#I’m starting the year how I mean to go on

[piastrisun]

next in line.

pairings: lando norris + verstappen female reader.

summary: your brother announces his first baby, suddenly everyone’s eyes are on you. the teasing starts as harmless fun, but life has other plans.

faceclaim: lila moss.⠀warning: none.

request: for a smau idea, can you do verstappen!reader that just found out that her brother's gonna be a dad and is just excited maybe a reader x lando? and the grid teases her telling her she's next?

notes: so so happy for max, i’m sure he’s gonna be an amazing dad. and to make clear, i do not support kelly’s actions but i respect her as max’s partner and mother of their kid. also, i’m really sorry this took so long, i didn’t had my laptop :( but i do now!

liked by maxverstappen1, landonorris and others

ynverstappen i’m going to be an aunt, AGAIN!!! congratulations to the best brother in the world and my sister-in-law for blessing us with a tiny human. can’t wait to meet my future favourite little one. 🤍

tagged maxverstappen1

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username this got me thinking she was expecting as well, the GASP i let out 💀

maxverstappen1 best brother in the world? finally getting the recognition i deserve

username the fact he commented this first, so unserious 😭😭

username1 i was so moved by the caption and now i’m laughing

maxverstappen1 ik houd van je, kleine zus!!! (i love you, little sister)

ynverstappen ik hou altijd van je, you’re going to be an amazing dad!! (i love you too)

username2 FAVES

username3 my most parasocial relationship are them because i feel like they’re my cousins

kellypiquet thank you!! 🥹 baby can’t wait to meet their favourite aunt

ynverstappen stop it i’ll cry

username they’re so sweet with each other

username4 OMG congrats to your family!!! can’t wait to see the cutest baby pics

landonorris i’m next in line to become an uncle

ynverstappen i hope you’re ready for all the babysitting we’ll be doing!!

username5 wait... does this mean lando and yn are next?

username6 imagine the chaos if they had a baby too 😭😭

maxfewtrell chaos? more like pure excellence the world’s not ready

landonorris couldn’t agree more

ynverstappen you’re BANNED from my posts

username7 do you guys think i still have time to reincarnate in that baby?

username8 MOVE, it was my idea first

danielricciardo aunt for now, mum next?

ynverstappen delete this immediately

─── ⋅ ☆ ⋅ ───

YOUR CHATS: MAMMA’S FAVOURITE GROUP.

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ynverstappen added to their story.

replies to your story

landonorris just say the word babe

ynverstappen STOPPPP

landonorris i meannn, i was already planning our baby names list, but take your time

ynverstappen keep the list, i’m busy trying to decide between napping or rewatch criminal minds

maxverstappen1 we’re just preparing you for the future

ynverstappen future? i was planning on sleeping past 11 AM, thank you very much

ynverstappen but sure, let’s add kids to the list!

victoriaverstappen you’re next! the family is ready for some mini-you

ynverstappen okay that is kinda cute

─── ⋅ ☆ ⋅ ───

YOUR CHATS: TEAM BABY.

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liked by francolapinto, carlossainz55 and others

landonorris four years with my person, my best friend, and the love of my life. here’s to many more!! i love youuuuu

tagged ynverstappen

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lnfour nice number that one

ynverstappen beyond grateful for you every single day, love you more than anything!! <3 ♥︎ liked by author

landonorris love youUuUu

maxfewtrell you two have made it 4 years and not killed each other? impressive

ynverstappen jerk, we’re literally the best couple

username SPEAK UR TRUTH 🗣️

username2 seeing you two together makes me believe in love and what

carlossainz55 yeah, how’s that baby talk going?

ynverstappen can we just enjoy the anniversary without being bombarded about children

landonorris hey!! it’s a valid question

sophiekumpen watching you grow together has been such a joy ♥︎ liked by author

landonorris we couldn’t have done it without all your support 🩶

username3 this is the cutest thing i’ve seen all day

username4 sooo, where’s the baby update?

georgerussell63 you better be sending out wedding invites soon... you know i’ll be waiting ♥︎ liked by author

username5 lando liked this omg

username6 OH IM SO EXCITED

maxverstappen1 maybe we can get the baby a matching anniversary onesie

landonorris don’t tempt me!!

username6 you’re worse than the actual mother 😭😭

alex_albon he is and we appreciate it

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landonorris added to their story.

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maxfewtrell she has that pregnancy glow

landonorris she says: fuck off

maxfewtrell so lovely as always 🥰

charles_leclerc is the shrimp carrying a baby shrimp?

landonorris i don’t think so but stay tuned!

charles_leclerc 🫡

ynverstappen shrimp 😭😭 you’re unbelievable

landonorris you’re MY shrimp, tho

ynverstappen i know i love u

landonorris special shrimp

ynverstappen yes

landonorris mama shrimp

ynverstappen too far babe

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ynverstappen added to their story.

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danielricciardo i’m assuming shrimp is code for ‘future mum’ now?

ynverstappen lando’s been calling me shrimp since FOREVER

danielricciardo for obvious reasons, you kinda look like one

ynverstappen you’re relentless

oscarpiastri you can’t escape forever, you know

ynverstappen i can and i WILL

─── ⋅ ☆ ⋅ ───

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ynverstappen we <3 new york

tagged landonorris

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alex_albon this feels like a soft launch for a baby announcement

ynverstappen in WHAT world

alex_albon i don’t know, everyone says new york is romantic

ynverstappen no one has EVER said that

carlossainz55 you two look like you’re scouting locations for a babymoon

ynverstappen STOP GIVING HIM IDEAS

landonorris i do like the sound of that ♥︎ liked by author

ynverstappen no you don’t

username she says that and yet likes all the baby related comments 😭😭

landonorris do you think we’ll get a discount if we book the babymoon now? asking for a friend

ynverstappen i’ll throw you in the ocean

username2 LMAOO he’s not even subtle about it

maxfewtrell baby’s first visit to the empire state? 👶🏻

landonorris give us nine months, mate

username3 savannah slow down

username4 y’all are a little too cute and i love it

username5 REAL like those are my parents

oscarpiastri if you name the baby after me i’ll babysit for free. think about it

landonorris oscar norris-verstappen it is!!!

ynverstappen first of all, my last name would go first

ynverstappen second, you were my favourite, oscar

ynverstappen and i remark WERE

oscarpiastri got it miss

─── ⋅ ☆ ⋅ ───

─── ⋅ ☆ ⋅ ───

YOUR CHATS: TEAM BABY.

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liked by danielricciardo, ynverstappen and others

lando.jpg muse

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username he has called her his muse a million times and it gets me every time 🥹

ynverstappen love love love ♥︎ liked by author

lando.jpg 🖤

danielricciardo your family portraits are coming along nicely. just missing one thing…

lando.jpg i’ll admit that would make a good christmas card ♥︎ liked by ynverstappen

username2 u don’t even TRY to be subtle, huh? lmaooo

username3 someone pls tell him he’s not slick 😭😭

username4 you two are the cutest

username5 okay dad in training, we see you!!

username6 they can’t escape baby talk even online i’m CRYING

username7 husband AND dad material, i don’t make the rules ♥︎ liked by author

username8 him liking this he’s NOT real

username9 this man is ready, someone call yn

charles_leclerc dog dad today, human dad tomorrow 👀

ynverstappen tomorrow’s a bit ambitious, but thanks for the timeline

username she’s not saying no—

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©⠀piastrisun original work. please don’t translate, claim or repost any of my writing, 25’.

[cyberphuck]

With basic supplies, some time, and actually very little talent or know how, you can paint your own mural. There are lots of designs online that are like paint by number or stencil designs intended for crikut machines, or you can get an artist to simplify a design for you. You can blow up the design, print it out, make stencils out of cardboard.

Painting a mural is more intimidating, but really not much harder than carving a pumpkin, and it’s actually more forgiving because if you fuck it up you can just paint over with primer again and start over. Start with the background and work your way forward. And of course, as with everything, there are 100 million how two pages and YouTube videos showing you exactly how to do it.

I’m not saying you’re going to paint a jaw dropping fresco that people will still be coming to visit in 600 years, but you can definitely make your bathroom walls seashell themed or have a big painting of a sleeping cat in your living room. If you keep it simple, work slowly, and have fun and listen to music while you do it you will end up with something that will not only look good, but makes you feel accomplished and I promise that all of your friends will compliment you on it and say things like “oh gosh, I could never do that, you’re so talented!”

(Literally ask anyone who’s done a small public or semi public art project before, women of all stripes will come boiling out of sewer drains to gush over your work and it’s very gratifying. I’m sorry I can’t tell you about men’s reactions because men typically do not approach me in public, apparently I look very mean lmao)

Oh but JD you say, where is your mural? And to you I say, it’s wherever the rest of my executive function went. But if you take your Adderall, you’ll definitely be able to make your house a home.

….. I just reread the original post and realized it was about starting HRT, and the painting the walls thing was a metaphor…. Oh…

Well my advice on murals stands!

You own the home you live in. The last owners painted the walls of your bedroom a horrible off white.

You fucking hate it. Every day you wake up to off-white walls and off-white ceilings and pass through your off-white door to get to the rest of the house. You feel like you've been locked up in a padded room. It makes you want to die.

So what is there to do? Well, you own the home. Go out and get some paint, a roller or two, and a drop cloth. If the color makes you want to kill yourself, you should obviously change it.

But what if you didn't hate it. What if it just mildly perturbed you? Or maybe what if you didn't, like, reeeeeally mind it all that much, but you knew that another color would make you a lot happier? Does the decision that you come to change?

Sure, it's work moving the furniture out, setting up, painting, making sure you get the edges, cleaning up, letting it all dry, etc, but isn't adding joy to your life worth the effort? Don't you owe it to yourself to subtract mediocrity and add happiness? Do you need to be miserable to envision a better life?

[siriuslylantsov]

be my valentine

pairing: spencer reid x reader

description: in which, spencer asks you out after a hearty but incomplete info dump on the history of valentines day.

tags: fluff! idiots inlove, gn!reader, reader is briefly described as shorter than spencer, teasing!spencer, grumpy!reader, penelope is an angel and i love her so much, reader shitting on valentines day and raising some very valid points.

a/n: based on this request, second fic for the event!! i know its still four days till valentines day but! if i didnt get this done now it would've been late. i rewrote this THREE times... but i rlly like how this version came out! happy reading :)

wc: 2.1k

it's your lunch break and you’re glaring at yet another sappy couple that walks by you. grumbling, you take another bite of your blueberry muffin. spencer laughs from his seat in front of you, amused by how your lip curls into an irritated pout. the two of you had walked to a cafe, a brief reprieve away from the frenzied police department you were stationed at for this week's case. 

“motherfuckers,” you seethe, still chewing your food. “i hate valentine's day.”

he laughs again, his tone sarcastic, “really, i never would’ve guessed.”

your glare shifts to him as you cross your arms. his grin is still there, annoyingly persistent, you hate that it doesn't affect him as much as it should. if you told him this, he would’ve told you that it didn't pack much of a punch. 

you roll your eyes and continue with a heavy scoff, “it's just another fake holiday, you know. like mother's day. created by greeting card companies trying to commercialise a day that shouldn't even exist honestly. every day should be dedicated to showing your loved ones how much you care, not just 24 hours in the middle of february.”

he accepts your cynicism with a smirk, completely accustomed to it. he knows you don’t mean it, not entirely, you just like to rant. “you know valentines day actually goes back about 2000 years. i’m sure greeting card companies weren't around back then,” he corrects, biting his lip in suppression.

your eyes narrow into slits, feeling the faint shift in the air of an incoming info dump. you ignore the way you want to hear what he has to say and take a sip of your coffee instead. you stall to torture him a bit, it's funny how he squirms.

“really,” you drag out, stroking your chin in exaggerated contemplation. you stare at him knowingly, he wants to continue but he's waiting for you to give him the green light. you laugh quietly, mood already improved, “go on.”

spencer visibly brightens, sitting up straighter and hands springing into action. “well, valentine's day has a really fascinating and somewhat convoluted history,” he starts, almost giddily. “the earliest accepted theory can be traced back to the roman festival of lupercalia, which was celebrated from february 13th to 15th. it was a fertility festival dedicated to faunus, the roman god of agriculture, and it included a ritual where men would sacrifice a goat and a dog, then use strips of the goat’s hide to whip women-”

“wait, they used goat skin to whip women?” you interject, eyes widening incredulously.

“yes! they willingly lined up for it too, believing it would make them more fertile,” he explains, far too animated considering the context, but it's okay. you like his enthusiasm. 

you grimace, “weird.”

“right. however, the day of love that we now recognise was brought by st. valentine, though which valentine is unclear—there were at least three martyred saints by that name. the most famous story involves a priest in third-century rome who defied emperor claudius ii's orders by secretly performing marriages for young soldiers,” he pauses to take a breath. you use it to bring your coffee back up to your lips, hiding your smile.

“claudius believed single men made better warriors, so he banned them from marrying,” he clarifies to which you nod. “when valentine was caught, he was executed on february 14th, which is why he’s the namesake of the holiday. some versions of the story even say that he sent a letter to his jailer's daughter signed ‘from your valentine’ which could be the origin of the modern tradition.”

“huh,” you pick your lip in thought, spencer hides the way his eyes dart down to them as you do it. “but that’s still an execution, how did it-”

the shrill tone of your ringtone interrupts you. “mhm, okay,” you respond when you pick up the phone. “we’ll be right there.” 

spencer stares at you expectantly, reaching over to grab your bag. he secures it over his shoulder and stands up. 

“it was jj,” you explain, stuffing the last bits of muffin into your mouth. “wi’ness ‘howed up.”

the food-muffled words make him chuckle and hold out a hand for you to get up. you let him pull you up with a dramatic huff, still holding his hand as you dust crumbs from your lap. you realise it a little too late and let go with a start, frown returning when you realise he isn’t going to let you carry your bag.

the walk back only took about five minutes before but this time's slower pace makes it a longer ordeal. comfortable silence brackets the two of you until it doesn’t when spencer speaks up.

“so, there's actually a lot more to the history of valentine's day. for instance, how the day became one of romance instead of, as you said, one that marked a martyrdom. we could, i don't know, discuss this properly over dinner. or drinks? or ice cream, i know that you like ice cream-”

filler words... he’s nervous. amid his rambling, he doesn't realise that you’ve stopped in your tracks. 

“-we can do whatever you want, i don't mind.” when he looks beside him and doesn't find you, he turns around. he can scarcely read the expression on your face, he usually can. this causes a little bout of concern to bubble up, “what is it?”

“are you asking me out?” your question is immediate, blunt, as a confused crease forms between your eyebrows.

well shit, he was. his lips part as he processes what he just said, he looks a little like a deer in headlights the way he stares back at you. was that too much? are you mad? did you want him to ask you out? what if you say no? he should say something. what if he messes everything up? he can’t-

“spencer,” his name rings out softly, pulling him from his spiral. 

his eyes snap to yours, searching, desperate to read between the lines, to piece together what you’re thinking like he always does—except this time, he can’t. he squeezes his eyes shut before opening them again, “yes.”

he swallows hard and adds, “on a date.”

“i got that,” you murmur, stepping closer to him, and closing the distance that he unintentionally left.

his head dips, voice small. “i didn't mean to make you uncomfortable.”

your head tilts slightly, studying him. “you didn’t.”

the reassurance eases him a little but not enough as the anxiety claws at him while he waits for your answer. your phone sounds again from your pocket, this time a text from morgan. you quickly type out a response–got lost, be there in 2. it's a pathetic excuse, if you focused, the station was in your direct eye line. but you needed to say something. 

“okay.”

he can't help the sign of relief that slips out of him, you giggle at the sound. when he looks at you again, he's unmeasurably happy to see your poorly concealed smile, breaking out in his own matching one. 

“yeah?” he asks sheepishly.

you nod, chewing your bottom lip, “yeah.”

your eyes squint at the corners, a side effect of the same grin that those sappy couples had been sporting, the same one that you’d been complaining about a little while ago. it makes you want to kick yourself, so you do the next best thing. you take hold of spencer's hand and drag yourself back to the pd. spencer shuffles somewhat behind you, trying to keep up with your stride. it doesn't take him long with those long legs of his.

his thumb strokes your knuckles gently–deliberately, you feel–but he pretends it's an unconscious action with the way his eyes are trained ahead. it makes you roll your eyes. when you near, you reluctantly let go of each other, the moment being the last time the two of you are alone for the rest of the day.

-

the team ends up solving the case a few hours later, taking the jet home where a valentines day baking spread is set up in the briefing room. all set up by the resident tech savvy. penelope tells you later that it took a whole week of convincing on her part, insisting that it would be quick and she’d clean up, and that everyone would get home to their own valentine's day plans in no time. 

there are a few heart-shaped helium balloons floating in the corners, and pink streamers in easy to reach places. the room is drastically more inviting, maybe the tones of fuschia and bubblegum have something to do with that. a cake and a bowl of suspiciously dyed punch reside on the table, along with pink plates and cups.

“penelope,” you gasp when you see them.

perfectly curated baskets of chocolate and cookies and associated items for everyone. you pick up the one with your name on it and inside you find: a candle, your favourite candy tied together with a little bow and a letter signed ‘happy valentines day, sweetheart. love, penny xx’. 

oh my god, you could kiss her. 

“it's like christmas,” emily muses from the other end of the table. you hear jj mutter something in agreement. you peek over at spencer, it's probably the hundredth time that you've snuck a glance his way. his eyes were already on you every other time, only now they were accompanied by a pair of red heart-shaped glasses, the clear plastic lenses offering a perfect view of his hazel orbs. the picture makes you laugh to yourself, you can barely hear it echoing from his end. 

-

about 30 minutes later, only the stragglers are left. in better words, the single people. the individuals with partners having rushed off to their own respective plans. you're making small talk with another girl who worked around the office when you feel a light hand on your shoulder, spencer nodding his head toward the elevator to signal your leave. you politely wish her goodbye and walk out with him. 

“cute glasses,” you tease, bumping his shoulder with yours, though the height difference makes it so you're nudging his upper arm. 

“yeah? i might get the lenses medicated, switch them out for my regular ones,” he jokes, his elbow nudging yours gently as he pushes the bridge of the glasses up the slope of his nose instinctively. 

“good idea,” you nod.

“you think?”

“mhm.” 

once again, he beats you to your bag, swiping it from your chair and carrying it along with his own. you meekly toy with the hem of your shirt as the two of you walk to the elevator. 

“so, bummer that neither of us have plans today. it’s so early,” you say, being blatantly obvious with what you're suggesting.

spencer only offers you an indifferent “yeah, bummer” in response, walking in when the doors slide open. when you look at him though, he's anything but indifferent, the corner of his lip pulling up in a crooked smile, irritatingly smug. you don't know where he gets off on being so at ease but the expression on his face makes you scowl as you follow him in. 

he is silent the whole ride down. you become increasingly annoyed, only faltering slightly when his hand reaches down to hold yours. his fingers thread between yours and you not-so subtly curl yours over his, ignoring the way he looks down at you. 

you try not to smile at the domestic picture of the two of you walking out hand in hand. thankfully the basement is empty. he pauses between your cars and mutters a quick “see you monday” before loosening his fingers and turning to walk away.

“spencer,” you groan, almost a whine as you squeeze his hand before he can let go.

he responds immediately, without missing a beat, “yes, angel.”

fuck.

you want to melt but you don’t want to give him the satisfaction. “would you like to do something tonight?” you grit out begrudgingly.

“i would love to,” he agrees, pulling you closer with your hand. your gaze darts to the two bag straps on his shoulder and you realise he had no intention of letting you go just like that. so you shove him, a little hard that he stumbles a bit. he huffs a laugh and you shake your head dismissively. 

he slowly, tentatively, dips down to press a soft kiss to your cheek. your eyes flutter shut at the contact. 

“how does thai food sound?” he asks, that same bashfulness creeping into his voice that you love so dearly. 

“sounds perfect.”

you share another sweet smile that would probably make you gag from an outside perspective but now it just makes you feel dizzy. he leads you back to his car, muttering something about how he’ll pick yours up tomorrow morning. you want to argue with him but that same dizzy feeling stops you.

you can't help the dreamy sigh that slips out when he connects your hands again over the centre console. thank god for st. valentine, you think.

reblogs and replies are appreciated :) | m.list

divider from @saradika-graphics

[rosiecosy]

tied to you˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

(dino x reader)

“we’re here!”

the door to the bridal suite slams open, and seventeen bursts in like an overenthusiastic stampede, their suits barely containing their energy.

“are you ready?” soonyoung practically vibrates. “are you nervous? do you wanna run? say the word, and i’ll cause a distraction.”

jeonghan rolls his eyes. “you just want an excuse to cause chaos.”

“yeah.”

seungkwan sighs dramatically, already dabbing at his eyes. “i just can’t believe chan is getting married before mingyu.”

“hey,” mingyu frowns. “what does that mean?”

you giggle, adjusting the lace on your dress. “it means chan’s just ahead of the game.”

seokmin gasps, clutching his chest. “oh my god, you’re defending him now. you really do love him.”

“that’s kinda the point,” joshua chuckles.

“no, no,” jun shakes his head. “the point is, she’s officially one of us now.”

minghao crosses his arms. “which means we can roast her, too.”

wonwoo nods. “we should prepare initiation.”

you snort. “you guys act like i haven’t been dealing with you for years.”

seungcheol steps forward, placing a warm hand on your shoulder. his voice softens. “but really—are you okay?”

you take a breath, heart swelling at the sight of them all, at the warmth in their eyes.

“i’m more than okay,” you say. “i’m ready.”

they collectively sigh in relief.

“good,” woozi says. “because chan’s been pacing for the past twenty minutes, and if we don’t start soon, i think he might combust.”

—

chan is, in fact, about to combust.

his tie feels too tight. his palms are sweating. he’s practically bouncing on the balls of his feet, ignoring mingyu’s amused snickers.

then—

the doors open.

his breath leaves his body.

it doesn’t make sense, how someone he sees every day—someone he already knows is the love of his life—can still stun him. but here you are, walking toward him, and he swears his heart might actually give out.

“breathe,” seungcheol mutters.

chan barely hears him.

you reach him, slipping your hand into his. his grip is warm, grounding, desperate.

“hi,” you whisper.

chan exhales, squeezing your hand like he can’t believe you’re real. “hi.”

the officiant starts talking, but chan only hears the way you giggle softly when he fumbles with the ring, the way your fingers linger against his when you slide his on.

then—

“you may now kiss the bride.”

seventeen erupts.

“DO IT PROPERLY!” soonyoung yells.

“USE TONGUE!” dk adds, earning a smack from seungkwan.

chan groans, covering his face. “oh my god, can you not?”

you laugh, grabbing his hands and tugging them down. “ignore them, husband.”

his breath stutters at the word.

husband.

chan doesn’t hesitate. he cups your face, lips pressing against yours, and the second he does, the cheers double—mingyu actually whistles.

but chan doesn’t care.

he just pulls you closer, arms tight around you, lips curling into a smile against yours.

when he finally pulls away, he rests his forehead against yours, voice full of wonder.

“we did it.”

you grin. “you’re stuck with me now.”

chan laughs, lifting you off your feet just because he can. “good. because i’m never letting you go.”

[cinnamqnx]

virtually yours ⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆

pairing. seishiro nagi x f!reader

summary. you’re not a usually a gamer girl, occasionally playing the sims or roblox, so imagine your surprise when a clip of you & your best friend goes viral for talking shit to who you imagined was a 12 year old kid, but actually a popular streamer with a territorial fan base and of all place, on dress to impress.

warnings. basically just crack & fluff, nagi is a lil toxic at the start, swearing

09 | facetime

“hello?”, nagi asks from your phone.

“sorry, i was just messaging ryusei.”, you reply, going off your messages app and back onto the facetime, seeing the top half of his face peeking on your phone.

“oh, okay.”

“alright.. back to what i was saying”, you say, watching nagi’s eyes flicker back up to the facetime, ready to listen.

“i won’t lie, you had me really confused in your messages.”, you continue.

“why?”, he asks.

“i just felt like you was suggesting something.”, you explain, “but i can’t really tell all the time with you.”

he hums, “i don’t know, maybe i was?”, he replies, his tone unsure.

“you sound unsure.”

he defiantly whines while his brows furrow through your screen, causing you to giggle, “you don’t feel like answering?”

“no, but you know what i meant though..”, his voice drifts off, “didn’t you?”

you think for a moment, “well, i don’t think i’d mind if people thought we were together.”

he’s silent for a moment, “really?”

“mhm.”, you pause, “but i would mind the hate from your crazy fan girls, though.”

“yeah. i know.”, he sighs, flopping backwards on his bed.

“but you don’t have to be so secretive about how you feel.”, you pause, “i mean, i have everyone telling me how you feel, but i’ve not heard it from you.”

he feels the anxiety pool at his stomach, a rare feeling for him, “well.. what have they said?”

“that you like me.”

he’s silent for a moment, “oh..”, he mumbles.

“oh?”, you ask softly, trying to pry more out of him other than a quiet ‘oh’.

“i dunno, i guess i do.”, he says quietly.

you giggle at his sudden shyness, “you don’t have to be so shy about it.”

he groans, “it’s embarrassing.”

“it’s not!”, you continue, “i promise it’s not.”

“it’s a hassle.”

“it’s a hassle liking me?”

“no, i mean.. i dunno.”, he sighs, “it feels childish.”

“and.. i’ve never even met you, so do you not find it weird?”, he asks, a tone of insecurity in his voice that you’ve never once heard.

“i don’t think it’s stupid, sei.”

he sighs out in slight relief, glad you’re not making fun of him, “it doesn’t matter anyway.”

“why not?”, you pry.

“cause you don’t like me back.”, he shrugs, trying to act nonchalant about it.

you hum before replying, “and who said i didn’t like you back?”

he’s silent for a few seconds, “what?”, his voice is quiet.

“well, i just assumed.”, he thinks for a moment, “are you maybe saying.. that you do like me?”

you hum in confirmation, nagi now having a small, genuine smile on his face from the other side of the phone, while his stomach fills with excitement.

this is a new feeling.

navigation. virtually yours

next chapter. 10

author’s note. sorry this took me longer to get out!! i’m pretty busy atm with life and college. this is also a pretty short chapter but i’ll be posting chapter 10 soon as well!!

taglist: @nensi @yuiearyi @mi2ukiss @pookalicious-hq @shumeow-h @solaqes @jellychannie @kermitbbg69 @pctterheadd @mizuwki @simpingmyassoff @karasu4life @crispynutella @stwberri @lilwx @suksatoru @rwura @ibyobi @renchai @nuhahani @digitaltrippers @natsukicookies @meekydeeks @ursafehaven @tamimemo @yukari1k @chaoslibra @mochiii-sama @cookielovesbook-akie @ningninjas @wallflowerdowned @hannimissesherbackbone @dinnersyummy @appalost @mbyy00 @asteraslvrr @kaz-0e @kascar-chronicle @arwawawa2 @rwbie @haruhi269 @lovessen @kaiserlvr @azharyy @hwaassaa @mikaru0 @sobbangchan @thenightsflower @chuurinnie @appl3-0rchard (closed)

[alagaisia]

This is true, and it’s especially true for the people that I think most is us probably encounter in our own social circles and daily lives. But I don’t think it’s true for everybody. Remember how there was that stat showing a spike in google searches for “did Joe Biden drop out” on Election Day?

I think it’s sort of like how you can’t know what you can’t know. If you don’t know that you’re missing information, you can’t go looking to educate yourself on it. And while most of the time when people talk about “living in a bubble” they tend to mean it in a bad faith, paradox of tolerance type of way, I’ve realized lately that it’s a concept that’s absolutely applicable in a lot of ways. Of course we make our assumptions about the world based on the very limited and biased sample size of people we interact with in our daily lives. You can’t talk about the benefits of being able to curate our dashes on tumblr and then say you think the people who interact with the same political posts as you make a representative sample of the American public.

I am someone who tries to be pretty aware of environmental issues in my personal habits. My family isn’t zero-waste, granola, organic everything, but we haven’t used a plastic shopping bag or water bottle since I was in first grade. As I start forming my own adult habits and thinking about having more control over my consumption, I’m identifying ways I could move towards more environmental consciousness. I know that I’m not doing the absolute most I could be doing, and that I think about this more than the people around me, but not by that much, right?

Except I work now for an organization that sends plays on things like proper sorting of recycling to teach elementary students two counties from where I live. The county pays us to bring these programs, because the residents are simply not recycling. I’ve gone along on one or two of the programs and seen kids ten and eleven years old participating in the interactive “help us sort the recycling” activity in the show who were terrible at it. Because it’s just not something their community thinks about. These aren’t rural areas, these aren’t devoid of civilization or waste management infrastructure, this is a suburb 45 minutes from the largest city in our state.

It’s hard for me to wrap my head around it, too, but trump did not win because more people voted for him. He won because record numbers of people did not vote at all. And we can blame that on individual leftists becoming cynical and disillusioned, but something like a third of the country has never voted in any election. There are people who are and always have been disconnected from and disinterested in the government and electoral politics and anything happening in this country.

And it’s wrong! I’m not saying it isn’t. Each of us has a responsibility to our communities, and the civic responsibility of voting and being at least minimally informed on what’s happening in the country is a part of living in a fucking society. It’s disgraceful. But many of those non-voters didn’t consider all of the available information and then choose not to educate themselves and not to vote. It simply didn’t occur to them. Just like the kids I encountered who don’t know how to recycle, a lot of people have grown up in families and communities where electoral politics were somebody else’s business, or for any number of other reasons I can’t begin to guess at, something that just wasn’t a priority. I come from a very politically motivated family, and I’m sure most of you do too. I don’t know anybody who doesn’t vote. I don’t know why each of them didn’t. But there are millions of people who don’t.

These problems have been building since long before 2016, but at the very least that election should have been a wake up call for the democratic party on a national level. What we needed and still need is community and individual level action on a national scale to reach non-voters and educate them on political issues and why this shit does actually affect them and does actually matter. Democrats need to stop folding to random criticism on things like fracking and instead have some fucking backbone, stick to their morals, and work to get votes through education and changing people’s minds and convincing them that these values are worth voting for, rather than changing their policies every other week based on what they think might appease people who are not going to vote for them anyway without a concentrated effort for a societal change of mindset.

Yes, there’s lots of information available, and people do have a responsibility to use that. Obviously there are plenty of people like the ones OP alludes to who are shirking that responsibility due to apathy. But those of us who know all of that know it because we are part of communities that care about accessing and acting based on that information. There are people who don’t know and don’t care and to whom it would never occur to seek that information out, because in their community, it doesn’t matter. And those are the people who I think the democratic party does have a real responsibility to try harder to reach. Politicians also obviously live in a social bubble where everybody cares about politics. But somebody needs to look at the numbers and realize that that’s just not true for the country as a whole. And then they need to do something about it.

I STILL sometimes see people argue that Trump's victory is the fault of Democrats for not being good enough at messaging, and not making it clear enough to Americans all the good Biden was doing.

I knew. Lots of people I know knew. I don't have a secret line to the white house. I'm around average intelligence. I'm not excessively seeking out news, constantly getting news updates. And yet I knew. And so did many others. The information was there for you to get at any time. It found its way to me without my actively seeking it out. Kamala Harris cannot personally come to your house and slap the tiktok out of your hands. You have to take a crumb of responsibility here.

[ultravi0lence14]

FREAK

SAM WINCHESTER X STANFORD!READER

WARNINGS: standord!era sam, fluff, suggestive content

SUMMARY: no one understands how you, the campus sweetheart and queen of stanford, could go out with such a loser like sam winchester. little did those prying eyes know, that your man had more to him then met the eye.

WORD COUNT: 1.3k

the roaring crowd deafened your hearing, making the bumping music even more agitating then it already was.

you had no idea why you came to this stupid party anyway. it was a celebration for the school’s football teams latest win, and if it wasn’t for your best friend dating the quarterback, you would bet your entire life savings that you would be home right now, snuggled in bed with sam and watching a movie on tv.

this wasn’t the type of crowd that sam would usually find himself in, and you were starting to regret not staying back and playing scrabble with him like he asked.

stanford’s community was amazing, don’t get it twisted, but you also liked your peace and quiet, meaning that a loud party with even more boisterous and testosterone filled football boys was not high on your list.

“girl cmon,” your friend lily giggled, stumbling towards you and sloshing the contents of her alcohol filled cup over the rim. “have some fun! jason just told me they are bringing the kegs out, and i know you would absolutely demolish a keg stand!”

“yeah, absolutely not.” you grimaced, eyes wandering towards where a group of boys were holding up someone’s legs and cheering them on. “i’d rather do anything but that, lil.”

lily just sighed, putting her cup on the coffee table by her side and crossing her arms over her chest. “you’re no fun anymore, girlie. i swear, ever since you started seeing sam winchester you’ve become a total stick in the mud.”

a flare of annoyance sparked in your belly at her words. you and lily were close — having met from being roommates in your freshman year, yet you hated how her, her stupid boyfriend jason, and his even stupider football friends talked about your boyfriend.

yeah, sam was quiet, reserved, and didn’t like to party all that much, but that didn’t make him a loser. you weren’t with him because of that, you were with sam because he was kind, caring, the sweetest boy you’d ever met, and a god when it came to eating you out.

eyes narrowing, you hadn’t even opened your mouth to defend your boyfriends honour before a grating one beat you to it. “you’ve got that right babe.”

of course. wherever lily went her annoying boyfriend jason followed. and wherever jason went his even more annoying friend kyle followed along too.

smiling sarcastically at the two dickhead’s in front of you, your eyes couldn’t help but glance over to lily, who wasn’t even paying attention to you anymore; to busy making goo goo eyes at jason.

“you’ve never even talked to sam before, jason,” you sneered, giving the tall and brooding man the nastiest death stare you could muster. “all of you are so quick to rip on him when you haven’t even given him a chance!”

jason just made a psh noise, waving his hand around before draping it on lily’s waist. “what’s there to give a chance for? he’s a fucking nerd, don’t even know why you’re with him anyways.”

now you were fucking pissed. steam was practically coming out of your ears, and you had to remind yourself to not go full on protective mode over the 6’4 man you called your boyfriend.

“i’m with him ‘cause he’s not a fucking dick, unlike someone i know.” sneering over at the now slightly shocked man, you turned to lily and gave her a glare that could rival the one you just gave her boyfriend. “wow, you really know how to pick ‘em lil.”

with that you turned around, storming out of the student house where the party was being held and trudging in the direction of yours and sam’s shared apartment.

“i fucking hate him!” the loud and aggressive tone of voice you were using was you stalked into your apartment didn’t even surprise sam. all the man in question did was slowly look up from his book, dog ear his page and give you an incredulous stare that told you to go on.

“hello to you too, honey,” sam’s voice was smooth and soft, a small lilt of a smile breaking through as he saw you storm towards the couch. “what happened? how was the party?”

“it fucking sucked.” you bit out, dropping down beside sam and instantly curling into his side. the man in question didn’t hesitate before he wrapped his arm around your shoulder, burrowing you further into his side.

“jason’s a prick,” you breathed, looking up to see sam’s eyebrows raise in question. “he thinks he’s so much better than everyone ‘cause he can throw a stupid ball. always talking down to me and our relationship, it’s fucking infuriating.”

at your words, sam’s hand around your shoulder tightened, making you look at him with a curious look. “what did he say to you?” sam’s words came out through his teeth, and you could see the malice swimming in his eyes. “did he push his limits? because i swear to god-“

“calm down macho man,” you giggled, resting your chin on his chest as you looked up at him through your lashes. “it wasn’t anything too bad, just his usual shit.” running your nail down his chest, you smirked up at sam as his frame visibly deflated. “i love when you get all protective,” you spoke through a grin. “makes me feel all tingly inside.”

the puff of air that sam expelled from his lips was proof enough that his short reigned anger had dissipated. pulling you closer to his chest, the man who had stolen your heart dropped a loving kiss onto the crown of your head. “you know how i feel about him, baby. and you know that if he steps even one toe out of line, i’ll drop the whole ‘nerd’ act he’s classified me in and show him the hunter.”

yes, sam had told you about his upbringing and all the supernatural hullabaloo, and honestly, you were decently okay with it. it took sometime to really garner everything, but after a while, you honestly took it with a grain of salt. hunting didn’t define sam, and you were just happy that he was as smart of a man as he was after the trauma he had to endure.

it was also endearing that he could probably beat jason down to the ground without a second thought, and you really smiled at that picture.

“my big, brave hunter,” you smirked out lifting your chin up so you could press a kiss to the underside of his jaw. “somehow, you get even more sexy when you talk all protective.”

smirking, sam shifted so he could lay you down on the couch, arms by your head as his body weight melded on top of yours. “your my girl, baby. if someone makes you upset, i’m going to sort it out.”

deftly, your fingers clutched the back of his neck, arms around his shoulders as you used your leverage to pull his face down to yours. “good.” you smiled, lips pressing against his in a soft and sensual kiss.

sam’s hands were everywhere; on your hips, in your hair, smoothing down your cheeks. he kissed so passionately and so deeply that you felt it in your bones. and when his tongue broke free from his mouth, eliciting a moan from your lips when he explored your mouth, you knew that he was planning to do something to you tonight.

grabbing your thighs so they wrapped around his hips, sam lifted off the couch without breaking apart from your lips. feverishly, you attacked his mouth as you clung to him like a lifeline; arms tightly clutching his shoulders as his hands were placed underneath your ass.

“c’mon,” he groaned out, breaking apart from your mouth so he could kiss down your neck. “let me show my girl something good.”

“please do.” you breathed, body bouncing as he dropped you on the mattress.

TAGS: @starzify @whisperingdaze @titsout4jackles @floralscented @deansbeer @haunteres @bluemerakis @deanssun @deanangel @gibson-g1rl @florchids @honeyryewhiskey @figthoughts @flow33didontsmoke @whump-loverz

NAT BABBLES: now why did this idea come to me as i was reading the boys of tommen book series??? (also can you tell i am giving these side characters the most basic and generic names known to man)

DIVIDER CREDS TO @strangergraphics

[barcenal999]

Ava's going pro

Lucy Bronze x Bronze!daughterOC

Summary: Lucy was a teen mom and her 17 year old daughter tells her she's signing her first professional contract with Barcelona

It's set in Janurary 2024

Tags: fluff

Word count: 5k

A/N: I've posted this on AO3 before, but decided to start posting here

Ava made two cups of tea and came up to Lucy, who was sitting on the couch and reading a book. Probably something she would recommend to her later.

"Mom? Can we talk?" She didn't even know why she was so stressed about it. It's not like her going pro was something they never talked about. It's just that everyone always assumed she would finish high school first.

Lucy put down her book, patting the seat beside her, for the teenager to take. "Sure. What is it? A new coming out? You're straight? You're trans? You know you can always tell me, it's not like it would change anything in the way I love you." Lucy was never good with talking about serious subjects, so when she felt one coming, she rambled before Ava could even bring up the topic. "Please tell me you're not pregnant. Please don't make the same mistakes I did. I mean, you're not a mistake. You're the best thing that's ever happened to me..." She would have probably been rambling forever if she wasn't interrupted.

"Mom! Stop! Please. I'm not pregnant. You've been teaching me about safe sex and using protection since I was 13 years old."

"Well you know it's good to teach your kid about protection when they're younger than you were, when you got pregnant with them. It's the first rule of being a teen parent.” Lucy got pregnant when she wasn’t even 15 yet. She was deep in denial, trying to convince herself that she wasn’t a lesbian. Dating an 18 years old boy however, ended with her accepting that she had no interest in boys. 2 months after breaking up with him, she found out she was gonna be a single lesbian teen mom. „And it's good that you're not pregnant. There's already enough people living in this house."

"And who's fault is that?" Ava laughed at her mother and was thankful for her deflection. Being bad at talking about serious subjects was definitely genetic.

"Hey! You said you were okay with my poliamory."

"Yes mom, I'm great with it and I like both Keira and Ona. Can we stop talking about sex and relationships now, and talk about the important thing I have to ask you?"

Lucy sighed, getting herself ready for anything her daughter could throw at her. While Ava took a sip of her tea, the footballer decided it would be safest to put her cup down on the coffee table.

Ava took a deep breath to psyche herself up.

"How would you feel if I played with you on the team? Like, if I signed with Barca?" Her fingers seemed surprisingly interesting in that moment.

"Well, I already assumed that it would be Barça you would be signing with when you go pro. By why are you asking me now? You still have over a year of school left."

"So about that... you remember how some of us from the B team have been invited to train with you a week ago?" She hesitantly looked up at Lucy, and only continued when she saw her nod her head. She was surprised that the only thing she saw on her mom's face was curiosity, which gave her a boost of confidence. "Jona approached me and offered me a first team contract, since my contract for the B team is ending. He said that the details could be discussed when you agree."

Lucy's smile grew as her daughter kept talking. When she finished, she pulled her into a bone crushing hug.

"That's wonderful that they noticed you honey. I don't think you should be asking me for permission. You're almost an adult and I think it's your decision, but I would be thrilled to play beside you.” She took Ava’s face in her hands and directed her to look her in the eyes. „I’m so proud of you. It’s like yesterday you were barely walking and already kicking a ball, and now you’re 17 and signing a contract with the best club in Europe.” She kissed her daughter’s forehead and let go of her face, trying to hide the tears filling her eyes.

So many years of doing her best at raising Ava, having the serious conversations when they were needed, yet she still couldn’t hold herself together. Immense pride filled her every time Ava achieved something new and she couldn’t control her emotions.

„I just want to be sure, that you’re ready for it.” The teenager stayed calm, as if it was her whos kid was about to sign a lifechanging contract, not the other way around. „Everyone will find out that you have me. The fans will know how young you had me.”

„I’ve had years to learn how to deal with the fans.” Lucy couldn’t get used to how mature her daughter has become. „How about we deal with it the good old Bronze way?"

„Tell no one and see how that goes for us? Sounds good to me. I wanna see people freak out and try to figure out our connection. My old teammates would always freak out about things like that. They’d create all of those speculations and conspiracy theories and I couldn’t say anything.”

That’s when they knew the conversation was over. Both Bronze women laughing and already turning on the TV, to watch another episode of Station 19.

When Keira and Ona came home a few hours later, there was a celebratory dinner waiting. Lucy didn’t let Ava help with any of the cooking and didn’t even let her set the table. „We’re celebrating you, so go sit down and put some music on.” She said, when the teen came asking what to do.

Ava was a big music fan and making hours long spotify queues and playlists was something she loved doing. Finding new music and then sharing it with her family was kind of a hobby for her.

„What is that smell?” Ona asked Ava, when she came up to greet her with a hug.

„I don’t know, she wouldn’t let me help, or even enter the kitchen.” Ava shrugged. „But if I was guessing from the smell, I would say she’s making my favourite lemon and chilli shrimp.” The smirk on her face told then, that she knew that was exactly that.

„Lucy! Why didn’t you let your kid help you with dinner?”

„It’s a special occasion! We’re celebrating her. I can’t let my daughter cook her own celebratory dinner.” When the two younger women heard that, Ona turned to look at Ava, while Keira turned to Lucy.

"What did you do?"

„Lucy! You weren’t supposed to encourage violent behaviour!”

They both said it at the same time and this time Lucy smiled sheepishly, like she actually had something to be ashamed of.

To be honest, the last time Lucy made a celebratory dinner for her daughter, was when Ava beat up a homophobe. When she picked her up from school, she told her teachers she would deal with her at home, but instead made a whole day celebrating her. She had to face a scolding from both her girlfriends that day.

„I didn’t do anything!” Ava lifted her hands in surrender.

„Yes you did. You are incredible.” Lucy said to the teenager and then turned to her girlfriends. „We’ll tell you as we eat.” They moved to the dining room and she grabbed an already opened bottle of white wine. “Ava? Do you want some?”

Lucy preferred for Ava to learn to drink responsibly under supervision, than for her to go out and learn it by drinking irresponsibly. She knew that her going out to drink with friends was inevitable, but she wanted for her to know how the alcohol affects her beforehand.

They finally sat down and Lucy distributed the shrimp (Ava was right) equally for everyone. As Ava started eagerly eating her dinner, Ona and Keira looked at Lucy expectantly. They were still sceptical, not sure if what they hear will actually be positive.

“So what’s the news?” Ava put down her fork, to tell them, but Lucy was faster.

“The details have not been discussed with the club yet, but Ava told me today, that she was offered a full senior team contract from Barca.” Both women who just heard the news stood up and wrapped the teenager in a tight hug.

“They said to discuss it with mom and then we’ll negotiate the contract. We’ll probably do the negotiations the day after tomorrow, since mom already called them to set it up. And it’s not like I need for them to pay me much, I’m not planning on moving out anytime soon. I already told mom I’ll contribute to the living costs accordingly, but she told me to save up the money and not worry about it.”

“It’s gonna be so fun to play and train with you!” Ona beamed. “We’re gonna cause so much mayhem.” She whispered in her ear, so that neither of the responsible adults (mostly Keira, neither of them was sure that Lucy could be called a responsible adult) could hear.

Lucy couldn’t believe this was her life. Two beautiful and wonderful girlfriends, who cared for her daughter. Ava starting a professional football career at just 17 years old. All four of them living their dreams in sunny Barcelona.

...

A week later, after Lucy’s morning field practice and Ava skipping out halfway through her school day, they were sitting in a room with a bunch of FC Barcelona officials, some of the coaching stuff. Pen in hand, number 17 shirt with the name A. Bronze on the back, Ava signed her contract. At first Lucy hid behind the cameras, not wanting to be captured by the media team. They also took some pictures with her in them, for later and for private use.

The team had an afternoon gym session that day, that Ava would be joining them on for the first time. They didn’t tell the rest of the team, besides the captains, about her contract, so it was going to be a surprise.

When everyone was finally in the gym, starting their workouts, Ava waited out the door with Jona. She was wearing her brand new training gear, with number 17. The coach entered the gym first, telling her to wait outside. He then got everyone’s attention. It took about 3 minutes, but finally everyone was quiet and looking at him.

“Most of you don’t know this yet, but we have a new player joining us, who just signed her contract.” It wasn’t surprising to have new people signing, since it was the middle of the January transfer window, and players often joined teams before it was announced.” Before I let her in, I’m seriously warning you, not to burn the whole training centre to the ground with her involved.” He pointed at the group of younger players. “I’m talking to you.” He opened the door to let Ava enter. “Everyone, welcome Baby England to the team!”

“Lucy why is your baby in our gym?!”

“Lucy you lost your kid again!”

“A little baby! Can I hold her?!”

“Jona! It’s dangerous to have little kids running around the gym.”

The teasing exploded within the gym, which caused Ava to frown. She tried to look upset, but in reality it made her happy, that she just signed her contract and her teammates immediately accepted her into their group, by teasing her and being annoying. This team was incredibly tight knit, many people bleeding blaugrana (Alexia especially). They were a family, and even though she, as Lucy’s daughter, was kind of already a part of it, now as their teammate she could finally be its actual member.

After about a minute of the room being filled with their teammates voices and laughter, Alexia decided that it was enough of teasing for Ava’s first hour on the team.

“Ok idiotas! Leave the kid be and get back to work. Vamos!" When everybody seemed to return to their own devices, Alexia turned to the teen. "We’re happy you’re joining us Ava and if you ever need anything and want to talk to someone who isn’t your mother or her girlfriends, I’m always there.”

After that, the team got back to their workouts, Jona explaining to Ava what she was supposed to be doing, and leaving them to be looked at by the performance coaching team.

When halfway throughout the session, their phones started to blow up (mostly Lucy’s), they knew that Ava joining the team has been announced to the public, and the mayhem of speculation has started.

The post description stated:

fcbfemeni We’re happy to announce, finishing her B team contract, U-20 England Lioness Ava Bronze has signed a 2 year senior team contract! Welcome to the family!

“Just so you know” Lucy warned everyone. “We’re not saying anything about Ava’s relation to me. We decided it would be funny to let the fans make up their own theories.”

“Idiotes” muttered Alexia, but her face was showing nothing but amusement.

Mapi, who was standing next to her, the two doing their rehab exercises together, burst out laughing.

“I think you mean geniuses!” She got a glare from unimpressed Ingrid.

“I can’t wait to watch all of the theories on tiktok.” Stated Ava. “Or tumblr. That one’s crazy, cause most people there are more or less anonymous. Some of you wouldn’t survive there.” She laughed to herself, thinking about the fanfics and crazy posts she’s seen on there.

“You have to show me.” Stated Mapi.

“I wanna see that.” Jana joined the conversation. “Mapi, can we create a tumblr account for you?”

“Si” She turned to Ingrid, who was already rubbing her temples, with a big grin on her face. “The kids will teach me the internet.”

“You guys, back to work, you can talk when we finish.” Alexia went back to her captain self.

...

Three days after Ava’s signing was announced, before they started their evening movie, she was reading speculation posts on social media. She was going through a post comparing her and Lucy’s characteristics, when Keira looked over her shoulder. (Lucy and her girlfriends usually respected her privacy, but now, they became her annoying older teammates, so the privacy went out the window.)

“How are you feeling with all that social media attention? Did the fact that your private life isn’t so private, catch up to you yet?”

“Nice try.” The teen switched her phone off. “My mom is considered one of the hottest female football players, and most of my friends growing up were women’s football fans. Let’s just say that your friends swooning over your mother, is both hilarious and traumatising.” Keira jumped over the back of the couch and sat next to her girlfriend’s daughter.

“Can’t blame them for appreciating how hot she is.” Ava smacked Keira’s shoulder and the redhead pretended it hurt her. “Okay, okay!” she laughed “What was that post about? I saw your face.”

Ava unlocked her phone to show Keira the post she was reading. “Wow, they’re attentive. I’ve lived with you for like half of your life and didn’t notice that you have the same facial bone structure as her.”

“Most people assume I’m her cousin. Some had the right idea, but quickly disputed it, saying that there’s no way she had me at 15 and managed to go pro a year later. Some people even found some pictures of her with little me.” She scrolled a few posts down, where the post had a picture of the 2009 University of North Carolina soccer team, with little Ava on Tobin’s shoulders. “No idea how they found it and connected the dots that it’s me."

“Some of those people should work for the FBI.” Keira laughed.

“Who should work for the FBI?” Asked Lucy, coming out from the kitchen into the living area, with two cups of tea. Ona walked behind her, focused on not spilling the tea, from her own two cups, that were filled to the brim.

“Some of the fans found some pictures from your UNC days and connected the dots, that the little kid in them is Ava. They’re trying to figure out your connection and some of them are scarily good at it.” Keira explained while the teenager showed them the post on her phone as proof.

With her other hand, Ava took the big cup of tea, that Lucy handed her. She took a sip, gave her phone over to Keira, and stood up to take out their favourite cup coasters from the drawer in the coffee table.

Each of them had their specific coaster.

Keira’s coaster, had a picture of Leah, that she took against her friend’s will. The England captain then gave her the coaster for Christmas, saying that it was so that she would think about her every time she drank tea at home.

Ona’s coaster had a Manchester United logo on it and she used it simply to annoy her girlfriends and Ava. When Ona moved to Barcelona, Lucy wrote “Is shit” below the club name. Still, at least she was sure no one in this household would ever use her coaster. She considered putting the United logo on other things she preferred to keep to herself and everyone kept stealing. Like her half a liter cup, that she drank tea from.

Lucy’s coaster was a part of a mother’s day gift she got from Ava. It had a picture of 18 year old Lucy, holding 3 year old Ava, thrown over her shoulder. A colourful Comic Sans writing said the classic “Best Mom Ever” in the middle. She had in made with her aunt Sophie’s help when she was 11, and Lucy never stopped using it since she got the gift.

Ava’s coaster had a quote from Avatar: The Last Airbender. It said “Sick of tea? That’s like being sick of breathing!” She had a matching tea cup, that had Uncle Iroh’s face on the other side. The teenager watched the show, from start to end, at least three times, so when she saw the set in a store, she couldn’t resist buying it.

Like always, it took them 15 minutes to decide on the film they would be watching. They settled on rewatching Ocean’s 8, since all of them loved it. The hot cast wasn’t discouraging either.

They situated themselves on the L shaped couch. Lucy and Ona sat next to each other, on the wider but shorter part of the lounge. Ava, laid across the longer part. Her head in Lucy’s lap, her legs on Keira’s knees.

It may have been a great movie, but Ava has seen it multiple times already, so despite Cate Blanchett in suits being on the screen, with her mom’s fingers running through her hair and Keira lazily drawing patterns of her bare legs, she was asleep halfway through it.

When she woke up, she was surprised to find herself in her own bed. It was like nothing changed since she was just 5 years old and Lucy would carry her to bed. She may have not known about the kisses that Lucy left on her forehead, as she tucked her 17 year old daughter, into her bed, but she felt a warm feeling in her chest and knew how much her mom cared about her.

...

Every new signing had to do a media video, to show herself to the fans. So a week after signing her contract, Ava had to come to the training facility an hour before practice started. The media team led her to a seat in front of some cameras, with the training field behind her back.

“So, we asked fans on social media, to leave questions for you.” One of the media people (Ava didn’t remember their name and was too embarrassed to admit it) started. “We chose some that we thought were most appropriate. That alright with you?” They checked, in case the teen wasn’t comfortable with answering questions on camera.

“I’m good.” She was given about ten cards with questions printed on them and smiled. “Vamos!” She laughed and the camera stared rolling.

“Hi! I’m Ava Bronze and this is fan questions!” She claimed in fluent Spanish, looking into the camera.

“First question is from Mila.” She read from the first card. “Hola Mila!” She looked back up at the camera and waved. Then, she looked back down and continued reading. “’What is your favourite food?’ I love that question, cause I love food. I love things like ice cream and oat cookies, but for food I’m actually allowed to eat more of than sweets, my favourite is probably one of the only meals I can actually cook by myself, which are shrimps, with lemon, chili and garlic. We usually eat it on special occasions with my mom. She cooked it for me when she found out I was offered a pro contract.”

“Next one is from Reyna. ‘Who’s your favourite football player and who did you idolise growing up?’ Well, since I’m a striker, my favourite player is Ewa Pajor. She’s incredible and I think she’s the most underrated player. I got to meet her at the previous champions league final and she was super nice, even though she was sad cause they lost. My dream is to one day learn the bicycle kick from her. As for the players I idolised growing up. Well, I’m one of the few people my age who mostly watched women’s football and not the men’s. Another striker, Ellen White was always someone I looked up to. I love Tobin Heath, she’s brilliant on the ball and her style of play is very similar to Barca’s tight spaces technique. I was never interested in defending, but I always admired Lucy Bronze.”

“Jake asks, ‘What are your hobbies outside of football?’. Well Jake, I have so many we could make a separate video about them.” She laughed, but the media team noted it for another time. “First of all, one of my biggest, and most known among friends and family is photography. I love capturing the worlds beauty, without changing anything, just showing it as it is. I love traveling, which is kind of connected with every other hobby. I love hiking, rock climbing, mountain biking and sailing. Also, I listen to music all the time and love going to concerts. All of those hobbies include travel, so does football, so that’s a good thing.” She was about to go to the next question, but looked up to add one thing. “Also, I saw the media team taking notes when I said we could make a video about my hobbies, so I’m sure you’ll be seeing more about them in the future.”

“The next question is from Anya. ‘What do you like about Barca and what’s your favourite club team?’ Well, I have two favourite club teams and one of them is Barca. My mom will kill me for saying that publicly, but my other favourite team is Arsenal. She’s not a fan of red English clubs, especially Manchester United and Arsenal. But I love both Barca and Arsenal for similar reasons. Both clubs have this culture of family in football. Like, both of the teams have players who would never leave their team. Their academies are strong and many players grow up to be culers or gunners. There’s this loyalty that other clubs often don’t have. Like, not only for players but also fans. With other clubs, people are often fans of the footballers that play for them and not as much of the club, but with those two, it’s about more than the football. At least that's my view, even though most clubs have their die hard fan community. It’s a whole culture of those clubs that people love and I think it’s admirable.” She took a deep breath and looked down at the badge on her shirt. “I’ve moved a lot in my childhood, so I never had the opportunity to grow up within one club, but there are people like Alexia and Leah Williamson, who bleed their club’s colours.”

Ava answered all of the questions given to her and as she was at the last one, she noticed a few of her teammates making funny faces at her, telling her that training was about to begin. She laughed at them and looked into the camera.

“I can see some of my teammates telling me to wrap this up. Thank you for the questions, they were all great and I can’t wait to see you all in the crowd soon!” The camera was cut and the media team thanked her and let her go with the other girls.

...

Unlike other girls coming up from the B team, Ava came into the first team in the middle of the season and wasn’t there to replace an injured player. The coaches decided to give her two weeks of getting used to playing with the first team in training before they named her on the game day players list. It's not like she had not ever played in the first team before, but it was her first time as officially the senior player.

Her first match was an away game against Sevilla. She started out on the bench, with her mom sitting next to her.

“Stop kicking the grass. You’ll leave a hole.” Lucy put a hand on her knee to stop it from bouncing nervously.

“I think I’m gonna be sick.” Ava said, but her mom knew it was just the stress talking and her daughter wasn’t actually feeling sick. “What if I trip over my own legs and embarass myself? It has happened before.”

“You’ll be fine. You’ve been doing great in training. Jona wouldn’t have put you on the team list if he didn’t think you were ready.” She smiled and waited for Ava to look at her. “We’ve talked about it. You’ll probably come on in the 75th or 80th minute for Pina. You’ll do what you do best and rock it out there. You’re my daughter, you’ll do great.” Ava laughed at her mother’s ego, but visibly relaxed.

Just like always, the team was doing great. Pina scored in the 18th minute and they went into halftime with a 1-0 lead over Sevilla.

Around the 70th minute, when Caro and Salma were coming in for Vicky and Esmee, Jona told Ava, Lucy, Patri and Bruna to start warming up. While they were running on the sidelines, three minutes after coming in, Caro scored a goal and they ran to celebrate with the rest of the bench. Not even two minutes later, Mario added her name to the scoreline.

The time for them to come on couldn’t come faster and at the same couldn’t come fast enough. As she lined up, Ava was starting to panic. She was lined up in front of Lucy and when the ref showed her number in green, she felt her mom kick her in the ass. “You’ll do great. Just go out there and have fun.”

With that, she hugged Claudia, who ran up to her to leave the field. As she entered the game, the whole stress disappeared. Everything went quiet. She had 10 minutes of game time left and she used it wholly.

It was the 89th minute, when Ava found herself at the good end of a beautiful pass from Patri. Without hesitation she took the ball down to her feet, weaved around the last defender and with all her might, kicked the ball into the top right corner. The goalkeeper tried to save it, flying as high as she could, but she just couldn’t get her fingers on the ball in time.

Before she could even register what happened, she was being lifted in the air by Patri and surrounded by all of her teammates. “That’s my kid!” Lucy’s voice came though the ringing in her ears. When she was put down on the ground, she felt Ona put an arm around her and tap her head. “That’s our wonder kid!” She kissed her on the cheek and ran off, back into her position.

Not much happened after her goal. It was the final minutes, so they just passed the ball between each other, waiting for the final whistle. When it final came, a big smile took over Ava’s face. It was like she was high. Scoring a goal in her first game for the first team, coming out on the field with her mom right behind her. Her mom’s girlfriends out there with them. She was surrounded by family and friends. She couldn’t believe how great it felt to be there.

...

It was an evening game, so they were staying at a hotel in Sevilla. They didn’t even get back to the hotel when Ava got an Instagram notification, that Lucy tagged her in a post. She decided not to look at it, until she was back in her room with Vicky. Her teammates had other plans. “Aww, how cute.” “Look at that little face.” “Ava, you were so cute as a kid, what happened?” Could be heard through the coach and she had to change plans and look at the post.

lucybronze How proud I am to be your mom. It feels like just yesterday I was becoming a teen mom, I look back a second later and you’re already scoring goals for Barcelona’s first team. Where did this time go? So proud of you my baby 🥳

The first picture showed a 2 year old Ava kicking a football into a tiny goal set up in Lucy’s parent’s garden. The next one came from an hour before, taken in the perfect moment, when the ball left her foot and was flying towards the goal. There were a few more pictures of Ava playing football through the years, but the first two were most the important.

Five minutes after Lucy uploaded the post, both Bronze women had to put their phones on do not disturb mode, cause they were constantly vibrating with notifications.

While laying in bed, ready to go to sleep that night, she looked back at her day. She was playing football and scoring goals for the team of her dreams at just 17 years old. She had her mom by her side. The team was wonderful. She grew up surrounded by football players and now, she was one of them. This was her dreams coming true.

[occamstfs]

MuskMask Up

Found footage of the missing persons Eddie Leon and Bowen Chen, last seen vlogging at a new gym with a mandatory mask policy. Well documented is what seems to happen when one forgets theirs.

Mixing it up a bit! Diary entries within a short metanarrative police investigation- Meat of the story is coworkers bulking up at an advanced rate after borrowing masks from the gym, hope you enjoy! -Occam

The following footage was found by the now missing-in-action Detective Smith during a missing persons investigation of civilians Eduardo “Eddie” Leon and Bowen Chen. If you have any information on the whereabouts of the pair or Detective Smith please call APD with information.

February 1st:

The scene opens with Eddie’s face inches away from a tripod he’s setting up. Behind him, stretching outside the entrance to a gym, is coworker Bowen Chen. Eddie smiles once he sees the camera has begun recording and backs away to start the first vlog on his journey to better health. Hopping up and waving both hands with abandon, he does just that.

“Heyyy guys! Today’s day one of hitting the gym with Bowen! Obviously he knows what he’s doing so this whole thing should be a piece of cake- I mean look at him!” He gestures to his friend mid-drink of water and Bowen quickly chokes it down before shyly responding. Face blushing pink as he’s clearly not nearly as comfortable on camera.

“Ah, uhm- Yes. Hello, audience? I’ve been ah uhm, steady? At the gym for a few years now and Eddie was wondering if I could show him the ropes. Sooo, uhm.” Eduardo was very clear that he was going to be doing a vlog about the whole thing but Bowen had no idea how much a camera would put him on edge. Seeing him flounder and hearing every word come quieter than the last Eddie quickly picks up the slack.

“So yeah! We’re going to a new gym that opened up, all their ads brag about retention rate and quick results which is what I’m all about haha!” Seeing a man in a face mask come through the automatic doors behind him Eddie claps his hands and tacks on, “OH! They also still require face masks which, I don’t mind,” he playfully grasps his friend’s jaw causing blush to return over a shy grin, “it does mean you might be seeing less of this little cutie’s face but so it goes~ When in Brome hee hee!” 

Bowen’s phone goes off as a timer set to ensure the pair stretch for long enough comes to an end. He then chastises Eddie for spending so long of their prep time vlogging before crossing his arms and resetting the clock to make sure his trainee stretches. Eddie quickly turns off the vlog with a wink, “Yikes already on his bad side haha~ See y’all later!”

February 9th:

“Helloooo guys~ Took my mask off real quick to record this.” He pauses to sniff the air and almost gags as he smells the musk of the gym, usually covered by his mask. “God is this what all gyms smell like?” Looking down at his sweat stained body and glistening chest he grimaces as he guesses he’s certainly not helping. Shaking it off he returns to his vlog, “Hm. I’ll edit that out- Helloooo Guys! You would not believe how much progress I’ve made already!”

He does a small flex and it’s clear he has put on more weight than would be expected, or rather more weight in a week than should be possible. “No one tells you how much you have to eat to put on mass, guys! Or I guess- Bowen told me huh?” He giggles and then jolts upright and turns the camera to his trainer working at a machine. “Speaking of gains there Mr. Mass is himself.” Behind the lens Eddie continues, “I forgot my mask today so the sweetie let me borrow his. Hear that ladies? This hunk’s also a gentleman. Someone get a ring on that finger!”

As Eddie continues to film Bowen’s reps it’s clear that something besides the effort is causing him discomfort. In fact it almost seems like the workout isn’t bothering him at all as he rolls his eyes before bending down to put more weight on the machine. With a free hand he plugs his nose to have the slightest moment of freedom from the musky scent that must be distracting him. Then as soon as he grunts through his first rep at the new weight a figure appears behind him, wearing a mask over the whole of his head and taps on his shoulder before clearly preparing to confront him.

“Oop, oh shit-” Eddie whispers, too far from his trainer to know what exactly the little confrontation is about, but after a few gestures to his maskless face it’s pretty clear. The sound of Eddie quickly putting his mask back on can be heard behind the camera as across the gym Bowen clearly nods a few times, assumedly acquiescing, motioning to pack up and head back later. He apologies and gestures for Eddie to head to the locker room but then the sweaty masked man waves him off and pats him on the back, pulling out a mask from his sweatpants.

Bowen’s gasp is loud enough to be heard enough on camera as he backs into the machine in shock as the brute holds out a mask retrieved from his sweaty pants. He waves his hands clear as day that he’s not about to put on that must-be stained mask. Eddie quickly gets off his machine and starts to head over check in on his friend. He knows Bowen hates attention and is wont to fold at any confrontation but surely he’s not about to be pressured into putting on that dirty rag.

Keeping the camera trained on Bowen just in case, he’s too focused on the shot to really notice the fear in the man’s eyes as he stares up at the masked figure. And then, with a gulp, Bowen shakily accepts the mask, close enough to read lips one could just about make out Bowen’s whispered apology, “I’m sorry sir it won’t happen again” And then he does the unthinkable and puts on the dirty mask. Eddie reacts quietly enough only for the camera to pick up, “Jesus Christ- Bo!? What are you doing?!” 

After the masked man pats Bowen on the back, harder than one surely should, and offers a rough handshake, he departs. The camera captures a few more frames as Eddie walks the final few feet over. While not covered in sweat, it’s clear that the mask on Bowen’s face is wrinkled and has a small dark patch in its corner. Either from the workout or from the anxious confrontation, the trainer is clearly breathing heavily. 

With each breath his eyes begin to glisten glassy. Staring off into the middle distance he adjusts his pants and seems distracted as each heaving breath strives to be deeper than the one that came before, as each gasp of musky air tries to instill more of the essence trapped within the wretched mask. His eyes almost begin to cross in the last frame before Eddie puts his phone in his pocket, leaving the last few seconds of the recording audio only. “Uhhhhm, Hey Bowen? What the fuck was that?”

There is a few seconds pause followed by the sound of presumably Bowen swallowing saliva before he answers “Oh! Uhhh yeah? I don’t know dude?” “Dude?” “Sorry my head feels like it’s swimming, Eddie? That was so uhh, intense-” The sound of adjusting clothing again comes through, someone pulling on the elastic band of their underwear.

Realizing the whole confrontation only happened because he forgot his own mask, Eddie apologizes, “That wouldn’t have happened if I didn’t take yours. Look we can swap if you-”“NO.” Silence follows once more before Bowen continues, “No I uhm- don’t mind br- Eddie. How about we call it there and head home?” Eduardo agrees and the pair head off to the locker room. After a few steps the recording ends.

February 15th:

The image begins as usual of Eddie from afar, though the sound of weight’s clanging is far louder than usual. After a few false starts interrupted by the din of falling metal, the vlogger walks a few feet away and begins talking to the camera, “Hey everyone, quick update this time-” Flexing to himself he takes a moment to address his continued growth before in the distance he hears brash, deep laughter and what little of his face is revealed makes his worry clear as day.

“I’m still chugging along but Bowen has, well blown up? Ever since the last vlog when that asshole made him wear a dirty mask it’s almost like he’s a totally different person? Here, look-” Eddie quickly pans the camera over to a man almost unrecognizable resting on a bench. Beyond having arms as large as Bowen’s legs should be, the man’s demeanor is indeed entirely different. He flexes his arm and moans to himself as he sees a central vein pushing against the strained shirt sleeve.

“Is it steroids? Do you think? OH! He’s also started using the masks the gym provides- Are there like, inhale-y steroids?” The vlogger quickly heads to the web to research, paying no mind to what the lens catch as the camera unintentionally witnesses the massive man lumbering up from his bench, leaving an unwiped sweat stain in his wake.

Massive pecs bounce with each step and thighs strain his shorts as he makes his way over to Eddie, “YO! Edster- Come help me stretch!” Eddie flinches as he’s shouted at, groaning uncomfortably he obeys his trainer. Forgetting he was taking a vlog at all he sets his phone down. The air fills with groans, cracking bones, and almost deliberately loud grunts from Bowen.

“You know I seem to remember you wanting to not put on too much weight Bo?” 

There’s a deep guffaw, “Pshyeah, but y’know, when the muscle-bug bites huhuh!” The sound of his sleeves straining from a performative flex covers up his breathy moan from hyperextension. “Woah bro, why do you look so down?”

Clearly not thinking his mood would be caught by a man whose only gear has suddenly become self-obsessed, Eddie stumbles, “Well I don’t know, I guess? I’m just worried about- You just seem a little different is all.

“Huh.” There’s a long silence interrupted only by the buzz of music and clanging weights far off. Then there’s a quick gasp as in one motion Bowen stands and hoists Eddie into the air, “woAH! Bo! Put me down!” 

“Huhuh no bro I get it- You don’t know why you’re not seein’ results as good as mine I totally get it!” Eddie grunts and gags in arms that truly could snap him in half, “Ugh B- you’re so sweaty ple-ugh.” Squirming in the behemoth’s grasp his face is forced into sweaty pecs that promptly stain his mask a dark blue. “God you’re going to get your b.o. All over me dude-” 

There are a few more seconds of complaint before Bowen finally drops his little buddy. Picking up his phone there’s a look of concern or questioning on his face, any number of thoughts soar through his mind, has Bowen always been that tall? Why has he grown so much? What happened to him, is it going to happen to me? And then he takes a deep breath. A sigh in relief or irritation, it’s unclear, but it doesn’t matter. The camera gets a much better glimpse this time as the gym-goer breaths in the oh-so musky, mask filtered air.

Under the mask his mouth squrims into a grimace, but already eyes begin to give way to thoughtless longing. With another breath one twitches while the other falls open wide, wanting nothing more than to mainline the scent directly into his nervous system. Pupils dilate large enough to almost hide his cacao irises before a meaty hand pats him on the back, “Earth to Eddo- Bro? You comin’ to wash up or what huhuh!” Jarred back to sentience, Eddie nods and follows him, the recording ending a few moments after.

February 22nd:

The camera alights on someone unrecognizable baring his torso for fans he doesn’t yet have, though the glazed look in his eyes is more than enough hint to prove it is the vlogger before he introduces himself. “Yoooo guys! Back at it again with Bowen, how’re we lookin?”

Eddie flexes a thick bicep and smirks under his mask, adjusting it as he laughs. It’s deeper, slower, a far cry from his usual giggle. “oh yeah, I’ve been usin’ the gyms masks just like Bowen said. And I gotta say, I think they’re the real secret of this place, I’ve just been packin’ on muscle since I started borrowing them.”

Standing to his side, Bowen makes himself known, somehow even bulkier than last time. Veins criss cross his forearms and shoulders stretch wide enough that it’s a wonder he was able to even get the suctioned compression shirt om. The thin elastic straps of his mask almost snap as he speaks up, the meek camera-shy man he once was clearly erased from his mind, “I’m saying Ed! Don’t know why you were holdin’ out on trying them after seeing how much I’ve grown!” Bowen crosses his arms and his top is stretched to his limits.

Eddie laughs before his eyes go dull as laughter leaves him with no choice but to take yet another deep breath. Lost in a thought that seems to never come, his words are barely audible enough to be caught by the camera almost mistakable for a moan, it may as well be one. He whispers “need more.” Drawn out like a death knell his vocal chords creak as they lengthen. And then, the camera captures the impossible.

It looks as if it’s edited. Arms go limp as they hang lower, bloat larger, heavier, barely staying in their sockets before his shoulders similarly bulge into thick balls of muscle. Pecs that have existed for less than a month push his sweaty tank top to its limits. The bench on which he rests creaks under his weight as thighs send tears through athletic shorts that were already too tight to wear. 

Behind him, his massive trainer’s eyes widen as he pauses his workout to stare at Eddie’s growth. Hungrily watching as individual strands of muscle flex and surge. Were his own mask not already sweat-stained, the drool frothing from his mouth may be more apparent. Bowen lets his weights clatter to the floor as he staggers close and leans in close to Eddie’s neck, sniffing like a predator, releasing something in between a whimper and grown as his scarred palms clench at his prey-apparent’s biceps, still bulging larger in his hands.

Bowen’s chest, over doubled in size since he began frequenting this gym, produces a rumble low enough to barely register as words. Through his mask he teeths the man’s neck, “Think I got another idea to get some gains Eddie.” This stirs the man from his reveries though does not for minute stop his growth as he bolts to his feet, almost falling forward from the new weight on his chest. Surely he would have had the man about to work him out maintained the iron grip on his arm.

Not another word is heard from the pair as they swiftly retreat to the locker room. The tripod continues filming until Eddie’s phone dies and contains little else of note. Other gym goers wander around the background, all of them masked and many of them stare forward with the same glazed eyes as they sit at various machines, laughing to themselves, breathing heavily, and lifting more with each heaving rep. Just before his phone dies and the recording ends, the man who gave Bowen his mask collects the tripod, through his mask a smile is clear on his face.

On March fifteenth newly promoted Detective Archie Smith follows up on a lead from coworkers of the missing men that the pair had recently started hitting up the Musclerade Gym. something about vlogging. The detective didn’t care. Miraculously, almost immediately did he find a pair of men who identify as Eduardo and Bowen. The only thing is-both resolutely deny ever having worked in an office building. Beyond that, it barely takes a glance to tell that despite their names and races that they cannot be the men in question. By sheer body weight alone, it’s impossible

Sure Mr. Chen looks healthy enough in his license photo but that massive hunk that stands before him could punch straight through the Detective. With a gulp Archie finds his eyes desperately wanting to trace the powerful muscles, begging for his attention through spandex and strained nylon. He finds his attention drawn to his own crotch as he can’t help but trace the veins on ‘Eduardo’s’ flexing arms to a hairy armpit dripping with sweat. Before he’s lost to his lusts however, he comes to his senses as the acrid musk pouring from both men sears his nose.

With a grunt he shakes off the beyond unprofessional distraction and meets the eyes of both men, neither too pleased to see the officer in their space. He fakes a smile and turns to continue his investigation before being intercepted by a man who seems to be of some authority, pulling him off to the side. Only his eyes are visible which sets Archie on edge. “What seems to be the problem officer?”

He explains his case and the mystery man calls the pair over, their harsh glares soften and Eddie laughs as he’s reminded of his little vlogs. Apparently the pair are trainers at the gym which despite some strange ping at the back of his mind, ignoring something screaming from his gut, when he sees their sculpted forms, smells their noxious odors, he can’t help but believe them. The masked man even offers to give him the recorded film, that is as long as he’s okay adhering to the gym’s guidelines while he waits.

There’s a glint in the eyes of both massive men now standing behind him as they each dislodge wrinkled masks from stained pants that have clearly suffered at least one gym session. Prepared to suffer more discomfort than this to sate his curiosity he throws on one of the hopefully unused masks. It’s at this point that the case goes cold. 

This recounting of events, along with a copy of Eduardo Leon’s ‘vlogs’ were found sloppily scrawled on some magazines near the shredded uniform of Officer Smith. It doesn’t seem to be his handwriting unless he were racing quite hastily against, well. I haven’t quite the idea what. I suppose it is of some note that they were next to a bloated member of the gym who didn’t have any I.D. on him. His clothes seemed to be from a lost and found as they didn’t fit quite right. We were unable to further investigate his identity, but without a doubt it simply could not be Officer Smith.

The junior officer who retrieved the evidence could scarcely spend five minutes next to the man, and given Smith’s predilections towards order and cleanliness it simply could not be him. Unfortunately the state of the gym put the officer in such unease that he did no further investigation. It’s a shame as when an investigation team was sent the following day it was as if the gym was never there. I am not one for flights of fancy, it is my belief that the whole situation was simply some drug front, perhaps steroids. At any rate should you see, or perhaps smell any of these men. I advise caution. And under no circumstances should you borrow one of their face masks, obviously.

Included above are to our best knowledge are the most recent sightings of Bowen Chen, Eduardo Leon, and finally a third depicting Eduardo alongside who we believe to be the man of interest found nearby Officer Smith’s uniform. It seems they haven’t stopped growing, that is, if this all isn’t some wild goose chase. Again, if you have information do report to APD. Though please refrain from submitting any, biological material. We have lost enough of the forensics department to this mania as is.

[ressjeon]

for the drabble event i wanted to ask if you could

jjk

eros + pragma

row 3+seat 1

chips + bottled water + slushie

i’m so excited and i can’t wait to see how you’ll write it,, i’ve never requested something before and youre one of my favorite authors <3

pairing: roommate!jungkook x fuckgirl!reader

summary: the normal way of trapping your adorable roommate in your allure has been leading to nowhere, prompting you to approach him in subtle ways until you become irresistible in his eyes.

genre/au: angst, smut, roommate!au, college!au

warnings/content: explicit sexual content, jealousy, free use?fingering, doggy, backshots, angry sex? humiliation cuz kookie's mean :(

a/n: it's been 3 years since you've requested this anon and for that i apologize. i hope you'll still manage to see/read this now though and thank you for requesting! i'm honoured to be one of your favourite authors <3

☞ part of @btsgoldnetwork’s two hearts, one love valentine’s day event in 2022 🎞💓

🍿 bangtan theatre presents: irresistible 🍿 purchases for movie tickets and snacks are now closed!

Jungkook’s confused when he gets a whiff of another sweet scent coming from across his room. For about two weeks now, he noticed his roommate lighting up scented candles and placing them around their shared apartment.

Which is pretty random because you never do things like this. 

He’s wondering what brought you to start using scented candles when you didn't have the slightest interest in it before. Jungkook tried giving you one as a welcome gift when you first became roommates but you never even touched it until these days.

“where did you buy this one?”

You're startled with your roommate's question. It’s the first conversation you have with him regarding your current obsession. He's never acknowledged it verbally although you remember him scrunching his nose when you wore your bold perfume once before going on a date.

“i’m not sure to be honest, it’s a gift”

It is; only one of the many that you received from your long string of admirers. They were hoping that you'll see them more often through these gifts after you expressed your “love” of scented candles.

When in fact, it’s for your gorgeous roommate. 

You’re aware of Jungkook’s fondness for smells and after the direct flirting on him didn't work, you resorted to this. Using those boys for your agenda didn't really impose any guilt within you. They're exactly the same type as you but thankfully, they're pussy whipped that it was so easy to weave them into your plans on getting your roommates attention.

After you realize your fondness and interest are turning into serious feelings for Jungkook, you've expressed your feelings to him as clearly as you could. However, you didn't know how to approach him after his subtle rejections on your usual method.

Your feelings for Jungkook genuinely bloomed that you've stopped bringing guys over even when he's not home. It's a basic rule to respect each other's boundaries; the both of you having an agreement where only one can bring someone over when the other is not home.

Sometimes, Jungkook catches the boys coming out from your room, nodding at them in greeting but then ignores you afterwards. You tried whisking it as him being awkward seeing some people knew knows. Many times, you've contemplated on breaching the subject but he's barely home anyway. When he does, you flirt with him to see if he still gets flustered. He does and when he's in a pleasant mood though, he greets you and you relish them because it's rare.

Just like his smiles.

Jungkook wants to ask who gave those gifts but he already knows. He didn’t need to see the fancy paper bags on the counter to guess where those candles came from. It's given by those boys you’ve been seeing lately, if it's from the same person or multiple people, he's not sure and he doesn't want to find out.

What he's sure of is your reputation. He's aware of you because your popularity even reaches to other universities nearby. You've built your reputation since the start of freshman year so he was a bit hesitant in accepting you as a roommate before.

Another thing he's aware of is that you never take boys seriously hence he’s been wary each time you flirt with him. It seems so natural to you while he gets flustered. You find his reactions amusing though, as if you can’t tell that you do have an effect on him more than you think you do.

"you look great today kookie"

"we should do a movie night!"

"jungkook you're so adorable"

All your attempts at luring him went into dust and you can't figure out why. He can tell from your face each time he doesn't respond to you and does feel bad but he had to. Like a typical scenario, Jungkook did develop feelings for you no matter how much he tried avoiding so. He went as far as focusing on things that hurt him to reduce whatever he feels for you but to no avail and it scared him. He didn’t want to be one of those guys that you drop after sleeping with them.

However, he’s been getting better than before, reaching as far as rejecting you directly.

"you really think i'd believe that you out of all people, like me" he points to himself exaggeratedly but that's not what concerns you.

It's his eyes that are full of loathing after hearing your confession. He just arrived from one of his late lectures to find you preparing dinner for the two of you with a big smile on your face. He didn't read too much into it because you could just be hungry. Although, he should've because your full confession was something that he didn't anticipate.

“what do you mean? come on kookie, why don’t you believe me?” your voice came out a bit whiny when you realized that he's dead serious.

"what? you think i'll give in quickly?"

Maybe it's his ego talking but seeing the uncertainty in your face boosts his confidence a bit. Jungkook doubts other guys were able to make you react this way. He's the first and he'll hold out as long as he can. You've been making it pretty difficult lately but he still can't trust you.

"that was never my intention. i genuinely like you, kook"

"no? didn't you wanna sleep with me? be honest" he barks, crossing his muscular arms across his chiseled chest, challenging you to deny it.

"i-i do but—" you admit, shying your eyes away from his intense gaze.

This confrontation was last on your bingo card for this month. You just wanted to try again, confessing your feelings like a normal person even though it's not something that you're used to. But here Jungkook is, breaking your heart into pieces like none of those ever mattered to him.

"let's just get this over with" he suddenly says after a few minutes of silence and you didn't even get to process what he's saying cause he's suddenly on you.

Jungkook closes in as he focuses on your lips. Your lips that he wanted to kiss since that morning he found you adorably tip-toeing in the hallways to not wake him up. He had back to back football practice back then along with deadlines that he was extra tired every night because of the lack of sleep.

You welcomed his lips with fervour, closing your eyes and clutching his wrist when he grabbed your jaw to tilt it, deepening the kiss. Believe it or not, you used to dream of this, going as far as imagining that it's Jungkook when you're kissing other guys.

His kisses are harsh, with lots of teeth clashing and he's biting your lower lip for you to grant him entrance in which you did. Jungkook just wants his mind to shut off, to drown in you for once without second guessing his moves and yours.

For all he knows, you could only be playing with him but Jungkook doesn't care about that now. It's funny because it was you who initially pursued him and this time it's him. Jungkook will be damned if he doesn't make sure that he'll be the best you'd ever had. Never mind that you've fucked many guys before; he doesn't even wanna think if you will still fuck other guys after he's done with you.

You've basically given Jungkook free reign, looking at him with glossy eyes as you kneel by the couch after he releases you. Looking at you now, you look behaved while waiting for him. Jungkook could walk away right now to end this, to get back at you real bad but it's too late.

He's held back for too long and he feels like he's going to explode. All his mind can think of is how he's finally got you where you wanted to be. Letting himself go just for tonight would solve something, he's hoping.

Whatever the consequences are after this.

Jungkook doesn't make a move as he undresses, his piercing gaze eyeing you while you're finishing up discarding your clothes. You gauge what he's thinking, only that his pupils have dilated as he scans your bare body.

"why kookie what's wrong? you don't want me to suck you off? come here" you call him invitingly, batting your lashes at him but unlike other boys, Jungkook remains unaffected.

Or maybe not.

"no, you don't deserve it. why would you be?" he goads you and you're left speechless as you stand back up, climbing on the couch in all fours to entice him. "because i like you?" your voice came out quietly, full of desperation, looking back to hopefully catch his eyes.

Jungkook only scoffs as a response, the heel of his large palm pressing the top of your ass to push your body down until you're fully lying on the couch.

"like me? ah yes. but you like many guys y/n, like them enough to fuck them right?" he replies with a menacing tone and once again, you're left trying to process what he means by his questions but that flutters away when the tips of fingers runs along your drenching slit.

He's teasing you of course, he already said you didn't deserve to suck his cock earlier so maybe he'll only give you his fingers. It doesn't matter; it's the furthest you've ever had with Jungkook intimately so you'll just accept whatever he gives you.

Jungkook's waiting until he hears any complaint from you but it's been more than a minute and you've remained except for the heavy breaths you let out the longer he keeps his ministrations on you. He enters one finger to test your tight walls but also to see what you're playing at.

Another finger after a while and you're getting impatient no matter how much you coach yourself that Jungkook's just taking his time with you. When he pushes in the third one, that's when your body jerks, pushing back against his hand.

"there you go. thought i'd have to wait longer" he snickers, increasing the speed of his fingers. "kook—" you whine, unable to hold back your moans anymore.

Then Jungkook stops you by removing his fingers all together.

"up" he instructs and despite your frustrations, you did raise your body, going back on your knees. You didn't want to turn back now just in case you annoy him, wiggling your ass to give him a sign that you're more than ready for his cock.

Jungkook planned to fuck you in the previous position but it's too intimate. Even when he can't see your face, you'd still be so close to his body and it'll crack his barriers. He'd love to fuck you while seeing your face but that would allow you to see how vulnerable he is around you.

"jungkook..please move" you immediately cry out once he pushed in because he stayed still. You're tempted to grind back, your sensitive walls have been clamping around his dick, adjusting to his size that made him grip on your hips tightly.

"who says you can demand anything from me? you're lucky i'm giving you what you want." he spits but he begins moving his hips, ruthless unlike you've imagined before.

Jungkook's wrong. Everything is the opposite of what you wanted. He's barely even touching you, hands never moving from your waist just to hold you steady. Your brain's clouded with the pleasure that he's giving so you focus on that instead; relishing the tightness of his hold depending on his mood.

"kookie—fuck" you scream out when he finally angles his hip, hitting that soft spot inside you that you couldn't help but reach back to grasp his hand. He swats it away and you whine out, he's clearly displeased but maybe this is a way for him to believe you.

Jungkook doesn't want any ounce of affection from you. He's supposed to be mad, well he is, fully enraged with his insecurity that he's never been good enough for you. Plus, he'd be lying to himself that he was never jealous with all those guys you brought over. It's the reason he never stays home long, to avoid seeing them with you but he still did.

He's liked you for months already, showing his affections by cooking you breakfast and doing most of the chores when you're out with your friends or at parties. He never complained even when you started flirting with him, dodging you as much as he could because you're doing it to toy with him.

"just take it will you? acting like you've never had cocks in you before..." he drawls as he speeds up, leaving you mewling with tears welling in your eyes at the wave of humiliation that crashes on you.

You're back to gripping the leather couch when his fingertips brushes your swollen clit, flicking the bud after and you almost came.

But you didn't. Jungkook made sure of that.

All night he repeats teasing and fucking you endlessly until your body convulses, only stopping and doing it again. For a moment, you almost forgot who you're fucking with the amount of stamina that he has. Although you did fuck many athletes before, Jungkook still surprised you with his self control.

"no more.." your voice is hoarse with all the nonstop screaming and thankfully Jungkook stops his ministrations. "n-no, no i wanna cum, please kookie~"

"mhmm..shit..okay"

He's not faring well either but you could barely tell when all you can hear are his deep guttural moans and the skin slapping echoing around. You're both very sweaty but Jungkook's large hands miraculously maintained their grip on your body. Eventually, you both reach your climaxes, having Jungkook pull out and finish on your back to your dismay.

"wanted..inside.." you mumble, nuzzling the couch's arm. You only hear a tsk from him before you feel a piece of clothing rubbing along your sweaty skin. You've closed your eyes at the comfort but tried opening them when he turned your body around.

Then the combination of the mind blowing orgasm and exhaustion knocked you off to sleep. 

You've woken up sore everywhere but it doesn't compare to the ache in your heart when you couldn't see Jungkook anywhere in the living room. You don't even wanna try to get up or call his name in case he's inside his bedroom. He's not but you'd like to hope because of last night.

He took care of you, providing you with your own blanket and pillows after cleaning you up. Thankfully, you had no early lectures today; you were pretty much spent so the energy for attending classes is at total zero.

Not going is a more tempting option for you though, the chance to see Jungkook is high with how involved he is on campus. He's quite popular as well but not on the same type as you which was how he possibly found out this much about your history. You've met other girls who've hooked up with him before, telling you how he's actually more on the subby side which further increases your interest on your roommate.

You blink, realizing you're smiling at the memory.

Reminiscing those memories before you fucked him won't help you at this point. Jungkook for sure hates you now because you proved him right, using your tactics on him so he'll sleep with you. Both you and him did make the decision yes but he probably agreed in order to stop you from pestering him further.

The wise move for you is to forget this ever happened and move out but you won't. You'll prove to Jungkook how serious you are on him no matter how long that may take. You can still fix this you believe; you're never gonna give up on him unless you hear that direct rejection from his pretty lips.

e/n: i haven't really written the loml for almost 2 years now so if it sounds or feels different then that's why 😂 i've been missing him a lot tho so here we are :D

[revelboo]

hey, hope this months been good to you thus far and that january ended on a good note for you. appreciate you a lot ✌️✌️

Thank you! I hope your year is off to a good start, too

It Had to Be You Pt 17

TFO Megatron x Reader

• Draped against him, one of his hands is resting against your spine, sliding slowly up and down before his servos tangle in the hair at the back of your head. Making a soft noise, you wiggle on top of him, feeling his spark thrumming under you. That steady rhythm soothing you. As familiar now as the beat of your own heart. Still feel off balance from that contact with his spark. The glimpses you’d gotten of his memories feeling as real as your own. “You held back from me,” he says, red optics sliding to you then away as his jaw works. “Why?” Confused, you reach up to touch his bottom lip and his head turns away.

• Thought you’d finally trusted him. That the two of you had gotten past the fighting. Past resisting each other, but you’d not submitted to him when he’d bonded you. Hadn’t given him everything. And your expression is confused when you prop yourself up on your elbows on his chassis to look down at him. “What’s that mean?” Like you don’t realize what you’d done. What you’d denied him. Spark aching with that missing connection, with what should be.

• What’s he in a mood about now? See his lip lift slightly to show denta before he gently thumps the back of his helm against the berth a couple times. “The bond,” he growls, servos shifting against the back of your head, cupping it. “It’s not complete. You have to feel it.” Frowning at his tone, you remember being tangled in him. Overwhelmed as he’d coaxed you, wrapping himself about you. And you’d ignored that sweet pull humming through you, ignored his coaxing.

• “It was a lot,” you mutter, avoiding his optics now. Venting tiredly, he tries to let go of the tension. It hadn’t been a no. You hadn’t denied him. Can feel the imperfect bond prickling through his spark. Demanding to be completed. That he tangle himself so fully in you that you’ll never be free of him. But this isn’t something he can just demand or take. It has to be given willingly. And patience has never been his strength. “I didn’t really know what was happening. You didn’t warn me.”

• “A lot,” he echoes, voice strained. “I offer you everything and it’s a lot.” Servos restlessly playing with your hair, his optics shutter. “I’m trying. You have no idea how hard I’m trying.” Leaning up on him, you brush your mouth against his and he finally looks at you. Annoyed and hopeful all at the same time as his other hand lands on your hip. There’s a vulnerability in his expression that reminds you of the glimpses you’d seen of D 16. Of who he’d been before Sentinel’s lies had broken him of trust. And he’s trusting you, giving you the ability to hurt him. But You hadn’t been able to do the same, you’d balked, because it had felt like losing a piece of yourself giving in to him.

• “I’m trying too, okay.” Those eyes he gets lost in are so serious as you brush another kiss against him that feels like an apology. Knows he should have explained first, should have stopped you from touching him without understanding what you were committing to. Another Cybertronian would have known. Wouldn’t have given up their freedom to tie themself to him willingly. And he’d taken advantage of your ignorance to get what he wanted. To make a permanent claim on you. Would you have still chosen to reach out and forge that imperfect connection if you’d known what it meant? He’s not sure and a hurt part of him isn’t capable of just asking. Afraid of what the answer might be.

Previous

[navyiera]

All the Things I Love about You

pairing: caitlyn kiramman x fem!reader

synopsis: sometimes there are bad days when things don't go your way but luckily there's caitlyn who can turn everything back to the way you like it.

for anyone who's having a bad day :( keep going, im proud of you!!

You don’t mean to say it out loud.

It’s just one of those days—one where your mind feels cluttered and restless, where the smallest things seem to go wrong, and suddenly, everything feels heavier than it should. You don’t know when it started, but now you’re moving around the room, absentmindedly mumbling under your breath, listing every little thing you don’t like about yourself.

“Too indecisive… get flustered too easily… always messing things up…”

Caitlyn looks up from her book across the room, her gaze sharp and steady as she watches you move. At first, she doesn’t say anything, just quietly observing. But when you sigh and mutter something about being “too much of a burden,” she closes her book with a quiet thud.

“Well, I suppose I should chime in,” she says matter-of-factly.

You blink, turning toward her. “What?”

She stands, smoothing out an invisible wrinkle in her blouse, and takes a step closer. “Since we’re listing things, I’d like to add a few of my own.”

Your stomach tightens. “Caitlyn, that’s not—”

She doesn’t let you finish. Instead, she reaches for your hand, lacing her fingers through yours. Her grip is firm but gentle, grounding. “I love the way your eyes light up when you talk about something you’re passionate about.”

You freeze. “Caitlyn—”

“I love how thoughtful you are, how you notice the smallest details about people and remember them,” she continues, as if you hadn’t spoken. “Like the way you always make my tea just how I like it. Or how you remember which side of the bed I prefer, even though I wouldn’t mind switching.”

Her voice is calm, unwavering, and she’s looking at you so intently that it’s impossible to brush off her words.

“I love how you get excited over the little things—how you squeeze my hand when you see a cat across the street, or how you gasp at the first snowfall of the year, like you’re seeing it for the first time.”

A lump forms in your throat, but she isn’t finished.

“I love how expressive you are. How I can read your thoughts just by watching your face.” She tilts her head slightly, studying you with fond amusement. “Like right now. You’re trying to figure out how to change the subject.”

You let out a small, shaky laugh, dropping your gaze. “Maybe.”

She squeezes your hand before letting go, only to cup your face instead, tilting it back up so you have no choice but to meet her eyes. “I love how much you care, even when you try to downplay it. How you always notice when I’m tired and bring me tea before I even ask. How you listen—really listen—when I talk, even when I ramble.”

You swallow hard, struggling to hold her gaze. “Caitlyn, I…”

She leans in just slightly, pressing her forehead against yours. “I love your laugh,” she murmurs. “I love the way you hum when you’re focused, and how you tilt your head when you’re curious. I love how you always reach for my hand, even when you’re half-asleep. And I love how you try to hide your smile when I’m being too sappy.”

You let out another breathless laugh, one that turns into something closer to a soft sniffle as you blink rapidly. “This is unfair.”

She smiles, brushing her thumb over your cheek. “It’s the truth.”

A few seconds of silence stretch between you, warm and quiet. Then, she whispers, “And I love you.”

You squeeze your eyes shut, inhaling slowly before opening them again. “I don’t always feel like I’m worth all that.”

Caitlyn doesn’t hesitate. “You are.”

The certainty in her voice makes something ache deep in your chest.

She tilts your chin up slightly, eyes full of quiet affection. “I don’t care how long it takes for you to believe me. I’ll remind you every time.”

You nod, unable to trust your voice, and she takes it as permission to close the last bit of space between you, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead.

She lingers there for a moment, her lips warm against your skin, before pulling back just enough to press another to your cheek. Then another, slower, against the corner of your mouth, her breath fanning against your lips.

You exhale, tilting toward her instinctively. “You’re really unfair, you know that?”

Caitlyn hums, brushing a stray lock of hair behind your ear. “Mm. But you’re smiling now.”

You roll your eyes, but the warmth in your chest refuses to fade. “Okay, okay. I get it.”

She raises an eyebrow. “Do you?”

You let out a small laugh, shaking your head. “I’m trying.”

Caitlyn’s expression softens even further. “That’s enough.”

She pulls you into a gentle hug, and you let yourself sink into it, letting her warmth chase away the last lingering shadows of doubt.

[shanastoryteller]

Obviously you are your own person, which means you will do whatever you want so I hope this doesn’t come off as annoying or rude because full stop I am so bad at wording things, but while I am happy that you’re on a break from spn (I am not one of the people in that fandom, and am here for other fics, though I honestly loved the updates, posts, and asks on it) I do hope you don’t feel like you have to work on x-y-z first before you can go back into your spn stuff. I know you said you’re already planning out the next spn fic, I just want you to be happy on what you’re working on even if you decided to abandon everything else forever and only do spn. Again I know you have never been one to stop what you plan just to make us happy (as it should be fr) but like. If you’d rather stay in spn for a bit I’d much prefer seeing those updates over a chapter in one of the fandoms I do read for. Seriously I promise if I am being annoying or rude it’s not my intention, but I am sorry if that is indeed what it’s coming across as (and I mean that honestly, not in a ‘sorry that’s how you feel way’). You are just my favorite author, and even though I’m only here for some of the fandoms I just don’t want to see you making yourself work on something that isn’t clicking in your brain at the moment, just because it’s been a while since you updated. I hope this isn’t coming off as rude or patronizing, but if it is then again, I want to say I’m sorry. Even if I’m not into spn, I’m excited to see the plans you have for it and everyone’s reactions.

this is SO sweet and not annoying or patronizing at all! i am 100% taking it in the spirit it's intended <3 thank you!!!

especially because .... i wrote another supernatural fic. oops. i had good intentions!!

i guess i'm really just committing to going back to hopping around rather than tunnel vision haha

i am having SO much fun with supernatural! but i like my other writing too. and this year i'd really like to get back into at least semi regular updates for siat. and some other things i want to finish up...

i know i write a lot, but it's actually so much less than i wish i could write! being an adult is such a pain

i am going to at least START the next siat chapter before getting distracted again T_T i swear i'm the one in control here...

[hitlikehammers]

Rockstar!Eddie Leaves What He Had With Steve Behind in Hawkins 💔 to Chase His Dreams 🎸

(so why is it that he’s back in Steve’s bed Hawkins every couple months for ‘very pressing reasons’ that are straining Steve’s heart honestly anything but? 🫤❤️‍🩹🥺)

NOTE: this was originally a fill from @eddiemunsonbingo AGES ago, and I’m only bringing it over here NOW because something for the @steddielovemonth is going to be posted soon that is a standalone in its universe, but also very much a sequel to it ♥️

Steve really does try not to think about it in terms of…time.

Maybe that’s foolish. It’s mostly denial. Lots of it isn’t reliable anyway: the score his body keeps isn’t accurate, war-time left over from too many near-misses with a fucking alternate dimension but the popping in his joints and the ringing in his ears and the white hair he pulled out of his scalp and stared blankly at in the sink for a good twenty minutes: those are real things, but they don’t chart the passage of days, of hours, months and fucking years with any real meaning.

It’s been four years. Roughly. Depending on what the start point is. Whether it’s that Spring Break. Whether it’s the first winter. Or the spring after, when Robin begged him to go with her—there’s still time. She still begs, because they still talk given the thread inside them stays tied unbreakable to one another, oblivious to miles between. Maybe it’s measuring from the graduations, the kids—only Erica’s left at Hawkins High, now, though Steve gets calls from the whole bunch of them, Eleven the most, which was maybe surprising, then it’s a good split between Dustin and Will, another surprise. Max calls enough but her calls are calls, with a weight most of the others lack. Lucas’s calls aren’t super frequent but always long, mostly because he talks around the point forever, whatever the point happens to be. Even Mike usually ends up on the other end of the line once a month. It’s…that could be where the time starts from.

Or it could be the summer, that first summer. The one that taught Steve what it was to have a heart just to fucking break it.

Could be that. Impossible to say.

(It’s been 3 years, 7 months, and 14 days. Steve had only counted in retrospect, in the wreckage left behind, because while he’d known there was a deadline in it, to it all, he’d thought he could be enough. That he could change a mind. He’d thought…

Foolish things. Bullshit. Didn’t matter. Could be any fucking date.)

But since the point's come up, and it’s front of Steve’s mind, his least favorite (most favorite) place to find it: he hadn’t expected it. Robin liked to say she saw the signs but. Steve hadn’t watched it happen in slow motion because there wasn’t a single goddamn slow thing about it. Which was…for whatever it was worth, Steve knew falling fast and hard and with everything he was had maybe failed him every time, thus far, but at least he knows that for him?

That means it’s real. He’s all in. He might not be met equal on the other side of the equation—hadn’t been yet, maybe wouldn’t be ever, but he wasn’t having any luck trying to fucking change that fact so, learning to work with what he had was the best he could do. And he had love. He’d never been able to name it to himself so far: not before, and certainly never since. But.

Figuring out the sexuality thing had been a not-bathroom-but-definitely-floor talk on the shitty Family Video carpet sometime around November of ‘85. Slow days, idle comments, and Robin’s suspiciously-but-reliably-gentle-when-the-need-was-dire hand to his shoulder to say no, no: actually wanting to kiss people of any gender wasn’t really…the default Steve had always expected it had to be. How could anyone look at, say, Harrison Ford and not think, oh yeah, I would at least suck his face?

Turned out probably at least half the people on the planet. As in the straight guys and the lesbians. Steve had spent the majority of three days on that disgusting fucking carpet, open to close, popping up to ask Robin if she was sure because what about—

She was sure. And eventually, through a couple of needs for deep breathing and a handful of assurances that it was okay to cry—he appreciated that, but he kept the crying to his room after these long-ass shifts and if Robin stayed for some of those times, that was because she was half his head, half his heart, and she knew what he was going to do sometimes before he did.

They did end up on the floor of his bathroom, a clean one for once, at one point. Maybe because they both held to tradition. Maybe because Steve had largely come to terms with the mindfuck of yet another piece of his world, his self unravelling and rewriting itself, and thought the vodka in his dad’s liquor cabinet was a good way to celebrate. The label was entirely in Russian and Robin had been practicing on hers, said she was pretty sure it was the good shit.

Sometimes you can drink enough of the best shit on an empty stomach, though, and still spew the whole of it up.

Steve sometimes does think he drinks his dad’s best liquor that way on purpose, though. Delightful going down and yeah, it sucks to chuck it up but. The idea that it’s ultimately wasted feels…right.

Anyway: Steve had settled with it all by New Year's, and while he’d hosted the rugrats who could only blabber about their latest campaign with their epic DM, and he’d kissed Robin when the clock turned, well. It felt like a new start, a fresh page.

Something that had the chance at being a good thing.

And nothing much happened in the two-and-a-half-months that followed save for finally catching a glimpse of the D&D god who ran their little club while he was idling in his car to pick up the shitheads, this legendary DM who did not make Steve jealous one tiny bit and who was cool and was edgy and was so fuckin’ cool, Steve, did we tell you got cool he is?! and Steve had said language as monotone as he could before he squinted as out came all the metal and the ink and he’d said your club president dude is Eddie goddamn Munson and he should have kept his mouth shut because the amount of talking that ensued left him with a headache the size of Montana; but.

That was really all that happened until about…mid-March.

Then Spring Break happened.

It could be argued Eddie and Steve grew close enough to pass the acquaintances benchmark, ended up as at least tentative friends on top of necessary battle mates as early as the Upside Down. Whatever reason Eddie gave, he jumped in after Steve. Whatever speech Steve landed on, he didn’t want Dustin orEddie hurt.

It could be argued Steve wasn’t paying attention and didn’t stop in time and landed in the land of Tentative Friends You Wouldn’t Mind Added Benefits With after the…at least after the way Eddie leaned in close and his lips we so red and he called Steve big boy and…

Yeah.

When Steve carries what may or may not be Eddie’s still fucking corpse out of the Upside Down—he can’t tell, every time he tries to check again his own heart's too loud, his own breaths too shaky—but by then, they’re family. Bound in blood. Steve would die for him, like the others. He won’t let him die, if he can fucking help it.

Between him and Max, Steve almost crashes, breaks. Steve’s there when Max’s fingers twitch and he laughs with tears in his eyes and hands over hands and tells her he loves her and he’s sorry and he’s there, tries to talk around the letter he opened and resealed without evidence because Steve knows some tricks too, okay, and her words had broken him but now he could live up to what she thought she was leaving behind, could make sure she had every goddamn thing she thought she was giving up in spades, to roll around in in abundance. He was going to take care of her, whatever she needed. Whatever it took.

Her lips had quirked and the doctors called coincidence, don’t get your hopes up but; Steve knew Max. That was all her.

And there were more tears, he let her fucking feel them; he fucking hoped she’d notice, and remember, and give him so much shit.

Eddie takes longer, pulls out of the woods enough to exhale a few days later, and the way Steve slips out to find the hospital chapel, the only goddamn place he won’t be found by anyone he knows, and bawls his goddamn eyes out?

It’s family, and it’s love because it’s family but…it’s been so quick. It’s been intense, and that probably speeds it along but…

Shit. Shit.

That’s when Steve knows he sets a new goddamn record for himself and falls hard and heavy and stupidin, like, a week and change. Jesus Christ.

It’s in the recovery that they build something though. Something that’s not trauma or terror or the threat of imminent death. Steve spends most of his hours between two hospital rooms listening to progress reports and taking notes and the kids gravitate toward Max—Dustin would have been the outlier but Steve knows he’s not ready, and so he gives his own updates just to his brother when he drives him home after visiting hours—but that means Steve’s Eddie’s most common conversation partner. They talk about bullshit. Steve defends a-ha to the last breath he has. Eddie’s rendered speechless for a second and then frantic when challenged to pick his favorite band. Again when it’s his favorite song, from his favorite band. And again when it’s his favorite song of any song, ever at all. Steve's heart swells in the watching. He’s foolish enough to bask in the glittering of Eddie’s eyes when Steve indulges in talking, scene by scene as guided by the master in the bed beside him, about what his opinions on Star Wars really were. And then guided by no one, just invited to share what his opinions are on the last movie he saw and loved: which was Weird Science, the last movie he watched in a theatre because he and Robin had gone to face their fear or some shit after Starcourt and it was easier than he’d expected. Eddie listens, and nods, and asks if they can rent it when he’s out, before making sure to add  but you should really have a new choice like, eight months later, man, you work at a video store.

Steve was mostly just focused on Eddie more than implying, of his own volition, that he wanted to have a movie night.

Eddie’s released before Max, largely for mobility reasons, so they both go to visit her now. Robin’s put on the night shift when they schedule their movie night and Steve immediately moves to reschedule but she says no, she’s seen it, make Eddie suffer this time. So it’s just them.

They sit closer than they have to, on the couch.

And it’s little things that build from there. Max’s physical therapy is a government secret, like some fancy space-age protocol that has real hopes to put her on her feet again so she needs a ride, and while they could take turns, Steve and Eddie just take turns as to which vehicle they hop into to drive her. They stay when she needs them—not when she asks because she’s Max and she never asks—but it ends up three days a week back and forth and during: together.

And a lot of nights, for a movie or a smoke or a nightmare or a pulled stitch before they’re all taken out: together.

And shifts where Steve doesn’t even bother to bring his own lunch because Eddie Munson, unpredictable and wholly forgetful super-super senior—who Nancy and Hopper and most of all Joyce convinced the School would be finishing his final senior year at home save for tests, and only that once he was cleared by his doctors—that Eddie Munson brought Steve something every single time he worked. A burger, a chili dog, chicken fucking nuggets. A PB&J clearly homemade and cut diagonal.

So yeah. It starts out how it does when Steve’s in trouble. But it builds like…Steve’s never known before.

They kiss in May. Maybe so that it’s not their first, and a total cliche, when Steve kisses him for graduation behind the bleachers.

The sleep together after graduation, high on the thrill of it, and that’s maybe a cliche but Steve could not give a shit less.

And then they're EddieandSteve, only to find out they have been for a while; and this is just something a little deeper, a little bit more.

In ways that mean everything.

Looking back, Steve knows Eddie never minced words about his plan to leave Hawkins in the fall. With a mixtape and a prayer if I have to, Stevie-boy, he’d said once even, and Steve had laughed.

He’d fucking laughed.

So he’d known.

But July bleeds into August and Steve…Steve’s in love, okay, for real in a way that he’s never felt before. Right in a way he’s never felt before. He kinda just…overlooks it. Because Eddie seems to be at least on the same wavelength. Touches him first, reaches for him first: wants him. Looks at him with not just desire or attraction but…something no one’s ever looked at Steve with before.

And so he hopes. More than hopes.

But when Eddie starts packing, Steve can’t breathe.

He buys a set of luggage and goes home to start the same, has half of his not-excessive possessions shoved in when he realizes:

He’s not invited. Eddie’s never asked him to come.

Looking back, he’s afraid he wasted too much of those last weeks. Scared of giving too much away, the hurt from so many sides and the heartache that’s already taking root, but also: the way he clings, but tries not to make it obvious.

Fuck; but of course it was gonna be obvious, and how much energy did he waste, how many opportunities slipped by, because Steve was trying not to give away that Eddie leaving—to get away from a town that hated him, to try and make a real go with his music, to be anywhere without Steve so he could live out the dreams that predated Steve, that Steve had no place in—to try not to give away that all of it; it’d fucking destroy him.

Steve doesn’t know, to this day, how he stood and let Eddie kiss him breathless out the driver-side window, how he waved until Eddie was out of sight. He doesn’t know.

Kind of like he doesn’t know how he fucking keeps doing it.

Eddie throws tapes to every radio station with Van Halen or other top-played bands written on the insert in sharpie like that gives nothing away, and sneaks a demo in every underpaid delivery boy’s hands to record executives as he drives to the West Coast, sends Steve postcards what seems like has to be every goddamn day, filled up with his rambling until there’s no space left, has to draw lines around Steve’s address to make it clear where the damn thing’s going lest it get confused. Like they’re SteveandEddie still. Like only…only the things that changed after graduation are gone.

Steve sobs after about a month of it all, grateful and resentful, hateful and still so goddamn full of love it’s sickening. Literally, it makes him feel nauseous. He…

He keeps every postcard.

When one of them comes to say some idiot in San Francisco accidentally played Corroded Coffin on what’s apparently an important station, and Eddie got a letter in response from one of the labels, he says he’s coming back for the boys, they need to be ready. Steve knows he’s not one of the boys, but.

Eddie wouldn’t have told Steve he was coming if it wouldn’t matter to Steve. And maybe Eddie wasn’t in love with him anymore, maybe never was in love with him.

But he’d be lying if he said he thought Eddie didn’t love him. In a different way. A…you-don’t-get-to-come-with-me-but-I’d-still-want-to-see-you-when-I-stop-back kind of way.

And Steve…Steve’s not a fucking monk or anything. But even Robin doesn’t try to push him when he finally just tells her what he feels, lovesick and pathetic as it is:

I gave everything I had to someone else, and it’d be different if I wanted to back, to give again, but…I don’t.

I don’t want it back, not from him. Not if any part of him, wants to keep any part of it.

And because she’s Robin, she knows he means something else when he says ‘it’. And because she’s Robin? She’d push if she thought it was worth it.

She just holds him, and that’s really the best thing he could ask for.

But it becomes a thing. The boys go with Eddie, and they record new shit to impress...whoever. And they do. They come back for Halloween, because Eddie loves it. The label’s dragging its feet, but they’re not deterred, they’re energized. They come back for Thanksgiving because Wayne loves it—except he doesn’t, Steve knows that, Wayne actually hates trying to make a bird and Eddie had lamented more than once that they ended up with lunchmeat cut into cubes one year when Wayne was particularly frustrated with the process. They go out East, and try a few studios in New York. They come back for Christmas.

Eddie spends most of his time with Steve. Steve doesn’t fucking fight that; wants it…like…

There’s nothing to compare how he wants it to. Nothing exists that fits.

Eddie spends most of the time that he spends with Steve, though?

In Steve’s bed.

And here’s the thing: Steve had a decent amount of experience to compare to, but once they’d fallen into a rhythm, got past the awkward bits, the learning curve? Sex with Eddie had been a goddamn revelation. Not just because he was a man—after he’d left, Steve had forced himself to try, and dispelled that possibility quick as hell—and now?

Now, it’s like they never stopped. Every fucking time, it’s like they never stopped.

Steve’s not surprised in the slightest that he remembers every give and tell of Eddie’s body—of course he goddamn does—but that Eddie doesn’t miss a beat in touching, sucking, licking, worshippingSteve’s? That’s insane. That’s…

Unexpected. Every time it’s unexpected and every time Steve’s shown he wasn’t forgotten when he probably should have been. Eddie’s building a life that doesn’t include him.

He’ll only get in the way.

But Steve is selfish and stubborn and maybe it’s often, like almost strangely so, but it’s only a week or two at a go so he tells himself he’s allowed. He tells himself that it felt like making love in the beginning because Steve was in love, and that it still feels exactly the same because Steve…Steve never stopped.

Steve is still just as goddamn in love.

So yeah. Steve sleeps with Eddie and it’s like…it’s like rationed air. He gets a regular taste and he gets to keep breathing.

And it’s okay. Probably more then. Because he gets Eddie—even a little bit. Even just in scraps. When he has Eddie?

He has him, even for moments that were never made to last.

It’s Easter, this time. The band put out their first record in January. It’s doing really well. Eddie’s over the moon. Someone called about a magazine cover for a publication in Cleveland that’s apparently kind of a big deal, Alt..something. Steve will buy every copy in a fucking 100-mile radius. 200 miles. 500—

It’s Easter. Eddie didn’t lament not celebrating it after Spring Break in ‘86 but he’s back every year now. And if it’s just…come to mean something, or maybe did then and circumstances won out against it? Steve will be here. Steve will be comfort and a reprieve or a hot as hell romp with a familiar body, Steve will…

Yeah. Steve will do whatever’s needed. Wanted. Anything.

Pathetic.

But so much better than nothing.

Case in point: they’re both naked, sweat mostly dried, sharing a joint and it’s comfortable. It’s quiet and gentle and put up against sitting alone on a weeknight, not with Eddie?

It’s heaven.

“So when’s the dream happening?”

Steve looks cross-eyed toward his lips; he hasn’t smoked this thing long enough to have heard wrong. He squints up at Eddie, whose chest he’s laid out on, confused. Offers him the smoke but he waves it away.

“The dream?” Steve asks finally, when Eddie doesn’t seem to want to answer on his own.

Eddie looks at him weird. Not weird for its own sake but like: like he’s staring into him, and then like he’s disbelieving, but then also like he’s seeing him for the first time.

That kind of weird.

“Getting the fuck out of here,” Eddie answers like it’s obvious. “White picket fence. Little nuggets.” He spreads his hands as wide as possible without tossing Steve from where he lies. “See the sights.”

And Steve’s response is immediate. Doesn’t even require a thought.

He laughs. Like, ugly-laughs.

“Man,” he shakes his head as he catches his breath, and passes the joint off this time with purpose, not an offer or a choice as he snorts a little; “that’s not the dream.”

When Eddie doesn’t grab the smoke, Steve finally looks up. Eddie…

Eddie looks like what Steve’s always struggled to understand the word ‘poleaxed’ to mean. He thinks it might be this.

He looks…like something stuck him through the gut. Slapped him silly across the face.

“What d’ya mean?” And it’s just three words, one that’s a cheat, and he says it slow enough to take an age.

Steve breathes out, and then, if he’s gonna be honest, and if he has to keep holding the damn thing anyway, decides to take another drag before speaking:

“Figured out what the dream was, inside the dream,” Steve says, wondering if he’ll get away with the vagary; knowing he won’t.

“All we see or seem?” Eddie jokes a little, but it falls flat, his tone eerily kinda…strained but hollow.

“I like poetry.” Steve smiles up at him, soft, and offers the joint again straight to Eddie’s lips. He takes it this time.

“It was about family. It was about stability, not,” Steve shakes his head, stops talking half-assed around the lungful he’s holding, and lets it out slow; “not in a place, fuck, not in a house, but,” a person he doesn’t say, but he hears it in his head; “it was about sharing it.”

And that's it. That’s the simplest, most straightforward truth. Steve doesn’t think there’s anything complicated, or offensive in it. Hard to swallow. Even if he’s come to terms with it. Is mostly at peace with it.

Which is why it’s weird, that Eddie feels suddenly rigid beneath him.

So Steve turns, and braces his hand on Eddie's chest for balance, and frowns when he doesn’t even have to push down to feel the way his heart’s a fucking riot.

“What?” Steve asks, gentle; Eddie’s face is a portrait of conflict, of distress and Steve can’t fucking figure out why, they just came like four times between them and are sharing some very nice Cali weed—they’re nestled close, they’re together, it’s…

Eddie’s quiet, his breath disconcertingly steady for how his pulse pounds, and then he breathes out slow before covering his face:

“I don’t think I can fuck this up any worse than I already have, so,” he mutters, dejected for reasons Steve can’t even guess, then he laughs, humorless, shakes his head:

“Let me try, I guess.”

Steve frowns, uncomprehending, until:

“I’ve been in love with you forever.”

Steve thinks the world stops. His heart does, at least. Suspended. Silent so he doesn’t miss a syllable.

“And I told myself,” Eddie bites at his lip, worries at the bottom swell; “end of that summer, from the very first, I said: don’t ask him to come with you, even if it breaks your heart,” and oh god, oh god after all this time: Steve doesn’t think he’s projecting to hear the genuinely broken heart in those words for just remembering.

“Don’t ask him to settle, you’re not even in the same universe of what he wants,” fuck, what lies Eddie’s saying; did he believe them? Has he always—“what he needs.”

But Eddie is everything he needs, always was, will always be—

“You’ll never have the picket fence. You can’t give him his nuggets. You should never be trusted to park a Winnebago.”

They could have had a shitty studio apartment. They could have had the kids in college. They could have run the BMW until it died, or sold it to put toward a better van for equipment. They could have—

“You’re selfish, Munson, you’re a rat fucking bastard but,” Eddie’s still going, heart still hammering under Steve’s touch even as Eddie swallows hard and fails to smile, looks ill with the attempt like it hurts to try: “you love him too much for that.”

Oh. Oh god.

“It didn’t break my heart, though,” Eddie clears his throat and glances away, to the ceiling, eyes too bright: oh fuck; “broke my goddamn soul,” and a tear falls, and Steve can’t help but wipe it away, and kiss the track. Even just once.

So he does.

“When I saw you again that first time back,” Eddie starts again, voice rougher and shakier as he reaches a hand for Steve’s. “I could have asked the boys to fly out, the execs offered, but,” and this time, the attempt to grin is more successful, like a weight’s lifted from it: “and you smiled at me, it felt like,” and when he shakes his head this time it’s for disbelief, but the kind that comes with awe; “and when we slotted back together like we’d never been apart, it was…”

Eddie’s voice trails, but it cracks at the end—Steve doesn’t know which does more to stop his words.

He’s grateful, relieved, when they come back. He’s powerless but to give when Eddie touches his cheek so gentle and breathes:

“And I had to tell myself again, and again,” he murmurs, stroking Steve’s skin like he’s precious: “you love him too much to take his dream away from him.”

“What did it matter?” Steve can’t help but ask, no malice in it, just the need to understand. “You had your dream, you have—“

They have a contract. They have an album climbing the charts. They’re not just on their way—they’re there. The only next step is to get bigger, and bigger, and—

“Dreams within dreams, wasn’t it?” Eddie murmurs close to Steve’s cheek, where maybe he’s pressing to be close, or maybe he’s hiding a little, so Steve strokes his hair because he can either way and relishes how Eddie leans, melts into it like always. “Inside the dream?”

Steve nods, more to encourage more words. More Eddie.

“Break my dream open and there’s you with me, every step,” Eddie whispers, his lips warm on Steve’s skin. “Break my heart open, same damn thing,” and that causes Steve to shudder, and his heart to pick up now, too. “Both just kinda crumble if you take out the center.”

Steve can’t quite believe what he’s hearing. Wants to. Doesn’t think they’re lies. It’s just, he…

“Those,” Steve tries to speak but his voice cracks; he clears his throat and kicks his lips while he tucks Eddie into his neck, under his chin: “those would be good lyrics.”

“No,” Eddie shakes his head and nuzzles Steve’s throat with the motion and this can’t be happening.

This can’t be happening, can it?

“No, those words were only ever meant just for you.”

And Eddie kisses the pulse point close to his mouth and holds there, like a sentry and a miser, and holy shit.

Holy shit.

“And I don’t know,” Eddie’s saying more, but it’s pitchy, thready, like he’s barely holding the words together at all; “I don’t know if it’s nostalgia, or convenience, or routine,” his voice breaks again and the sob’s in the word when it comes even if it’s not streaming down on his cheeks: “pity,” and no, no, not fucking ever, how—

“I was never your dream then, and I don’t even know if I can be your inside-dream now, and,” Eddie’s rambling, and he does that when he’s desperate, when he’s overwhelmed and overfull with feeling—and Steve knows that. Steve knows that about him.

Steve knows. Better than he knows himself, Steve still knows him.

“I just want the world for you,” Eddie whispers, stroking up and down Steve’s jaw; “my sweetheart. My sunshine,” he smiles so real and soft and Steve melts, like the heart in his chest starts spilling through his ribs, warm and liquid: “you deserve more than the world, more than fuckin’ me and I,” Eddie shakes his head again, more this time like he’s stopping himself, like it’s a defense mechanism and Steve reaches for his cheeks, broad palms on either side to hold him still because…he doesn’t want Eddie to stop.

Ever.

“Did I ruin it?” Eddie breathes, and barely at that, eyes so wide and swimming and oh, god; “did I—"

And Steve can’t help it. He can’t help but kiss him with all he’s got, even if it couldn’t be all Eddie’s worth in all the world. Steve can’t contain all that Eddie’s worth.

But he can give everything, because this is the man who already has it.

“What the hell was I supposed to be to a rockstar?” Steve tries to talk through his own tight throat, his own growing smile, his own threat of tears bubbling close to the surface. “How the fuck was I ever going to measure up, ever do anything but hold you back when you could have—“

“I come back to you, for you,” Eddie answers immediate; it’s not what Steve’s asking but he won’t lie and say he didn’t want to know, at least a little. “The handful of times I’ve tried,” Eddie shakes his head once now, definitive; “I have always left my everything with you.”

The idea that Steve’s spent all this time feeling empty, and hollow, and missing the best of himself where it lived in the man he loved—the idea he was wrong, that they both were so fucking wrong is…insanity.

“I had a bag half packed.”

Steve doesn’t need to explain further. The noise Eddie makes is pure pain.

“Baby,” he nearly croons, falls into Steve somehow closer, wraps him up tighter; “I wanted to kidnap you in the night.”

“I sobbed in my bed after you were out of sight.”

“I pulled over before the town sign, because I couldn’t see the goddamn road.”

And Steve…Steve doesn’t really have a decision to make about what he says next. What dream he wants; always has.

“I never got rid of the luggage.”

And Eddie hears everything he says in those words, because after everything, Eddie Munson knows him, and…yeah.

Steve’s been kissed in a lot of ways before. By this man in particular, even.

But this: if leaving broke Eddie’s soul, if somehow the lack of Steve somehow did that?

This is…this is the body meeting another body, heart to heart and tasting the way a soul slides back in place. It's Eddie’s hands in his hair like hell never let go and he’s happy about the idea; blissful for it, even. It’s—beyond anything Steve’s ever known. So: yeah.

It’s not a decision. It’s just a fucking given.

♥️

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[universefcb]

↬❥Calm drawing

Hector Fort x Fem!Reader

sy: After a fight with his mother, you ask to paint his tattoo.

a/n: I really hope it's what the person asked for, and I apologize if there are mistakes, English is not my native language.

Based on this request

warnings: Cute, cute, cute, cute. Did I say cute?

He ran his hands through his hair, taking deep breaths to try to calm himself, but the anger still throbbed inside him.

“This isn’t going to end well…” he muttered to himself, closing his eyes for a moment.

“Hector?” His girlfriend’s voice interrupted his thoughts.

He opened his eyes and saw her sitting on the bed, a sketchbook open on her lap and a worried expression on her face.

“What happened now?” she asked, putting the notebook aside and sitting on the edge of the bed.

Hector snorted, throwing himself into a chair in the corner of the room.

“The usual. My mother thinks she can decide everything for me. Who knows what's best for me, as if I were still five years old.”

“Did you guys argue about your career again?”

He nodded, running his hand over his face.

“She thinks I’m wasting my time. That I should be focusing on other things. I’m just trying to do things my way.” She sighed. She’d heard variations of this outburst countless times before. She knew Hector didn’t talk much about his feelings, but when he did open up, it was always about this—the weight of expectations, the need to prove himself.

She stood up and walked over to him, crouching down beside him. Hector and his mother had a great relationship, but their fights over the boy prodigy's career were straining their relationship.

“Do you want to take your mind off things for a bit?” She smiled, caressing her boyfriend’s hands.

“What do you mean?” He looked at her, confused.

She smiled and stood up to grab her paint box from the dresser. Then she pointed at his arm.

“Can I paint your tattoo?” Hector raised an eyebrow. Letting a sideways smile appear on his face.

“Paint my tattoo?”

"Yes. Just for fun. Who knows, maybe it will help to ease this tension?” He hesitated. The tattoo on his arm was something important to him, a symbol he carried with him. But at the same time, the idea seemed so absurd that it almost brought a smile to his face.

“As long as you don’t do anything stupid,” he said, crossing his arms and she smiled in satisfaction.

“Trust me.” Hector let out a surprised sigh as you sat on his lap, making the gaming chair move back a little. And you separated the paints and brushes.

“What are you going to do?” he asked, watching her open small bottles of ink.

In a slow movement, he brought his hand to her waist, squeezing it lightly.

“I haven’t decided yet. I’ll improvise,” she replied, dipping a brush in the blue paint.

The first touch of the cool ink on his skin made Hector shiver slightly, but he soon got used to it. She started with light strokes, filling in the details of the tattoo with soft colors. Little by little, the image on his arm began to take on new life, transforming into a vibrant mix of blues, violets, and golds.

Hector watched the process in silence, feeling his anger slowly dissipate. Her touch was careful, almost therapeutic. With each stroke, he felt his muscles relax.

“How’s it going?” he asked after a few minutes.

“I’m not done yet. It has to wait,” she said, focused.

He smirked. His fingers traced lines on her thigh, making her shiver. Hector threw his head back, feeling a little calmer.

“Who would have thought that painting my tattoo would be your favorite pastime.” You laughed, adjusting yourself against his body, making the chair move again.

“You’re my canvas now. You should be honored,” she joked.

Hector laughed, shaking his head which was still thrown back.

After a while, she stepped back to examine her work. Using a cloth, she made small adjustments, ensuring that the colors blended perfectly.

“There! Now you can look.”

Hector raised his arm and examined the transformed tattoo. Before, it was a monochromatic and serious drawing. Now, it was a true watercolor work of art. The colors flowed organically, giving it a new dimension.

“Wow…” he muttered, impressed.

“Did you like it?” She smiled, satisfied.

“It’s amazing. I never thought I would like this, but… I guess it did me good.”

She rested her head on his shoulder.

“Sometimes we need a little color to remind us that things aren’t just black and white.”

Hector looked at her, and for a moment all the weight of his argument with his mother disappeared. Maybe she was right. Maybe life didn’t have to be so rigid, so full of pressures. Maybe, every now and then, you needed to let someone add a little color.

He smiled before pulling her by the neck and placing several kisses on her lips.

“I love you so much,” he whispered against her lips, and she laughed lightly.

“I love you too, my player.” She ran her hands down his torso, stopping at the bottom of his belly.

He pulled her into another kiss, this time slower and wetter. His tongue entwined with hers, in a beautiful fight for space and a desire to explore every corner.

Their lips parted and they laughed, pressing their foreheads together, just standing there enjoying each other's breathing.

Your like is important and helps me a lot. Don't be a ghost reader!

[fawnhart]

sugar and rafes first time meeting ! ㅤ⭑๋ ࣭

You remember the moment your whole life started to crumble. It was a Tuesday, you think. Maybe a Wednesday? Doesn’t really matter. The days just blur together when you’re stuck in a house where you’re not allowed to live

You were listening to Jeff Buckley. You had it on repeat for weeks now, hiding it under a loose plank in the floorboards of your room. Your parents would never allow it. Not in a million years. Especially your mom. She’d explode if she ever found out. Everything was so god damn evil to her

But that day you thought you had time. She was supposed to be gone for at least another hour. It was Wednesday. Church group meetings. It was always a Wednesday.

You slipped the CD into your player old and busted up, the kind with the cassette tape thing but with a CD attachment, so it wasn’t completely outdated. You sat on your bed, staring out at the little slice of sky visible through your window, not really thinking about anything in particular just thinking. Then you heard the door downstairs.

“What the hell is that noise?”

You froze. Your heart dropped into your stomach. You thought your mom wouldn’t be home yet. You’d been so sure. You asked Mrs. Maggie to 1000% sure. But she was early. You scrambled to hit stop, but the music kept playing. Her voice, firm and pissed, was coming closer.

“What the hell are you doing?”

Your pulse raced. You shoved the player under your pillow just as she stormed into the room, her eyes narrowing. She was already clutching that look the one that meant something bad was about to happen.

“What did I tell you about this?” Her voice was tight and screechy.

“I wasn’t doing nothin’” you said, your voice shaky. You didn’t even believe yourself. You knew exactly why she was upset. But you had to try. You had to try to be normal for once, even if it was just for a few minutes in your own room.

“Nothing?” Her lip curled, disgust in every word. “Baby, you think you can just fill ya’ head with that filth and call it ‘nothin’?’”

You bit your lip, holding back tears. She stepped forward, pointing at the CD player under your pillow.

“This is demonic! I knew it. You’ve been listening to the devil behind my back. It’s not enough that you’re dressing like... like one of those whores at school. But now you want to be dirty on the inside, too?”

Your throat felt tight, like you couldn’t breathe. Your mind was racing. What were you supposed to say?

“You’re going to ruin everything I’ve worked for. Everything your father and I have taught you,” she hissed, her eyes wild with something you didn’t recognize. It wasn’t love, not even close.

“it’s just music,” you whispered, too quietly, but she heard you.

She grabbed the player from your bed and yanked the CD out.

“It’s. not. just. music,” she said, her voice cracking. “It’s a gateway. It’s corruption to the brain.”

You wanted to scream. You wanted to tell her that all you wanted was to be normal, to have what everyone else had. a life outside of this house, outside of her rules. But the words never came.

She was moving now, pulling open drawers, emptying them onto the floor.

“all that filth you’ve been hiding from me and I’ve been lenient on is done for. I’m taking it all.”

She tossed your music cds, your makeup, your books. Everything you’d spent months gathering, everything you’d used to try to feel like you were an ordinary girl, was being thrown away.

And then, the worst part.

“Your father won’t stand for this. We’ll have you cleansed”

You faltered. Cleansed? It was such a cold, clinical word. But you knew what it meant. The prayers. The rituals. You couldn’t let that happen. You couldn’t live through that.

Your eyes were filling with tears, your chest tightening.

“I’m sorry!, I didn’t mean to. I won’t listen to that again, okay? I swear,” you pleaded, though you knew it didn’t matter.

But it was too late, she was already at the door

“You know honey, my church group has been just how ungodly you’ve been acting, but I didn’t believe them….. I hate that you proved them right”

locking it behind her with that final click that meant you were trapped.

You pressed your back against the door, the tears finally spilling over. You couldn’t think straight. Your whole body was shaking, your mind was screaming. I need to get out of here.

You knew what you had to do.

You waited for what felt like hours, listening to the muffled sounds of your mom in the kitchen. The smell of dinner wafted under the door, and all you could think about was how your entire life had been planned for you. You were supposed to be a good girl. A good Christian girl. But you weren’t. And you were never going to be.

Finally, when you thought your heart couldn’t take any more, you got up. You grabbed the little bag you’d hidden in the closet. Nothing but a few clothes, and the money you’d saved up from waitressing at ‘sticky’s’. Quietly, carefully, you pulled out the plank in the floor, grabbed the rest of your hidden things, and shoved them into your bag. You didn’t think twice.

You climbed out the window, holding your breath, praying that she wouldn’t hear you.

Once you were outside, you took off running.

You didn’t know where you were going, but it didn’t matter. You had to get out.

You ran for what felt like forever. The night was cold, but you didn’t care. It was better than being to the place you once called home.

You didn’t notice him at first.

You glanced around realizing you were for sure not on the cut anymore, the big tall houses made it clear to you were on figure eight now.

then you saw him

Rafe Cameron.

You’d seen him around, of course. He was one of the rich kids, always walking around with that stupid confident smile, like he owned the whole island. You’d never paid him any attention. You had enough of your own problems to deal with. But when you saw him standing at the end of the street, leaning against his car smoking god knows what, you froze.

You’ve heard the stories about Rafe Cameron. He’s the kind of guy everyone talks about but no one truly understands.

He’s always been a mystery, and he still is. But there’s something about him, something that draws you in, even though you know you probably shouldn’t get too close.

You never really expected to see him again, not after the way he disappeared seven years ago.

Rafe left figure eight right after that night, the night he ended up in jail. No one knows exactly what happened, but everyone has their theories.

Some say it was a huge mistake, some say it was just a matter of time, others say ward himself drove his only son out of town. But whatever it was, it was enough to make him walk away from everything. His family, his life there, his whole world.

He packed up and drove five hours away, living on his own, far from the memories and the mess the pouges he hated had caused.

In the time since, he’s built himself up. People talk about how he’s thriving now, working as a firefighter or something like that. Hard work, steady pay, and no one really bothers him anymore.

It’s like he’s trying to rebuild his life, piece by piece. But even though he’s been gone for so long, when he talks about his baby sister wheezie, there’s this soft, almost protective vibe about him

Now, he’s back in town, just for her birthday. It’s strange seeing him like this, but there’s something different about him. He’s older, quieter, and maybe even a little lost in his own way.

He was looking straight at you, his brow furrowed, like he knew something was wrong.

“Hey,” he called out, his voice muffled by his blunt but clear in the quiet night air.

You stopped in your tracks.

“Are you alright?” he asked, taking a step toward you.

You didn’t know what to say. Of course you weren’t alright!. You were running away from your own life, from your own mother. But you didn’t know how to tell him that.

“I... I’m fine,” you said, but even to your own ears, it sounded like a lie.

He took another step forward, still studying you with those eyes that seemed too kind for someone like him.

“I’m serious,” he said, his voice softer now. “You look rough.”

Your breath hitched. ‘Gee thanks’ Yeah, you looked rough. You had been rough for years. But hearing it from someone else...it hit different.

“Do you need a ride?” he asked.

You didn’t know what to do. You didn’t know him. But you also didn’t know anyone who would help you, not like this. So you warily followed him

You stared at him, confused, trying to figure out if he was serious or playing some sick joke on you.

Then it hit you. He was talking to you like you weren’t just the religious girl with the crazy parents. He wasn’t weirded. He wasn’t judging you.

The last time someone came up to you, the whole town heard about it. Your parents tried getting them expelled from school for harassing you.

That was the last time anyone ever talked to you

“I know you know Wheezie,” he said, a little chuckle in his voice as he opened the door. “you can’t be all bad, right?”

Wheezie? then it clicked, the girl with glasses who could down 6 cherry milkshakes in a row, nice.

“Come on,” he said, the smile slipping from his face for a second, a real one this time. “Let me help you.”

You didn’t know if you were ready for help, but you were so damn tired. Tired of pretending everything was okay. Tired of running. Tired of fighting your own heart every damn day.

You took a deep breath and took up his offer.

He didn’t even look like the guy everyone made him out to be. Sure, he still had that wild, unpredictable look to him, but he wasn’t hostile. He just… asked if you needed help. Simple as that.

You didn’t know what else to say. You didn’t know where else to go.

He didn’t press you with questions. He just turned on the engine, his eyes flicking over you like he was checking to see if you were really serious about getting in.

"You're Wheezie's friend, right?" he asked as you climbed in.

You nodded, glancing at him, trying to gauge whether or not you were making a huge mistake. "Yeah... kind of, she’s always at the diner" you added, almost too quietly. You didn't want to give him the wrong impression, what 18 year old is freinds with a 13 year old?

He smiled just a little, but it was different from the smirks you’d seen on his face at school or around town. “That sounds like her” It wasn’t mean. It was soft

You can’t help but wonder what really happened in those seven years, what it was that changed him, but for now, you’re stuck here in the passenger seat of his truck, staring at his side profile as he drives.

Something about being around him feels oddly comforting, even though you know there’s so much you’ll never understand.

The ride was awkward, the kind of silence that felt thick enough to choke on. Rafe had the radio low, some song you didn’t recognize playing in the background.

You focused on the streetlights flashing by, the pavement blurring, but all you could think about was the tight knot of anxiety in your chest. You didn't belong in this car, in this moment. You should have been running in the other direction, but... for some reason, you weren’t scared. Not yet.

You had no idea where the hell you were going. That’s when he asked.

“So, do you have anywhere to go?”

You looked at your lap, clutching the bag tighter. You couldn’t tell him the truth, not completely. Not yet. "yeah" you said, your voice barely above a raspy whisper.

He didn’t say anything at first. But then you heard him exhale, like he was thinking it over. “Look, I don’t know what the fuck you’ve been through but….but you’re safe now,” he said, and his voice was surprisingly gentle, like he’d somehow sensed how scared you really were. “Ok?”

“Ok” You swallowed hard, trying to hold back the tears. He wasn’t wrong. You were scared, terrified even, but for the first time in forever, someone wasn’t judging you for it.

No one in your family ever told you you were safe, ever told you that everything would be okay. You sniffled, the tears threatening to spill over.

You didn't want to break down in front of him.

The car slowed to a stop, and you realized you were at a diner, the neon lights buzzing softly. Rafe looked over at you, almost like he was waiting for you to protest or make some excuse. You didn’t. You just followed him out of the car, not saying a word.

Inside, the place smelled like burgers, fries, and cigarettes. The warmth was a stark contrast to the cold night outside, and it made you feel a little safer, like you were stepping into something straight out of a movie. Rafe led you to a booth and slid into the seat across from you. For a second, you both just stared at the menu, neither of you speaking. You didn’t know if you were supposed to order, or if he would. But then he broke the silence.

"What do you want?" He didn’t sound like he was expecting an answer right away. Like he was just making sure you were okay.

You looked at the menu, but your mind was elsewhere. You didn’t care what you ate. You just... didn’t want him to feel like he had to do this.

Like he had to take care of you.

“Just fries and a water,” you said, you didn't even know why you said it. It wasn’t like you had much of an appetite.

He raised an eyebrow, but he didn’t comment on it. He called the waitress over and ordered for both of you. A burger, fries, and a milkshake. When she left, he turned to you, his gaze softer than you thought he’d ever let it be.

"How are you holding up?" His voice was quieter now, the edge gone. He wasn’t the Rafe Cameron you’d heard about, the one everyone warned you to stay away from. He seemed... almost normal, it was freaking you out.

You shrugged, suddenly feeling embarrassed. "I don't know," you muttered. "Just tired, I guess."

He nodded, leaning back in his seat, but you caught him glancing at you every few seconds like he was still trying to figure you out.

“What are you running from” he said bluntly, his stare showing no signs playfulness, just a full serious look

you looked away, your tears sticking with your mascara and glitter eyeshadow “Home”

“Been there” he nodded taking in your appearance in, how could such a pretty girl like you be so alone and lost?

The food came quickly, and Rafe pushed the plate with the burger and fries toward you. "Eat," he said simply. “I’m not going to let you go hungry.”

You picked at the fries, not feeling hungry but not wanting to make him feel like you didn’t appreciate it. The milkshake was so cold and thick, and when you took a sip, you felt a small sense of comfort settle in. It wasn’t much, but it was something.

As you ate, Rafe kept glancing at you, almost like he was waiting for you to crack. When you sniffled again, wiping your nose with the back of your sleeve, he frowned. "I already told you, you don’t have to be scared," he said, his voice dropping a little. “You’re safe here. I’m not gonna let anything happen to you.”

It was a strange thing for him to say, considering who he was. But in that moment, you believed him. You really did.

When you finished the milkshake and most of the burger, you felt a little more alive again, but the weight of everything of your family, of the lies, of everything that had pushed you to this point, was still there.

And you still had nowhere to go.

you just had a sparkly sack and a dream.

Rafe didn’t say much after that, just leaned back in his seat, and let you gather your thoughts. But when the waitress came by to take your plates, you stood up, and swung the creaky glass door open feeling that familiar unease creep back in.

"I’ll just go to the docks, the ferry leaves at 6am," you said, Turing around to see rafe as he followed right behind. You were going to take the ferry to the mainland, with the little money you had left. You weren’t sure where you were going from there, but it was something.

Rafe’s expression turned serious, almost annoyed. “No,” he said flatly.

“what?”

“I’m not letting you go to the docks. It’s dangerous, and I doubt you even have enough money to get anywh-.”

“You can’t fix everything!” you snapped, feeling all the frustration you’d been holding back suddenly spill out. "You can’t. fix. everything"

Rafe’s jaw tightened. “Maybe I can’t fix everything,” he said, his voice firm. “But I can try to make sure you’re okay. I can’t just let you go off like that.”

You glared at him. “You don’t even know me. Why do you care?”

For a moment, he didn’t answer. He just looked at you like he was weighing something in his mind. Then he exhaled, running a hand through his buzzed head. “I know enough.”

You stared at him, unsure what to say. Your whole world was falling apart, and yet, here was this guy, this person you should’ve never trusted, according to everyone you knew

but then again why does it matter what everyone says? if you’re going by that logic then you would be at the bottom of the barrel.

“You want to runaway right?” he said, voice steady. “I have a place, it’s 5 hours away, that far enough for you?”

“Do you even know how old I am!? Hello, I could turn you in right now for being a weirdo” you asked with sass, anything to get him off of your case

“ ‘sticky’s’ won’t hire under 18.” He said nonchalantly rolling his eyes, “unless you lied or where getting paid under the table? Then I could turn you and your employer in”

You didn’t know if it was the exhaustion in his voice, but something in you cracked. “i didn’t lie, I’m 18” you said your voice trembling slightly. “I’ll go with you. But no funny business, I will jump out of the freaking car” you said crossing your arms

“Whatever you say, sugar”

Was this a good idea? Probably not. You’re parents would ironically raise hell over this town once they found out their precious daughter had run off with Rafe fucking Cameron

© 𝐅𝐀𝐖𝐍𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐓, 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟓