#and that’s such a turning point in our relationship | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

hughesmuse86 · 1 day ago

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Hiii honey🩷 I wanna share this edit w you because I cannot stop thinking about Jack with this song… I love the part “like a rottweiler and a kitty cat”😮‍💨 maybe you could get some inspo from this for a little story w our mr rowdy🥝

https://youtu.be/H2ci2ptKFzA?si=hUi1SWUagx_NwIPW

Hmm… saur, I don’t know if I nailed the song, but I tried 😋 nothing but love for you 🥝 nonnie. Thank you for your ask!I hope you're having a great night!!!!! ♥️

+18 -> smut | Jack helps you make your ex jealous

𝓙𝓪𝓬𝓴 𝓗𝓾𝓰𝓱𝓮𝓼 𝔁 𝓡𝓮𝓶𝓹𝓮’𝓼𝓔𝔁𝓖𝓕!𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓭𝓮𝓻

c/w: pet names, swearing, kissing, spanking, oral (male receiving), praise, hair pulling, teasing, unprotected p in v, ownership kink, rough sex, choking, wet and messy, rempe cheats on the reader, making a sex tape, sending pics to rempe

2.7k

The bass bumps in Jack’s chest as he leans into the table, nursing a beer. The victory was still fresh—adrenaline coursing through his veins from the game, shifting from the match to the moment playing out in front of him. He looks across the bar, through the packed house, studying #73, who has his hands all over some girl who was not you.

Jack barely reacts at first, just watching, his jaw tightening slightly. Not because he cared about Matt or your relationship in the slightest; this was actually the best-case scenario for him; he was just curious about what would happen next. And, he was ready.

Matt's tongue slips between the girl's lips; the 6’9” player leaning into it, completely shameless like he has nothing to lose.

But Jack wasn’t the only one who noticed.

You walk by the bar, drink in hand, and the moment your gaze falls on Matt, your face twists. It wasn’t the reaction Jack expected… No tears, no fighting.

You lift your hand, flicking Matt off, catching the eyes of a few of his teammates as you walk toward the door—Matt, still none the wiser. Not yet, at least.

“Gotta go,” Jack mutters as he pushes up from the table.

“Jack–where the fuck are you goin’?” One of the guys calls after him, but he’s not listening.

Luke points lazily over to the bar, gesturing to Matt, already knowing full well what would happen next, muttering to Hischier about sleeping on the pullout bed in his hotel room tonight instead.

Outside, the streetlights cast a soft glow on your face as you furiously type away, walking toward your place.

“Hey–”

“Not in the mood.” You snap—your voice sharp and annoyed as your heels pound against the pavement.

Jack chuckles warmly, lifting his hands in mock surrender. “Hey, I’m on your team—”

Your fingers freeze over the keyboard before you turn, recognizing a familiar voice. Jack smiles as you meet his pretty blue eyes—his hands stuffed in his pockets.

“Hey. You alright?” He asks gently, but you can see in his eyes that he knows the answer.

You let out a dry laugh, shaking your head ‘no,’ wrapping your arms around your waist as you step a little closer. He nods as he looks down at you, his smile widening as you lessen the space between you.

“Guessin’ you already know that?” You hum with a playful tip of your head.

He lets out a short laugh, rubbing his hand over his mouth to snuff out his smile. “You’re makin’ it sound like I’ve been stalking you, pretty.”

“Pretty?” You ask, feeling your cheeks warm up. He bites his lip slightly and smiles. “Haven’t you been—stalking me, that is?”

He shrugs, rocking back on his heels a little as he marinates with that thought for a bit. “I wouldn’t say that… But you are kinda hard to ignore.”

“Is that so?” You ask as you batt your lashes a few times, making him blush.

“I saw you sittin’ on the glass,” Jack admits. “Heard Matt talkin’ in the parking lot after. Figured I’d tell the boys to come here.” His tongue pokes against his cheek as he says the words out loud, making your accusations from before even more laughable. “So, yeah… maybe I am a little bit of a stalker.”

You giggle and shake your head, looking up at him as Jack glances down at your phone.

“So… What are you sayin’ to him?” He asks curiously.

You scoff and sigh, “M’telling him ‘I saw what he did’ and that ‘I’m done’.”

Jack nods as if that was the only logical response. Your eyes flick up from your phone as he does the same, matching your gaze–a flicker of something darker in both your eyes.

“I just wanna make him pay,” you smile. “Show him, I’m not the only one who can do whoever they want.”

Jack’s lips quirk into a smirk, catching the way you said ‘whoever’ instead of ‘whatever.’

“You meant that, huh?” He asks as his smile deepens.

“Yeah,” you answer without hesitation.

“So what, you wanna do me? Is that what we’re getting at here?” He rasps as he battles back a smile.

“I do,” you answer again without a second thought.

“… You don't know me.”

“Good point,” you sigh. “Well, have a great night, Jack—” You turn around but he grabs your arm, whipping you back around.

“Didn’t say it mattered… ‘Cause it doesn't.”

He looks back at you, curious about what you’ll say next; no doubt that you’ll surprise him again.

“One condition,” you smile.

He raises a brow, stepping a little closer. “Oh yeah? N’what’s that, princess?”

You hold his gaze as your lips curl into a wicked smile. “We record it. And send it to him.”

Jack’s mouth parts, his dark lashes fluttering as he replays the words in his head, and for a second, you think he’ll say ‘no’–that maybe you pushed him too far. He steps a little closer, wrapping his arm around your waist, leading you in the opposite direction of where you were headed.

“I have a mirror on my ceiling.”

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

The lights are down low, just enough for Jack to get the perfect shot as he lays down on his big hotel bed, the light of your camera phone glowing as you crawl closer.

“Fuck, you look so good,” he groans as you slink on top, straddling his lap, bearing your weight on your hands, pressed against his firm chest.

Jack’s heart races underneath as he looks up at you in awe, holding your hip in his large hand, tucking his bottom lip between his teeth, following your movements as you grind your wet pussy on his hard dick with his camera pointed right at it.

He lifts the camera to the ceiling, and you look up as well, smiling for Matt to see.

“Fuck, baby,” he mumbles as he smacks your ass. “Don’t worry, Rempe—I’ll take real good care of her,” he huffs, his words fading to a deep moan as you move your hand between your thighs, wrapping your fingers around his thick dick, tilting your body closer.

You breathe against his mouth as you stroke his long length, nice and slow. "You’re gonna take care of me, Jack?" His eyes roll back at your words. A deep, gravelly moan thunders in his throat as you kiss along his jawline.

“Mhmm… I am, princess. I promise,” he sighs.

Jack's head falls back into the pillow, giving you access to his skin, your lips taking purchase of his neck, kissing lower and lower, his muscles tightening under your soft touches.

You tease him with the tip of your tongue, tracing his deep v-line as you work your way between his thighs, finally getting a good look at his rock-hard cock; pussy pulsing, body aching to be stuffed full of him.

You wrap your fingers around his dick, holding him straight, licking along the side of his dick, making him moan needily.

Your tongue travels across his hard skin, exploring every inch, taunting him some more. He grips your hair suddenly, pulling you back, making you gasp, goosebumps fanning across his thighs. You flick your eyes at him, catching his rapid breathing.

"Maybe I should thank him for being a fuckin’ idiot—otherwise, I wouldn’t have you like this, pretty," he taunts, causing a smirk to stretch across your lips.

"It’d be rude if you didn’t," you whisper sweetly before you tap his tip against your tongue.

A little mess of precum rolls down the side of his heavy cock, making your mouth water. You trace the trail of his vein, making him shudder out a breath.

"Mpfhh… Thank you," he moans as he shakes his head and smiles, the man on cloud nine, as you kiss and suck on his head sloppily.

“Polite and hung. How did I get so lucky?” You ask sweetly, rubbing his tip against your pillowy lips, his swollen head sheened with spit.

Jack rests his big hands on the top of your head, scratching his rough fingertips in your hair, causing your eyes to fall shut. You take his cue, wrapping your lips around him, taking him inch by inch. "Yeah, baby. Just like that," he groans.

Jack guides you, stroking his cock with your mouth, pitching his hips, driving his tip to the back of your throat, causing you to gag. You suck in your cheeks, keeping your lips tight around his thick length, feeling a slight ache in your jaw as you bob up and down.

"So fuckin' good at suckin' dick,” he drawls as you add your hand, working him closer and closer to his peak.

Your wrist moves in tandem with your mouth, laboring messily, thoroughly coating his cock with your saliva, slurping and squelching, making his toes curl with each stroke of your fist.

Praise falls from his lips as he mutters incoherently, trying to keep his eyes on yours as the phone trembles slightly in his hand.

Jack's grip on your hair tightens as a husky moan releases from his lips. You take him deep in your throat before sucking back to his tip as he looks back at you, watching as tears roll down your cheeks.

Jack reaches out, brushing them away with his thumb before sucking it clean as you stroke his cock in your hand. "Fuck you look good, princess, Mmm... Gonna cum-"

"Where do you want it," you whisper warmly against his throbbing dick.

"Mouth... Fuck, I wanna cum in that pretty fuckin' mouth," he pleads as your lips circle him again, spit seeping down to his balls. The sensation and pleasure of it all sends him over the edge. Jack's toned hips jolt upwards, thighs trembling and flexing tightly.

"Fuckk, y/n," he moans as his sticky load paints the back of your throat.

His eyes pinch shut, cock throbbing on your tongue as you milk out his last bits of pleasure.

You draw your lips off him slowly, Jack's body melting into the bed. "Co'mere, princess," he whispers drunkenly, sighing as you slink higher, working toward his lips as he sets the phone down on the nightstand. "You're my girl now," he mumbles between kisses. "My fuckin' girl."

"M'Yours, Jack," you whisper, kissing him deeply.

"You gonna let me take care of you, princess?"

You bite your lip and nod as Jack rolls you to your back, staring down at you with lust-filled eyes, the damp fringe of his bangs skimming his forehead.

He leans down for a kiss, claiming your mouth; his tongue works between your lips, reeling slowly.

"Can't believe he treated you so bad. I'm gonna make it up to you. I promise,” he mutters smugly.

"I wanna feel you inside me, Jack."

“Mmm… Condom?”

You giggle as you cup his cheek in your hand, brushing your thumb along his bottom lip. “Whatever you want, baby—”

“What do you think I’m gonna say?” He asks as he crawls to your lips, hard cock dragging against your tummy, smudging precum along your warm skin. Jack lays himself down on top of you, pinning you to the bed. He grabs your cheeks with one hand, kissing your lips roughly.

“I think you’re gonna tell me ‘you wanna cum in my pussy,’ you whisper against his lips as he swirls his fat tip around your drooling hole, pressing in just enough to make your mouth fall in a soft "o," moaning into his mouth at the stretch.

“Smart and soaking fuckin’ wet… How did I get so lucky?”

You bite your lips, holding back a laugh that slips by your lips regardless. “He’s gonna kill you,” you whisper for his ears only.

“Does it look like I give a shit?”

“No,” you shake your head as you roll your hips slightly, teasing him with your wetness.

“Fuck, how could I?” He whispers as he leans down, kissing you tenderly before looking back to the camera. “Bet you wish you were me right now, huh?” He mutters, thrusting into you roughly, giving you all of him, making you scream his name.

“Jack, shit—”

"Fuck, sweetheart. Keep goin’, Yeah? Keep saying my name," he praises as he grips your thighs, slinging them over his big shoulders. Your eyes widen as his large cock stretches you out. Jack presses his full weight into you, making your trembling hands reach for his hips.

"So deep, Jack," you blubber.

"Too much?" You bite your bottom lip, shaking your head, ‘no.’ "So damn tight. Shittt. This fucking pussy, princess." Jack starts to move, rolling and snapping his hips into you at the perfect pace. “Tell me, baby—was he ever this deep?”

Your eyes flutter shut as you toe the line between pleasure and pain; the knot in your belly threatens to break as you shake your head ‘no.’

“Didn’t think so… Look at that. Holy shit," he chuckles raspily. His large hand rests on your lower stomach, the tip of his big cock making a slight bulge in your tummy.

Jack drops your thighs from his shoulders, taking a bruising grip on your hips, fucking into you rough and fast, causing the bed to thump against the wall.

You grab his wrists from your hips, dragging them up your body, curling his hands around your neck, urging him to squeeze. He smiles as he tightens his hold even more, making you choke and sputter—your rapid pulse raps against his palms.

“Tighter," you pant. Jack laughs wickedly, applying further pressure, making your eyes fall closed, breasts bouncing with each thrust. Jack lifts his hand, slapping your cheek just enough to sting.

"Jack... I." You stutter as you feel your pleasure about to burn through you. “I’m gonna—”

"Mmm... Not until I tell you. You understand?"

"Please!" You moan. You can't hold back your bliss even if you tried. Your climax claims your body. "Jack, fuck!" You sob. He continues to rail you, not letting up. You force your eyes open, meeting his stare; Jack quickly hides his smile.

"What the fuck did I say?”

"I'm so-" He cuts you off with his big fingers pushing through your kiss-swollen lips, landing on your tongue.

"Suck." Jack draws his fingers down to your clit, circling them quickly. You feel yourself right back at the edge of ecstasy; your eyes start to fall shut as exhaustion sets in. "Look at me, or I might just stop." He slows his strokes, hands toiling slower as he threatens to cease altogether, smiling at you darkly.

"Don’t stop," you cry as you stare into his lidded eyes.

Jack lowers himself to your lips, his muscular body clapping against yours again and again. "Give it to me, Daddy—” Your voice cuts short as pleasure takes complete control.

You pull him in tighter, hooking your ankles around his trim waist, praising his name as he worships you. "Y/n... Ugh, shit," he groans, hips pumping one last time, filling you full.

He kisses you deeply, breathing heavily with you. “Jesus Christ, Jack,” you giggle breathlessly as your entire body trembles.

He lets out a sleazy laugh, pretty proud of himself for the mess he made of you. “Hear that, Rempe. I win again.”

Jack reaches over, flicks off the camera before shutting it off, passing it to you.

The room is quiet except for the sound of your heavy breathing, your bodies tangled in each other, wrapped in sheets.

Jack looks over at you, his chest rising and falling fast—his hair a mess. You giggle as you match his eyes, your kiss-swollen lips pulling into a blissed-out smile.

“I can’t send it,” you whisper.

Jack covers his face with his hands, running them down as he lets out a sigh of relief. “Thank God,” he breathes as he pulls you in closer. “Was hopin’ you’d say that.”

“Oh, yeah?”

“Yeah, ‘cause if this were just a one-time thing, I’d be pissed.” His tone is playful, but there’s something in his eyes—something real. “I’m already getting a little jealous and possessive over you. He's not seeing that shit again,” he mumbles as he’s eyes shift back to you to gauge your reaction.

“I love that,” you breathe as your tongue pokes between your mile.

“Good,” he smiles as he reaches over, squeezing your ass in his hand, using his hold on your body to pull you in for a kiss.

You reach over and run a hand over his chest, fingers tracing the sweat-glazed skin. “We should send him a picture instead.”

Jack let out a deep chuckle. “That’ll do it… Think he’ll know it’s me?”

“Maybe?”

“Hopefully,” he corrects you as he leans in for another kiss.

You lift your phone, snapping the perfect picture before sending it to Matt. Jack watches curiously as you tap a few buttons on your phone. His brows furrowed as the TV across the room lights up, watching as you screen share the video.

“Oh, you’re something else,” Jack murmurs.

“Someone’s gotta watch it.”

“Round two while we watch it?”

“And I’m something else?” You giggle as you lean in for a kiss, feeling him smile against your lips.

“Mhmm… And now you’re mine.”

𝕸𝖆𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖗𝖑𝖎𝖘𝖙

#asks answered 🧸#jack hughes #jack hughes smut #jack hughes x fem!reader #jack hughes x y/n #jack hughes x reader #hughesmuse86 ₊✩ˎˊ˗#jack hughes x you #jack hughes blurb #jack hughes fic #jack hughes imagine #nhl smut #hockey x reader #hockey smut

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mostlysignssomeportents · 2 days ago

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Business school professors trained an AI to judge workers’ personalities based on their faces

I'm on a 20+ city book tour for my new novel PICKS AND SHOVELS. Catch me TODAY (Feb 17) for an event at KEPLER'S in MENLO PARK with CHARLIE JANE ANDERS and TOMORROW (Feb 18) for an event with WIL WHEATON in LA. More tour dates here.

Theory-free inference is a hell of a drug. For years, Big Data advocates – the larval form of today's AI weirdos – have insisted that if you have enough data, you can infer causal relationships between complex phenomena without ever having to understand how x causes y, and thus, we can slay the dread "correlation is not causation" beast.

This is cousin to Milton Friedman's famous economic catechism:

Truly important and significant hypotheses will be found to have "assumptions" that are wildly inaccurate descriptive representations of reality, and, in general, the more significant the theory, the more unrealistic the assumptions (in this sense)

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Essays_in_Positive_Economics

AI turns out to be a great tool for creating plausible statistical correlates of imaginary phenomena. Remember the guy who claimed to have invented Machine Learning Gaydar by analyzing the faces of gay people and comparing them to straight people? Same dude later claimed to have invented an AI that could guess, from your face, whether you were a Republican or a Democrat:

https://pluralistic.net/2021/01/15/hoover-calling/#phrenology

This is just AI Phrenology, a continuation of the "scientific racism" movement that was invented to provide a justification for colonialism, slavery, genocide and eugenics. It imagines that there are invisible genetic traits that determine things like your ability to be a good boss, or whether you will cheat on your partner, or whether you are destined to be rich. It's a kind of cod-scientific astrology, where you get to declare yourself to have been born with "good blood" that destined you to rule over others.

Amazingly, this "scientific" philosophy has somehow managed to thrive after the rise of computational genomics, the science that analyzes population-scale genetic surveys to identify whether there is any genetic basis for the idea of "races" (and other cherished distinctions of the "human diversity" movement) have been shown to have no discernible basis in, you know, genetics.

As Adam Rutherford – a superb science communication and accomplished computational genomist – writes in his 2020 book How To Argue With a Racist, nearly everyone on Earth is descended from the same tiny group of survivors of a couple of severe genetic bottlenecks, the exception being Africa, where there is far more genetic diversity than in the rest of the world:

https://pluralistic.net/2020/08/16/combat-wheelchairs/#race-realism

A Swede and an Australian Aboriginal person are more closely related than two members of the different groups of San people. If genes were the dispositive factors in human personality and accomplishment, we'd expect to see far more variance in the outcomes of African people than we do between, say, Inuit people and Italians. And yet, somehow people who all live in the same society, facing the same structural challenges of post-colonialism, international looting, and a global IP regime that denies them the ability to manufacture their own medicines and fix their own equipment produces people with remarkably similar outcomes. Meanwhile, it's surprisingly easy to predict the life outcomes of people from very different societies, based on those societies' position in the global hierarchy.

Sure, genetics play a role in shaping our outcomes. We are built out of the interactions between our genome and the physical and social world around us. But all evidence points to the social and physical factors grossly outweighing the genes. Back to astrology: distant celestial objects inarguably interact with us at our births and through our lives. Some infinitesimal tidal stress is exerted upon the Earth by other planets; photons streaming from faraway, long-dead stars shower down upon us. But the gravity exerted by, say, Saturn, on your body as you pass through the birth canal is less than the force exerted by the paper covers the midwife wears over her shoes in the birthing room. Sure, those disposable covers are a lot less massy than Saturn – but they're far closer, which matters when you're talking about forces that attenuate at the square of distance.

Genes play an important role in the development of your brain and the systems that regulate it, like hormones and nerve signals. But that role is clearly swamped by the role that the physical and social environment play as you grow up. You don't have "good blood" or "bad blood."

But people who believe in – and benefit from – social hierarchy have always yearned for a freestanding, objective basis for the fact that they have more and everyone else has less. That's the origin of "efficient markets hypothesis" (I'm rich because the market thinks I'm a good "capital allocater"), of "meritocracy" (if I'm rich, I must have merit), and "evolutionary psychology" ("Honey, it's not my fault I fucked my grad students – blame the bonobos!"):

https://pluralistic.net/2020/08/30/arabian-babblers/#evopsych

Which brings me to this week's caliper-wielding AI: the "Photo Big 5" AI that can look at your face and predict whether you're going to be good at having an MBA:

https://papers.ssrn.com/sol3/papers.cfm?abstract_id=5089827

This is the creation of four academics at elite institutions – however, their discipline isn't genetics. They're business school professors. They got a bunch of MBAs' self-assessed results on surveys of "Big 5 personality types" – itself a kind of astrological exercise with barely more rigor than, say, Meyers-Briggs – and then fed these results, along with the subjects' Linkedin profile photos and self-reported salaries and titles to an ML and produced – voila! – a machine that tells you whether you'll be a good manager based on your face!

This is an objectively very funny exercise, like AI Gaydar for middle-managers. They resort to some hilarious obfuscation:

Photo Big 5 exhibits only modest correlations with cognitive measures like GPA and standardized test scores, yet offers comparable incremental predictive power for labor outcomes.

In other words, we created a new random-number generator that is as bad at predicting your life-chances as the SATs or your GPA, two extremely bad ways of predicting your life chances – except to the extent that both numbers can be inflated if you start with a bunch of money and hire elite test-prep consultants. Good thing personal appearance has no correlates with wealth and there's no way to spend money to look more like a member of the elite? Naw, it must be the genetics underpinning the relationships between your "craniofacial features and behavior."

It's easy to see why AI is so tempting to people who want to incinerate any qualitative factors in a complex societal problem, transforming them into dubious quantitative residue that an algorithm can do math on:

https://locusmag.com/2021/05/cory-doctorow-qualia/

It's junk science at scale, with a business model. The purpose of this automated eugenics is the same as every "rational" account of hierarchy in human history: to retroactively justify winners, and to condemn losers before the game even starts.

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2025/02/17/caliper-ai/#racism-machine

Image: Cryteria (modified) https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:HAL9000.svg

CC BY 3.0 https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/3.0/deed.en

#pluralistic #racism machines #big 5 personality types #business schools #wharton #calipers #phrenology #digital phrenology #ai #disciplinary technology #accountability sinks #algorithmic facewash #race science #labor #guillotine watch #bossware

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soyales · 8 hours ago

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i have no defence for this, my opinions came rushing out, please ignore thanks byeee

ok so i get that madoka magica is like peak anime, an eternal work of art and trancendent divine tragic yuri, but like i wanna yap about the amazingness of orpheus and eurydice’s tragedy.

so orpheus and eurydice’s story comes from thousands of years of cobbled together bits and pieces from oral tradition right? its not really a medium that lends itself to continuity and meaningful foreshadowing, symbolism and the like. its honestly probably that ancient poets just thought, “i think this is how it went? whatever story some old guy told me twenty years ago probably did this right?” and just went full send on whatever the hell they felt like talking about, superimposing their own interpretations and perspectives onto this fable. ALSO THE GREEK MYTH HAS ITS OLDEST SOURCE FROM ANCIENT ROME, THATS *CENTURIES* AFTER ITS SETTING. theres no way any modern depiction in any way can stay “accurate” or “faithful” to its original form, our “original” is already a re-telling thats basically fanfic at that point. it has three (3) total story beats, eurydice dies, orpheus goes to the underworld, orpheus fails. its not so much about the story, i think, more of the message it sends about the finality of death and futility of humanity in the face of death, which I would argue is like the crux of most tragedies. it always ends in death, and the tragedy of their love centres around death, and their inability to escape it. i think it is more of a relatable tragedy to us non-magical girls turned immortal divinity, even though absolutely none of this shit is literally realistic to anyone outside a fictional world, its an analogy, of the suffering caused from the death/abandonment of loved ones. they don’t really need further depth into their characters nor relationship, i think it exists nicely as an ideal or concept, to be doven into by anyone.

i can’t say much about madohomu because its been a while since i had last seen it, but from what i remember it gets kinda insane with the lore and yeah i remember it being an amazing experience with brilliant writing, but i don’t want to say definitively that its a better story. it is, but like i dont want to admit it ok?? its a single story of a single writer’s mind, while my classical greek otp is a mishmash of thousands of years of artists of all kinds.

even with the messiness of mythos and the simplicity at its core, orpheus and eurydice have many different versions of their tale over time, a real life history that madohomu just dont have, and i think it sort of makes up for the less stable premise. it has just a richer history that i think is really interesting, weaving in the history of each storyteller in each rendition.

take hadestown the featured pic, it plays real fast and loose with the commonly accepted lore of the myth — the song he sings is different, the setting changes from the golden age of heroes in the hellenistic area to some sort of western railroad wild west-ish place, eurydice isnt a nymph, the satyrs arn’t there, etc. — but it still runs through the same simple story beats. it is different to ovid’s metamorphoses’ depiction of them, where they seem to focus more on the “no matter what you can’t escape death”, whereas hadestown seems to say more that “no matter what you can’t escape capitalism” (i know im grossly generalising it, shush.) all this to say its a different take, made by different people, and my own take in my mind is also different to all of yours as much as yours are different to all others, even if it is only in the most minute way. theres no right answer with these old ass myths, while there can be a slight directive with something more modern and crafted as pmmm.

theres just something super tragic about the fact that no matter how many renditions and versions orpheus and eurydice’s story goes through, all of them end up with the two being separated. their most remembered story beat is that orpheus fails her, and they don’t manage to live happily ever after, which is a special sort of tragic at least to me. also im defending orpheus now. i swear he’s not an absolute loser failure ok??? hes somewhat functional, but less so without eurydice. he’s literally walking out of the underworld, escaping death. at his point in time, NO ONE HAS DONE THAT BEFORE (no one still has, but i digress). the sheer stress of that compounded with the fact that he’s dealing with gods — who in ancient greece are famously known to not want to benefit mortals like he — would make anyone in his position weak. its a little mistake, that unfortunately has grave consequences attached. how easy is it to hear a sound behind you and instinctively look and check? with the knowledge that your love of your life may or may not be behind you no less. he was just about leaving the underworld, the sight of the sky ahead of him, what if he thought they had already succeeded? a small misconception, a tiny movement of the head, just a small turn of his eyes and everything crumbles before him? its his fault, and he knows it best. but also i can’t judge him for that, he does way better than i think most people would do in that situation. most people wouldn’t have even stepped foot beyond the acheron and he went fully in and out without killing himself (entirely).

alright thanks if you read all of that, i can’t even read that and its only been 5 seconds since I typed the last sentence. 14 seconds now <333

anyways madohomu supremacy lets goooo tragic yuri wins <33333

Tragic Ships Tournament: FINAL ROUND

Propaganda under the cut!

Orphydice:

"y'all probably know the story of orpheus and eurydice. but they are SO tragedy. they are TEXTBOOK tragedy. they redefined the genre. on their literal wedding day as she's walking down the aisle eurydice gets bit by a snake and dies. orpheus loves her so much he goes down to the underworld to try and save her. hades allows him to take her back to the land of the living, as long as she walks behind him, and he cannot look back, otherwise her soul will be taken. he's mostly fine , but begins to doubt and at the very end of the tunnel, he looks back. they lock eyes for a moment before she disappears back into hell. orpheus is then so distraught that he wanders the earth singing mournful melodies and gets stoned to death by some nymphs who think his sad songs are bumming them out. DUUUUDE their story consumed my every waking thought as a child."

Madohomu:

"madoka magica aired 12 episodes in 2011, with a sequel movie titled “rebellion” released in 2014. it’s been over 10 years since then, and these two have become the face of yuri. if someone makes a meme about loving yuri and makes a collage of example ships, madohomu are 100% gonna be present. video essays, fanart, fics, music videos and all kinds of fan projects featuring them are still wildly popular on all social media platforms.

but let’s talk about them (without going into too many spoilers, so this will be about the thematics in their relationship). they are light and darkness. the ying and the yang. forever intertwined. one would not exist without the other, yet they cannot exist together. for madoka has too much love for every living thing and too little for herself. and homura has too much love for madoka it blinds her to everything and everyone else, and she struggles with deep self-hatred. madoka has forsaken her own existence for the world, and homura has forsaken the world she created for her. the show has a lot of religious imagery, and madoka is akin to a god; there’s a shot of homura, who grew up catholic, kneeling at the feet of a gigantic statue of madoka, praying, but her hands stain her clothes. because if madoka is god, then homura is lucifer - specifically, iblis, the muslim version of lucifer, who loved god so much he betrayed him, for he’d rather defy him than bow to his creation, humans. and homura would rather defy the sanctity of madoka’s wish, rather than obey its laws, for she will take madoka’s happiness in her hands, if she refuses to. in the movie, dolls representing homura’s inner machinations yell, “gott ist tot”, for homura’s god, madoka, dies in the movie, when homura remembers that madoka was human first, and godhood was something she reached to save everyone, against her best interest and happiness. their relationship is one of love, kindness, obsession, devotion, hope, faith, worship - they are the thesis and the antithesis, the beginning and the end, the alpha and omega, an unstoppable force and an immovable object. forever locked in a struggle, never fully embracing, for madoka will always sacrifice herself for the world, and homura will always doom the world and herself for madoka."

#tragic ships tournament #hadestown #orpheus #eurydice #i wont tag madohomu because this will not benefit the madohomu fans #it literally only benefits my friends’ ears because they dont have to listen to this #so yeah im a pretentious art bitch #what are you going to do about it huh??#sorry if this makes no sense #yapping

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cxosmicxo · 11 hours ago

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valentines !!

♡ : i. midoriya, k. bakugo, s. todoroki, e. kirishima, d. kaminari, h. sero

☆ : gn!reader, slight fem!reader mention in one of denki's, established relationship, one mention of vomit, very small vocabulary omg, not edited so if you see a typo ignore it

✄ : sorry this is so late!! i hate being busy and i’ve been really busy recently💔 but there will be a new smau coming out later this week also😜😜

- in which the mha boys ask you to be their valentine !

i. midoriya

asks you like the first week of january😭

very responsible!

but hes actually so nervous to ask you even tho you guys are dating ??

almost vomits bc he’s so nervous

was gonna do it in front of your friends but he was too nervous so he did it in private

it was after school and the sun is starting to set so it’s that mix of pink and orange

he texts you telling you to meet him at the pond you guys hangout at

you’re sitting there for maybe a minute, waiting for him

and he comes up behind you with a little “boo!” bc he’s silly😝

you turn around and he’s holding flowers and there’s a little bit of snow on the petals

when he opens his mouth to talk he gets nervous and shuts up and his face is turning bright red

LMAO he turns around, takes a deep breath and turns back around with an anxious smile

“i know it’s early but… will you be my valentine?”

he shuts his eyes like he thinks you’re gonna say no loll

his heart is beating out of his chest when you don’t respond but you’re just awing at him bc he’s so cute💔💔💔

i don’t think i used awing right

he opens his eyes and he’s like “please don’t say no bc i already made a reservation”

you giggle at him and then you hug and say yes of courseeeee

and then you live happily ever after and he gives you flowers, chocolate, stuffed animal, smth you’ve been wanting for a while, and takes you out to dinner and you spend the rest of the weekend together😜

k. bakugo

wasn’t gonna ask you bc he assumed obviously you’re his valentine you’re dating🙄

until he heard your friends talking abt how their boyfriends asked

now he has to one up all of them

does it in private bc “they don’t need to be in our business” but it’s bc no one else needs to see him showing emotion besides you

actually really nervous like izuku it’s giving him a headache

begrudgingly asks his mom what to get you and how to ask you

he just shows up to your dorm and when you open the door he just barges in, shutting the door

you just stare at him confused and he huffs and rolls his eyes

“be my valentine… or whatever”

he’s basically whispering it

but if you ask him to repeat it he’ll walk away😭

you ask him where your flowers/presents are and he’s like “you gotta wait for that, greedy”

but he takes you out to dinner bc he’s had that booked since december/january but you’ll never know that🤫

he gets you flowers and candy and all that cheesy shit but he gets you smth sentimental like omg you loser😩😩😩

very sentimental and probably gave you pictures from when you first met, first started dating, and now

so cute i love him

s. todoroki

also wasn’t gonna ask you but natsuo said he HAS TO

and mina was borderline harassing him abt it lmao

honestly pretty lost and scrolls on tiktok for hourssss looking for gift ideas

he asks you around the first week of february

nothing dramatic he just asked you on a study date at your fav cafe and he brings flowers and asks you as soon as he sees you

he feels like he should be nervous but really isn’t

nonchalant dreadhead shoto

pauses before he asks bc he gets a little nervous but he knows you’ll say yes

omg if you say no as a joke he jaw drops slightly it’s so funny

but on valentine’s day he def takes you to this nice ass restaurant and you guys take cute pictures and everyone’s jealous

when you guys get back to the dorms he gives you your gift and i think he made you a boo basket bc he saw so many videos abt it

has like candy and stuff, probably a jellycat, and the essentials idk you get the point

super cuteness and you spend the rest of the night together and probably go out again the next day😜

e. kirishima

very excited he loves valentine’s day

he just loves loving you!!!

just like izuku he asks you like right after christmas

you guys probably started dating bc he asked you to be his valentine and then you lived happily ever after😝

omg yes wait

it’s the day after christmas and you guys are hanging out with your friends in the commons and he perks up randomly saying he forgot to give you a present and sprints to his dorm

most of you guys are looking at him weird but denki, mina, and sero are looking suspicious

he comes back, out of breath, and he places a medium to large sized box on the coffee table and sits back down next to you

you side eye him with suspicious and take the top off of the box

the box unfolds and there’s flowers and chocolate placed in the middle of a poster that says “all i want for christmas is you… will you be my valentine?” in what looks like mina’s handwriting😭

you gasp and pull him in a tight hug, nodding with a little “of course, you loser” and a giggle

his hands shoot up in victory yelling, “SHE SAID YES!!!” as if he just proposed to you LMAO

everyone (except bakugo bc he left when kirishima left bc he knew the present) cheered loudly and it was so silly😜

valentine’s day rolls around and you’re greeted with him holding flowers in front of your door as so as you open it

“for you m’lady, happy valentine’s day”

after school you guys go eat ofc and go to the park, acting like fools but eventually you guys go back to the dorms and he gives you your presents

he also made a boo basket and has cute sentimental stuff like a handwritten note, a photo album of you guys, and other simple basic stuff

you guys had a romcom marathon and spent the rest of the weekend together with your “extended valentine’s day”

d. kaminari

i’m torn between if he’d lwk forget and ask you the day before or if he’s had this prepared since november😭

def asks you in public and does smth extravagant

like outside your dorm with a boombox

okay so it’s february 1st and you’re finishing up getting ready for school and you’re just abt to head down to the commons

you grab your bag and you hear again by fetty wap blasting on a speaker and it’s coming closer to your room LMAO

so, confused ofc, you step out of your room and see denki holding a poster that clearly wasn’t made by him bc it’s legible, sero holding a boombox, and kirshima holding a bouquet of flowers

can you tell i think im the funniest person ever

most of your class is behind him, cheering him on bc power couple ofc

as he approaches your dorm, sero turns down the music and denki holds the poster in one hand and flowers in the other

his dramatic ass gets down on one knee

“good morning, my beautiful goddess, will-“

“did mina make that poster”

“shut up, will you make me the happiest man alive and be my valentine?”

you laugh and say yes ofc and he jumps up, drops the poster and flowers, and picks you up and spins you around while everyone cheers and takes pictures

very dramatic ofc

on valentine’s day he comes to your door in the morning and gives you flowers and chocolate that he makes you carry it around all day so these mfs know you have a valentine

after school he gives you your presents and he also does a basket thing and it’s very similar to kirishimas but def adds some pictures of himself for you to appreciate lmao

even tho he did a dramatic thing asking you out he’s pretty chill on valentine’s day and just wants you to feel your best and feel loved and appreciated

take insta pics of courseeee and everyone’s jealous and he takes your pictures and he highly trained btw

just like kirishima with the “extended valentine’s day” it’s valentine’s day until you go back to school

you’re attacked by the hip all weekend, everything is a two person job

even if you have to go to the bathroom he’ll stand by the sink

if you kick him out he’ll be curled up against the door while he waits and falls when you open the door

very cutesy very sweet makes sure he’s the best and last bf you have😜😜

h. sero

asks you in a timely manner

very responsible

could do smth extravagant and public or personal and private depending on what you want

probably makes mina ask you abt it so she can tell him

bc of that i won’t specifically describe how he asks so use your imagination to how your perfect valentines proposal would be

classic man, probably brings flowers but if you don’t like flowers or are allergic he’ll bring an alternative like stuffed/dried/lego flowers or wtv

if you want smth public and dramatic he’ll probably yell at you from down the school hallway, run up to you with a poster and loudly ask😭

if you want smth more private and personal he’ll probably ask in the same place he asked you out and have a little cute and meaningful speech

he’s pretty good with words if he wants to and makes you tear up a little bit tbh

use your imagination to fulfill the rest of your dreams <33

similar to kirishima mainly

if you prefer a fancy dinner he’ll book one but if you just wanna get food or stay in the dorms it’s wtv makes you happy bc you being happy makes him happy🤩

but on valentine’s day i’m thinking he gives you smth in the morning like a cute matching bracelet and gives you the rest of your gifts after your date

he follows you around all day and has no shame bc why wouldn’t he

like i said earlier it depends what you want like if you go to a restaurant to eat or just grab some food or stay in the dorms

but after you eat you guys watch cheesy romcoms in his dorm and he gives you your presents

also does a basket and gives you the basic things like everyone else but he does hand write a letter makes a cute thing with pictures from when you first started dating to now

he’s very sentimental tell me he’s not🙄

omg yes he gives you a collage board to hang up on your wall and it’s full of pictures of you guys and tons of memories

he does not play abt valentines LMAO

follows you around all weekend also but he does that anyways

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lover-of-mine · 8 hours ago

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Hi, welcome to blue and red and parenting in 911.

Let's start with the easy to track stuff. For me that usually means looking at madney, mostly because we watched every step of the relationship unfold, so a lot of the patterns go back to them or are established with them. But the combo is present when they talk about wanting kids someday in 301, and when they find out they are pregnant in 318 and 806.

But the combo is explicitly established at the beginning of s3. 301 with the madney conversation and the bathena conversation at the hospital about not wanting more kids. 303 with buddie and the "we already have a kid" conversation. And 304 with Henren and the "having more kids will affect our family in more ways we expected"

But as with any color metas I write, every element of the scene matters, so we can go back a little bit more to 218 when Henren decide they want more kids.

The blue and red ends up attached to henren's journey into fostering and eventually getting Mara. For instance, being the color in 311 when they get Nia and 705 when they are trying to get through to Mara.

So, we established this is used with outfits and with other elements of the scene, right? So let's get into the fun stuff.

I was watching 313 yesterday and I was very 👀 about Michael and Bobby and the whole thing with Harry and the trip. Because Michael is in this reddish color and Bobby is in a neutral green. BUT when they are talking in the end about how Michael wants Bobby to be a father to Harry if he ends up unable to, Bobby suddenly has a bunch of blue around him. It's also the moment Michael's shirt looks the most red.

Another key thing with Bobby is during 516. That episode is the episode May says Bobby is her dad too. And she starts the episode in this sweater. Yes, there are other colors in it, but the bag, the belt, all add to May herself being the blue and red. Mostly blue since above we put Bobby as the blue parent.

And May is wearing the blue uniform in that episode and that leads to the scene where she calls Bobby her dad.

Something 911 occasionally does is put the sirens in one color when convenient, this is one of those moments. The sirens in this scene only flash red. So we have both of them in blue uniforms bathed in red light.

Something else that happens in that episode is the way Bobby's suspenders are clearly setup in a way to add red to him.

But Anna how do you know that's on purpose?

Well, everyone else who is wearing the suspenders has the yellow part showing. And we have a lot of people with the suspenders walking around that scene, so Bobby's being mostly red is fully on purpose.

So the combo is present when Bobby promises to do his best to be a father to Harry and when May explicitly acknowledges Bobby as her father.

So now let's talk Buck and Christopher. I made a post about this the other day but let's remake my point.

The tsunami is the event that turns Buck into a father, right? I feel like we can all agree that the thing there is to show Buck that he does in fact love Chris as if Chris is his.

So, they start out with Buck in pink.

Then the tsunami hits effectively making Buck's shirt red.

The tsunami literally turns Buck red. Honestly, this blows my mind every time I think about it. But there's more attached to this arc.

When Buck is searching for Chris, he is white. But he is carrying a piece of Chris that happens to add red to him, in a similar way that the show did with Bobby in 516.

Eddie has been blue the whole time this is happening because of the uniform, so the red ends up being a bit more symbolic, because Buck was killing himself trying to find Chris, and when he finds Eddie he needs to accept the fact that he failed. And he hands the glasses back to Eddie almost in a defeated fashion, because at this point Buck is basically putting them both in the worst scenario a parent can be in. In his mind, he doesn't deserve that piece of Chris.

But that's when Chris shows up. In red.

At this point, Chris himself ends up being that symbol.

Eddie is also holding blue gloves throughout this whole interaction.

And all of this leads us to the introduction of buddie's parenting maroon. This arc has Buck moving in shades of red until the moment Eddie tells him there's nobody else he trusts with Chris more. Clearly in blue and red.

The buddie parenting maroon shows up a few more times, on Eddie at the end of 318 when Chris is going to camp even though he was conflicted.

On Buck during 414 when he steps in to take care of Chris.

On Eddie again in 710 when Chris leaves, again both of them are blue and red here.

So yeah, personally, I think this is a very well established color combo lol.

Also, final addition. Eddie's panic attack about someone assuming Ana is Chris' mother? Same combo. But then the idea is instantly shut down by making it a trigger for Eddie.

Anyway, that's all for today, if you read this I love you 💜

#did i write this because someone said its not that deep? yes #what about it #this is how i predicted maddies pregnancy lol #911 #911 meta #thoughts thoughts thoughts #flashing tw #color theory

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zummmii · 19 hours ago

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Make A Wish

Summary: You stay up late, and Spencer comes to find you.

Pairing: Spencer x Fem!Reader, established relationship (no mention of yn)

Warnings: Sassy Spencer, mention of sleep deprivation, mention of case but not really, not proof read

wc: 960

You had always been invested in space. The thought that you weren’t the only living things out there. The thought that even if there was another living thing out there we’d never know because of light years separating our timelines.

If there was something out there, looking for a similar civilisation, they wouldn’t find people, they wouldn’t find you. They’d find the jurassic period, the ice age, the mosaic period.

And so in the dead of night you find yourself sat on the sofa closest to the window, a book in your hair as you stared up at the sky, clear and dark blue. Little twinkling stars starring back at you.

Your legs tucked under yourself as you sat perched on the couch, one of Spencer’s over sized shirts and panties. Nothing much but it was comfortable.

He was asleep, you didn’t want to wake him up, he’d just got home for a week long case. You missed Spencer, more than you thought you would.

You missed his voice, how soft he talks to you compared to everyone else. The soft brown eyes he gives you every time he looks at you, like you’re the most expensive piece of jewellery in the shop. You missed his gentle touch, the possessive but caring way he holds your waist at any possible chance.

It always worried you, when he left you didn’t know whether he’d come back safely and unharmed, or even come home at all. All these terrible people, horrible, cruel people- murderers, kidnappers, terrorists, he put them away with the BAU team, and as much as you are proud of him, you can’t help but worry.

The cool night time breeze drifted through the small crack in the window, blowing your hair gently out your face with minor hesitation, the little wispy strands that had fallen down from the hair tie dancing quietly. The stars twinkled through the dark blue sky, the moon not even half full glowing brightly in the middle of it.

You had the perfect view from Spencer’s apartment building. His window was right on the corner of the street, pointing exactly diagonally from the building across. There was nothing blocking your view from the endless abyss of space.

The apartment was silent, safe for the whistling wind outside. So quiet you could hear a pin drop from the top floor.

Foot steps, muffled and muted against the floor boards from socks approached from behind you, Spencer. He was supposed to be asleep, the case taking a toll on his sleep schedule. But still, you glance over your shoulder, your gaze landing on the curly hair Dr who was rubbing his eyes and blinding walking over.

His lips brushed against your ear as he moved to kiss the temple of your head. You only shudder, turning to catch his gaze with your own eyes.

Spencer’s brown eyes glistened in the dark light shining down on the two of you as he bends down to be closer, leaning over the sofa. “You’re supposed to be asleep.” He murmurs, his voice reminding you how much you missed him over the past week.

Your lips found his jaw. “I was.” You whisper softly against his skin.

Spencer stood up straight, a quiet groan leaving his lips as he stretched out his back. The sofa dipped beside you as he climbed over the back, claiming half the sofa as his own. “Was.” He repeats, rolling his eyes in feigned disappointment.

A small smile etched its way to your lips, you lean into his side, pulling a blanket up to cover your legs when the breeze got too cold. You don’t look at him, your gaze, again, glued to the dark sky. “Was.” You nod against his chest, repeating the word in the same tone. “Why aren’t you asleep?”

The glow of the moon shown down onto his face, defining his lips and jaw line into intricate beauty. Soft curls coiled messily over his forehead. “I was, but I woke up and couldn’t find you.” His excuse was lame but heart-warmingly sweet.

You lift your head from his chest, your fingers absentmindedly tracing patterns over the patterns of the shirt he wore. Your expression was purely unimpressed as he had given a lame extended version of your reason, just twisted into a different tale. “Was.” You roll your eyes, poking his cheek as a smug lazy grin makes its way to his face.

The sky shone brightly, a flash of light lighting up the room. The line disappeared just as quickly as it came. Spencer’s hand wrapped around your shoulder, moulding into the curve. “What did you wish for?” He asks after a few seconds of silence.

Staying quiet you stare up at the sky, your eyes looking for any other movement. “Can’t tell you that.” You break the silence.

“Well,” Spencer pulled you closer his arm slipping under your knees and the other under your shoulders. “I wished for you to come to bed.” He gave a flat smile standing up with you, your arm snapping out to wrap around his neck.

Spencer gave you a hurt look. “You don’t trust me?” He frowned, his lips curling upside down into a pout.

“You’d probably drop me on purpose.” You roll your eyes, and your point was proved when he jutted in the door way of his bedroom, his grip on you faltering.

But he caught you.

“I hate you.”

Spencer drops you onto his bed rolling over top of you to the other side. “Get off, you big child.” You hit his shoulder and he settles on the other side of the bed.

His arm curled around your hip and pulled you closer. “love you too.”

#spencer reid fluff #spencer reid fanfiction #dr spencer reid #spencer reid #spencer x reader #spencer reid x reader #fem!reader #criminal minds fic #criminal minds #s12 spencer reid #established relationship #fluff #make a wish

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misshoneyimhome · 2 days ago

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What’s up, buttercups! 💕

Alrighty, chapter four is here, and I promise we’re spicing things up very soon! Some of you have even written me, asking when things will happen—soon, my loves, soooon 🙈

So, this chapter is all about setting the tone, laying the groundwork, and adding just the right amount of tension before things really start to heat up 😉🔥

Happy reading, my darlings! 😘💕

Tropes & warnings: inexperienced!reader x Auston Matthews, meet cute, strangers to friends, fake relationship, language

Word count: 6.7k Chapter one ; Chapter two ; Chapter three

➼｡ﾟ

Chapter Four: Game On

“Dearest Toronto readers,

Can it be true? Auston Matthews and his enigmatic Queen, spotted on a walk yesterday that nearly blurred the line between staged and sincere? The city is still buzzing from the sighting. It almost seemed close to romantic—dare we say, genuine?

But tonight brings a new chapter. Will we see her face among the sea of blue and white at the Scotiabank Arena, cheering on her King? Or will she remain hidden, a shadow in this carefully crafted narrative? Tell us, Mr. Matthews, are you embarrassed by your newly caught feelings? Is our Ice King unused to wearing his emotions for the world to see?

For tonight’s game, we hope to see the Leafs at their very best. Nylander will need to flex his skills to keep up with the Captain. Lorentz still has time to make his mark on the scoreboard, and Domi—well, he’s overdue for a standout performance. And what about the crease? Will Joseph Woll hold the net, or will we see Anthony Stolarz step up?

One thing’s for sure—this match against the Blues will have us glued to our screens. And who knows? If the Queen does make an appearance, maybe—just maybe—she’ll be the Leafs’ new lucky charm.

Guess we’ll have to wait and see.

Yours always,

The Benchwarmer”

Thursday -

The faint smell of wine and takeout filled the air, courtesy of your early dinner with Jess, who was perched on the edge of your bed, sipping from a glass of Chardonnay and eyeing your wardrobe with the precision of a general planning an attack.

“Okay, this is a big night,” she announced, setting her glass on your nightstand with a decisive clink. “First impression in Auston Matthews’s world. We need you looking sexy but chill. Confident but not over-the-top. Like… the kind of girl who doesn’t need to try, even though you’re trying.”

You groaned, sprawled out on the bed beside her with your own glass of wine in hand. “Jess, it’s not that serious. It’s just a game.”

She turned to give you a pointed look, arching a brow. “Not that serious? You’re about to be seen at a hockey home game in Toronto with Auston Matthews. The Auston Matthews. You can’t just show up in, like, leggings and a hoodie.”

“Leggings and a hoodie sound amazing, though,” you joked, though your voice lacked conviction. The nerves bubbling beneath the surface were hard to ignore, even with the wine taking some of the edge off.

Jess wasn’t having it. “No way. Tonight, you’re walking into that arena looking like the kind of woman who belongs in the spotlight. Trust me on this.”

You sighed, sitting up and taking a long sip of your wine. You briefly had to remind yourself, Jess didn’t know the truth about your arrangement with Auston—she thought this was just you, her perpetually overthinking best friend, taking a chance on a guy you weren’t entirely sure about. And because of that, she was determined to support you in the best way she knew how: with wine, fashion advice, and an endless stream of hype.

“Alright,” you said reluctantly, setting your glass aside. “What’s the plan?”

Jess’s eyes lit up as she leapt off the bed and flung open your closet doors. “Finally, you’re listening to me. Okay, so…” She rifled through the hangers, pulling out options and tossing them onto the bed with abandon. “Black fitted jeans—because they’re classic and make your legs look amazing. This top—simple but shows just enough skin. And…” She paused dramatically, reaching for the leather jacket she’d brought over herself. “This. You’ll look like a total badass.”

You eyed the pile sceptically. “Isn’t this a little much for a hockey game?”

Jess gave an exaggerated sigh, spinning to face you with her hands on her hips. “Y/N, you’re not just going to a hockey game. You’re going to a hockey game as Auston Matthews’s potential date. Do you understand the difference?”

You rolled your eyes, but a small smile tugged at the corners of your mouth. “Fine. But only because you’re so insistent.”

She grinned triumphantly, shoving the outfit into your hands. “Go put it on. I need to see how it looks.”

As you changed in the bathroom, the reality of the night ahead settled in. You stared at your reflection, smoothing the fabric of the top and adjusting the jacket. Jess’s choices were undeniably flattering—she had a knack for knowing what worked. You looked confident, polished, and maybe even a little sexy. But beneath it all, you couldn’t shake the feeling that this was just another part of the act.

When you stepped back into the room, Jess let out a low whistle. “Damn, girl. You’re gonna knock him dead.”

You rolled your eyes, laughing softly as you smoothed the jacket. “It’s just a game, Jess.”

She stepped closer, her expression softening as she placed her hands on your shoulders. “It’s not just a game. You’re putting yourself out there, and that’s huge. I know you’re nervous but trust me—he’s going to take one look at you and forget how to skate.”

You laughed despite yourself, shaking your head. “You’re ridiculous.”

“And you’re amazing,” Jess countered, grabbing her wine glass and raising it in a toast. “To new beginnings, hot hockey players, and you finally letting yourself have some fun.”

You clinked glasses with her, the warmth of her encouragement easing some of your nerves. As much as you hated lying to her about the truth of your arrangement with Auston, you couldn’t deny that her belief in you made it easier to face the night ahead.

“Thanks, Jess,” you said softly, offering her a small smile.

“Anytime, babe,” she replied, taking a sip of her wine. “Now, go out there and own it.”

You weren’t sure if you believed her, but as you grabbed your bag and headed for the door, you decided to try. After all, you had a role to play—and Jess was making sure you looked damn good doing it.

The Scotiabank Arena towered before you, its massive sign glowing against the darkening Toronto skyline. The hum of the city surrounded you, a mix of muffled conversations, car horns, and the occasional cheer from a passing Leafs fan. Despite Jess’s earlier pep talk and her enthusiastic assurance that you looked “effortlessly stunning,” the butterflies in your stomach were relentless.

This wasn’t your first time at the arena—not by a long shot. You’d been here a few times for work, navigating its corridors and dealing with its buzzing energy. But tonight felt different. It was the first time you were here as a spectator, not a professional. The first time you were walking through these doors without the shield of a clipboard or a press pass. And, more importantly, the first time you were walking in as Auston Matthews’ guest.

You paused at the private entrance Auston had directed you to, smoothing your leather jacket nervously. His instructions had been straightforward: head here, and someone would meet you. He’d arrive separately with the team, as per their routine. He’d assured you it would go smoothly, but as you stood there, surrounded by a handful of stylishly dressed women who clearly belonged, you couldn’t help but feel like an outsider.

The door opened, and a woman stepped out, her confident stride and warm smile immediately drawing your attention. Aryne, John Tavares’ wife, you realised, recognising her from photos and media coverage. She exuded an effortless charm, her tailored coat draped perfectly over her shoulders and her makeup understated yet flawless.

“You must be Y/N!” Aryne said, her voice light and welcoming as she approached you. Without hesitation, she pulled you into a quick, friendly hug, her warmth immediately cutting through some of your nerves. “Auston told us you’d be here tonight.”

“Yeah,” you said, returning the hug with a tentative smile. “Thanks for letting me… uh, crash the party.”

Aryne laughed, waving off your comment as if it were absurd. “You’re not crashing anything. Trust me, it’s nice to have someone new around. Plus, Auston seemed pretty insistent that you’d fit right in.”

Her words eased the tightness in your chest slightly, though the mention of Auston made your cheeks warm. Aryne motioned for you to follow her inside, leading you down a hallway and into a lounge area where a few of the other partners and family members were gathered.

“Ladies,” Aryne announced, her tone playful, “this is Y/N. Auston’s…” She paused, giving you a cheeky grin. “New friend.”

The words hung in the air for a beat, and you felt the heat rise to your cheeks again. The women turned to greet you, their smiles genuine, though you could sense the curiosity behind their polite expressions.

“Hi,” you said, offering a small wave as you stepped into the room.

One of the women, Stephanie Marner, was the first to speak. She leaned back in her chair, her long blonde hair falling over her shoulder as she regarded you with an amused smile. “So, you and Auston, huh?” she teased, her tone light but curious.

You hesitated, trying to find the right words. “Uh… yeah,” you said finally, feeling your cheeks flush. “We’re… still getting to know each other.”

Tessa Virtue, Morgan Rielly’s wife, swooped in, saving you with a grin. “Don’t let them scare you,” she said, giving Stephanie a playful nudge. “We all had to go through this initiation phase, too.”

The group burst into laughter, and you found yourself smiling despite your nerves. The atmosphere in the room shifted, the tension easing as the women began to chat about the game, their partners, and their plans for the weekend. Their excitement was infectious, and though you still felt a little out of place, their warmth made it easier to relax. Plus, there were snacks for you to enjoy. Which made it oddly comforting.

And just as the group prepared to head to the suite, Aryne handed you a Toronto Maple Leafs cap with a knowing look.

“Here,” she said, holding it out to you. “You can’t sit in the stands without repping the team.”

You hesitated, glancing at the cap as if it might bite you. “I don’t know… I mean, isn’t this kind of…?”

Aryne rolled her eyes, smiling. “Come on. Consider it part of the experience. Plus, you’ll look great in it.”

The others chimed in with playful encouragement, and, reluctantly, you took the cap, sliding it on and adjusting it over your hair. The group cheered like you’d just scored a goal yourself, their playful energy infectious.

“Perfect,” Aryne said, stepping back to admire her work. “Now you’re officially one of us.”

For the first time that night, you felt a flicker of confidence. Maybe—just maybe—you could actually blend in. As you followed the group toward the suite, the buzz of the arena growing louder with each step, you decided to let yourself enjoy the moment, nerves, and all. After all, if Auston could play it cool, so could you.

The suite was an oasis of understated elegance and energy, seamlessly blending luxury with the electrifying anticipation of the arena below. Drinks and snacks prepared to indulge. Plush leather seats and floor-to-ceiling windows offered an unobstructed view of the rink, where players zipped across the ice during warm-ups, their movements fluid and precise. The low hum of the crowd grew louder as fans filtered in, their cheers and chants creating a symphony of excitement.

Settling into your seat between Aryne and Ashley, one of the newer partners, you let the energy of the arena wash over you. Aryne had already explained to you the program, complete with the team’s roster and a brief overview of tonight’s matchup. Ashley, a bubbly brunette with an infectious smile, leaned toward you as the players took their warm-up laps.

“This must feel different for you, right?” she asked, her tone light but curious. “I heard you usually work behind the scenes.”

You nodded, glancing out at the ice. “Yeah, it’s definitely a change. I’m used to having a laptop or a phone glued to my hand, trying to juggle a million things at once. But this?” You gestured toward the rink and the crowd. “It’s… nice.”

Aryne smirked, crossing her legs as she adjusted her jacket. “Give it time. You’ll get used to it. And just wait until the playoffs—then you’ll really see chaos.”

Her words made the women around you laugh knowingly, and you couldn’t help but smile. Despite your initial nerves, their easy camaraderie and willingness to include you made the night feel less intimidating. You could feel some of your tension melting away as the puck dropped and the game began.

The game itself was a rollercoaster of emotions, a vivid tapestry of skill and chaos that pulled you in from the first puck drop. The energy in the Scotiabank Arena was electric, surging and swelling with every rush up the ice and every close save. You found your eyes darting between players, trying to follow the puck as it zipped across the rink. The sheer speed of the game, the strategic elegance of the plays, and the raw, physical battles along the boards—it was hard not to be swept up in the spectacle.

The crowd around you amplified everything, their collective emotions vibrating through the space. The thunderous roar after a near-miss, the sharp intake of breath before a crucial face-off, and the rhythmic chants of “Go Leafs Go!” reverberating through the air. It was impossible not to feel their passion seep into your bones.

Still, despite the relentless pace of the game, your attention kept drifting back to Auston. There was something magnetic about watching him play. His movements were a blend of power and precision, each stride purposeful, each pass deliberate. When he had the puck on his stick, the arena seemed to hold its breath, waiting for him to make magic.

That magic moment came midway through the first period. Auston darted through the Blues’ defense, his movements calculated yet fluid. He threaded the puck between two defenders with an impossibly quick flick of his wrist, and the sound of it hitting the back of the net was almost drowned out by the eruption of cheers that followed.

The suite was no exception. Everyone around you shot to their feet, clapping and cheering as Auston raised his stick in triumph. The grin on his face as he glanced toward the crowd was equal parts exhilaration and pride.

And completely caught up in the energy, you found yourself standing, clapping, and smiling wider than you had in weeks. “That was incredible,” you muttered under your breath.

“See?” Aryne said, nudging you playfully with her elbow. “You’re already a good luck charm.”

You laughed, brushing off the comment as you sat back down. “I think that had more to do with him than me.”

“Maybe,” she teased with a knowing wink. “But we’re a superstitious bunch, so don’t be surprised if you get invited to every game from now on.”

The atmosphere only grew more charged as the game progressed. Between periods, Aryne and Ashley shared tips on following the plays, along with a few lighthearted stories about their partners’ quirks. The conversations were warm, easy, and genuine, slowly chipping away at your initial nerves.

By the second intermission, you were astonished by how much more at ease you felt. The tension that had gripped you earlier had dissipated, replaced by the infectious camaraderie of the group and the sheer joy of being part of the game-day experience.

“So,” Stephanie said, leaning in with a mischievous grin. “What’s it like being at the centre of all this Auston Matthews drama? You had to know what you were getting into.”

“Oh, definitely,” you replied with a mock-serious tone, rolling your eyes dramatically. “I totally signed up for endless speculation and internet sleuths digging into my life.”

The women laughed, their amusement genuine. Aryne smiled knowingly, adding, “It’s par for the course around here. You get used to it.”

Stephanie leaned back, her grin widening. “And Auston’s reputation doesn’t make it any easier, huh? He’s always been a rumour magnet.”

Without missing a beat, you shot back, “Yeah, I hear he’s got quite the reputation. Lucky me, right?”

The room erupted into laughter, Stephanie nearly spilling her drink as Aryne shot you an impressed look. “See? You’re already fitting in.”

The encouragement bolstered your confidence, and as the game wore on, you found yourself becoming more invested. The back-and-forth battle on the ice kept you on the edge of your seat, your heart racing with every breakaway and every save. You couldn’t help but cheer along with the rest of the suite, your voice blending into the symphony of excitement that filled the arena.

The third period was a nail-biter. The Leafs clung to a one-goal lead, the tension in the arena palpable with every tick of the clock. When the final buzzer sounded, confirming a 3-2 victory, the eruption of cheers was deafening. The players on the ice celebrated, hugging and fist-bumping as the crowd roared their approval.

In the suite, everyone was on their feet again, exchanging high-fives and hugs. Auston had notched two assists to go with his goal, and the chants of “MVP! MVP!” from the crowd sent a strange swell of pride through your chest.

For the first time in years, you felt more than just an observer. You weren’t sitting behind a screen, detached and analytical. You were part of the excitement, the energy, the celebration. And as you glanced around the suite, at the smiles and laughter surrounding you, you felt a flicker of something else—belonging.

“Oh, Toronto, what a night it was at Scotiabank Arena! The Leafs may have skated to a thrilling 3-2 victory over the St. Louis Blues, but let’s not pretend the game itself was the only highlight. Our Ice King, Auston Matthews, not only delivered a standout performance with a goal and two assists but also had an unmistakable aura of… let’s call it motivation.

And who, dear readers, could be the source of such inspiration? Why, none other than our newly anointed ‘Mystery Queen,’ spotted in the VIP section, clapping and cheering like a seasoned fan. Donning a Leafs cap—how perfectly symbolic—she blended in seamlessly with the partners and families, a feat not easily achieved.

Rumour has it she was quite the charmer, holding her own amidst the suite’s usual suspects with a mix of humour, wit, and perhaps a dash of nerves. But what does this mean for our beloved captain? Is she truly a lucky charm, or was this just another chess move in the ever-evolving Matthews narrative?

One thing’s for sure: the Ice King played like a man with something to prove. And with the crowd roaring and the Queen smiling in the stands, the buzz around this pairing only grows stronger.

Toronto, hold onto your pucks—this story is far from over. - The Benchwarmer”

The corridor leading to the players’ lounge had transformed into a hive of post-game celebration and camaraderie. The noise was an invigorating blend of laughter, cheers, and congratulatory chatter, punctuated by the occasional sound of a locker room door swinging open. The energy was infectious, and for the first time that evening, you felt a flicker of ease, like you might actually belong here.

Aryne walked beside you, her effortless grace balancing out your nervous energy. She glanced back over her shoulder, her warm smile a steadying presence. “You’re doing great,” she said, her voice just loud enough to cut through the din. “This is the fun part.”

You smiled back, grateful for her reassurance, but before you could respond, the door to the locker room opened again. This time, Auston stepped out, his figure unmistakable even in the sea of tall, athletic frames. Dressed in a sharp, fitted shirt and perfectly fitted trousers, he moved with an ease that only heightened his natural confidence. A faint sheen still clung to his brow from the game, but he didn’t seem to notice—or care.

His eyes locked on yours almost instantly, and a slow, easy grin spread across his face. His strides lengthened as he approached, and the world seemed to blur for a moment. The noise, the people, the buzzing energy—it all faded into the background.

“Hey,” he said, his voice lower and warmer than you remembered. “You made it.”

“Of course,” you replied, matching his smile. “You didn’t think I’d bail, did you?”

He chuckled softly, shaking his head. “Nah. You’re tougher than that.”

The way he said it—so simple, so sure—made your chest tighten unexpectedly. Before you could dwell on it, Auston turned slightly, gesturing toward the room behind him. “Come on. Let’s introduce you to the team for real.”

You followed him deeper into the family area, where the hum of conversation and bursts of laughter filled the space. Auston’s hand rested lightly on the small of your back as he guided you through the crowd, a touch so casual and natural it almost felt rehearsed. But it wasn’t—it was just him.

The first group he approached was of course Mitch Marner and William Nylander, two players whose reputations were as outsized as their talent. Mitch was mid-story, gesturing animatedly as William leaned against a nearby wall, nodding along with an amused smile.

“Hey, guys,” Auston said, cutting through their conversation. “You remember Y/N from the gala?”

Mitch turned first, his expression lighting up immediately. “Of course! Y/N, the one who somehow made Auston look like a gentleman for a night.”

You laughed, unable to stop the grin spreading across your face. “Well, someone had to do it.”

William chuckled, tipping his water bottle toward you. “Nice to see you again, Y/N. So, was this Auston’s idea, or did you volunteer for this madness?”

“Oh, completely forced,” you replied, your tone playful. “Though I wasn’t fully briefed on the chirping committee.”

Mitch clutched his chest in mock offense. “Chirping committee? Us? Matthews, she’s already calling you out. I like her.”

Auston smirked, shaking his head. “I told you, they’re relentless.”

From there, the introductions continued. John Tavares approached next, his calm demeanour a stark contrast to Mitch’s exuberance. He extended a hand, his grip firm but friendly. “Y/N, it’s good to see you again. How’s your night been?”

“Great,” you said, smiling. “Though I’ll admit, watching from the stands is a lot more stressful than it looks.”

John’s lips quirked into a knowing smile. “That’s how you know you’re invested. I’m glad you could make it.”

As the evening wore on, you found yourself engaged in easy banter with the players, their warmth and humour surprising you. Joseph Woll shyly recalled your conversation at the gala, lighting up when you mentioned PR strategies. Matthew Knies ribbed you about Auston’s music taste, and Morgan Rielly laughed as you poked fun at his dog’s Instagram fame.

Your quick wit seemed to resonate with the group, drawing laughter and amused glances. Even Auston, who often held back in these settings, seemed to relax, his usual aloofness giving way to a softer, more genuine side.

And at one point, Mitch turned to Auston with a mischievous grin. “So, how’d you manage to convince her to put up with you?”

Auston tilted his head thoughtfully. “She hasn’t run away yet, so I must be doing something right.”

You raised an eyebrow, your lips curving into a smirk. “I’m still weighing my options.”

The group erupted into laughter, Mitch nearly doubling over as Auston shook his head, a half-smile playing on his lips. “Thanks for that,” he muttered, his tone dry but amused.

As the conversations flowed and the players began to drift off to their families, you realised something you hadn’t expected: you were enjoying yourself. This world still felt foreign in many ways, but tonight, surrounded by their camaraderie and Auston’s steady presence, you felt like you were beginning to find your footing.

The ride home started out in comfortable silence, the hum of the engine blending with the muffled sounds of the city outside. The glow of streetlights filtered through the windows, casting fleeting patterns of light and shadow across the interior of Auston’s car. The events of the night replayed in your mind like a highlight reel: the nervousness of stepping into the suite, the tentative but welcoming smiles of the players’ partners and families, the rush of watching Auston score, and the camaraderie that had felt almost effortless by the end of the night. The tension you’d carried earlier had mostly dissipated, replaced by a quiet sense of accomplishment. You had survived—no, thrived—in a situation that had seemed impossibly daunting just hours ago.

As the car turned onto a quieter street, Auston glanced over at you briefly, his profile lit by the faint glow of the dashboard. “You were great tonight,” he said, his voice breaking the silence.

You looked over at him, caught off guard by the sincerity in his tone. “What, great at standing around and not embarrassing myself?” you teased lightly, shifting your gaze back to the city passing by outside. “Well, I didn’t trip over my words or accidentally insult anyone, so I’ll take that as a win.”

Auston chuckled, but his expression remained serious. “No, I mean it,” he said, his voice a touch more earnest now. “The guys really liked you. You fit in. Like… it wasn’t forced. It seemed natural.”

His words hung in the air for a moment, and you turned to him, one brow arched in faint amusement. “You sound surprised.”

“I’m not surprised,” he said quickly, though the slight pause in his response made you wonder if he was trying to convince himself. “Just… impressed. I didn’t expect you to settle into the group so easily.”

You smiled faintly, shaking your head as you leaned back in your seat. “That’s just me playing my part,” you said, your tone soft but pointed. “You said we needed to sell this, so I’m selling it.”

Auston gave a small laugh, the corners of his mouth lifting into a brief smirk. “Well, you’re a pretty damn good actress then.”

The air in the car shifted, a comfortable quiet settling over you both. But there was something in his expression—something softer, almost contemplative—that caught you off guard. For a moment, the usual arrogance and bravado that seemed to define him weren’t there. Instead, you saw a glimpse of something deeper, more genuine. It made your stomach flutter in a way you didn’t expect.

“Thanks for coming tonight,” Auston added after a beat, his voice quieter now. “It was a good move, but… I’m happy you were there.”

You blinked at him, the honesty in his words catching you off guard again. “Well, I’m glad it worked out,” you said with a small smile. “And I guess I didn’t hate it.”

“High praise,” he said with a playful smirk, but there was a warmth in his eyes that lingered.

For the first time all night, the car felt like a bubble—separate from the city’s hum outside and the buzz of the game that had filled the hours before. Auston’s casual arrogance, so often grating, seemed to have softened into something more vulnerable. It wasn’t something he said, but the quiet moments in between, the glances he threw your way when he thought you weren’t looking. The way he listened when you spoke, like he wasn’t just going through the motions. For a fleeting second, you thought you might be wrong about him—that maybe beneath the smug exterior, there was a person worth knowing.

But just as that thought began to take root, the shrill ding of a notification shattered it. His phone, glowing on the center console, displayed the kind of text you couldn’t misinterpret: Tonight? I’ll be free after midnight. The name attached wasn’t familiar, but it didn’t have to be. The implications were clear.

A dry, involuntary laugh escaped your lips. “Of course,” you said, your voice dripping with derision. “The line forms to the left, huh?”

Auston’s head snapped toward you, his brows knitting together. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

You gestured toward his phone, still illuminated with the incriminating message. “Oh, come on,” you said, unable to keep the bitterness out of your tone. “You’ve got half of Toronto’s pussies lining up to keep you company. It’s impressive, really.”

His jaw tensed, the easygoing confidence from just moments ago replaced with something harder. “You shouldn’t even care,” he said, his voice clipped. “It’s none of your business.”

“That’s rich,” you shot back, turning to face him fully. “You’re the one who wanted this fake relationship. Maybe try not to blow it by making it obvious you’re still… fucking the entire city. Plus other cities.”

For a moment, the only sound in the car was the low hum of the engine. Auston’s fingers tightened around the steering wheel, his knuckles pale against the leather. “I’m not blowing anything,” he said finally, his voice sharper now, defensive. “And you don’t get to tell me how to live my life.”

You let out an exasperated laugh, throwing your hands up in frustration. “Oh well maybe I do when you’re ruining this for yourself, Auston. If you want people to believe we’re becoming a thing, maybe don’t act like you’re one text away from another hookup.”

His face darkened, his cool exterior cracking under the weight of your words. “You think it’s that easy?” he shot back, his voice rising slightly. “That I can just flip a switch and turn it all off? I still have needs, you know.”

“Oh poor boy. You know not all of us feel the need to fuck every single living organism,” you snapped, the words spilling out before you could stop them. “It’s really simple.”

Auston’s jaw worked as he processed your jab, his nostrils flaring slightly. But instead of anger, a flicker of amusement crossed his face, his lips curling into a half-smirk. “Oh, is that what this is?” he said, his tone almost mocking. “You’re some sort of fucking saint? Like guys aren’t throwing themselves at you? You act like you’re a nun or something”

The weight of his accusation hit you square in the chest, and for a moment, you couldn’t breathe. Your heart pounded, each beat reverberating in your ears as the truth—the embarrassing, vulnerable truth—sat on the tip of your tongue. And in your frustration, it spilled out before you could stop it.

“What if I am, Auston?” you said, your voice sharper now, thick with unfiltered honesty. “Not all of us measure our self-worth by how many people we’ve slept with. Not everyone wants to be dicked down by so-called famous hockey players. And not all of us have guys lining up for us to pick and choose.”

The words hung heavy in the air, the sharp edges of your voice cutting through the tense silence that had settled between you. Auston’s half-smirk vanished, replaced by an expression you couldn’t quite decipher—shock, maybe, or disbelief. His grip on the wheel tightened.

For a moment, he didn’t say anything, his gaze fixed on the road ahead. Then he glanced at you, his eyes searching your face for something—confirmation, maybe, or an explanation. “Wait,” he said, his voice quieter now, but no less intense. “You’re serious?”

You turned your head sharply to face him, your jaw set, and your cheeks burning with a mix of anger and embarrassment. “What do you think, Auston?” you snapped. “Does it sound like I’m joking?”

His eyes flickered between you and the road again, his brows furrowing as if he couldn’t quite process what he was hearing. “I just… I didn’t expect—” He broke off, shaking his head slightly. “I mean, look at you.”

Your laugh was bitter, cutting through the thick tension. “Yeah, I get that a lot. ‘Look at you.’ Like that’s supposed to explain everything. Guess what, Auston? Not everyone gets a free pass to the front of the line just because they look a certain way.”

His jaw tightened at your tone, but his expression softened in a way that made you uncomfortable, like he was seeing you in a light you hadn’t intended to reveal. “That’s not what I meant,” he said, his voice low. “I just… I can’t believe guys aren’t—” He stopped himself again, running a hand through his hair as he exhaled sharply. “You’re telling me you’ve never…”

You crossed your arms, staring out the window as you interrupted him. “Not in the way you’re thinking. I’m not a virgin… I just… haven’t had… several. And before you ask, no, it’s not because I’m waiting for ‘the one’ or some bullshit like that. It’s just… life, okay? I’ve had other things to focus on.”

The admission felt like a weight pressing down on your chest, but you refused to look at him, afraid of what you might see in his expression. Pity? Judgment? Mockery? You didn’t want any of it.

Auston was quiet for a long moment, his hands gripping the wheel as he processed what you’d said. When he finally spoke, his voice was quieter, more measured. “I didn’t mean to make it sound like… like that’s all that matters. I’m just… surprised, I guess.”

“Well, congrats,” you muttered, your voice dripping with sarcasm. “Glad I could surprise you.”

He let out a slow breath, his jaw working as though he was choosing his next words carefully. “I wasn’t trying to make you feel bad. I swear. It’s just… unexpected. That’s all.”

“Yeah, well,” you said, your tone still sharp, “maybe don’t assume everyone lives their life the way you do.”

That hit its mark. You saw his jaw clench, his lips pressing into a thin line. “You don’t know anything about my life,” he said finally, his voice low and tense.

“Don’t I?” you shot back dryly, turning to face him. “You make it pretty obvious, Auston. The texts, the smug attitude, the way you act like you’ve got everything and everyone figured out. It’s not exactly a mystery.”

He inhaled sharply, his hands gripping the wheel harder. “You think I don’t know what people say about me? What they think? You think it’s easy being in the spotlight all the time, having everyone assume they know who you are?”

You stared at him, momentarily taken aback by the vulnerability in his voice. It was the first time he’d let his guard slip, even slightly, and for a moment, you didn’t know how to respond.

“I get it,” you said finally, your voice softer now. “But that doesn’t mean you have to live up to their expectations, Auston. You’re allowed to be more than what they see.”

His eyes flicked toward you briefly, something unreadable flickering in his gaze before he turned back to the road. “Maybe,” he said quietly. “But it’s not as simple as you think.”

Neither of you spoke for the rest of the drive, the silence heavy with the weight of unspoken words. When he finally pulled up outside your building, you unbuckled your seatbelt and reached for the door handle.

“Goodnight, Auston,” you said, your voice flat.

He hesitated, his hands still on the wheel. “Goodnight, Y/N.”

You stepped out of the car without looking back, the cool night air hitting your skin like a slap. As you walked toward your building, your mind raced, replaying every word, every moment of the conversation. You’d shown Auston a side of yourself you hadn’t meant to reveal, and now you weren’t sure if you could ever take it back.

And yet, beneath the anger and the embarrassment, there was something else—a flicker of curiosity. For the first time, you’d seen cracks in Auston’s carefully constructed facade, glimpses of the person beneath the arrogance. And as much as you hated to admit it, you couldn’t help but wonder what else he was hiding.

Auston sat in the dim silence of his car a bit longer after you’d walked away, his hands still gripping the steering wheel. The image of your expression—hurt, frustrated, and vulnerable—lingered in his mind, gnawing at him in a way he couldn’t shake. A part of him felt guilty. He’d crossed a line, and he knew it. Mocking something so deeply personal wasn’t just unkind; it was cruel.

He leaned back against the seat, exhaling slowly as he stared out at the empty street. Why had he reacted like that? It wasn’t like him to lose his composure, but something about you—your sharp tongue, your defiance, the way you challenged him—had him constantly off balance. And now, after tonight, he couldn’t stop replaying your words.

He tried to make sense of it. You weren’t like the other women he’d been around. They had always been eager, predictable, and easy to impress. But you? You were different. Gorgeous, smart, and fiercely independent. You had a drive and ambition that matched his own, yet there was something you held back, something that made you guarded. It wasn’t insecurity, not entirely. It was like you didn’t see yourself the way others did, like you didn’t realise how much power you actually had.

It frustrated him, but more than that, it intrigued him. How could someone like you not have the confidence to own a room? To own yourself? If you could just see what he saw, you’d be unstoppable.

That’s when the idea hit him—a small spark at first, but the longer he sat there, the more it began to take shape. Maybe this was something he could help you with. After all, confidence was something he had in abundance. It wasn’t just about his career or his reputation; it was a part of him, ingrained in everything he did. And if there was one thing Auston Matthews excelled at, besides hockey, it was teaching people how to win.

The thought gave him a strange sense of purpose, something he wasn’t used to feeling outside the rink. He knew he’d have to tread carefully—suggesting such a thing wasn’t exactly subtle—but if he could help you unlock the confidence you seemed to lack, maybe you’d start to see yourself the way he saw you.

And as he drove home, his mind raced with possibilities, already planning how he could broach the topic without making it awkward. When he finally parked outside his place, the notifications on his phone buzzed incessantly. He unlocked it to find a flood of messages—texts, DMs, and even missed calls—from women he’d hooked up with in the past. The sight of their names and their offers for late-night company felt almost… hollow. Normally, this would be a welcome distraction, a way to shake off the stress of the day. But tonight, none of it appealed to him.

He stared at the screen for a moment before locking his phone and tossing it back into his pocket. For the first time in a long time, the usual comforts didn’t hold the same allure. Instead, his thoughts kept circling back to you—your fire, your vulnerability, and the way you’d thrown his own arrogance back in his face. It unsettled him, but it also left him wanting more.

Auston couldn’t explain it, but he knew one thing for certain: helping you wasn’t just about making this fake relationship believable anymore. It had become something else entirely.

“Dearest Toronto readers,

Ah, fairytales. What we love most about them isn’t the ball, the glimmering gowns, or even the triumphant cheers of the crowd—it’s the moment the clock strikes midnight. When the glitter fades and the truth steps out from behind its polished veneer. Tonight, our kingdom was alive with victory: William Nylander displayed his prowess, and the ever-wonderful Joseph Woll stood tall as a fortress in the net.

But what of our King and his Queen?

The public saw perfection—two figures poised and radiant, playing their parts to the delight of the masses. Yet, what happens after the stars leave the castle? When the carriage rolls down quieter streets and the world’s eyes no longer linger? Is that the faintest hint of cracks we see forming in their carefully constructed foundation?

Your Majesties, is the story over before it’s even begun?

One must wonder, Toronto. For even in the most enchanting tales, there’s always the question: was it all just an illusion?

Yours always,

The Benchwarmer”

#The Benchwarmer #inexperienced!reader x Auston #auston matthews fanfic #Toronto maple leafs fanfic #nhl fanfiction #nhl romance #nhl imagines

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221beeeeeee · 1 day ago

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✨ John & Sherlock: The Evolution of Sharing a Bed – The “I Don’t Need Sleep, I Need Answers” to “Out Like a Light” John Watson Weighted Blanket Pipeline ✨

Pre-Relationship (Insomnia Is Just a Concept, John)

- “I don’t require sleep, John. My brain operates at peak efficiency without the unnecessary biological shutdown of unconsciousness.”

- Translation: Sherlock is running on 72 hours of caffeine, spite, and a rapidly deteriorating sense of self-preservation.

- John tries to get him to rest. Tries.

- “Have you considered not being a lunatic?”

- “Have you considered that your concern is wasted on me?”

- “You snored halfway through our last client’s meeting.”

- “…Irrelevant……They were boring”

- Sherlock has perfected the art of “resting his eyes” while still arguing a point mid-sentence.

- But sometimes John finds him asleep in the armchair, a book open in his lap, looking... peaceful.

- John doesn’t say anything. Just drapes a blanket over him and turns off the lamp.

- Sherlock always claims he doesn’t remember falling asleep.

Right After Being a Thing (John = Human Sedative?)

- First time they share a bed properly, John expects Sherlock to toss and turn all night, talking to himself, overthinking, doing anything but sleeping.

- Instead?

- Out. Like. A. Light.

- John blinks at the ceiling. Sherlock is already dead to the world, sprawled half on top of him, breathing deep and steady.

- “Unbelievable.”

- Sherlock wakes up eight hours later, confused and suspicious.

- “That was an anomaly.”

- “Mate, that was a bloody miracle.”

- Spoiler: It wasn’t an anomaly.

Being a Thing (Sherlock “I Don’t Sleep” Holmes Is Now a Certified Nap Expert)

- The second Sherlock is in John’s bed? Gone. Fully unconscious within minutes.

- The man is a walking case study on “touch-starved genius finally gets sleep.”

- “It’s a coincidence.” Sherlock mutters, face buried in John’s shoulder.

- It is not a coincidence.

- John makes the mistake of mentioning it to Mrs. Hudson. She tells everyone.

- “Oh, Sherlock always sleeps so much better when his boyfriend is home!”

- “Not my boyfriend.”

- “Darling, you have his initials on your mug.”

- If John moves too much in the middle of the night? Sherlock grumbles and tightens his grip like John is an inconvenient pillow that has dared to escape.

- The real kicker? Sherlock no longer pulls all-nighters if John is in bed.

- “Just one more test, then I’ll come to bed.”

- “Sherlock.”

- “…Fine.” Immediately curls into John and is asleep in 30 seconds.

- John doesn’t even have to try anymore. Sherlock naturally starts winding down the second he’s near him.

- Sherlock Holmes, who never needed sleep, now sleeps best tangled up with John Watson

#johnlock #sherlock #john watson #sherlock bbc #sherlock x john #221b baker street #sherlock fandom #sherlock and john #sherlock holmes fanart #sherlolly

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svt-luna · 3 days ago

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ʚིᵋ ⋆ INSTAGRAM UPDATE ࣪ ! ˓ ౨ৎ ࣪˖ ─── 250216: Cosmo

╰ ౨ৎ LUNA-VERSE MASTERLIST ╰ ౨ৎ luna's instagram

Liked by jeonghaniyoo_n, sound_of_coups, dk_is_dokyeom and 8,652,999 others

lunabae in a Barbie world with @/cosmopolitankorea 💞

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lunaismymother EVERYONE STAY CALM!!! BAE JIYEON IS BLONDE AGAIN!!! 🚨🚨🚨

jiyeonielover_ HO THAT BETTER NOT BE A WIG

↳ user1464335644 OH LAWD IT PROBABLY IS 😀

ashonashonash MOTHER HAS RETURNED TO HER TRUE FORM. BLONDE LUNA ERA IS BACK!!

svtluna_14 DO NOT LOOK DIRECTLY AT HER OR YOU WILL TURN TO STONE. SHE IS TOO POWERFUL.

bbjiyeonie THIS IS NOT A DRILL. BLONDE LUNA SUPREMACY IS RESTORED 🥹💕💕

shadowsvt_97 let’s be completely honest here… Bae Jiyeon is born to be a blonde 😩

↳ moonlightbae SO TRUE! I mean, she looks good with whatever color but blonde Jiyeon just hits different 💋🤌

jeonghaniyoo_n Hi Barbie 🩷

↳ lunabae Hi Ken 🩵

↳ user052615 there they go…

↳ jeongnadaily CAN YOU TWO LET US BREATHE FOR ONE SECOND???? JUST ONE?!?

↳ jxjforever I feel like a third wheel in their relationship at this point.

↳ donquxiote17 They do this ON PURPOSE. They wake up every morning and CHOOSE to ruin our day in the cutest way possible.

jeongnashipper_ Han and Luna always in the comments flirting 🤭 they are adorable

gyugyu_1997 Jeonghan’s only social media presence these days is commenting on Luna’s posts and flirting with her in her lives… KING BE SO REAL FOR THAT.

lunanova Jeonghan left for the military and really said ‘I have only one job now and it’s to publicly simp for my fiancée and honestly, respect

yjh_bjy Jeonghan being MIA from the internet except when it comes to Luna is actually hilarious to me. Man has his priorities straight 🤭

sundaymorning_95 Jiyeon is Barbie, Jeonghan is Ken… but let’s be honest, Jeonghan is the one living in HER world 🩷🩵

ೃ⁀➷ comment or message me to be added to the tag list

:) ˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ SUBMIT A REQUEST AND ASK ME ANYTHING!

: ̗̀➛ requests are always open ♡ - lunaఌ

Taglist: @yeoberryx @minminghao @angie-x3 @jennwonwoo @k13endall @heeseungthel0ml @chisskaa @megumi2020 @yoonzzziino @lllucere @smh-anon @yveclipse @randomworker @bunnystrm @iamawkwardandshy @gratefulbunny1 @bmo-bri @syren-ash @megseungmin @multiplums @unlikelysublimekryptonite @night-storm7 @cookiearmy @seokqt @btskzfav @billboard-singer @junhuisworld @caturdayvibe @coralbatlampzonk @sof1eya @lyraea @jihoonsbbygirl @cocopuff2424 @okoknotco @minvxq @soulphoenix1618 @whineywheeiny @rairaine @toplinehyunjin @ateez-atiny380 @cherrylovescheol @jiimtaee @blurr3db3rry @seomisaho @amanda08319 @peanutbutterslothsstuff @cheolsboo @allthings-fandoms @mystic-megumi @sherlockbye @tastyluvr @luperque @reignofraine @kpoplover-19 @star2013 @frankenstein852 @axleighkaize @jmkookie01 @shhh94 @gigglensnort @stupendouscookiehumanmug

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tonysbed · 17 hours ago

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Secrets I keep | Part 18

Max Fewtrell x Norris!reader

Lando Norris x sister!reader

summary: You and Max have been dancing around your feelings for years but jealousy gets the best of us all..

series masterlist | previous | next

yn and maxfewtrell

liked by lando, riabish, oscarpiastri and 739.610 others

yn and maxfewtrell one year of us (officially 😬) ❤️❤️

keeganpalmer Officially? I’m pms 😂😭

oscarpiastri yeah, unofficially i’d say 10 years

yn oscar 😭😭

landonorris ❤️❤️

user If you would’ve told me this 2 years ago, I would’ve laughed in your face

user so happy that they feel more comfortable now

user If they’re posting..does this mean we finally get streamer!max back? 👀🫠

yn 👀

user AHHHH

riabish my favs 🌹

yn babeeee

user they’re endgame I fear

Max had faced high-pressure situations before—big contracts, last-minute decisions, even a few near-miss disasters—but sitting at this dinner table? Easily one of the most nerve-wracking moments of his life.

The restaurant is quiet, the kind of place where the lighting is soft, the wine is expensive, and the staff moves with an almost invisible grace. He figured it was the right setting for this conversation—serious but intimate. Something that said, I’m not just asking out of formality. I mean this.

Across from him sit the three most important people in her life.

Lando, who has been eyeing him with an unreadable expression since they sat down.

Ciska, who is stirring her wine absentmindedly, sharp gaze flicking between Max and her husband like she already knows what’s coming.

And Adam, who sits back in his chair, arms crossed over his chest, the very image of a protective father.

Max clears his throat, setting his glass down carefully. “So,” he starts, trying not to sound like his heart is hammering in his chest. “I asked you all here because I wanted to talk to you about something important.”

Ciska raises an eyebrow, but her expression is mostly amused. “Go on.”

Max glances at Lando, then at Adam, and finally settles his gaze on both parents. “I love your daughter,” he says simply. No preamble, no sugarcoating. Just the truth. “And I want to marry her.”

Lando lets out a quiet groan, dragging a hand down his face. Ciska inhales slightly, her expression softening, while Adam remains unreadable.

Max continues before any of them can interrupt. “I know what she means to you. And I know what this—what us—means. I wouldn’t be sitting here if I wasn’t completely sure about this. I want to spend my life with her.” He exhales slowly. “And I’d like your blessing.”

A pause. A long, heavy pause.

Then, Adam leans forward, resting his arms on the table. His voice is even, but there’s a weight behind his words. “And you’re sure? About all of this?”

Max nods without hesitation. “Absolutely.”

Adam studies him, and Max doesn’t look away. He wants them to see it—his certainty, his love for her, all of it.

Ciska is the first to speak after that. She reaches for her glass, lips curving into something knowing. “Well, I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised,” she muses. “The way she talks about you… she’s already halfway married to you anyway.”

Max lets out a breath of relief, but Adam still hasn’t spoken again.

Then, finally, Adam sighs. “If I say no, would that stop you?”

Max hesitates but shakes his head. “No,” he admits. “But it would mean a lot to have your support.”

There’s another pause, and then Adam finally—finally—nods. “Alright.” He gives Max a pointed look. “But if you ever hurt her, we’ll have a different conversation.”

“Understood,” Max says instantly.

Ciska claps her hands together, eyes bright with excitement. “Well, now that that’s settled, tell us how you’re going to do it.”

Max grins, some of the tension easing from his shoulders. “Italy. A private beach. Just us, dinner, fairy lights, and a scrapbook I made of our relationship. When she reaches the last page, it’ll tell her to turn around, and that’s when I’ll be on one knee.”

Ciska puts a hand over her heart. “That’s perfect.”

Lando, who has been unusually quiet, finally sighs. “You really made a scrapbook?”

Max shoots him a look. “Yes.”

Lando stares for a moment, then nods, taking a sip of his drink. “Alright. You deserve her.”

Max chuckles, but there’s something grateful in his eyes. “I know.”

“You never did something like that for me” Lando says, crossing his arms and fake pouting. Max chuckled “Well I don’t wanna marry you!” Ciska grins amused.

“Pff. Anyway. Who is coming to the trip in italy?”

“Well..You guys, And.. Oh fuck” Max grimaced “What?” “I have to talk to Alexandra” Max lays his head on the table as Lando dies of laughter.

That is gonna be a fun conversation.

Max isn’t sure why he’s nervous.

He’s already survived asking her parents and Lando—surely Alexandra should be the easiest of the bunch. But as he watches her sit across from him, arms crossed, expression unreadable, he realizes that might have been wishful thinking.

It’s been three months since his last mistake—the one Alexandra still hasn’t fully forgiven him for. He doesn’t blame her. He would’ve been mistrusting too if he was in her shoes.

Which is why he needs this. Her approval, her trust.

“You’ve been staring at me for a full minute,” Alexandra says, raising an eyebrow. “Spit it out, Max.”

Max clears his throat, gripping his coffee cup a little tighter. He figured a café would be a neutral setting—somewhere casual, somewhere that didn’t make it seem like he was walking into an interrogation room. In hindsight, it didn’t matter. Alexandra is an interrogation room.

“I want to propose,” he says finally, straightforward as ever.

She doesn’t react. Just blinks once, slow and deliberate, before leaning back in her chair. “Huh.”

“Huh?” Max repeats. That’s not a yes. That’s not a no. That’s nothing.

Alexandra tilts her head, studying him. “You’re serious about this?”

“Dead serious.”

“And you’re telling me because…?”

“Because I want your blessing,” Max says. “I know you’ve had your doubts about me. And I know—” He hesitates, then sighs. “I know I messed up before. But it’s been months, and I’d like to think I’ve proven to you that I’m not going anywhere. That I love her the way she deserves to be loved.”

Alexandra exhales slowly, drumming her fingers against the table. “Tell me how you’re going to do it.”

Max hides his relief well. He knows this isn’t a yes yet, but the fact that she’s asking means she’s considering it.

“Italy,” he starts, and he watches her expression flicker with something close to approval. “Private beach. Just us, dinner, fairy lights, music in the background. I made her a scrapbook—photos, notes, everything from the start of our relationship. When she reaches the last page, it’ll tell her to turn around, and that’s when I’ll be on one knee.”

Alexandra exhales through her nose, shaking her head with something close to disbelief. “You made a scrapbook?”

Max nods. “Spent weeks on it.”

She clicks her tongue, then finally—finally—smiles. “Okay. That’s actually kind of perfect.”

“So… is that a yes?”

Alexandra sighs dramatically, but her lips are still curled upward. “Yeah, Max. You have my blessing.”

Max grins, relieved. “Thank you.”

“Just promise me one thing,” she says, pointing a finger at him. “Don’t ever give me a reason to regret this.”

Max meets her gaze, serious. “I won’t.”

She nods, sipping her coffee, eyes not leaving him. He squirms a bit under her hard glare.

“You are aware that I know how much you love her, right?” She chuckled, form relaxing. Max tilts his head “Yeah-of course!”

“And trust me, you’ll be glad it was me who opened that door, otherwise you would’ve been six feet under. Kelly doesn’t play nice about her” Max nods “Good. Have you got a ring already?”

“I got an idea but..her size is a bit of a problem” He scratched his head as Alexandra’s smile widened “Have you forgotten who’s sitting in front of you?”

yn added to their story

[ cap: 🇲🇨 🔜🇮🇹 | cap2: date night 🍷❤️]

Alexandra watches your story with a smile, as Lando comes out of his room “Is this okay?” He looks at her and Charles.

“Yeah, you actually look dezent for once” Charles chuckled “Mate, at least I won good jeans” Lando scoffed and Charles looks offended “Okay boys, enough. Yes lando, it’s okay. Charles, how about we see how Max and Kelly are?” She moves charles away as she sees Ciska approaching.

I don’t even know if I’m able to write 20 parts but i’m trying my best haha. And tonight is the F1 event. As far as I know them, it’s gonna be a clown show 😭🫠

#formula one imagine #lando norris x sister!reader #max fewtrell imagine #max fewtrell x you #norris!reader #max fewtrell smut

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