#and i did pass <3 yay <3

[silvermeww]

for your Kalosian Woods AU, I have two questions! (1) what’s the direction you’re gonna take Amourshipping/Ash and Serena’s dynamic in? Their friendship along with the romantic subtext felt like it had a lot of potential in XYZ-proper but never really got utilized. And (2) how’re you gonna tackle Showcases? I’ve been meaning to work on a Showcase restructure but I’d love to hear your ideas :D

Hey there!!!!! For the first question, I 100% acknowledge the force of Serena’s crush on Ash in the XY series— even if I did tweak it so that she would fall after meeting him for the first time, watching him train for the Gym and having seen him fall off Prism Tower inspiring her to see him through tinted lens (and how it evolved from the admiration she had for him when they were kids so long ago). While XY anime itself had the weird notion of making everyone down for Ash (a terrifying scene after coming out of the professional haters of BW and literally every series before it) (ngl though I am a believer of the polycule + Bonnie idea lol, it exists in my heart), I can’t deny that side of Amourshipping even if I’m not a shipper myself or even much of a good writer for romantic relationships imo. In my AU I want to show how that love for him grows and eddies throughout the series: from their first meeting to taking up her own dream of showcases to seeing Ash lose himself in his endless hunt for strength— how she puts him on a pedestal because he was the first Trainer she knew, the strongest one she knew, and back then how she didn’t know better, relying on him instead of taking the risks herself and working with other people for a change. You’re absolutely right in the potential their relationship have in XYZ especially; with Serena coming to the tail end of her first Showcase season, ending up in the same place as before but with a totally changed perspective, and Ash fixating more than ever on being the best of the best, distancing himself from everyone else… and of course, all of that feelings and realisations coming to a head in Snowbelle, the Crisis, and the aftermaths. And also having both of them face each other at the end of it all and realising how much changed. I’m not really sure if I’m wording any of this right or if what I’ve said even makes sense heh, especially since I’m not too far ahead in this AU, but their friendship and that romantic subtext is definitely going to play a part in this series, and even if the plot details changes like the weather I’m going to do my best in keeping it as true to its potential as it should be (because a girl can be in love and also grow as a person, in spite and despite and even with it— you’ve just got to find the right angle).

(Also I’m going to have fun with that crush, so it might meet some light-hearted banter and miscommunications and all of that stuff. I mean, hey, these are kids on a journey lol. There are going to be awkward moments for everyone at some point, but they’ll grow past it as with everything else. Also fun memories. :P)

For the second question, wow, I’ve been giving it so much thought lol. I’m nowhere near the Showcases right now (although it is closer than what canon gave us in my AU) and yet it’s all I can do to plan for how it works. I have spitballed a few ideas with friends but for me (so far) I honestly want more of it to be outdoors. Showcases as a whole has this pesky problem of being a one-to-one copy of Contests but ‘declawed’ by having no battles, and it really gets me because if we’re discarding battles then we have to actually redefine Showcases as a whole— because the battle portion is the ultimate showing of precision and control with your Pokémon and their moves, which is what Contests are all about. Especially with AG and DP, we see examples of atypical Appeal rounds with Harley going for a more terrifying show of power, while Kenny (as :/ as a character as he was) goes for showings of strength— even though they are not ‘beautiful’ they still get to pass, because it really is about how your bond can perfectly translate to moves that can command the audience and grab their attention, naturally highlighting the Pokémon. With Showcases though, to me, they are more about creativity— about how a Performer can work with their Pokémon to get past certain obstacles which are based off a certain characteristic the Kalos Queen should have (the Theme round or whatever it was called lol) and then the Freestyle showing off what they uniquely bring to the table, their own brand, what they want to be remembered by (in which I thought that they could bring props to that originally but eh, that’s what my AU is for!). Sheesh, I went through such a big rant and I still feel fired up heh, but ig this is to say that since Showcases are about creativity, the outdoors location would be a great way to show how they deal with everything. On a sunny day, would they use Grass or Fire Types? Would they call out a Rain Dance and form a rainbow? Of course they wouldn’t actually have an open venue if it’s raining or snowing, but in different terrains can you see the characters stand out, I feel like. Also giving all sorts of Pokémon room like Flying or Ground. I have a bunch more ideas of course, about it being connected to PokéVision (still mad about how that concept got dumped) and having small events where people can get to know the up and coming Performers, getting hints for the Theme section so we don’t get the most unbalanced group of people and have a real competition (that always bothered me ngl), as well as other tweaks to that whole system. Showcases can be good in their own light, it’s just the rep of it being baby ‘only girls’ Contest (still thinking about the girls bit ngl) along with the stupid popularity bit of it (not that the concept is bad in and of itself, just that it should have a place and not be the be all end all of passing to the next stage) (it’s only good for the Freestyle, can I say that?) that makes it flop. Also because it came in so late and left so early. And the rivals kind of sucked because they weren’t given any time to grow. And the way Serena wasn’t challenged enough through them. So basically, I’ve got A Lot of thoughts about it and it’s going to be a headache to go through because it desperately needs a redesign to be viable in any way. But that’s the fun bit about an AU, isn’t it heh. Tell me about your ideas, I’d love to hear about them and thank you so so much for the ask!!! :D <33

[saberdramon]

women when pocket circuit RNG fucks them for the 7th time in a row

[deadcanine2006]

ASGFJD I WAS UP TILL 6AM AND SENT MY TEACHER AN EMAIL BEGGING HER TO EXTEND MY DUE DATES (FOR ASSIGNMENTS THAT WERE DUE MAY 6TH) RIGHT BEFORE PASSING THE FUCK OUT AND SHE RESPONDED AT 8:32 SAYING "I have to submit final grades today, I can only give you until 2pm." AND AT 8:34 MY FUCKING SOUL WOKE ME UP LIKE "WE GOTTA GO LETS GET SHIT DONE"

[liesonthefloordramatically]

grades are IN so unless any of the 3 students who have missing work submit something in the next 20.5 hours, this wretched semester is finally OVER

[onecooooooolcat]

saw smth i did not agree with an injustice being done n at first i was silent for way too long but it cldnt n wldnt leave ne alone so eventually i spoke up n it was scary n im having post anxiety n i feel like i did smth wrong n the other ppl hate me n will judge me negatively but what they did was not nice n not correct so yh who cares if i cry now nothing gets done without a bit of discomfort ahaha

[bitchkay]

It's either being able to drive or having a job

Somehow you can't have both

[astrxealis]

good eve hope u all r well 😇😙💗✨

[em1989ts]

𝐭𝐮𝐬𝐬𝐥𝐞

yelena belova x fem! reader

word count: 1.6k - masterlist

summary: yelena catches you staring, and decides a sparring session is just the thing you need

contents: wlw smut, sparring, scissoring, squirting, anxious! reader

authors note: yay first wlw smut finally, it's 3:30 am and i wrote this under an hour and haven't proofread it yet cause i am going to crash the minute after i post this, also i know yelena is canonically aroace (so am i probably) but this is a work of fiction and so is she

~~

It had been a peaceful morning for you. The anxieties of the day before had been washed away with a good night’s sleep, leaving you feeling calm and refreshed for the day ahead. 

After taking a soothing warm shower and getting dressed in some comfortable clothes, you made your way to the kitchen, excited for some of whatever Alexei had cooked up for the team that morning and a fresh cup of coffee. 

On your way to the elevator, you bumped into Bob, who happily told you all about the book he had just finished reading the night before. It was about a chemist who starred in her own cooking show, and he highly recommended it and promised to let you borrow it anytime. 

As you both walked into the kitchen, concluding your conversation about the novel, you noticed Walker and Ava already there. Typically, they would bicker back and forth about whether or not they should have waffles or pancakes or something similarly inconsequential, but this morning however, they seemed to be peacefully eating bacon and eggs and chatting like two normal people. 

Alexei greeted you and Bob brightly as the two of you pulled out chairs and sat down, ready to enjoy the meals he had placed before you. 

The food was delicious, contributing towards your good mood. 

That was until Yelena walked in, wearing a black tank top and her hair slicked back, dripping wet from her morning shower. Once your eyes met her figure, you immediately choked on a bite of bacon. 

You thanked Bob as he handed you your mug of coffee to sooth your throat, looking away from Yelena to catch your breath. How was it that she could look so good this early in the morning? 

As she made her way over to the coffee maker, making conversion with Alexei, she pretended not to notice you sneaking glances at her. She was an assassin, of course she noticed. 

You thought you were being subtle, but once she caught your gaze and held eye contact, giving you a small smirk before turning her attention back to stirring her coffee, you knew you were done for. 

She walked around the table to pass by you, patting you on the shoulder as she said, “Training room. One hour,” and walked back down the hallway towards her quarters. 

And there goes your good morning. 

~~ 

Why did it have to be one hour? Why couldn’t it have been fifteen minutes? Ten, even? 

Yelena’s absence in the kitchen let her command ring through your head, kicking in your anxiety for the day. 

You placed your empty plate in the sink and took your mug of coffee with you back to your room, before setting it down on your nightstand to change into your training clothes. Once you stood fully dressed in your biking shorts, sports bra, and crewneck, you stood in the middle of your room, staring at the clock that stated only 7 minutes had passed. 

Was she trying to torture you? Did she want you to heavily overthink your training session with her? Was it just going to be casual sparring or was she setting up some elaborate Ninja Warrior obstacle course in the middle of the room? Why one hour? Did she interpret your staring in the kitchen as you being an obsessed stalker and needed time to plan out a speech to let you down easy and nicely tell you to stay away from her? 

The coffee sitting on your nightstand was definitely cold by now, as you paced back and forth, worries eating at you, heart racing slightly. 

To calm yourself down, you face planted onto your bed, and just laid there for a few moments to relax your body and mind. Surely, there was no need to worry, she probably just thought you were weak and needed to work out more. Yes, that’s it. 

With a quieter heartbeat, you sat up on the bed and levitated your coffee mug towards you, catching in your palms before taking a cold sip of caffeine. Now that you were less stressed, you might have time to stretch a bit before your training.

Looking over at your clock, you see that it’s only been - an hour and five minutes? 

You froze for a moment, not truly believing your eyes, before you quickly placed the mug back on your nightstand, threw on your sneakers, and ran out your bedroom door. 

The elevator seemed impossibly slower than usual as you stepped in place nervously, waiting for the doors to open and let you out onto the gym floor. 

Hopefully, she wouldn’t be mad, maybe she wasn’t even there yet. 

The elevator dinged as you quickly made your way out and to the training room, opening the door to find Yelena standing there in her training outfit. Her arms lay crossed across her chest, as she leaned slightly on her hip, looking impeccable yet impatient. 

“You’re late.” 

She eyed you up and down as you tried to explain yourself, “Yeah, I uh- lost track of time.” 

She wasn’t going to bother pointing out the two different sneakers on your feet, so she began explaining your training session. 

“Right, well, we’re going to practice sparring. You’re too heavily reliant on your powers to fight for you, so you’re not that good at hand to hand combat.” 

That you knew. Of course, you could hold your own in a fight, but not too efficiently and not for very long. 

“Okay, so we just start punching or-” 

Before you could finish asking, Yelena threw the first punch, aiming a left hook right for your cheek before you caught it, using your powers. 

“Shit, sorry. Let me try again,” you released your mind’s hold on her hand but before you could prepare yourself for another incoming punch, she quickly spun around, and swiped her leg through yours, taking out your balance and knocking you to the ground. 

Trying to stay focused, you rolled to the side before she could drop down and land a punch, and tackled her onto her back. She quickly stabilized and flipped you underneath her, placing her knee and half of her weight onto your abdomen, the other knee on the floor between your thighs. 

Before you could grab her shoulders and use leverage to throw her off, she took your wrists in her hands and pinned them above your head. The position the two of you were in and her sharp gaze over you made your skin flush pink as you avoided her eyes. Clearly, you lost the fight. 

She cocked her head a bit and smiled down at you, “You’re really not good at taking control, or is it just because of me?” 

You dared to look into her eyes, a daring look now bored into you, which gave you the tiniest bit of courage, but just enough. 

With your arms pinned, the only thing you could do was buck your hips up slightly, your clothed clit barely meeting hers. 

The look in her eyes turned dark as she grinned down at you, needy underneath her. She transferred one of your hands to be locked with the other above your head, as she used her free hand to lift up one of your thighs slightly, giving her a better angle as she grinded down against you. A whine left your mouth as she dragged her cunt across yours, feeling her lips through the friction of her shorts. 

Your hair rubbed back and forth on the mat as your body moved with every thrust of her hips against yours. Her fingernails dug into your thigh as she let out the hottest groans you’d ever heard, looking up at her dazed and glowing face. 

Slick was practically seeping out of your cunt, you could feel it soaking through the fabric between you, mixing with her wetness. Every whine and whimper you let out was higher than the last as you got closer and closer to your high, using your last bit of strength to break your arms free from her hold on them above your head and firmly dig them into her hips. You pulled her closer, meeting her thrusts with your own as you felt the wave building inside your stomach, feeling his clit bumping against yours over and over again was driving you insane. 

“Lena, I’m gonna cum, please ah-,” you begged, growing closer and closer to your orgasm,”Please let me cum.” 

Her own orgasm was building fast. She looked down as your flushed, moaning figure before bringing her unoccupied hand under your crewneck, dragging her nails across one of your nipples over your sports bra. 

“Cum for me.” 

With her permission and that last bit of stimulation, your back arched off the floor as you came, moaning out with each wave that crashed over you as you squirt against her cunt. 

Watching you come undone and squirt against her was enough for Yelena’s orgasm, squeezing your breast as she moaned and grinded against you harder, riding out her high. 

Once you both steadied your breathing, you stayed in the same position for a moment longer, admiring the other’s fucked out and sweaty face. 

Yelena slowly removed her leg from between yours and lowered herself to press her lips against yours, in a passionate, slow and steady kiss. It took you a moment to remember how to move before you cupped her face in your palm and continued the kiss, before she helped you stand up and led you back upstairs so the two of you could shower. 

However, when Bucky came in later to warm up for his training with Walker, he was pretty confused about the puddle sitting in the middle of the mat. 

~~

[cheriedivine]

𝐀𝐩𝐩𝐥𝐞 𝐜𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐫 | chapter 3

previous | chapter 3 | next

꩜ synopsis: you’re best friends. just best friends. except when she lingers a little too long at your door. except when she calls you her favorite, and it doesn’t feel like a joke. except when her fingers graze yours and neither of you pull away. except when you start to wonder if she’s wondering, too…

꩜ Pairing: Ellie Williams x fem reader (no use of y/n)

꩜ CW: swearing, mentions of smoking. (lmk if i missed any)

꩜ WC: 7.1k

꩜ A/N: HEYYY I’M BACK long chapter (yay) full of tension and full of fluff. I love them sm… hope u guys like this one ;)

୨୧─── ⋆୨୧⋆ ───୨୧─── ⋆୨୧⋆ ───୨୧─── ⋆୨୧⋆ ───୨୧

A month had passed since that dinner with Ellie at your place, and something had shifted between you. Neither of you acknowledged it, both too clueless or too careful, avoiding it like it might disappear if left alone.

It was a slow Tuesday afternoon at the diner, the kind that dragged its feet and smelled like coffee and grease. You were wiping down the counter, absentmindedly humming along to the oldies playlist your boss refused to update. Your mind drifted back to Ellie. The closeness, the quiet intimacy. You started to wonder. But before you could spiral, your name was called from the back.

“Can I talk to you for a sec?” Maria, your manager, poked her head out from the kitchen.

Your heart did a tiny, nervous jump. That tone could mean anything. You nodded, tossing the rag into the sink and walking toward her office, nerves prickling at your spine.

She shut the door behind you gently, then leaned on the edge of her desk with her arms crossed. “How long you been here now?”

“Uh… almost two years” you answered, chewing the inside of your cheek.

She nodded slowly. “You’ve been solid since day one. Reliable. Good with customers, good with the crew. And I’ve been watching how you handle things during the rush when I’m not around, it doesn’t fall apart. That means something.”

You blinked. “Are you… firing me nicely?”

Maria barked a laugh. “No, dummy. I’m promoting you.”

You just stared at her, eyes wide.

“Assistant manager,” she clarified, sliding a new badge across the desk toward you. “More hours, bit more cash, little less nonsense from me since you’ll be the one dealing with the nonsense now.”

You picked up the badge like it might vanish. “Wait, seriously?”

“Dead serious. You’ve earned it.”

For a moment, you didn’t know what to say. You grinned widely, and then your eyes prickled without permission. This job even tho it could be shitty at times, it was the first job you got when you moved to the city, after your fallout with your parents, this promotion felt like a reward for all your hard work, “Thank you, holy shit, thank you.”

“Don’t cry in my office,” she warned with a smirk. “Go take five. Call someone.”

“Does this mean I can wear normal clothes now?”

Maria let out a small laugh, “Yes sweetie, no more aprons and visors”

You were grateful for that, already fishing your phone out of your apron.

Outside, leaning against the chipped wall of the alley behind the diner, you called Ellie.

“Hey,” she answered, sounding a little winded. “Everything okay?”

“I just got promoted.”

A pause.

“Wait, what?!” Her voice practically jumped through the phone. “Are you serious?!”

“Assistant manager. Maria just told me.”

You could practically hear the smile breaking across her face. “Dude! That’s amazing. Holy shit. I knew it! You’ve been killing it. I’m so fucking proud of you.”

You laughed, overwhelmed. “Thank you. I don’t know, it still doesn’t feel real. At first I thought I was getting kicked out”

“It is real,” she said firmly. “And we’re celebrating. Don’t argue.”

“I don’t get off for another two hours—”

“I’m already planning it. Just be ready. Something chill.’”

You rolled your eyes, cheeks warm. “You’re not serious.”

“Oh you know I am. Now get back in there, Assistant Manager.”

You smiled like an idiot the whole way back inside.

After the news Maria gave you, the rest of your day flew by. You barely remembered clocking out. Soon enough, you were in the locker room changing into your regular clothes, a pair of jeans and your favorite sweater, the one that always made you feel held. The weather was finally cooling down, and with it came the little joys: cozy layers, boots, and an excuse to drink hot chocolate without shame.

You texted Ellie that you were heading out of work and asked if she wanted to catch a movie or something. Casual. Friendly. Normal. The kind of thing that shouldn’t make your stomach twist but it did.

A few minutes later, your phone buzzed with a notification, your Uber had arrived. The driver, a nice man in his mid-forties, made friendly small talk, and the ride passed quickly. You thanked him, said goodbye, and made sure to give him a five star review.

You juggled a paper bag full of leftovers in one hand and your keys in the other, missing the keyhole on your first try. When you finally got the door open, you stepped inside.

It was dark.

Suspiciously dark.

“Sally?” you called out, flicking the light switch.

“SURPRISE!” your friends yelled, including your roommate Sally.

You nearly dropped the bag.

Dina popped a confetti popper that exploded with sad little bits of paper and glitter. Jesse stood off to the side, holding a plastic tiara he’d clearly grabbed from a dollar store. And Ellie standing at the center of it all, grinning like an idiot holding a cake with the words “ASSistant Manager” messily piped on top, clearly by her own hand. A party hat sat crooked on her head.

Your jaw dropped. “What the—?”

“Congrats, Assistant Manager!” Ellie said in a sing-song voice, raising the cake like a trophy.

You blinked, stunned, taking in the streamers haphazardly taped above your bookshelf, the “YOU DID IT!” banner scrawled in black Sharpie on a wrinkled sheet of poster paper, and the small cake sitting on your coffee table.

“You guys did all this?”

“Dina did the banner,” Jesse said, already munching on chips.

“Ellie baked the cake,” Dina added. “Kind of.”

“It’s store bought,” Ellie admitted with a shrug. “But I did the frosting. Hence the artistic genius.”

Your heart did that annoying flutter thing. You stepped inside, still dumbfounded, still holding the takeout bag.

“You guys are ridiculous.” you said, voice soft around the edges.

“And you are a boss bitch now,” Sally said proudly, giving you a hug as she took the bag from your hands and set it on the counter, next to some sodas and snacks.

Then Ellie was at your side, hand sliding into yours guiding you to the couch, her fingers were warm and steady. Her grin softened. “Seriously. You’ve been working so hard. You deserve this. We’re all so fucking proud of you.”

Your throat tightened. You tried not to cry again, but your eyes betrayed you, prickling with heat. “You’re all so amazing,” you managed to say, voice wobbly. “I hate you.”

“Liar,” Jesse said, and plopped the tiara onto your head without asking.

You laughed, ducking your head. When you looked up, Ellie was still standing close. Close enough that your knees brushed as she sat beside you on the couch. Her party hat had slipped lower now, barely hanging on. Her eyes hadn’t left you.

“This is just the beginning,” she murmured, soft and sincere, her eyes on you. Not the party. “You’re gonna do way more than assistant manager one day. I know it.”

You didn’t answer at first. Couldn’t. The look she was giving you, warm and full of belief, it pressed against something tender inside of you.

God, she made this so hard.

You swallowed hard, tilting your face down as your cheeks grew hot under the weight of Ellie’s gaze. Jesse and Dina were arguing over the playlist now, Sally was cutting up the cake and plating the slices in small paper plates for everyone.

But none of it registered, not really. All you could feel was the heat of Ellie’s thigh against yours, her hand still brushing yours on the cushion, pinky hooked like she couldn’t quite let go.

Sally came over, handing you a slice of cake on a paper plate and plopping down on the armrest. “Alright, boss, say something before we play charades or whatever Jesse planned.”

You laughed wetly, dabbing your eyes with the sleeve of your sweater. “What is there to say? I love you guys. You made me cry over balloons and cake.”

“That was the goal,” Dina said proudly. “Mission accomplished.”

The night went on with soft music, stolen photos, and a dumb group selfie that Jesse insisted on taking under the You Did It! sign. No one drank (per your very clear warning that you didn’t want to show up hungover on your first day with a promotion.)

“I don’t need that kind of karma,” you’d joked earlier, and now you were curled up beside Ellie, full of cake and warm in a way that had nothing to do with temperature. Everyone was chatting, talking about their day and telling dumb jokes, you felt so grateful for this moment, wishing to freeze it forever in time.

Eventually, the party started to wind down. Dina had class early. Jesse had to open the record shop and Sally gave you a look that said “Early shift tomorrow, heading to bed.

Ellie checked the time on her phone, screen dim in the soft light. “Shit,” she mumbled. “Didn’t realize it was almost midnight.”

You looked at her, reluctant. “Yeah. Probably time to call it.”

She nodded, but didn’t move yet. “You tired?”

“No,” you said, a little too quickly. Then you added, quieter, “Not really.”

She smiled at that, the barest curve of her lips. “Still… should probably get out of your hair.”

You didn’t answer right away, eyes lingering on the way her hoodie hung loose on her frame, the strands of hair at her temple slightly flattened from the dumb party hat.

“Have a smoke with me before you leave?” you asked, rising from the couch.

Ellie stood too, rubbing the back of her neck with a shy little grin. “Alright, boss.”

The apartment was quiet as you made your way to the small balcony, your steps echoing faintly against the wood floor. Ellie pulled out her Altoids tin, flicked the lighter, and handed you the cigarette, her fingers brushing yours. Warm.

“So who’s gonna serve me my pancakes now?” she teased, sarcasm curling at the edges of her voice.

“That’s an extra task I’m still willing to do,” you said, lips twitching. “But it’ll require extra tips.”

“Oh yeah? Is being the best friend in the world not enough?” she replied with a lazy smirk, taking a drag.

Your breath hitched a little. Best friend. Of course. That’s what she was. Is. That’s what she’d always been.

You smiled anyway. “Of course it is silly. I’ll make sure to sneak into the kitchen and draw a stupid face with chocolate chips.”

Ellie chuckled, low and real.

Then her hand rested on yours. the one gripping the balcony railing. Her touch was light, but it grounded you like a weight. “Hey,” she said, softer now, no jokes left in her voice. “I meant it. I’m proud of you.”

Your heart thudded like a drum in your chest. “Thanks, Els.”

The two of you shared the cigarette, passing it back and forth in the quiet night. It was almost meditative. Almost intimate.

Eventually, Ellie looked away, exhaling slowly. “I should get going for real. Text me when you get to the diner tomorrow?”

You nodded. “Only if you promise to make fun of my stupid name tag again.”

Her grin returned, that familiar lopsided thing. “Absolutely.”

You walked her to the door. Stepped out the last embers of the cigarette with the edge of your shoe. And just like that, she was gone.

The door shut softly behind her. You rested your forehead against the wood for a second too long, letting out a quiet breath you hadn’t realized you were holding.

Ellie stepped into her truck, chest still warm with a feeling she’d been trying way too hard to ignore. Being quiet and alone with her thoughts only made it worse. She turned the radio on, hoping the mindless pop song playing in the background would be enough to drown everything out.

It worked. For a second.

Then she remembered the way your smile crooked just a little more when you talked to her. The way your eyes had gone glassy when she told you how proud she was. She wanted to make you feel like that forever and—

Nope. Fuck this. I’m not doing this.

She cranked the volume all the way up, gripping the wheel tighter, convincing herself it was just a phase. Just something she’d get over.

Eventually.

The next morning, your alarm dragged you out of a shallow sleep. You rubbed your eyes and blinked at the early light filtering through your curtains. You sat up slowly, stretching the stiffness from your arms and legs before slipping out of bed.

The apartment was quiet. Sally had already left for her early shift, and the remnants of the party were still scattered around. Paper plates on the counter, a balloon or two clinging to the ceiling, and your tiara sitting on the coffee table.

You brushed your teeth while staring at your own tired reflection, mentally hyping yourself up for the new responsibilities. You pulled your hair into an almost perfectly neat ponytail, your new uniform sitting slightly-starched in your bed. Once you got dressed and pinned the shiny name tag over your chest, you took one last glance at your reflection. It looked better than your old attire, that's for sure.

You got to the diner a little earlier than usual. Maria was already there, sleeves rolled up, reviewing inventory in the back.

“There she is,” she said, without looking up. “Bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, huh?”

You smiled sheepishly. “More like bright eyed and about to collapse.”

Maria smirked, finally turning to you. “Get used to it. You wanted the title, now you get the joy of looking like you’re in charge even when you’re running on fumes.”

She handed you a small clipboard with the day’s notes. “You’ll still be doing floor work today, but I want you to start shadowing the closeout. Cash registers, logs, the whole thing. And we’re short-staffed for the lunch rush, so I might ask you to handle the scheduling this week.”

You blinked. “All that today?”

Maria raised an eyebrow. “You want the job or not?”

You let out a breath. “No, yeah. Absolutely. I’m in.”

Maria nodded, and her face softened. “Good. ‘Cause I wouldn’t have picked you if I didn’t think you could handle it.”

That quiet bit of validation settled somewhere deep in your chest. You glanced down at your clipboard, then back up with a nervous but determined grin.

“Okay, boss,” you said.

Maria rolled her eyes, already walking away. “Don’t push it.”

As you tied your apron and stepped onto the floor, your phone buzzed in your back pocket. A text from Ellie.

“Name tag looking sexy yet?”

You failed to not smile like an idiot.

“Hotter than ever” you replied, shoving your phone in your pocket before getting started with all your new tasks.

You were mid-way through checking the prep station when your phone buzzed again in your back pocket. It was Ellie. “Hey sorry boss, running a lil late. got caught up w/ a shoot. be there soon tho. save me a booth?”

You smiled to yourself, tucking the phone back into your apron. Typical. But you didn’t mind, you still had a shit ton of things to do so it was perfect timing.

“Hey, new boss lady,” one of the servers called from the back, “you gonna assign tables or just smile at your phone all day?”

You blinked and straightened up, clearing your throat. “Right. Let’s move, people.”

By noon, the place was packed.

The lunch rush hit hard. Families, regulars, one annoying couple who kept changing their order, and it felt like everyone had decided to test your patience and the limits of the kitchen at the same time.

“Table five says their toast is too burnt. Again,” Jasmine groaned, setting the plate down beside you.

You didn’t even flinch. “Switch it for sourdough and refill their coffee. Tell them I said it’s on the house.”

She blinked. “Alright, Miss-almost-manager.”

You didn’t have time to respond because the dishwasher shouted something about a clogged drain, someone else said the register was acting weird, and your cook, Leo, had accidentally used the wrong sauce on two different plates.

You rolled up your sleeves, quite literally, and dove in.

Replaced a fuse. Took over the register for fifteen minutes to get the line moving. Helped on the floor. Gave your team water breaks. Even did a quick round of table touch-ins, checking in on customers with a polite smile and a “How’s everything tasting today?”

You didn’t feel calm. You were sweating under your uniform and your back hurt like a bitch, but no one else needed to know that.

You were in charge now, and you couldn’t fuck this up.

At some point between solving a syrup emergency and restocking the napkins, you heard the little chime above the front door.

Ellie stepped in, tugging her camera strap off her shoulder. She was wearing Joel’s jacket and her usual pair of jeans, with her beat up all stars. Obviously. She looked around for a second, a little stunned at the chaos still echoing through the space, and then she saw you.

Standing near the counter, clipboard in one hand, head tilted as you gave instructions to one of the new servers. Calm, focused, in control.

Ellie’s jaw ticked. She was done for.

You turned a moment later, as if sensing her. And when your eyes met hers, something softened in your expression. A flick of relief and joy that made her insides twist up in the best kind of way.

You made your way to her through the lunch crowd.

“Hey,” you said, a little breathless. “You made it.”

“Yeah. Place looks like hell—but you look hot.” Ellie said, mentally slapping herself on the face, why did she say that?

You snorted, shaking your head. “I’ve been on my feet for five hours, I’m sweaty, and I think I might be legally dead inside.”

Ellie gave you a look, taking a step closer. “Still hot.” She didn’t know why her mouth kept moving and it was upsetting her.

That made your face heat up, and you were grateful for the chaos around you to hide it. You cleared your throat, adjusting your clipboard.

“Your usual booth?”

“I want whatever booth comes with a side of you sitting with me,” she said. “When you can.”

Your lips twitched. “Can’t sit during rush hour, Williams.”

Ellie mock saluted. “Understood, boss.”

She took her seat by the window, camera beside her, still watching you as you walked away.

God, she was so pathetic.

When the diner finally quieted down, after the crazy lunch rush, a soft hum of post-rush chatter replaced the earlier chaos. The AC kicked in gently above you, cooling the back of your neck as you brought over Ellie’s usual club sandwich with extra fries and a tall glass of strawberry lemonade, condensation dripping down the sides.

Ellie’s eyes lit up as you set the plate in front of her. “God, I love you.”

You raised an eyebrow.

“—This sandwich. Love this sandwich.” she added quickly, grinning behind the straw as she took a sip.

“Right,” you said, sliding into the booth across from her. “I’ll better go then, enjoy your sandwich date.” You said teasingly.

She kicked your shin under the table. You kicked hers back, smiling stupidly at each other before falling into the usual rhythm, talking about your shift, her shoot, the latest drama from Jesse and Dina (They kissed again but still no love confession), and your roommate Sally’s stupid boyfriend that snored so loud every time he slept over at the apartment.

Ellie was halfway through a dramatic retelling of her awkward run-in with an ex-classmate during her morning shoot when her phone buzzed.

She glanced down, pausing. Her brows lifted.

“Huh.”

You leaned over the table slightly. “What?”

She tapped her screen and turned it so you could see the email.

From: Dr. Anderson, Surgical Foundation

Subject: Event Photography Inquiry

Dear Ms. Williams,

We’re hosting our annual fundraising gala for the Children’s Cardiac Research Foundation and we’re looking to hire a photographer to document the event. Your portfolio came highly recommended…

You blinked. “Isn’t Dr. Anderson, like rich as fuck and almost Elite famous?”

Ellie nodded slowly, scrolling. “Yup. Real fancy shit. It’s black tie, huge donor turnout. And—holy shit, they’re offering me almost double my usual rate.”

“Ellie. That’s insane. You’re gonna take it, right?”

“I mean—yeah, obviously,” she said, still scrolling, “wait—look. It says I get a plus one.”

“You gonna bring Cat as your date?” you joked, but the words tasted bitter in your mouth.

She snorted. “You’re never letting that go will you?” you shook your head in response. As if the thought of Ellie with another girl didn’t make you sick to your stomach.

“Well actually, I was kinda hoping you’d come with me.” She said in a more serious, yet nervous tone.

You blinked.

“To the Anderson gala?”

“Yeah. I mean—don’t worry, it’s paid for. They cover dinner and everything, and I’ll be working for part of it, but—c’mon. It could be fun. You’d look hot in some little dress or whatever. Plus it’s great exposure—for me, I mean,” she added quickly, ears going pink. “But also just… I want you there.”

Your mouth opened, then closed.

Then “Wait—you want me there?”

Ellie raised an eyebrow. “Dude. I want you everywhere.”

You nearly choked on your lemonade.

She laughed, cheeks red now, and quickly took another bite of her sandwich to shut herself up. Where the fuck was all this boldness coming from? She has always been flirty on a surface level with you, but now she felt like being swallowed by the ground every time she opened that big mouth of hers.

You tried to play it cool, fingers toying with a napkin on the table. “You sure? I don’t wanna ruin your gig with my awkward social skills.”

Ellie tilted her head. “I only want you there. You make me feel like I can breathe when I’m working these things. You don’t even have to talk to anyone. Just eat the fancy appetizers, sit near me, maybe sneak me a couple fries while I shoot. That’s all I need.”

You stared at her. She wasn’t joking. She really wanted you to come.

Your heart fluttered stupidly in your chest.

“Well,” you said slowly, trying to sound chill even though your insides were screaming, “I guess I should probably buy a dress, huh?”

Ellie’s grin was so wide it made your knees weak.

“I’ll come with you,” she said. “We’ll make a day of it. Fancy gala shopping spree.”

You laughed, leaning your chin in your hand. How could you ever say no to her? especially when she was asking you like the world would collapse if you weren’t by her side. (Which partly was true).

Outside, the clouds shifted, casting a warm stripe of sunlight across the table. Ellie’s eyes looked extra green in the light. And somewhere deep in your stomach, beneath all the nerves and joy and chaos of the day you already knew.

You’d go anywhere with her.

After Ellie finished her meal, you both agreed to go fancy-outfit shopping tomorrow after your shift. The idea made your stomach flutter, you’d never been to something this upscale before. (Unless your cousin’s wedding counted, but… it really didn’t.)

After Ellie headed back to her studio, you stayed behind for a few more hours, helping close the place and chatting with Maria about your first day as assistant manager. She praised you for how well you’d handled everything. Especially the chaos of the lunch rush, which made your chest swell a little with pride.

By the time you stepped outside, the sun had dipped below the skyline, casting the streets in that soft, dusky glow. The September air was crisp, and you hugged your arms around yourself for warmth while waiting on your Uber. Your mind was still processing everything that had happened that day. your promotion, the rush, the weird calm that followed, and inevitably, your thoughts circled back to Ellie.

She’d asked you to go to this fancy event with her. Needed you there. The thought made your cheeks flush and your stomach twist in a way that felt too familiar. But she was your best friend. Of course she’d want you around for something important—right? She was just being nice. That’s all. You told yourself that, again and again, even as the warmth from the thought lingered a little too long.

Luckily, the car pulled up before your brain could spiral further. The ride home was quiet. you weren’t really in the mood to talk after such a long day, so you stuck to polite small talk and leaned against the window, eyelids heavy.

Sally was sprawled out on the couch when you walked in. Her eyes lit up as soon as she spotted the brown takeout bag in your hand. She immediately set the table for both of you, and the two of you ate together, trading stories about your day.

She vented about her annoying coworker and how she’d nearly slapped someone. You told her about your new responsibilities and briefly mentioned the gala Ellie was shooting, and that she’d invited you as her plus-one.

“So… Ellie,” Sally said, mouth full of burger. “This gala thing’s kind of a big deal for her, right?”

“Yeah. She could get a lot of exposure from it, more clients, maybe even regular gigs.”

Sally raised an eyebrow, chewing slowly. “Uh-huh. And she’s taking you. As her date.”

You almost choked on your salad. “It’s not like that,” you insisted, trying not to turn scarlet. “She’s my best friend and this is important for her, which is why she wanted me to come. That’s all.”

“Mhm.” Sally smirked and went back to scrolling on her phone. “Keep telling yourself that, honey. Maybe one day you’ll believe it.”

You stared down at your half-eaten salad, your appetite suddenly gone. You excused yourself, blaming how exhausted you were—which, thankfully, wasn’t a lie. All you wanted was a hot shower and sleep for three days straight.

Meanwhile, Ellie sat in her studio, hunched over her desk, aggressively scribbling a list of the gear she’d need for the gala shoot. She was so focused that she didn’t realize how late it had gotten, or that she hadn’t checked in on you.

When she finally glanced up, she groaned and rolled back in her chair so fast it nearly tipped. Her journal slipped from her lap and landed open on the floor.

She reached for her phone, still charging on the windowsill, and stooped to grab the notebook. It had flipped open to a familiar page, one filled with soft pencil sketches of you. Some from the diner. One from that time you fell asleep on her couch. A bunch of smaller ones: your eyes, your hands, the slope of your nose.

Her chest tightened. She ran a hand through her hair and grabbed her phone.

“Hey, sorry—got a bit caught up with prep. You get home okay?”

Your reply came just a minute later.

“No worries, I forgot too lol. Just got out of the shower and I think I need to sleep for 72 hours straight.”

Ellie smiled to herself, already picturing your sleepy pout.

“U should go to sleep. I’m picking you up after your shift tomorrow. We’re going fancy outfit shopping”

“Yes ma’am. See you tomorrow, Els;)”

“Night, boss.”

Ellie sat back on her bed, legs stretched out, journal forgotten at her side. The lamp on her nightstand cast a golden glow across the room, soft and warm. She stared at the ceiling,

Her heart felt stupidly full, overwhelmed, even. She didn’t know if it was nerves from the upcoming shoot, this being one of her biggest gigs yet… or if it was the fact that you were coming along. You’d seen her work before, sure—camera in hand, sleeves rolled up, focused and pacing. But this was different. You being there, dressed up and standing beside her, there just to support her… it made her heart swell in ways she didn’t want to name.

You were going to this gala with her.

You were going to wear something beautiful. Stand beside her in a room full of people.

And she was going to have to pretend none of that mattered more than it should.

What the hell was she doing?

It wasn’t like she hadn’t noticed it before, the way her eyes always drifted to you in a crowd, the way her brain stored your smiles like a collector desperate for a full set. But lately, it had become harder to ignore. Harder to laugh it off. You were her best friend.

And maybe that’s exactly what scared her the most.

She sighed and threw her arm over her eyes, the phone slipping from her fingers and landing softly on the comforter beside her.

Saturday was going to ruin her. She just knew it.

Eventually, sleep came. The only time her thoughts quieted. But even then, there you were, slipping into her dreams like it was the most natural thing in the world. You were holding her like you were afraid she might vanish, looking at her with those eyes that made her want to give you everything.

She was so fucked.

It was actually kind of hilarious.

Afternoon sunlight streamed into Ellie’s studio. It smelled faintly of coffee and lemon-scented cleaner. Her camera lay disassembled on the workbench, each lens carefully laid out as she cleaned them with practiced precision, small cloth moving in gentle circles. The ritual grounded her. One lens at a time.

She’d already backed up her SD cards, organized her battery packs, triple-checked her lighting gear, she liked to be organized even if there was still time, it made her feel more confident knowing everything was already in place. She wasn’t nervous. That part was easy. Predictable.

It was you that made her heart act up.

Her phone buzzed from the corner of the table. She wiped her hands and reached for it, it was a message from you.

“Just finished the lunch rush. I’ll be out in 30 min, lmk when you’re on your way”

“Be there soon;)”

“Alright loser”

She chuckled to herself, slipping her hoodie over a black tank top and grabbing her keys. She threw her camera bag into the backseat just in case, because she never went anywhere without it, and headed out the door.

Ellie pulled up to the curb, tapping her fingers on the steering wheel in rhythm with the music playing through her speakers. The windows were cracked, letting in the cool September air, and her smile widened a little too much when she spotted you pushing through the diner’s front doors, bag slung over your shoulder, hair slightly tousled from the long shift.

You were smiling already when you saw her.

She couldn’t help smiling back.

You slid into the passenger seat, sighing like someone who’d just escaped battle. “Holy fuck that was some shift right there.”

Ellie laughed, pulling away from the curb. “Well, soldier, you earned yourself a trip to the mall with your favorite person.”

“Yeah? Who?” you teased.

“Rude, I’m disinviting you now.” she said dramatically, the edges of her lips curving into a smirk.

“Nah, you’d miss me too much” you blinked at her, making you both giggle. The car ride was filled with your usual chatter and jokes, making it go by quick, you almost didn’t realize when Ellie was already pulling up to the mall’s parking lot.

The mall doors slid open with a soft whoosh, letting in the blast of air conditioning and the distant buzz of chatter and music from inside. It wasn’t as packed, fortunately, just a few teenagers and some families. You glanced at Ellie beside you, adjusting the strap of your bag. “Alright,” you said, grinning. “Any idea what we’re going for? Or are we just winging it until we cry in a H&M fitting room?”

Ellie huffed a laugh. “I was thinking classic lesbian formal attire,” she said dryly.

You squinted at her. “You sure you don’t wanna wear a dress? I think hot pink could really bring out your eyes.”

She deadpanned. “I’m leaving you in the food court, I’m so serious”

You both laughed as you started toward the more formal clothing section of the mall. First stop was helping Ellie. She wasn’t picky, thank god, she found a crisp white shirt she liked pretty fast, and after trying on a few blazers and pants, settled on a sleek black set that fit her just right. You made her do a little spin in the fitting room hallway just to annoy her.

“You look hot,” you teased, arms crossed as you leaned against the wall.

Ellie rolled her eyes, but the pink in her ears gave her away. “Yeah, yeah. Your turn.”

And then the fun part began.

You hit three different stores before landing in one that had just the right vibe, not too expensive, but full of gems. You started picking out a few dresses, arms full, while Ellie found a seat just outside the fitting rooms, legs stretched out in front of her as she waited, a few minutes later you came out of the little fitting room. Dress number one was short, silver, and too sparkly. You stepped out with a twirl.

Ellie tilted her head. “You look like a disco ball. A very cute disco ball, but…”

You agreed with her, the dress wasn’t ugly, but it just wasn’t for the occasion.

Dress two was red and tight, she blinked too fast when you stepped out. “That one’s illegal,” she said, tossing a hand over her eyes, peeking through her fingers.

You laughed so hard you had to grab the dressing room door frame to steady yourself.

Dress three? She gave a small thumbs down before even saying anything.

And so it went. Each new dress earning a quip, a blush, or a muttered holy shit under Ellie’s breath that she hoped you didn’t catch. But you were watching her just as closely. Not that she had to know, you were enjoying this a little too much.

Finally, you stepped out in the one.

Simple. Elegant. Long navy blue with thin spaghetti straps. It hugged you just right, flowing soft at the hem.

Ellie froze.

Her eyes looked over you slowly, like she was in slow motion, blinking like she needed to make sure you were real. “Okay,” she said finally, voice just a little rough. “That’s… yeah. That’s the one.”

You turned slightly. “I think so too. It’s just—” you twisted your torso awkwardly, “can you help me up with the zipper please?”

Ellie stood like her limbs weren’t fully cooperating, stepping behind you. Her fingers fumbled for a second at the small zipper along your spine. You could feel her breath, soft against your skin. Neither of you said anything at first.

Then, quietly, almost too quiet, Ellie muttered, “It’s perfect”

You smiled, heart thudding a little too hard. “It’s just a dress, Els.”

“Sure,” she said, adjusting the straps of the dress, her cold fingers lingering at the base of your neck for a beat too long. When you turned around, you were both flustered, trying to pretend like nothing had happened.

You looked in the mirror one more time before rushing back into the dressing room and changing before you could combust. Still a little breathless from the previous moment. Ellie’s hands had been cold and just a little shaky as she helped you into the dress, and the moment had hung in the air like something fragile.

Now, the two of you were heading to the register, your dress in hand, Ellie’s outfit inside the stupidly big paper bags from the first store you had gone to. You bumped shoulders as you walked, laughing about how you almost bought the glitter monstrosity “for the bit,” and then—

“Next in line?” called a voice that made Ellie freeze. There was no fucking way.

You looked up to see a girl behind the counter with a pixie cut and a nose ring, smirking slightly when she spotted Ellie.

“Shit, it’s Cat” Ellie muttered under her breath, too low for anyone but you to hear.

Your brow furrowed. “No fucking way”

Before Ellie could even pretend not to, Cat was already grinning.

“Well, shit,” she said, tapping on the register lazily. “Didn’t think I’d see you again.”

Ellie cleared her throat, suddenly very interested in the hem of the garment bag. “Hey. Uh—yeah. Small world.”

You glanced between them, your stomach doing that weird thing it had done when Ellie first mentioned her.

Cat looked over at you, giving a once over that wasn’t exactly subtle. “Ah I see why you never called back.”

You blinked. “Excuse me?”

“I didn’t know you had a girlfriend,” Cat added, smiling wider now. “Congrats, you two look cute.”

Ellie’s eyes went wide. “She’s not—I mean—we’re not together,” you both blurted at the same time, face already beet red. “She’s my—she’s my best friend.”

You nodded, suddenly very aware of how warm your cheeks were. “Yep. Just friends.”

Cat raised an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced but amused. “Riiight. Well, here’s your ticket and have a good rest of your day. That dress is definitely turning heads.”

You gave her a tight lipped smile, unsure if you were annoyed or weirdly flattered. “Thanks…”

Ellie quickly handed over the card and practically snatched the bag once the transaction was complete. You both mumbled some version of a goodbye before turning on your heels and speed-walking toward the nearest exit.

“Well that wasn’t awkward at all,” you said dryly once you were outside.

Ellie groaned into her hands. “I need to walk into traffic.”

You nudged her with your elbow, trying to keep it light, though your stomach was still doing some type of weird slow roll. “So, uh... that was Cat”

She sighed. “Yup. Bridesmaid number 3, the one I gave Joel’s number, I thought I would never see her again”

You hummed, pretending not to care. “You sure you don’t want her to come to the gala instead?”

Ellie whipped her head toward you. “Fuck off” she snorted.

You shrugged, half-smiling. “Just checking–” she caught the tiny grin tugging at the corner of your lips “Froyo?” you suggested, already pulling out your phone to check if the place in the corner of the mall was still open.

Ellie looked at you like you’d just offered her the key to heaven. “God, yes. I need something sweet after being humiliated..”

You rolled your eyes. “It’s literally your fault for being a flirt.”

You made your way to the frozen yogurt spot, picking your usual mix of flavors and toppings while Ellie piled on way too many cookie crumbles and a questionable amount of gummy worms. After grabbing your cups and two tiny spoons, you wandered back to the parking lot, the sky now a soft pink orange as the sun dipped toward the horizon.

Once you were in her truck, bags safely in the back seat, Ellie started the engine, one hand on the wheel, the other already holding her cup.

You side eyed her. “You are not about to eat that and drive.”

“I’m a multitasker” she said, taking a wild, wobbly spoonful that almost dropped onto her jeans.

You laughed, snatching the cup from her lap. “More like the cause of our death.”

“Oh my god,” she muttered, glancing at you as she pulled onto the road. “You are loving this.”

“You fed me fries the other day. It’s called balance,” you said, scooping a careful spoonful of her frozen yogurt and holding it up to her mouth. “Here comes the airplane.”

She groaned dramatically but leaned over to take the bite, her lips brushing the spoon. “Mm. Okay that’s good.”

“Right? It’s the cookie crumbles.”

You alternated between feeding her and stealing bites from your own cup, giggling every time she tried to talk with her mouth full or pulling a face when she got brain freeze.

At one point, she tried to make you laugh mid spoonful and nearly made you drop it all over her dashboard.

“Ellie, focus on the road!” you shrieked through laughter, one hand gripping the dashboard as she cackled beside you.

“You’re the one that lacks feeding skills” she said, eyes crinkling with joy.

By the time you pulled up to your apartment, The sun had already dipped low. The sky outside was getting darker, the moon already visible, it was cold and quiet in that early night way. Ellie parked just outside the building, fingers drumming absently against the steering wheel.

You turned to her, both of you still glowing from the laughter that had filled the car ten minutes earlier, you feeding her spoonfuls of frozen yogurt like a menace, almost causing a near death experience from a brain freeze at a red light.

“Thanks for driving,” you said, unbuckling your seatbelt. “And for the dress thing. And the yogurt. And surviving the Cat ambush.”

Ellie chuckled, rubbing a hand over her face. “Barely survived, but yeah. Anytime.”

There was a pause that lingered, just a second too long, where neither of you moved. You reached for the door handle, hesitating. “I’ll see you Saturday?”

Ellie nodded, her voice low. “Yeah. I’ll be here early. Gotta make sure you don’t punk out on me.”

You smiled at her. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

You stepped out and gave the side of her truck a light tap before heading toward your building, turning just once to wave. She waved back, leaning her elbow on the open window, watching until you disappeared inside.

Later that night, Ellie sat on the edge of her bed, barefoot, still wearing the black hoodie she hadn’t changed out of since that morning. Her studio lights were off for once, the room only lit by the soft glow of her phone screen. A half edited photo sat abandoned on her laptop.

She had told herself she wouldn’t overthink it, that you were just her best friend, and that the zipper moment and the way your laugh lingered in her head wasn’t anything serious.

But then you smiled at her like that. Like you trusted her with something small and precious. And it killed her in the quietest, stupidest way.

She flopped back onto her bed, arms spread wide, eyes burning into the ceiling.

“Fucking idiot,” she muttered under her breath, dragging a hand over her face.

She reached for her journal out of instinct, but stopped halfway.

No sketches tonight.

Because no matter how many times she put you on paper, none of it could match how it felt to see you. Really see you, and know she couldn’t touch. Couldn’t tell you.

Not yet. Not ever.

So she grabbed her pillow, buried her face in it, and groaned loud into the silence.

Saturday was going to be interesting. Don’t fuck this up.

୨୧─── ⋆୨୧⋆ ───୨୧─── ⋆୨୧⋆ ───୨୧─── ⋆୨୧⋆ ───୨୧

taglist ♡‧₊˚₊✧

@adoreasconnie @liasxeatt @80saturn @eleanorsghost @youusunshineyoutemptress @jazzyxox @lesoulew @fangirlinc @hitmehardmommy @liztreez @chwekriz00 @vahnilla @elliespotion @haithone

lmk if anyone wants to be added!

[sacredsorceress]

Cass 🤍

I'm so glad your requests are open!!!! So I was thinking for a request, could be head canons or not. What would it be like for Bob shy and awkward guy vs reader who's very extroverted and open. I think there could be a fun dynamic there.

🥹🤍

☆.°*Bob Dating an Extrovert HCs*°.☆

pairing: bob reynolds x extrovert!reader a/n: OO YAY!! as an extroverted person with an introverted bf this is so my cup of tea. i’ll do headcanons now but I def want to explore this in a full fic soon <3 word count: 1k warnings: none I think? fluff!!

☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・bob masterlist・°☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆

Bob felt some days that there must have been some magnetic pull or magic spell that you had on people that just made them gravitate towards you in a ways no one ever did towards him.

On many an outing, Bob had stood awkwardly at your side as you gave an old man directions, laughed along to a joke that some lady at the crosswalk said, or cheerfully shared where you got your outfit from after a compliment from a stranger.

And he wasn't confused, per say. Bob understood why people gravitated towards you- you had friendly demeanor, kind eyes and an infectious smile that you passed on freely to everyone you saw. People had to try not to like you.

What he couldn't understand is how you so confidently engaged with so many people. If he had been in your shoes, he would have fumbled over his sentences and somehow manage to disgruntle the other party. As kind as Bob was, as you assured him many a time, he just didn't draw people the way you did.

Really, it was just another thing that he loved about you: that your view of the world, experiences, and people were so different from his.

That being said, if you had a lot of friends he would be so nervous to meet them.

Bob would almost try to get out of it- rehearsing his faux illness to save him the embarrassment of making a fool out of himself in front of the people who mattered most to you-

but in the end, he would go. Bob may have been scared, but you were his girlfriend. His fear of disappointing you and seeing the sad "oh... okay" on your face as he lied to you was greater than his fear of a night out.

When he did meet them, you'd have to hold his hand to ground him.

But obviously, even with his meekness, it went swimmingly, with your friends even commending him on being able to balance you out.

Opposites attract after all.

Some things won't change for Bob. As I've mentioned before, Bob has an addictive personality and would stay far away from a night out drinking. Although being with you had brought him out of his shell more, there were simply some things that he wouldn't do.

If you had a night out without him, Bob would be waiting up for you in bed reading. The second you walked through the door, he'd mark his place in the book, look up at you, and wait for you to repeat the whole night for him verbatim.

"And then- oh my god, Bob, you wouldn't believe it-"

And he would listen just enough to be able to answer any questions you might quiz him on, but mostly he'd just be admiring how pretty you look talking about your friends in the warm glow of the lamplight.

Though he may be sober now, Bob is no stranger being drunk or having a hangover. If you walked in the door stumbling after a night out, he'd guide you into the bathroom, tie back your hair and get you ready for bed: with medication and water waiting on the nightstand for the morning.

If you were in the habit of having friends stay over, Bob would make up the pull out couch, no questions asked, stock the fridge and leave snacks out for your guests.

"Bob, I love you." Your friend would groan flopping onto the freshly washed sheets. "Can you marry her already?"

And it was moments like that where his cheeks burned bright red and he excused himself to the other room to avoid stumbling over his words and embarrassing himself further.

Whether you intended to or not, you would often share stories with others from your relationship with Bob. In your case, they often slipped out when telling an unrelated story that you had gone off track on, or you simply didn't think it was anything worth keeping secret.

You were an open book and your love for Bob was nothing to be ashamed about.

Bob wouldn't even know until he'd be walking into the kitchen of the Avengers Tower one day and everyone would just look at him.

"Bob, why did you not tell us that you keep picture of team in your wallet?" Alexei asked.

"Forget that," John interrupted, mouth full of cereal. "Why do you hide it behind your condoms?"

And if it were not for the Sentry serum pumping through his veins, Bob was sure he would've died of mortification on the spot.

But Bob couldn't even find it in himself to be upset with you because you not being able to stop yourself from talking about him just made his heart swell.

So many people loved you in this life, and you still chose to love him. He really wasn't sure he would ever understand it, but he would try his best to prove you right.

You would have to go with him to his doctors appointments if something was wrong because Bob would be too embarrassed to discuss his body with another person like that.

If the Void ever did make an appearance, he would hate you. He thrives off of Bob's loneliness, but being with you made that impossible. You effortlessly merged him into your daily life and relationships, making enough time for Bob to be alone with his thoughts long enough to spiral, extremely rare.

Your friends would become his friends and vice versa.

On the rare occasion your social battery died or someone had hurt your feelings, rendering you silent, it was as if Bob's backup system had booted up. He'd glance at you worriedly, reaching for your hand and take over the remainder of the conversation: either insisting to your friends that it was time to head home or defending your honor against some asshole.

Even if he stumbled over his words doing it, watching him take care of you like that did make you swoon.

I feel like I could go on about this all day, but Bob would be perfect with an extroverted partner. Opposites attract and your conflicting personalities would bring balance to one another- you getting Bob more out of his shell and confident in his own skin, while he kept you grounded, safe, and loved in the privacy of your own little bubble.

☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・inbox・°☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆

[autism-corner]

( ｡ •̀ ᴗ •́ ｡)

[notlongtolove]

time present and time past

spencer tried to explain einstein’s theory of relativity once. and now, with spencer beside you in bed, you think you finally understand what he was on about. because time is relative. and if he doesn’t wake up, this moment will never end, and maybe you can slow down time itself. this work is part of the burnt norton series

pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader (second person, no y/n)

genre: angst

content: situationship core. they argue. avoidant!-ish.

word count: 3.4k

note: i have a final in 3 days and thought now would be the perfect time to write and post my first fic. yay! anyways this is inspired by an old literature text i studied, einstein's theory of relativity and what not. a line: I’ll come to you before you call—Just to prove that I don’t come to you every time you call.

time present and time past are both perhaps present in time future, and time future contained in time past. if all time is eternally present all time is unredeemable. - t.s. eliot

You've never been one for physics, the numbers, the theories, the science of it all. But that’s never stopped Spencer from launching into explanations like a rocket whenever the chance presents itself. You would nod along, a smile on your face though whatever he's saying might as well be in a foreign language. 

He tried to explain Einstein’s theory of relativity once. Something about clocks, something about a kind of gravitational field. 

“Think of it like this,” he started, and you could almost picture him gesturing animatedly on the other end of the line. “I’m on the jet, and I run down the aisle in five seconds. From my perspective, that’s it—five seconds, straight forward, simple.”

“Hotch would kill you,” you cut in, biting back a grin at the thought.

“Just imagine it,” Spencer laughed.

“Okay, okay.”

“So, if you time me, and I make it down the aisle in five seconds—”

“Highly unlikely, but sure.”

“Angel,” he warned, but there was no real bite in it. He waited for your giggles to subside before pressing on, “but for you, watching me from outside as the jet moves, it’s not so simple. You’d see me running, sure, but you’d also have to factor in the jet’s movement. To you, I’m covering more distance because the jet is moving too, right?”

“If you say so...”

“Just focus,” he laughed. “Now, here’s where it gets interesting. The faster the jet goes, the bigger this effect becomes. If it were moving close to the speed of light, something wild happens—time for me, inside the jet, starts to move at a slower rate compared to your time outside.”

“Ah.”

“You don’t get it.”

“No, I do. I do.”

“Okay, so explain it.”

You paused, your lips twitching with suppressed laughter. “Uh… You can run faster than a jet?”

Spencer groaned, but he was laughing too. “Time moves slower for those in the jet because space and time are connected,” he said, his voice warming with excitement. "They stretch and bend depending on speed. It’s called time dilation. The faster you move through space, the slower time moves for you relative to someone standing still."

“...I think I get it?”

“Not yet, but you will.”

He promised to explain it more when he got back. But he never did. And so you never really understood it—at least, not until now.

Not until he’s lying in your bed again, your sheets tangled around him like they’ve claimed him as their own.

Einstein says that time is relative. He says that the rate at which time passes depends on an observer's frame of reference. 

The observer in this case—You. 

And if one observer moves at the speed of light, time will slow down for them. 

Spencer’s asleep beside you. His face is soft in the flickers of streetlight creeping through the blinds. They give you just enough visibility to watch the rise and fall of his chest and you wonder if he's dreaming. The sound of his breathing, steady, is the only thing keeping you tethered.

If you squint hard enough, there’s almost something domestic about the scene. You ignore the fact that this is the nth time you’ve done this because ignoring is easier. It’s easier to think about how he smells like his shampoo, and how his shirt is thrown haphazardly over your nightstand. A sight you missed more than you would admit. You think about reaching for it, but your hand stays where it is. You stay where you are—just watching, observing. Because Einstein said the rate at which time passes depends on the observer’s frame of reference. And if you stay still enough, maybe you can slow down time itself. 

You like moments like these. The simplicity of it. You tell your friends the same thing when they ask, their voices thick with judgment, their eyes too knowing. “We don’t do anything” you insist to the room of raised eyebrows. “We’re just hanging out, you know, as friends” you say, as if saying it enough times will make it true.

“Just hanging out?” “Yup.” 

“As friends?” “Yup.”

You know you’ve hit a new low when you have to pull the ‘hanging out’ card, but you take a sort of comfort in that fact. Because at least he’s not like those other guys, right? That’s your silver lining. That it’s not like that. He’s not like that. But in the quiet after, when his breathing is the only sound and you feel walls closing in you, you can't help but wonder which is worse: the thing that he is, or the thing you’re letting yourself become.

You reached out first this time. A small victory in the game you’ve been playing against yourself. There’s some semblance of control in it, you rationalize. If you’re bound to fall, tethered to this fate of always crawling back, at least let it be on your terms.

I’ll come to you before you call—Just to prove that I don’t come to you every time you call.

Come over. Made too much pasta. You texted. It’s an olive branch, a peace offering after a fight that had left you both frayed at the edges. A throw of the same old ball back to his side of the court where the game has dragged on far too long. Proof to him that you didn’t mean what you’d said, that you’re not done yet. That you’re still okay with this.

You can take it. 

The fight had been about work—or at least, that’s how it started. He’d mentioned a new trainee in passing, his voice light, almost too casual, as he spooned rice out of the takeout box. “She’s new,” he said, with a shrug. “Eager, maybe too eager. Emily says she’s a bit of a people pleaser.”

She. You watched him carefully, trying to read between the lines. 

“Oh?” you replied, keeping your voice as even as you could manage. Muscle memory. You’ve been here before. Just because Spencer wasn't one of those guys didn't mean you haven't had your fair share of them. 

You smile as you meet his eyes asking all the right questions. Where’s she from? How’s she doing?

He glanced up at you, surprised by your interest. Light work you thought. “Somewhere out West, I think. She’s doing fine—rookie mistakes, you know. She had a bad day last week, though. Got rattled on a case. Garcia said Hotch was too hard on her.”

“Poor thing,” you murmured, “Hope she’s feeling better.”

“Garcia thought I… thought she was pretty,” he added laughing, the words tumbling out like an afterthought. Like the words don’t hold the weight that he knows it does. 

Ah. There it is.

“Well, did you?” you asked, trying to keep your voice steady, casual.

“She’s… alright,” he said, his tone too high, too quick. You didn’t miss the way he swallowed hard afterward.

“You’re avoiding the question,” you teased lightly, smiling even though your stomach was beginning to twist itself into knots.

“I’m not,” he countered, shoving another bite of food into his mouth. “You asked if she’s pretty, and I said she’s alright.”

“You’re totally avoiding it,” you said, laughing to keep the air light even as the knot pulled tighter. “Spence, you can just say it.”

“Say what?” he asked, eyes darting up to meet yours, then back to his plate.

“Just say it.”

“I don’t know what you want from me.”

“Admit that she’s pretty.”

“Okay.” He exhaled sharply, like the word had been dragged out of him. “I think she’s pretty.”

Oh.

There was something in the way he said that made your chest constrict. 

I think she’s pretty.

He thinks she’s pretty. Not like it was some objective fact, not something calculated or reasoned. Not that she was statistically pretty, backed up by some symmetry or math behind it. He just… thought so—No, he thinks so. Thinks. Present tense. Meaning as he’s sitting here, across from you, eating the takeout you suspected he’d purposefully ordered too much of, he thinks she’s pretty.

You stared down at your plate, your appetite long gone. The silence stretched between you, heavy and uncomfortable. You could hear the faint hum of the refrigerator, the distant murmur of voices from the apartment next door.

“You’re quiet,” he said finally, his voice softer now, hesitant.

“I’m fine,” you replied too quickly, a smile pasted on your face as you looked up. “Just thinking.”

“About?”

You shook your head, forcing a smile. “Nothing. Pass the soy sauce?” He passed it without another word, but you could feel his eyes lingering on you. 

“Why are you looking at me like that?” you finally said, your voice sharper than you intended.

“I’m not,” Spencer replied defensively, though his eyes stayed trained on you. “You’re just… quiet. It’s not like you.”

“Yeah, well, maybe I’ve run out of things to say.”

“Is this because I said she’s pretty? Because I didn’t want—”

“Spencer stop,” you interrupted, setting your fork down with a deliberate clink against your plate.

“I wasn’t going to say it. You asked me to say it.” he countered. “And the term pretty is subjective anyway, I think you’re pretty too.” You stayed silent, not meeting his eyes. “Don’t be like that. You know I care about you.”

“It sure doesn’t feel like it.”

You knew you were being petty. Acting like a child who didn’t get their way, grasping at anything to make the hurt feel justified. But you couldn’t help it.

“You just—you talk about work, about—god, about pretty girls and I—”, You stopped, swallowing hard, trying to tamp down the words you weren’t ready to say. “I feel like I’m just… here. Someone you call when you’re bored or when you’ve ordered too much food or when—”

“That’s not true,” he argued, his tone sharp now, “You’re twisting it—”

“Am I?” you snapped, your eyes finally meeting his. They were wide, startled, but it didn’t stop you. “Because I’m starting to think this is exactly what it is.”

“Well, what do you think this is?” Spencer’s jaw tightened as his hands gripped the edge of the table.

“I don’t know,” you said bitterly. “Why don’t you tell me?”

“We’ve talked about this,” Spencer said, each word cutting deeper than the last. “You said you wanted to be friends. Friends do this. Friends have dinner. Friends don’t force someone to admit someone else is pretty and then make it all—I don't know, all weird after.”

You winced, his phrasing like a mirror reflecting every misstep, every conversation where you’d backed yourself into this corner. He’s not wrong—you had said you wanted to be friends. But he didn’t know the weight behind that concession.

You’d thought back to those late-night conversations. The ones where he’d laid out his reasons like a clinical diagnosis: I don’t have the time. It wouldn’t be fair to you. I’m not ready. So, you’d waited, convincing yourself that 'not now' meant 'not yet'. But eventually, you’d called it yourself, told him you should just be friends. A sad attempt at controlling a situation you were only ever destined to be hurt by. Because your own destruction should only ever be yours to wield—and you have to claim it before it can claim you.

He’d agreed it was better this way and you’d nodded along. Not because you believed it, but because it was a way to keep him in your life. A lifeline you clung to no matter how much it cut into your hands. But labels don’t erase what’s already happened. They don’t undo the stolen glances, the kisses in the quiet moments, the nights where you felt like the only two people in the world. They just build a fragile scaffold over it all, a flimsy way of holding up what’s already crumbling. Dating. On a break. Dating again. Friends. They pile on top of one another like a pathetic plaster over the hurt of what you wished things could be. 

“Right,” you said finally, the word brittle and sharp as it escapes your lips. Your voice was hollow as your eyes met his, daring him to flinch. “So I guess that means I can’t expect anything from you, right? No decency, no consideration, no… nothing. Because we’re not in a relationship. We’ve never been in a relationship. Right?”

“Don’t,” Spencer said quietly, almost pleading now. “That’s not fair. Don’t turn this into something it’s not.”

“You’ve made it perfectly clear what this is,” you said, standing from the table, your hands trembling as you gathered your things. 

“Wait,” he said, standing too, “You don’t have to—”

“And by the way, Spence,” you cut him off, reaching into your bag and slamming the extra key he’d given you months ago onto the table. It clattered louder than you expected, echoing in the tense silence between you. “You can have this back. Because last I checked, friends don’t have keys to each other’s apartments.” You were acutely aware of the venom dripping in your voice but you pressed on, the words spilling out before you could stop them. “And thanks for the flowers, but I don’t think friends go out of their way to buy a bouquet to make up for every friendly dinner they miss.” You didn’t wait for a response. You didn’t look at his face, didn’t want to see whatever expression he was wearing. 

But the satisfaction of that slam felt distant now. You think back fondly of the girl who had made her point so clear, so definitive. A line drawn in the sand. But winds blow and sand moves. That girl seems like a lifetime away from the girl you are now—the one lying here, beside him, again.

Spencer stirs beside you, a quiet sigh escaping his lips, and your breath hitches. You don’t want him to wake up. Because if—when he does, you know he’ll leave. But until then, in this moment of temporary serenity, you can pretend it doesn’t matter. You can pretend it’s okay. You can pretend you’re okay. 

After all, Einstein said that time is relative. If he doesn’t wake up, the moment will never end, and maybe—just maybe—you can slow down time itself. You stare at the ceiling, letting the minutes tick past, each one stretching longer than the last.

Your thoughts drift back to what Spencer had said. Time moves slower for those in the jet.

Well, if your apartment is the sky, then this bed is the jet. In the quiet of this moment, his warmth beside you, the faint smell of him lingering on the pillow—this is where time bends. The rate at which time passes depends on the observer’s frame of reference. Maybe you can trick the universe, make these seconds stretch into hours. Maybe, if you stay still enough, think hard enough, the world outside won’t come knocking. You can freeze this bubble of peace.

But the illusion is tenuous, and reality looms like turbulence on the horizon. Time doesn’t truly stop, you know that, we’re all forced to move on along with it. They say time waits for no man—least of all a broken-hearted girl. The clock keeps ticking, indifferent to your longing. Sooner or later, he’ll wake, and the bubble will burst.

You wonder how long you can keep this up. You’d just been talking earlier tonight, telling each other what had happened in the days you hadn’t spoken since the argument. The words had come easier than you expected, though none of them seemed to solve anything. Spencer had fallen asleep mid-sentence, right as you were recounting something trivial about your day. His exhaustion was written all over his face—the heavy pull of his eyelids, the way his head tilted slightly toward you before finally giving in. You’d paused, watching him, and the words you were about to say dissolved into silence. You hadn’t wanted to wake him.

The old you would’ve been angry, the frustration bubbling up into sharp words and accusations. The fight was always the same, well-rehearsed and raw: You always do this. I’m sorry. When are you not? I missed you. Then why won’t you stay? You know I can’t. You can. I can’t. It was less of a conversation and more of a script. It had long since stopped being about what either of you said; it was about how you said it and where it always led. It would’ve ended in a fight, Spencer’s guilt countered by your hurt, spiralling into a familiar standoff with no real resolution. 

But that was the old you. She’d had more fight in her, more fire to demand the things she felt she deserved. That fire has dimmed now, not extinguished, but banked low and steady, like you’ve learned to ration it. It’s not that the frustration has disappeared—it lingers, an ache beneath the surface—but you’ve stopped letting it boil over. Deep down, you know the real reason you didn’t start a fight tonight. It’s not just that you’re tired of fighting, though you are. It’s that you don’t know how much fight he still has in him. You don’t know if one more argument, one more crack in this fragile thing between you, will be the thing that makes him walk away for good.

And you’re not ready to find out.

So you let it slide. Not because you want to, but because you can. You’ve told yourself you’re strong enough to carry it—to make up the weight of his distance, his exhaustion, his inability to give you what you need. You let him sleep, listening to the steady rhythm of his breathing, and you tell yourself it’s enough. 

But Spencer shifts again, and this time his eyes flutter open. You freeze, your body tense, as if staying perfectly still might undo his wakefulness. 

“Hey,” he murmurs groggily, his voice thick with sleep. His arm snakes over your waist, pulling you closer. For a brief, fleeting second, you allow yourself to relish the warmth of his touch, the illusion of intimacy.

Then his hand moves. He’s reaching—not for you, but for his watch on the bedside table.

He checks the time, squinting in the dim light filtering through the blinds. And you know. You know what’s coming next. 

“I should go.” he says softly, his arm already retreating from where it had rested over your waist. He pushes himself up, running a hand through his sleep-mussed hair.

You sit up slightly, the sheets pooling around you, and force a small smile. “Okay” you murmur, the words feeling hollow even as they leave your lips.

Spencer’s already out of bed, reaching for his shirt and bag. The routine feels mechanical, practiced—a series of motions he’s repeated so many times it barely registers as something that could hurt you. He pulls the shirt over his head, adjusts the strap on his bag, and leans down to kiss your forehead. Friends, as if. You think.

It’s a fleeting gesture, a touch that’s supposed to mean something but feels more like a formality now. More perfunctory than tender.

“I’m sorry I fell asleep,” he says as he straightens, glancing at his watch like he’s late for something more important. “You should’ve woken me up.”

You shake your head silently, not trusting that your thoughts won’t betray you. Don’t wake up. Don’t leave me. Don’t go. Instead you settle for, “You were tired. You should get some rest.” The weight in your chest feels unbearable but you press your lips into a tight, strained smile anyways. A silent permission for him to leave.

He doesn’t hesitate.

“Drive safe,” you say quietly as you walk him to the door.

“I’ll text you?” he offers, already halfway out.

“Okay,” you reply, the word barely audible.

And then he’s gone.

The sound of the door clicking shut echoes in the quiet of your apartment, final and unrelenting. You stand there for a moment, staring at the door as if willing it to open again, as if hoping he might turn around and come back. You know he won’t. 

You turn and lean against the wall, the cool surface grounding you, a poor substitute for the warmth that was just beside you. The apartment feels colder, emptier now, the silence deafening. The clock on the wall ticks forward, oblivious to your grief, dragging you further away from the moment he was just here. You feel stuck in place, a reluctant passenger watching the world rush forward while you’re left behind, stranded.

You think back to what Einstein had said and you think he’s got it all wrong. How if one observer moves at the speed of light, time will slow down for them. Because no matter how tightly you try to hold on, the jet doesn’t slow down. It won’t wait for you. The jet will keep moving forward, unrelenting, and him along with it. With or without you.

And as you stand alone in the stillness he’s left behind, you realize it’s always been without you.

⋆✴︎˚｡⋆ hi if you're here! thank you for reading! feel free to like or reblog or comment or reply!

[scorpioriesling]

Hey girlie, I love that so many of your fics have song references! (I love me some Taylor yay)

That got me thinking, and my favorite character from fourth wing is Garrick (he deserves way more love and attention) and I was wondering if you could do a story based on tates miss possessive where he and reader are in a relationship but (ass we all knoe and I love her) Imogen has a thing for him and reader doesn't like it?

Thank you <3

Miss Possessive

･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *

Pairing(s): Garrick x reader

Warning(s): angst, fluff at end, jealousy, injury

Summary: You don't take well to other women going after things that are yours -- especially not sassy, pink-haired, third years.

SR’s Note: Yessss my favorite thing about Tumblr is actually making friends on here, and connecting with readers and writers alike! Whether it be music, books, fandoms and more -- I love meeting new people and seeing the common interests we have! I tried to deliver as best I could, and I hope you like this!

Tags: @mellowmusings @rcarbo1 @lilah-asteria @bookofriverr @kitsunetori @velarisdusk @nctsawrus @lreadsstuff @freakishfandomfiend @littleemissperfecttt @loveofmychips @bodhidurrans (inbox me or comment if you'd like to be added!)

･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *

Your fork speared another green bean, your eyes never glancing down at the plate. The metal scratched against the porcelain of the dish, and Violet looked sidelong at you. It didn't take long for your closest friend to realize what had enraptured your attention -- your eyes had given it away. You stared straight ahead, directly across the mess hall to the table along the back wall.

"Oh Gods not this again," she uttered softly. You swallowed, spearing a carrot this time. Garrick sat with the other third-years, laughing and cutting up over something so hilarious. Your gaze turned scowl, especially when Imogen's hand brushed his arm. She needed to get her hands, off, your man.

This time, your fork scraped across your plate.

"Jesus, Christ!" Ridoc groaned, staring at you. "Why torture all of us with that horrible sound?"

Violet smirked, laying a comforting hand on your shoulder. You were growing increasingly irritated as Imogen laughed at something Garrick said -- over-animatedly, if it were up to you. You knew Garrick was funny, sure; but that girl was always doing the most when it came to him. Little did she know, he was yours.

"Hey, stare a little harder why don't you -- maybe you'll burn a hole through her skull." Violet teased. Your stare faltered at this, looking to your friend as she looked to you expectantly. "You can't be mad at her for sitting with her friends, Y/N."

You rolled your eyes, huffing.

"Yeah, but I can be mad at her for trying to steal my man."

"Oh, so you finally asked him out then?" Ridoc piped up. You growled, crossing your arms.

Violet only sighed. "No," she said, answering for you. "No, she hasn't yet."

Ridoc chuckled. "So, you're pissed at Imogen, because she's flirting with your boyfriend who's not your boyfriend?"

You banged a fist on the table, the silverware atop it clamoring. The entire table looked at you as you stood instantly, anger flaring inside.

"I'm going to the gym."

It was all you said before tossing your leftovers, and heading for the double doored exit. You passed Garrick's table, but he was too busy nudging Bodhi in the side to register you passing by.

But, out of the corner of your eye, you realized the pink haired female did.

✧･ﾟ: *

The sun was setting low on the horizon, the gym still empty. You huffed and panted as you swung your fists against the punching bag, the pain in your knuckles barely registering after going at it for so long. Music blared in your headphones, the angry lyrics prompting you further. You hadn't heard nor noticed the gym door opening, not until a soft touch to your shoulder had you whirling.

"Woah! Woah!" The voice sounded as though it was underwater, and you instantly lowered your fist and yanked out your earbuds. Before you stood none other than Garrick, hands raised in surrender.

"Oh gosh," you wheezed, arms on your hips as you worked to calm your racing heart. "You really gave me a scare!"

Garrick laughed sheepishly, his beautiful straight teeth shining through. Your heart, already skipping at the sight of him before you, lurched at the sight. Gods, he really was the most handsome man you'd ever seen.

"Sorry -- I just came by to get a few reps in myself, and I noticed... your form," he winced. You squared your shoulders, raising an eyebrow.

"My, what?"

He grinned, a simple in his left cheek popping out.

"Your form," he explained, dropping his gym bag to the ground. He squared off before the bag, bringing his raised fists into a fighting stance. "You tend to hit like this," he demonstrated, punching forward slowly. "But, that'll do you some damage after time. To preserve your knuckles, you need to hit like this," he extended his arm again, demonstrating the wrist rotation you'd been lacking. You nodded in understanding.

"I see."

"Here," he stepped aside, allowing you to stand before the bag once more. "Give it a go."

You sighed softly, spreading your feet to square off before the mat once more. You raised your fists, readying to throw a punch -- but, your breath caught in your throat as Garrick's hands braced your hips.

"Oh, and you'll want to angle yourself this way too," he said softly. His breath graced your neck, and you could've melted beneath his touch. Only when he released you did you breathe again, trying to regain focus on the task at hand. You threw a few punches, trying to imitate what Garrick had showed you -- but you weren't quite doing them just right.

Garrick frowned, biting the inside of his cheek.

"I'm not sure, Y/N -- something still looks off." His brows furrowed in concentration. That's when a lightbulb went off in your head.

"You're right, I don't think I'm quite getting it," you said innocently. You stepped forward, arms crossing beneath your breasts. "Maybe I need a tutor, or a trainer, I guess."

Garrick nodded in agreement.

"That might actually help a lot," he said, and your cheeks heated beneath the weight of his gaze. You sighed, shrugging your shoulders.

"I mean, I'm sure anyone else could help me but... you always spar so well, I think it'd be best if you trained me," you said sweetly. His brows shot up at this, clearly thinking over the idea.

"Me? Oh, I mean... yeah, that's an idea," he said, mulling it over. You swallowed, taking another step toward him.

"What about right now?" You asked. He chuckled nervously, a hand reaching to scratch the back of his head.

"Oh! I don't think I'll be able to tonight, unfortunately," he said apologetically. You pouted, sticking out your bottom lip. "I already told Imogen I'd spar with her-"

"Wait. What?" You couldn't help but interrupt. He only shrugged.

"Yeah, I mean with challenges at the end of next week, she asked me to work with her tonight, and I said sure. She's a really good friend, Y/N, I couldn't just cancel on her."

You huffed, rolling your eyes. Your attention was stolen as the gym doors opened again -- this time, the bane of your existance walking through them with her bright pink hair.

Garrick turned back to you, placing a promising hand on your shoulder.

"What are you up to tomorrow?" He asked, his eyes locked onto yours. You stared up at him, though the pink streak in your field of vision was drawing closer and closer.

"Nothing -- absolutely nothing," you said. A lie, sure -- you had promised Violet you'd study with her. But, she'd understand, especially if it meant you'd get some one-on-one time with Garrick.

He nodded. "Perfect -- I'll meet you here at seven?"

You shrugged, feigning nonchalance.

"Sounds like it'll work for me."

Garrick's hand dropped as Imogen stalked closer, tossing her duffel loudly onto the floor. She sighed as she stretched, arching her back and crossing her arms side to side. You'd had just about enough of that, and on that note, bid your crush goodbye.

✧･ﾟ: *

"Seriously? We made these plans days ago."

So, Violet wasn't as chill about cancelling study plans afterall. She frowned at you from her bed, watching as you secured your hair in a ponytail across the room.

"I'm sorry Vi -- I just had something come up. An important something, might I add," you added with a hint of intrigue. Violet only sighed.

"We take the test Monday," she griped, shaking her head. "I do get that it's a Friday night, but what could have possibly come up that is more important than passing it?"

You secured the ponytail around your thick strands. "Trust me, Vi -- it's not something I can just reschedule."

She shrugged, hopping off her bed.

"Well, then I wish you the best of luck on Monday."

✧･ﾟ: *

You checked the time again. 6:45. You were early. Unsurprising, as you'd been pacing your room for hours, waiting for seven to come -- but, now that you were here at the gym, the nerves began to creep in. Adrenaline flowed through you as you paced before the gym doors, not wanting to go in too early.

There wasn't much time left, you supposed. You pushed through the entry, taking stock of the empty gym -- well, almost empty. To the left, near the weight racks, Garrick grunted, his muscles flexed and bare chest sweaty.

The sight nearly took your breath away.

He grunted again as he lifted the weights, his muscles straining and veins more visible as you approached. His biceps bulged as he lifted the bar up again, this time dropping it onto the rack with a satisfied huff. He sat up, panting, though his eyes caught on you.

"Hey," he said breathlessly, making to stand. You set down your things, undoing and resecuring the wraps around your knuckles anxiously.

"H-Hi," you mumbled, straining to keep your gaze away from his bare, toned chest. He approached you, running his fingers through his hair as he took in heavy breaths.

"You ready to get started?" He asked, and you nodded. "Did you stretch?"

You bit the inside of your cheek at this.

"No," you admitted. He shook his head as a small grin tilted the corners of his lips.

"You want to stretch before working out -- every time," he insisted. You dropped to your knees, sitting back as you straightened your legs before you. He joined you on the floor, watching as you slowly prepared your body for the exercises.

"Not stretching will only ever result in injury."

✧･ﾟ: *

When Monday morning came, you found it hard to sit still in Duvera's class. The test lay before you, the one you neglected to study for -- and Violet sat to your left, side-eyeing you. She'd picked up on something, watching you practically skip down the halls all weekend with glee. What she didn't know was that your cancelled plans Friday night were the reason why.

Your eyes glazed over as you read the question again, one of the last ones on the exam. What year was Basgiath War College founded? Shit, you didn't know the answer. Only a small seed of regret bloomed in your chest as you considered it -- maybe taking a little time to study would've been helpful. But, that would have meant less time with Garrick-

"Five minutes, cadets!"

Duvera's warning caused you to panic. You frantically filled out the rest of your paper, scrambling to bring it to her desk as the bell rang. Violet followed you out, flanking your side when you made it to the main hallway.

"How do you think you did?"

You shrugged, unable to look at her. "Not as well as I could've, if I would've studied."

She chuckled, nudging your side.

"Well, I think I did pretty good -- no good worrying over it now though." She said. As the two of you rounded the corner, your heart stopped beating in your chest. Just down the hall, Garrick held open the doors to the sparring ring, allowing Imogen to walk through. Her grateful expression only kindled the hate flames inside of you -- his smirk set them ablaze.

"What's gotten into you?" Violet asks, following as you walked quicker toward the sparring ring. You peeked inside, noticing quite a few other third years inside. Graciously, Imogen wasn't talking to Garrick this time -- she was in deep conversation with Quinn and a few others. Garrick's back was to the door, but you knew without a doubt it was him.

"Nothing, nothing," you responded absentmindedly. Violet huffed, looking around as the hall began to clear.

"It doesn't seem like nothing -- c'mon, we're gonna be late for land nav," she pleaded. You tore your eyes from the peephole, following as Violet took off for your second lecture of the day.

Fucking Imogen.

The bane of your existence, Imogen.

✧･ﾟ: *

You tried not to think about the poor grade you recieved on your exam as your fist connected with the bag once more. Garrick stood to your right, coaching your every move.

"Good, now go faster -- yes!" He praised as your knuckles hit the targeted area. You paused, breathing heavy as you turned to face him. His expression was full of delight, his smile full of teeth as he looked at you.

"You've gotten a lot better at this, Y/N," he complimented, reaching to grab your waterbottle from behind him. He handed it to you and your fingers brushed his as you took it -- your beart skipping a beat.

"Do you think you're ready for mat training?"

You nearly choked on your water, the suggestion surprising.

"M-mat? Training?"

He chuckled, taking the bottle from you and setting it near the punching bag.

"Yes -- I think it could really help you, especially with challenges coming this weekend," he explained. Your heart sank as you registered his words -- sure, you could hold your own on the mat. But with challenges only continuing to get harder and harder, you could actually benefit from a few pointers.

"Yeah, actually that sounds great... should we start tonight?"

"It'll have to wait until tomorrow -- I'm using this area for the rest of the night."

Your blood ran cold as you turned, coming face-to-face with Imogen. Her words were spoken firmly, as though she had no doubt whatever she said would go. Garrick chuckled, rubbing his hands together nervously.

"Gen, what are you even talking about. We can't share?"

She scoffed, her gaze narrowing in on you. "No, we can't. And you only reserved the gym for training until nine -- I have it until closing time later."

You glared at her, but she only chuckled. Garrick tilted his head, curious and oblivious to the silent war waging between the two of you.

"Why do you need the whole gym to yourself?" He asked. Her feline grin turned feral in response.

"It's not just for me -- I've taken on a little second year in need of some training, myself," she quipped. You folded your arms.

"Who?" You demanded. She smirked, and your eyes widened as a familiar, silvery braid approached behind her.

You stared, shocked and horrified as Violet walked up to you, a sheepish smile on her face. "Hey, Y/N."

Your brows narrowed, your blood boiling. "Violet -- what are you doing here?"

"She needed my help," Imogen snapped. Violet stared quietly at you, watching as you shook your head slowly. "Her best friend started taking private lessons, anyway -- why shouldn't she?"

You growled. "It's not the private lessons that are the problem," you said lowly. Imogen raised an eyebrow.

"Oh? Then what is?"

You glared at her, your face flushing in embarassment. Violet shot you an apologetic look, but you ignored it. Instead, you yanked your bag up off the floor, huffing and striding for the exit.

"Great work tonight!" Garrick called. You didn't turn to face him, his voice fading as you shoved through the exit doors. "We'll practice more tomorrow!"

✧･ﾟ: *

You'd trained with Garrick so many times now, you realized you felt the most comfortable being around him. He always kept things so professional with you though, and you wished he'd break free of that facade and act instead.

Thank again, he'd only ever been cordial with you. But tonight -- oh, tonight, you knew you could break him.

Strutting into the gym, you tilted your chin high. The last few riders exited as you strode in, eyeing you and flat out gawking as you passed them by. You didn't mind, that was the point, anyway -- now you could only hope Garrick would take the bait.

"Hi Garrick," you said smoothly, your hips swaying as you sauntered up to him. Bodhi and Dain paused mid conversation, the officer's eyes unabashedly roving over your form. Your Wingleader was more subtle about it though, covering up his interest with a strained cough.

"Oh! Shit, sorry, I didn't realize it was so late," Dain said, purposefully averting his eyes. Garrick turned, his eyes landing right where you wanted them too as he took you in.

"No worries, I'm a few minutes early anyways," you said, smiling sweetly. Dain moved to leave the room, yet Bodhi still stared, enraptured.

"Y'know... if Garrick is ever busy, I'm more than happy to-"

The back of Garrick's hand met his friend's chest, halting his sentence.

"No need, Bodhi -- Y/N knows I always have time for her, don't you Y/N?"

You peered up at him innocently, and Bodhi shook his curls softly.

"Right... well... I'll leave you two to it, I guess." He walked off defeatedly, and you cocked an eyebrow at your trainer.

"So, mat training tonight?" You questioned. Garrick swallowed thickly, nodding in response.

"Yep. I suppose so."

✧･ﾟ: *

You grew increasingly frustrated as Garrick forced you to repeat the same move again -- and again, you did it wrong. This time, you weren't even trying to mess up, but you just couldn't quite seem to figure it out anyway. All night, you'd been teasing the male without so much as a flinch from him -- the excessive stretching, the skimpy garments, and bedroom eyes -- nothing worked, and it was pissing you off.

You groaned in frustration, moving to reset your position once again.

"Garrick, I don't even understand why you're making me do this," you griped, bending your knees and taking a fighting atance again. "You said tonight we'd do mat training -- what does any of this have to do with-"

The wind was knocked from your lungs as the male lunged at you, his arms wrapping tightly around your waist. You shouted as you were flung backward, landing straight on your ass. You gasped for air, vision blurring as Garrick released you at once.

"Because," he said, his tone curt. "Someone will take advantage of your ill-preparation, and knock you on your ass as I've just done."

You frowned, but he kept talking.

"Sparring begins with a good stance -- now, get back up, let's try again."

You huffed, accepting his outstretched palm as he tugged you back onto your feet. About 15 attempts later, he finally dealt you some praise.

"Very good! Now -- for hand-to-hand. Show me what you've got."

You stared blankly at him.

"You mean... fight you?"

He chuckled, readying himself before you. "Sure! Let's see what you've got, then I'll know where to start with you."

✧･ﾟ: *

You couldn't exactly be angry over how many times Garrick had you pinned to the mat -- he was a third-year, however, and you weren't complaining about him landing on top of you.

It was another hour before you began to push back, dealing him new blows and dodging the way he'd instructed you.

"Well done, Y/N!" He congradulated. It was short-lived, as the next round, you were on your ass again. This time, your back laid flat on the ground, and Garrick's nose hovered a few inches above yours.

"You've got fire," he said gently, his eyes searching yours. "But, I think I've figrued out what fuels you."

He had not the slightest idea.

"Back up -- this time, try and fight me with a little bit of that attitude from earlier."

You gasped, your hands curling into fists.

"Excuse me?"

He shrugged. "You heard me -- where'd that bratty sense of entitlement go, hm? Was it the first time I put you on your back, or the fifteenth-"

You lunged for him, growling as you took one of his legs out from beneath him. He gasped as he fell back, not expecting the move. You pinned him to the mat with your hips, your hands dodging his as he went to grab you. Once you had his pinned above his head, you finally found the courage to smirk down at him.

"This attitude, you mean?" You chuckled. His arms slid from your grip, grabbing at your exposed waist and flipping you over. Now, his hips pinned you -- his lips so close to yours, they could touch.

He smiled, soft as he looked down into your eyes.

"Exacly, that attitude."

This was the moment -- it had to be. Heat flared between your thighs as his hips pressed firmly against you, his bulge twitching and hardening beneath his sweats. Your spandex shorts did nothing to restrict the feeling, and a small wave of victory crossed your mind. You'd got him.

Slowly, you craned your neck, lifting your head from the mat as your mouth moved closer to his. His eyes fell closed, and you tilted your chin, almost there, almost-

"Am I interrupting something?"

Garrick's eyes flew open, his head turning toward the entry doors. You looked too, though you already knew who that annoying voice belonged to.

Imogen.

"N-no," Garrick stuttered, immediately releasing you and scrambling to his feet. He dusted himself off, not offerring you a hand this time. You stood reluctantly, watching as Imogen infultrated the room, dropping her bag without a care in the world.

"It was nothing, Gen. We were just training," he assured her. Her eyes dragged up and down your body, assessing, judging. You wrapped your arms around your bare torso, suddenly feeling exposed. The cropped tank and spandex shorts were meant to lure in Garrick -- not be used against you, making you feel so small.

"Right," she said, disbelievingly. She shrugged, working to wrap her knuckles with tape. "Well, Violet will be here any minute, so."

Garrick nodded, giving you a small glance before gathering his things. You sighed, reaching for your bag as well.

"I'll... see you tomorrow, Y/N. Be ready for the challenges."

It was all he said before racing through the doors, faster than a bat straight out of Hell. You frowned, standing from the floor and preparing to follow him out. That was, until Imogen's taped hand caught your shoulder to stop you.

"What?" You hissed, narrowing your eyes. She leveled you with an accusatory stare.

"I know what you're doing, second-year; and it's not gonna work."

You laughed humorlessly.

"I don't know what you're talking about," you stated, trying to wrench your shoulder free of her grasp. She held tight, leaning in to speak lowly to you.

"You don't think it's obvious? The stares, the lessons, the... whatever the Hell it is you're wearing," she said wit disgust. Your cheeks reddened, but she kept talking. "I've been friends with Garrick for a very long time -- whatever you're doing is not gonna work."

You shook your head slowly, swallowing.

"Right. And I'm sure whatever you're doing, is?" You bit back. She dropped her hand, glowering at you. "Or, maybe not -- last I checked, he's not your boyfriend either."

She stared silently at you, her anger visible on her face. You shrugged, shifting your bag higher onto your shoulder. The door opened and Violet walked in, and you took that as your cue to leave.

"Good luck tomorrow, by the way," Imogen grit out. "I heard the challenges this week were going to be much harder than before."

✧･ﾟ: *

You were all but stewing as you watched the match happening before you. A girl from first wing was paired with another female from yours - Rhiannon, you think. She was doing your wing justice, absolutely handing the ither girl's ass to her. Violet flanked your side, not talking much as she watched beside you.

"You can't give me the silent treatment forever," she said, and you cuold practically feel her stare at the side of your head. Sure, the past week had not been fun -- you'd barely uttered two word to your roomate since finding out her new training arrangements. Thus, you figured she'd suffered enough -- and so had you.

"I just don't see why you'd go to Imogen for training," you answered, a long sigh escaping as you spoke. Violet turned fully to you.

"I didn't -- she offered to train me. She said she knew about the challenges this week, and who I'd be fighting, and said I could probably use a few pointers so I wouldn't end up on my ass again," she explained. Your brows narrowed as you registered what she said.

"Wait -- you're telling me Imogen knows who's paired up today?"

Violet nodded solemnly.

"Yeah. She said a bunch of the second years would be matched with thirds this week."

That. Fucking. Bitch.

You turned slowly, your eyes narrowing.

"And, you didn't think to tell me this?"

Violet shrugged.

"Figured Garrick would, honestly. Imogen said he probably did tell you."

Your blood simmered beneath your skin. That ignorant, pink-haired, selfish-

"Next on the mat! Y/N Y/L/N, and Imogen Cardulo."

Emmetario's voice was white noise as all color leached from your face. Was he serious? If you were paired with Imogen, and she'd known all week...

You turned, searching for Garrick in the crowd. Your gaze found his, the top of his head visible over the heads of the other cadets. His brows furrowed in concern as he stared back at you, his line of sight faltering as a certain third year stepped onto the mat.

You glared as you stomped onto the mat as well, walking straight up to her.

"You knew all week?" You growled, and Imogen only answered you with a look of amusement. "You knew. You knew all fucking week we'd be challenging one another, and you told my best friend, but not me?"

She huffed a laugh.

"Please -- I only found out this morning we were paired up. But yeah, I knew I'd be challenging a second year no doubt." She would the tape tighter around her knuckles. Looking down, you realized you weren't wearing any. Imogen laughed cruelly, not even looking at you as she spoke.

"What, did your new boyfriend not bring you to the ring well-prepared?" Your gaze hardened, especially as she glanced up at you. "Oh wait -- he isn't, your boyfriend."

You took a deep breath, the rush of air doing nothing to cool your temper. You heard your name from behind you, and you turned just in time to see Garrick approaching the edge of the mat. He held out wrapping tape, and you eagerly made your way toward him.

He said nothing as he made quick work of the material, winding it tight around your palms.

"Remember what I taught you," he said softly. "I believe in you, Y/N. I trust that you'll apply your training here, today."

You waited as he finished securing the tape around your second hand, then you glanced up at him angrily.

"Yeah, like how I should've trusted that you'd tell me I'd be fighting Imogen today?" Your gut twisted, the words you'd accepted as truth spilling out. "No wonder you didn't, honestly; I already know you have a thing for her."

Garrick's eyes widened, and he gripped both of your shoulders as he looked into your eyes.

"No, Y/N you don't understand-"

"BEGIN!"

You yanked free of Garrick's grasp, leveling him with a glare before turning to face Imogen again. She inspected her nails as you strode toward her, not even taking a fighting stance as you drew closer.

Silly girl, you thought. The first punch you threw hit her in the gut, and she reared back a step before aligning her defenses. She coughed as she took her fighting pose, fists raised and eyes narrowed.

The next hit wasn't so lucky -- you threw a punchand missed, which gave the third year the opportunity to knee you in the ribs. You staggered froward, working to regain your balance as you wheezed, turning to face her ignorant, smiling face.

"You got one good hit on me, I'll give you that." She lunged, both arms wrapping your waist and sending you careening to the floor. The wind rushed from your lungs as she pinned you, her sneer mere inches from your face.

"You forget, second year, he trained me too."

This had you seeing red.

You jerked your hips, tossing her off of you as you went completely feral. Every move, every thrown punch, every swing -- it was all Garrick. She dodged a few of them, of course; but by the fourth or fifth attempt, your knuckles were connecting with her jaw and your foot was shoving against the backs of her knees. You'd wrestled her to the floor, yanking her hands behind her back. You bared your teeth as you tried twisting them, but the callous female only laughed.

"You really think this is going to make him want you?" She taunted, blood dripping from the inside of her mouth. "You really think he'll be impressed? I can assure you he'll never-"

You huffed a growl, driving your elbow between her shoulderblades. She cried out in pain, her words completely cut off.

"He's mine," you growled into her ear. "Haven't you gotten that by now?"

Imogen grunted, thrusting you off of her back and sending you to the floor. You scrambled, trying to regain your footing -- failing, as her boot connected with your ribs.

"Miss possessive -- I'm sure he'll love that," she sneered. Her foot kicked you again, and again, and soon enough she was atop you. Her fists flew at you, every breath escaping as you panted and gasped for air. Shouts sounded from behind you, and in the moment you did the only thing you could think of. Reaching up, you clasped both hands around her neck, squeezing hard. Her eyes widened as her face grew redder, her air supply cut off. Black spots clouded your vision as she continued her assault -- the last image you saw was your tatered, bloody bandages before your vision winked out.

✧･ﾟ: *

When you woke up, night had fallen. The first thing you saw was the crackling hearth across the room, moonlight streaming in from the window above. You swallowed, your throat so dry it fels as thouh it had been coated in a layer of sand -- and that's when you began to realize where you were.

Your hands lie atop black, cotton sheets -- the room was cold, save for the burning fire beyond. Shivering, you drew the blankets from you; on top, you wore a large shirt you'd never seen before, and on bottom... well...

Instantly your eyes widened. The single bed, the upscale dorm, the shirt -- you weren't in your dorm. You weren't even in your own clothes, for that matter. Glancing down at your hands, you spotted fresh bandage wraps; gone was the blood and gore from earlier. You glanced around frantically, pausing as the adjacent bathroom door opened.

"I changed the bandages while you were out," Garrick said, crossing through the doorway. The stream of light followed him out as he crossed the room, nearing your bedside. "How are you-"

Your clenched fist drew out from under the blankets, aiming right for his nose. He caught it in an open hand, his grip reawakening the pain in your knuckles. His brow furrowed as he tsked at you.

"Ah ah ah -- you don't want to do that," he reasoned, gently placing your hand atop the covers once more. You narrowed your eyes at him, but he only met you with a grin. "Besides, your hands are just beginning to heal."

"I don't want to be here right now." You said suddenly. Garrick sighed, running a hand through his hair. You hated the way your eyes followed the movement of his long digits.

"Y/N please, just let me explain-"

"Explain what?!" You said incredulously. "Explain how you knew I'd be fighting Imogen today? Explain how, you kept it from me because you have some sort of, I don't know... thing with her?"

Garrick chuckled shaking his head.

"That's not it at all, Y/N. I didn't know the two of you would be paired up, for starters. Even if I did, I would have kept it to myself to keep the fight fair," he reasoned. You scowled.

"No, you would've kept it to yourself so she'd have the upper hand." Rolling your eyes, you continued on. "Because you're in love with her or something-"

It all happened so fast, his hand gripping your throat, your head swilveling to face him. His lips crashed onto yours, demanding and punishing in the most delicious of ways. Your eyes widened as his mouth moved against yours, not quite believing what happened. A soft groan escaped as his fingers squeezed lightly around your throat, and at that he pulled back slowly. His eyes opened slowly, focusing on your face.

"I don't," he assured, his quiet voice loud in the otherwise silent room. "I don't love Imogen -- not like that."

You stared at him in shock, all 1000 emotions warring with one another inside of you. He gazed back, his gaze flickering between your eyes and your lips.

"I do however, have a thing, for you."

Your face flushed at his words as your breath abandoned you. He chuckled, leaning in to kiss you again. You melted into him this time, listening as he mumbled softly against your mouth.

"Sorry -- this felt like the only thing I could do to get you to shut up for one second so I could explain myself." You giggled at that, arching your aching back as his hands slid around your waist and hugged you closer to him. You stayed silent as your head rested against his chest, his body repositioned to lay half on the bed with you. He sighed, his other hand stroking through your hair.

"How long have you known?" You asked. He knew what you meant, his chest rumbling as he laughed.

"Hmm.. maybe, a year ago?" You could hear the smirk in his tone. "You made it pretty obvious, Y/N."

You drew your head back, looking up at him in disbelief.

"You knew all this time that I liked you? And didn't do a damned thing about it?"

He shushed you, his fingers guiding your head to rest against his chest once again.

"Shhh, shh -- I'm doing something now, aren't I?"

You rolled your eyes, snuggling deeper into his chest. "Guess so."

After a few long minutes of silence, he spoke again.

"If we're going to make this work -- you're going to have to get over Imogen," he reasoned. "She's been my friend for a very long time, there's no getting rid of her." You huffed, closing your eyes.

"She likes you, Garrick." You complained, and he tilted your chin to look up at him again.

"And I, like you," he stated plainly. His lips kissed yours softly as he laid you back down.

You grumbled. "Just don't let your friend beat the shit out of me again."

He cackled at this.

"From what I hear, you did a number on her too."

Your focus faded in and out, sleep soon consuming you as the night stretched on. Garrick could have all the friends he wanted, you supposed -- as long as they kept their hands, off your man.

✧･ﾟ: *

[xo100]

Baking cookies pt. 3- LN4

*:･ﾟ Summary: Lando and Y/N confess their feelings, agreeing to take things slow, while Nina continues to brighten their lives.

*:･ﾟ Word count: 1237

masterlist / community / request / previous ౨ৎ next

౨ৎ

The next morning felt different. Not in a drastic, world-shifting way, but in the small, quiet way things change when you finally admit how you feel about someone who’s been in your life for so long. The sun filtered through the curtains in Lando’s living room, casting soft shadows on the walls, and Y/N sat at the kitchen table, absentmindedly scrolling through her phone. She wasn’t thinking about the articles in front of her, though. Her mind was on Lando—and the kiss they shared the night before.

She could still feel the warmth of his lips, the gentle way his hand had cradled hers. The memory made her heart skip a beat, and she couldn’t help but smile.

“Morning, sleepyhead.”

Y/N’s head snapped up at the sound of Lando’s voice. He was standing in the doorway, leaning casually against the frame, his hair still messy from sleep. He looked comfortable in a worn T-shirt and sweats, a soft grin tugging at the corners of his lips.

“Morning,” she replied, her cheeks flushing slightly at the memory of last night.

Lando pushed himself off the doorframe and walked over to her, dropping into the chair across the table. He rested his elbows on the table, leaning forward with that same playful glint in his eyes that Y/N had seen countless times—but now, it felt different. There was something deeper behind it.

“How’d you sleep?” he asked, his voice soft.

“Good,” Y/N answered, smiling. “You?”

“Best I’ve slept in a while,” Lando replied, his gaze locked on hers.

For a moment, they just stared at each other, the weight of their newfound connection hanging in the air. It was comfortable, but there was a spark between them, something quietly electric that hadn’t been there before.

But before they could say anything more, the familiar sound of little feet running down the stairs interrupted them.

“Daddy! Auntie Y/N!” Nina’s voice called out as she bounced into the kitchen, her curly hair wild and her face full of excitement. “I’m hungry!”

Y/N and Lando exchanged a quick glance before they both burst into laughter. The moment was broken, but in the best way—Nina always had that effect.

“What’s on the menu today, munchkin?” Lando asked, ruffling Nina’s hair as she climbed onto Y/N’s lap.

“Pancakes!” Nina declared with a big grin.

Y/N smiled, hugging Nina tightly. “Pancakes, huh? I think we can make that happen.”

“Yay!” Nina clapped her hands excitedly, bouncing on Y/N’s lap.

Lando got up from his chair, heading toward the fridge. “Alright, team pancake, let’s get to work.”

As Lando started gathering ingredients, Y/N helped Nina down from her lap, and together, they got to work in the kitchen. It was something they had done countless times before, but this time felt different. Everything did.

The three of them moved around the kitchen with ease, like a well-practiced routine. Nina poured the flour, Y/N mixed the batter, and Lando flipped the pancakes, tossing in an extra bit of flair for Nina, who giggled with every flip.

At one point, Lando leaned over to Y/N, his voice low and teasing. “You know, I think you’re rubbing off on me.”

Y/N raised an eyebrow, laughing softly. “Oh yeah? How so?”

“Well,” Lando said, holding up a pancake with a lopsided heart shape in the middle, “I’m starting to get pretty good at these.”

Y/N shook her head with a smile, nudging him playfully. “Sure you are.”

They shared another quiet moment of laughter, but this time, there was an undeniable tenderness in it. Lando’s hand brushed against Y/N’s as he passed her a plate, and she felt that same warmth flood her chest. The feeling that this was right, that they were right.

-

Once breakfast was done, the three of them sat at the table together, with Nina happily munching on her pancakes while talking animatedly about her day ahead. Lando and Y/N exchanged glances across the table, both of them silently reveling in the ease of this moment. It was just the three of them, but it felt like more.

After breakfast, Lando cleared the table while Y/N helped Nina get ready for the day. As they moved through their morning routine, the unspoken understanding between Lando and Y/N grew. They didn’t need to say anything just yet—there was comfort in the way they worked together, the natural way they fit into each other’s lives.

Once Nina was dressed and ready to play in the garden, Y/N found herself back in the living room, straightening up a few toys Nina had left scattered around. Lando appeared beside her, leaning against the couch as he watched her for a moment, his expression thoughtful.

“Y/N…” His voice was softer now, more serious.

She turned to face him, her heart beating a little faster. “Yeah?”

Lando stepped closer, his hand reaching out to gently take hers. “I’ve been thinking about us. About what this means.”

Y/N squeezed his hand, her eyes searching his. “Me too.”

“I know we haven’t really talked about it yet, but I want to make sure we’re on the same page,” Lando said, his thumb brushing over her knuckles. “Because this? This feels like more than just a moment.”

Y/N nodded, her heart swelling at his words. “It is more. It’s everything.”

Lando’s smile was soft but filled with so much emotion that it made Y/N’s chest ache. “I don’t want to rush anything, but… I want this. I want us.”

Y/N took a step closer, her free hand reaching up to rest against his chest. “I want that too, Lando. I want us to figure this out together.”

His hand came up to cup her cheek, his eyes searching hers for any sign of doubt. But there wasn’t any. Y/N was sure of this, sure of them.

“You know, Nina adores you,” Lando said quietly, his voice filled with emotion. “She’s always asking when you’ll come over. And seeing the two of you together… It makes me realize how lucky I am.”

Y/N’s heart melted at his words. She had always loved Nina as if she were her own, and hearing Lando say those things only deepened her feelings for him. “I adore her too, Lando. And I… I adore you.”

His eyes softened, and before Y/N could say anything more, Lando leaned in and kissed her. It was soft and sweet, but this time there was more behind it. The promise of something new, something real.

When they finally pulled away, Y/N rested her forehead against his, their breaths mingling in the quiet space between them. “We’ll take it slow,” she whispered. “For Nina. For us.”

Lando nodded, his smile widening. “Yeah, slow sounds perfect.”

Just as they were about to kiss again, a loud crash echoed from the garden, followed by Nina’s triumphant shout. “I did it!”

Y/N and Lando both burst into laughter, stepping apart as they looked out the window to see Nina standing proudly next to a stack of garden toys she had knocked over.

“We’d better go check on our little troublemaker,” Lando said with a grin, taking Y/N’s hand as they headed outside together.

As they walked into the garden, hand in hand, Y/N couldn’t help but feel like this was the start of something beautiful. A new chapter for all three of them.

And it was exactly where she wanted to be.

౨ৎ

*:･ﾟ Notes; thank you for reading, love’s! Hope you all enjoyed it! If there is something wrong or need to be edited, let me know! Also I’ve started a community feel free to join! Currently working on part 4! If you want to be tagged leave it in the comments!

Also currently heartbroken by Daniel leaving f1💔

*:･ﾟtags; @barcelonaloverf1life @fanficweasley @obxstiles @missnxthingg @trisharee @myescapefromthislife

[hanfourz]

baby, boo, my sweetie, darling ⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪

summary: what pet names they'd call you!

pairing: ot5 boynextdoor x gn!reader

genre: fluff, established relationship

word count: <100 for each

warnings: none

note: first hc post yay!! prepare for more hcs to come ur way (bc i dont have time to work on anything longer rn - 🪼)

⟡ ݁₊ . sungho : darling, angel

sungho is just so sickeningly sweet, you are his weakness. he treats you with so much love and care so it’s only right for him to use the most loving petnames. you are his everything and more <3

”hey angel, i’m going to the store do you want anything?”

“wow, darling, you are beautiful.”

⟡ ݁₊ . riwoo : sweetie/sweetheart, my love

i think at first he’s a little shy about using terms of endearment around other people. but once he sees how much you like it (bc you get shy every time he does use them) he does it more often. just wants to see you happy forever.

“hi sweetie, i brought you a treat!”

“of course, my love. you don't have to ask to share my food, y’know?”

⟡ ݁₊ . jaehyun : baby/babe, honey, my love

he's overflowing with love all the time and it's only amplified when he's with you. would smother you in affection if he could. he uses almost all of them but he has favorites. truly thinks you're the most beautiful, amazing, wonderful, lovely person to ever walk this planet and needs you to know it.

“babyyyy, i miss you!! can we cuddle, please?”

“hi honey, do you wanna go get food with me? i’ll buy!!”

⟡ ݁₊ . taesan : babe, love

another one who's a little shy about it at first. prefers to love you quietly through his actions rather than his words. but he loves your reactions when he calls you something sweet. and you use them with him all the time (it nevers fails to make him blush) so of course he starts to reciprocate.

“hey love, can you pass me that? i wanna show you something i’m working on.”

“babe, did you listen to the song i sent you yet? i think you’ll like it.”

⟡ ݁₊ . leehan : princess/prince, angel

he loves you but he loves seeing you blush even more. he already looks at you like you hung all the stars in the sky so it's no surprise to anyone that he rarely ever uses your real name anymore. you are his angel and thats final. treats you as such, as well.

“you look stunning, princess/prince, why are you worried?”

“you want a hug? well of course, my angel.”

[absolutebl]

This Week in BL - Too Much, I'm Getting Tipsy on BL

Organized, in each category, with ones I'm enjoying most at the top.

May 2025 Week 4

Ongoing Series - Thai

Knock Out (Fri WeTV ) ep 2 of 12 - It's so much fun! Yay! Sports BL of my heart! FINALLY.

My Stubborn (Sun iQIYI) ep 5 of 10 - Sorn’s characterization = horrified to be in love + horny on the main. Sure thing hon, we happy with that.

Top Form (Thurs WeTV) ep 10 of 11 - Okay yaoi (no expectation of modern BL beats) what's gonna happen next? This 4 act structure? We gonna get a secret ex? Family drama? Where my 合? (OMG I swear I typed that before the phone call!) Ah BL, nothing if not predictable.

Eye Contact (Weds WeTV) ep 2 of 12 - It’s v stupid. Dub-con drunk fling + that many condoms?! That is indeed how he’d walk. Look, here's the thing:

The HS B plot is profoundly silly and unnecessary.

The acting is awful.

It feels like some scenes are too long and others too short.

Then there’s also scenes that are completely missing.

I like it a lot. Which makes me feel stupid. But there it is, just leave me to my sad pathetic little life.

The Next Prince (Sat iQIYI) ep 4 of 14 - Newnu did pretty good on his languages. Cute. SHOES ON BED SHOES ON BED SHOES ON BED. Also true authentic original whipping boy! How exciting to see!

Pit Babe 2 (Fri iQIYI) ep 4 of 13 - AlanJeff made up, thank you BL gods. I like how animal Willy is. Also, it's so nice to see Nut doing the lord's work and kissing boys again. 

My Sweetheart Jom (Fri YT) ep 2 of 12 - I like fierce Saint. I like their chemistry. It's quite enjoyable. Pass me a tiny sandwich to eat with my pinky up because I think this show calls for that for some reason.

Boys in Love (Sun iQIYI ) ep 5 of 12 - Bah, they are stupid cute. I know it's trying to be Lovesick but I get more Make it Right vibes from the characters. This is the parents interfere ep. Also teachers remain current favs. Would like more of them, please?

The BangkokBoy (Sat Gaga) ep 5 of 12 - Stop him from suicide, get his digits, have him help you out with a fist fight saving your sister from human trafficking. As you do. BDE first date, I guess. Honestly, I get where this show is going in the gritty realism department but it's greedy and clumsy in that area and not working great for me so far. However, the tension around that dinner table was aces.

Sweet Tooth Good Dentist (Fri iQIYI) ep 9 of 12 - Omg Jay knew Sant would be a great bf, and he really is. I love how verse these two are.

The Ex-Morning (Thurs YT) ep 1 of 10 - I’m liking it more than I expected to. I actually like a reunion romance, and this is a different setting and an interesting premise. It’s something we’ve not seen at all before in BL. So I’m intrigued. Krist does seem to play exactly the same character in every BL tho.

I Promise I Will Come Back (Mon WeTV) ep 1 of 10 - It's pretty, but a bit slow. The subs are truly terrible. I’m grateful I know enough Thai to understand what is actually being said. But if you don’t, I'm not sure if this one will make sense. It’s one of those classic travel pulps that we get from Thailand, except the acting is above expectations. And the talent pool is different. I don’t know where I’m landing on this one.

Loy Kaew First Love (Fri YT) ep 2 of 6 - Well this certainly is action heavy. A lot of stuff happened. I’m a little confused by all the different characters but OK I guess? 

Ongoing Series - Not Thai

Sweetheart Service (Korea Fri YT) ep 3 of 12 - I unabashedly love this little charmer of a show. Sugar daddy kitty shopping + language negotiation = fantastic.

Fight for You (Taiwan Fri Gaga) ep 10 of 12 - They are separated so at least some movement and action is happening. But also they are both sadsack tiny idiots. BUT they got an incredibly sweet reunion sequence. I have to say, Taiwan is really showing us how to execute chemistry, it is their crown and they wear it beautifully.

On a totally different note, I like that the brothers (cousins?) in this show all do actually look like they could be blood related to each other for a change.

Moon and Dust (China YT) ep 1 of 6 - Yet another instance of can China get away with it? And even if they do, are they gonna end up happily? Probably not. But this is just cheesy enough for me to watch it without getting too involved and therefore I think I’m gonna be OK no matter what happens in the end.

So, premise?

Creepy younger brother obsessed with older (blood related? maybe even that) brother. Baby boy is ALSO fiercely aggressively unhinged and likely a morality chain just waiting to snap. So... lucky me? It's like Tumblr and BL had a baby. Gay dumpser fires all round!

It's airing but......

Sashes and Hearts (Pinoy YT) 13 eps - Philippines is doing Drop Dead Gorgeous only all gay boys queening their asses off. Doesn't interest me, not sure if it's BL. Finished its run, my opinion remains unchanged, thus I will not be watching. DNF.

Season of Love in Shimane AKA Ai no Kisetsu: The Season of Love (Thai) - Sequel to Kiseki Chapter 2 which I intensely disliked. I won't watch this.

Mission to the Moon (YT) 2 of 12 - I can't keep track too short, too many, too YT. I am watching and will report at end.

Next Week Looks Like This:

Coming Next Month

Wait for it...

But seriously, Thailand is airing 15 BLs right now. 15! Can we really handle any more?

2025 Line Up

BL Announced for 2025 - PART 1

BL Announced for 2025 - PART 2

20 BLs Announced for 2025 That I'm Really Excited About

GMMTV 2025 Line Up - My Totally Biased and Wildly Flawed Feels

THIS WEEK’S BEST MOMENT

No time, too much just getting regular shots this week. SO MUCH BL.

(last week)

The tag BLigade: @doorajar @solitaryandwandering @my-rose-tinted-glasses @babymbbatinygirl @babymbbatinygirl @isisanna-blog @mmastertheone @pickletrip @aliceisathome @urikawa-miyuki @tokillamonger @sunflower-positiiivity @rocketturtle4 @blglplus @anythinggoesintheshire @everlightly @renafire @mestizashinrin @bl-bam-beyond @small-dark-and-delicious @saezurumurmurs