#I-I had a feeling that I belonged I-I had a feeling I could be someone be someone be someone You got a fast car Is it fast enough so you can

[mandarinmoons]

Dessert

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem! reader Summary: Upon finding out that Spencer left his lunch at home reader heads over to The BAU to hand it over to him along with an extra sweet surprise Words: ~ 600 Warnings: None

“Spence, someone’s here to see you!”

Spencer looked up from his paperwork toward the voice that called him. He saw JJ near the doorway with another woman next to her, not a stranger, but someone he knew all too well. It was you.

As his eyebrows furrowed, Spencer stood up and made his way over to you. His work was the last place he expected you to show up, not that he wasn’t happy to see you, but his relationship to you wasn’t something he had mentioned to anyone, not even his mother.

You and Spencer had only been dating for a few months and with everything going extremely well during that time he still hadn’t told anyone on the team about you, and why should he? Spencer was a fairly private person and with how demanding and dangerous his job could be he didn’t want to open the door of horrors to you to keep you safe, to not scare you away. Everything was still so new, the highs of the honeymoon phase were still felt by the both of you and with Spencer’s life going down the way that it has, he was determined to make it last as long as he could. He needed a break from everything, as anyone else does, and being in your arms was his escape.

“Y/N, what’re you doing here?”

You chuckled as you held up a tupperware container to Spencer’s face, his confusion turning to realization in an instant.

“You forgot your lunch. I thought that I’d bring it over.”

Spencer cleared his throat and took the container in his hands, his eyes falling to the floor as he felt his teammates glance over at you both from across the bullpen. He felt his cheeks heat up and it was evident that he wasn’t going to be able to keep his sweet little secret under the wraps. With the room being filled with profilers, everyone was bound to know what role you played in Spencer’s life.

“Thank you, I appreciate it.”

Spencer’s lips were quick to turn into a small smile when he heard you chuckle and the smile grew wider when you took him in for a hug. Hugs were usually something Spencer wasn’t accustomed to, but he could never pass one up when it came from you.

Your arms wrapped around Spencer’s neck, your fingers lightly caressing the back of his nape making a shiver go down his spine. Spencer’s free hand went to rest on your lower back, his fingers copying your movements with his thumb caressing the fabric of your sweater, this is exactly what he needed to get through the day.

“Oh, don’t forget dessert.”

Before Spencer had a chance to question what you meant, your hands cupped his cheeks and Spencer froze as you peppered light kisses over his face. His eyes blinked rapidly as he took it in, his cheeks now on fire from the loving act.

Spencer watched as you waved at him goodbye and walked out the door, feeling as if his feet were glued to the floor as he wasn’t able to move. His gaze stuck to the doorway you departed from, hoping you’d perchance run back in for one last kiss.

Spencer felt a slap on his back and nearly jumped on the spot from the sensation, then hearing a familiar chuckle belonging to Derek and a sigh parted his lips, knowing what was bound to come next.

“You’ve got some explaining to do, player.”

You can find my masterlist here! Let me know your thoughts in the comments and like & reblog to support <3

[heestoleurgirl]

sim jaeyun 𝜗𝜚⋆₊˚

₍ᐢ. .ᐢ₎ in which riki broke up with you, leaving you devastated and depressed. that is, until you get drunk on a night out, and somehow find yourself in his best friend's bed.

genre: angst, smut (pwp) pairing: ex's best friend!jake x fem!reader warnings: smut, MDNI!! wc: 5k

A/N: why am i writing jake smut, im not even jake biased

masterlist 𖤐.ᐟ

21 days. 21 days since your boyfriend, riki, broke up with you. everyone said it would get easier to deal with over time, and you knew they were right, but you still felt like shit every hour of every single day.

anywhere you looked, you'd just get reminded of him and have flashes of unwanted memories in your mind. it felt like absolute torture. yes, this had been your first serious relationship and you loved him so much, of course you were upset (to say the least).

the worst part was that you still saw him every now and then on campus, which only made your heart ache more. especially when he happened to be around his girl friends. you knew it was just irrational jealousy but that didn't stop you from getting nauseous at the sight.

જ⁀➴ more under the cut!

one thing was for certain: you couldn't keep going like this, you were extremely exhausted from feeling so miserable 24/7. crying all the time was getting old, and rotting in bed forever didn't seem like a good long term solution. so, you had a totally mature and genius idea that would definitely not make things worse in any way. there was a house party being hosted by someone you knew, it would be the perfect place to get drunk and forget about your ex. even if it's just for one night.

your friends had already been nagging you to go, knowing your current state and how you barely left your house unless it was absolutely necessary. they were worried for you and missed your radiant aura. minhee was convinced she'd find you a hot guy that would help you move on. yeah, you knew that wouldn't work as simple as that, it wasn't easy to simply forget someone you loved with your whole heart and dated for quite a while. but at least you could give it a try, right?

♡

fast forward to friday, you sat on the carpet in front of the body length mirror in your room, attempting to do your makeup. truth be told, it's been a while since you made yourself look so glamorous, which made it all the more difficult to get ready. every fibre of your being was screaming at you to just stay home and cry yourself to sleep while watching rom coms. but you pushed through, forcing yourself to stay on track with your plans and also not let down your friends who were there for you.

the faint sound of a honk broke you out of your thoughts, causing you to grab your belongings and waddle down the stairs in a dress that was shorter than you were comfortable with. your friend karina had gotten it for you a while ago, and you felt bad for never wearing it since then.

"looking good y/nnie!" minhee smirked and jokingly whistled as you managed to navigate yourself in to the passenger seat of her car.

all you could do was roll your eyes and playfully nudge her shoulder. "shut up"

she wiggled her brows in response before shifting gears and taking off to pick the other girls up too. you'd be lying if you said you weren't nervous about tonight, and feeling some form of regret. you could only pray and hope that riki wouldn't be there, or you'd definitely drown yourself in the pool without a second thought.

following your excited and chatty friends up the stairs felt strangely like walking towards your impending doom. you stuck close to minhee, who unsurprisingly immediately made her way to the drinks. not like you minded, because there was no way you were surviving this night without any alcohol.

the unknown mix of drinks burned your throat as you swallowed it, not really bothering to be sensible. before you knew it, you were on the dance floor with your friends, laughing and singing along to the songs blasting from the speakers. even if it was due to the alcohol, finally having a smile on your face was really refreshing. karina seemed to notice, who flashed you a grin and tugged you closer as the two of you were dancing like there was no tomorrow.

as the night went on, you gradually lost yourself to the alcohol that was now buzzing in your veins. you didn't feel like yourself at all, but in the best way possible. anyone would be able to tell that you were completely out of it by now.

you had no idea where your friends had disappeared off to, and somehow you found yourself not caring. while you were busy pushing past people with no particular destination in mind, you accidentally bumped into someone.

"woopsies, silly me!" you giggled drunkenly, looking up to see who it was. your heart did a backflip when you managed to recognize the face staring back at you.

"no worries darling." you knew that aussie accent way too well. standing right in front of you was jake, riki's best friend. honestly you were just relieved that it wasn't riki himself.

"oh, hi jake." you stumbled a bit and grabbed onto his arm for support. he merely looked down at you in amusement, finding the blush on your cheek quite cute. his eyebrow shot up subtly, eyeing the revealing dress that was definitely out of chatacter for you. despite that, you looked undeniably gorgeous like always.

jake's hand moved to your waist casually, acting as a stabilizer so you wouldn't fall over. normally, you would've felt awkward in a situation like this, but now you weren't even phased.

"you look like you've had one too many drinks, hm?" he leaned closer to speak, so you'd hear him over the loud music. your hands instinctively tightened around his arm.

"i-i'm fine..." you mumbled stubbornly, even though it was obvious you were close to collapsing right there on the spot.

"are you here alone? where are your friends?" if you were sober, you definitely wouldn't have missed the slight concern laced with his voice.

"uhmm... i dunno!" you grinned sheepishly at him, still pressed against his arm. "i think they ditched me"

you had no idea when or how you lost them, so his guess was as good as yours. "i was just about to leave anyway. can't leave a pretty thing like you drunk and alone"

before you knew it, jake was dragging you out of the party along with him. you weren't exactly sure what was going on, but even in your state you knew that you trusted him. after all, he was your ex's best friend, you'd known him for a while.

♡

jake guided you into his bedroom, sitting you down on his bed and looking down at you, as if contemplating something. now that you were actually here, in his apartment, he wasn't sure if this was the right decision. but what else could he do, leave you at the party when you were completely shitfaced? absolutely not.

he kneeled down in front of you and carefully took one of your legs in his hand, removing your heel with the upmost precision. the other one was discarded too, letting your feet feel relieved from being squished together all night.

you were quiet now, past your drunken giggling and just zoning out, having no clue where you were. he almost laughed at the sight. he'd never seen you so vulnerable and adorable.

"stay here, i'll bring you some water" he stood up and disappeared into the bathroom for a few minutes. true to his words, he returned with the water in one hand, and a pill in the other.

you watched with glossy eyes as he sat down next to you and gently guided the glass to your lips. you obeyed, feeling refreshed by the cold liquid. he gave you the pill next, urging you to swallow it. "this will make your headache more bearable tomorrow"

a quiet hum left your lips as you followed his instructions, then set the glass aside on his nightstand. your movements were still uncoordinated and messy, making him chuckle.

"you tired, pretty?" jake examined your droopy eyes, you looked so cute he had to hold himself back from smothering you in affection.

the first time jake saw you, he had felt starstruck. if he could go back in time, he definitely wouldn't have fumbled you so bad. he was a coward, he waited too long and suddenly you were dating his best friend. despite all his attempts to get rid of his attraction towards you, nothing seemed to work in his favour. you were quite literally the only girl he couldn't have, and ironically enough also the only one he wanted. but of course, he was respectful of your relationship with riki and was good at hiding his feelings towards you, he'd never let his jealousy be the reason he fell out with his best friend.

so here you were, sitting in his bed, drunk off your ass and it wouldn't take a genius to figure out why you'd drink so much. he wasn't sure how riki would react if he knew the situation he was in right now. he chose to push that thought aside and focus on you.

when you didn't answer his question, he spoke again, "you can sleep in my clothes, yeah?"

you nodded and stood up, letting him help you make your way to the bathroom. As he was closing the door, he added one more thing. "if you need any help, just shout for me."

it was quite difficult to get your dress off, but you managed somehow. all your limbs felt weak and heavy, and you were still disoriented, though you were able to change without falling over or breaking anything. jake's shirt swallowed your small frame comfortably, and you smiled faintly at the smell of his cologne lingering on the fabric. your mind was a jumbled mess of feelings as you returned, seeing him scrolling his phone, also in a more comfortable set of clothes.

he looked up and smirked at you, his eyes shamelessly travelling down your body as he took in the sight of you. to him, you'd never looked hotter. the combination of your messy hair and his shirt stopping by your mid-thighs was enough to make his head spin. he had to remind himself that you were drunk, and no matter how badly he wanted you he couldn't take advantage of you in this state.

seeing him pat a spot on the bed, you didn't need much convincing to climb under the covers and rest your head on a pillow. once again, you were welcomed with his scent, causing you to feel strangely comforted.

jake stood up and gave you one last look, making sure you were laid on your side so you wouldn't accidentally hurt yourself by choking on your tongue.

"where are you going?" you asked tiredly, opening your eyes to see him by the door of his bedroom.

"i'm sleeping on the couch." he raised a brow, surprised to see you sit up in the bed after just getting comfortable. your next words made him wonder if he was hallucinating.

"come back, i don't want to be alone"

your quiet, pleading voice was simply impossible to resist. how could he say no, when you were looking at him with literal puppy eyes? he sighed, and following a moment of hesitation he climbed into bed next to you. it's not like he didn't want to sleep next to you, god he would give anything to experience this. but he wasn't sure how long he could control himself when you were in his bed, looking like an angel.

for a few minutes, the room was filled with heavy silence as the two of you simply stared at each other. you admired his face, the dim lighting only adding to the tension slowly filling the air. you'd never really noticed just how pretty he was before. his round, brown eyes seemed so welcoming.

"jake..." you almost whispered his name, with nothing specific in mind. you just wanted to end the silence between you, it felt too tense.

"hm?" his eyes never left yours, studying your face as if you were the most interesting thing in the world. the longer you looked at him, the more your heart seemed to race.

"i... i don't know"

"what's wrong?" jake studied your glossy eyes, wondering why you were suddenly acting so emotional. his heart clenched at the sight of you nearly crying. he longed to pull you close and kiss you until you were smiling again.

"i don't know, i just..." you struggled to find words to express how you felt, especially with the alcohol still lingering in your system. there was so much you wanted to say, but you knew better than to break down in his bed when he'd been kind enough to bring you home with him safely. "...i don't wanna be alone. i hate the silence, i hate feeling everything and nothing at the same time i-"

suddenly you felt his finger wiping a stray tear from your cheek, one you haven't even noticed falling. there it was, that familiar heavy feeling in your heart. the one you were so sick of feeling, all you wanted was for it to go away.

you didn't really think before scooting over and hugging jake's larger frame. your face was buried in his neck, a good way to hide your tears as well as your embarrassment. his warmth felt intoxicating and you clutched his shirt like you were afraid he'd disappear.

jake didn't hesitate to welcome your hug and return it, he was more than happy to be your shoulder to cry on. seeing you in such a state made him realize just how emotionally drained you'd been since the breakup happened, he silently cursed riki for not taking care of you properly.

you felt like this was the first time someone had properly hugged you in weeks, which didn't help the overflowing emotions you were already experiencing. you clinged to him as if he was your lifeline, your only hope. there was no way you could explain the way his entire presence and embrace was more comforting than anything you'd felt in a while.

maybe you were delusional, but being in his arms like this made you feel all the more attracted to him. letting your guard down was something you rarely ever did, even with your most trusted friends. yet here you were, silently crying in jake's bed and confessing how lonely you felt as of late. it felt so intimate to be vulnerable around him.

"it's okay, you're not alone. i'm here, yeah?" he murmured against your hair, rubbing your back gently in an attempt to calm you down. if he wasn't paying attention, he would've missed the subtle nod of your head.

"i'm sorry. please don't leave." you whispered, sliding your hands under his shirt to feel the bare skin of his back that was practically radiating heat.

your touch caught him off guard and he almost hissed at the contact, his arms tightened around your waist. "i'm not going anywhere darling, and you have nothing to be sorry for. you've been through a lot and you just need some love"

yeah, you did need love. you felt guilty, a part of you still yearned for it to be riki who gave you the love you wanted so badly. but he was gone now, no matter how much you cried over it the past won't change. the more rational part of your brain was constantly urging you to move on and accept the fact that riki doesn't love you anymore. you swore the mixed emotions were going to drive you insane, if they haven't already.

but right now, even if it wasn't what you wanted, jake was what you needed. if only you knew the true extent of how much he cared for you.

jake's hands paused against your back when he felt the soft press of your lips against his neck. it surprised him so much that he couldn't help but wonder if he was imagining things. but no, he felt it yet again. "fuck, angel... don't do that" he struggled to speak properly.

"why not?" you pulled away a bit to examine his face, searching for signs of any discomfort, or maybe disgust. you just wanted to shower him in affection to show him how grateful you felt to be here with him right now. to be able to sleep in his bed and cry in his arms to your heart's extent.

he wasn't sure how to explain the reason he didn't want you to kiss him right now, and you were completely oblivious to his internal struggle.

"you're still tipsy, and emotional..." jake brushed a strand of hair away from your cheek, "i'm not going to take advantage of your state." he was being so sweet to you, it was almost annoying. yes, you were still not entirely sober but you couldn't deny the overwhelming urge to be... close to him.

so instead of replying, you leaned closer and pecked his cheek, causing jake to groan aloud. how could he possibly restrain himself when the girl he was whipped for was acting like this? he cupped your jaw with one hand and pulled your face closer, placing his lips onto yours with one swift motion.

your eyes fluttered shut and you kissed back as if you had done this a million times before. it felt so natural, and you were becoming lightheaded from how perfectly your lips felt against each other. previously you'd been worried that kissing someone would feel wrong, and you thought you'd imagine you were kissing riki instead, but right now there wasn't a single thought about him in your mind. all you could focus on was how good it was.

jake felt like he was losing his mind more every second he continued to kiss you. he didn't care how needy he might be coming off, cause fuck he'd wanted to this for months. never in a million years did he anticipate it would actually happen, in this context no less.

the kiss grew more heated as you moved your hands from his back to feel up his defined abs, relishing how supple and warm his skin was. at the same time, jake had a hand cupping your cheek, while the other one slid down to your waist, dipping under the shirt you were wearing. the feeling of your bare skin under his fingertips was absolutely euphoric. safe to say, neither of you were thinking about how right or wrong this might be at the moment. all your thoughts were out the window and you were entirely immersed in his company.

he didn't hesitate for a second when he realized you were tugging at the hem of his shirt, silently demanding its removal. the t-shirt was tossed aside, landing somewhere on the floor of his bedroom. your eyes widened as you were met with the sight of his bare upper body, you had to hold yourself back from practically drooling at the view. jake noticed your lustful gaze and couldn't help but smirk to himself. he pulled you closer and kissed you briefly before whispering in your ear lowly, "your turn."

he didn't leave you time to respond, tugging your shirt over your head. the action made you blush a bit, but you lifted your arms to help him remove the item of clothing. faint goosebumps littered your skin due to the sudden loss of heat, mixed with the tension in the air.

your hands landed on his chest, you took a moment to look into his eyes before inching closer and placing your lips on his for the nth time. the passion was halted for a moment, leaving room for the kiss to be more timid and soft. it didn't last for long though, soon enough it turned needy once again.

jake sat up without warning and pulled you into his lap snugly by your waist. your legs landed on either side of his thighs as you made yourself comfortable and wrapped your arms around his neck. his half lidded eyes and lazy grin made your heart skip a beat. for a second you felt stunned, an overwhelming sense of need filled you. he didn't miss the way your gaze travelled down his bare body once again, it sent a strange kind of satisfaction through him.

his lips found their way down from your jaw to your neck, peppering it with soft kisses. a quiet groan left his throat as you thread your fingers through his dark brown hair. the playful kisses turned into gentle nips and bites, jake couldn't resist leaving a few pretty marks along your porcelain skin.

your hushed gasp was a contrast to the mostly quiet atmosphere as his hands had somehow ended up squeezing your backside. the action caused you to arch your back instinctively, making you grind against him.

"fuck." he whispered, gently guiding your hips in his lap. the slight friction was intoxicating.

"jake..." his name left your mouth in a quiet whisper as you leaned your forehead on his shoulder, letting your urges get the best of you.

"i know, baby" his hands slid lower to caress your inner thighs tenderly. he tried not to moan as his hips pushed upward involuntary, amplifying the friction between you, while his boxers were becoming increasingly tight as his arousal strained against the fabric.

your lips found his once more, you were getting more desperate by the second and your mind was consumed purely with need for him. the material of his sweatpants felt soft under your fingers as you tugged subtly.

jake's breath hitched and his resolve crumbled almost immediately. he was a gone man, there was no going back now. breaking the kiss and muttering a quiet curse, he shoved his sweats and boxers down his hips in one swift motion. the rest was kicked off carelessly, leaving him completely bare under you. his hard length stood heavy against his stomach, flushed and leaking.

the sight made you want to faint on the spot, you had been so caught up chasing your lust and now it all felt real. you were still hovering on your knees, having lifted your hips to let him remove his remaining clothes.

but jake didn't plan on waiting around while you admired his erection, in a quick motion he flipped you over, pushing you against the pillows as he hovered above you. the view he had right now was almost enough to make him cum on the spot: you laid beneath him, sprawled out with messy hair and slightly swollen lips. not to mention some red marks he's left on your neck earlier (they definitely weren't the last either).

"you're so gorgeous, it's unfair."

before you knew it, he was kissing your shoulder, distracting you from the way his hand slid under your lacy panties. the gasp that left your lips was enough to let him know that you were surprised to feel his finger trail along your folds. god you were so wet he groaned out loud, opting to suck on your neck to keep himself quiet.

your arms darted to wrap around his neck once more as you felt him slide a finger into you. a broken moan left your lips, you bucked your hips into his hand, wanting to feel more of him.

"fuck, pretty, you're soaked" he murmured, his voice somewhat strained as he held himself back from shoving himself in fully and fucking you until you passed out.

"jake-" you couldn't speak properly even if you tried, especially not when another finger was pushed into you with ease. it was completely out of your control how your walls clenched around his diligently working fingers. "please..."

he could tell you were growing impatient and he knew exactly what you were asking for. as much as he longed to tease you and make you squirm under him as much as possible, his own arousal was consuming him whole.

after a few more pumps of his fingers, he pulled them out, earning a quiet whimper from you. he couldn't hold back a smirk, there was nothing that turned him on more than seeing you all desperate and needy for him, like you'd die if he didn't fill you up immediately. jake was pretty sure he'd never been as hard as he was right now in his entire life.

your panties were practically ripped off, not that you minded because that was the least of your concerns at the moment. you were completely focused on how jake grabbed your thighs and nudged them apart to position himself at your entrance.

he rubbed his tip against your aching clit, coating himself in your wetness and teasing you at the same time. "is this what you need doll? want me to fill you up?" he asked, his voice was low and laced with desire even with the obvious rhetorical question. he nudged inside, not giving you the full length yet as he moved his hands all over your body.

"yes! please jake, i need you" you whined shamelessly in response, tugging him closer with your hands on his back. there was no room for embarrassment, especially when you knew how much he was getting off from your begging.

he grunted in satisfaction at your response, pushing inside slowly until his hips pressed against yours. your gummy walls were tight and inviting, sucking him in with no effort. if jake thought he was close to losing it completely earlier, he was not ready for this moment. his entire body was tingling, senses heightened yet his brain completely gone, unable to form coherent thoughts.

"so good for me, i knew you could take it" he soothed your faint whimpers with a kiss on your forehead.

your eyes were glossy from the immense pleasure you felt with him just being buried to the hilt. the stretch was perfect, he filled you up perfectly without causing any pain.

after a moment of panting and moans, jake started to rock his hips, thrusting into you slowly. he wasn't sure how long he'd last with you being so perfect for him in every way.

"holy fuck..." he closed his eyes for a moment, desperate to keep himself together in favour of your pleasure and comfort. your soft moans and gasps didn't help his case one bit.

you couldn't stay quiet even if you tried, he was bringing you so much euphoria you swore you would explode. your legs instinctively wrapped around his waist as he sped up his movements, pushing as deep as possible. "fuck, jake..."

"so vocal for me" he hummed against your ear, his breath tickling your skin and giving you goosebumps yet again, only heightening the growing pleasure. as he continued to thrust into you, his hand left your waist to grap one or your hands and hold it down against the mattress, fingers intertwining naturally.

a sudden pain shot through his body in result of your nails digging into the skin of his back, altering between scratching and holding on. but the feeling only turned him on more, urging him to pound into you even faster.

"you're doing so well angel, shit" jake knew he wouldn't last much longer, so he was very relieved to feel you squirm and clench around his dick.

"it's so much..." you muttered between moans, your senses were flooded and overwhelmed by now. you swore you could see stars every time you felt his tip push against your cervix, his movements were painfully precise. "i'm close, jake"

you calling his name out so sweetly was music to his ears. he kissed your cheek and spoke in a strained voice yet again, "me too, you gonna come for me princess? hm?"

it was a miracle that you even lasted this long, your adamant nods were only seconds prior to you clamping down on him hard. a mix of a moan and grunt was heard from jake as he let go of your hand to wrap his arms around your waist instead.

with a few more sloppy thrusts, his climax was just behind yours. his hair was tugged and you squeezed your legs tightly as his hips jerked. you were filled up by ropes of his thick seed, making your eyes roll back from the pleasure completely and moan his name like a prayer.

both your bodies were moulded against each other, only disrupted occasionally with your light squirms. jake stroked your hair gently, holding onto you like he was afraid you would disappear. after a few peaceful moments, he carefully pulled out and grabbed a clean tissue to help you clean up.

once you were both under the cover again, he didn't waste any time to pull you against his chest. "i'm here, i won't leave." he whispered sweet reassurances to you, caressing any part of you he could reach. you practically melted into his arms completely, his presence was beyond comforting for your exhausted self.

you muttered against his warm skin quietly, "thank you"

"for what?" he smiled sweetly, even though you couldn't see his face. here you were, thanking him when you had been the one to give him the best experience he could ever ask for.

"taking care of me."

"i would never neglect my baby."

his words were enough to paint a soft smile onto your tired face. it didn't take long for you to drift into a peaceful sleep, especially when you were cuddled up to him so snugly. jake's heart swelled at how cute you looked in his arms. he couldn't ask for more, all he'd wanted was to take care of you and he finally got the chance, he wasn't going to hesitate or be a coward with you ever again.

a/n: so. i just wanted to try out writing smut but this is gonna be my first and last time because WTFF IS THIS LMAO

i'm sticking to smaus i can't write for the life of me

songs for this fic:

tags:@vivimura@s1rawb3rry@who-tf-soddhi@laurradoesloveu@p1hbrook@hoonielvv@nodoubtily@enhamonsterghoul@heebambilee@en-chantedtomeetyou@hsbae@jellyluv4eva@vivissection@beigerin@jwywife@elairah@heekilrvs@jayjw16enxp@lakoya@ijustreallylike2read@annovaz@strawberrynull@abbyeey@celestiai0@enhalxvr@llearlert@raizennloll@rizzmura@sabriochee@sol3chu@fluveriiez@kitty-won07@sucrosxi@kukkurookkoo@mimisxs@darquette@hhyvsstuff@lovelydeliciousfestival@luciathcv@bigwforjay@pshfan0812@lov4hoon@jaerisdiction@kireiinahana@abzyissupersleepy@madslove-enhypen@b3tt7boop@dodot04lover@ki2rins@sugarikiz ( ◡̀_◡́)ᕤ

[cressidagrey]

I would marry you with paper rings

Pairing: Max Verstappen x Colette Leclerc (Original Character)

Summary: 

May 2016

How Max Verstappen wins his first f1 race and goes home to show his girlfriend his trophy…and maybe something else too...

December 2024: 

Max brings his family home from the hospital and finally gets to give his fiancée a proper ring. 

Author Notes: Huge thanks to @llirawolf for holding my hand through this!

May 2016: 

The roar of the crowd was deafening, but Max Verstappen barely noticed. His ears were ringing, his chest felt tight, and his grip on the steering wheel had turned his knuckles white. He barely registered the voice of his race engineer crackling through his headset.

“Unbelievable. Unbelievable, Max.” 

The words didn’t feel real. 

“You are a race winner!”

It felt like they belonged to someone else’s story, someone older, more experienced—someone who wasn’t an 18-year-old kid still trying to figure out the enormity of it all. He blinked hard, trying to process the magnitude of what just happened.

The pit wall erupted in cheers as he drove toward the podium, his hands trembling on the wheel. It wasn’t just any win—it was the win. At 18 years and 227 days old, Max Verstappen had become the youngest race winner in Formula 1 history.

He had done it. 

As the team crowded around him in parc fermé, he couldn’t stop the grin spreading across his face. Christian Horner was there to hug him, Helmut Marko clapped him on the back, and Daniel Ricciardo tousled his sweat-soaked hair. The cameras flashed relentlessly, capturing every angle of his historic moment.

And still…the most important person was not there. 

Colette was back in Monaco. 

Hours later, once he finally got to his phone…after he was back in his hotel room, there was a message from her waiting for him. Of course, there was. 

I am so proud of you, Maxie. Soak up every moment, enjoy it. You deserve this, so, so much. We’ll celebrate when you are back home, mon coeur. You were amazing out there today and I love you so much. 

Somehow these 5 sentences meant more to him than any other accolade ever could. 

He stared at the trophy perched on his nightstand. The weight of it—both physical and symbolic—was overwhelming.

He’d spent years working for this moment. His entire life had been shaped around the pursuit of success, of proving he belonged on the top step of the podium. But now that he’d done it? He would give anything to share this moment with the girl he loved. 

Colette had been his constant long before Formula 1 entered the picture. She’d seen him at his worst, supported him when no one else believed in him, and always reminded him of who he was outside the car. 

She was his staunchest supporter and the first person that woul dcall hi out for being an idiot. 

She grounded him, cosetted him, cared for him, cheered for every win and held him after every failure. 

She was the one thing in his life that he could trust unconditionally…that loved him for who he was and not what he could do. 

Of course he had driven this car to victory. And Colettte would never take credit for any of his wins…but Max knew the truth. 

This win wasn’t just his—it was theirs.

The idea hit him in the early hours of the morning, somewhere between the adrenaline still coursing through his veins and the exhaustion pulling at his eyelids.

He needed to show her how much she meant to him, how much he wanted her to be part of this journey—not just as a girlfriend, but as his partner in everything that came next.

But how do you capture something so big?

By 7 a.m., Max was wandering the quiet streets of Barcelona. The city felt different in the early morning light—calm, peaceful. He had no real plan, just an address for a small jewellery store he’d googled hours before.

His Spanish wasn’t great, but he figured he could manage. He needed something. Something to show her just how much she meant to him.

He had bought his sister a handbag the first time he had scored points in F1…but handbag didn’t even come close to being enough for Colette. 

So there he was…in that jewelery store. 

The bell above the door jingled as he stepped inside, and a man behind the counter greeted him warmly, raising an eyebrow at the young man who looked like he hadn’t slept.

“You’re here for something important, aren’t you?” the man asked knowingly, his accent thick but his tone kind.

Max hesitated, glancing down at the glass cases filled with glittering jewellery. He’d never done anything like this before. He had never even bought Colette a pair of earrings on his own. He had bought her other stuff, of course he had. Birthday gifts and stuff for christmas but… “Yeah, uh... I need something… special. For my girlfriend.”

The man smiled knowingly and pulled out a tray of rings. “Something like this?” he asked, gesturing to a selection of delicate designs.

Max’s eyes landed on a gold band with a small, heart-shaped diamond. It wasn’t flashy or oversized—it was understated, elegant, and perfect.

Just like Colette. 

***

Hours later… Max was back in Monaco. 

The trophy tucked under his arm, bag thrown over his shoulder as he unlocked the door to their apartment. 

He wasn’t sure if Colette was already home from work…he hadn’t called ahead telling her either. 

“Max?” and there she was, already dressed in her pyjamas as she stared at him wide-eyed, coming out of the kitchen. 

“I won,” he blurted, grinning like a kid showing off a school project. 

THat was all he needed to say, before she was throwing herself in his arms. His bag hit the floor, as he hugged her and she kissed him, cupping his cheek, rapid fire french that he would never learn to understand as quickly as she spoke it, intermixed with english and her horribly accented dutch. 

And for just a moment Max got to hold his girlfriend…the best trophy he had ever won. 

“I am so proud of you, mon coeur,” Colette whispered and he leaned his forehead against hers, her words a balm to something that he didn’t even know. 

“I brought you something.”

Before she could say anything, he plopped the Pirelli cap on her head, by now dry, though it had been drenched in champagne by Kimi and Seb and he adjusted it until it sat crookedly over her brown curls. “There. Perfect,” he said, his voice raw. 

Perfect. 

Colette laughed, patting it down, and then pulled him into another kiss. “I am so proud. You were incredible this weekend,” she told him fiercely. “Shouldn’t you still be celebrating?” she teased him. 

“I am,” he said, his voice softening. “With you.”

Any celebration with her was better than any other. 

“You want to see the trophy?” he asked her, feeling like a little boy that dragged his karting trophy to Colette for her approval again. 

And just like she had suffered through every time of 12 year old Max showing his trophy off to her…18 year old Max did the same, handing it to her. 

She took it, a metal on metal clink rattling around the inside. 

“What’s...?” she started, tilting the trophy to look inside. Her breath caught, as she fished out the ring from the bottom of it. “Max...”

“It’s not an engagement ring,” he rushed to explain, his cheeks turning pink. “I mean, our fathers would probably kill us both if we got married right now. But it’s... it’s a promise.”

Colette carefully set the trophy down, her hands trembling as stared at the delicate gold ring in the palm of her hand. 

“I wanted you to know that it’s always going to be us,” Max said, his voice steady despite the nervous flutter in his chest. “Through everything. You and me. This is my promise to you.”

It was always going to be them. Always. 

“I don’t need a fancy piece of paper to tell me what I already know,” Max said softly. “I love you. And I’ll spend the rest of my life with you. In Sickness and In Health and however that whole thing goes.” 

Tears filled her eyes as she looked up at him, her lips trembling with a smile. “You’re ridiculous, you know that?”

He grinned. “Yeah, but you love me anyway.” 

Colette just looked at him, brown eyes warm and loving…and filled with tears. 

“I do. God, I do,” she promised him fiercely. “Go on then. Put it on me,” she teased him. 

His fingers were trembling when he picked up the ring and slid it on her finger. A perfect fit. Like he had somehow known. 

“This is going to be hard to top one day, you know,” Colette told him, wiggling her fingers, the diamond sparkling on her hand. “You do have exceptional taste in rings.”

Max chuckled, pulling her into a hug. “Challenge accepted.”

December 2024: 

The late December air was crisp as Max carefully carried the baby carrier through the front door of their apartment, his movements uncharacteristically slow. He was used to the precision of controlling a 200-mile-per-hour machine, but carrying his newborn daughter… was an entirely different level of responsibility.

Colette watched the whole thing with some amusement and a whole lot of love. Max had already driven so slowly home from the hospital that there had been multiple blaring car horns behind them, but Max hadn’t cared one bit about that. 

She was tired, her body aching from the delivery, but her heart was so full it threatened to burst.

“Welcome home, ma lutine,” she murmured softly, brushing her fingers over the baby’s tiny hand, as Max set the carrier down on the living room floor. 

Max crouched to unbuckle their daughter, who was snoozing peacefully despite the excitement of the day. “I think she’s already a Verstappen,” he said with a chuckle, glancing up at Colette. “Sleeps through the chaos, just like her dad.”

Colette laughed lightly, shaking her head. “We’ll see how long that lasts,” she teased him. “You gonna get the cats?” she asked.

Max nodded, moving towards the bedroom where he had put them just minutes before. 

Colette heard the door open and seconds later, she could feel two sets of feline eyes were already watching from the bedroom doorway —Jimmy, usually, the more laid back boy…and Sassy, the fierce girl with a name that fit her personality far too well.

“Okay, guys,” Colette murmured. “Be nice. She’s your baby sister now.”

Max crossed back over to them, crouching down beside the seat, unbuckling Charlie with ease, his movements careful and deliberate. “You think they’ll be jealous?” he asked, casting a quick glance at Jimmy and Sassy, who hadn’t moved but were clearly observing every detail.

“They’ll get over it,” Colette said with a soft laugh. “I think Sassy’s already plotting her strategy.”

Sure enough, as soon as Colette lifted Charlie into her arms, Sassy bounded down the stairs, tail high and ears forward. She paused a few feet away, her nose twitching as she sniffed the air. 

“Hi, Sassy,” Colette cooed, kneeling down to let the curious cat get a closer look. Sassy tiptoed forward, her tiny paws making no sound on the marble floor. She stopped just short of Colette’s knees and craned her neck, sniffing cautiously at the bundle in her arms.

Charlie let out a soft coo, her tiny fist waving in the air, and Sassy’s ears twitched forward in fascination. Then, in a move that made Colette’s heart melt, Sassy stretched up on her hind legs and gently tapped at the edge of the baby blanket, as if to say, What’s this?

“See? She’s already making friends,” Colette said, grinning as she stroked Sassy’s head.

Max, meanwhile, was coaxing Jimmy towards them. The cat was watching the scene with a skeptical look, his yellow eyes narrowed. “Come on, mate,” Max said, holding out his hand. “She’s not going to steal your spot. I promise.”

Jimmy hesitated for a moment before coming the last few steps. Unlike Sassy, who had no sense of personal space, Jimmy kept his distance at first, circling wide around Colette and Charlie as if evaluating whether this tiny human posed a threat to his kingdom.

“Jimmy, it’s okay,” Colette encouraged, holding out her hand toward him. “Come say hi.”

Eventually, Jimmy padded closer, his movements slow and deliberate. When he finally reached Colette, he sat down primly and stared up at Charlie, his expression one of cautious curiosity.

“She’s not so bad, right?” Max said, crouching down beside Jimmy and scratching behind his ears.

Charlie let out another soft noise, and Jimmy’s head tilted slightly, his ears swiveling to catch the sound. Then, to everyone’s surprise, he leaned forward and gave the edge of the baby blanket a tentative sniff, followed by a single, gentle nudge of his nose.

“Oh, Jimmy,” Colette said, her voice thick with emotion. “You’re such a good boy.”

Max laughed, the sound warm and full of love. “I think they’ve decided she can stay,” he said, wrapping an arm around Colette’s shoulders.

Later that evening, after Charlie had been fed and settled into the bassinet they’d placed in the living room, Colette found herself staring at the collection of trophies they kept on the shelves over the TV. Max’s career was neatly cataloged there— All the important wins, each moment of triumph immortalized in gleaming metal and glass.

Charlie stirred softly in her arms, and Colette pressed a kiss to the baby’s forehead before stepping closer to the shelves. “Do you see all these trophies, Charlie?” she whispered, swaying gently. “See? these are all Papa‘s,“ Colette cooed. “He has more. These are just the ones that are the most important to him. Your tonton Cha has some too…”

Her eyes slid over the championship trophy from last year…over to the very first one. It was a little scuffed from being handled so many times, but it still gleamed in the soft light of the room. “And this one…this one is extra special. This is from when Papa won his very first race. And do you know what else?” She smiled, her voice dropping conspiratorially. “This is where he hid a ring for me eight years ago.”

She glanced back at her daughter, but Charlie had already drifted back into her newborn sleep, oblivious to her mother’s musings. 

“You didn’t check, did you?” Max’s voice broke the quiet, startling her.

She turned to find him leaning casually in the doorway, his arms crossed and a knowing smirk on his face. He was still wearing the same hoodie and sweats he’d changed into after coming home from the hospital, but somehow, he looked effortlessly handsome.

“Check what?” she asked, feigning innocence.

“The trophy,” he said, nodding toward the one in her hand. “I’ve seen the way you’ve been eyeing it ever since we came home.”

Colette raised an eyebrow. “You tell a girl you hid her engagement ring in there, what did you expect, Verstappen,” she teased him. 

“You are right,” Max agreed seriously, with a nod, plucking Charlie from her arms to put her in the Moses Basket they had put next to the couch.

And then he plucked that trophy from the shelve, only to upend it until a velvet box came tumbling down. 

Colette’s breath caught as he flipped it open to reveal a stunning ring—a delicate gold band, not unlike the one he’d given her all those years ago, but this time, the diamond was much larger, more brilliant. It sparkled in the light, catching every angle perfectly.

Her free hand flew to her mouth as her eyes welled up with tears. “Max…”

“Shush. Let me do this right,” he teased her, as he got down on one knee. “I had this for months,” he told her. “I thought about giving it to you after the Monaco Grand Prix, then after the championship celebration, but none of those moments felt right. This—bringing Charlie home—this feels right.”

Colette could only nod, too overcome with emotion to speak.

“I know we’ve been doing things our own way,” he said with a small smile. “And I wouldn’t change a single thing. But this... this is my way of saying I’m all in, for the rest of my life. With you. With Charlie. With everything that comes next.”

Tears spilled down her cheeks as she finally found her voice. “You didn’t have to do this. You already gave me everything I ever wanted.”

“And now I’m giving you a little bit more,” he said seriously. “So. Colette Marie Eugénie Veronique Leclerc, will you do me the incredible honour of becoming my wife?”

“Yes,” she whispered. Max reached for her left hand, his fingers brushing over hers as he carefully slipped the ring onto her finger. It fit perfectly, just as she knew it would.

“You even got the order of my names right,” she teased him, as he stood up and he snorted as he pulled her into a hug. 

“Hush,” he gave back, pressing a kiss to her temple. 

They stood there for a moment, wrapped in each other’s arms, the trophy forgotten on the shelf and the ring gleaming on her finger.

In the bassinet, Charlie let out a tiny squeak, and they both turned to look at her, their smiles growing.

“She approves,” Colette said with a laugh.

Max chuckled, wrapping an arm around her shoulders. “Of course she does. She’s a Verstappen.”

As they sat down together, Colette resting her head against Max’s shoulder, they couldn’t help but marvel at the life they’d built. 

It had been a long journey to get here, but every step had been worth it.

[flwrkid14]

So is I alright if I ask this?

I've seen the post where everyone wants to be Tim's favorite, might I ask if you could combine it with the 'Tim will never be anyone's favorite' and the brain dead post spin off? I think it'd be super angst angsty if the bats realize tehy unitentionally screwed up with Tim.

Oh, this is such a good ask! and now I’m going to be feral about it, thank you. Combining all of those ideas? Buckle up because this is going to get angsty.

—

Tim Drake will never be anyone’s favorite.

He’s always known it, accepted it as fact, because it’s not just about how he’s never felt like anyone’s favorite—it’s about how he’s been conditioned to believe that no one could favor him. He spent so much of his life trying to make himself useful to the people around him, because if he couldn’t be loved, he could at least be needed. If they needed him, they’d have to keep him around, right?

So that’s what Tim became. The utility knife of the Batfamily. The glue, the fixer, the one who knew how to put everything back together even if no one ever thought to ask how he was holding up.

And if that meant sacrificing pieces of himself, so what? He was never anyone’s favorite. He had no illusion that anyone would fight for him, that he’d be prioritized. The mission came first. Gotham came first. Family was a distant second, if it ranked at all.

Then there’s Danny.

Danny doesn’t come in with the expectations or baggage the rest of the Bats have. Danny doesn’t know Tim as a placeholder Robin or a second chance or a stolen birthright. He knows Tim as Tim—sharp, exhausted, himself. And Danny thinks that’s amazing.

He says it, too, without hesitation. “You’re my favorite,” he says like it’s a fact. Like Tim has always been the first name on someone’s list.

And it’s such a foreign concept to Tim that his first reaction is suspicion. He doesn’t trust it—can’t trust it—because when has anyone ever favored him? Even when Danny shows time and again that he’s not going anywhere, that his affection for Tim is unconditional, Tim’s waiting for the other shoe to drop. For Danny to grow tired of him, to leave, to regret his words.

But Danny doesn’t. He stays.

And that’s where it all starts to unravel for the rest of the family.

They see it—the way Danny looks at Tim like he’s the most important person in the room. The way Tim slowly starts to relax around him, shedding the defensive, brittle edges he’s always carried with them. The way Danny makes it obvious—painfully obvious—that Tim is his favorite person.

It's then that it hits them.

None of them have ever made Tim feel that way.

They start noticing the cracks they’ve left in him, the ones they never saw because they were too busy leaning on Tim to hold them together. They think back to all the times Tim had been the one to put in the effort to maintain their relationships, the way he always came through for them when they needed him, but how little they ever did for him in return.

They see the way he hesitates when Danny shows him affection—how it catches Tim off guard every time, like he’s still waiting for it to be a trap. And the Bats realize they’ve conditioned Tim to expect exactly that.

It guts them.

Cass had always known, in the quiet way she read people, that Tim didn’t feel like he belonged. She saw it in the way he held himself—guarded, distant, bracing for rejection. She’d tried, in her small, subtle ways, to show him he mattered, but watching Danny with him now, she realized she hadn’t done enough, that there was so much more she could have done for him not to feel that way. She hadn’t known how deep the hurt ran, and the guilt settled heavy in her chest.

Danny... Danny treated him differently.

Dick, who always tried to be a good brother but never saw the way Tim’s shoulders tensed under the weight of being “good enough.” Jason, who hated him for wearing the Robin colors but never noticed how much Tim blamed himself for taking them in the first place. Bruce, who thought giving Tim responsibility was enough to show he cared, but never thought to give him unconditional support. Damian, who fought Tim at every turn but never realized how much Tim already hated himself for existing in a role Damian felt should have been his.

Even Steph, and Duke—all of them thought Tim was fine because Tim made himself fine. Because Tim was the one who fixed things, and none of them stopped to ask what he needed.

It becomes almost unbearable for them to watch Danny care for Tim, because Danny makes it look so easy. He loves Tim so openly, so obviously, that it highlights every way the family failed to do the same.

And Tim? Tim doesn’t even seem to know he deserves it.

It’s the wake-up call they all desperately needed but never wanted. They don’t know how to fix it. But watching Danny and Tim together, seeing the way Tim is finally beginning to believe he’s worthy of being loved, they know one thing for certain:

They can’t undo the past.

But maybe, if they try hard enough, they can make sure Tim never feels that way again.

[angelofthenight01]

A first step to believe

Wanda Maximoff x Reader

Hey, guys! So, I'm new here and I've decided to start posting some short stories I wrote of characters I like. I hope you enjoy!

genre: fluff || warnings: none

You had always been a quiet observer in the background, preferring to stay out of the limelight, especially with someone as powerful and captivating as Wanda Maximoff around. You worked with her on several occasions in the Avengers compound—whether it was helping with strategy or assisting in the tech department—but you never quite felt like you belonged in her world.

She was magic and mystery incarnate. Her powers, her strength, her vulnerability... all tangled up in that red aura that surrounded her. You, on the other hand, were just... you. A normal human with a special skill set, not even close to the god-like powers Wanda wielded.

But something had changed over the last few weeks. You’d caught her eyes a few times—just for a brief moment—and there was something there. Something soft. Something that hinted at a longing you couldn’t quite interpret.

It started on one particularly quiet evening in the compound. The rest of the team had scattered for some downtime, and you found yourself in the kitchen, making tea to unwind. Your hands trembled slightly from the long day of troubleshooting tech issues, and you were looking forward to a peaceful moment alone.

But as you poured the hot water into your mug, the door creaked open.

“Mind if I join you?” Wanda’s voice was soft, a lilting accent tinged with something that made your heart skip a beat.

“Of course,” you said, offering a small smile. “I was just about to make some tea.”

She stepped into the room, a flicker of hesitation passing over her features. Her eyes—those impossibly deep, captivating eyes—met yours. You could see the exhaustion in her posture, the weight of the past few missions still lingering on her.

“You look like you could use a moment,” you added, hoping she wouldn’t take it the wrong way.

She hesitated, and for a second, you thought she might decline and retreat to the solitude she so often sought. Instead, she gave you a small smile and nodded. “I could use the company.”

You poured her a cup and passed it over, your fingers brushing for a brief moment. Wanda’s gaze lingered on your hand, and then she met your eyes again, her smile softening just a bit. There was an unspoken connection between you, something that had only grown stronger with time.

The silence between you two was comfortable, not awkward. You both sipped your tea, and you found yourself slowly relaxing in her presence.

“I’ve been thinking,” Wanda said suddenly, her voice low. “About... about everything. All the things I’ve done. The things I can do.”

You swallowed, trying to keep the nervous flutter in your chest from taking over. You knew exactly what she meant. Her powers, her trauma, her inner turmoil. It had been a lot for her to bear, especially after everything she had gone through with the Mind Stone, and the aftermath of everything that happened with Vision.

“You’ve been through a lot,” you said gently, meeting her gaze. “But that doesn’t define you, Wanda. You’re so much more than the pain and the power.”

Wanda’s lips parted as though she were about to say something, but she stopped herself. Her gaze drifted away for a moment before returning to you, this time with a look that was almost unreadable.

“I’m not sure I can believe that,” she whispered.

You set your cup down and took a step closer. “You don’t have to believe it all at once. But I do.”

Her breath caught in her throat. The air between you was thick with something unspoken, something that both of you seemed afraid to give voice to. It was like a thread, fragile and delicate, waiting to be pulled. You could feel her uncertainty, but you also felt the quiet yearning in her eyes.

Slowly, you reached out, your hand resting lightly on her arm. She tensed at the touch, but you didn’t pull away. Instead, you gave her a reassuring smile.

“I’m here for you,” you said, voice steady, but soft. “Whatever you need.”

Wanda’s eyes softened as she looked at you, and for a moment, time seemed to stop. The world outside the compound, with all its dangers and distractions, faded away. It was just the two of you, standing in the quiet kitchen, surrounded by the warmth of the tea and the gentle hum of the compound around you.

“I don’t know what I’m doing anymore,” she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper.

You stepped even closer, your heart hammering now. “You don’t have to have it all figured out. We can figure it out together.”

Wanda looked at you, really looked at you, as though seeing you for the first time. And in that moment, you knew something had shifted between you both.

The tension in the air seemed to crackle with possibility. Slowly, almost imperceptibly, she leaned in. Your breath caught in your throat as her lips brushed lightly against yours.

It was soft. Simple. Tentative, even. But it was enough to send a shock of warmth through your entire body.

When she pulled away, her eyes were full of wonder and uncertainty. “Are you sure about this?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

You cupped her face gently in your hands, your thumb brushing across her cheekbone. “I’m sure.”

And for the first time in a long while, Wanda allowed herself to believe it, too.

[noxiatoxia]

Been seeing this go around and it makes me so sad...

"Hinata was normal up until around middle school, and he was even excelling in classes and sports. But because of this, it worsened this idea in his head that he was someone special who could achieve his hopes and dreams."

And I think this makes Hinata especially tragic. It hits home for me and I feel a lot of normal people. Being good, but not good enough that it matters. Being the best in your class doesn't mean anything to the world. You're almost there but not quite yet. It's maddening.

I think Hinata's upbringing has a lot to do with it.

About the same level of canon-ness as this tweet, Spike said this about Hinata's parents.

I think Hinata thinks what he does mostly because of his parents. They consented to the Kamukura project after all. They were not happy that their son was just average. We see all throughout SDR2 that what Hinata wants isn't talent. It's to feel confident. That he belongs. Talent is just a means to that end. Because if he's exceptional, he'll have something that makes him worthwhile. That's what his parents taught him, directly or indirectly.

Compare it to the Naegi siblings. Makoto and Komaru do not envy talent. They are impressed by it, and they sometimes lement how normal they are, but it is no skin off their back. I think it's because they grew up happy. They clearly had good parents and a good life. Becoming the best wasn't either of their goals, because they weren't taught that's what it takes to deserve love.

It's tragic. Hinata was a perfectly average - above average even - person. But everyone around him wanted him to be more, so he wanted to be more.

SDR2 and DR3 both hint that he used to get bullied in school. This definitely contributed, I think.

Hinata didn't want to be himself, because he wasn't good enough as himself, and that meant he couldn't be happy. He knew what the Kamukura project would do to him. He didn't care. Because it was better than being himself.

You could call it arrogance. In part, it is. But all I see is a kid who was damaged by his upbringing trying to fix it all. If he was shown more kindness and love in his life by his parents or other adults, I think it would have turned out differently. If Hinata didn't have these values instilled in him from those around him and the world itself, none of this would have happened.

And considering he was just fine as he was, it's incredibly sad.

[imujings]

Talk Talk by Charli xcx gives me so much vernon vibes!! every time i listen to it i just make up a little scenario with him in it! CONGRATS ON 100 FOLLOWERS!!💗

but we've been keepin' this a secret and you're surrounded by friends and i'm just wonderin' what they know

wc <1k. warnings some cursing, party scene, suggestive (mentions of mutual masturbation, allusions to sex lol), petnames (babe), situationship. jay’s musings thank u ml :,) here is buzz cut vernon for u!!

The bass of the music makes your ears ring, vibrations reverberating through your nerves down to the bone. It’s blinding here in the club, the neon lights hurting your eyes and forcing you to squint through the heavy smoke filled air. Your drink sloshes around in your cup unsettlingly.

Your outfit feels a little bit too tight, like you can’t get enough air, and you try to steady your breath. There was no more time for feeling self-conscious. You were on a mission tonight—no matter how much you usually hated this kind of scene, you were determined to see it through.

Or rather, see him through.

You hear him before you spot him. It’s embarrassing, really, how your body reacts to the stimuli that is his presence. The music gets a little duller, the lights a little dimmer, and your senses become heightened. Laughter that could belong to no one other than Chwe Hansol reaches your ears, clear and resolute.

He’s standing around people you can only assume are his friends—there’s so many of them it only makes the situation even more overwhelming. One in particular is leaning against Hansol, his arms wrapped around the man’s bicep, and something in your heart stirs.

Flashes of green alight your vision, and only by blinking do you realize it’s caused by the club lights rather than the jealousy curling in on itself inside of you.

Hansol and you were, for lack of a better term, talking.

You two had met on a dating app a little while ago, swapping movie recommendations and indulging in jokes about how the world has gone to shit. Conversation between you two was easy, light; he never made anything feel forced and it left you reeling every time a notification popped up on your lock screen.

However, what did leave you frustrated was his poor attempts at hiding that he was making any excuse possible not to see you.

You asked to grab some coffee downtown at a new place that opened up? He was coincidentally quitting coffee for awhile. You wanted to go see the screening of a newly released movie? He already made plans to see it with some of his other friends. Every offer to meet up in person was shot down, not unkindly, by the man.

And quite frankly, you were tired of it.

You wished—no, craved—that he would just talk to you about what he was so seemingly afraid of. It was evident that he harbored enough care for you to send you updates about his life, from a reel he found funny to what retirement plan he wants to follow.

That, and he would FaceTime you during after hours, spent from long days at his work but still awake enough to hear you whine about goodness knows what. There were even nights that ended in you gasping for breath, your fingers sticky from your release, Hansol’s own groans echoing softly through the speakers of your phone.

“I wish I was there with you,” you murmured once after such an intimate moment. “To touch you. Make you feel as good as you make me feel.”

He was silent on the end of the line for a breath, before his voice, still shaky and low intoned, came through the call. “One day. Promise, yeah?”

That was maybe two weeks before tonight. Hansol, of course, then rejected your attempt to ask him out to dinner, saying he was out of the state at the time visiting family.

Convenient, wasn’t it?

When you heard that he was attending a party this weekend, one hosted by someone you recognized as a mutual friend, you practically begged your bestfriend to let you tag along.

So, here you were, looking dumbfounded at the man only a few feet in front of you.

His buzz cut looked better on him than it did in the pictures. You knew he had gotten one, him excitedly sending you selfies of before and after—it was the most wound up you’d seen him since the initial conversation you two had about Star Wars. But you didn’t think that his new hairstyle, paired with a silver chain and thin white tank, would instantly make heat churn in your lower stomach.

Focus, you remind yourself.

Taking a deep breath to recollect yourself, you walk with purpose towards him. His friends take notice of you first, their eyes widening, and the one that’s wrapped around Hansol’s arm backs away slightly.

His eyes meet yours, and time stands still.

“Hello,” you drawl, leaning into his personal space as you blink up at him with what you hope is a charming smile. “Fancy seeing you here.”

Hansol’s mouth is parted, eyebrows raised, his eyes drinking in your club outfit and the way the light reflects in your dilated pupils. He swallows. Hard.

“Hey,” he says, arm reaching around your waist and giving your hip a squeeze. “Didn’t know you’d be here.”

Your lips curl into a smirk and you slowly trace a fingernail along his knuckles. “Yeah. Heard of it and wanted to see what the commotion was all about.”

“Not much commotion until now.” Hansol’s hand doesn’t stop his ministrations, making you hum as your body moves on its own to press against his.

Your eyes catch the way his jaw tightens imperceptibly. A giggle slips past you.

“I’ve been wanting to finally meet you in person,” you pinch his bicep. “You keep escaping my traps.”

Hansol’s eyes, wild and wide, flicker around to see if anyone is watching you two. When his gaze meets yours again, it’s dark.

“Well, I’m here now. Wanna get out of here?”

You toss your head back into the air and laugh, a sound that makes Hansol tighten his grip on you and grin at.

“To do what? Talk about why you’re avoiding me?” you tease.

He leans in close, breath tickling your ear.

“Nah, babe. We’ll talk later. Gotta show you just how lucky I am first.”

want to queue a song?

[snoopyhughes]

it's you, it's you, it's really all for you (nh13)

Happy winter fic exchange @puckology101 !!! For the plot I had in mind, I didn't think a Swiss Alps trip was realistic but I hope this does the trick. I tried to detail the beautiful Banff scenery as best as I could (especially for someone who has never been!) so I hope you could truly envision that.

As always, @wyattjohnston Demi thank you so much for hosting this event for our community!

This is 2k+ words, I don't believe there's any mentions of any defining traits but I have not done a thorough check to ensure that this is safe for all to read. If you would like me to do that, shoot me a message and I'm more than willing to double check.

Title from Video Games by Lana del Rey (the live version, iykyk) this is loosely edited!

Nico Hischier, in hind sight, was thrilled that Switzerland was not a part of the four nations tournament. His logical, captain sense knows that he should want to play hockey all the time, work on his game, and he does really love international play. However, he needed a break. The high powered, adrenaline filled season had taken a toll on his body and his mental capacity.

But deep down, he was thrilled. Because that means he gets to go on a trip with his best friend, Y/N. When some of the guys who weren't going to four nations decided to get a group together and take a trip to Banff, complete with skiing, the beautiful winter scenery, and two hot tubs on the property, he jumped on the opportunity, even faster when he knew Y/N could come with.

Dawson insisted that he invited his girlfriend because he promised her a trip on the all star break but she ended up not being able to go. Soon enough, almost all of the guys were inviting their partners, save for Luke who insisted on bringing his best friend Dylan Duke, never one for formalities with girls.

Nico was chronically single, but always by choice. He does not have enough fingers and toes to count the amount of times he's tried to show you how much he loves you, more than a friend, but it never works. Either you're lovingly clueless or you don't feel the same way, the latter causing a pit in his stomach. That being said, Nico will always pick you as his plus one to pretty much anything. If you ever suggest that he find a real date, someone who he might want to be romantically involved with, he shrugs it off immediately, letting you know that "he doesn't have time for a relationship right now" and that "you make him happier than any relationship ever could."

Everything leading up to the trip was relatively smooth. The private jet flight (that you'd never get used to) was like flying on a resort, you were able to get time off work with no problem, and even the packing didn't seem like as much of a chore as it usually does. But things started getting interesting as soon as you, Nico, and the group made it to the ski resort. You always knew you'd be sharing a room, that much never bothered you. You'd shared hotel rooms with him before, having not been a first timer on an all star break trip, which is essentially what this was. Coincidentally, all of the people on the trip ended up with rooms right next to each other. When you opened the door, you saw one huge king bed staring right at you.

You and Nico shared a look, assuming that your room may have gotten mixed up with the others. Sure enough, when you knocked on everyone's door, they all had the same set up as you. The only room with two beds on the floor, it seemed, belong to Luke and Dylan. You thought of asking them to switch, but you could only imagine Luke's dramatics and theatrics if you tried to suggest switching rooms.

"It really doesn't bother me, Y/N. As long as it doesn't bother you, I'm fine with it. Besides, did you see the size of that bed? It could probably fit a third person in there also." You really didn't know why you were so nervous. Of course, you had known you had feelings for Nico. But you always felt that Nico could never have any feelings for you. You had watched Nico flirt with girls in the bar after games, even on the trips you went on, awkwardly tagging along on his side. It was the same way he flirted with you sometimes. It made you feel like you were just another girl for him to flirt with. He had a naturally flirty personality, and you were just another person who came in contact with that.

As you opened the door to the bedroom again, accepting your fate, you took a second to look around and truly take in the room. You were amazed at what you saw. When you first walked into the room, you could clearly see the bathroom, with a jacuzzi tub and a waterfall shower, and even a double vanity sink. In addition to the huge bed, there was a massive TV set up across from it, some of the softest towels you've ever countered in your life, and a huge glass sliding door. When you moved the curtains, you couldn't help the gasp that had came over your mouth.

Nico had seen tons of beautiful mountain scenery in his lifetime, growing up in Switzerland. He had seen the mountains, the snow, all of it. And sure, you had seen snow. It was usually tinged with grey and brown, tire tracks and footprints ruining its true beauty. This, this pure, unaltered beauty of the mountain scene in Banff, it took your breath away. Nico couldn't help but smile, seeing your pure joy, watching the breath get stolen from your mouth as you observed the scenes around you.

"Nico this is... wow," you gasped, leaning in when he wrapped his arm around you, feeling him rest his head atop of yours. Your heart fluttered, feeling like you were meant to be here. "You're my best friend," you smiled nuzzling into his side. "Yeah, my best friend."

You should've known with the room situation that the guys were up to something. After all, Dawson insisted on booking the rooms, saying that Nico deserved a break from his "captain duties," causing Nico to rebut that "booking rooms on a vacation is hardly a 'captain's duty.'" But when you turned away from the mountains, you were beginning to discover that it was possible that you and Nico had gotten the "honeymoon suite." You had your own private hot tub on the deck of your room, the first floor patio backing up into a beautiful mountain scene. You imagined snow falling onto your face and hair as you and Nico lounged in the hot tub together. Your cheeks heat up at the thought, causing you to pull away from Nico. You couldn't allow yourself to get too caught up in the what ifs. If Nico really wanted to make a move on you, he would make a move, not the same move he had made hundreds of other times.

You found yourself in your bathroom getting ready with the other girls that were on the trip. Nico had already gotten ready and was downstairs at the bar drinking with the guys. Since you had gotten in to the resort after 5, you knew no skiing would be happening, so you made reservations at a nice restaurant in downtown Banff.

"So, how's it going with you and Nico? Do you like the room?" Dawson's girlfriend giggling, nudging you in the side. "I knew that couldn't have been accidental. Dawson seemed way too excited watching me trying to figure out how to unlock the room door," you laughed, nudging her right back. "It's so foolish. You both clearly love each other, but neither of you will make a move. It makes no sense. If you guys won't do it, someone else had to try it." You sighed, putting the cap on your lip gloss.

"I know what you mean, but I really don't think Nico likes me back. He acts the same way with every other girl he's come across. If Nico really wants to be with me, I want him to make it known, make it obvious. Do something that lets me know that it's me only, not me and the girls at the bar, not me and the girls who wait for him after games, just me." Whether you realized it or not, the other girls were silently taking notes, and as soon as you went to the bathroom at dinner, they told Nico.

When you arrived with the girls at the restaurant, you learned the guys were already waiting at a table. Nico's eyes lit up when he saw you, smiling wide and blushing at your prolonged eye contact. As you came closer to the table, he took a step toward you, pulling you into a hug. His large hand ran along your back as he pulled you in close, causing goosebumps to raise up your arms and on the back of your neck.

"You look absolutely stunning," he whispered in your ear, causing your cheats to heat up, a smile just as big as Nico's. Nico only pulled away to pull your chair out for you, again causing your cheeks to heat up, the girlfriends smiling around you, although you had genuinely no idea because you couldn't stop staring at Nico.

They wondered how you couldn't see how much he cared for you, more than anyone, especially any other girl. Even the guys could see how much he cared for you. The girls understood deep down, knowing how difficult it can be to be able to fully trust a man, especially if you had been hurt in the past by one. Because yes, they were taking notes to share with Nico. But they really didn't need to. And everything they told him, he already knew.

He knew exactly where you'd want to eat, knowing that you craved your comfort food when you were tired. It was the perfect place to eat after a travel day, and getting to the hotel when it was already dark. He knew your preferred seating choice, and of course he knew that you would want a table with a view of the mountains. He didn't care how much it cost him, or that he had to name drop himself (and Luke) to get the table with the view. All that mattered was that he could sit across from you, and watch you admire the view, while he admired you, which was really all that mattered to him.

And nothing felt more perfect than when the rest of the couples started either making their way back to the resort or to the next stop on their drinking trip down the Main Street in Downtown, you and Nico stayed. The two of you stayed, his hand softly brushing yours as you talked, him with his back to the window, taking that spot specifically so that you could see the scenery. And even as everyone left, leaving the two of you at the table alone, all he wanted to do was look at you. The way you smiled, the way your eyes crinkled at the corners when you laughed, even the soft yawn you let out towards the end of the night made him smile, his cheeks hurting at the end of the night.

When the uber dropped you two off at the resort at the end of the night, Nico held the door open for you, helping you back into the room. When he moved from the front of your view and you saw what he had done, you couldn't stop the gasp from coming from your mouth. How he had done it while being at the restaurant and you being the last to leave the room, you truly didn't know. But you didn't need the logistics, because it all settled in for you.

It's you. It's always you. It always has been, and always will be. The most beautiful bouquets of your favorite flowers sat around the room, no flower petals on the floor because you both agreed that that was impractical. A bucket of champagne sat cooling right by the glass doors that outlooked the view, the most perfect view. It was then you realized that it was more than Dawson who picked this room, it was Nico, wanting to share the space with you. It was Nico who knew how much you'd love the view. It's Nico. It always has been, and it always will be.

When your eyes locked from across the room, your eyes finally looking up at his, which you knew had been on yours the whole time, you couldn't cross the room fast enough. And when your lips locked with his, everything else floated away. It was like nothing else mattered. As the snow fell in the background just behind you, you knew that it didn't matter where you were, and it didn't matter who came in the way. It was always you.

[ruewritesoccasionally]

The Reunion Pt.2 | Aaron Pierre

Pairing: Aaron Pierre x Black Reader

Warnings: none

Word Count: 1.4K

Chapter summary: Moving like the soulmates they are, Aaron's conversation with Marcus mirrors YNs with some thoughts of his own but will he act on them?

a/n: this is more of a filler chapter - i'm still thinking about the direction i wanna take things in but let me know how you think things are shaping up so far

Aaron woke up to the grey light of morning peeking through his curtains, the dull ache of sleep deprivation settling behind his eyes. Last night’s reunion lingered in his mind like a persistent hum, replaying moments he hadn’t asked to remember. He threw an arm over his eyes and sighed deeply, as if he could exhale the weight pressing against his chest.

He had managed to keep his composure the entire evening, but it was moments like these, alone in his flat with nothing but his thoughts for company, that the cracks began to show. He’d watched YN all night—not in an obvious way, but enough to catch the moments that mattered. The way she threw her head back when she laughed. The way her fingers lightly brushed her date’s arm as she introduced him. Trey. Of course, his name had to be Trey. Aaron had greeted the man with a handshake and a polite smile, but every fibre of his being had tensed as he’d watched YN’s hand rest comfortably in his.

It wasn’t jealousy—at least, not in the traditional sense. Aaron wasn’t the type to covet what didn’t belong to him. It was something deeper. A quiet frustration. A longing he couldn’t quite articulate. He’d seen YN with other men before, celebrated her happiness even when it wasn’t with him. But no matter who she dated, no matter how happy she looked, there was always this quiet, nagging thought in the back of his mind: It should’ve been me. Not because he thought he deserved her more than anyone else, but because he knew her. Knew her better than they ever could.

Aaron sat up in bed, rubbing a hand over his face before reaching for his phone. He hesitated for a moment, his thumb hovering over YN’s contact. He tapped it, not to call, but to look at the photo he’d saved. It was from a trip their friend group had taken to the coast a few years back. She was laughing, the sunlight catching her face just right. It was his favourite picture of her, one she’d never know he held onto so tightly.

A notification popped up on his screen, breaking him out of his reverie. It was a message from Marcus.

Marcus: “Coffee? You look like you’ll need it.”

Aaron smirked, shaking his head before typing out a quick reply.

Aaron: “On my way.”

At the café, Marcus was already seated at their usual table, a cup of black coffee in front of him. Aaron slid into the seat across from him, ordering his own drink with a nod to the server.

“You look rough,” Marcus said, leaning back in his chair with a knowing smirk.

Aaron chuckled dryly. “Good to see you too, bro.”

Marcus waited until Aaron had taken a sip of his coffee before speaking again. “So, how long are you going to keep this up?”

Aaron frowned. “Keep what up?”

Marcus raised an eyebrow. “You know what I’m talking about. YN.”

Aaron leaned back, letting out a long breath. “There’s nothing to keep up, Marcus. She’s with Trey now.”

“Oh, come on,” Marcus said, rolling his eyes. “You’ve been circling her for years. Don’t act like you don’t feel something.”

Aaron stared into his coffee, his jaw tightening. “It’s not that simple.”

“It never is, but you’re making it harder than it needs to be.” Marcus leaned forward, his tone softening. “Bro, we’ve all seen it. The way you look at her. The way she looks at you. Everyone’s rooting for you two, even if we stopped saying it out loud. But if you don’t make a move soon, you’re going to watch her settle with someone else. And you’ll only have yourself to blame.”

Aaron’s chest tightened at the thought. The idea of YN with someone else, not just dating but settling, was a punch to the gut. But it wasn’t just fear holding him back. It was the weight of their history. They’d seen each other through everything—the highs, the lows, the in-betweens. They’d celebrated each other’s wins, mourned each other’s losses, and shared countless memories. How do you risk all of that for the chance at something more?

“What if it goes wrong?” Aaron finally said, his voice quieter now. “What if I ruin everything?”

“What if it goes right?” Marcus countered. “What if she’s waiting for you to make the first move? You’re a smart guy, Aaron, but you’re overthinking this. Just talk to her.”

Aaron sighed, running a hand through his hair. “It’s not just about me. She’s with Trey now. I can’t just step in and—”

“And what? Tell her how you feel? Bro, she deserves to know the truth, doesn’t she?”

Aaron didn’t respond right away. He stared out the window, watching the people passing by. He wanted to believe Marcus was right. That there was still a chance. But the fear of losing her, of losing everything they’d built, was a heavy weight to bear.

“I’ll think about it,” Aaron finally said.

Marcus shook his head with a small laugh. “You’ve been thinking about it for years. Maybe it’s time to do something.”

Later that night, Aaron sat in his living room, the silence almost deafening. He leaned back in his chair, the ghost of a smile tugging at his lips as memories flickered through his mind. He’d been there when she’d landed her first job straight out of university, the way she’d screamed and danced around the room when the offer came through. He remembered the late nights helping her prepare for interviews, quizzing her with mock questions, and watching her confidence bloom. He’d celebrated her wins like they were his own, the pride swelling in his chest as if her success was a reflection of his own. He even remembered the celebratory dinner he’d taken her out for when she got her first raise—how the dim lighting and easy conversation made it feel more like a date than a platonic outing. He’d laughed off the waiter’s assumption that they were a couple, but the warmth in her cheeks and the way she avoided his eyes for the rest of the night stayed with him longer than he cared to admit.

But she’d been there for him too. She was there when his grandmother passed, holding him through the quiet devastation that followed. She never pushed him to talk, never forced him to share more than he could handle—she was just there, her presence steady, like an anchor when he felt adrift. It was always the little things she did, the subtle acts of care that left an impression—showing up with food when he couldn’t bring himself to eat, sending texts just to check in, or simply sitting beside him in silence until he was ready to speak.

He swallowed hard, the weight of those memories pressing against his chest. How many times had he wished she was more than his best friend? How many nights had he lain awake, replaying moments when he could have said something, done something—anything—to shift the trajectory of what they were? But every time, the fear of losing her, of tarnishing the purity of what they had, kept him silent. He knew her inside out, her quirks and dreams, the way her brow furrowed when she was deep in thought, the laugh she reserved for things that truly delighted her. And yet, knowing her so well only made it harder. How could he risk ruining something so irreplaceable?

And then there was the nagging thought he could never quite shake: if they were so perfect on paper, why hadn’t they collided in real life? Maybe it was fate, or maybe they were cowards. Either way, it left him aching with the question that lingered every time he saw her: “What if?”

He picked up his phone, scrolling through his messages until he found YN’s name. His thumb hovered over the keyboard, words forming and dissolving in his mind. He wanted to say something, anything, but the courage wouldn’t come.

Instead, he opened their chat history, scrolling through old messages. Some were funny, others mundane, but all of them carried the weight of their bond. He stopped at a message she’d sent a few months ago: “Thanks for always being there, Aaron. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

He closed his eyes, the ache in his chest growing heavier. He didn’t know what he’d do without her either. But for now, all he could do was wait—and hope that one day, the timing would finally be right.

taglist: @writingsbytee @venusincleo @nickidub718

comments and reblogs are appreciated as well as feedback, i hope you liked it 🫶🏾🫶🏾🫶🏾

[emsdevs]

Jack, Do You Think About Me?

a/n: this has been a thought in my head since this song came out! here's a little jack x famous singer!reader inspired by noah by megan moroney. enjoy :)

You and Jack had gotten together the summer after you both turned seventeen. Your relationship was good, but good wasn’t always enough. You’d skip class together, riding around in his car, blasting “Record Year” by Eric Church. You were completely his, but he didn’t belong to you, not really. When he got drafted, he made the decision that your relationship should end, so you both decided to live out your last summer together before ultimately calling it quits the day before he got on a plane to New Jersey. 

Now, it had been years since you had seen him. You checked on him every once in a while, through the internet or mutual friends. You wanted the best for him, and he’d always own a piece of your heart. You couldn’t let him have all of it anymore though. You had met a nice guy, just a couple of years older than you, at your job. You were fresh out of college and quite nervous, but he had helped you settle in. Before long, you and the guy, Liam, had realized there was a spark between the two of you. He asked you out, and a few nights later you found yourself on a dinner date with him. Liam was great, but somewhere in the back of your mind, you knew he wasn’t Jack.

Not long after you and Liam officially got together, you decided to pursue your dreams and started uploading covers and your own songs to YouTube. After just a couple of months, you had gotten discovered and signed a deal with a record label. Liam was right there with you, supporting you through it all, but you couldn’t help but think about when Jack would tell you he’d never heard a voice more beautiful than yours. Now you’re touring, and it’s affecting your relationship with Liam. 

“I never see you anymore. I just… I thought I could handle this, but I need someone who can be here. I can’t settle down with a girl who lives on a tour bus,” Liam seemed exhausted, and you were tired of arguing with him, especially after that last comment.

“Fine, you can find your way to the airport I assume, then?”

“Yeah. I’ll get outta your hair.”

That night, after your tears dried up, you did what you did best, write. Just hours later, you were looking at a song called “Break It Right Back” that summed up how you were feeling about your entire relationship. When your band met with you to practice the next day, you threw it into the mix with some of your other unreleased songs, letting them get a feel for how you pictured the melody sounding. You’d be performing in Buffalo, New York later that night, and you planned to debut it as a surprise song on the setlist. It would likely stay for the next few shows, just until you got all the feelings out.

Four nights later, you were playing Madison Square Garden, but unbeknownst to you, a certain boy you used to consider a brother dragged your ex and half of their hockey team to the VIP section of your show. You had made it to the halfway point, walking around the stage and interacting with fans. That’s when you see him, Jack Hughes, the boy you had never really gotten over. You locked eyes with him (the VIP section was rather close to the stage at your shows), and everything came rushing back. You continued on with the show, trying to play it off and act like you were fine, but all of that changed when it was time to play the surprise song. Originally, like in the past three shows, you were planning to play “Break It Right Back”, but something stopped you. You could feel his eyes on you, and you knew you had to try one last time. You stopped your band and began to give the audience a little speech.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I just… We were supposed to play “Break It Right Back” right now, but I feel like I should perform another song for you guys. I uhh… I wrote this song a while back. It’s about an ex of mine. We were um… we were together for about a year in high school, but our lives led us in different directions. So yeah, um… this one’s called “Noah”, and yes, I changed the guy’s name. So no one go searching for someone named Noah that you think I dated because I didn’t,” you tried to joke a little at the end, attempting to calm your nerves. Your band knew the song and started playing it perfectly. You couldn’t look anywhere near Jack, terrified of what his reaction might be. Soon, you were at the bridge, and your eyes were briefly drawn to his before you started singing, “It’s more problematic than it is innocent and sweet. You’re more like a secret I wish I didn’t have to keep, and I bet by now you’ve found somebody new. I did too, but when I lie down next to him sometimes I’d rather it be with you.” 

You finished the song, still not daring to glance Jack’s way, and then you reveled in the cheers from the audience, who had clearly enjoyed you performing a never-before-heard song. 

Once the show was finished, you went back to your dressing room after sharing a hug with your band and vocalists. You took a breath, letting yourself calm down from the adrenaline rush you still get from performing. A moment later, you hear a knock on the door. Assuming it’s your manager, you tell them to come in, but you’re shocked to see a gaggle of hockey players huddled in the doorway. The two in the front stand out the most to you though. You’d be able to recognize a Hughes brother anywhere, and now there were two right in front of you. Luke decides he’s done wasting time, quickly moving forward and engulfing you in a hug. All of the boys, even the ones you had never met, gave you their congratulations and told you how much they enjoyed the show. It wasn’t long before Luke was coming up with an excuse to usher everyone but Jack out of the room, hoping you two could work things out. 

“You did great out there,” Jack started the conversation.

“Thanks. I guess I have to come watch you play hockey now, huh?” you chuckle, trying to diffuse the tension.

“Did you write that song about me?” Jack cut to the chase, tired of dancing around the subject.

“Jack- I… If it bothers you, I won’t release it, and I’ll never perform it again. I just needed to let you know how I felt when I saw you in the audience.”

“It doesn’t bother me, I swear. It makes me happy. I think about you a lot. Honestly, I don’t know that I ever got over you, and the biggest mistake of my life was not even trying to make the distance work with you.”

“Hey, it’s okay. We both needed to grow on our own. Look at where we both are, living our dreams. If we didn’t break up, I probably wouldn’t be here, and your game is so good right now! Please don’t feel bad,” you tried to reassure him.

“Do you uhh… Do you think we could try again? I mean- I know you’re on tour right now, and I’m just on a short break before games start back again. But I need you around again. I really think we could make it work this time.”

“I think we could make it work too, J. How about we start out slow okay? Get to know each other again?”

“I can work with that,” Jack breathed out a sigh of relief, wrapping you in a hug. Both of you were happy to be revisiting something that made you both so happy. You didn’t know if Jack would be your forever, but you’re content to work together with him to see if he would be. At least now you could think about him without feeling guilty.

taglist: @heartsforjh @fofiquierellorar @justxpaulina @alex-wotton @devilinpradaheels @puckmedude

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[vaguely-concerned]

severing the connection of the titans to themselves, each other and their children, to the world, and with it severing the connection of the dwarves to their true nature, the basic state of love and belonging that should be their birthright. ("our children, orphaned".) severing the connection between rook and the reality and true memory of varric, and thus from themselves and their own healing grief AND love. (do we spot the echo, perhaps?) severing (mostly accidentally this time, I'll give him that) the connection between the fade and the real world, dream and reality.

the scale we're operating on varies from the mythic, the cosmic and existential, to the individual and deeply, nauseatingly intimately personal, but it's the same pattern every time. solas keeps committing the same act of enforced dissociation, of creating orphaned pain that cannot even know itself, estranged from its own history, origins and coherence, unhealable in being impossible to recognize for what it is and thus unreachable. (hello lucanis in the minrathous saved route btw. this theme echoes everywhere when you look for it. I do love this game.) making others strangers to themselves for his own purposes and being surprised when it blows up in his face horrifically once more even when it's his same indelible original sin repeated, again and again and again. dissociation is a natural process the mind uses to protect itself from unbearable pain, but to knowingly cause that in someone, to play around with their connection to themselves and reality so fundamentally, to further your own cause... yeah, I'm not surprised the fabric of the world keeps tearing apart in protest in response to that, there's something so unspeakably insidiously wrong about it. forget snacking down on apples and knowing yourself to be naked or whatever, that sounds like a perfectly blameless if presumably slightly chilly afternoon to me -- force-feeding someone else their own fragmentation for your own gain, however ostensibly worthy your final goal, feels much closer to what real sin would be to me. and even worse because *buries face in hands* he just keeps doing it!!! he should know better, but he keeps doing it!!!!!!

I know I keep joking that solas only has the like three basic moves he keeps rearranging to invent new and spectacular ways of doubling down on making the same mistake yet again, but looking at it like this it's almost not even funny anymore haha. (almost. there is a hysterical amusement and affection that rises within me every time I see his smug little face, we cannot choose who we love only what we do about it.) and the worst thing is that I think he could learn! I do believe he has the capacity, the depth of empathy and soul and intellect, to learn from this, had he chosen to do so, had he let himself pause and truly listen at any point. but at the end of the day, even all these thousands of years later and with the mountains of guilt he lugs around, he chooses not to. and I suspect it's because he fundamentally does not actually understand what he did wrong. on his way to, ostensibly, fix one of these splits he caused, that of the veil, he basically goes and does to rook's mind what he did to the titans, and without the hand of mythal guiding it or anyone else culpable in it with him this time, as if to underline twice that in all these thousands of years he has learned absolutely nothing! almost to an impressive degree! does he even recognize that it's the same thing he's doing? does he even actually afford rook and their internal world that much thought to begin with, aside from what purpose they can serve for him? I'm not so sure. and to do it all with varric's face, with the person he took from them, making them feel complicit in it when they find out, the same way the dwarves will have to grapple with the fact that their whole economy is based in unwittingly selling the blood of like. god. their parents. themselves. solas. babe. what the fUCK. what the fuck. what the fuck.

perhaps part of the blind spot comes down to the way it's the inverse of his own trauma. solas knows exactly what happened to him because it's the endless ache at the center of his existence, the thing -- the first mistake -- he can't escape or undo or forget, nor bring himself to accept: he became real, one coherent set self, with no way back to what and who he was. and what he does with that pain, his one move, is to make others not-real. to himself, and more alarming still to themselves. he makes them forget, as he cannot forget. does he think it's mercy, in some way? does he realize how and why that makes it all so much worse??? and... not quite the same thing, but when mythal dies the structure of his own inner world falls apart catastrophically, and in his vengeance for that, even unintentionally, he imposes that same unravelling on the world. we've all heard the lines about spirits mirroring the real world and what you bring into your relationship with them being what you get in return, but how about the tragedy of the inverse -- the world being brought to mirror you, despite what your intentions might have been going in. no one should have that power, but you claimed that power yourself to do something else and now you have to look into that mirror forever. no such mercy as forgetting yourself for you. you are everywhere now, this broken mirror of a world will reflect yourself back to you no matter where you look. perhaps it would feel easier to simply close your eyes and walk on willfully blindly. AGH it's all so delicious and fucked up and makes me feel absolutely nuts

dissociation is something that's also central in iron bull's character and internal conflict, so presumably this is simply a deep theme trick weekes keeps returning to/is interested in exploring in their writing! and the elegance with which it's done and how inextricably yet subtly embedded in the narrative it is both with bull and overall in veilguard means it's not always engaged with or recognized as I feel it deserves, but to me personally it is Everything and gets at it in ways that feel weirdly real and authentic.

[venomwrites]

Inspired by @qvert's latest masterpiece because i was called out in the tags and that will not stand. Also on ao3

Dying is more peaceful than she imagined. 

It’s nice, nicer than she deserves after the things she’s done. There’s a linger of disappointment, like the aftertaste of a cigarette or a bad drink. She had been so ready to die. Right up until she found Vi in that cell. Until Vi shoved their mouths together and irrevocably rewrote all of Catilyn’s desires. Before that, the idea of dying was easy enough to imagine. She deserved it for all she had done. She could only hope that whatever part of her passed on was able to explain herself. She had tried. But she had fallen short. Like a novice shooter, she had struck the target but it hadn’t been a bullseye. That was alright though. As long as they gave her just a moment to hear her mother’s disapproving click. The arch of her eyebrow. Anything at all. If she could just have that she would go wherever was next. But then Vi had mashed their lips together and that sweet surrender turned bitter. She truly had tried to live. It was odd, none of her wounds seemed fatal but she must have miscalculated. 

Well it was one miscalculation. One of many, but she can’t even imagine the lifetime that stretched beyond her if they couldn’t salvage her eye. When her fingertips touch the skin though, there’s no damage. After another prod, she realizes there’s no skin either. Whatever she is, she is solid but not. She twists around and tries to sort through what she is seeing, but it’s very difficult. She feels as though she has many voices in her head, but they hum and move past. None actually register as she looks around. It’s baffling but they all feel equal in some strange way. Like everything that has made them them is gone. Scooped out. She has no idea what makes a someone a person if all of that is gone. She wonders if that is what death is. This strange surrender and scooping out. This return to something like light. It feels far more hollow than she would have expected. But if there are voices, perhaps one is that which she is looking for. It takes several tries to get her voice to work, but she is nothing if not determined. 

“Mum?” She calls. No response, just that same dull echo. Something like distant panic churns through her, “Mum? I’m here,” she tries again, twisting for any sign, “Mum it’s Caitlyn, are you here?”

For a moment there’s just silence. 

Then something collides into her and she’s falling. 

Caitlyn thinks she might scream but there’s no air in her lungs to scream with. She can’t remember when she took a breath last or if the need to breathe is even real. The sensation of falling is, maybe other things are as well. She’s been such a monster. Such a failure. Of course the peaceful place she was in is not where she belongs. Perhaps she is meant to fall for the rest of whatever is happening. Existence? Eternity? Caitlyn doesn’t know. She can do nothing except tumble through the impossible light. Just when she is half convinced there is no end to this, scenery roars up around her and Caitlyn barely has enough time to brace herself for the impending impact. Except everything goes molasses slow and instead of a hard landing she finds herself standing on solid ground. 

She doesn’t recognize this place. 

She recognizes vague elements of it. It’s like someone took all the cells in Stillwater Hold and the Bunker, jumbled them together and spit this place out. There were no sensations in the place of light but there is nothing but sensations here. Bruises appear and heal, mildew and mould tickle her nose and then are replaced by the smell of old dust. It’s an overwhelming nightmare that makes her dizzy for a moment as she fights to get her bearings. Her fingers wrap around the bars as she peers down an impossibly long hallway. Somewhere at the very end she thinks she sees the light of the elevator, but her eyes can’t seem to focus on it without it moving away. Caitlyn wonders if this is where she will exist for the rest of time or if this is another temporary place. If the next will be worse. She manages to draw in something resembling a breath and thinks to call for help. 

“Don’t!” A voice whispers. 

The hairs on Caitlyn’s neck stand up at the harsh, desperate whisper. She would know that voice across time and space. That voice has been inked into her marrow. Caitlyn made her peace with her own death. But not with this one. This was the death she wanted to prevent above all others. Some part of her screams in denial but she’s still not certain she can make a sound. And even if she can, the voice told her not to. 

When Vi asks, Caitlyn cannot deny her. 

Slowly she turns around but whatever she’s expecting, it’s not this. Vi is standing behind her but it’s not her Vi. It’s not even the broken Vi she dragged up from the depths of the earth. This Vi is only recognizable in parts. The scars on her face, the pink of her hair, the color of her eyes. Everything else is radically different. She’s whip thin. Painfully thin. Her eyes are bloodshot and her nose is runny. Her hair is shaved on both sides in an severe undercut, the kind that requires another pair of hands. There are no tattoos on her. Not even the VI under her eye. She’s bare faced, inkiness and utterly terrified. The prison garb she’s wearing is shockingly clean and cuffed several times at the ankles. It hangs off her slender frame. Her hands are wrapped but she’s bled though them already. Her hands twitch between wrapping tight around her middle, swiping under her eyes or nose or lifting up near her face. It takes a moment before something fractionally relaxes on her. 

“If they hear you they’ll beat you,” she says in that same desperate whisper and the panic in her eyes breaks Caitlyn’s heart. 

This isn’t her Vi. 

“We’ll be quiet,” Caitlyn whispers and Vi relaxes a little more, “I’m Cai—“

“No names,” Vi says, “they don’t like that. I’m 5-1-6,” she says in a horribly rehearsed way, “but some of the guards call me Pink.”

“I’m Cupcake,” Caitlyn says. 

Vi’s eyes light up. 

“No way,” she says, “I get my sister a cupcake for her birthday every year. It’s like having a whole cake to yourself,” her face falls a bit, “I was saving up for it before—“ she stops herself from speaking and her eyes go panicked like she’s said too much. Her hands rise up, “I don’t have any money the guards took it.”

“I don’t either,” Caitlyn offers, holding out her hands to show she isn’t armed, “I just got here. How long have you been here?”

“A few weeks,’ Vi says and chews her bottom lip, “I think. It’s hard to tell.”

A few weeks. Caitlyn feels sick. A few weeks and ten years to go. She’s one of the few who has seen Vi’s file. Caitlyn has no illusions that the file only scratches the surface. The file is horrific and it is only what people bothered to write down. Or what they were forced to. Stillwater Hold is notorious for having incomplete files. If the guards are not ignoring others atrocities, they are pretending not to have committed their own. It’s a hellish place. It was before Caitlyn had any idea how hellish it truly was. Before she even knew Vi her skin crawled at the thought of it. She had been nervous on that boat ride over. Only her own stubbornness got her off when even the captain of the boat leered at her. Everything in her screams to get Vi out. To save her. But she is fairly certain that she is not in the past. Not really. 

“You’re very strong,” Caitlyn says, coming a little closer, “saving money for your sister’s birthday like that. You’re going to survive this.”

Vi makes a tiny noise before she grabs her arm and twists away. Like even that noise will send the guards running towards her. Maybe it did in the past. Maybe it will now. Caitlyn doesn’t know how she will witness that knowing there is nothing she can do to help. Not really. 

“I don’t want to,” Vi whispers to her and a few tears break free, streaking down the grime on her cheeks. 

They’re close enough for Caitlyn to reach out and take Vi’s hand. Vi’s fingers are limp in hers. It’s horrible, the last time Vi’s fingers felt like this she was dying. Dying but still fighting with everything she had. There’s no fight in this Vi’s blue-grey eyes. She’s terrified. Even though she’s trying to protect herself the gentleness of Caitlyn’s touch seems to break something in her. One of her hands digs into her arm and her fingers weakly tighten around Caitlyn’s. Her lip trembles as she hangs her head, her eyes slamming shut. She tries to breath but every breath trembles. Caitlyn squeezes her hands back and her lips part. 

“I—“ she sucks in a tortured breath, “I want my mom,” she sobs, “I want my mom.”

Her body gives out and Caitlyn dives forward, drawing the trembling girl into her lap. One of the best things about Vi’s hugs is how all encompassing they are. How you’re blanketed in her embrace. Caitlyn doubts this slender thing could wrap her arms around her shoulders. She curls herself into Caitlyn’s warmth with a choked, horrible sob. Caitlyn tries to imitate Vi’s embrace and presses her into her shoulder. This Vi wraps her arms around her own middle but she turns her head into Caitlyn’s neck. Her tears and uneven breaths break Caitlyn’s heart as Vi tries to find comfort in her embrace. 

“I know you do,” Caitlyn whispers, thinking of how when Vi was stabbed she only wanted to go home, “one day this will all seem like a bad dream.”

“How?” Vi sniffles, “they won’t let me out.”

“One day someone is going to come and get you out of here,” she says, “and you’ll wind up in the big shiny house you always looked at when you saw the Fireworks at Progress day. You’ll have everything you could possibly want for the rest of you days.”

“I won’t die here?” The small voice asks. 

“No,” Caitlyn says, “you don’t die here. You’re strong—you’re so strong. You become even stronger in here. And that strength saves so many lives.”

“Do I find my sister?”

“Yes,” Caitlyn says, “you find her. You find yourself,” Vi’s lips shift up, “and you find so many others. People come together because of you. People who never thought they would.”

Vi is quiet for a moment and then sniffles. She slides off Caitlyn’s lap. She still looks scared but there’s a determination in her eyes now. A bit of the Vi she knows and loves, shining through. Caitlyn grasps her hands and looks into her blue-grey eyes. They seem almost colorless in this place. Like they were the night they first met. One day Caitlyn will know every blue in them, but right now they must be grey. 

“You are so loved,” she says, “promise me you will never forget that. Hold onto it.”

“I’ll hold on,” Vi says. 

There are footsteps suddenly. Pounding towards them. Caitlyn opens her mouth and tries to push Vi behind her, but she’s falling again. Slower this time. Monstrous shadows starts to darken the cell but Vi stands tall. Her shoulders square. Her fists raise up as she faces this impossible evil. Before they get her she turns around and grins at Caitlyn. It’s the smile Caitlyn loves. That devil may care one that says this is gonna be fine. She’s got this. She winks at Caitlyn and it’s like Caitlyn can see her growing up in this hellish place. She’s older when she turns back. Ink has started to decorate her skin and her arms are broader. It’s not her Vi, not yet. Closer but not there. But this Vi grins all the same at Caitlyn. 

“I’ll hold on,” she says. 

Time jumps again and Caitlyn is somehow away and unaware of every horror. Every moment. The shadows are gone except the ones the bars create. There’s a dripping sound that Vi uses to thump her fists into the wall. It’s her Vi. The determination is full on her face, but Caitlyn can see a weariness there. One she wasn’t aware of when they met. Vi loses the rhythm and presses her forehead to the wall. 

“How long do I have to hold on?” She mutters and opens her eyes to lock with Caitlyn’s. 

Caitlyn’s not sure how to answer. When even is this? There’s more hopelessness in Vi’s face as she looks at her. A weariness that guts Caitlyn. She’s so tired. She has every right to be exhausted. The way she strikes the wall is listless. Like she has nothing left to give. Caitlyn scrambles to find the right words. It’s harder with this world weary Vi. Somehow she can stand though. She presses her hand to the nape of Vi’s neck and tries not to wince when Vi pushes at the wall. She shies away from the touch like it’s a strike but she doesn’t move to the sides. She doesn’t actually try to get away. 

“Keep holding on,” Caitlyn says, “please.”

“I can’t,” Vi gasps out, “I can’t.”

“Yes you can,” Caitlyn counters, “I know you can. Hold on. I’m almost there.”

Vi looks at her with one miserable eye but then Caitlyn hears the sound of her own boots. They both turn at the precise steps, the ruffle of pages, the catch of an unsteady breath. Suspicion and worry echo on Vi’s face. She doesn’t know who this is but she can tell they don’t belong here. No-one comes down here alone. Vi listens for a moment longer and then squares her shoulders. If they’re here for her, if this is some new hell she’s going to face it. It’s written all over her face. Even before her grey eyes drag over to Caitlyn’s. 

“I can’t for much longer,” she says, “but for now,” her lips quirk up, "I’ll hold on."

Over Vi’s head Caitlyn watches as she walks into view. She looks so much younger. It’s hard to imagine she was ever this person. But she was. She is. Vi glances at her and then at that Caitlyn. Her Caitlyn. Even though she doesn’t know it, she can’t know it. Neither of them know what is about to happen to them. How this moment will irrevocably change the course of their lives. The cell tugs and fades and blurs. Caitlyn feels the skin under her hand shift and change as a watercolor Vi appears to stare at her Caitlyn and the Vi under her hands finally becomes hers. 

“Cait?”

They clutch each other as the watercolor world gives way to that endless place of dark and light. They don’t exist anymore but Caitlyn is certain they are together. She would have to be truly unmade to not know the feel of Vi’s embrace. Vi’s shoulders heave but they are her Vi’s shoulders. Thick with muscle and the weight of all she has been through. So impossibly strong. Caitlyn pushes her head into her shoulder and digs her fingers into Vi’s trapezius, the one that shifts more easily. 

“Fuck, Cait,” she breathes into her shoulder, “you’re here.”

“Yes,” Caitlyn says. Vi’s head comes up and finally looks around, “wherever this is.”

“We’re not dead,” Vi says with more confidence than Caitlyn is expecting. Her eyes inspect Caitlyn’s face and narrow at the surprised look, “how bad?”

“What—“

“How badly are you injured?” She asks, worry starting to show on her face, “Cait is it—“

“Nothing felt fatal,” Caitlyn says quickly, “some fractures, a puncture wound in my gut. My eye was injured as well,” she tries to keep the list honest and vague. But Vi looks crestfallen all the same, “I’m alive,” Caitlyn says firmly, “Mel is with me. Where are you?”

Vi looks at her and Caitlyn watches her face fall. It’s like being back in that place with the child version of Vi. She looks so heartbreakingly young and lost. Caitlyn cups her cheeks and strokes her thumbs under her eyes. In each other’s embrace it feels like the emotions come faster. Stronger. Caitlyn wants to let go but she cannot. Not when Vi turns her face into her palm and whatever they have for hands tightens around her waist. 

“I’m at the Hexgate,” she says, “with sister and my dad.”

Caitlyn feels the same horror she felt when Maddie cocked the gun. Vi is with her dad. Again. She doesn’t need to say it, Caitlyn can tell from the look on her face. It’s not a happy reunion. How on earth could it be? She saw what her dad looked like after the blast. She can’t imagine what Ambessa and Singed did to him since. She’s on the ground bleeding somewhere and Vi is up high with her father. The fact she has Jinx with her is a cold comfort. The best case scenario here is that Vi watches her father die for a third time. Even though Caitlyn has seen untold horrors in her head, they pale in comparison to the prospect of this. Caitlyn is powerless here in any way that truly matters. But that doesn’t stop her from pressing her fingers into Vi’s cheeks and pulling her attention back to her. 

“Hold on,” she says. Vi’s brow furrows and Caitlyn has no idea if she heard her in the hell that was her past, “just hold on. I’ll find you. I need you to hold on until then.”

Vi takes a breath and looks at her with that beautiful determination. 

“I’ll hold on.”

Something is pulling them apart, no matter how much they cling to each other. Vi spirals away and just shouts across the universe. 

“I’ll hold on! I promise!”

[totallyjustabunchofhocuspocus]

Fic Preview

A sneak peek of the next chapter of Something to Sink Your Teeth Into

Pairing: Buck/Tommy

Vampire/Witch!AU

Evan was dreaming. He had to be dreaming. That was the only explanation for what was happening—Sally, solid and purring against his chest as he held her; the strength and warmth of a coven bond pulsing through him, restoring his magic faster than he’d experienced in years. He buried his face in Sally’s rough fur the way he used to when he was a child, unable to stop the tears that sprang to his eyes. “Sally,” he whispered, his voice choked and hoarse. “Sally…what…how…” His words broke on a rough sob and he finally raised his face from Sally’s fur. “How are you here?”

Sally pressed her forehead against his cheek, the familiar rumble of her purring filling his ears and it only made the tears spill faster. It was Sally. It was Sally.

I’ve been waiting so long. I’d begun to think I was wrong…that you’d never find your way to him.

Evan startled at that, his brow furrowing in confusion. “Huh? Wh-what do you mean?” Him? Him who? Surely she couldn’t be talking about…

He looked over at his vampire, who was watching the whole scene unfold in front of him with a sort of stunned confusion. The other two vampires were just as frozen, staring at Evan and Sally in disbelief. Slowly, he started to pull himself to his feet, his muscles protesting and his head swimming at the sudden change in altitude. He was recovering quickly…but he’d been dying less than an hour ago. He let out a soft, pained sound despite himself, and Tommy was suddenly at his side. His vampire’s strong arm slid under his, helping him up and then immediately pulling him close to Tommy’s side. Evan closed his eyes and opened himself fully to the bond that flowed between him and Tommy, nearly gasping out loud at the flood of emotions he could sense from his vampire.

Witches learned early how to dampen their feelings and emotions in a coven bond, how to keep them from overwhelming the coven. Vampire covens were not the same as witch covens, though—Tommy had no frame of reference for how to close that part of himself off. All of it was laid bare for Evan…his vampire’s worry, his confusion, his wariness over Sally’s sudden appearance, his heart-stopping relief that Evan was all right.

His love.

Evan could feel it—a thread that stretched effortlessly through every other emotion he could sense from his vampire. Unyielding. Unshakable. Tommy loved him already, needed him, wanted him…could not bear the thought of being apart from him. Whatever they were facing, Tommy would be right beside him because that was where he belonged. That was where he wanted to be. Not for anything he felt he owed Evan, or anything that Evan could do for him or give to him. Because he loved Evan and trusted Evan, and that was enough.

Evan was enough.

All his life, that had only been true for Maddie and Sally. And he loved them with all his heart and was so, so grateful for them…but this was different. This was someone who had no reason to want him, no obligation, no link, nothing binding them together. Evan’s magic had drawn them together, but he saw now that Tommy was right. It couldn’t force his vampire to love him like this. Tommy had chosen this. Chosen him. Just like he was choosing Tommy. No matter what happened, no matter how this awful knot of tensions they’d found themselves embroiled in resolved, Evan knew he was staying with Tommy.

He let himself sink into the bond—the impossible, unbelievable coven bond that had somehow formed between himself and his vampire. He had never heard of such a thing, didn’t even know how it was possible, but he wasn’t afraid. Only a short while ago, this would have terrified him. Would have sent him spiraling into fear and self-loathing at the idea that his magic had somehow once again trapped Tommy into something he didn’t want. Now, though? He’d have to talk to Tommy, to tell him what had happened, but wrapped securely in the echoes of Tommy’s love and trust, their coven bond singing in his blood, he wasn’t even a little afraid. Tommy would understand.

His vampire would want this. Want him. He had nothing to fear from telling Tommy about the bond.

He let Tommy take more of his weight as Sally finally pulled back from the crook of his neck, looking up at his vampire with a sharp, assessing look. Took you long enough, you damned fool, she said with a light scoff.

Evan let out a wet laugh, hugging her tightly again. Something deep inside him, something that had been lost and hurting for the past five years eased, and it was like he could take a full breath again after a vise had constricted his lungs. He had Sally. He had a coven. He had his vampire.

Everything. Almost everything he had been longing for, wishing for, back before he’d even known what the things he wanted were…was right here.

Tommy’s arm tightened around his waist, and he tugged Evan towards the living room. Sally shifted slightly, sliding out of Evan’s arms to land neatly on the floor and trotting ahead of them to leap up on the couch. She turned to face them expectantly, her tail twining primly around her feet in such a familiar gesture Evan almost started crying again. He let his vampire help him over to the couch and sank down onto it, his whole body relaxing when Sally immediately scrambled onto his lap.

“Maddie?” Evan asked urgently, the biggest and most important question he had bursting out of him, his voice sounding desperate even to his own ears. “Is Maddie okay?”

Sally batted at his cheek with a gentle paw. Your sister is well, she said, and it felt as though a ten ton weight he hadn’t even been aware he was carrying slid off his back. I contact Sebastian whenever I can. He assures me she is fine.

“Good,” he breathed, swallowing harshly. “Good, that’s—that’s good.”

“Evan,” Tommy interrupted gently. His voice was careful. “I’m—I’m gonna need some context here.” He sounded bewildered, throwing looks down at Sally that seemed more cautious than strictly warranted.

“Yeah, I wouldn’t mind knowing what the fuck is going on, either!” Sal added, boosting himself up to sit on the large island that dominated most of the kitchen.

Evan struggled to pull himself together. “This is Sally, guys,” he said, one hand finding its way to the rough fur on Sally’s back almost without conscious thought. “My…my familiar. Or—or she was, I—”

I shall always be your familiar, little love, Sally said fiercely, and Evan took a deep, shuddering breath. Tommy stepped closer to them, his hand lightly skating through Evan’s hair, though he didn’t sit down.

“Yeah, no, I got that. Just, that’s also the stray I’ve been feeding for like two years.”

[okaysonny]

Hiii!!! Omll I js came across your page few days ago, love the way you write the Characters!! I was wondering if I could request a Vin Jin x reader, in general just fluff and goofing off like two mischievous idiots, and Mary having to deal with their bs a lot. Also could you include Reader and Mary bonding time like I feel like they would honestly be best of friends!! 😭

If you picked this up thank you so muchhh and don't forget to take care of yourself and stay hydrated! 🫶

karaoke night ╏ vin jin + mary kim

𝄞 summary: your karaoke night with mary takes a chaotic turn.

𝄞 details: fluff, f! reader, won't make sense if you haven't read jacedaichi case files arc!

𝄞 wc: 780

𝄞 A/N: anon! thanks for being so nice 💘 hope you like it :)

the plan had been simple. you and mary, a chill karaoke night, a fun time.

until vin jin finds out, of course.

“are you kidding me? karaoke again? i’m a rapper. i’m basically built for this” he boasts. “you’re welcome for blessing you girls with my skills”

now, here he is, sitting on the couch in the private room with an air of importance.

mary sighs. “...this was supposed to be relaxing”

vin jin scoffs. “relaxing is listening to me rap. instead we’re stuck here listening to amateur hour”

you roll your eyes, flipping through the song list. “you talk a lot for someone who can’t rap on beat”

vin jin slams his hand on the table dramatically. “what did you just say? i’ll have you know my skills are—”

“trash” you say, cutting him off. “anyway mary, how do you feel about singing illusion? it's my favourite DG song!”

mary’s eyes light up. “mine too! let's do it!”

as the music starts playing, you and mary grab the mics, your voices completely off pitch, but enthusiastic nonetheless.

vin jin winces, sinking deeper into the couch — as if your singing physically hurts him.

“this is painful. how does DG even make money? they should put my songs on here instead. then you’ll see what real talent sounds like”

you smirk, lowering your mic. “your talent? you mean the ability to make everyone’s ears bleed?”

mary stifles a laugh as she tries to focus on singing.

vin jin grits his teeth. “you’re just jealous of my raw skill!”

“oh...i'll show you some raw skill alright” you shoot mary a devilish grin and select a new song.

mary’s eyes widen in horror as she sees the title. “no...you wouldn’t. stop! you know what’ll happen!”

vin jin looks confused, his eyes darting between you two. “what’s the big deal? what did she—”

the instrumental to duke’s song starts playing.

he freezes. “you…you bitch!”

to mary’s resigned disappointment — vin jin can’t stop himself.

“You look like you're an aboker, Y'all just clueless!” he barks the lyrics into the mic, standing up abruptly.

vin jin moves involuntarily to the beat, his body already betraying him.

you cackle hysterically. “oh my god, he’s doing it! he’s twerking again!”

“shut up! i can’t stop!” he shouts as his hips shake — quite aggressively.

mary watches in disbelief. “...stop twerking” she mutters.

for just a moment, mary finds herself thinking about the old days in cheonliang. the teasing, the laughter — it felt…familiar. she didn’t say it, but the sight fills her with something warm.

after some more singing (and vin jin refusing to acknowledge he’d ever twerked), the three of you wrap up the night.

vin jin had stalked off, grumbling about how he’d been “set up” and “betrayed by the system,” leaving you and mary walking home together.

“you two are exhausting” she says, though her tone is more amused than annoyed.

“pfft, admit it. watching vin twerk made your whole week” you bump elbows with her.

“watching vin twerk will haunt my whole week” she shoots back.

but mary shakes her head, her smile undeniable. “you guys are so ridiculous, but it’s kind of fun. makes me think of…”

— of her friends back in cheonliang. the teasing, the ridiculous antics, a place where mary felt like she belonged. watching you and vin jin tonight, it almost feels like those days again.

“...yeah?” you ask, noticing her distant look.

mary blinks, snapping back to the present. “nothing” she murmurs. “just thinking”

“about how you can’t wait to sing with me again?” you beam, pleased with yourself.

“...sure, we’ll go with that” she replies dryly.

as you continue down the street, the conversation shifts to lighter topics — what tunes you’d sing next time, why DG suddenly announced his retirement, and if vin would ever admit he likes duke’s songs.

when you reach her house, mary turns to you, her expression soft. “thanks for tonight. it was…nice”

you grin. “you’re welcome. karaoke wouldn’t be the same without you”

mary raises a brow. “you mean it wouldn’t be the same without vin embarrassing himself”

“okay, true. but you make it better! you keep us from being too chaotic” you nod in satisfaction.

mary rolls her eyes, but there's a flicker of genuine gratitude. “someone has to”

you smile warmly at her. “...goodnight, mary”

she gives you a wave, before disappearing inside.

you stand there for a moment in contemplation. you can’t shake the feeling that mary had more to say, but you leave her be.

you tuck the moment away, turning to head home, already thinking of what you could bring to karaoke next time.

divider: @thecutestgrotto

[scribbly-artist]

Someone To Take Care Of

Summary: You’ve had awful back pain all day at work, and nothing you tried could remedy it. You’ve come home late on top of it. You’ve come home to your partner, Jayce, who wants to help melt your pain away.

Author’s Notes: I was very sad and in an immense amount of pain that kept me awake at 2am this morning, so fuck it, self indulgent fic. We also discussed tickly massages in the server and that’s all I was wishing for when I was kept awake from the pain. 😔 Other cramp and pain-havers, I hope you enjoy this one.

Words: ~1,000 | AO3 Link

The moon was already high in the sky once you arrived at your front doorstep. Your back had been aching all day, no matter how many painkillers you took at work, nothing seemed to ease the pain. You were so exhausted after the very long day you had, you were just ready to crawl into bed and sleep at this point. But you still had dinner to make…

You went to shove your keys into the front door lock, but noticed that the door was already unlocked when you twisted the handle. God, were you that late that Jayce was already home? The workaholic Jayce??

You pushed the door open, closing and locking the door as you proceeded to dump your outside belongings and shoes at the door. You could smell the aroma of food, following the scent as it led you through the entranceway to the kitchen. Jayce, your partner, was at the stove cooking your dinner for tonight. You snuck up behind him quietly, snaking your arms around his waist as you slumped your head on the back of his shoulder.

“You’re home late,” he commented, swishing the dinner he was preparing in the pan skillfully. “Are you feeling alright? Was work okay today?”

“I’m so tired… my back has been hurting all day… no matter what I did, it wouldn’t go away…” you mumbled into his shoulder, holding him tighter.

He moved the pan off the heat as he turned around, giving you a nice squeeze. You always adored his hugs.

“I’m nearly done – let me finish up here, and I’ll help you with the pain. How does that sound?” He pulled away, cupping the side of your face with his hand.

“No, no Jayce, it’s alright–”

Jayce brought a finger to your lips, stopping you in your tracks.

“I can see you're hurting. Please, let me help. I want to take care of you.” His eyes were filled with loving concern.

…well, you couldn't say no to that face.

You sat at the kitchen table, watching him cook and then clean the space, putting the food away once he was done. He grabbed you by the hand with a smile on his face, a small smile appearing on yours, leading you to your shared bedroom.

You sat down on the bed, and he followed suit. He placed a hand on your shoulder with a nudge. “Lay down, I’ll give you a massage that'll melt that pain away.”

“Thank you, love…” you replied with a shy smile, laying face down on the bed, the soft pillows comforting you. Jayce towered over you to get into position, rolling up your shirt to expose your back. He made sure his hands were warm before he began, rubbing them together and then touching down on your skin.

Jayce has given you massages before, just because he wanted to treat you or make you feel better. You always forget just how good he is with his hands. He rubbed tender circles into your lower back, and with such simple touches you were already melting. Your eyes fluttered closed as you let out a satisfied groan.

“Did I ever tell you how good you are at this…?” You mused aloud.

That got a chuckle out of Jayce. “You tell me every time, hun.”

If only you could have dragged Jayce to your work today – you wouldn't have had to deal with this pain all day. You were mumbling and making noises as he continued, his hands travelling up your back. However, once Jayce reached your shoulder blades a laugh escaped you as you jerked upwards a bit.

Jayce stopped for a moment. “Sorry, did it tickle? I forgot you're so sensitive,” he remarked with a laugh. “Do you want me to go somewhere else?”

“No… no, that's fine…” you turned your head a bit so you could look at him. Your face went a little bit red seeing his. “Actually, I don't mind it… if it tickles a little…”

A smirk reached Jayce’s face at first. Then it wavered back into a fond smile. “Okay. I'll make sure it doesn't tickle too much. I still want you to relax.”

Jayce’s touch grew lighter, dragging his fingertips across your skin instead of his thumbs. You started sleepily giggling. It wasn't too extreme that you wanted to bolt up, but it left nice tingles all across your skin. It was very comforting. He dragged patterns from your shoulders to the base of your neck, to your shoulder blades, all the way down your spine to your lower back. You were putty in his hands.

“Thihihis ihihis soho nihihice…” you couldn't help but giggle your words out quietly.

“If this is all I have to do to make you relax, I should be doing it more often, hmm?”

No spot on your back was left untouched. He even dragged his fingers up and down the side of your ribs and sides just to hear you giggle a little more. His heart swelled knowing that you were at peace at his doing, his touch. And he wouldn't have it any other way.

Once he stopped, he gave you a gentle pat on the back. “Think that's enough?”

“Yehehes… I feheheel so much behehetter…” your eyes felt heavy, nearly closing as you spoke and snuggled into the pillow.

Jayce shifted so he could get up, gently tugging your shirt down for you. “I'll heat the dinner back up for you. No need to get up, I'll bring it to you.”

A sleepy smile was pressed onto your face. But before Jayce walked away, your hand caught his wrist. “Thank you so much, Jayce… I love you… ” you breathed out.

Jayce gave you a warm, loving smile as he paced back over, placing a hand on your head to stroke your soft hair.

“I love you, too. I’ll always be here to take care of you.”

[urlocalmultigroupfan]

double take (alternate version pt.1)

pairing: stranger!jisung (??) x fem!reader

summary: based off of double take by dhruv <3

tags/warnings: reader is lwk kind of obsessed, mentions of food i think? not really proofread 😍

a/n: so i decided to kind of rewrite double take.....this is from the reader's perspective <3 hope yall like it <3

double take (original)

masterlist...

"boy, you got me hooked onto something, who could say that they saw us coming? tell me, do you feel the love?…."

The first time you saw Han Jisung, you almost tripped over your own feet. He wasn’t doing anything extraordinary—just standing in line at the coffee shop, scrolling through his phone. But there was something about him that made you look twice. Maybe it was the soft way his hair fell over his forehead, or the faint curve of a smile tugging at his lips as he read something on the screen.

You quickly ducked your head, hoping he hadn’t noticed you staring. But the image of him lingered in your mind long after you’d left the shop, your usual order clutched in your hands.

The second time you saw him, it was in the park. You were sitting under the shade of a tree, sketching in your notebook, when you heard a burst of laughter. Looking up, you spotted him with a group of friends, his smile brighter than the sun filtering through the leaves.

For a moment, you forgot about your drawing. You’d never seen someone so… alive. His laugh was infectious, and you found yourself smiling too, even though you didn’t know what had made him laugh.

You tried to focus on your sketch again, but your hand faltered, drawing lines that didn’t belong. Frustrated, you closed the notebook and decided to head home. As you walked past him, you felt his gaze flicker to you for the briefest of moments. Your heart skipped a beat, but you kept walking, pretending not to notice.

The third time was an accident—or maybe fate, you weren’t sure. It had started raining unexpectedly, and you’d forgotten your umbrella. As you hurried toward the nearest shelter, you nearly collided with someone. Looking up, you found yourself face-to-face with him.

“Oh, sorry!” you blurted, stepping back.

“No, it’s okay,” he said, his voice warm and slightly breathless. He looked at you, really looked at you, and you felt your cheeks heat under his gaze.

Before you could think of something to say, he held out his umbrella. “Here. Take this.”

You blinked, surprised. “What about you?”

He shrugged, a small smile playing on his lips. “I’ll be fine. You look like you need it more.”

For a second, you hesitated. Then you took the umbrella, your fingers brushing against his. “Thank you,” you said softly.

“Anytime,” he replied, giving you one last glance before walking away, rain soaking his hoodie. You stood there for a moment, clutching the umbrella, your heart racing.

After that, it felt like you couldn’t stop running into him. At the grocery store, at the library, even on the subway. Each encounter was brief but left you replaying it over and over in your mind. You started to wonder if he noticed you too, or if you were just another stranger in his day.

One afternoon, as you sat at the coffee shop by the window, sketching absentmindedly, you caught sight of him walking in. Your heart jumped as he ordered his drink, completely unaware of you. You forced yourself to look down at your notebook, but when he turned to leave, your eyes met for the briefest of moments.

He hesitated, as if he recognized you, and you felt a rush of something you couldn’t quite name. But before you could say anything, he smiled faintly and walked out the door.

It was weeks later when you saw him again, this time at a small record shop. You were flipping through vinyls when his voice broke through the quiet hum of the store.

“You’re the one from the park, right?”

You turned, your breath catching. He was standing a few feet away, a sheepish grin on his face.

“And the coffee shop,” you added, surprising yourself.

He laughed, the sound sending a warm flutter through your chest. “Guess we keep running into each other.”

“Maybe it’s fate,” you said, half-joking.

His eyes softened, and for a moment, it felt like the world had narrowed down to just the two of you. “Maybe it is,” he said quietly.

From that day on, your lives began to intertwine. Coffee runs turned into long conversations, walks in the park became shared silences where words weren’t needed. You learned about his music, his dreams, his fears. And he learned about your art, the way you saw the world through lines and colors.

One evening, as the two of you sat on a hill overlooking the city, he turned to you, his expression uncharacteristically serious. “Can I ask you something?”

You nodded, your heart pounding.

“Do you believe in connections? Like, meeting someone and feeling like they’re meant to be in your life?”

You smiled, the answer already on your lips. “I do. Because that’s how I feel about you.”

Relief and joy lit up his face, and he reached for your hand, his fingers lacing with yours. As the city lights twinkled below, you leaned your head on his shoulder, feeling like you’d found something you hadn’t even known you were looking for.

And in that moment, everything felt right.

lwk kind of rushed 😰 either way hope yall enjoyed <3

today's writing playlist....

double take by dhruv, what it is (solo version) by doechii, flamin hot lemon by jaehyun, smoke by jaehyun, dandelion by jaehyun

*bold is explicit*

my playlist

taglist is open! please comment if you would like to be added <3