#I’ve tried out but got no traction with

[alwaysxinxtrouble]

I've been feeling kind of silly lately for shoving the boys in every fandom I like rather than picking up muses from those fandoms. I understand it makes people hesitant to write with me because how the hell is a marvel muse going to fit into <insert fandom name here>. I've attempted to write muses from other fandoms (Enzo from TVD, Killian from OUAT, Graham Humbert (OUAT), Harry Hook, Isaac Lahey (Teen Wolf), Long John Silver (Black Sails), Leonard McCoy (Star Trek, 3 times I tried), Jack Frost (Rise of the Guardians), & Mary Queen of Scots (Reign)) but obviously, none of them stayed. Still I feel silly just hucking the boys in whatever damn fandom I please.

[ivyloveheart]

Yeah idk I guess I’m just gonna go back to just reblogging things idk. Not really too in the UTMV fandom anymore and I still can’t get many interactions.

[oskea93]

Kansas Anymore: Drabble #1

Tyler Owens x OC

Summary: In which Riley Owens, the ex-wife of the infamous Tornado Wrangler, has 36 hours to come to terms if moving to a whole new country with their small daughter is something she truly wants to do.

Warnings: Cursing, angst

✶ Chapter One ✶ Chapter Two ✶

■ Italics = Flashback

■ A/N: So this is just a little outtake update. These drabbles will be focused in the past and will spill the tea on Tyler and Riley's relationship - good and bad. I am gonna start writing chapter three in the coming days so be on the lookout for that... And I may have another fic on the brain... Stay tuned ❤️

■ Taglist is available - just drop a comment! Would love to hear your thoughts, questions, or maybe just drop by to say hello! Can’t wait to hear from y'all

TL:  @ellesmythe  @18lkpeters @hookslove1592  @djs8891 @smoothdogsgirl @queenslandlover-93 @imjustamehbleh @love2write2626 @lt-jakeseresin @starcrossedtrek

@lauraseresin @axolotllover225 @kmc1989

“You can’t be serious right now!” My knuckles were white as my fingers curled tightly around the handle that sat above the window. “You’re gonna get us killed – fucking turn around!”

The car veered sharply around a corner, tires squealing against the asphalt. My heart pounded in my chest, each beat echoing like a drum in my ears. The sky was pitch black, the only light coming from the dim glow of the dashboard and the constant flash of lightening high in the sky.

“Relax, I’ve got this!” Tyler’s voice was steady, but I could see the tension in his clenched jaw and the way his eyes darted to the rearview mirror as the funnel barreled closer.

“Relax? Are you kidding me?” I shouted over the roar of the engine. “We’re not in some action movie! You’re gonna get us both killed!”

He didn’t answer, just pressed harder on the gas pedal. The speedometer needle climbed higher, and I could feel the car vibrating with the effort. I glanced out the window, trees blurring into a dark smear as we raced past them.

“We can’t outrun a tornado, Tyler!” I yelled, the panic rising in my throat. “This is insane!”

Tyler glanced over, his hands reaching over, pulling the belt tighter across my chest. “Wanna bet?”

The wind howled outside, shaking the truck as if it were a toy. Debris flew past the windshield, some of it slamming against the car with loud thuds. I could barely see the road ahead; the rain was falling in sheets, and the wipers struggled to keep up.

“Tyler, please!” I tried to keep my voice steady, but it cracked with fear. “We need to find shelter, now!”

He ignored me, his eyes fixed on the road, his knuckles as white as mine on the steering wheel. The car hit a pothole, and we were jolted violently, my head smacking against the window despite the seatbelt. Pain shot through my skull, and I tasted blood.

“Damn it, Tyler!” I screamed, tears blurring my vision. “This isn’t worth it!”

In the distance, I could see the tornado’s massive funnel, an ominous silhouette against the flashes of lightning. It was like a monstrous black snake, twisting and writhing, consuming everything in its path. The sound was deafening, a constant roar that drowned out even our screaming.

“God dammit, Riley!” Tyler yelled. “I fucking got this!”

But the tornado was gaining on us, its monstrous form growing larger and more terrifying by the second. The air pressure dropped, my ears popping painfully. The car swerved again, narrowly missing a fallen tree branch.

“Tyler, we’re not gonna make it!” I sobbed, clutching the handle above the window as if it were a lifeline. My mind raced, picturing the car being lifted and tossed like a rag doll, the metal crumpling, the glass shattering. This couldn’t be how it ended.

With a final, desperate glance at the rearview mirror, Tyler seemed to make a decision. He yanked the wheel to the right, sending us skidding off the road and into a muddy field. The tires spun, struggling for traction, but Tyler kept the pedal to the metal, urging the car forward.

There wasn’t a house in sight – just an open field. I kept my eyes trained on the scene in front of us, glancing every other second to see how Tyler was reacting. His once cool and calm façade was now replaced by worry and fear – feelings that the so-called tornado wrangler never dared to show.

The car's headlights cut through the darkness, illuminating the swirling chaos of wind and rain. The tornado’s monstrous form was a dark shadow against the flashes of lightning, growing larger and more menacing by the second. The air pressure dropped even further, making it hard to breathe, my ears popping painfully.

“Tyler, what are we going to do?” I cried, my voice barely audible over the roar of the storm. “There’s no place to hide!”

Tyler’s eyes darted around, searching for any sign of shelter, but the field stretched endlessly in every direction, offering no refuge. The car hit another bump, and I was thrown against the door, my heart racing faster than ever.

“Just hold on, Riley!” Tyler shouted; his voice tinged with desperation. The tires struggled to find traction in the muddy ground, the car fishtailing wildly.

I wasn’t the praying type – never having grown up going to church and all that, but at that moment I was desperate. “Please God – please God.” I whispered the words like a mantra, hoping some higher power would hear me, even if I had never believed before.

The wind howled around us, the noise deafening, as debris began to pelt the car. The windows rattled, threatening to shatter. The car lurched as it hit another rut, and I could hear Tyler cursing under his breath, fighting to keep control.

“Look!” Tyler yelled, pointing ahead. Through the sheets of rain, I could make out the faint outline of a small bridge, its weathered wood barely standing against the storm.

Tyler didn’t hesitate. He gunned the engine, aiming straight for the structure. The car bounced and jostled over the uneven ground, the structure growing larger and larger in our view. As we neared, Tyler slammed on the brakes, sending the car skidding to a halt against the side of the bridge. Without a word, we both threw open our doors and ran for cover, the wind nearly knocking us off our feet.

“Hold onto that pile!” Tyler’s voice was barely heard over the roar of the wind as I wrapped my arms around the wooden fixture. Tyler’s body hovered over mine as the rain pelted us sideways, mud and debris hitting us as the tornado approached. The red truck that Tyler treasured began to be pulled away only to be slammed back into the side of the bridge, my screams being overshadowed by the wind as nature’s force laid upon us. The wooden planks shuddered as the rusty nails began to give way, ripping off the top.

The bridge groaned and creaked, the old wood and metal straining under the sheer force of the tornado. Splinters flew through the air like missiles, and I pressed my face against the wooden pile, trying to shield myself from the onslaught. Tyler’s grip on me tightened, his body a protective barrier against the fury outside.

“We’re going to make it!” Tyler shouted, though his voice was filled with equal parts determination and fear. I held onto his words like a lifeline, my heart pounding in my chest.

The wind howled louder, and I could feel the bridge lifting slightly beneath us, threatening to be torn from its foundations. My mind raced with images of us being flung into the storm, the bridge collapsing, and Tyler’s truck being swallowed by the tornado. I squeezed my eyes shut, praying for the nightmare to end.

The noise was deafening, a relentless cacophony of wind, rain, and destruction. I felt like I was being pulled in every direction, the tornado’s force almost too much to bear. But Tyler’s presence kept me grounded, his unwavering strength giving me hope.

“Just a little longer!” Tyler yelled, his voice barely audible over the storm. “It’s almost over!”

A loud crack echoed through the air as one of the bridge’s support beams snapped, the structure shuddering violently. I tightened my grip on the pile, my knuckles white with the effort. The wind seemed to intensify, and I could feel my body being lifted slightly off the ground, the pull of the tornado almost irresistible.

And then, as suddenly as it began, the wind started to die down. The roar of the tornado faded, replaced by the steady patter of rain and the distant rumble of thunder. The pressure around us eased, and I dared to open my eyes.

The bridge was still standing, though barely. The top was partially ripped off, and debris was scattered everywhere, but we were alive. Tyler loosened his hold on me, glancing around to assess the damage.

“I think it’s moving away,” he said, his voice filled with cautious relief.

My eyes moved around, my body still shaking as tears started to prick against my eyes. The bridge was a tattered mess but for some reason we were still here – still alive. “You okay, baby?” Tyler’s hand caressed my arm, turning me to face him as he checked for any visible injuries. “Looks like everyth-“

“You stupid fucking asshole!” His body fell back at the force of my push.

Tyler's eyes widened in shock as he stumbled back, trying to comprehend the sudden shift in my demeanor. “What the hell, Riley!”

I could feel the anger boiling inside me, a mixture of fear, relief, and frustration. "You almost got us killed, Tyler! What were you thinking, driving straight into the storm like that?"

His eyes stayed connected with mine, searching for the right words but knowing they would still be wrong in my view. “Baby—” He sighed. “It’s a part of the job – tornadoes are my job.”

I stared at him, incredulous. "Your job? Your job is to drag me into life-and-death situations without even a warning? Without any regard for our safety?"

Tyler ran a hand through his hair, his face a mix of guilt and defensiveness. "I didn't expect it to get this bad. I thought we could get through it like we always do."

"Like we always do?" I echoed, my voice rising. "This isn't some routine storm chase, Tyler. This was a goddamn tornado! I could have died out there! We both could have!"

He took a step closer, his expression softening. "Riley, I know you're scared. I was scared too. But this is what I do. I study storms, I chase them. I can't just sit on the sidelines."

"But why drag me into it?" I asked, tears welling up in my eyes. "I didn't sign up for this."

Tyler took a deep breath, his eyes never leaving mine. "Because I need you with me. You're my anchor, Riley. You keep me grounded. I thought... I thought having you there would make it easier."

I shook my head, the tears spilling over. "It's not easier, Tyler. It's terrifying. I can't go through that again."

He stayed silent for a moment, “Would this be a bad time to ask you to marry me?”

My head jerking up, meeting his gaze, “What?”

I watched as he slowly reached into his denim pocket, pulling out the diamond ring. “I’ve had it in my pocket for about a week now – lost the damn box – almost lost the fucking ring a time or two.”

The tension in the air was palpable as Tyler revealed the ring. Despite the fear and adrenaline coursing through me from the storm, my heart skipped a beat. His eyes were earnest, filled with a mix of hope and apprehension.

"Riley," he began, his voice trembling slightly. "I know this isn't the most romantic proposal, and I know I've put you through hell. But I love you. I want to spend my life with you, chasing storms or not."

I stared at the ring, sparkling even under the dim light, and then back at Tyler. The weight of the moment pressed down on me, the reality of our dangerous lives juxtaposed with the promise of a future together. It was as if the storm outside mirrored the turmoil within me.

"Tyler," I whispered, my voice breaking. "This is crazy. You’re crazy."

He nodded, a small smile forming on his lips. "Maybe I am. But I’m crazy about you, Riley."

A laugh bubbled up, mingling with my tears. Despite everything, despite the fear and the chaos, there was love. And maybe, just maybe, that was enough.

I took a deep breath, my hand reaching out to touch the ring. "Yes," I said, my voice steadying. "Yes, I'll marry you."

For a moment, the world seemed to stand still. Tyler's face lit up with joy, and he slipped the ring onto my finger. It felt strange, comforting and surreal all at once. But in that instant, surrounded by the remnants of the storm, it felt right.

Tyler pulled me into an embrace, holding me tight as if he was afraid to let go. I could feel his heart pounding against mine, a rhythm that matched my own. The storm outside seemed to quiet, as if acknowledging the significance of our moment.

"I promise," Tyler murmured into my hair, "I'll do everything I can to keep you safe. I know it's dangerous out there, but I can't imagine facing it without you."

[kingpreciouswrld]

If you’re still accepting Miranda Priestly x Reader fic ideas i’ve got one!

Miranda and Reader have been married or a long time now secretly of course to prevent a media mishap. The reader is a stylist who sometimes stops to visit and help with a showcase, maybe she comes in casually to have lunch with Miranda and gets stopped by Andrea and Emily who try to get her to leave as they don’t know her(only Nigel does) and they’re both trying to tell Emily and Andrea that she’s allowed back there without exposing the marriage, eventually Miranda just comes out and asks why they’re touching her wife ( or something of the sort???) feel free to branch from this

ask and ye shall receive!

I hope you like it! It's been a while since I've written for anyone but myself :3

Nobody's Gonna Know

It’s an unusually busy day in your office. The clothes you’ve ordered haven’t arrived yet and your workers seem to not know how to conduct themselves in a manner without the very needed materials. You looked on through the glass doors as your workers ran around like headless chickens, trying to come up with something to show you before you needed to leave.

As a well-known stylist, it was your job to come up with new and creative or out-of-the-box looks to those who paid for your help. You mainly helped with showcases that Runway Magazine held and the clothes you needed today were actually from Runway Magazine. Through the grapevine you’ve heard that their workers were just as clueless as yours when it came to the clothes you were seeking.

As you sat in your little office, you thought back to when you first started out. You were a nobody, hell you weren’t even a New York local. No, you came from a small town in the middle of nowhere. Having nothing to your name, you first tried making it in California. You gained some traction which led you to move to New York. At first you were against it. You didn’t like big cities all that much, it just wasn’t your scene but you knew that your talent and job called for being around big things.

A year into the job, you attended a charity event where you were introduced to the one and only, Miranda Priestly. It was hard to read the woman at first but you saw it in her eyes, she liked you or at least, your work. That’s how it all started. You started to come and do jobs at Runway Magazine while also taking some jobs on the side. Not to mention the growing relationship between you and the editor which also included the lives of her rambunctious daughters and her slobbery saint bernard.

3 years passed and Miranda and you kept things underwraps. Heaven knows you’d have a field day for Page Six and their stinging words, so you have kept your relationship from everyone. Well, everyone except those closest to you.

Sighing, you looked at the clock. It was almost lunch time and Miranda didn’t like to be kept waiting.

You grabbed your bag and slung it over your shoulder, “Annie, reschedule the runthrough until this afternoon. I’m sure Runway will do the same due to the circumstances with its clothing gone missing. I’m going out for lunch.” Your assistant nodded and frantically went to work at her computer as you passed her.

Making your way to Elias Clarke, you weaved through the small crowds before entering the building– blending in with the clackers around you. No one knew about your relationship with the fashion queen so you easily blended with crowds and you loved it. No one bothered you.

Until they did.

You had made your way up to Runway’s floors when you passed the front desk and made your way towards Miranda’s inner sanctum. You’ve been to Runway multiple times so no one blinked an eye as you strolled down the halls.

Reaching the outer office of Miranda’s, you haven’t intended to actually be stopped by her assistants.

Andy was the first to notice you as Emily was out.

“Oh! Y/n! I’m sorry but Miranda is in a meeting so you wouldn’t be able to go in right away.” 

You looked at the clock above the assistant’s desk. 11:56 am. Knowing your wife, you knew she wouldn’t mind if you interrupted her work. She never minded when you did it at home, so why would her workplace be different?

“Trust me, I think Miranda wouldn’t mind Andy. So I’m just gonna…”

You tried to step past the young woman but Andy just stepped in front of you. The assistant’s eyes widened as you tried to step past her again but she blocked your way through.

There was only so much you could do so you sighed as you looked back at the clock. 

11:58 am.

This time, you tried to listen for the soft voices coming from your wife’s office. There were only two that you could pick up on. One was, of course, Miranda’s but the other was a man’s voice. Somewhat…feminine? But not too feminine.

“Is it just Nigel and Miranda in there?”

As you tried stepping past the brunette, again she blocked your path.

“Look Y/n, if you keep this up I’m going to have to call security.”

At this time, Emily walked in and took in the scene in front of her, “Andrea? What’s going on here?”

As Andy was distracted, you tried to step past her again but only to be grabbed by the arm and pulled back, away from Miranda’s office door, “Woah! Okay, no touchy, alright? These cost more than your paycheck alright?”

Emily huffed and rolled her eyes but didn’t release you. Andy looked like she was nervous about losing her job. She knew you were stubborn and wouldn’t stop until you were able to see Miranda.

“Since you already have her, escort her to the lobby Em. She’s been trying to break into Miranda’s office. “ ‘Break into’? I’m just trying to see my– ugh, look, I’ll just wait alright? You guys don’t need to be so touchy about–”

Before you could finish your sentence, the brit was already moving towards the front desk area. You immediately stood your ground so the redhead would have a harder time moving you. You’d show them stubborn.

As the three of you were arguing and you were still struggling against Emily’s hold– you didn’t know how the redhead was this strong– you three failed to notice Miranda’s office door open.

“Look, if you let me go, i’ll make sure you still have your job at the end of the day, alright?”

Emily scoffed, “As if you’re so important here, you’re just a small town no one who just happened to meet Miranda and kiss her ass all the way till–”

“Is there a reason you’re restraining my wife?”

Both assistant’s straightened their posture at the cool voice before they realized what she said.

Emily gaped, looking like a fish out of water while Andy looked more afraid of losing her job this time.

Miranda’s eyes were still where Emily had a grip on you and she glared at the redhead, “Let. Go. Emily.” 

The brit let your arm go as if your arm burned her and you grumbled as you rubbed your arm, trying to soothe the lingering pain of Emily’s grip. Behind the editor, Nigel looked as if he was about to burst out laughing at the girls’ faces.

“Now, how about some lunch my love?”

[delulugirlulu]

Chapter 1: Tension and Tease

Characters - Sylus x Reader, Sylus x Y/N

Word Count - 680

A/N - I'm so sorry if the word count is short, I swear Chapter 2 and 3 are longer ;-; Anyway, thank you to everyone who read, noted and reblogged the Prologue - I wasn't expecting to get that much traction and it warms my delulu heart that other delulus enjoyed the story somehow (◡ ‿ ◡ .)

And now, the story...

Y/N walked out of her home office, rolling her shoulders as she stretched, trying to work out the knots of tension from a long day of typing and clicking away in front of a computer. The familiar weight of fatigue clung to her, but when her eyes landed on Sylus sprawled out on the couch, her exhaustion seemed to disappear. There he was, lounging as if he owned the room, his tall, muscular frame taking up more space than what was fair. His silver hair, messy and tousled, caught the dim light, making him look even more alluring than usual.

Her gaze wandered over him, from the sharp line of his jaw to the smirk that tugged at the corner of his lips. He was watching her—of course, he was. He always watched her with that same intensity, a mix of amusement and something darker, something deeper that sent a thrill down her spine.

“Hey, love,” she said softly, plopping down beside him. She pressed herself against his warm body, leaning her head on his shoulder. “Sorry I’ve been so busy. I’ve been working non-stop and I—”

“—fell asleep?” Sylus finished for her, raising an eyebrow while looking at her.

She nodded sheepishly. “Yeah, fell asleep. I didn’t mean to…”

His chuckle was a low, rich sound that vibrated in her chest. “No need to apologize, kitten. I know you’ve got your own thing going on. I’m just glad you’re awake now.” His eyes gleamed with mischief as his hand slid up her thigh, his fingers brushing over her skin in a way that made her breath catch. “Though, I hope you’re not planning on falling asleep again.”

Her body reacted to his touch, a shiver running down her spine as she turned her face toward him, lips curling into a playful smile. “Maybe? I’m still a little tired,” she yawned.

His grip on her thigh tightened, and she felt the heat of his body pressing against hers. “Oh, I think I can wake you up.” His voice was a growl, low and dangerous, the kind of sound that made her core tighten in response.

She let out a breathless laugh, pretending to be unaffected. “What do you mean by that, mister?”

“You tell me.” His lips were suddenly at her neck, pressing soft kisses to the sensitive spot just below her ear. His breath was warm against her skin, and every gentle touch sent sparks of desire racing through her. “I think you need a different kind of energy,” he murmured, his lips moving lower, his tongue tracing the curve of her collarbone. “Something to get your heart racing.”

Her heart was already racing, each beat a reminder of how close he was, how much she wanted him. She could feel the tension building between them, an electric current that had been simmering beneath the surface all night. She tried to play it cool, to keep some semblance of control, but the truth was, she was at his mercy. She always had been.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she whispered, feigning innocence as she tilted her head to give him better access. “You’ll have to demonstrate.”

His chuckle was a dark, dangerous sound as his hand slid higher up her thigh, fingers brushing the edge of her shorts. “Oh, I’ll demonstrate, alright.” He pulled back just enough to look into her eyes, his red gaze burning into hers. “But you need to be honest with me about what you want, kitten. No games.”

Her breath hitched as his thumb brushed over her skin, a soft but deliberate touch that made her pulse quicken. She swallowed hard, her body trembling beneath his touch. “I... I want you, Sylus,” she whispered, the words barely audible but thick with desire. “I want all of you.”

His eyes darkened, and for a moment, the air between them felt too thick to breathe. “Good girl,” he growled, his hand sliding under the fabric of her shorts, fingers teasing her already sensitive skin. “Now, let’s see how honest you can really be.”

__________________________________________

Feedbacks and comments are welcome! Just don’t be mean/rude or nasty in general because why the fuck would you ૮(˶╥︿╥)ა

[apomaro-mellow]

Whatever Stevie Wants 12

Part 11

Somehow, Steve was able to convince Eleanor that the twins had been sent away to one of the houses his parents kept on the other side of the country and that her services were no longer needed. She would be paid through the month, however. He assumed that, plus his heavy sobbing convinced her to go home. While on his own, Steve searched and searched through the cabinets until he found it. A charger. The phone already had plenty of juice but Steve wanted to be sure it wouldn’t die on him.

Keeping it on silent was vital. As was always having it on him. Steve knew his mother still snooped around his room when he wasn’t in it, so he couldn’t even risk hiding it away somewhere. His room was also where his mother kept the wedding dress, hung on a mannequin with a figure he didn’t have anymore and he’s not sure if he ever did. 

Alone in his room, Steve took the phone out and looked at the video. It had gotten traction and a few comments.

This is the creepiest thing I've seen in a long while!!

When you find Steve can you drop his parents’ location? I just wanna talk

This is gonna be one of those things new CC fans will think us oldheads are lying about in a few years.

That was when Steve got an idea. The phone was just to help coordinate his own escape now that the girls were free. But he had a good opportunity to document what he was going through here. He turned the camera on, first on himself.

“Steve Munson again. This is my room. It’s the same room I’ve been in since I outgrew the nursery. And that”, he flipped the camera around to the dress. “Is my wedding dress. Long time fans of Corroded Coffin might be aware that I am already married. And no we did not get a divorce-”

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

Eddie was bouncing a fussy Violet in his arms. It was one of those days where nothing calmed or satisfied her. He knew she was cranky and needed a nap but she just wouldn’t go down. Her diaper was fresh, her belly was full, she had on her most comfortable onesie. And yet she writhed and her face was red.

Eddie was at his wit’s end when Jeff came up to him. Vanessa was already down for her nap. Jeff held out a shirt and Eddie caught a whiff of Steve’s scent easily. He held it up to Violet, practically wrapping her in it and she calmed down almost right away. She cooed and Eddie held her to his chest, letting his heartbeat lull her to sleep before letting her down gently into her crib. 

“Thanks”, he whispered to Jeff on the way out.

“I didn’t just come to give you that. You’re gonna wanna see this”, Jeff said as he took out his phone.

Steve had been busy.

If it wasn’t videos of him explicitly narrating points about his childhood or day, it was simply a recording of a conversation his parents’ had. It was never heartwarming or flattering. And it had been days since they’d gotten the girls and yet no messages from Steve.

“What’s his plan now? Why’s he still there?”

Eddie did what he always did when he was nervous and searching for answers which was sit while bouncing his legs uncontrollably and fidgeting with his fingers.

“He’s gathering evidence”, Grant said.

“If his parents did this once, they’d probably try again. If not Steve then maybe even the babies”, Gareth said, arms crossed.

Eddie had already been considering murder when he found out about all this. He would make good on that if the Harringtons ever tried anything like this again. He took a deep breath.

Jeff nudged him with his shoulder. “We need to do what we can on our end and be ready for him.”

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

It had been a couple of weeks since Vanessa and Violet’s escape and incredibly, his parents hadn’t noticed a thing. Steve remembered his father having very little presence in his life before he hit puberty, but his mother’s lack of care would have been worrying had she not been a whirlwind of preparations for this party.

On the surface it was Steve’s official homecoming after ‘being away abroad’. His other two suitors would be here tonight. Ridwan West, the politician and Ethan McBride, the one who had wanted Steve to leave behind his beautiful pups and have new ones by him. Before tonight, his parents had argued about whether Steve should wear a suit or a dress. 

He preferred pants most days but he liked dresses and skirts too. He’d worn a dress at his wedding, having found a perfect one. But it wasn’t about what he wanted; what his preference was or anything like that. It was about the image his parents wanted him to project and at first they couldn’t agree. Eventually, his father convinced his mother that a suit was more appropriate and so that was what Steve wore.

Steve wasn’t brought in front of his would-be suitors right away, no that would be tacky to get it all out of the way right when the party started. Instead, Steve knew his role was to tail his parents as they greeted other guests. But soon enough, he had to meet them, starting with Ridwan. 

“Heard this one’s feisty”, Ridwan waggled his brows.

His mother put on a laugh but Steve could tell there was a nervous edge to it. She had put this whole thing together as quickly as possible to keep the rumor mill from spreading what Steve had done to Findlay but there was no stopping that machine. Steve either had a tight smile or a neutral expression. But sometimes his neutral read as bitchy and he got pinched by his mother, so he tried to keep the smile on.

Ridwan kept talking to his parents, barely engaging Steve in conversation, but having no problem leering like he was trying to see through his clothes. It made Steve feel like he was on display despite being fully clothed. It wasn’t that long ago that he was on display in a good way, the memory of the beach seemed so far away. When this was all over, he needed another vacation. 

Layton and Ridwan went off to talk together and Margaret took Steve with her to talk with one of her friends. Steve had learned how to block out most of these kinds of conversations but he was pulled back into it when his father returned with Ridwan and asked to borrow Steve for a bit. So Steve went along. 

Steve didn’t say a word as the other two men discussed how’d they’d done in golf the other day and how’d they’d fare the next time they got on the green. They got to one of the sitting rooms, the ones where usually his father drank and smoked with the other men after gathering like this. There was a pool table and a bar and places to sit. It was too early in the party for anyone to be here yet, so the three of them were alone.

“Steve, Ridwan here has been wanting to get to know you better”, Layton said. “Away from prying eyes.”

“Privacy is such a scarce thing nowadays”, Ridwan said.

Steve didn’t realize what was happening until his father was already out of the room, door closing behind him. Steve didn’t call out, begging his father to have some decency, to care for him, to want him to retain some dignity. All he could think of was that this was what his father had known. What his mother had known. Perhaps years ago they had been in the same position. His mother, coerced into letting a man she barely knew feel her up just so he would choose her over someone else.

Whether or not this had happened to them didn’t matter. They should still be better than their own parents and not want this for their son. Before Ridwan could touch him, Steve slapped his hands away.

“Don’t you fucking touch me.”

“What did you just say to me?”

“You heard me. What a fucking sleaze.”

Ridwan frowned. “Now what am I going to tell your father? That you’re a bad sport?”

“Fuck him! And you! And my mother while I’m at it!”

“So you’ll spread for that band but now you’ll cross your legs. Goddamn slut-” He let out a groan as Steve kicked him in the chest. A mere slap wasn’t enough for this man.

Steve burst from the room, stomping out. He remembered the day he’d left for college. His parents had put on a party then too, hoping to keep him from leaving and making a scene. They hadn’t approved of where he was going. Steve had screamed and shouted and walked out in a blaze then, leaving a mark. 

This time, he walked with his head held high and without haste. He went right up to the door and walked out, leaving behind the clinking glasses and fake laughter. He’d never look back. It was dark out but he still had the phone and used the flashlight to guide his way from the house, to the gate, then out to the road.

He wasn’t walking for long before headlights flashed from behind. He could tell the car was moving slowly. Shit. He should have grabbed a knife or something before leaving. He could probably use the phone as a weapon though…Steve braced himself as the car slowed up beside him. God, Eddie was going to give him so much shit if he got kidnapped twice-

“Hey good lookin’ you come out here often?”

“Eddie!”

Thank goodness the door opened in time because Steve all but threw himself at the car. Eddie hadn’t even had time to unbuckle his seatbelt and get out. His arms wrapped around Steve all the same. Steve was in his lap, legs hanging out of the car but he didn’t care as he kissed Eddie like it had been an eternity. 

“Can we at least close the door so I can start driving away?”, Jeff asked.

Steve pulled away, panting a little. “Don’t be jealous”, he said before leaning over and kissing him square on the mouth. 

His body was completely in the car, so Eddie was able to close the door. When Steve released his lips, Jeff took off. 

“How did you know to be here?”, Steve asked, settling into Eddie’s lap, seatbelts be damned.

Eddie looked sheepish and Jeff had to answer for him. “We’ve basically been stalking the place.”

“Casing, we were casing the joint”, Eddie amended. His arms went around Steve in a tight hold and he nuzzled his neck, inhaling his scent. “Ready to go home, baby?”

Steve relaxed for the first time in weeks, his whole body sagging and his brain getting fuzzy already. “Yes, daddy.”

Part 13 (final)

[pweepsiee]

Thank you but goodbye

This won’t get any traction because only pictures of tits get pushed or interacted with but that’s okay. I’ll add tags so you guys see this anyway.

It’s hard to know where to start. I spent a long time on here, putting pieces of myself out into the void, hoping for connection, validation, maybe even some kind of understanding. But it’s been a journey that taught me more than I ever anticipated—about others, about myself, and about the darker sides of online spaces and human nature.

I’ve been through more than I ever thought I’d face here. I’ve had people send me things no one should have to see—gore, graphic threats of rape and murder. Strangers who decided they had the right to punish me with violence for simply existing and sharing my body on my own terms. I’ve been slut-shamed, insulted, torn apart, told I’m not “enough” in a thousand different ways. Too fat, too ugly, too bitchy, too much of a people pleaser. For some, my body was never enough to satisfy whatever expectation they’d dreamed up for me. And when I expressed my pain, I was told to just “try harder” to please. Every insult, every attack—it was relentless.

At first, there was a thrill in it. The idea that people were paying attention. But over time, it became less about freedom and self-expression, and more like a trap. I started needing the notifications, addicted to the fleeting rush of being “seen,” even if it came with all the ugliness. I posted things that made me feel raw, exposed, and ashamed—but still, I kept them up. It wasn’t even about me anymore; it was about performing for a faceless audience, one that only wanted to consume and never connect. I kept hoping that if I posted more, someone might notice that I was struggling, that I was hurting. But the moments I tried to be vulnerable were met with derision, mockery, or worse, cruelty.

On October 6th, I tried to end my life. It wasn’t a whim or a flippant decision—it was the culmination of feeling completely worthless, invisible beyond what I could offer visually, and unheard. I had tried to signal that I was in pain, and the responses I got were gut-wrenching. People told me to “try again,” mocking my failure to die. Others brushed it aside entirely, demanding I get back to posting my body as if I had no value beyond that. It was like looking into a mirror that only showed one version of myself—a version people felt entitled to consume and degrade.

There’s a sickness in spaces like these, a perverse lack of empathy and human decency. There’s a void where kindness, respect, and understanding should be. I’ve encountered men who would spit their hate, their misogyny, their violent fantasies at me without a second thought, men who have shown me how easily they can strip away my humanity to satisfy their own needs. Some are rapists, some are worse, and they all seem to revel in their cruelty, hiding behind screens. They have taught me that, to them, I am just an object—a body, a pair of tits, something to use and discard. They’ve shown me how quickly love, admiration, or even simple respect can turn into venom the moment they don’t get exactly what they want.

Being on here has been like swimming in polluted water, beautiful on the surface but poisonous underneath. What started as a space to share myself turned into a source of harm that corroded my mental and physical well-being. It was more than just being objectified—it was the sense that I didn’t even matter as a person, only as a vessel for gratification. And that feeling sank deeper and deeper, leaving wounds I’m still working to heal.

I’ve met a few kind people here, people who saw me for more than just a body, who offered me small glimpses of kindness, understanding, and friendship. To those few: thank you. Your kindness did not go unnoticed, and I wish you nothing but peace, joy, and all the love you deserve. To those who saw my humanity and respected it—I’m grateful.

But to the rest: those who degraded me, insulted me, sent me threats or slurs, and preyed on my vulnerabilities—you’ll reap what you sow, one way or another. I don’t hold anger toward you, but I do pity you. And I have no intention of letting your words and actions follow me into the future.

There’s been a silver lining in all of this, and it’s one of the few positive things I’m taking with me. Through all of the toxicity, I discovered something important about myself. I realized I am a lesbian, and that I no longer want to be viewed as something for men to consume. I am worth so much more than being reduced to a body on a screen, worth more than any like, reblog, or message notification. I deserve to be seen, truly seen, as a whole person, and to be loved for who I am, not what I look like or what I can give to others.

This is goodbye. For those who truly cared, I’ll remember you. For those who didn’t, I’ll leave you behind, along with this platform that no longer serves me. I’m taking my life back, my self-worth back, and finding peace in spaces that don’t drain me.

Thank you, and goodbye. ♡´･ᴗ･`♡

[stars1997]

Lover boy - part 3

Warnings: None

Pairing(s): Jeremy Swayman x Fem!Reader

Summary: Y/N Ullmark gets a job with the Bruins as their new photographer. They haven't seen each other in a few years, some things have changed. What happens when her brother's best friend develops a crush on her?

_________________________________________________

It’s been two weeks since I got the job and it’s been everything I dreamed of. I’ve gotten really close with Pasta and Coyle, but all of the boys are great. It was TikTok day and I was headed to the locker room to see who would want to work with me to make some .

“Hey Y/n I heard we’re doing vids for the TikTok today. I have an idea.” He says pulling his phone out of his back pocket. He scrolls to his saved videos and turns up his volume. It was the “you need a hug” trend.

“Yeah, but do you know who would want to do that one?” I ask him.

“Actually, I was thinking you should do it.”

“Absolutely not.” I answer quickly.

“Come on. People need to see the pretty face behind the camera.”  Sway says with a smirk.

My cheeks flush red.

“Fine but only if you do it with me.” I say, giving in quickly.

“That was the plan peeps.” Jer says before walking into the locker room.

I tried my best but couldn’t get many of them to film TikTok’s. After shooting a couple and forcing my brother to film some I had enough to pick through and post. Then it was time to make the one with sway.

He glided out onto the ice to where I was setting up the tripod with my phone.

“Are you ready?” He asked me.

“As ready as I’ll ever be. Ok stand Infront of the camera so I’m able to jump on your back.” I say to him, but he just smiles at me.

“Oh, you misunderstood. I’m going to be jumping on your back.” Swayman said with a chuckle.

“But you’re in full gear,” I said, shocked.

“You got this come on!” He said.

“We can try but if I fall it’s all your fault.”

I scrolled to the sound on my tiktok and put the timer on 10 seconds. I ran back over to stand in front of Jer.

“Alright tendy lets try it. You have 5 seconds to get ready.” I said preparing myself for failure.

He readied himself for the jump and the sound started playing.

You need a hug.

Sway jumped on my back and the second he landed my knees buckled and we fell over, him landing on top of me.

He stood back up immediately.

“Again! Come on we gotta get this.” He said, reaching down his hand, offering to help me up.

_________________________

It took us a couple tries, each of those tries ending in him landing on top of me. But we eventually got one that we were able to post.

We heard laughing echo through the arena. I turned around to see Coyle, Pasta, and my brother pointing and chuckling. As we walked off the ice, they came over to us.

“Guys that was so stupid.” Pasta said, still chuckling.

“It was sways idea. And you didn’t want to be in any TikTok’s so I had to take what I could get.” I responded.

“It doesn’t help that you can hardly stand on the ice without Sway on your back.” My brother said.

“Shut up, its slippery.” I said, laughing.

“If you wore skates out there, you’d do better, those converse have no traction.” Coyle said.

“She can’t skate.” My brother responded before I could.

“What?!” Coyle, Sway, and Pasta asked in unison.

“Your brother is in the NHL and you’ve never learned how to skate??” Sway asked.

“It was never my thing guys, too late to learn now.” I said, giggling at their shock.

_________________________

I packed up my things when the boys went to the locker room and headed home. Around 8 that night I got a text from Jer.

Be ready in 20.

[distinctlywhumpthing]

This Time

(Unintentional 30)

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CW: BBU-adjacent (institutionalized slavery), brief references to past-beating, fear of noncon drugging. It's the boys' first time out in public together, we're being gentle, this is practically all fluff. Beta-read by @alittlewhump <3

When it’s seven o’clock and not a minute sooner, Leo says, “I’d feel better if you came with me.” He almost adds ‘this time’ and wonders if Aiden is also remembering the last time Leo left him alone while he ran into a store. 

Aiden’s eyes widen. “I…mmm…I…” He timidly raises a hand to the base of his throat, gaze falling as he does it. 

Leo tries not to read shame into his uncertainty. He clears his throat, wanting to sound as casual as possible. “I know. I looked it up and the law says you just need some form of identification on you. It doesn’t have to be…uh…” Nope, he can’t say it out loud. “But that’s really more if you’re on your own. If you’re accompanied…” 

He will also not be repeating the stipulation that in the absence of ‘wearable restraints’, anyone with a ‘plausible reason or concern’ may request that Leo ‘subdue’ Aiden or they are within their rights to do so themselves ‘by any means necessary’. Which unfortunately “explains” the bastards who tore him from the van that first night.

Leo runs a hand over his hair. “We’ll be in and out in five minutes, it’ll be fine.” 

Halfway to the door, Aiden loses his footing. Leo’s ready though, catching him with an arm threaded under his shoulders. 

“Mmm’sorry…” Aiden clutches Leo’s sleeve with his uninjured hand, leaning into him to steady himself. He doesn’t let go once he’s standing so Leo keeps an arm around him.

“No worries. It’s icy as hell and Converse aren’t exactly known for their traction.” They’re also not very warm so Leo ushers the wobbly kid on, making sure to steer him where there’s road salt or dry patches.

 They pause outside the door so he can pull Aiden’s hood off and make sure the scars on the back of his neck are covered by its fabric. “Hands out, right?” he reminds. Aiden nods. 

The last thing they need is some racist assistant manager on a power trip insisting on frisking him. Just the thought has Leo rethinking this whole stop. He’d never be able to stand aside and let that happen. The poor kid has already seen the worst at the hands of strangers; there’s no telling what reaction yet another pair might set off. Leo might be able to spare him the experience by outing him as a Companion but that isn’t exactly risk-free either. Leo doesn’t think he’d be able to make a passable demonstration of the “justice” he’d rain down later on his sticky-fingered Companion and even if he could, he’s pretty sure Aiden wouldn’t be play-acting terrified. After what he already had to put the kid through tonight, he doesn’t want to risk anything else testing the fragile trust between them. 

Aiden shifts from one foot to the other. Leo’s hesitance is making him even more nervous. The parking lot is still empty and Delia’s car has real locks and an alarm he’d hear from inside. Maybe there’s no need to take any risk—

“What-what…if…mmm’I…mmm…” Aiden looks over his shoulder to where he just slipped, furrowing his brow. 

There’s no way Leo can bring him back to the car now, not without confirming that he doesn’t trust him to manage his own two feet either. Sure, he’s not very stable on ice but it’s been weeks since he tripped in the house. Regardless, it’s one hypothetical Leo would happily handle.  

“You’ll be fine, you can do this.” 

Aiden drops his gaze. Leo can’t tell if it’s because he’s shy about the encouragement or if he thinks it’s just empty words. 

“I’ve got your back, kiddo,” he says, straightening Aiden’s beanie that doesn’t need straightening. “I’ll catch you if you trip again.” 

Aiden meets his eyes and only searches them for a second before nodding. 

Any remaining apprehension on Aiden’s part is eclipsed by a quiet overwhelm once they step through the door. His eyes widen and he looks even smaller surrounded by the full shelves, under fluorescent lights. He follows Leo closely, practically brushing against his side as though they’re jostling through a crowd and might get separated even though there’s no one else in sight. 

Leo steers his mind away from wondering too much about the last time Aiden was in a store. 

They walk along the even-brighter cosmetic aisle toward the prescription counter at the back. Aiden looks away from the little mirrors framed by bright red, pink, and coral lipsticks. His eyes trace the bottles on the other side instead, shampoos in colorful plastic, hairsprays in metallic spray cans, and gels in an array of containers all lined up in rows. He keeps his arms perfectly straight and pinned to his sides but his fingers twitch there. Like maybe he wants to touch something but he thinks he’s not allowed to. 

Leo pauses by the shower gel, earning a concerned if not startled stare from Aiden. “Easy, all good. Why don’t we pick one you like?” 

Aiden looks at him like he just suggested flying to Mars. 

Leo picks up the brightest red bottle, flips the cap open and sniffs. Nothing special, just a generic soap smell. He holds it out for Aiden who, slowly, eyes flicking up to Leo’s three times before he leans forward all the way, inhales too. 

“Anything?” 

He shrugs noncommittally, nervous now that Leo’s put him on the spot but Leo wants this to be light and fun, though that might be a leap. He goes for one that says ‘coconut-something island bliss’ in a yellow bottle. Smells nice enough. Aiden leans in a bit easier this time and, though barely discernible, wrinkles his nose. 

“I think not,” Leo offers. 

Aiden shakes his head. 

“Go on, pick another one.” 

He bites his lip and raises his good hand. Hesitates a few times as he scans the shelf before pausing in front of a teal bottle. His fingertips rub together absently as his gaze slides over to Leo, who gives him a reassuring nod. He carefully picks it up. Luckily, this one only needs to be pressed down to be opened and he gets it right away. He holds it out to Leo first—something floral this time—just shrugging once he smells it himself. 

But now he’s into it. 

Leo pulls a pink bottle off the shelf as Aiden chooses purple. Their arms cross in the air when they hold them out to each other and Aiden’s lips almost twitch into a smile. Leo wants to beam but he forces himself to play it cool. 

Aiden replaces his bottle and picks another red, ‘blood-orange orchid blossom’. It smells only of citrus because last time Leo checked, orchids don’t smell like anything so why even call it that except to fool people into paying more for something just because it sounds fancy?  

A black Axe bottle Leo is relieved Aiden also hates, Irish Spring, a classic Dove. Aiden only has trouble with one of the tops. Leo worries it’ll kill the moment but Aiden just passes it to him and finds another bottle. 

After a few more, Aiden goes back for the purple, or actually, ‘lavender fields in summer’, pulling it off the shelf again with about as much confidence as if he were playing Russian roulette. 

“Nice, good job.” 

Aiden huffs and tucks his chin against his chest, hiding a small smile that might just be relief but Leo hopes is something more. They feel different, this smile and the one in the car. Leo can’t put his finger on how they’re different but he finds himself willing to do just about anything to see one again. 

He has another internal debate about whether or not Aiden should be next to him at the prescription counter. In the end, he decides it can only help his case later if a neutral third party explains the medications to them both. 

The pharmacist is young and way too energetic for seven in the morning. Leo makes zero effort to match the vibe. He slides his license across the counter. “Hi, I’m here to pick up some prescriptions, please. Marshall.” 

“Marshall, Marshall, Marshall,” she repeats as she searches the system. “Leo?” she asks like it’s not on the license she’s holding. 

“Yep.” She passes it back and disappears behind the shelves. 

Aiden’s still as stone beside him. Leo smiles reassuringly but it’s no match for the basket of prescription bottles the pharmacist returns with. He should have read Noah’s notes to know exactly what they were getting into. 

A two-week course of—thankfully—liquid amoxicillin. High-dose naproxen for pain as needed. A refill of his paroxetine thanks to Delia. She’s good. He definitely would have skipped it to reduce the sheer volume of pills he would be picking up with Aiden. At least the pharmacist skips the instructions because she can see it’s a refill of a medication he’s been taking for years. 

The last is the worst. Alprazolam with an over-the-top warning that it “causes extreme drowsiness” and “do not operate heavy machinery”. Finally, the real nail in the coffin: “it’s a potent tranquilizer.” Five doses, no refills. He definitely should have read Noah’s notes first. 

Leo rushes to end the exchange and move on to damage control. He grabs a basket from the stack, sweeps the medications in, and resists the urge to rush Aiden out of the whole damn store. He walks them to the far right, along the cold cases of sodas and drinks and freezers filled with ice cream, bags of ice, and a smattering of frozen dinners, mostly for one. The opposite side of the aisle is lined with chips but Aiden’s eyes are glued to the pile of white paper bags in the red plastic basket. 

Christ, where to start? 

“Aiden, can you look at me?” He does, of course. Eyes shining and full of betrayal. “Hon, I know you heard some things back there—” 

“...good…” 

“What?” 

Aiden swallows, wets his lips. He’s clutching the bottle of body wash like it’s keeping him upright. “I-I-I’ll…be…mmm…good.” His eyes flick to the basket and back to Leo’s, pleading. 

“Of course you will. You are good. You’re always good, I know that.” 

No dice. Leo’s reassurances mean nothing, not with what he’s holding. He drops the basket behind him, an arm’s length away. The gesture is met with open suspicion. 

“Hon, the only thing in there that you have to take are the antibiotics. To fight off the infection in your hand. The liquid one Delia talked about, right?” 

He nods once but his eyes narrow. He’s waiting for the other shoe to drop.

“Delia and Noah only wrote the other prescriptions to give you options. The pain killers, the anxiety pills, they’re only if you want them.” 

Aiden’s expression crumples and he shakes his head. Distressed by the suggestion that he would ever choose to take anything? Or can he only see the whole thing as a trick, a mockery of his agency or lack thereof? 

Leo’s heart aches for him. There’s nothing he can say that will erase all of that history or make it any easier to carry. “Okay, okay. I know this is overwhelming but I wanted you to hear it for yourself. I mean, from someone other than me. That way when you… If you… You can decide…” Aiden looks at him miserably, eyes still burning with betrayal. Leo’s only digging himself deeper. “One of the prescriptions is for me anyway,” he flounders. “Let’s just—” He reaches for Aiden’s shoulder but he steps back, out of reach. 

For a moment they just stare at each other. 

Aiden takes another step back and his eyes widen, surprised to find himself where he’s just stepped. Surprised Leo hasn’t grabbed him yet. His gaze slides from Leo’s face to a point over his shoulder and Leo’s heart sinks. 

The door? Would he run? Aiden takes a step forward, eyes still locked over Leo’s shoulder. 

“Wait—” Leo can’t handle the thought of losing this kid for the third time tonight. His eyes film over with tears. “Ple—”

Instead of walking around him, Aiden steps right into his arms. 

And then the sound hits his ears and Leo turns, shuffling Aiden behind his back for the shelter he was seeking. He wasn’t trying to run, he heard people coming in. He leans into Leo’s back, free hand gripping a fistful of Leo’s jacket so tightly Leo can feel how hard he’s shaking. They don’t have much of a height difference but he’s ducked his head to try to hide better, Leo can feel his cheek against his shoulder blade. 

It’s no wonder why—though Leo is impressed by his hearing—the guys are similar enough to the group that beat the shit out of him that first day. They laugh and banter their way to the first case in the aisle like this is just one stop in a fun night that’s still going. They pull out a six-pack of Red Bull and head to the registers without so much as a glance Leo’s way. 

He doesn’t move until Aiden does and Aiden waits until they’ve picked out a scratch-off and multiple vape flavors, joking with the cashier. Leo doesn’t bother keeping the judgment off his face with Aiden tucked behind his back. They stay, frozen like that until the pair amble out of the store. 

Aiden straightens, releasing Leo’s coat as soon as the first set of automatic doors slides shut. Leo turns to find him staring ahead unseeing, bottle in one hand and the other still closed into a tight fist. 

“Hey, it’s okay.” Leo keeps his voice a whisper, all too aware they’re still in public. “It’s all right, they’re gone.” 

Aiden nods but only reflexively. He squeezes his eyes shut once, twice, blinking away more tears each time he opens them. His fist trembles between them, arm still locked where it was holding Leo’s coat. 

Leo’s nervous to touch the poor kid considering the mental whiplash he must have—thinking Leo might drug him against his will only to be forced to depend on him for some semblance of safety—but if Aiden’s clenching his fist as tight as it looks, he’s putting too much strain on his stitches. 

“Can I give you a hand?” Leo holds his out, palm up. 

A few days ago, he’d spent a whole bathroom re-tile brainstorming a phrase to use during these moments when he didn’t know where to begin. Something neutral, not explicitly offering help but still open-ended enough that Aiden might get what he needed.  

Without even looking, Aiden drops his hand into Leo’s, uncurling his shaking fingers to grip him tightly. Leo’s momentarily dumbstruck that it worked. Has to be a fluke. 

“You’re doing great. We’re almost done.” He wraps his other arm around Aiden who shudders, finally exhaling. Leo wishes he could just hold him properly, until he stopped shaking, until he felt safe, no matter how long it took. “I just need to grab a few more things and then we’re outta here.” He gives Aiden one last squeeze before releasing him. 

The list from Noah is actually in his sister’s handwriting, first the prescriptions with more specific instructions and then a bunch of other things. Before he attaches himself to that fucking depository of pills again, he grabs a bag of pretzels and another of popcorn off the shelf to add to the basket. It’s an obvious move but at least now the prescription bags aren’t staring at them.

“Sterile gauze and bandages,” he tells Aiden, who nods stiffly, falling in to shadow him as he weaves through the store. He could move faster but he can’t risk anything else going wrong just now. 

Aiden doesn’t react to anything else Leo adds to the basket. As much as Leo wants to involve him, give him some choice or context, he can see the kid is dead on his feet. He is too, has been all night. 

Clothing basics happen to be at the end of the last aisle on their way to the registers. Leo wonders how bad is it to get some for Aiden now. Probably not as bad as it was to let him go this long constantly borrowing Leo’s. A pack of t-shirts, a pack of boxers, a pack of socks. Black for sure to avoid his tendency to flat-out panic about stains. Evidently, even this strip mall CVS is influenced by the pretentiousness of the surrounding area: there’s a choice of organic cotton that costs about forty percent more. Leo wonders if that means he can permit himself to feel forty percent less shitty for not getting Aiden even one thing to call his own sooner. 

He’s not sure what to expect when they get to the register. The woman in her mid-forties has hoops in her ears and acrylic French tips tapping on the side of her lime green phone case. She unabashedly continues scrolling, even after Leo says hello until he finishes unloading the basket. 

“Morning,” she says offhandedly as she starts scanning and bagging. 

When Leo leans away stack away the empty basket, Aiden steps forward to soundlessly place the bottle of body wash on the counter. 

“And good morning to you too, darlin’,” the cashier says, winking theatrically. 

Leo is about to step in front of him, make some remark about the weather to pull focus, but Aiden flashes her a smile that is as dazzling as it is vacant. Leo finds it unsettling but the cashier laughs, joking about how Aiden should look her up when he’s ten years older. Leo forces a chuckle as he pays, shoving the receipt in his coat and telling her to have a nice day while he grabs the bags off the counter. 

She returns the pleasantries and waves at Aiden. Leo’s jaw almost hits the floor when Aiden wiggles his fingers back as they walk away. 

Outside, Leo shifts all the bags to one side, turning to offer Aiden his other arm. 

He holds on right away, glancing around nervously like he's a deer about to step into an open field. He can’t seem to decide if he should watch his footing or surroundings. The street lights cast harsh angles on his face, hollowing his cheeks and throat, deepening the weariness under his eyes. 

Night and day from the mask of a smile he’d pulled on inside and haunting in an entirely different way. Leo is struck again by how little he knows about Aiden, how much he may never know, and the fact that if he’s going to do right by him, he’ll have to be ready for it all.

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@octopus-reactivated @maracujatangerine @nicolepascaline @whumpy-writings @cracked-porcelain-princess

@meetmeinhellcroutons @briars7 @thingsthatgo-whump-inthenight @jo-doe-seeking-inspo @neuro-whump

@painsandconfusion @wolfeyedwitch @skyhawkwolf @haro-whumps @onlybadendings

@peachy-panic @fillthedarkvoid @rabass @crystalquartzwhump @dont-touch-my-soup

@mylifeisonthebookshelf @hold-him-down @guachipongo @creetchure @leyswhumpdump

@aseasonwithclarasblog @catawhumpus @magziemakeswhatever @espresso-depresso-system @pigeonwhumps 

@batfacedliar-yetagain @whumpinthepot @dustypinetree @whump-in-progress @pirefyrelight

[atherflame-theconcubus]

Important announcement in the undercut. This is a long..

OK, so a lot has been going on so I’m just gonna say this now. Between the false harassment document, a document from a year ago that’s now just getting traction again, and then an anonymous person seemingly spreading it around from malicious intention. The community genuinely sucks.

Sucks considering I literally just came up with two different alternate universes yesterday that I do not plan on keeping (if anyone wants them, I can give you some rundowns on them)

I’m not abandoning my friends from the community, and I will keep interacting with them with the AU that I’ve already gotten built up upon a lot, and I will hopefully at some point talk about the other AUs for the community I have already listed on my pinned post, and possibly write for some of them over on my A03 account, but I will not be making any more, nor do I want to interact with this community anymore.

As someone who was formally in the buddies community (for a brief rundown on that community, a group of a bunch of children, deciding to get together to make death threat videos to another child who happened to be making troll animal abuse videos that got way out of hand and has a lot of genuinely problematic stuff, including philia, porn, incest, porn, and Loli art. All of which I have unfortunately seen, and become desensitized to) I never thought I would say this, but this community is worse than that one. Because even with how toxic they all are, that community is mostly children. Heck the biggest person in the community/founder of it is possibly 12 right now.

I would sooner go back to that community and apologize to people who accused me of harassment then ever wish to have a positive thought about the sun and moon show community. The community really is that bad.

And I stress this a lot because most of the people perpetuating the harassment in the bud community are children, who most likely don’t know any better. All the people perpetuating the harassment in this community are adults. And people are labeled as harassers, just standing with victims of horrible people.

All in all. This community somehow managed to take the crown for the most toxic community I’ve ever been in. And that is a lot consistently that this community would not be worse than the hate community.

And the biggest reason I say that is because despite me leaving the community and barely interacting with any of it which actually has decent content and is giving us a story with all the characters buds has, I can still make alternate universes and have fun while doing it there. If I make an alternate universe here I have to fear the big blog or other people trying to pressure me into including incest in it.

All in all. I’m saying this, but I hate this community more than the buds hate community. And I can consistently compare it to a cult.

If anyone is getting into this community from the Gacha community, I have recommendations on blogs you should avoid as they will willingly harass you for just trying to stand by people who are sent inappropriate artwork for just liking family dynamics

Dana-the-control-brain

Cephalon ghost

Witchy

Alexandraisyes

Ayyy-imma-ninja (mainly because she’s been standing by and letting people be harassed by her friends for just standing up for victims of harassment from people sending them Gore and corrective rape porn )

Pixelchills (I still genuinely do not want to believe that they actually participated in that fucking document, especially after I tried to clear a situation and keeping them from getting dragged in. I genuinely can’t look at their content the same anymore )

Shattered-sparks (they are someone who I trust, however, I currently now have conflicted feelings because of a document recently shared. I have yet to read it and I would like to trust my friend saying that since the document shattered has improved, however, I’m aware of the fact that everyone would be comfortable with them.)

A-Voice-For-The-Victims (I understand what they’re trying to do, but the way they’re going about it, at least from how I can see it, is only hurting everyone. They’re dragging something that should’ve been dead a long time ago on for longer than it should be because a random anon purposely dug up a year old document, and from what they said, they’re gonna continue to be a stalker. I get what they’re trying to do, but they’re just going about it in the worst way possible) (extra edition here, they just pulled a manipulation tactic. That is another reason why I do not feel safe with them in tsams community.)

My overall experience in this community was fun in the beginning because I got dragged into it by good people, then in the midpoint, I got scared about shipping my comfort ship because of the aforementioned family dynamics in the show, But a bunch of big users in the community have managed to make me hate a community for a show I already disliked.

I also want to skate this right now before I end the post.

DO NOT HARASS ANYONE I MENTIONED. IF YOU DON’T LIKE THEM JUST BLOCK AND GO ABOUT YOUR DAY.

Extra little addition due to something that happened that I’m gonna keep mostly private, the only people outside my friend group that I am interacting with in the sun and moon show community are the role-play blogs, as generally speaking I am 90% sure they are safe people interact with, plus it’s just fun seeing the chaos that goes down over there.. what has been stated above still applies.

[vanfleeter]

Black Smoke: Chapter 5 - L'amour en France Part 1

Characters: Jake Kiszka x Fem!Reader Warnings: 18+, minors DNI. Angst. Fluff. Language. Dirty talk? Smut. Allusions to public sex. Mentions of sex toys, vaccines. Fingering (fem!receiving). Oral sex (fem!receiving). Penetrative, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it). Mirror kink. If I missed anything, please let me know so I add it! Author's Note: Bare with me, I don't know if I translated languages correctly. And apologies for any grammar mistakes, I tried to catch them all.

Black Smoke Masterlist

‘I’ll be home at seven. Wear the red dress again.’

And so you do. You swore not to look at the time because he always makes it home on time. You sit there on the third to last step on the staircase, waiting for him to walk through the front door. A pair of headlights shine in through the window and you perk up slightly only for your hopes to get crushed when they turn and disappear from your view. Sighing, you give in and pull out your phone. The screen lights up and the time stares at you in bold, white numbers.

7:45pm.

He really is late.

Not a single call. Not even a text.

The time soon ticks to eight o’clock and he still hasn’t shown up. Dropping your purse on the hall table, you slip out of your heels and make the trek back upstairs to the bedroom. This isn’t the first time that he’s been late. Ever since the opening of his gallery, he’s gained a lot of traction with his business. Shoots booked nearly every day, he’s been spending a lot of time either at the studio or the gallery space editing photos and meeting with clients. You’d give him grace if he were thirty minutes late but a full hour?

Slipping out of the dress, you put it back on the hanger and into the closet before sitting down at the vanity and taking off your makeup. Your mind couldn’t help wondering back to Jake. Where is he? Is he okay? Then the worry sets in and you find yourself grabbing your phone and calling his cell. Straight to voicemail. Odd.

You can hear the door opening downstairs followed by his footsteps running up the stairs. You sit on the edge of the bed with your legs crossed in front of you and your arms crossed over your chest. He appears in the doorway and stops. “I’m so sorry..” He starts apologizing to you as he walks the length of space between the door and the bed. “I swear I left early so I could make it back here in time and you know me not to use excuses but my phone died and I didn’t have my charger and I got stuck in traffic and–” He sighs, his shoulder dropping. “I’m sorry..”

You shrug your shoulders and stand up from the bed. “Okay..” You walk over to your side of the bed and pull the sheets down.

“Okay?” He steps up to the bed and leans over with his fists pressing into the mattress. “You’re not going to yell? Get mad?”

“Why would I get mad?” You ask as you climb into the bed. “I mean.. It’s not the first time you’ve been late for our plans.. Disappointed? Sure. Mad? Nope.”

“Let me make it up to you.”

“Jake..”

“Please let me make it up to you.” He says as he crawls onto the bed. On his hands and knees, he makes his way up the bed and gently rests his body on top of you. “I’ve missed you.” He kisses you as he squeezes your body within his arms. “And I really wanted to take you out tonight, I had such big plans.”

“Let me guess, a photoshoot in the middle of the street?”

He chuckles. “That is not a bad idea actually, but no.. I was going to take you out to dinner at this pretty awesome restaurant and then bring you home to shower you with love..”

“Hmm, as if you don’t already.”

“And then I’d present you with these..” He pushes himself up onto his knees and leans backwards. He unbuttons his suit jacket and reaches into the inside pocket and produces a paper envelope. He hands it to you and stays on his knees while he watches you open it. His eyes sparkle as he watches you look at the contents inside.

“No..” You say, shaking your head.

“Yes.”

“Jake..”

“It’s France.”

“It’s your job.”

“Only for a few days and then the rest of the two week trip is all ours.” He says. He hovers back over top of you and gives you a gentle kiss. “It won’t be as hot and steamy like Africa but..” He presses his lips to the backside of your ear and nibbles on your lobe. “Imagine having sex in a French vineyard.”

“Isn’t public indecency illegal like…I don’t know…Everywhere?”

He chuckles and pulls his face away, but still close enough that your noses can still touch. “Not if it’s a private vineyard.” He says. “This shoot is going to take place at a private vineyard owned by the client.”

“Who exactly is your client?” You ask.

“A big shot business man from New York who’s going through a midlife crisis and wants to have a vineyard,” Jake laughs. “His words, not mine. The shoot fills Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday–but he leaves right after the shoot on Wednesday and is leaving us the property for the rest of our trip.”

“But.. Why?”

“Because I want to treat you to a well deserved vacation, plus I want to make up for all of the lost time. I haven’t been around much as of late and I thought this would be perfect for the both of us, so he agreed to let us stay there for a romantic getaway–and besides, to have you out in the middle of a vineyard? I’d be in heaven.”

You giggle and brush the ringlets of his wavy hair from his forehead. “Do we have to wait until France?”

“You think I can wait?” He presses his lips against yours and slowly but roughly grinds his hardened cock against your center. “I want you now..”

Releasing your hold on him, you lay out your arms on either side of you on the bed. “Then have me..”

–

The flight to Paris was daunting but at least you had Jake beside you. By the time you made it to Paris, it was already the middle of the afternoon and Jake’s gently shaking you awake. “We’re here.” He whispers in your ear. “Come on, I think he sent us a driver.” And sure enough, the client did send a driver to retrieve the two of you from the airport. Jake chuckles at the sight of your eyes growing wide as the driver brings the two of you to a limo.

“Inside is stocked with the beverage you had requested,” The driver says. “Mr. Beaumont made sure of it himself–he wants everything to be to your liking.” He takes yours and Jake’s bags and brings them to the trunk.

Jake reaches for the door handle and yanks the door open. He graciously bends over in a polite bow as he motions his hand towards the opening of the limo. Giggling at his silliness, you kindly thank him and slide into the limo. Jake slides in after you and shuts the door. As the driver climbs into the front, Jake clears his throat.

“Do you mind if we..” He motions to the open window.

“Not at all, sir.” The driver says.

As the divider rises and clicks into place, Jake pulls you onto his lap and kisses you. “Thank you for coming with me.” He says. “I fear this trip would have been rather tres beau with you.”

“Working on our French, are we?”

“I heard they don’t like us speaking it, so let’s just keep it between us.”

“You sound sexy when you speak French.”

“Well it is the romance language.”

“Actually,” You say, placing your index on his lips. “It’s Spanish.” You adjust your position on his lap so that you’re straddling him with each leg on both sides. “Hazme el amor, Jacob.” His jaw falls slack and you can feel him growing hard beneath you. “Or..” You lean in close to his ear and whisper, “Fais-moi l’amour..”

He chews on his bottom lip and allows his head to drop backwards against the plush leather of the seats. “At the villa, I promise..” He pulls you in for a kiss when soon turns feverish as he pushes his tongue inside of your mouth. But just because he promised to make love to you at the villa, doesn’t mean he won’t have a little bit of fun with you at this moment. Sliding his right hand away from your ass, he moves it to rest between your two bodies and circles your clit over the fabric of your underwear. He silences your moan with another kiss.

The ride to villa seemed rather short when compared to the defiling the two of you did in the back of the limo. He had you in the palm of his hand, both literally and figuratively, the whole ride there. Constantly edging you, and teasing you, all the while whispering dirty things into your ear and finally letting you cum as he keeps your mouth covered, muffling your cries.

A knock comes on the divider as the driver announces your arrival to the villa. Removing yourself from Jake’s lap, you fix your dress and your hair as he straightens out his clothes. Jake pops the door open and climbs out and holds his hand out for you.

“Bonjour!” A male’s voice calls from the top of the brick stairwell. He’s dressed in a white linen top, a few buttons undone, accompanied by a pair of matching white linen pants and sandalwood colored loafers. His bushy, white hair covers his head while the same white hairs fill out on his face in a mustache and goatee. “Welcome to my lovely vineyard!” He jogs down the steps and across the lushish, green grass until he’s standing just a few feet away from the both of you. “Jacob,” He laughs with outstretched arms. “So wonderful to see you again, I can assure you that you and your beautiful wife here will have a wonderful stay here.” The two of them hug, sharing a few laughs before pulling apart.

“Mr. Beaumont, I would love for you to meet my beautiful girlfriend, Y/N.” Jake says as he introduces you to his client.

“Ohh, girlfriend.” Mr. Beaumont chuckles. “The two of you just seem so in love, I thought the knot had already been tied, my apologies.”

You give him a gracious smile and a nod of your head. “It’s alright, Mr. Beaumont–although wife does have a nice ring to it.” You say, looking up at Jake and winking. He chuckles and intertwines his hand with yours.

“Well, come come! Let me show you around the property and let the two of you get settled into your room.”

–

You weren’t sure which part of the whole place you loved more. The lengthy rows of vines with ready to harvest grapes, the giant wine cellar that houses barrels and barrels of aging wine, or the room that was designated to the two of you. Jake couldn’t help but whisper to you in the echoey hallway of all the things he plans to do to you once you're both behind closed doors.

“I do hope this room is up to your liking.” Mr. Beaumont says as he leans against the doorframe. “I call it the Lover’s Suit.”

Both you and Jake look at each other and a growing smirk appears on his face.

“Well, make yourselves at home. Catch some sleep if you’d like to. Dinner will be ready at seven, but I’ll be sure to send someone up to wake you should you fall asleep.”

“Thank you so much, Mr. Beaumont.” Jake says as they shake hands.

“Jacob, please call me Charles. Mr. Beaumont is my father–a wise man I’ll admit–but not quite the man I want to be.”

Jake chuckles. “Of course, Charles. We’ll see you downstairs for dinner.”

Once Charles is gone from the room, Jake locks the door and starts to unbutton his shirt the rest of the way before pulling it out of his pants and slipping it off of his arms. He walks over towards you and pulls you to him. “You heard him. Let us make ourselves at home, shall we?”

Once fully undressed, he lays you on the bed and presses his body right up against yours, his cock rubbing deliciously over your folds. Resting your legs on his hips, he adjusts himself between you before pushing his cock inside of you. He stays put for a little while, allowing you to adjust around him. Once you have, he slowly begins to move his hips, pulling himself out before pushing back in until there’s a steady rhythm. He doesn’t try to silence you, wanting to hear you voice out loud just how good he makes you feel.

Turning your head to the side, you catch a glimpse of the two of you in the mirror that rests on top of the vanity table on the other side of the room. You loved to watch how fluid his body moved, how his muscles tightened and loosened with each movement. You could see the round curvature of his ass and you bit your lip before turning your head back to look at him. He wore a smirk on his face.

“We look exquisite, don’t we?” He says through labored breaths.

You can feel the familiar warm feeling start to grow within you as your walls fluttered around his cock. He hums with a smile and pushes in a little deeper with a singular roll of his hips sending you both over the edge and into the fiery pits of your orgasms.

He rests his head on your chest as he brings himself down from his high. You can feel his heart racing in his chest. No doubt that he probably feels yours too.

Pulling out, he lays on the bed beside you and draws you in near to him. “How much do you want to bet that they probably heard us?” He says.

“I don’t want to know if they did..”

He chuckles and runs his hand down your spine and back up again.

It didn't take long though for you to fall asleep from the way he soothingly rubs your back and the now calm rhythm of his heart beat. And when you awoke again, it was because of him kissing you as he brushed your hair behind your ear. You groan and turn over onto your back.

“Time to get up.. Dinner will be ready soon.”

Dragging yourself out of bed, you stagger over to your suitcase but Jake clears his throat. “In the closet..” He says as he rolls up the sleeves of his shirt. “One of the maids came in not too long ago and hung everything up. She even took your dress to be steamed.”

“Oh.. That was nice..” You reach for your dress and pull it out. “Give me ten minutes and I’ll be ready.”

–

“If you don’t mind me prying,” Charles takes a sip of his wine before clearing his throat. “How long have the two of you been together?”

“Not very long,” Jake responds. “Like six months?”

“Oh really?” Charles says, his eyebrows rising in interest. “You act like you’ve been together for a long time.”

“Guess we just fit together well..” Jake smiles at you from across the table.

“How did you two meet?”

“A photoshoot for a mutual friend. We got to know each other pretty well that day..” He reaches for his wine and takes a sip, but not before giving you a smirk. A light blush paints your cheeks making him chuckle. “I was enamored by her the second I laid eyes on her. She’s my muse..”

Charles smiles and leans back in his chair. “My wife, she’s the love of my life. We met through a mutual friend as well at a party thrown for the Senator’s birthday.”

A young maid steps into the room and walks up to Charles before whispering a few things into his ear. He hums in agreement and nods his head.

“If you’ll kindly excuse me, I have some things to tend to. In case I do not see you the rest of the night, I will see you tomorrow.”

With leaving the two of you alone in the dining room, it becomes awfully quiet, save for the clinking of your silverware as you cut another piece of steak. You can feel his eyes on you, watching your every movement. When you finally do look at him, he has a wicked grin plastered on his face.

“Dare I ask why you’re looking at me like that?” You say as you set your fork down on your plate.

He clears his throat and grabs the cloth napkin to wipe his mouth before setting it back down on the table. He glances at the butler that stands off to the side of the room before looking back at you.

“Come on, I have something to show you.”

He gets up from the table and meets you at the end of it. Interlocking your hands together, he pulls you from the dining room and down the long hall towards the back of the villa.

“I found this when I went exploring..”

“When did you go exploring?”

“While you were sleeping.”

You pretend to be offended that he would explore the property without you. Though your giggles say otherwise, a smile spreads across his face.

“Trust me, you’ll love it.”

He brings the two of you to a wall painted with purple and pink flowers and blue ones scattered in various spots. Running his hands along the detailed wall, he stops in one particular spot and presses his right hand inwards and pushes the wall forward. It opens like a door into a secret passageway that leads to a narrow staircase leading down.

“I don’t even think that Charles knows about this area,” Jake says as he swipes away the remaining cobwebs that he had missed on his first exploration through this area. The door closes behind the two of you, engulfing the passageway in darkness. Jake fishes around for his phone and turns on the flashlight. “Come on..”

“Jake, where are you taking me?”

“Just trust me, you’re going to love it.”

He continues down the passageway before coming to a stone door. Letting go of your hand, he leans against the door and pushes it open. The sound of the stone moving and scraping against the floor echoes through the empty chamber. You hear him fumbling around the room until a flame illuminates his face. He lights each torch in the room until the orange hues light up the room, making it easier for you to see what’s inside.

“Oh my god..”

“I think whoever owned this property–way before Charles–was a little kinky..” Jake chuckles.

Mirrors cover each inch of the walls around the room. A stone altar is placed in the middle of the room. Old, rusted looking devices are placed strategically along the surface of it. You shake your head and fold your arms over your chest.

“No way, am I allowing you to put any of those inside of me.” You say. Jake’s laughter bounces off of the walls and walks over to you. “It’s not funny.. Those things are covered in cobwebs and rust. Look, I know I'm up to date on my tetanus but that’s just gross.”

“I never said a word about using those.” Jake says as he walks up to you. “We don’t need those anyways.” He presses his front side to your back side and sways both of your bodies from side to side. “Although this isn’t exactly why I wanted to bring you down here.” He pulls away from you and takes his phone out of his pocket. “I forgot to grab my camera, so this will have to do.”

“Jake, I am not your client.”

“No, you are not,” He says, shaking his head. “You are my muse. There’s a difference. Now..” He reaches for your hand and guides you over to stand in front of the mirror. “The reflection tends to show us the truth,” He positions just the way he wants you, facing towards the mirror. “I want you to look into your own eyes and find what your truth is.”

He moves your head slightly closer to the mirror, so your nose is nearly touching the reflective glass. “Just like that.. Perfect..” Placing his phone up to the mirror, he angles it the way he wants it to look. You can hear the sound of the shutter on his phone as he captures the right photos that he wants.

After getting the ones he likes, he repositions so your back is facing the mirror and turns your head so you’re looking at him.

“You know, if you had a twin, I’d be screwed.” He says. “One of you is my weakness but two? I’d be dead.” A grin breaks out on your face and a giggle leaves your throat. “Candid shots of you are my favorite. Your smile is perfect.”

Pushing away from the wall, he puts his phone into his pocket and lowers himself in front of you. He moves your legs apart and bent your right knee. He pushes your dress up your right thigh. “Hold..” Standing back up and stepping away, he looks you over. Stepping back up to you, he reaches for the strap of your dress and pushes it down your shoulder and tilts your head backwards so it's resting against the mirror. He steps away once again, giving you another look over. “I love it..” Retrieving his phone again, he takes a few more photos.

But that’s all he can do before he’s stuffing his phone back into the pocket of his pants and pressing you into the mirror. He pulls your dress completely up your legs revealing your naked center. He slides his fingers through your folds and sinks them inside of you. A moan escapes your lips and your head falls against the mirror.

“Does that feel good?” He says as he slowly pumps his fingers in and out. No words can form, only another moan as he scrapes his fingers along your walls.

It’s only been a few hours since the two of you were connected and you find that you’re still sensitive which brings you closer to your orgasm.

“Jake.. I need to..”

“Do it..” He breathes into your ear. “Soak my hand..” He pumps his fingers a few more times and soon you’re releasing right into his palm. “So beautiful..” He kisses behind your ear and works you through your orgasm. The feeling of his lips against your skin and the movements of your fingers has you teetering on the edge of another one but before your second one even comes close, he’s withdrawing his fingers and licking his hand clean.

Taking you away from the mirror, he brings you over to the stone altar and bends you forward, over to the side. Reaching for your head, he turns it to the side so you can see yourself in the mirror, completely submitted to his will. Through the mirror, you can see him drop his pants and stroke his length a few times before lifting your dress back over your hips and lining himself up with your entrance.

Slowly he pushes into you, both of you moaning as he fits himself perfectly inside. His hands find their rightful place on either one of your hips and he holds firm as he begins moving his hips.

“I totally brought you down here to fuck, after catching you watching us through the mirror of the vanity.” He snaps his hips roughly against your ass, plunging himself deeper inside of you, eliciting a small yelp from you. “I will admit though, it does look pretty hot watching us fuck..”

You’re growing increasingly closer to your second orgasm again. Your walls tighten around his cock as he fucks even deeper inside of you. He slides his right hand from your hip, around to your front side and rubs his middle finger against your clit. His teeth sink into his bottom lip as he watches your eyes roll back into your head and a high pitched moan fall from you.

“Come on baby, I know you need to.. I need to…” Jake’s breathing becomes labored until he falters. His hips grow stiff and his length inside twitches. “Come on..” He thrusts a few times before he’s finally spilling his warm seed inside of you just in time for you to release your own. He falls against your back, his warm breath cascading across your neck. “That was amazing..”

Not long after, he pulls himself free of you and straightens back up and pulls you with him. He tilts your head and draws you in for a kiss before turning you around and holding you close. “These next three days are going to be absolute torture..”

You hum and trace his bottom lip with your index finger. “Don’t forget, you get me at night..” You say before kissing him again. “Shall we go back to the room? I don’t know about you, but now I’m exhausted..”

Jake chuckles and nods his head. “Yeah, let’s go back.” He intertwines your hands together, lacing his fingers through yours and the two of you exit the mirrored room and make your way back through the passage and to the main quarters of the villa.

__________________________________________________

tag list:

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[solarwynd]

I don't know if you have heard of the popstar academy docuseries on netflix but it's about the group katseye and how they debuted and stuff but anyways. their main goal is for them to find a global group that will essentially carry the company from now on like they want this group to be their next BTS but mostly focusing for success in the US. theres this girl there that was a trainee and she was very talented and had star quality but they weren't as interested in her because they felt she was not "the cool rebellious girl" US fans will love and that got me to think about jungkook and jimin. the tattoos, piercings, muscles, the pr smoking incident, him drinking on lives deleting his instagram vs jimin who only does lives at the company, doesn't even like to talk about alcohol in fans vicinity, timid, tries to keep a clean image, the goody two shoes (said lovingly)

now it makes sense to me as to why they push jk so hard especially in the US. he is much more marketable and what supposedly US fans want in male pop artists. they know that the rugged bad boy sells and jimin isn't that

Yea I did. I’ve been in eyekon business for a day or two now lol. I even started watching the show but I haven’t made it past the first episode. I’m really just privy to the Manon drama, but I have seen screenshots of Bang and his foolishness.

“Cool & rebellious” are interesting buzzwords. Two that I can’t exactly say aren’t popular because it sounds like aespa and blackpink. And kpop stans do love that. But what’s really popular right now is the newjeans aesthetic. Which is exactly what Touch was in “sound” and also why I’m confused on what they’re going for in the group’s image. It sounds like they don’t even know. The only thing for certain is that they wanted a multi ethnic group. I listened to their EP and it doesn’t seem like they’re gonna have a set sound and I don’t think that’s an issue. Their music is nice, most of the songs give real summery coming of age vibes. (I liked tonight I might, im pretty and my way) kinda wish they would’ve stuck with that throughout the album cause debut and touch seem like the odd ones out.

Back to the actual topic, Yes I think that cool and rebellious image has more of an advantage for a male popstar for obvious reasons. Jimin not fitting Hybe’s image has been discussed as a possibility as to one of the reasons he’s not getting pushed before but to actually see they confirmed what their ideal is let’s me know how shallow their vision of a true artist is. You’d think they see the results, hype and intrigue Jimin pulls just being him and see that ideal doesn’t hold that much weight as a standard but w/e ig lmao. JK didn’t even fit that stereotypical “bad boy” mold up until recently imo.

Anyway the way HYBE seems so intent on finding the next BTS and strictly speaking in business terms, I really do wonder how much longer BTS themselves are in this for cause to me, it seems like there’s a clock running and Katseye does not seem like the long term solution to me. I know it wouldn’t be smart to wait until BTS calls it quits to then try to build a new group, but they give new jeans. I believe that they’ll find success somewhere down the line, especially if HYBE starts pushing them. But might fizzle out after some time. Touch seems to be gaining some traction and they are building a fanbase. But if they want BTS level fame, it’s gonna have to be a devout one that actually moves for them and not one built of male gg stans that use them for a twitter layout and move out once they get bored. Fandom>>>GP

[no-phrogs-in-hats]

Can I request a gwendoline Christie X an actor reader where they secretly got together during the movie they're in together.

They're doing interviews for it and fans are shipping them both a ton because they honestly can't keep it in their pants and are super handsy/constantly flirting completely accidentally...for the most part.

Until one Gwen is on an insta live and the reader doesn't realise and comes up behind her and starts trying to make out because the reader is complaining that Gwen was always so busy and how they could help her "relax" ;) when ends up yelling she's on a live and the reader dies from embarrassment while Gwen dies of laughter?

A Best Friend Like Her

Gwendoline Christie x reader

Warnings: none

A/N: Hi anon! I hope you enjoy this! I tried to stick to the request as much as possible.

To you, accepting a role in Star Wars was the best decision you had ever made. You had never been happier, even if it was a smaller part. But what mattered was the outcome.

Now, you’re waking up in a shared bed in a modest London flat beside the most beautiful woman you had ever laid eyes on. Very few people had known–only close friends and family. There was suspicion from fans, tweets surfacing and gaining traction almost instantly with people agreeing that something seemed up.

‘Screenshot from #SDcomiccon of Y/N and Gwen on the #StarWars pannel…I just know something is up here.’

‘These BTS pictures of Gwen and Y/N are ADORABLE, there’s no way they’re just friends.’

There was even a Youtube video titled, ‘Every time Gwen and Y/N have flirted with each other but they’re “just friends.”’

“Morning,” you mumbled as you met the sleepy eyes of Gwen.

She pecked you on the lips before pulling you into a warm embrace. “Graham said we have to arrive about an hour before the show starts.”

There was something you loved so much about her raspy morning voice. “Do you think they’re interviewing only the two of us to capitalize off the rumors of our relationship?”

“Erm…” Gwen sighed heavily. “I never thought of it that way.”

“I mean, they’re certainly gonna get some views. We’ve been the hot topic on Twitter for a while,” you said.

“Let’s make a bet.”

You sat up, leaning on your elbow as you peered down at Gwen. “On what?”

“I bet you…ten pounds, that Graham will ask us about our relationship less than ten minutes in,” Gwen snickered.

You smiled back, amused. “Alright, fine. More than ten minutes in.”

__________

The pair of you sat in front of an audience of at least a hundred people. The bet you had made with Gwen was still lingering in your mind as you sat side by side, listening to Graham’s commentary on Star Wars and answering questions about the other roles you’re playing currently.

Game of Thrones was mentioned multiple times with Gwen and the tv show you starred in was mentioned too. 

“So,” Graham began, adjusting his position in his chair, “there have been some rumors.”

You and Gwen eyed each other.

“Twitter has been abuzz about you two,” he continued. “Some fans have been watching you two in interviews, red carpet events, and such. They’ve–and everyone else for that matter–have agreed that you’re both close.”

How the hell would you get yourself out of this? Well, the same way you did when other people asked.

“Well, I grew up without many friends,” you explained. “Throughout my life I’ve never had a close friend. And, Gwen is the only person I’ve become close to. I consider myself very lucky to have a…best friend like her.”

Best friend. Bullshit.

__________

“How long do we plan on keeping this a secret?” you asked on the drive home.

Gwen, in the driver seat, sighed. “I don’t know, darling…I’m…I’m ready, though, if you are.”

“I don’t know,” you huffed. “Every worst possible outcome is all I can think of. Losing roles, friends, the media backlash…”

“Sweetheart, it’s the media that’s stirring this up. Both of our parents know and our closest friends do too.” Gwen stayed focused on the road as her hand came to squeeze your knee. “I don’t think we’d lose any roles over this either. There are laws put in place for things like these.”

At your flat, you stood in the kitchen preparing dinner for the two of you. As you sauteed broccoli, Gwen was in the living room, typing away on her computer. You heard her speaking every now and then and assumed she was simply taking a phone call by the sound of her talking about scripts and shows and movies she’s been in. 

When dinner was ready, you plated the food, setting it on the kitchen table before going to find Gwen. She sat facing away from you as you tiptoed over, encasing her in a surprise hug. She flinched before growing stiff as you placed soft, chaste kisses over her neck.

“I’m so proud of you,” you smiled. “You did so well today, but you owe me ten pounds. Graham mentioned our relationship eleven minutes in, so I won.” She said nothing and you looked at her, confused. “What?”

Gwen peered up at you with an awkward grin and her eyes darted from you to the phone that leaned against the bright computer screen. “I’m on Live…”

Your stomach dropped and all the color drained from your face. “You–what?”

“I’m talking to a few hundred thousand people right now, sweetheart,” Gwen chuckled.

Your words were stuck in your throat and you managed to squeak them out, waving briefly at the phone where comments of ‘OMG’ and ‘NOW WAY’ were flooding the screen. “Erm…right…well…dinner is ready and on the table.”

You turned and rushed out of the room, embarrassment pooling in your cheeks and humiliation creeping up your throat. As she watched you leave, Gwen faced the phone, the brightest smile on her face since she first kissed you a year before.

[liquid-geodes]

Okay, I think I’ve got a writing prompt: Someone gives a birthday present to Blind Springtrap. What is it and how would he react?

Oh I have an idea that makes reader look STUPID

Fazbear's Fright had, miraculously, been open and operating for a whole year as of today. Somehow the building had avoided going up in flames, although the wiring and AC units were still considered hazardous. They were lucky you showed up for your night shifts and kept an eye on things, otherwise the building might have actually gone up in smoke, leaving its star attraction without a home.

Springtrap had gained a lot of popularity throughout the year, his life-like movements and predator-like mannerisms gave the thrill seekers who visited exactly what they wanted, and then some. And of course you knew Springtrap enjoyed the hunt as well, barring incidents where guests would move objects into his path that he just couldn't account for and trip him up. You always took great care in resetting the room after those visits, guiding Springtrap around the room so he could become acquainted with the items once more. No matter how hard you tried, it was impossible to set the furniture back in the exact place he was used to, so guiding him through was a perfect middle ground, one that he appreciated wholeheartedly.

A year was a long time for an attraction of this type to remain open, especially since they only gained traction in the months leading up to Halloween, but Springtrap alone managed to keep people coming back for more and attracted new patrons who wanted to see what all the hype was for. You got to know Springtrap well in the off time you had together. You had learned that he wasn't at all what the company made him out to be.

He was alive.

It had startled you at first sure, but it quickly gave way to sympathy. You couldn't imagine living life like that, always in pain, forced to pretend like you're an object that belongs to a company every single day. It sucked knowing he lived like that.

Eventually he opened up more about the suit as well, even describing what it had looked like in its heyday. He had described it so vividly; a golden rabbit with a purple bow tie and vest speckled with stars, bright green eyes and whiskers to tie it all together. He didn't much resemble that anymore, and it was hard even picturing him in such a state at all.

He had supplied you with the name of the diner the suit came from: Fredbear's Family Diner. A quick search online pulled up old photos of the suit, as well as the men who created it, although he said he never got to meet the owners in his time as an employee. Springtrap spoke fondly of the place though, all things considered, and even expressed how much he missed working there. Apparently he had been quite busy all the time with such limited staff, but he didn't mind it. He even spoke highly of the suit he was currently entombed in, how rare occasions operating it were some of his favorite days.

You didn't need to know he was lying about any of that though. You didn't need to know his real name and title when Dave Miller would suffice. Maybe one day he would come clean, once he trusted you a bit more, but for now it was best if you believed he was just an unlucky security guard.

Regardless of who he was, one thing had been made clear: he adored Spring Bonnie regardless of his fate. So, with the one year anniversary of Sprintrap's arrival to the attraction, a day you lovingly referred to as his "birthday", you set out on an almost impossible task:

You were going to track down a piece of that happy past as a gift.

Fredbear's Family Diner had apparently offered plush toys for a while before closing its doors for good. Golden bears and bunnies were sought after by collectors and fans alike, but somehow you had managed to get your hands on one, after paying a hefty price of course. But it was worth it, for him. Maybe a little piece of his past would bring him joy in a place he couldn't leave.

As you approached his room in the attraction you felt nervous. What if this was the wrong call? What if it actually upset him? Youd come too far and spent too much money on this gift to back out now, so whatever emotional turmoil this little plush rabbit brought would just have to be dealt with later.

Timidly, you knocked twice on the doorframe before entering, though he had already been alerted to your presence once you entered the hall. He knew your footsteps well by now, and often looked forward to hearing them.

"Hey buddy, you know what today is?"

Springtrap turns to face the direction he hears your voice coming from, glassy, silver eyes remaining unfocused in the darkness he sees. He anticipates your answer, though tilts his head in question to humor you.

"It's your birthday!"

A soft groan follows as he turns away from your soft laughter.

"To think it's been a whole year already... that's something worth celebrating! I uh, actually got you something, a gift. I hope you like it, although it's totally okay if you dont!" You ramble nervously, catching the attention of the animatronic as he slowly approaches your voice, his hand reaching out so he doesn't accidentally trample you.

"You didn't have to..." he replies hoarsly, his hand finally meeting your own and grabbing it gently.

"I know I didn't HAVE to, I just.. wanted to. You deserve it."

He tilts his head again but doesn't question your reasoning, and you squeeze his hand gently before flipping it over to access his open palm. You gently set the plush in his hand, guiding his other hand to its head. You bite your lip nervously as he feels around the plush: ears, eyes, hard plastic nose, bowtie... no tail? That was... odd. He had been certain this was a Bonnie plush, and even ran his hands back up to its ears to confirm this.

Then he felt around the eyes once more, much more attentively this time. Then he felt it.

Eyelashes, stitched carefully along the sides of the upper eyelid of the rabbit.

His own eyes widened slightly in realization.

"I know it's not much, but I figured it would be nice to-" You paused, slapping your hand to your forehead, slightly startling the rabbit animatronic in front of you, "Duh! You probably dont even know what you're holding right now!" You realize, chastising yourself mentally for being so forgetful.

"I remembered you said you had worked at Fredbear's, and you liked when you got to play the part of Spring Bonnie when the owners were too busy to do it. It took me a long time to track this thing down, but it was worth it! You are now the proud owner of a genuine Spring Bonnie plush!" Your nerves had slightly subsided as you explained the gift. Clearly you had been excited to give it to him.

His mouth opened, then shut, then repeated a few times, as if trying to find the right words. This was an incredibly thoughtful gift. And William wasn't stupid, he knew these things must be worth a fortune considering how old it was by now. How could you even afford that? Could you still afford to take care of yourself? Would you be able to eat and pay your bills, or-

"So... what do you think?"

Right. He had to say something before you thought he hated it.

"Thank you..." he rasped, "I never thought I'd hold one of these again in my lifetime..."

All at once your anxiety is replaced with overwhelming joy, a big, stupid grin plastering itself on your face. He continued to feel around the plush for a while longer while you idly chatted about the attraction, and how you hoped it had many more years ahead of it. Eventually you get called away for minor maintenance work, leaving Sprintrap alone with his present. It quickly becomes his most prized possession, and he stashes it away somewhere safe as opening time quickly closes in.

[51faces]

Silent Applause

Dreamcatcher's Lee Yubin (Dami) x Female reader

AN: And finally, our adorable panda queen! 🐼💖 Now that we've gone through everyone, I'll start revisiting some members with Part 2s if needed and If you have any requests, don’t be shy—I'd love to hear them!

The chirp of the birds and the laughter of families were the sounds between them. Dami sat across from Y/N on a worn-out bench, her fingers fidgeting with the hem of her sweatshirt. The tension was thick, a palpable weight in the room that neither seemed able to break.

Y/N had known something was coming—Dami had been distant for weeks now. Late-night practices, hushed phone calls with her manager, and that faraway look in her eyes. It wasn’t unusual for an idol, but this felt different. Something bigger was on the horizon.

Dami finally spoke, her voice barely above a whisper. "Minx... it’s over."

Y/N felt her heart skip a beat, a mix of confusion and dread building in her chest. She tried to meet Dami’s eyes, but Dami kept staring at the floor, as if the truth she was about to share was too heavy to face head-on.

"What do you mean?" Y/N’s voice was gentle, cautious, though she already knew the answer.

Dami took a deep breath, still not looking at her. "Minx disbanded. The company... they want to rebrand us, start over as a completely new group. Dreamcatcher."

Y/N’s heart sank. She had been with Dami through every high and low of her career. She remembered the sleepless nights when Minx struggled to gain any traction, and how Dami would come home, drained and disheartened but still determined. They had dreamed together, shared in the belief that one day, things would turn around.

Y/N swallowed hard, trying to stay strong. "But that’s a good thing, right? A fresh start?"

Dami finally looked up, her expression pained. “It is. It’s everything I’ve ever wanted, but... it also means I have to give it my all this time. I can’t afford any distractions. I can’t afford to... to split my focus.”

Y/N felt her stomach tighten as the meaning of Dami’s words sank in. "You’re calling me a distraction?"

Dami shook her head quickly, her voice breaking. "No, that’s not what I mean. You’re not a distraction, Y/N. You’re... you’re the most important person in my life. But that’s the problem. I keep thinking about you, worrying about us. And if I don’t give this rebranding everything I’ve got, I’ll lose this chance too."

There was a long pause, the silence heavy between them.

Y/N blinked away the tears that were threatening to fall. "So, what are you saying? You want to break up?"

Dami’s lips trembled, and she turned her gaze back to the floor, unable to face Y/N’s pain. "I don’t want to... but I think we have to."

Y/N’s world felt like it was crumbling. She wanted to scream, to tell Dami she was wrong, that they could make it work, that they’d always found a way before. But deep down, she knew Dami wasn’t saying this lightly. She was doing it because she believed it was the only way.

"So that’s it?" Y/N asked quietly, her voice barely steady. "You’re just... giving up on us?"

Dami’s eyes were glassy as she finally looked up. "I’m not giving up. I’m trying to save us. If I don’t give this rebranding everything I have, there won’t be a future for me—or us. This is my second chance Y/N, I can’t fail again."

Y/N’s heart ached at the sight of Dami, so full of guilt and fear. She had always known how much Dami’s career meant to her, how she had poured every ounce of herself into becoming an idol. Y/N had seen her at her lowest, and now she was watching Dami trying to protect something she believed was slipping away.

"But what about me?" Y/N’s voice was quiet, but the emotion behind it was heavy. "What am I supposed to do while you’re out there giving everything to this new group? Just... wait for you?"

Dami shook her head, tears finally spilling over. "I don’t want you to wait for me. That’s not fair to you. You deserve someone who can give you all the attention you need, all the time. And right now, I can’t. I don’t know when I’ll be able to again."

Y/N felt her chest tighten, the weight of the inevitable crushing her. She had always known that being with an idol would be hard—late nights, missed dates, constant separation—but she never thought it would come to this. She had been willing to fight for them, to stick it out. But now, it felt like Dami was asking her to let go.

"So... you’re choosing your career over me," Y/N whispered, her voice cracking.

Dami’s face crumpled at the words. "It’s not like that. I’m doing this for both of us. I need to prove to myself, to everyone, that I can succeed. And I need to do it without any distractions. I need you to understand."

Y/N wiped away a stray tear, biting her lip to keep from sobbing. She stood up slowly, the realization settling in like a cold weight in her chest. "I understand, Yubin, I just wish... I wish it didn’t have to be like this."

Dami stood too, her hand reaching out instinctively, but she stopped short of touching Y/N. Her fingers hovered in the air before she pulled them back. "I wish it didn’t either."

For a long moment, they just stood there, the space between them feeling wider than ever. Y/N looked into Dami’s eyes one last time, trying to memorize the way they looked, so full of love and regret.

"Good luck with Dreamcatcher," Y/N said, her voice barely audible.

Dami nodded, her throat too tight to respond. She watched as Y/N turned to walk away, her heart shattering with every step. Just as Y/N was an arms length away, Dami called out, her voice a soft, desperate plea. 

"Y/N... I’m sorry."

Y/N paused for a moment, her back still to Dami. She closed her eyes, taking a deep breath before replying, her voice calm but broken. "Me too."

And with that, Y/N made her way back home, leaving Dami standing alone in the quiet, her heart heavy with the weight of the choice she had made.

Y/N sat at the edge of her bed, her fingers tracing the edges of a small, framed photo of her and Dami from when they weren't even dating, just a pair of childhood friends that grew into something more. It was taken years ago—before Minx was even a thing, before the pressure of fame began to pull Dami in directions Y/N couldn’t follow.

She set the photo down with a heavy sigh, glancing at her phone. The Dreamcatcher debut was today.

It had been two months since the breakup, and the wound still felt fresh. Some mornings, Y/N woke up thinking for a split second that everything was fine, only for the harsh reality to crash down around her. Dami was gone, and she had made it clear that Y/N wasn’t part of this new chapter in her life.

But as much as it hurt, Y/N couldn’t bring herself to stay away. She still believed in Dami, believed in her dream. So when she saw the announcement for Dreamcatcher’s debut stage, Y/N had impulsively bought a front-row ticket. She wasn’t sure why. Maybe a part of her hoped that being there, watching Dami shine on stage, would help her understand why she had to let go.

The lights were blindingly bright as Y/N stood in the concert hall, surrounded by eager fans waiting for Dreamcatcher’s debut performance. The energy in the room was electric—people cheering and chanting in anticipation.

Y/N adjusted her mask, trying to blend into the sea of excited faces. She had come to support Dreamcatcher, to support Dami, even though being here felt like walking a fine line between pride and heartbreak.

When the lights dimmed and the opening notes of Dreamcatcher’s debut song filled the air, Y/N’s heart raced. She felt a strange mixture of excitement and dread bubbling in her chest. And then, there she was—Dami, standing at the far left, her gaze fierce and focused, looking more powerful than Y/N had ever seen her.

Y/N swallowed hard, her eyes drifting from one member to the next, trying not to linger on Dami for too long. The girls moved with precision, their dark, intense choreography perfectly aligned with the haunting melody of their debut track.

A bittersweet pride surged through Y/N. This was what Dami had worked for—this moment, this fresh start. The group was incredible, their stage presence undeniable, and Y/N couldn’t help but feel that same old tug of admiration. But underneath the pride, there was an ache, a constant reminder of what she had lost.

As the performance ended and the members took their final poses, the crowd erupted into applause. Y/N clapped along, her heart pounding as Dreamcatcher stood there, basking in the spotlight. It was a new beginning for them—and for Dami.

But despite the cheers, Y/N felt a hollowness settle in her chest. This wasn’t where she was supposed to be. She should have been beside Dami, sharing in this moment, but instead, she was just another face in the crowd.

As the girls spoke to the audience, Y/N’s phone buzzed in her pocket. She pulled it out and saw a flood of notifications from social media—tweets, photos, and videos of the show already circulating online. Her eyes landed on one post in particular, a tweet with a photo attached.

"Who’s that girl in the front row? She looks like she hasn’t slept in days... #DreamcatcherDebut 

Y/N frowned, glancing at her reflection in her phone’s dark screen. The exhaustion had crept up on her in the past few weeks—sleepless nights spent thinking about Dami, about the decision she had made, about the future that seemed so uncertain. She hadn’t even realized how obvious it was.

She quickly put her phone away, trying to shake off the comment. This wasn’t about her.

Y/N found herself returning to every Dreamcatcher performance, like clockwork. Every time stage performance, new song, or a new album, Y/N was there, standing in the same spot, close to the stage. It became a ritual, something she couldn’t stop, even as the exhaustion built inside her.

The late nights started catching up to her, she wasn't rich so she had to work extra hours just to afford to go to their showcases. Y/N found herself falling into restless sleep after each show, her dreams always haunted by the same question—why hadn’t she been enough for Dami? Why had their love, once so strong, crumbled under the weight of a dream?

Despite the sleepless nights, Y/N kept going, drawn to the performances as if they were the only thing grounding her. She didn’t come for recognition, or even for Dami, specifically. It was the whole group now. She was proud of all of them—the way they grew, the way their music evolved, and the way their fan base grew larger with every comeback.

But the fans... they noticed her. Every time.

Her presence at every stage didn’t go unnoticed by the Dreamcatcher fanbase. Y/N had unintentionally caught the attention of fans who recognized her familiar face at every show. She had become a regular in the crowd, always in the front, always looking exhausted but determined.

The comments and speculation started flooding social media again.

"She’s literally at every comeback! Front row every time. Someone give this girl some sleep 😂 #Dreamcatcher #Number1Fan"

"Has anyone else noticed how she's always there, girl get some rest?? #InsomniacGirl"

"I think we found Dreamcatcher’s number one fan! #InsomniacGirl #Dreamcatcher"

At first, Y/N laughed off the comments. But as the weeks passed, the term "Insomniac" began to stick. Fans started to call her the "Insomniac Girl," a mysterious figure who was always present no matter where the performance was. Eventually, the word took on a new meaning.

When the time came for Dreamcatcher’s fanbase to choose a name, the word "InSomnia" quickly emerged as the clear favorite. The name resonated deeply with fans, as it not only fit perfectly with the group's haunting, ethereal and nightmare concept. While the name was undeniably fitting, a significant factor behind its popularity was Y/N’s unwavering commitment to the group. Her tireless efforts and passionate support inspired countless fans, leading them to rally behind the hashtag "InsomniacGirl” and spin it so it became a symbol of their shared journey with Dreamcatcher. As votes poured in, it became evident that the name was not just a reflection of the group’s identity but also a tribute to the special connection between Y/N and the fanbase.

It was strange, seeing herself become a meme or symbol for something bigger than she had intended. But Y/N didn’t mind. If anything, it distracted her from the constant ache in her chest that came from being so close to Dami, yet feeling further away than ever.

Dami noticed her immediately at the debut stage.

How could she not? Y/N, standing right in front of the stage, face partially hidden behind a mask but unmistakable, even with the exhaustion etched on her features. Dami had forced herself to look away during the performance, to focus on the choreography, the music, anything but Y/N’s familiar presence.

At first, Dami convinced herself it was a fluke—maybe Y/N was just there to support her debut. After all, they had been together for years. But when Y/N showed up again for the next comeback, and then the next, Dami started to question why.

Each time she spotted Y/N in the crowd, a knot of guilt tightened in her chest. She had asked for space, and had made the decision to focus on her career. So why was Y/N still coming? What was she trying to prove?

But what frustrated Dami the most was that Y/N never made it obvious she was there just for her. She didn’t try to meet Dami’s gaze, didn’t wave, didn’t do anything to draw attention to herself. Y/N blended into the sea of fans, clapping along, cheering for all the members. It made Dami wonder—was she imagining the connection between them? Or had Y/N truly moved on, simply supporting the group as a fan?

Still, every time Y/N showed up, it stirred something in Dami. It was a reminder of the life she had left behind, of the person who had been her anchor when everything felt unstable. And as Dreamcatcher’s popularity began to grow, so did the weight of seeing Y/N in the crowd.

It was after one particularly exhausting comeback stage when Dami finally snapped. She had just finished performing, the adrenaline still pulsing through her veins, when she spotted Y/N again—same spot, same tired eyes. She looked as if she hadn’t slept in days, her dedication unwavering despite the toll it was clearly taking on her.

It frustrated Dami to no end. Why was she still coming? Why hadn’t she moved on?

As the stage lights dimmed and the members were escorted backstage, Dami grabbed her manager’s arm. “I need to talk to someone,” she said, her voice tight with determination.

Y/N was escorted backstage, clearly surprised by the sudden request. She had been about to leave, thinking tonight would be like all the others—a night spent watching Dreamcatcher from afar. But now, standing face to face with Dami, her heart pounded in her chest.

Dami’s expression was unreadable, a mix of exhaustion and frustration. She took a deep breath, struggling to keep her emotions in check.

“Y/N,” she started, her voice lower than usual. “Why are you still here? Why do you keep coming to the shows?”

Y/N blinked in surprise, unsure of how to respond. “I... I came to support Dreamcatcher.”

Dami shook her head, her eyes narrowing. “Every time? You haven’t missed a single stage. You look like you haven’t slept in days. Why?”

Y/N felt her throat tighten at Dami’s words. “Because I want to support you. All of you. It’s not about just you, Yubin. I’m here because I believe in Dreamcatcher, in what you’re all doing.”

Dami’s frustration faltered, replaced by confusion. “Then why do you look like you’re killing yourself to be here?”

A heavy silence enveloped them as Y/N searched for the right words, her heart aching with every breath. “I’m here because I care, Dami. And if that’s a problem, I’ll stop coming. But… I just want you to know that I’ll always be here for you.”

Dami looked at her, a storm of emotions swirling in her chest. She wanted to argue, to push Y/N away to protect herself, but the sincerity in her eyes made her heart tremble. Yet, despite the warmth of Y/N’s intentions, a cold reality settled in.

“It is a problem, Y/N,” Dami finally said, her voice breaking. “You know me better than anyone. You know I can’t just move on. Every time I see you, it reminds me of everything I’ve lost, and it makes me feel like I can't move on” She swallowed hard, the weight of her confession hanging in the air like a heavy fog. “That’s why I need to stop seeing you. I can’t keep pretending this doesn’t hurt.”

Y/N’s heart plummeted, the truth of Dami’s words hitting her like a physical blow. “If that’s what you want, then… okay,” she whispered, tears brimming in her eyes. “I’ll stop coming. But I don’t want you to think I don’t care. I really do wish you happiness… even if it means being apart.”

With a shaky breath, she turned away, each step feeling like a fracture in her heart. Dami stood frozen, watching Y/N walk away, the distance between them stretching endlessly. Conflicted emotions twisted within her—relief that she wouldn’t have to face the pain, yet an overwhelming sense of loss for the warmth and light Y/N brought into her life. 

As Y/N disappeared from sight, Dami felt a part of herself vanish with her, leaving an aching void that echoed with the memories they had shared. She closed her eyes, tears slipping down her cheeks as she whispered into the silence, “I wish things could be different.”

---

After the conversation with Dami backstage, something inside Y/N shifted. The exhaustion that had built up over the months, the sleepless nights spent traveling to every Dreamcatcher show, the weight of unspoken emotions—it all finally caught up with her. She realized she couldn’t keep doing this. She couldn’t keep showing up, trying to support from a distance, pretending it didn’t hurt to be there.

So, Y/N stopped going.

It wasn’t a decision she made lightly. The first comeback stage she missed, Near the end of Dreamcatcher’s "Boca" era, left her feeling like she had abandoned something important. She had become so accustomed to standing in the front row, her presence becoming a constant even when her heart had broken. But showing up wasn’t helping either of them, and after her last conversation with Dami, Y/N knew it was time to let go.

The weeks after that decision were hard. Her nights were quieter now, no more traveling from city to city, no more fan chants ringing in her ears. There was a strange void where Dreamcatcher’s music and Dami’s presence had once filled her life. But as the months passed, Y/N found herself slowly adjusting to the silence, to the space Dami had left behind.

She threw herself into work, looking for something to fill the emptiness that had settled in her chest. She had always been passionate about design, and after a few months of freelance work, Y/N landed a job as a graphic designer for a growing video game company. It was a fresh start—something she could pour her energy into, something that didn’t remind her of what she had lost.

The work was good. It kept her busy, and for the first time in what felt like forever, Y/N began to feel like she was building a future that wasn’t tethered to Dami. Growing up together, Dami had always been by her side, sharing dreams and aspirations, making it hard for Y/N to envision a path that didn’t include her. But now, surrounded by friendly coworkers and engaging projects, she found a newfound sense of independence. The challenges ahead excited her, making her eager to wake up every morning. There were even moments where she found herself genuinely happy, enjoying the small victories that came with her new role. Still, deep down, she occasionally felt the weight of Dami's absence, realizing just how much her friend had shaped her world.

Life was moving forward.

But even as Y/N found herself again, pieces of her past remained. She still followed Dreamcatcher’s career from a distance. No longer in the front row, no longer standing under the bright lights, but always quietly supporting. Every time they had a comeback, Y/N would buy their albums, her collection growing steadily over the two years she had spent apart from Dami. She would listen to their songs late at night, wondering how Dami was doing, but never letting herself get pulled back into the life she had left behind.

She told herself it was enough. That buying the albums, streaming their music, and watching their MVs was the best way to show her support now. But sometimes, in the quiet moments, Y/N would catch herself thinking about the shows she no longer attended, the smiles she no longer saw in person, and the space in the crowd where she used to stand.

Still, she was healing. She was finding herself again, slowly, piece by piece. It wasn’t perfect, and there were days when the ache of missing Dami felt sharper than usual, but Y/N had learned to live with it. She had her new job, a new sense of purpose, and she was proud of the person she was becoming without Dami by her side.

---

Dreamcatcher had gone through several eras—each one more successful than the last. From "Boca" to "Odd Eye" and beyond, they had continued to grow, their fanbase becoming more devoted with each comeback. And Y/N, from afar, had watched their rise with a mixture of pride and sadness.

But something was different now.

The announcement of Dreamcatcher’s new comeback for their "Maison" era sent a familiar wave of excitement through the fandom. Y/N felt the usual pang of anticipation when she saw the teasers, the promotional photos showing Dami and the others looking stronger than ever. But this time, something lingered in her chest longer than usual.

The years of separation hadn’t erased what Y/N had once felt. She had been doing well, finding herself again, but seeing Dreamcatcher’s continued success made her think back to all the stages she had missed, the moments she had chosen to stay away from. Part of her wondered how Dami was handling it all—whether she ever thought about Y/N, whether she missed her in the way Y/N sometimes missed the comfort of the past.

And now, with the "Maison" era approaching, it felt like a turning point—not just for Dreamcatcher, but for Y/N too.

She held the newest album in her hands, fresh from its delivery. She hadn’t stopped buying them, not once. Flipping through the photo book, she smiled softly at the images of Dami, Siyeon, and the other members. She could see the growth in their eyes, the determination. It was beautiful, but it also hurt in a way she couldn’t quite explain.

Because even though Y/N had moved on—gotten a new job, started a new chapter of her life—she had never fully let go. Dreamcatcher would always be a part of her, and so would Dami. But as she stared down at the album in her hands, Y/N realized that sometimes, moving on didn’t mean forgetting. It just meant finding new ways to live with the memories.

She didn’t need to be in the front row anymore. She didn’t need to stand in the crowd, waiting for Dami’s eyes to meet hers. Because even though that chapter had ended, she was still proud—of Dreamcatcher, of Dami, and of herself.

While Y/n seemed to be healing, the other half of the broken relationship wasn't doing so well these past few years. The absence felt louder than any applause for Dami, It wasn’t obvious at first. The stage lights were still blinding, the energy from the crowd still infectious, and Dreamcatcher was in the middle of one of their most intense eras—“Boca.” Their sharp choreography demanded full focus, and the booming music drowned out every other thought. But something gnawed at Dami from the moment she stepped on stage.

She scanned the front rows between transitions, eyes flickering over the sea of faces illuminated by lightsticks and phone screens. But there was no familiar figure standing near the barricades. No tired eyes, no mask hiding a weary face.

Y/N wasn’t there.

Dami’s chest tightened in a way she hadn’t expected. It was irrational—Y/N had said she’d stop coming. She had made it clear during their last backstage conversation that she wouldn’t be there anymore, especially if it was causing tension. So why was Dami’s heart sinking, her breath catching in her throat?

She didn’t want to admit how much she had gotten used to seeing Y/N at every show. It had started to feel like a routine—a comfort, even. But tonight, without her, the stage felt... emptier.

As the lights dimmed and the performance wrapped up, the other members laughed and shared excited smiles, but Dami’s energy lagged behind. She forced herself to smile as they waved to the fans, but her mind was elsewhere.

Backstage, the energy was buzzing with adrenaline. Their manager congratulated them, reminding them how well they were doing with each new comeback. Dreamcatcher was gaining momentum, their fanbase growing every day. The chatter from the crew, the cheers from fans outside—it all blended into the background as Dami sat down, her legs feeling heavier than usual.

“Hey, you okay?” Siyeon asked, plopping down beside her. “You’ve been kinda quiet today.”

Dami blinked, pulling herself back to the present. She forced a smile, but it didn’t reach her eyes. “Yeah, just... tired.”

Siyeon gave her a knowing look. “You’ve been saying that a lot lately. Take care of yourself, okay? The fans will riot if you collapse.”

Dami chuckled weakly, nodding. But her mind wandered again, back to the audience. To the empty space where Y/N used to stand.

The fans noticed, too. Y/N’s absence had not gone unnoticed by the **InSomnia** fanbase. It started with a few scattered comments on social media:

"Where’s the Insomniac girl? Haven’t seen her at the last couple of shows…"

"Did anyone else notice? She was always in the front row, but she’s been gone lately."

"Did she finally get some sleep? 😂 #InsomniacGirl"

"Wait... is something wrong? She hasn’t been at any of the stages lately."

Even the other members began to wonder. After all, she had become a constant presence at their shows, even more noticeable because of her dedication despite looking exhausted. JiU mentioned it casually during rehearsals one day, making a lighthearted joke about how their "biggest fan must’ve finally gotten some rest." But the joke fell flat for Dami, and she found herself staring at the floor, guilt gnawing at her from the inside out.

The absence grew heavier with each passing show. Every time Dami stepped on stage, she couldn’t help but search the crowd, hoping to see that familiar face. But Y/N was gone, just like she had promised.

At first, Dami tried to tell herself it didn’t matter. She was doing this for Dreamcatcher, for her career, just like she had always planned. They were on the rise, gaining fans with every comeback. They had sold-out shows, charting songs—everything she had dreamed of when they rebranded from Minx. But somehow, the excitement didn’t feel the same anymore.

She had pushed Y/N away to focus on this, but now that Y/N was truly gone, Dami couldn’t help but feel the growing emptiness. She had thought distance would make things easier—that without the distraction of their past relationship, she would be able to give all of herself to Dreamcatcher. But the distance only made her realize how much she had relied on Y/N’s presence—how much seeing her at the front row had kept her grounded.

As the weeks blurred together, Dami’s performances began to change. There was still precision in her movements, still professionalism in every step, but the fire that once fueled her seemed to flicker. Her fellow members noticed. Fans noticed. And deep down, Dami felt it, too.

The fanbase was quick to speculate, their theories running wild on social media.

"Dami looks different lately... like her energy’s lower. Anyone else notice?"

"Maybe she’s just tired from all the schedules? #DreamcatcherFighting"

"Where’s Insomniac Girl? Dami hasn’t looked the same since she stopped coming to the shows…"

Every time Dami saw one of those posts, her heart sank a little deeper. The connection was there, even if no one understood why. She did. She missed Y/N—missed the silent support, missed seeing her in the front row cheering for all of them, missed knowing that no matter what happened, someone she cared about deeply was always there, even if they were no longer together.

But admitting that felt like betrayal. She had made this decision, she had chosen this path, and now she was suffering the consequences.

One night, after another draining performance, Dami sat alone in her hotel room, scrolling mindlessly through her phone. The glow of the screen was the only light in the room as she stared at a fan-taken video of their latest stage. The comments below were filled with excitement for their comeback, praise for their growth—but also comments about her.

"Why does Dami look so... off? She’s not smiling as much."

"Our Panda is still killing it! But our girl needs rest!"

And, of course, more speculation about Insomniac Girl.

"She really hasn’t been at any of the comeback stages… I kinda miss seeing her in the crowd."

"Maybe something happened to her? #InsomniacGirl"

Back to “Maison” the atmosphere in the venue buzzed with anticipation as Dreamcatcher arrived, their hearts racing with excitement. The familiar scent of stage makeup and the electric hum of soundchecks filled the air, creating a whirlwind of emotions. Each member took a moment to soak it all in—the fans, the lights, the moment they had been waiting for.

Backstage, the girls huddled together, nerves fluttering in their stomachs. Dami’s heart pounded as they ran through the final touches of their performance. She caught sight of the colorful light sticks glowing in the dark, a wave of energy washing over her as she thought of all the supporters who had believed in them. “We can do this,” she said, her voice steady despite the excitement coursing through her.

“Let’s give them a show they’ll never forget!” JiU cheered, her infectious enthusiasm sparking smiles around the group. They exchanged determined looks, each of them silently promising to pour their hearts into this performance.

As the lights dimmed, the atmosphere shifted. The roar of the crowd surged, drowning out any lingering doubts. As the intro music started, Dami’s nerves transformed into exhilaration. She positioned herself at the front, channeling the energy of their fans into her movements. The choreography flowed seamlessly, each beat resonating through her body, and for those few minutes, nothing else mattered.

After their performance, as they stood backstage, the members were still riding the high of the show. Dami could hardly breathe from the adrenaline. They had done their best, and she felt proud. But amid the excitement, there was a whisper of doubt that nagged at her. “Do you think we actually have a chance at winning?” she asked, half-joking.

“Honestly? I doubt it,” Handong replied with a light laugh. “But even if we don't, we are getting closer and closer. It's only a matter of time”

The girls nodded in agreement, sharing laughs and teasing each other about their performances. They had worked so hard, and in the end, they were just grateful to be there, soaking in the cheers from the crowd. The host began announcing the nominees, and Dami felt a sense of calm wash over her. 

As the countdown began on the screen, the members gathered in a tight huddle, oblivious to the suspense building in the audience. . She glanced around at her members, their expressions a mix of excitement and disbelief, but she couldn’t shake the feeling that they weren’t winning this time.

When the countdown reaches zero, the host’s voice echoed through the venue: “And the winner is… Dreamcatcher!” The room erupted into cheers, but for a moment, the girls stood frozen in shock. Dami’s heart stopped as the reality of the words sunk in. 

Confetti rained down from above, and it took a moment for the cheers to break through the shock. “Wait, did we really win?” Dami exclaimed, eyes wide as she looked around at her members. The disbelief turned into tears of joy for most of the members as they all embraced each other tightly, the moment finally sinking in. They had done it—against all odds.

The stage lights bathed them in a golden glow as the confetti fell around them. The members hugged each other tightly as the crowd cheered in celebration. Their fans had worked so hard to make this moment possible, and Dreamcatcher had finally achieved something they had dreamed of for years.

But as Dami stood there, microphone in hand, all she could feel was the absence of someone who wasn’t there to see it.

Her eyes scanned the audience, a habit she couldn’t break, searching for a face she knew wouldn’t be there. Y/N had promised to stop coming, and she had kept that promise. And now, as Dreamcatcher stood victorious on stage, Dami realized just how much she had depended on Y/N’s presence to keep her grounded.

When they moved backstage for the celebratory photos and interviews, Dami went through the motions—smiling, thanking the fans, posing for pictures—but her heart wasn’t in it. The happiness that filled the room felt distant, like something she was watching from the outside.

Later, when they went live to thank their fans, the other members laughed and celebrated, sharing the joy of their first win with InSomnia. But Dami stood at the edge of the screen, quiet and distracted. Her phone buzzed in her hand, and she glanced down, hoping it was just another congratulatory message from a staff member or friend.

It wasn’t.

It was from Y/N.

Congratulations on your first win, Yubinnie 🎉 I can't put into words how proud I am of you and the entire team. I remember all the late nights and hard work you put into this, and it’s incredible to see it all pay off. You’ve always had this fire inside you, and you’ve carried Dreamcatcher to new heights with your passion and talent. 

This moment is just the beginning, and I hope you take a moment to soak it all in. You deserve every bit of this victory and more. I want you to know that no matter where you are or what happens, I’ll always be cheering you on from the sidelines. Please take care of yourself, okay? Remember to rest and find joy in all that you do. Your happiness means everything to me.

You’ve got this, Yubin. Always rooting for you! 💖

As Dami read Y/N’s message, her heart swelled with emotion. The words wrapped around her like a warm embrace, and for a fleeting moment, the weight of everything lifted. She could almost hear Y/N’s voice in her mind, filled with encouragement and love. Tears prickled at the corners of her eyes, but she quickly blinked them away, not wanting the other members to see her vulnerable state during such a joyous occasion.

The message was unexpected, but it hit Dami like a wave of emotion. Her fingers tightened around the phone, and before she could stop herself, tears began to blur her vision. She hadn’t cried when they announced their win. She hadn’t cried when the confetti fell, or when her members hugged her tightly on stage. But now, alone with the weight of Y/N’s words, the tears came.

She turned her head away from the camera, trying to hide the sudden rush of emotion as her fellow members continued to chat excitedly with the fans. She quickly wiped her eyes, hoping no one noticed the sudden shift in her expression. But the truth was clear—this win, this moment of triumph, felt empty without Y/N.

Dami glanced down at the message again, rereading it, her heart aching with regret.

She had pushed Y/N away because she thought it was the only way to succeed. But now, standing on the other side of that decision, she realized that she had lost something far more important and she knew what she had to do.

---

The next day, Dami found herself standing outside a quiet café, her heart pounding in her chest. It was the place they used to come to when they had free time, a place full of old memories—before everything became so complicated. Dami’s hands were shaking as she stepped inside, her eyes scanning the familiar space.

Y/N was already there, sitting at a small corner table, her hands wrapped around a cup of coffee. She looked... different. Not in a drastic way, but in a way that made Dami’s chest ache. There was a quiet strength in her posture, a peacefulness that hadn’t been there the last time Dami had seen her.

Dami approached slowly, her nerves getting the best of her. When Y/N looked up and their eyes met, Dami’s breath caught in her throat. It was like seeing her for the first time all over again. 

“Hey,” Y/N said softly, giving her a small smile.

“Hey,” Dami replied, sliding into the seat across from her. The air between them was thick with tension, but not the kind that came with anger. It was the weight of everything left unsaid.

For a moment, neither of them spoke. Dami’s eyes wandered, taking in the familiar setting that now felt so foreign. The sounds of other people chatting, the clinking of coffee cups, felt distant. All she could focus on was Y/N, sitting just a few feet away but feeling miles apart.

“I didn’t know if you’d want to see me,” Dami admitted, her voice barely above a whisper.

Y/N looked down at her cup, tracing the rim with her finger. “I didn’t know if I wanted to, either. But... I think we both needed this.”

Dami nodded, the words hitting harder than she expected. “I’m sorry, Y/N. For everything. I thought pushing you away was the right thing to do—that I needed to focus on my career, and that we’d both be better off if I... let you go. But I was wrong.”

Y/N didn’t respond right away. She took a deep breath, her gaze still focused on her cup as if searching for the right words. When she finally looked up, her eyes were calm but sad.

“I know why you did it, Dami. I understand,” Y/N said quietly. “I saw how much pressure you were under. I saw how much Dreamcatcher meant to you, and I didn’t want to get in the way. But it still hurts. You didn’t give me the chance to be there for you, and that... that’s what hurt the most.”

Dami’s heart ached at Y/N’s words. She had been so consumed with her own fear of failure, of losing her career, that she hadn’t realized she was shutting out the one person who had always been there for her.

“I thought I was protecting you,” Dami whispered, her throat tight. “But I was just protecting myself. I was scared of dragging you down with me if Dreamcatcher didn’t make it. But now... we’ve made it, and I’ve realized none of it feels right without you.”

Y/N smiled sadly, shaking her head. “Dami, you didn’t drag me down. I wanted to be there with you, through everything. But... we can’t go back. Too much has happened, and I think we’ve both changed.”

Dami felt her heart sink. The words she had dreaded, the ones she knew were coming, finally hit her like a wave. “So... there’s no chance?”

Y/N looked at her with soft eyes, full of understanding but also full of finality. “I’ll always care about you, Dami. I’ll always be your biggest fan. But I think we both need to move on.”

The silence that followed was heavy, filled with all the things Dami wished she could change but knew she couldn’t. Y/N had moved on. She wasn’t waiting in the front row anymore, and Dami had to accept that.

Tears burned in Dami’s eyes, but she blinked them away, trying to keep her voice steady. “I don’t know how to do that,” she admitted, her voice small. “I don’t know how to move on from you.”

Y/N’s expression softened, and for a brief moment, Dami thought she might reach across the table to take her hand. But Y/N didn’t. She just smiled, a quiet, sad smile that told Dami everything she needed to know.

“You’ll find a way,” Y/N said softly. “You have to.”

Dami bit her lip, nodding, though her heart felt like it was shattering. She had spent so long convincing herself that letting Y/N go was the right choice, and now, standing on the other side of that decision, she realized just how wrong she had been.

But it was too late.

Y/N stood up, her chair scraping softly against the floor. Dami stayed seated, her hands clenched in her lap, watching as Y/N prepared to leave. It felt too soon, too final, but Dami knew this was it.

“Take care of yourself, okay?” Y/N said, her voice gentle but firm.

Dami nodded, her throat too tight to speak. She watched as Y/N gave her one last look—a look filled with the kind of love that never truly fades, but knows it can’t stay. And then, Y/N turned and walked out of the café, leaving Dami sitting alone at the table.

The café felt colder now, quieter. The sound of the door closing behind Y/N echoed in Dami’s mind, a finality that settled deep in her chest.

She had made her choice, and now she had to live with it.

Dami sat there for a long time, staring at the empty seat across from her. She had Dreamcatcher, she had her career, she had everything she had worked for. But none of it felt the way she thought it would.

There would be more stages, more wins, more moments of success. But they would all feel a little emptier now, without Y/N standing in the crowd.

[clunelover]

I’ve been starting and deleting a post about C and his autism for a while (just cause there’s so much I want to get down it will take time to write, but also sometimes I lose track of my central points when I write a long post). I think the points I want to make are - it’s cool that we (parents, educators) have a better framework for identifying and accommodating neurodivergent kids, and that I’m proud of C for how much progress he’s made with his emotional regulation, as well as vindication for me who has been saying "something is Up with this kid" since he was 2, and later specifically "I think he’s autistic" but took a while to get traction with his pediatrician and with Jeremy.

Oh and also an offshoot topic about autism and video games and my relationship with my stepmom, and how awesome my therapist is!

Well first I guess I’ll say, I’m just so glad we got that evaluation done and that they said he has educational autism. That’s not a formal diagnosis, but I am kind of treating it that way - and I find it’s empowering me to be able to see certain behaviors and just think "yup, he’s autistic" rather than waffling on why he might be doing that (not that I think it’s unimportant to get at more details of why he’s doing something, I just used to agonize more over the "IS that autism??" Of it all) related to that, I’m also like "lol how did any of us ever think he might not have it??" - so one example, he has always been really good at picking out routes to places we go regularly. He could give you turn by turn directions to and from daycare when he was three. This would then become distress if you went a different way that he perceived to be Wrong. At the time we were like "what a funny quirk, also he must be very smart" (still true). More recently, my dad took him to kids chess club at the library, and I had tried to prepare C but had just told him "the library" so he assumed I meant the one by our house. But it was actually a different library. So when grandpa got on the freeway, he started melting down about it being the wrong way. My dad told me about this and said he was able to calm him down, and then he had a great time at chess (more on those details later) and then afterwards, they got ice cream…so, the issue of "we’re going the wrong way" had been resolved and several more interesting things had happened since then, but as soon as he got out of my dad’s car and saw me - "why didn’t you tell me it was at a different library" was the only thing he wanted to talk about. So now, diagnosis in hand, I can just say "aw, yeah he’s autistic and knowing what’s going to happen is a big need for him - but not just what’s going to happen: where are we going, have we been there before, and how do we get there - it would help him a lot to know." And in retrospect - the fact that he’s always been so rigidly attuned to driving directions was a big sign! But also, overall we’ve come so far, I feel like when I was a kid that would have just never been caught as a sign of an actual condition, and he would have been yelled at to "just calm down" about the directions for Christ’s sake!

As for the chess - he played two games and lost both, but my dad said they were against older kids, and that C kept his cool about it! Which is really great - he used to melt down more if he lost or things didn’t go his way, but he’s made a lot of progress there. Some of it is helped by there being rules - like I’m sure if someone played WRONG or cheated or something, he’d have had a meltdown (omg sudden flashback to the worst tantrum I can remember having - I was somewhere between age 7 and 9, and was playing memory with my dad and I was convinced he’d cheated and I fucking LOST IT, screaming so hard at the top of my lungs for so long that it really freaked my dad and stepmom out…hm interesting) but anyway, losing within the established parameters is Okay with him.

Also I met his teachers today and they seem great - a woman who came to America from Mexico when she was 15, so is "fully bi-cultural and bilingual" as she put it, and then a really interesting flamboyant man whose classroom is full of puppets, and he says he uses them for different topics, like there’s the science puppet, and the social-emotional learning puppet…oh and he showed me he has tap shoes in the room that he says he uses when teaching math - tapping along to counting, or something?? Anyway he seemed like a really special guy and I think C will like him! I told the teachers about C’s educational autism. He wasn’t with me cause he was hanging out with my dad and swimming in his pool. The woman teacher suggested - they’ll be at the school on Tuesday but school doesn’t start for most classes until Wednesday, so why don’t Jeremy and I come back and bring him on Tuesday so he can meet the teachers and they can show him where the "take a break" spaces are and help him pick a spot to sit near those areas and what the "I’m taking a break" signal can be. So I’m very reassured by this!!

Okay my other topic about his video game obsession shall wait for another post cause this one is already long.