed Nico all the dolls she brought with her and told him about all of them in that high-pitched toddler babble she was probably going to have grown out of by Christmas. Her chest ached at the sight of his smile at Vivianna, finding herself daydreaming about him with their own kid one day. 

“Hey,” her mom pulls her out of her trance. “Can you go grab my phone on my nightstand? It has the recipe for the mac and cheese and I need to take out the turkey in a second.”

“Got it.” 

She heads upstairs to her parents room, finding the phone, an unread message notification from Nico from a couple of hours ago on the screen. She was looking for the recipe, not the messages. It was saved in her mother’s notes app, and that was all she needed to look for. 

But her mom told her to get her phone. She could see the messages and then just ‘unread’ the one Nico had sent her. 

No. That was crazy. What was she even worried about? Her mom and Nico haven’t some sort of illicit affair? That would never happen. 

She shakes her head of the thought. She was going crazy over nothing. Mimi unlocks her mothers phone, expecting to find her home screen with all her apps, her notes app in the bottom left hand corner of the main dock. 

Instead it opened right to Nico’s messages. 

Mimi couldn’t help herself. She scrolls up to the last few messages, her mom for some reason either not replying to him or deleting all of her messages to him, leaving only what Nico sent. 

It was links upon links of engagement rings. 

And she hated every single one of them.

“Mimi,” her mother yells up the stairs. “Did you find my phone?”

Shit. “Yeah,” she sets the message back to being unread and pulls up the notes app just as her mom appears in the doorway. “Here, sorry. I grabbed Dad’s phone instead.”

Her mother eyes her suspiciously, looking at the other nightstand where the other phone sat. “No problem, let’s head back down stairs. Nico was looking for you.”

Nico. 

________________________

“I think you should call him,” Celeste says, ignoring the fact that Quinn was falling asleep in the chair next to her. Actually, Mimi was sure that he was already asleep.

Mimi shakes her head. “He wanted to propose, to get married, to spend our lives together and he didn’t even know what kind of ring I liked? He doesn’t know me.”

“You’re an idiot,” Celeste sighs.

“You’re supposed to be on my side.”

“No, I’m supposed to call you out when you’re being a fucking dumbass.” 

“What did I do wrong here?”

“Mimi, the ring is not important.” Celeste reaches across the table and takes her sister's hands. “You love Nico and he loves you. You guys talked about getting married, didn’t you? The ring can be changed, but if you wait too long, it might not be Nico who gives it to you.”

Before Mimi can respond, Quinn stirs and startles the sisters, shifting on the table. He sits up, his forehead bright red from where he was resting. “Can we go to bed?” he mumbles, his eyes still closed.

Celeste helps get him out of the chair. “Yeah, babe.” She leads him out of the kitchen, leaving Mimi sitting there by herself. “Maybe think about calling him tomorrow? Tell him what you saw on our mother’s phone and tell him you’re an idiot?”

Mimi laughed at her sister’s bluntness. She had been wanting to call Nico for the last few weeks since she broke up with him. Worst of all, she did it while he was on a road trip and took a bag of things out and back to Stella’s place. She never went and got all her things, all her books. 

She heads up to her room, her phone flashing 4:00 am. She had to get to sleep if she wanted to be ready for whatever chaos her family brought with them when they got to their house the next afternoon. 

________________________

Mimi was shaking, walking down the street with an overnight bag slung over her shoulder, heading to Stella’s.

Nico was away on a west coast road trip for over a week already, scheduled to come back the next day. She had been keeping him at arm's length since Thanksgiving, since the text messages to her mother. Everything felt weird, between them and Nico had no idea why. Mimi couldn’t talk to him.

Her phone was in her hand, Nico’s number typed from memory ready to call, all she had to do was press the green button. They had talked earlier that morning, when he woke up, but she couldn’t say anything to him. 

She goes for it, knowing that she had to say something to him as to why she wasn’t at their apartment when he got home. 

“Hey, babe,” he answers groggily after a couple of rings. Mimi takes the phone away from her ear, trying to figure out the time difference. He was at the end of his pre-game nap, just waking up. “What’s up?”

“I’m going to Stella’s.”

“Oh, ok,” she hears him say, the ruffling of sheets as he sits up. He yawns, Mimi able to picture him stretching as he does so. “Are you guys doing a girl’s night?”

“No, um, I’m going to move back in with her.” Nico doesn’t say anything, Mimi standing outside her old building, checking to see if the call dropped.

Nico finally clears his throat. “You’re what?”

Mimi could feel the tears coming, trying to hold them back. As soon as she started to cry, she knew he would hear it in her voice. “I can’t do this anymore, Nico.” 

“What are you saying?” She hears him getting out of bed, shuffling around the hotel room. He was frantic, things falling over, Nico bumping into things, probably in a panic. 

Mimi hesitates. “That I’m done.”

He stops. “That we’re done,” he clarifies for her.

She can feel her chest start to tighten, a lump forming in her throat. “Yeah.” 

Mimi hangs up without letting him get in another word, telling herself that she didn’t want to let him listen to the first sob that came out of her. She couldn’t read the text that he had sent trying to make sense of what just happened, telling her that he loved her and knew she loved him, that he wanted to figure this out and get through whatever was going on.

Stella appears outside, holding the door open for her just as Mimi bursts into tears, bringing her friend in for a hug. 

“What happened?” 

Mimi can’t get a word out between her crying, feeling ridiculous for doing this on the street. Stella tries to console her, dragging her in the building. “You’re gonna be ok. Stay as long as you need. You’re heading to your parents in a few days, anyway.” 

________________________

Mimi woke up to her mother standing over her like she was back in high school and had snoozed her alarm one too many times. “It’s almost noon, are you going to get up?”

“Ugh,” Mimi lets out, swearing in her mind. She jolts out of bed, trying to find all the clothes she had planned to wear that never managed to get unpacked from her bag. 

“Everyone gets here in an hour.”

“I know, Mom.” Mimi nearly falls over trying to get her pants on, her mother just standing there watching.

“Anything from Nico?”

Mimi stops, her pajama top in one hand, the sweater she was planning on wearing in the other as she looks at the smirk her mom had on her face. “I just woke up and haven’t looked at my phone yet, I’m not sure.”

Her mother nods. “Just let us know if someone needs to go pick him up at the airport.” She leaves without another word. 

Mimi shakes it off, whatever weirdness her mother gave off probably just from the normal anxiety that came with hosting their family for Christmas Eve. Both sides of the family showed up, which meant the most chaos possible for their family. She heads downstairs, going through the motions of helping her father get the food ready, setting the tables, trying to find the bag of toys that had somehow completely disappeared since Thanksgiving that they kept for the little ones.

The doorbell rings, Mimi hearing one of her aunts call that she was letting herself in as she always did, a container of gingerbread cookies with her to hand off to Mimi. The rest of the family starts to filter in, the entire house filled with talking, laughing, screaming, and everyone in a good mood.

Except for Mimi. 

“You didn’t call him, did you?” Celeste pulls her aside. 

Mimi shakes her head, taking out her phone since she knew Celeste would make her call him now anyway. She types in his number, pressing the call button without hesitating.

“It went right to voicemail.” Mimi knew the color drained from her face, her heart dropping to her stomach. Did he block her? 

She tries to pull up his location, the last time his phone registering one being at Newark Airport around the same time Celeste got home. He couldn’t be travelling for hockey.

Celeste bites her lip, a concerned look on her face. “He’s probably just busy. His phone is off.”

“What if I can’t get him back?” Mimi felt like crying, again. She really fucked this up.

Celeste pulls her in for a hug. “Then we figure it out.” 

The sisters are interrupted by one of their father’s brothers, yelling something about Quinn being too quiet for the family and how he was sure they would break him out of his shell. Celeste immediately leaves to try to save her boyfriend, Mimi laughing at the image of the poor boy panicking over the anxiety that their family could cause. 

The doorbell rings, the rest of the family too loud for anyone but Mimi, who had happened to wander by the door on her way to the kitchen, to hear. She was sure everyone was already there, her mother not mentioning that anyone was going to be late.

She checks through the small window at the top, the angle of the glass distorting any good view of the person she could have. All Mimi could see was brown hair pacing back and forth on the front porch. 

Mimi opens the door. “Nico?” Her heart swells as he stops pacing, pulling her in for a hug as she shuts the door, not wanting her family to hear any of their conversation. “What are you doing here?”

He pulls away from her slightly to look at her, his one hand still on her waist and he brushes her hair off her face with the other, tucking it behind her cheek. “You’ve been avoiding my calls, and my texts. Stella, Celeste, and Quinn have all called me or Jack or Luke trying to figure out what happened.”

She sighs, wanting to bury herself in his chest and forget everything ever happened. “I saw the rings you sent my mom.”

“And?”

“I hated them.”

“I knew you would.” 

“What?”

Nico laughs, pulling her back into his chest. “I sent those to your mom because I knew at some point, your mom would ask you to pull up something on her phone for her, and I don’t want you knowing what you’re going to get when I do ask you.”

“When you do?”

“When I do ask you, it’ll be perfect for you.” 

Mimi doesn’t say anything, pulling him in for a kiss instead. She could feel him smile against her lips, his hands tightening around her waist. 

“I do have this for you, though,” Nico pulls away, reaching into his pocket. He pulls out a small ring box. “It’s what I’m going to put your ring in.”

Mimi raises her eyebrow at him as he encourages her to open it. “What’s on the lining?” Nico smiles, Mimi staring at the lines and marks. “Holy shit.” Her eyes grow wide when the realization hits her.

“It’s our tic-tac-toe game from the night we met.”

Mimi hugs him, nuzzling his face against his shoulder, feeling his heartbeat as he holds her tight. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

“Hey, there you are,” Celeste interrupts, the door open with their entire family standing there watching. Mimi felt her face get hot as they all gave the two of them knowing looks.  “Look who crashed Christmas.” 

[prettygirl-gabi]

"Triple Threat"

Rating: General Audiences

Warning: reader is dating both....but separately

Paring: Paige Bueckers x fem reader, Chris sturniolo x fem reader

Fandom:Sturniolo Triplets x Women's basketball

Summary: Q&A's = free passes...

@chrissbbydoll

I never imagined my casual answer to an innocent question during a live Q&A would set off the wildest chain of events in my life. But here I was, sitting cross-legged on the couch in Chris’s apartment, nervously scrolling through my phone while he laughed at the chaos I unknowingly unleashed.

It started out simple enough. Chris and I were live-streaming, chatting about random topics, when someone in the comments asked, “Who’s your celebrity crush?”

I hesitated, glancing at Chris, who was lounging beside me with his usual nonchalant smirk. “You’re really going to make me answer that with him right here?”

Chris raised an eyebrow, his grin widening. “Oh, come on. I’m not insecure. Go ahead, say it.”

I rolled my eyes. “Okay, fine. Paige Bueckers.”

The chat exploded instantly, fans spamming shocked emojis and comments like: “PAIGE?!” “OMG SAME” and “Chris, how are you not jealous rn???”

I laughed, holding my hands up defensively. “Listen, if I ever had a free pass to date anyone other than Chris, it’d have to be Paige. She’s insanely talented, gorgeous, and seems super sweet. Can you blame me?”

Chris chuckled, shaking his head. “Honestly? I’d date Paige too.”

The chat went ballistic again, and we moved on, not thinking much of it. Little did I know, the internet never forgets.

A Few Hours Later

“Babe, have you seen Twitter?” Chris asked, walking into the living room with his phone in hand.

“No, why?” I frowned, setting mine down.

He tossed his phone onto my lap, and I froze. On the screen was a clip of my Q&A answer, captioned: “Reader has a crush on Paige Bueckers, and Chris is totally fine with it 💀.” It already had thousands of views, and people were tagging Paige in the comments.

“Oh my God,” I groaned, covering my face. “Why did I say that?!”

Chris snorted, sitting beside me. “Because it’s true? Relax, it’s funny.”

“Yeah, until Paige actually sees it and thinks I’m a weirdo.”

Chris shrugged. “If she does, maybe she’ll DM you. You could shoot your shot.”

I rolled my eyes. “You’re the worst.”

Two Days Later

I was in the middle of editing some photos when my phone buzzed with a notification. My heart skipped a beat when I saw the name: Paige Bueckers.

“What the…?” I whispered, unlocking my phone to read her DM.

Hey, saw the clip from your live. Gotta say, I’m flattered. Wanna grab coffee sometime?

I stared at the message, my brain short-circuiting. Chris walked in, munching on a bag of chips.

“Why are you just sitting there like a statue?” he asked, peering over my shoulder.

I turned the screen toward him. His eyebrows shot up, and he whistled. “Well, look at that. Your crush slid into your DMs. Guess you’re famous now.”

“Chris, what do I say?!”

“Uh, yes?” he said, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “Go meet her. I’ll even drive you.”

Meeting Paige

Paige was even more incredible in person. She was warm, funny, and so down-to-earth that I almost forgot she was a basketball superstar. We bonded over our shared love of photography and basketball, and before I knew it, we were hanging out regularly.

Chris was surprisingly chill about the whole thing, often teasing me about my “Paige dates.”

“Don’t have too much fun without me,” he’d say with a wink whenever I left to meet her.

A Year Later

Paige and I had become close friends, and my feelings for her had evolved into a deep admiration. But I was oblivious to the conversations happening behind the scenes between her and Chris.

One night, Paige invited me to dinner at her place. When I arrived, Chris was already there, casually lounging on her couch like it was the most normal thing in the world.

“What are you doing here?” I asked, confused.

Chris smirked. “We’ve been talking.”

“About…?”

Paige walked over, her smile soft but knowing. “About you.”

I blinked, looking between them. “Me? What about me?”

Chris stood and wrapped an arm around my shoulders. “About how amazing you are. And how maybe… we both want to date you.”

My jaw dropped. “What?”

Paige stepped closer, her eyes locking with mine. “We’ve been talking for a while, trying to figure out if this could work. We both care about you, and we don’t want to put you in a position where you feel like you have to choose.”

Chris chimed in. “So, we thought… why not try this together?”

My heart raced as I processed their words. “You’re both serious about this?”

Paige nodded. “Only if you’re okay with it.”

Chris grinned. “So, what do you say, superstar?”

Epilogue

The three of us found a rhythm that worked. Paige brought excitement and adventure, Chris brought humor and comfort, and I felt like the luckiest person in the world to have them both by my side.

Our unique relationship wasn’t without its challenges, but with love, communication, and a lot of patience, we made it work. And as Paige liked to remind me whenever I doubted it:

“You said I was your free pass. Guess I took that literally.”

---

■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■

-Thank You For Reading!🩵🩶

-prettygirl-gabi🎀✨️

[whyse7vn]

MIN YOONGI & KIM SEOKJIN

NICER:

“You know….” Jin looks over to Yoongi he’s sprawled out on a black couch thats sits in middle of the room they’re both in mindlessly scrolling through his phone. “It’s almost time to renew our contracts”

“So?” Yoongi replies his full attention still being held by his phone.

“Well, don’t tell her” Yoongi pauses “I told you this but y/ns been kinda on the fence about it all”

“About renewing her contract?”

“About being in the group all together”

Yoongi’s phone falls flat to his chest. Jin bites back a smirk.

“What?”

“Again don’t tell her i told you this but she said being in the groups gotten a little suffocating that we all argue too much and tha—”

“Bullshit”

“I’m not joking you know she comes to me about stuff why would i lie?”

Yoongi pauses for a moment. Why would Seokjin his good friend of over 10 years lie to him?

There are many reasons actually like that one time he took that sandwich out the fridge that was clearly labelled “JINS DO NOT EAT” and ate it right in his face or that other time when he tripped Jin up during rehearsals for no reason at all or that time—

“Trust me she was like really serious about it and—”

Yeah Yoongi doesn’t believe him, not one bit.

“So why are you telling me this shouldn’t you go talk to Joon about this stuff?”

“You know how Namjoon is can’t say no to her like… ever she would be gone before we know it and i thought about bringing it up with Jungkook but you also know how he is..”

“What about Jimin? Hobi? The fucking company, why me?”

“It’s just ‘cuz she said- never mind it’s not important forget i mentioned this”

“What did she say?”

“Nothing… i just i- i don’t want you to think it’s your fault or anything”

“So it’s my fault”

Yoongi now sits fully up right on the couch he was once slouched on with his eyebrows furrowed and gaze locked on Jin.

Jin bites back another smirk.

“No! not at all she just said some… stuff don’t worry about it!”

“What did she say” It’s not a question anymore.

“Well just that maybe you could uh.. be nicer or something?”

“Nicer?” Yoongi is now fully stood up one fist clenched and a head full of questions.

“Me? …Nicer?”

“That’s what she said” Jin shrugs.

Yoongi knows he isn’t the best to his fellow members often rejecting their various displays of affection and saying somewhat mean things to them on occasion. Sure he might of ‘lovingly’ punched a few of them a couple times called them some unkind names but not you! well he did call you a bitch once … or twice but you knew he was joking right? And he says sorry… sometimes, so Yoongi’s not even that mean, not at all, like it’s tough love or whatever. Yoongi can be nice. Yoongi is nice.

Yoongi stares back at Jin.

“Do you… think i could be nicer?”

There’s a pause.

“Well…”

Oh. Ok maybe Yoongi isn’t as nice as he thought he was. But it wasn’t that bad.

“…just considering she wants to leave the group because of it…”

Right. It’s is that bad.

Yoongi’s gaze drops the floor momentarily. He notices his phone that once held his attention now resides ontop of the fluffy carpet beneath his feet, but that’s the least of his concern right now. He feels a little sick and a whole lot embarrassed.

“Did she uh say anything else… about me i mean” He looks everywhere but Jin another wave of embarrassment taking over him as the question leaves his mouth.

Jin cocks his head at Yoongi in clear amusement, Not that Yoongi could catch onto it anyways too caught up in his own mind at the moment.

“How about we discuss this over coffee my treat! I think there’s a way we can sort this all out”

—

part 2 HERE

tags: @piw6n @92jinnies @birdie-vhs @blairebangtan @hob3loveofmylife @jujubiism @bloopkook @ratchetpizza1 @myntalks @arloo00 @watamotee33 @y2kcy3brz @taiwan0618 @freyadanvers @gguksbeloved @raetf @bbsantc @winuvs @medicinemybish @bxnnyhime @leleluvsbts @baetukki @zyaaaszn @thelilbutifulthings @jazminethecreator @k4ngelz @jmnscutie @threeopossumsinacoat @cynicalyoongs @lightningpussy54 @eunthv @gigiiiiislife @lowkeykin @elissasimp @socksfirstalways @knjlvr06 @lailaisarmy @thvkives @xstfudaisyx @xxxanimangxxx @solstice34 @ml8dy @hoeforseoks @futuristicenemychaos

[grandpeachpersona]

It's A Man's World

Chapter 10 ☆Moment 4 Life☆

Sorry this took so long I just kept hitting a roadblock while writing it but I finally finished it. I hope you all enjoy as always feedback is appreciated ;) Word count: 2.17k Warnings: Lots of sports talk, Mentions of alcohol consumption, and tension😏

24 Hours before The World Series 

The stage was set: Atlanta Braves vs. Houston Astros. And believe me, I was ready.

I let out a deep breath as I racked the bar on the squat rack. Working out always seemed to calm my nerves before a big game, especially this one.

I sat down on the beach and took a sip from my water bottle. Part of my brain hadn’t fully processed the fact that tomorrow was the biggest game of my career, while the other part was trying to focus and get into the zone.

“Hercules! Hercules! Hercules!” my mom called out, quoting The Nutty Professor while clapping her hands.

Looking over my shoulder, I shook my head and laughed. “Morning, Ma.”

“Good morning, sweetheart! Breakfast is ready,” she said, leaning against the doorway.

“You didn't have to; I was going to grab something before—” I started to say, but she cut me off.

“You know how I am,” she waved her hand. “Come on upstairs and eat before the pancakes get cold.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

After a fantastic breakfast made by Mom—something I'm sure my trainer will have a few words about later—I walked onto the field for practice. The familiar scents of fresh paint and damp dirt filled the air.

Practice felt different today and in a good way. Everyone was pushing themselves just a little harder, and smiles were on everyone's faces; rightfully so, considering tomorrow is the World Series—who wouldn't be excited?

Walking into the media room for what could possibly be my final time, I took a seat and quickly greeted everyone in the room.

“Sierra, how are the nerves less than 24 hours away from the World Series?” the first reporter asked.

I took a breath before answering. “Pretty good! I won’t lie and say I’m not nervous, because that would be a lie. But the right kind of nerves are good.”

“The last time you all played against the Astros, you lost a three-game series. Are you confident that you can beat them?” another reporter inquired.

Confident? Man, please.

“We don’t have any other choice but to beat them. I am confident that we’ve learned from our mistakes, and we will win,” I replied with conviction. 

Once again, Mom commandeered my kitchen for dinner, but honestly, I can't complain. There's something comforting about her culinary prowess that makes the house feel warm and inviting.

Later that evening, as I settled down to unwind, I scrolled through Instagram when a notification caught my eye. I had been tagged in a video posted by the Bengals, and my curiosity piqued. Tapping on the notification, Joe's familiar face filled my screen, a snippet from his press conference earlier that day.

“The World Series starts tomorrow. Do you plan on watching?” a reporter asked, his voice steady with anticipation.

“Yeah, I do. Got to watch my girl get the win,” Joe replied, a wide grin lighting up his face.

Wait a minute—did he just say “my girl”? 

It struck me like a bolt of lightning. We hadn't even been on a date yet, let alone discussed any labels or commitments, yet here he was, claiming me in front of the world.

Possessive? Yes. But I have to admit, I liked it.

World Series Game 1

Today is the day: Game 1 of the World Series.

Waking up felt different today. Getting dressed felt different. Even having my hair and makeup done felt different. Everything feels different, but not in a bad way—more like, this is my moment.

As I walk into the ballpark, I find myself not really paying attention to the cameras. My focus is on the game ahead of me, and I’m also trying not to trip in these heels. I see why I don’t wear them often—they hurt!

But that pain quickly faded away when the first pitch of the game was thrown.

Two teams will play between 4 to 7 games, all for one prize: the Commissioner’s Trophy. This is the World Series.

Game 1 is in the books. Unfortunately, we didn't secure a win, but that's okay; you win some, you lose some. The score was 4-8.

In Game 2, we bounced back with a blowout victory of 7-0.

Game 3 saw us lose home-field advantage, but we still managed to win in Houston, finishing with a score of 4-1.

In Game 4, Houston gained some momentum and narrowly won by one run, with a final score of 6-5.

Game 5 went into extra innings, but we pulled through and got the job done, ending with a score of 10-9.

In Game 6, the Astros clinched a victory with a grand slam, keeping their World Series hopes alive. The final score was 8-7.

Now, we find ourselves back in Atlanta for the last game of the series. As of right now, my nerves are on edge because, in this game, every hit counts, every out matters, and most importantly, every score matters.

It all comes down to this pivotal moment. The stadium is electric as I stand at the bottom of the 9th inning, two outs secured, with a runner perched on second base. With the score hanging in the balance at 8-7 against us, the weight of the situation bears down heavily on my shoulders.

I know exactly what I need to do: connect solidly with the ball and drive it deep into the outfield, giving the runner a chance to dash home. Easy, right? Just a casual swing in front of 31,000 fervent fans who are all hoping for a miracle.

Stepping into the batter's box, I adjust my helmet and take a deep breath, trying to drown out the cacophony of cheering and chanting that envelops Truist Park. The familiar strains of "It's A Man's World" echo in my ears, heightening my focus as I mentally prepare for what lies ahead.

I set my stance, feeling the cool air against my skin, and lock eyes with the pitcher on the mound. He’s a seasoned player, his demeanor calm, yet I can sense the tension rippling through him as he glances briefly at the runner on second before facing me again. With a swift motion, he winds up and launches his pitch toward me.

I tighten my grip on the bat and, as the ball approaches, I make the decision to check my swing. I hold back just in time, watching the ball sail past me — it’s a ball, one count, no strikes. I exhale slowly, mentally recalibrating for the next pitch.

Gathering my concentration again, I position myself for what could be my final chance. The pitcher goes through his routine again, taking a moment to check the runner’s position before propelling the ball towards me once more.

This time, I hold my breath as I watch the projectile race toward the plate. I swing my bat with everything I’ve got, the wood making solid contact with the ball. The sound is explosive, resonating like a whip crack through the air, sending a thrill through my veins.

As I adjust my stance, I see the ball soaring into the sky, arcing beautifully as it heads toward the outfield. It continues its ascent, disappearing over the stadium's walls and splashing into the waterfall display that adds to the ambiance of this incredible venue.

In that exhilarating moment, it hits me: we just won the World Series.

Holy shit… WE JUST WON THE WORLD SERIES!

In an adrenaline-fueled rush, I slam my bat to the ground, the echo of victory reverberating in my ears as I begin my journey around the bases. The stadium erupts in a deafening roar — fireworks burst overhead, illuminating the night sky, while the crowd erupts with cheers and shouts, a collective celebration of triumph.

Tossing my helmet aside, I approach home plate, my heart racing as my teammates swarm me the instant I touch it. They envelop me in a chaotic celebration, screaming and jumping in unison, pure joy radiating from every face.

This is the pinnacle of my dreams, a moment I’ve envisioned since I was just a nine-year-old girl playing wiffle ball in my backyard with my uncle. From being the only girl on the high school baseball team to earning a full-ride scholarship at LSU, and culminating in winning the state championship, this moment eclipses them all: winning the World Series.

God. 

is. 

good. 

Every ounce of hard work, every sacrifice, every moment of doubt pales in comparison to the realization of this dream. I stand amidst the celebration, grateful, overwhelmed, and utterly elated. This is why I play.

After a whirlwind of interviews followed by a bear bath celebration, a refreshing shower, and an energetic afterparty, I finally stepped back into the comforting embrace of my home. 

“Thanks again, Kyle,” I called out, watching as he made his way back toward the elevator, his figure illuminated by the soft hallway lights. 

“No problem, sleep well,” he replied, flashing a warm smile before disappearing behind the elevator doors. The best driver in the world, hands down.

With a sigh of relief, I unlocked my front door and crossed the threshold, the familiar scent of home washing over me. I locked the door behind me and, with a gentle thud, dropped my duffle bag right at the entrance, mentally promising myself I’d unpack it tomorrow—or, more likely, later today. All I craved was the soft cocoon of my bed, a well-deserved sanctuary after such a long day.

As I rounded the corner toward my room, I noticed a sliver of light cutting through the darkness—the kitchen light glowed unexpectedly. I furrowed my brow, certain I hadn’t left it on. Perhaps my mom had flicked it on before heading out to the airport. 

Curiosity piqued, I padded softly toward the kitchen, only to be met with an utterly unexpected sight: a strikingly handsome quarterback, standing 6’3” with tousled hair and piercing blue eyes, casually leaning against my counter like he owned the place.

“Surprise,” he said, an amused smirk playing on his lips.

A smile broke across my face as I shook my head in disbelief. “Surprise indeed,” I replied, the warmth of his presence igniting a flutter of happiness in my chest.

“C'mere,” Joe beckoned, his arms outstretched, inviting me into a hug that felt both familiar and incredibly grounding. 

I stepped into his embrace, surrendering to the moment as he nestled a tender kiss on the top of my head. “Proud of you,” he murmured, his breath warm against my hair.

Emotions swelled within me, and I simply nodded, overwhelmed by his kindness. 

Joe pulled back slightly, his gaze searching mine, an edge of concern etching his features. “You okay?”

Looking up at him, I nodded, a smile slipping out as I exhaled. “Yeah,” I breathed, “Just really, really happy—and maybe a little drunk,” I chuckled, the effects of the evening buzzing in my system. “When did you get here?”

“About an hour ago,” Joe replied, his tone laced with both excitement and regret. “Today starts my bye week, and I figured, why not surprise you? Just wish I could have been here to see you win,” he added a bittersweet note in his voice.

“It’s okay, you’re here now, and that’s all that matters to me,” I reassured him, my eyes drifting from the depth of his gaze to the inviting curve of his lips, only to return to his eyes—intensely captivating.

Ugh, why did he have to look so kissable? Damn you, vodka!

A comfortable silence enveloped us, a fragile moment stretched between us, thick with unspoken words and electric tension. 

Clearing his throat, Joe broke the stillness, “Come on, you look like you might pass out,” he teased gently, nodding toward my bedroom. It was true; the exhaustion was pulling at me, whispering sweet nothings of sleep. So, without resisting, I unwound myself from his embrace and began the trek to my room, Joe following closely behind.

I couldn’t tell if it was the lingering alcohol buzzing through my veins or the undeniable desires I felt, but the need to be close to him was intoxicating. In his arms, everything felt perfectly right.

Groaning as I woke up to the bright Atlanta sun shining in my eyes, I pulled the blanket over my head to block out some of the light. I really need to invest in blackout curtains.

Eventually, I decided it was time to get up and start my day.

But as I opened the door, I heard a noise coming from the living room. Is that the TV?

Curiosity got the better of me, and I walked into the living room.

“Morning, sweetheart,” 

@enretrogue @hoodharlow

[gojinka]

🚧 I’m carny, (he/him, 19) but feel free to call me WorldSewage, World, Sewage, Gatored, any other iteration of it, as long as I know you’re talking about me. This is a side account!

Click read more and scroll to the ⚠️ section for a FAQ!

Some of my content WILL be suggestive. Please block #suggestive (or maybe even nsfw?) if you’re uncomfortable with this content! I can’t imagine that I’ll ever be drawing sexually explicit (exposed genitalia) nsfw content but block the tags NSFW just in case…

AU content will be rolled out slowly, I am not a very fast artist, but my ask box will always remain open, so feel free to ask questions (chances are it will be answered! Albeit slowly!)

I love my mutuals, do not be afraid to talk to me! I can’t promise I’ll be super chatty, but I want it to be known that I love a good conversation. I don’t know how to convey this so often I wind up drawing your characters.

If you bastards open up a white board, @ me! I want to join! (Joking)

Homerun Au / ABOUT ME / extra art / info under the cut! 📌

My agents:

Alligator : (she/her)

Saint : (they/them)

Valentine : (they/them) (and she/her? But sparingly, they’d prefer if you would begin with they/them, you can ease into she / her.)

July : (they/them)

My tags are formatted pretty clearly, but just in case:

Homerun au - pertains to all information / art that takes place in this au, my agents are all designed to fit into this au— BUT, can be viewed as canon compliant if you want :]

Most of my character tags are formatted like “Name ( thing they are )” — (examples: “saint (Neo 3) , fido (oc) , carny (sona) , valentine (agent 8) )

Carnying - off topic posts , I don’t usually vent publicly , but most of my rambling will probably be under this tag. I also tag off topic (ie non splatoon asks) with carnying at times.

EMERGENCY EXIT - name of my Splatoon Idol ocs, I still tag their names, but this is the name of the group.

My art - is my art tag… I usually always tag the characters featured in my art.

Doodles - a not very often used tag… I use it for WIPs or joke drawings sometimes? I forget this tag exists frequently … I do use it for WIPS.

Salmonids/Octarians/Inkling tags - usually for world building or headcannons…!

⚠️ I draw on JSPAINT or on Procreate: I use primarily custom brushes.

⚠️ catch me on my Main account— @gatored , and for warrior cats content: @rendside

⚠️ here’s my artfight to those who are interested! https://artfight.net/~Gatored

⚠️ I don’t currently have a toyhouse, when I make one, I’ll link it here!

⚠️ I do not take commissions (currently.)

⚠️ I don’t know how I pick colors, I just do. I would like to make a tutorial some say, but I have no idea what I’m doing!

⚠️ art requests are ok! I’m willing to do art trades, but as of right now, I am unavailable:)

⚠️ I’m okay with fan art! Please just don’t be weird! I’m okay with oc interaction fanart but only with my splatoon ocs!!

⚠️ Please mind the ages of my characters, any inappropriate comments made towards characters who are children / depicted as children (ie. Characters who are 18+ but in the post are under age) will be killed.

⚠️ He/Him. Refrain from using “they” to the best of your ability… I’m 19– January birthday, year of the rooster. I’m the guy who draws the bipedal salmonids.

⚠️ I work in the kitchen and get paid minimum wage and I love my job and life to bits, I am not a “professional” artist, but I work quite a bit, so my drawing time isn’t very long.

⚠️ I don’t believe DNIs work, but let it be known AI / transphobes / unsolicited critiques will be blocked. I abuse the block button, at times.

⚠️ feel free to tag me! I don’t mind! If you have questions Asks are the best way! I don’t respond often to Direct Messages.

⚠️ you are required to compare my art to various foods. (Joke. but I will smile big if you do this)

——

🥩— I can’t promise I’ll update the below as of posting this (3/6/23) so please check out the “HOMERUN AU” tag for all information, but here are some quick links for those interested!

I know this au MAY seem a tad confusing, but I’m updating it as I go!

Homerun World Building: X — X

SQUIDSISTERS X — Evil Callie + “MUD” — 🐙Octavio

DEEPCUT: “Return of the Mammalians” (designs) (designs + small information) (bigman comic)

[anomaly-hivemind]

Collar ID || collaring w/Yuri Briar x Afab! Reader

Kinktober Masterlist

Word Count: 1609

Tags: dom! reader, POC reader,flogging, latex, cock stepping, groveling, cunnilingus, vaginal fingering, degradation, praise kink, squirting

I was sitting in bed, bonnet on snuggly , with a can of fruit in hand. Watching some random comedy horror that I found on netflix. It was only to pass the time while I waited for my boyfriend. It was around the usual time that Yuri would be on his way home if nothing came up. I scroll a bit on my phone when I get a notification from Yuri.

“Gonna be a bit late coming home, I got a bit of paperwork I want to finish. “ The message read and I let out an annoyed sigh. I don’t feel like waiting for him to finish work because I know that just means he's not going to get home until I was long asleep. I smile, as a mischievous idea comes to mind.

I take my oversized top off, my naked breast getting the blunt of the cold air from this bedroom. I lay on my stomach and posed so that my butt was in the view of my camera. I push my tits together and set my timer so I can take a photo. When the picture was taken I sent it to Yuri.

“Can't wait for you my pet, I miss you ;]” I sent the message right after the photo and waited.

Read.

Wow this was my breaking point. He couldn’t even dignify my unadulterated sexyness with a whiny emoji or anything!

I dropped my phone on the bed and went to my closet. I pushed past my regular clothes to where all my lingerie was. Silk was soft, coquette, not the vibe I was looking for. Lace? No, no it still had an air of delicacy.

Here, perfect. Latex. I hadn’t worn this set before. I smirk as I slip into the snug latex body suit. The suit hugged my curves tightly, had a boob window, the back out and the crotch exposed. If anything, it was a shame, I didn’t wear it as often. I sent Yuri another photo this time in my bodysuit.

“I don't appreciate you leaving me to read ):( ” I text him, and again get left on read but faster this time. What the hell is he doing?

A few minutes pass and the house opens and an out of breath boyfriend walks into the house. Yuri walks over to me with a desperate look on his face, his strong grip on my shoulders.

“I’m so sorry baby,” Yuri dropped to his knees and kissed me on my neck.

“I’ll only give you a light punishment since you came home earlier than normal.” I kept a straight face even if his kisses felt good.

“You're still gonna punish me… but I came home early.” yuri whined as he tried to give me the puppy dog eyes. Too bad for him that shit hardly works on me.

“Maybe if you beg for my entire forgiveness I'll let you go.” I smirk, my words were a set up and I'm sure he knows it. But that doesn’t matter, he was going to do what I said anyway.

Yuri dropped to his knees in front of me, he leaned down and placed a kiss on my foot. A smile grows on my face as he does, I stare at his cute butt. He looked out at me and I could see the lust in his eyes. I moved down to sit on our bed, he started to kiss up from the ankle to my upper calf.

“Strip.” I lean over to a drawer beside the and up out a dog collar, my eyes never leaving Yuri. I watch with a smile as he slowly takes off his uniform. I clip the collar around his neck, the cold dog tags make his skin shiver. He was shirtless and was making his way out his pants. He was hunched over in his boxers, his erection twitching and was practically begging for my attention. I pressed my foot against his crotch, giving his cock a light shove. He let out a little whine that made my cunt throb. I tilt his chin up so that he is looking up at me.

“So do you have something to tell me, pet?” I hold his face in place, squishing his cheeks slightly.

“I’m sorry….”

“For?” my toes pinch his balls and he tenses up, the dog tags of his collar jigging as he moves.

“Leaving you on read?” I nod.

“And” I ran my hand through his hair.

“Always co-coming home late.”

“Good boy, What do you think I should do now? Forgive you or pushish you?” my smirk grew a bit as i already knew what my little freak would say.

“My love, please forgive me, I want to taste you” he shuffled a bit closer, pushing my foot harder against his weeping dick. He whimpered from the pressure but I wasn’t going to cave. I could feel his dick growing harder under my foot and pressed my hut down harder.

“You would like that wouldn't you.” I adjusted the strap of my latex bodysuit, loosening the strings so I could move it better as I pleased. I put more pressure on his cloth cock practically stepping on him and he groaned.

“Please, my love…” Yuri moaned breathlessly.

“No. You won’t tempt me, you seducer, and I’m sick that you keep trying to get out of your punishments.

“But-“

“Hush, Pet, now bend over. I’ve had enough of this disrespect.

Yuri gulped hard, “Yes ma’am,”

Yuri walked over to the storage drawers in the closet and pulled out. A leather flog, I rubber by thumb over the braided handle of the flog I make sure to pull him fully out of his boxers.

“Baby, please.” he pouts and holds back a whimper.

“You better keep count or I'm going to start over, nut i guess I slut like you would like that.” I swing the flog over his asscheek.

“One…” Yuri made sure to say through his yelp. We repeat this fourteen other times before I'm somewhat satisfied to stop. Yuri had hot adorable tears threatening to drop down his face, it would almost make me feel bad if I hadn't known how much he enjoyed this.

He had his tell-tell signs; like how his dick was pretty much begging to cum or how he tried to hold back moans and groans with each solid impact I made on his body.

“Okay now if you can make me cum I’ll forgive your little behavior,” I said, placing one hand on my hip and the other soothingly rubbing Yuri‘s ass.

“Yes ma’am,” Yuri said, straightening up.

I laid back on the bed, spreading my legs open to expose my glistening pussy. Yuri inches closer, I could feel his breath on my folds.

“Go ahead, I know a loose man like yourself is dying without your fix,” I said and without hesitation Yuri dived in.

His tongue runs a slow stride to my clit, he was savoring the taste as he let out a pleased murmur. He was slurping up my juices like he didn't drink anything in months. Lapping up my arousal like he was on a mission and knowing my lover boy, he definitely sees this as such. He was a military man after all, working for the police and such.

But none of that was really important right now. I was too busy feeling the great action of Yuri sliding his fingers into my wetness. The way he curled his digits against my walls, made me fall back onto the bed and let out a moan. He alway knew how to get me going, how to push me closer and near to the edge. I could feel him smirk against my cunt and I pulled his hair in a quick yank that made him moan.

Yuri starts to focus more on my clit, making sharp circles on the nub, and long sucks that make my toes curl. His fingers thrusted onto my spot and I let out a short cry, he was going to make me cum any second now.

The feeling was winding up in my core, a coil ready to snap at any moment.

“You’re such a good slut, isn't that right?” I asked, running my fingers through Yuri’s hair. He hummed, against my muff the soft vibrations traveling through the mound of flesh..

As Yuri’s fingers stroked my g-spot and he sucked on my clit, something finally snapped. Warm fluid gushed from my pussy making a mess on Yuri’s face but like a good pet he lapped it up, and licked off what ran down my folds. My hips bucked from the sensitivity of having just cum, into the air and subsequently against Yuri’s face.

“Fuck. That was good.” I said breathlessly, my body sliding down so I was laying down more than sitting up.

“Does that mean all is forgiven… Ma’am” Yuri asked with his pathetic boy slut face.

“Fine, I forgive you now. But if you do that shit again I'll come up with a way harsher punishment. Understand. “ I said sternly even if I was a bit out of breath my point came across the way it was supposed to be and that's all that mattered.

“Yes ma'am.” he nods and licks his lips off my juices.

“Good now, come up here, I want to cuddle.” I pull him into a hug as soon as he gets close enough to fall into my grasp.

[angel-selfshipper]

❝𝐃α𝗋ᥣ𝗂𐓣𝗀, 𝐓ɦ𝗂𝗌 ωⱺ𝗋ᥣᑯ 𝗂𝗌 𝗍ⱺⱺ 𝖼𝗋υ𝖾ᥣ 𝖿ⱺ𝗋 𝗒ⱺυ 𝗍ⱺ ᑲ𝖾 𝗌ⱺ 𝗄𝗂𐓣ᑯ... ❞

𝓘𝓷𝓯𝓸𝓻𝓶𝓪𝓽𝓲𝓸𝓷

♱ Do not interact... Pedo, (No)Map, racist, xenophobic, anti blm, LGBT+phobic, transphobic, transmed, truscum, radfem, terf, anti neopronouns, anti xenogenders, sexist, misogynistic, ableist, anti proship, pro censorship, pro harassment, you think fiction affects reality, you harass people instead of just blocking them.

♱ Before you follow... Many of my self ships contain elements that could be seen as comship // darkship, this does not mean that I condone any of these actions being repeated anywhere outside of fictional spaces however. If you are uncomfortable with these topics yet still wish to nicely interact I'd be happy to talk about some of my less problematic ships with you.

𝓔𝓽𝓲𝓺𝓾𝓮𝓽𝓽𝓮

♱ Liking... Spam liking is totally welcome on my blog! Feel free to scroll through and like everything I’ve ever posted—In fact I’d be incredible honored if you did!

♱ Asks... My ask box is always open for questions, comments, f/o gushes, or even just a friendly hello. Don’t be shy to come interact with me, I'm not as scary as I might appear.

♱ Tone tags... Due to me being AuDHD among other things, I often miss social cues and would very much appreciate it if you used tone tags when talking to me!

♱ Mutuals... I love having a ton of mutuals and will almost always follow back if you happen to follow me first! Some of my favorite mutuals include: @i-put-the-s4p-in-s4pphic @yumesei @great-tusk @marmhuney @ofironandivory @snow-white-ravens @daikioma

𝓘𝓷𝓽𝓻𝓸𝓭𝓾𝓬𝓽𝓲𝓸𝓷

♱ Angel ◇ They/Them ◇ Minor (HS) ◇ Aroaceflux

❤︎ Selfshipping has been a special part of my life since I was about six years old, though I didn’t have a proper name for it back then! (Feel free to ask about my first unofficial f/o that I may or may not still be attached to)

❤︎ This isn’t my first time running a self-ship blog actually! I used to run one under the URL @/Cozycore-selfshipper. I deleted it and took a short break due to personal reasons, but now I’m back and so excited to reconnect with this amazing community :3

❤︎ My full f/o list can be found here !!

❤︎ My f/o wheel can be found here !!

❤︎ My StrawPage can be found here !!

𝓒𝓾𝓻𝓻𝓮𝓷𝓽 𝓜𝓪𝓲𝓷𝓼

♱ Are you wondering which one of my fictional others has stolen my heart as of recently? Look below to find out!

❤︎ Hobie brown // ˚₊‧꒰ა hobie 🧷 ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

𝓣𝓪𝓰𝓰𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝓢𝔂𝓼𝓽𝓮𝓶

♱ For personal reasons I don't use the same type of tagging system that many people on proselfship Tumblr use. Instead of that my blog uses individual tags for each one of my s/i's and f/o's as seen bellow.

❤︎ Self insert tag // ˚₊‧꒰ა s/i name (emoji) ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

❤︎ Fictional other tag // ˚₊‧꒰ა f/o name (emoji) ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

[darklydeliciousdesires]

Burn Bright White - Chapter Five.

Thanks to my lovely Diana and Lindsey for their enthusiasm, as always <3

Previous Chapters - One Two Three Four

Tag list - In the comments. DM to be added/removed

Words - 2,513

Warnings - 18+ content, minors DNI! Also, while I have tried to remain as true to how Niklas is in reality as I can, I have to have a little creative freedom of my own with him in this. If you don’t like it, simply scroll on by. Bitching isn’t tolerated here. At all. Remember, it’s fiction, not a documentary ;) It’s also worth mentioning that while Taissa has qualities of being quite charming at times, she is not, by any means, a good person.

After returning to the bar, she headed inside to wash the blood from her hands and tidy herself a little, buying another round. Sitting there, still buzzing from her altercation, it was violence they found themselves discussing firstly. She firstly learned he had a background in martial arts, but the way he delivered answers to some of her questions, well, it was certainly unique. 

He was, at times, the conversational equivalent of a broken sat nav; he could never get from point A to B without several detours, more often than not never even arriving at point B at all. Of course, she’d witnessed that in him, watching him being interviewed, knowing it was a mixture likely borne of his desire to be vague when it suited him, and surprisingly candid when it didn’t.  

“I have my father to thank for my temperamental streak,” she began, lighting a cigarette and knocking the pack across the table to him. “He always said to me, ‘Tai, you were blessed with your mother’s looks, but cursed with her small stature. But it is no matter. I will show how to be tiny, yet mighty’, and he did.” 

Niklas had indeed noticed that it was only her choice of footwear that made her tall, Taissa continuing. “He taught me how to shoot, wield knives and bare-knuckle fight. Well, when he wasn’t in prison, that is. I went from the piss-weak, skinny little kid to the one turning over the playground bullies for the money and trinkets they’d stolen from other kids fairly quickly.”  

They had a paternal common ground, it seemed. “Prison is where my father remains. He’s... well. I’m my father’s son, let’s put it that way. Except he’s much worse than I am.”  

“I think I’m probably at the same level as hostile as my dad when antagonised, except I’m not a Nazi and he is, unfortunately. I still adore him, though, that aside. He looks menacing, too. Imagine Zakk Wylde with a shaved head, but over two metres tall and covered in Neo-Nazi tattoos, and you have my papa.  

“Some might call it perverse that my taste in men is somewhat similar. I like a tall guy with more hair on his face than his head, covered in ink.” She paused, reaching to drag her finger in a slow glide down his cheek. “What’s scary to some is sexy fucking beast to me.”  

Turning his head, he bit her finger, sucking it into his mouth, Taissa’s eyes narrowing at him although a smile danced upon her lips. “What did I tell you about biting me, Kvarforth?” 

Releasing her finger, he looked mildly incredulous, reaching beneath her hair to stroke the purple bite at the side of her neck. “Bit late for that, isn’t it?”  

It jolted through her, the memory of his groan when he’d bitten her, the feel of his cock flooding her with cum as he’d pounded her against the hallway wall. The air seemed to crackle as they stared at one another, both in silent challenge of the other to look away first. 

“Did you say your apartment is two minutes away?”  

She nodded, her breath catching in her throat as desire began to lap in waves through her, remembering the heat of it, having him all over her. It didn’t help matters when his fingers began to glide across her neck, the touch chasing a herd of goose pimples over her skin. “Shall we go now?” 

He looked thoughtful for a moment, standing slowly. “No. I think I’ll make you wait for it a little longer first.” 

Bastard. That wasn’t to say she’d take it lying down, though. Well, eventually she would.  

“So, tell me. Why did you choose your career path, lucrative payoff aside?” he asked after returning from the bar, placing the bottle of Never Say Die bourbon he’d been requesting down on the table. There was just under a third left, and so as not to have to suffer being inside the bar any more than he absolutely had to, he’d talked the barmaid into selling him what remained.  

“I enjoy having that power over somebody. I have what they need, and I get to profit off of that. Much like you, I am not a people person, beyond what they can do for me. I live a very good life from their addiction, their weakness. This will never cease being thrilling to me.”  

Brutal honesty. He respected that. Seldom few were the same. 

“Before I started buying from your brother,” he began, Taissa rapidly shaking her head. 

“Me. You buy from me. I stand at the helm,” she interrupted. 

“From you,” he continued, “I used to buy from a man named Stefan. I think he was probably one of the most fantastically dark individuals I have ever known. He used to have one hell of a kink, engineering it so junkies would overdose and masturbating as he witnessed them die. I went with him once, but she didn’t fucking die. Shame, I’d have liked to witness that.” 

Taissa knew exactly what he was doing, seeing if he could force some kind of shock reaction from her. She gave none. “Did you hear how he died?” 

Curiosity piqued within him. “He’s dead? I assumed he’d been arrested when I could no longer reach him. That was usually the way when he went quiet.” 

“No, he did a Michael Hutchence. Died by autoerotic asphyxiation. He was found hanging in his bedroom, cock still hard, with a twelve-inch dildo suctioned onto the floor beneath him.”  

Niklas couldn’t help but laugh at that. “This does not surprise me in the slightest. That man propositioned me multiple times.” 

Her eyebrow raised. “And did you?” 

“No, men don’t do it for me,” he revealed, sipping his drink. “I am alas a fucking slave to what you women have between your legs.”  

“Alas?” she questioned, kicking off her shoe beneath the table, beginning to slowly slide her foot up his inner thigh. “Why is that?” 

“Because you are all cunning, terrible creatures.” His eyes flitted down, seeing her red-painted toes press into his crotch. “Case in point.”  

“Guilty as charged,” she shrugged, beginning to massage his cock with the ball of her foot. “But you like it.”  

Her assertion was correct, but he didn’t confirm, shifting in his seat a little as he felt himself beginning to harden. Fuck, this woman. Tempress didn’t cut it.  

Just then, the sound of gears being furiously crunched attracted their attention, both turning to see a car haphazardly shuddering up the street. At the same time, they shouted the exact same words. 

“Put it in H!” 

Niklas’s eyes snapped to her in an instant. A Simpsons fan. He rarely met them these days, it seemed. “So, not only can she quote The Simpsons, but she can recall the most obscure quotes, too. Interesting.” 

Taissa pointed to the car, the driver of which continuing to struggle. “She’ll go three hundred hectares on a single tank of kerosene.”  

He couldn’t help but begin laughing. Her impersonation of the Crazy Vaclav character was utterly perfect. “What country is this car from?” 

“It no longer exists.” They both fell into soft laughter at that, their little skit from the cartoon having them both feeling entertained.  

“I remember the first episode I ever saw, with Homer repeatedly falling down the cliff,” she reminisced, snorting with laughter. “I was about five, I think. My mother thought I was warped to find it so funny, but it’s the funniest moment for certain,” she spoke, Niklas yanking her foot away from his crotch and resting it on his thigh instead, idly playing with her toes.  

He clicked his fingers, pointing at her. “Agreed.” It was a strange juxtapose, two people who so revelled in the darker, more criminal side of life, both having an affinity for the iconic, light-hearted cartoon. “A close second is him losing it in episode based on The Shining. No TV and no beer make Homer go crazy.” 

She beamed, obliging him in continuation. “Don’t mind if I do!” Her enactment of Homer indeed going crazy had him booming with laughter, people turning to stare. It was utterly ridiculous, the black metal musician and the drug dealer, broken from the veneer of hardness surrounding them, as well as their mental and sexual teasing by the reciting of a kid’s cartoon.  

He topped up their glasses with the last of the bourbon, pulling out a cigarette and lighting it, offering her one, too. All while his other hand preoccupied itself with her foot. 

“How are you enjoying my toes?” 

Looking down at the dainty foot, he then stared at her intently. “I’ll be enjoying them much more when they’re in my mouth.”  

Oooh, the wink he followed those words with. Her pussy clenched in an instant. “Got a thing for feet, hmm?” 

A thing was putting it mildly. “You could say that. Feet, feet in high heels, in nylons. Legs in nylons. My fetishes are well-documented.” Running his index finger down the centre of her foot, he rotated it a few times before returning it to tickle over her toes. “What are your fetishes?” 

“Money and power.” 

He raised an eyebrow. “I meant sexual, and you know that I did.” 

“Who said money and power can’t be sexual?” Watching him, she knew from his lowered gaze, the expectance in his eyes, that he wouldn’t accept that. Well, if there was ever a time to tease a little more... “Having the weight of a man on me, feeling pinned, being held down. I’m boss in every aspect of my life, and I rarely deviate in the bedroom. Sometimes, though, I like to submit.”  

She certainly had when he’d picked her up and fucked her against his hallway wall. Then again, with the sexual force of nature that was Niklas, she’d had little choice.  

The information shared was met by a look of appreciation, his glass lifted, the contents sunk in one gulp. “Drink up, and I can make that happen for you.” 

Pulling her foot from his grasp, she slid it in a slow glide down his leg, looking out from beneath her long lashes at him. Picking up the glass, she made a show of licking her lips before tipping the warming bourbon down her throat, slipping her foot back into her shoe. “Let’s go.”  

Time seemed to move slowly as they walked to the end of the row, turning the corner, Taissa keying in her code on the front door. It felt like a storm brewing, the heat gathering thickly as they stepped into the elevator, heading three floors up, the air becoming heavy, glances stolen, the anticipation creeping over them like a fog.  

Putting the key in her door, she felt him sweep her hair from her neck, teeth biting down, the pin pricks of pain melting like icicles trickling down her spine, turning to pull him to her level and kiss him with ferocity. He herded her backwards, lifting her with ease, the open plan of the large space meaning he didn’t need to inquire over bedroom location. Clothes were shed en route, their bodies hitting the bed, mouths locked together as he pinned her beneath his weight, taking her wrists in an encircled grip and pressing them either side of her head.  

“How’s that?”  

How was that? Enough to feel the petals of her cunt begin to become slick for him, Taissa transfixed at watching the blue of his eyes almost eclipsed entirely by rapidly inking pupils. “Amazing, but it can wait.” Pulling from the grip, she pressed her hands to his chest, pushing him off of her and back to his feet. “Right now, there’s not much I need more than your cock in my mouth.”  

He hummed a chuckle, raising an eyebrow as his hand tangled in her hair, giving it a short, sharp tug. “I’m not about to stop... that.”  

The pause between words couldn’t be helped, his breath hitching, watching himself vanish completely between her full lips. She kept him swallowed back, her mouth pulsing around the very base of his cock a few times, tongue flickering the underside before slowly gliding back up his shaft. Just that, and she already had him mindless. The feel of her nails scraping down his sides only added to it. 

“Fuck,” he whispered, chest shuddering, transfixed at the sight, his hand tightening in her hair again sharply. “You look even prettier, choking on my cock.” 

Pushing further into her throat, he triggered her gag reflex, Taissa releasing him to spit on his shaft, pumping it with her hand thereafter, tongue gliding over the tip. It made lightning begin to flicker at the base of his spine, roughly forcing himself back between her lips again, grunting quietly when her fingers began to pinch and twist at one of his nipples.  

“Oh, even though it’s a little late, you’d better not fucking have herpes or anything else nasty. I’ll fucking cut your balls off if you do,” she spoke, sucking the head of his cock, Niklas laughing through his nose. He didn’t doubt she would. 

“Surprisingly, I actually don’t. I got forced into an STI test recently, so I know I’m fine.” 

She paused, her eyebrow fluttering. “Forced?” 

“Mm,” he hummed, watching himself disappear in her mouth once more. “If you bareback two patients in the same mental facility as you within the space of forty-eight hours, they make you get tested.” 

“Animal,” she quipped, turning her head to bite the side of his hip. 

“I have a feeling that is exactly what you like about me.” He wasn’t wrong, Taissa returning her mouth to his cock and once again, making him vanish. Fuck, she was too good at sucking dick, Niklas feeling himself beginning to ascend quite rapidly, fingers weaving tighter in her hair as he began to fuck her mouth, his chest starting to rise and fall more rapidly.  

Feeling him becoming firmer within her mouth gave her the most delicious little shocks of excitement, becoming dewier at her apex, imagining how it would soon feel to have him inside her, her arousal glowing like moonbeams through the very depths of her.  

That gathered excitement spurred her mouth quicker upon him, her tongue teases becoming more potent, Niklas’s hand still clutched hard upon her hair. His gravelly groans became more frequent, her lips tightening, oh, so tight around him, pleasure skittering over his tremble-wracked body.   

The embers began to crackle, glowing, ever nearing bursting into flame, Taissa sensing it, speeding her mouth up until she felt him pulsing between her lips, shooting his load onto her tongue with a guttural grunt as his hips swayed forward, swallowing back every last hot spurt. 

“Sufficiently ruined?” 

The look he gave her was all darkened lust, pushing her back on the bed, yanking her legs up and taking one of her feet, sucking her toes with a groan. “No. Trust me, though. You’re about to be.”  

She could barely wait. 

[regal-rosebuds]

Hello again. This is a past anonymous. I'm sorry for constantly bothering you here (if that's the case). I mean, since I'm new here, I ask quite a lot of questions, even banal ones. Of course, I try to figure everything out with the help of independent searches, but it doesn't always work out so well, alas. So, I just wanted to know. You have some special blogs (you know the same regressors, maybe dreamers, educators) and special people with whom you have already established close contact in this… Is it a community, if that's what you can call it? I understand that this can be quite personal information, so if it's too much, then you don't have to answer. It's just that because I'm new and I keep coming across different places, posts, blogs, even in my searches, but I don't really know how to do it… to start… Are there acquaintances here? I'm sorry if it sounded crumpled, I honestly don't know how to express my thought more clearly and clearly.

It can also send a double message, I'm sorry if that happens.

ꔫ No worries!! No need to apologize, my blog is here to answer questions like these! Don’t feel like a bother when you’re just trying to learn.

ꔫ Maybe you want to use an emote signifier so I’ll know it’s you each time!

ꔫ But I digress.

ꔫ Many of my friends in agere or carers are people who I already knew elsewhere but taught about regression. I have met a good few friends from agere discord servers though!

ꔫ I used to be really active in the regression discord community, but it got a bit stressful with my other life factors.

ꔫ As far as Tumblr goes, I don’t have many, if any, close friends on here! Much of my posting is replying to randoms. I do have a few mutuals, but I don’t often go out of my way to become mutuals with others or talk very often with them simply because I’m not too educated on how that part of Tumblr culture works!

ꔫ TL;DR I’m pretty much flying as solo as you are!

ꔫ People like you with kind messages or likes or reblogs are pretty much the only way I know that my posts are coherent!

ꔫ For me, it was better to create an agere lifestyle off of social media with the help of close friends. That way you have an anchor and kind of know what content you’re interested in/looking for.

ꔫ When I’m not posting here, I’m just scrolling through tags or being taken care of by my Knights while I’m regressed.

ꔫ It’s best not to over complicate it in my opinion!

ꔫ P.S. it is 5 am, so sorry if some of my sentences don’t make complete sense!

[glitxhwayventeen]

The Smart One: Part One

Yeonjun

Characters: Yeonjun x female reader

Warnings: mentions of- violence, death, drinking, smoking, sleeping around (but it’s all consensual so i don’t see a problem with it. But i know some people do so TW ig), name calling (but they don’t actually mean it and none of them think they do, they’re loving nicknames), crying, pining/angsty love, Yeonjun being dumb basically poor baby

Author’s Note: Ahhh so I’m back. I hope no one’s too made i started a new addition to the werewolf/college universe but i really think these stories are gonna be nice and get me excited to start writing again so here’s to hoping! Let me know if anyone wants to be added to the tag list for any of the characters!

Please remember that all of these chapters and the content within them are a work of fiction! They’re just for fun/entertainment!

There Will Be Blood Masterlist

The Smart One: Part Two, Part Three, Part Four

🥀

Bold- Dialogue Italics- Thoughts

Tag list-

Yeonjun never understood his brothers. He never understood half of the weird shit they did. He never understood their constant need to be around one another. And he certainly never understood why they were so eager to find their mates.

So naturally, when he was sat on the living room couch scrolling through his phone out of boredom and suddenly heard the pup of their pack arguing with their alpha over what their future mates must be like at the kitchen table, he couldn’t help but roll his eyes.

“Hyung, there’s no way you’ll get a mate that’s like you,” Kai reasoned with a dry chuckle, “That relationship could never last! Two control freaks don’t make for a happy couple!”

“Surprised you could do that much math,” Soobin scoffed semi-bitterly at his younger brother, “In fact, you better hope yours has half a brain because you’re too dumb to not have someone looking out for you for the rest of your life!”

Everyone in the pack knew that the youngest in the pack wasn’t always the smartest when it came to basic schooling and common sense. Hell, the only reason they found him and added him to the pack in the first place was because he had somehow managed to piss off a group of fifth graders who began chasing him, a high school senior, down the eldest’s home street.

So Yeonjun knew the alpha wasn’t entirely wrong for insinuating Kai probably needed a mate with a solid head on their shoulders. But that didn’t mean that he thought the boy was stupid.

He actually thought he was quite bright when he wanted to be. In fact, the eldest often even went to the pup for some sound advice when needed because he knew he had an incredibly high emotional intellegence for someone so young.

Huening just wasn’t all that book smart. But so what? Yeonjun himself couldn’t necessarily say he was either. He loathed school and his grades were a perfect reflection of his feelings. He couldn’t even count how many classes he flunked on one hand anymore. But that didn’t mean he was stupid or dumb. He just… didn’t do well in school. Obviously that meant he wouldn’t waste his time or energy trying.

Kai on the other hand very much cared about doing a good job at school. He was a people pleaser and an overachiever, two personality traits Yeonjun didn’t envy him for having.

The youngest of their pack worked tirelessly to get his grades to something his parents would consider to be an acceptable score. He found himself people willing to tutor him, spent countless hours at the library at their shared university, and even mapped himself out a schedule that was dedicated to maximizing his study efforts. It was evident to anyone with eyes that he was working his butt off.

So part of him did think what the alpha said was a bit of a low blow. It probably even hurt the youngest’s feelings, not that he’d ever show it.

But part of Yeonjun also thought that the topic at hand they were arguing about was a stupid topic to argue about to begin with.

“I can take care of myself you know hyung,” Huening insisted.

You see, Yeonjun didn’t like the idea of mates. He didn’t like the idea of signing away everything that made them themselves to some stranger their weird werewolf instincts told them they would have to love forever. He didn’t like the idea that his brothers were all trying as hard as they were to find theirs.

And he sure as shit didn’t agree with wanting to give up the lifestyle he had gotten used to over the years just because his dumb wolfy brain would be too obsessed with some innocent unsuspecting human to think straight.

Soobin snickered, “You literally wouldn’t be able to tie your shoes if it weren’t for us but whatever Huening.”

Because who would want to be tied down like that? Who would want to have to answer to some random person for the rest of their life that something as ridiculous as fate set them up with? Who would want a life that basically took away everyone in the situation’s free will and personal choices? Not Yeonjun, that’s for sure.

“That was one time!” Kai groaned with a theatrical throw of his hands in the air, “And it was only because I couldn’t find my contacts hyung!”

At that point in his younger brothers’ conversation, Yeonjun had pretty much tuned them out. Not that he could help it, they’re the ones who got his brain stuck on a topic he otherwise wouldn’t have given five seconds of his time to. Now because of them, his brain was laser focused on what finding a mate would mean for him in particular. And the thought started making his stomach churn with unease.

Because he was someone who liked going to parties. He liked the opportunity to make friends and socialize. He liked the free drinks and party favors. He even liked the god awful music because it meant he could dance his troubles away without a care in the world.

If he had a mate, chances were they wouldn’t want him to go to parties. Or go out. Or have a good time with his friends.

He was also someone who liked to drink and smoke pretty regularly to handle the stress of his everyday life. Not that he was an alcoholic or anything, but he was definitely someone who had to go to the hospital more than a handful of times to get his stomach pumped after partying a little too hard. And he was definitely someone who always had a pack of cigarettes in his jacket pocket in case he needed to chill out. But that didn’t mean he thought he was a chain smoker or anything.

Regardless of what he thought, the pack was friends with other packs in the area and let’s just say more than a few of them had mates that were heavily against their mate doing any kind of smoking or drinking.

With his luck, his mate would be the same exact way and he’d be forced to give up something he knew loved for someone his instincts would tell him he loved.

Yeonjun also liked to hook up with random people at the parties he went to. Some of them even on a regular basis because it was a situation that benefited everyone involved. They all would be satisfied with their sex lives and no one had to worry about mushy gushy relationship stuff like going on picnics or planning cheesy dates to get laid.

But he knew the second he got a girlfriend, that favorite pass time of his would be over or it would become the center of all their arguments. Which is exactly why he had never had one before.

Which was another issue: he wasn’t exactly a guy destined for monogamy. Hell, he wasn’t even able to promise his situationships that he wouldn’t go fuck someone else right after he was done with them.

And everyone, everyone, knew that about him. Even people he had never even met or people from other universities knew he was the kind of guy who girls brought back home to their beds, not back home to meet their parents.

If he had a mate, chances were they wouldn’t be okay with an open relationship. In fact, they’d likely want to be completely exclusive and to only be with each other. And, since being a mated werewolf apparently meant you’d do anything your mate wanted, he’d have no choice but to comply.

But if he had a choice, Yeonjun would want the opposite of that. Not that he would even know how to begin going about having that kind of awkward talk with someone. Actually, he couldn’t even imagine the issues that uncomfortable conversation would cause him if he had a mate.

As the eldest stayed seated adorned in his usual black and leather get up and witnessed Kai bang his fist slightly against the kitchen table causing it to still shake rather violently due to their heightened strength, he couldn’t help but think of another rather unsettling complication finding a mate would cause him if he somehow did manage to warm up to the idea of having one: bringing a fragile little human into his rather chaotic and dangerous life.

Sure he had plenty of human friends, not having them would’ve been strange and they had to stay unsuspecting to the outside world after all. And it wasn’t even that he thought less of them or had them for appearances sake. Yeonjun did genuinely like, and even at times envy, his human friends. But none of them knew half the shit that really went on in his life.

They didn’t know that he wore brown colored contacts to hide his naturally golden eyes. They didn’t know that his roommates were actually his packmates. They didn’t know he had to be locked up for almost a whole week twice a year to keep from fucking everything and everyone that crossed his path during his rut.

And they definitely didn’t know that if he ever let his emotions go unchecked and got too mad he could phase and hurt, possibly even accidentally kill, the people around him.

Yeonjun had known he had to take all that into consideration during every interaction he had with his human friends. He couldn’t let his guard down or let his emotions take control for even a second around them.

Despite that, he had never really thought about what falling in love with a human would mean for or what the consequences would be for them.

Being a mate meant being part of his pack. His pack of very kind, albeit very dumb, brothers and their future mates. It meant always having to be tethered to them because Yeonjun was, no matter how big in size it would get or how rocky a relationship the person would have with any one of them.

Being a mate meant having to keep a secret, a huge one, from all friends and family outside of said pack in order to protect everyone. It meant his mate would have to watch everything they said to be sure they never let anything slip out.

And being a mate meant being put in dangerous, possibly even deadly, situations. It meant that his mate would have to always be on the look out for werewolf hunters trying to use them for leverage.

It meant they’d have to be conscious of rivaling or vengeful packs/rogue wolves who’d have a bone to pick with theirs for one reason or another. It meant they’d have to get wrapped up with other packs and their business because Yeonjun’s never turned others away when they needed help.

It even meant that he could hurt his mate himself if he wasn’t careful while phasing or using too much strength when their weaker human body couldn’t handle it.

Being linked to him meant being linked to a revolver with one bullet in the chamber randomly firing: you just never knew when it would go off.

How could Yeonjun ever be okay with doing that to someone who never had a say in the matter to begin with because of the feelings they would catch due to his werewolf instincts?

Even if his instincts told him he didn’t have a choice, how could he ever willingly be okay with putting someone he supposedly loved in harms way each and every day? How could he ever be able to sleep at night? Or even live with himself if something ever ha-

“Jjun hyung,” Soobin’s voice suddenly broke through Yeonjun’s thoughts, “I need you to drive Hyuka to the library for his tutoring session today.”

The eldest couldn’t help but pull his brow together in annoyance, “And why the fuck would I do that?”

Yeonjun couldn’t lie and say he meant for his question to come out as rude as it did. But he truthfully didn’t see why he needed to be the one to take him. Sure the pup of the pack couldn’t drive yet, but others in the pack had recently gotten their licenses and could take him. Why did he have to do it?

Especially after he went and bummed himself out by overthinking his whole existence and future from a conversation the alpha and pup started without his control. It just didn’t seem fair.

“Because I’m in charge and because I’m asking you politely to do it,” Binnie spoke hurriedly as he shoved some books into his already overflowing bag, clearly rushing to leave the house for, what the eldest could only assume based on his polished appearance anyways, work.

Yeonjun didn’t really think that was a good enough answer. Why couldn’t Beomgyu take the younger boy? Or Taehyun? Why did it have to be him?

He drove a really nice motorcycle that, even though it could fit two people on it easily, he didn’t like other people getting close to because they could scratch or dent it. Not to mention Hueningkai was absolutely terrified of riding it as he so lovingly pointed out when he deemed it a “coffin on two wheels.” It would just make more sense for one of the others to drop him off, right?

So Yeonjun let out a dry chuckle, “Nicely? Sounds more like a command if you ask me. Huening failing out of school is not my responsibility. Besides someone else will have to do it anyways because I have school myself sorry.”

While he knew that statement was a selfish thing to say, it was also true. If he could manage to get by in school all on his own with a hope and a prayer, why couldn’t the youngest of their little family learn to do it?

Sure other people did try to “help” Yeonjun with his issues once upon a time, but they just made him feel even more stupid than he already knew his parents thought he was. So he didn’t even fully see the point of the pup going to tutoring anyways. Chances are it wouldn’t really work for him either. So it was a waste of money in his eyes.

The alpha pinched the bridge of his nose, clearly agitated and over the fight he hadn’t even had with the eldest yet, “Jesus fuck Yeonjun-ah, I don’t have time for this!” Soobin insisted with a hiss, “Tweedle dee and tweedle dumbass’s class start times today won’t let them do it and I have work. We both know you’re just gonna blow your classes off today like you do nearly everyday anyways so you can do it you just don’t want to.”

Soobin sighed jaggedly as he ran a hand through his messy hair in an attempt to steady his breathing, “But if that’s what it takes to get you off your ass and to get you to be helpful for once then yes, it’s a command then!” He practically growled because he had to do something he hated and had to force his status on his brothers as he threw his bag to sit on his shoulder, “Take his ass to his tutoring so he doesn’t fail out of school. I dont know about you but i don’t want his sisters to come and freak out on us for being bad influences on him again!”

Even though he heard muffled snickers coming from Taehyun and Beomgyu sitting nearby, all Yeonjun could do at that point was throw a harsh scowl Soobin’s way.

He couldn’t disobey an alphas order anymore than he could stop breathing. And he couldn’t necessarily say the alpha was wrong in saying he was just planning on not going to his classes today anyways. He just really hadn’t planned on being Huening’s personal taxi driver for the day. Sometimes he really hated being a werewolf.

“Looks like you’re stuck with me hyung!” Kai put his arm over the eldest’s shoulder with a squeeze, a cheshire grin happily plastered on his face.

“You know I hate you right?” Yeonjun rolled his eyes as he got up to grab the keys to his motorcycle, much to the sudden mortification and realization of the younger boy.

————

A whiff of old books and ancient dust seemed to flow through the air as the two boys stepped through the double doors to their college’s library. A library Yeonjun hated.

He hated the smell, even if the smell today wasn’t as putrid as usual for some reason. It still smelled musky and moldy like it normally did, just… less moldy and musky than he had known it to be previously.

He hated the goodie goodie people sitting at their tables studying, who no doubt thought they were better than him. Which was total bull. Because just because he wasn’t book smart like they were and could barely scrape by in his classes didn’t mean the brown nosing assholes scattered about the depressing building should have the right to judge him.

And he definitely hated having to be anywhere near the grouchy librarian who always told him he was too loud to be there. Which he found ridiculous because why should he have to be less noisy and more tame when she let everyone else do what they wanted to all the time anyways? He was 99.99% positive that the old crone just had it out for him.

“You just haaaaaad to suck at calculus didn’t you?” Yeonjun rhetorically asked his brother under his breath, his nose automatically scrunching up at the foreign aromas around him, slightly catching a whiff of someone’s delicious smelling cherry perfume that was sweet enough to almost have him forgetting why he was there in the first place. Almost.

But Huening paid no mind to the sulky boy as his eyes began to scan the rather large and echoey prison of a room for his rather small and quiet tutor.

The eldest knew that Hyuka had been doing sessions with some girl for a little over three months now and he’d say they had paid off substantially, his calculus grade went from a failing D to an average B. Which was something none of his brothers had managed to help him do.

So, as annoyed as he was at his alpha for forcing him to take him to school, Yeonjun tried not to be too annoyed with the pup. At least he was putting in effort to do something good for himself.

But that didn’t mean he had to like the place his little study sessions took place. The school library was just like one of those cheesy kdramas the pup used to make him watch, just minus the romance part and more focus on the boring part. How ugly.

“There she is!” Hueningkai practically squealed, his high pitched voice causing you to look up from the book that was in front of you at your table with a small, though obviously very startled, smile.

While Kai was just happy rambling about what they were going to work on that day and why the session would take so long as he was getting tutored by someone he considered a friend, one of the few he had actually managed to make on his own, Yeonjun was in his own little world.

From the moment his eyes turned to you as you looked up to shyly greet his younger brother from afar, everything else around him faded away.

All the students mumbling around him were tuned out when he quickly realized the sweet cherry smell looming in the air was linked to you.

All the sounds of chairs being pushed in and out from the tables scattered about went mute as your beautiful curls residually bounced from moving your head to look up.

All the passerbyers around you practically floated out of his line of sight as your dimpled smile radiated a warmth bright enough to reach even the coldest person in the room.

Before his current interaction with you, Yeonjun had only heard about you from his younger brother’s constant babbling about his new tutor friend. Soobin, Taehyun, or Beomgyu had always been the one to drop him off because the eldest never wanted to and/or was never home.

He never cared enough about something so trivial to listen to Kai’s mentions of you, which was something he was regretting very much in the present.

He didn’t remember much, but what did manage to sneak it’s way into his brain made sense. He had once told Yeonjun something about you being a foreigner. You definitely didn’t look as Korean as the people around you, yet you still managed to outshine every single person in the building by a landslide.

He thought the younger boy had once spoken about how shy you were and, based on how your cheeks lit up with noticeable hues of pink and red even through your darker complexion once you saw that Kai hadn’t come alone, he guessed his assessment of you was correct.

Huening had also said something about you being very polished and conservative in appearance. Which was something exuded in your outfit choice: a pastel yellow cardigan that brought out the glow in your ebony skin and an olive green under vest that fit your rather curvy body perfectly.

And from what Yeonjun could see just under the open library table, you had a pleated skirt composed of similar colors and white laced tights that matched your headband on top of your beautifully and expertly styled hair.

To say you were the most gorgeous person the elder boy had ever seen was an understatement.

All Yeonjun wanted to do was go over, pull you up from your chair, and kiss your perfectly glossed lips until you both ran out of breath.

Sure it would be a little difficult to maneuver, Yeonjun could tell by referencing the size of everything around you that you were quite a bit shorter than him, actually probably a lot a bit shorter than him. But with his strength and your small frame, he was sure he would still be able to lift you with ease.

In fact, you would probably be just the right size for him to be able to wrap your legs around his waist and walk around comfortably. Which would mean that walking you over to the nearest room with a lockable door wouldn’t be a probl-

But before he could finish his line of thinking, you lifted your delicate hand in the air to signal Kai to come over to you and suddenly the panic of the situation truly set in, causing Yeonjun to react on instinct.

Heart nearly pounding out of his chest from the shock of having seen you, he quickly threw himself to the side of the nearest bookcase to hide himself from your view. Much to the confusion of his younger brother who dutifully followed suite in order to see what was going on.

“Yeonjun-ah,” Kai hesitantly spoke to get the elder boy’s attention, “Is everything okay?”

No, nothing was okay. Five seconds ago his life was great. Five seconds ago he was Yeonjun, the guy who smoked nearly a pack a day. Five seconds ago he was Yeonjun, the guy who always had a drink in his hand to take the edge off.

Five seconds ago he was Yeonjun, party boy who slept with whoever he wanted to whenever he wanted to without a care in the world. Five seconds ago he was Yeonjun, a normal (relatively speaking anyways) human guy.

Now he was Yeonjun, the werewolf whose senses were going into hyperdrive and who’s brain was ready to throw all that away over some girl he had only seen once for less than half a minute.

“T-That girl’s your tutor?” The elder boy asked as he worked on catching his breath, deeply gulping back a crack he knew his voice was desperate to let out.

Huening tilted his head in confusion and gripped the strap of the bag that was thrown over his shoulder a little tighter in discomfort, “Yeah… that’s ____… why…?”

Scanning the pup’s expression, Yeonjun could tell he was getting suspicious of what was going on. He knew the second the youngest understood what was going on he’d run an tell everyone in the pack.

After that there’d be no going back. After that everything would change, for him and you. But he couldn’t let that happen.

He couldn’t lose what little life he had found for himself outside of his pack. He couldn’t let go of the few things he had left that make him happy. He couldn’t throw away a life of freedom for a life of fear.

And he couldn’t get you caught up in the mess he had created that was his life, not when he finally saw you. Not when he could tell you were a happy sweet innocent person who deserved a hell of a lot better than what he could ever give you. Not when every instinct in his body was telling him to protect you from the biggest threat around: himself. He could ruin your happy, normal life.

Yeonjun knew he’d have to respond to his brother in a matter of seconds. He knew he was acting weird and that the youngest would come to his own conclusions.

But he still had one hope: no one else in their pack had gone through imprinting or mating yet, so no one knew 100% what the signs really were in real life. They only heard second hand accounts from their friends in other packs. So there was still a chance he could hide it. You still had a chance.

“No- No reason,” Yeonjun did his best to pull himself together and recreate his shattered normal cool guy persona, even though his heart was still in his throat and it was causing him to become light headed, “Just wondering. That’s all. What time do you need picked up?”

Based on Kai’s still confused face, he didn’t seem to buy Yeonjun’s answer fully. Probably because he could physically hear his brother’s pulse racing.

But he at least let it go soon enough when he heard you softly call his name in the most painfully beautiful voice Yeonjun had ever heard, “I need a ride back at 4. I gotta go, thanks for the ride hyung!”

With that, the pup went off in a hurry to meet you at your table, giving you a quick hug and placing his things on the table for you to get your session started.

And while Yeonjun’s immediate instinct to his internal decision to stay away from you was to need to whimper because you were so close yet so far away from him, he shakily began to walk to the library’s exit so he could get back to his bike.

It felt like his heart was crushing in two. It felt like the world was crumbling around him. Like all the air was being pulled from his lungs with every step further from you that he took. It felt like he was slipping away into space and that the only thing that could bring him back to earth was you. But he refused.

As he jumped on his motorcycle, started the engine, and he sped off and away from his university at full speed, tears began to slide down his face underneath his helmet.

He made a promise to himself and to you to keep you away from him, no matter how much it hurt. It was better for everyone that way.

He wasn’t meant to be in relationships. He wasn’t meant for commitment. He wasn’t meant to love people unconditionally. He physically couldn’t, he had no frame of reference to mimic to even show you he would be willing to try to figure it out for you.

He couldn’t be a boyfriend, he legitimately didn’t know how to be one. And he wasn’t about to force you to teach him while also putting you in mortal danger every single day because of him and his pack.

A part of Yeonjun’s distraught brain wondered if he should’ve felt bad for taking the choice away from you. After all, that’s why he hated the idea of mating in the first place.

But he decided that nobody should have to make that choice. Nobody should have to choose between a quiet life with someone you could never love right and a dangerous life that may be cut short because of someone you love madly. Nobody should have to feel guilty for unintentionally killing someone if they rejected them. Nobody should have to be put through it, least of all you.

You’d be safer and happier this way. And he could continue on living for his pack because you wouldn’t have verbally denied him.

He didn’t like the idea of mates and what they stood for. He hated that they took away free will. But as cheesy as it sounded, seeing you for the first time changed everything he felt just earlier in the day.

He saw you and he immediately wanted to stop partying. He saw you and would’ve instantly quit smoking and drinking if that’s what you wanted him to do. He saw you and felt the need to send out messages to all his previous fuckbuddies to let them know it was over between them, that he had no need for them when he had you.

Because all he could think about was the future he could have with you. The stereotypical one people always referenced with the nice big house with a white picket fence he would’ve helped put up himself.

One where you two had a stupidly expensive wedding where you looked absolutely stunning walking down the aisle towards where he would be at the alter bawling his eyes out knowing you would be his forever.

A future where you had normal human jobs you came home from at the end of the day and complained to each other about while making dinner.

A life where you had two kids: a boy who looked and unfortunately acted just like himself and a girl that luckily looked and acted just like you.

Now that he had met you, he wanted you to be together. He wanted you to be his mate, to be his. He was fine with his free will being taken away if it meant he was able to freely spend a lifetime with you.

But he couldn’t put you through that.

And driving away from you when he could’ve just gone and introduced himself to you and asked you out was single handedly the hardest thing he had ever done. And his life was only gonna get harder.

(Edited 2/3/2025)

[delicatelystrangepolice]

I said it before and I’m saying it now: Young Royals fandom only claims to be SO POSITIVE AND LOVING when in fact it’s one of the most toxic fandoms that I’ve ever been in

It’s very unwelcoming when it comes to the critique and different opinions

I understand the mechanism of feeling protective over the things you love. I also know that every fandom (every community in fact) is made out of individuals and it should be transgressive, and changing as it goes. The excuse ‘yeah, people on the internet are like this, there will always be individuals who are toxic’ just doesn’t work for me. No, individuals make communities and those communities can only work and grow when there’s enough space for all sorts of different behaviors and opinions. You would think that Young Royals fans would be understanding of that – always so eager to scream about social injustice. (I guess Lisa’s message that you can’t change anything ever was effective in the end. Congratulations.)

Last year there was a lot of lamenting: I can’t believe it’s going to be over after s3, what’s going to happen to the loveliest fandom then??? And then every time anybody tried to say anything other than widely accepted headcanon people raised and screamed: oh, don’t spread the negativity! Always in an exaggerated tone: I’M SO TIRED OF THE NEGATIVITY CAN’T WE JUST PLEASE LOVE EACH OTHER?? No, we can’t.  We can’t and stop silencing people because you are killing this fandom.

People are leaving (and left before) not because the show ended, not even because the third season was a fucking disaster, but because they feel like they can’t say anything other than lovey-dovey gushy mushy bullshit.

I understand that the critique is more accepted when it’s beautifully written and coherent

Tumblr however is also a blogging platform where people process things individualistically.  You don’t have to follow people who don’t share your opinions. Hell, you can even block them. You shouldn’t however go into their blog and write them mean anons because they dared to say something on their blog. (Yes, even if it was in your beloved tag or you saw that accidentally. Learn to fucking scroll past things) Your input that you think this particular person’s opinion is stupid and should be taken down does NOTHING to spread your beloved positivity. It only makes people shut down and you know what that is going to result in? A bland, weak fandom made out of people in an echo chamber.

Communities can grow because of the negativity

Even if the show ended, there will be people in the future who will watch it and love it and maybe love it enough to want to go on Tumblr and seek others to share the love. Among those people, there will be also the ones who won’t love every single thing about the show and they will seek others to share some disappointments too. If you want this community to stay alive and growing, there must be space for some fucking negativity.

Fandoms are often about finding your niche. This fandom, this fake fucking positivity almost killed the enjoyment of the show for me. I was lucky enough to find my niche but imagine if the people I found left before I got there. Maybe you’d be happy that I’m not here, spilling some hard to accept truths. Maybe you like your fandoms to be small and cliquey. I don’t. I found my niche because I wasn’t afraid to speak about my negative experiences.

Another helpful tip to some people here: don’t make personal claims when you are trying to argue with somebody

I’ve seen enough of ‘you must be (something negative or personal) to think this’:  ‘you must be too young to understand’ ‘you must be racist’ Hell, on one horrible occasion I’ve seen ‘you must have been abused to have this take’ HOLY SHIT. You on the other hand must not be as welcoming and accepting as you claim to be to say something like this to a person who was just writing about a fucking tv show.

I think it’s very ironic that people celebrate the ending of the show: yeah, you should leave the toxic environment if it’s hurting you and then in the fandom people are leaving because they are being attacked.

Yeah, I’m talking about a small group of people who do it. They are very noticeable and the community is accepting of them. If you think I’m talking about you then great, I’m happy you’ve read it to the end. My ask box is open, but don’t think you’ll change my mind if you try to tell me things about me. I know how to delete things. I know how to ignore things. I hope you can too, and maybe you can also take a little critique from someone who’s been in many fandoms before and never felt as unwelcomed and as uncomfortable as I felt in Young Royals fandom.

[maebird-melody]

WIP Wednesday

Oop it's that time again!! I nearly missed it, but it's still technically Wednesday.

This time tagging @imakemywings specifically to ask if there are any Solavellan WIPs :3

Anyone who sees can participate of course~

(I often forget that this is tumblr, you can just do things, and not wait for someone else to start it.)

SO in honor of the like 8,000 messages shared on Discord about my original work ("Gasp! You have original work?" Yes, I know, it's a shocker), I'm gonna share a snippet from "Inkbound" (working title).

It's an epic fantasy space opera story set in a future where humans have colonized a loose collection of planets called The Consortium. Though the seven Ruling Houses still hold the throne, most of the power lies with the Bibliosanctum, a pseudo-religious institution which controls the portals, called "turnings," that connect the planets. However, the turnings are being slowly corrupted, and entire planets are in danger of being cut off from the rest of the Consortium. This is Bad because they are interdependent on each other for resources and trade. It is one girl's quest to restore the Books which control these turnings, and hopefully prevent their entire society from collapsing. Also, there's political intrigue, thieves, investigators, runaway princesses, and a boy who just can't catch a break.

Hopefully that is enough background to understand the bit I'm sharing.

“There is a job.” His thin lips formed a thin smile. “But I do not think you will be interested in it. You’re no bounty hunter, after all.” “The job is a bounty?” Wren gaped openly. The Baron did not deal with bounties. Moving people was so much riskier than moving objects. Objects could be replaced, and even the priceless ones would be mourned and eventually forgotten. People, however, could hold grudges. “It is not exactly a bounty, but the target is a person. This request comes from someone I could not deny.” His fingers tightened on the frame of the picture as he hid the safe again. “If you take this job, understand that I disavow any connection with you should you get caught.” “Should I be so lucky,” Wren muttered. By ‘disavow’ he probably meant he’d send his assassins after her before she could talk. Then to the Baron she asked, “So? How much?” “Enough to repay your father’s debt, if that’s what you’re asking.” The Baron arched a brow. “I can’t say I’m eager to be rid of you.” He looked at her in a possessive sort of way and Wren suppressed the urge to use the Scrawl and pull the Cloak around herself. “But then again, I don’t think you can complete this job before our contract becomes binding.” Wren shuddered. The contract—her father’s parting gift, and the Baron’s favorite bargaining chip. “We’ll see about that. I’ll take the job.” “So unlike you to promise your services before knowing the details.” The Baron pulled a scroll from his desk. “Here. You know the rules. If you fail—” “Have I ever?” Wren interrupted him. “If you fail,” the Baron reiterated with emphasis, “your debt will be for life.” “What else is new?” Wren glared at the Baron as she pulled a quill from her sleeve, drew ink from her skin, and held it aloft. “Where do I sign?” The Baron broke the seal on the scroll and passed it her way. “On the dotted line, my dear.” She penned her name in the Scrawl ink and felt the contract take hold. She rolled up the scroll and tucked it in her sleeve with the quill. The Baron raised an eyebrow, but didn’t say anything. She would wait to read the details of her death warrant later. She had just bet all her hopes on some very long odds. Desperation does strange things to a person. “If there’s nothing else you need, I’ll be on my way. Once you’ve paid me for this last job.” She held out her palm. “Yes, of course, my girl. I have your payment here.” He retrieved a purse from his desk and tossed it at Wren. She caught it midair and hefted it, feeling the weight. “Minus the cost of the ink you wasted last time, of course.” Wren shrugged and tucked the purse up under her blouse where she had been keeping the vials. “I’d say it’s been a pleasure doing business, but I would never lie to you, Baron.” Wren donned her cloak and let herself out.