#but that wouldn't make the new design 'wrong'

[reginaphalangelobster125]

Hoodie

Steve Rogers x Reader (romantic or platonic)

Summary: A mission doesn't go to plan and Steve blames himself.

Warnings: mild description of injuries, beating, mild blood, a lot of pain, angst, hurt/comfort, a little fluff

Word Count: 1.5k

Author's Notes: I wrote this with a platonic female reader in mind but apart from one reference to girls night it could be read as gender neutral. It could be romantic but I love Steve as a friend to the reader and there just don't seem to be that many fics where he's not a love interest or parental figure, but those are just my experiences. Anyways, I hope you enjoy!

He was supposed to have your back but he saw a civilian who needed help, he got them to safety but not you. In the minute he had his back turned they had taken you.

He got the rest of the team to help and they eventually found you, on the floor. You were laying on a dirty concrete floor, chained to the wall. You were curled up, bloody and beaten. You had pretty substantial internal bleeding, at least that's what Bruce said. You had a huge bruise on your face, covering one of your eyes and a few small cuts. You had bruises all over your body but most of them were on your torso. You had a few broken ribs and a fracture in your left leg, making it much harder for you to move.

You were in a hospital bed for a few days and you almost went stir crazy so you moved to your room. Everyone in the team came by to check on you between missions. Tony showed you some new prototypes he was working on, after you begged him too. Sam brought some old family recipe he'd cooked up that was supposed to be good for healing, you didn't know if it was or not but it tasted great. Clint dragged Bucky in and made him play Uno with the two of you. It was fun for a while until you were about to murder Clint, luckily Bucky was there and he stopped you from busting your stitches, just barely. Bruce came to check your vitals but he ended up staying for a bit and you watched some trashy TV show that he loved, definitely not what you would've expected but it was fun to yell at the idiot, who was probably named Chad, for picking the wrong girl. Nat, Wanda and Loki came by for a girls night, Loki may not be a girl but he's one of your girls in the truest sense and he would never let it go if he wasn't invited to a girls night. You painted each other's nails, did each other's hair and watched cheesy romance movies (purely to annoy Nat). Thor stopped by at one point, of course it was when you were painting Loki's nails, at this point Loki couldn't exactly surprise Thor anymore so he just sat down with you all and joined in. By the end of the night he had let you paint his nails and he loved the little hammer designs you put on them. Even Vision floated in through your wall, scaring you half to death, but he was surprisingly good company.

The only person who didn't come to see you was Steve. He felt incredibly guilty and threw himself into missions and paperwork and anything to get his mind off of his failure, off of you and your pain. You called him a few times but he wouldn't answer. You knew he could because you spent a week teaching him how to use his phone. You called Bucky and asked him to check on Steve but he said that Steve wouldn't let anyone in his room, let alone talk to someone. You finally caught him on his way to the quinjet. He told you he was going on a mission and he couldn't talk.

Steve knew the mission was dangerous but he had to be Captain America and go anyway. You begged to come with him but he insisted you stay back and recover. You still weren't back to your usual self, it still hurt to move too much. Steve wouldn't let you go, he was still beating himself up for what had happened to you. You tried to get him to at least take someone else with him but he wouldn't listen, he just left.

He had been gone for three weeks and you couldn't stop worrying about him. When he didn't check in on the day he was meant to you cried, Steve always checked in. You were convinced something awful had happened to him. You were walking back to your room and you saw his door was open just a little. You stepped in and your senses were overwhelmed by him. His room was everything anyone would expect, very clean and tidy, not much stuff but enough. There was one thing that seemed out of place, a hoodie was laying atop his perfectly made bed.

It was the same hoodie that you got him for his birthday. It was dark blue, matching his stealth uniform and it had white writing on it, it said 'Est. 1918'. When you gave it to him he laughed at first, then he gave you a huge hug since most people don't know anything about his birthday except the whole 4th of July thing. Most people just say he's over a hundred and make jokes but you really cared. You picked up the hoodie and it smelled like him, making you smile. You pulled it on over your head and it felt like Steve was right there, hugging you and making everything feel okay. It was huge and it hung loosely over your body, going halfway down your thighs. Some would say you looked ridiculous but you felt comfortable and safe.

Days later and you were sitting on a big armchair in your room with your legs curled up under you. You were just staring out the window and watching the city, still in Steve's hoodie. You sat there for hours, completely zoned out, before you heard a knock on your door. You didn't respond, still not sure if you heard it or not.

"It's me" A low, sad voice said from behind the door. You immediately recognised Steve. As you rushed to get up you felt a large twist of pain in your side and sat back down.

"Come in" You called out through gritted teeth, trying not to alert Steve of your pain.

He slowly opened the door, almost afraid to come in and face you. It sounded ridiculous Captain America afraid of you, but he was, he was afraid you hated him. He stood behind the chair you were in, not wanting to face you.

"Are, are you feeling any better?"

"Yeah, are you okay?"

"Me? Why would you care about me? It's my fault y-"

"No it's not, don't think that"

"But it is"

"You were doing what you are supposed to do, save people"

"But I didn't save you"

"Yes you did"

"But I was too late, they already hurt you"

"I've been hurt a lot of times, this wasn't anything new"

"But-"

"But nothing, I'm alive because of you and I won't let you say otherwise"

He let out a small chuckle "God, you're stubborn"

"Yes, but that's why you love me"

"It sure is"

He came around to stand next to you and he saw what you were wearing.

"Is that my-"

"Sorry, I'll give it back"

"No, you look...comfy"

"Yeah, it's um, it's really soft"

"Is that why you took it?"

"No-not exactly"

"Then why?"

"It, it smells like you"

He looked at you for a moment with a questioning expression on his face.

"I know it sounds stupid but, it makes me feel safe, you make me feel safe"

"After everything that's happened, I make you feel safe?"

"Yeah, I was scared you wouldn't come back and this was, nice"

"Why did you think I wouldn't come back?"

"You didn't check in with Tony when you were supposed to"

"I didn't? I sent the message"

"You did?"

"Yeah, it mustn't have gone through" He pulled out his phone and checked his messages "Oh, I didn't press send"

You started to cry and laugh at the same time "You big idiot!"

Steve stared to laugh too "Hey I'm not, okay fair enough this time"

"Come here" You grabbed his arm and pulled him down into the chair with you "You may be an idiot sometimes but you're my idiot"

He was so close to you, he could really see your face, he could see the fading bruises and cuts. He brought his hand up to your cheek and his fingers grazed over the bruise, feather light. He travelled over the bruise on your eye and the small cut just above. His palm cradled your head and his thumb brushed across your cheek.

"I'm so sorry"

You placed your hand over his and squeezed gently "It's okay, Steve"

"I know it's not"

You finally broke, you started to cry and you leaned into him. You buried your face in his chest and wept, soaking his shirt with your tears. His arms wrapped around you, holding you tight.

"It hurts" You whimpered through heavy sobs.

"I know" He said as he kissed the top of your head, squeezing you a little tighter, not wanting to let go.

You laid in his arms for hours, letting yourself feel the pain you had been repressing. You were so tired, you eventually fell asleep, but Steve still held you.

Tags:

@impetusofadream @goldfishthegr8 @avengers-official-recruit-agent @goreygirl03 @xenasolos @sparklyturtlefox @rios-sythe @nekoannie-chan @ilovemarvel12 @hayneyney @n3ponen @8812-342. @everyonesfriend @pinkthick @craftytacopiecash @meryuniverse @aliljaybird

[elswing]

trop antis loudly complaining that the writers are changing the lore (source: reddit told me) conveniently forget that half the fun of tolkien's work is that everyone has their own interpretation due to tolkien HIMSELF having about 17 versions of Quite Literally Everything. half the stuff they think is Lore™ (source: tumblr told me) is actually just widespread fanon

[bitedownme]

Scarlett King what do you think about the hanged king ?

: Doesn't seem interested in answering this in more detail either. :

[arolesbianism]

Thinks oh so hard abt raccoon au printing pod doomed yuri.... What if you were a robot in love with your fellow robot but your past human selves had to fuck it all up and murder eachother 🙄

[gremlingottoosilly]

Reader accidentally getting married to a complete stranger (König) after a drunken night? With complete documentation and all.

Your head is pounding. Your throat feels like you were enjoying a light snack of needles and sand last night. Your pussy feels like you decided to fuck yourself with a baseball bat and came three times during it. There is a man in your bed - well, not even your bed, but a bed. A bed in a room that you do not recognise, with a man that you do not recognize. He has his hand thrown over your waist and you can spot a ring on his hand - fucking great, you slept with a married guy. Maybe, you could just slowly ease yourself from under his body and make. a quick run for your life before his wife is here, so... There is a ring on your finger. Same vintage design, maybe a bit more elegant. Giant diamond in the middle, making it look like something you definitely wouldn't want to wear on a daily basis. The guy snores quietly behind you, the outline of his muscular body makes you shiver with desire. So, you did sleep with a married guy. It's just that he was married to you. If you think that convincing Konig that it was all a drunk mistake and you should divorce as soon as possible so you wouldn't have any problems in the future, you're dead wrong. He already tied the knot, and he won't let you or anyone else untie it. Not in his books - he is going to take you home and sign all the required documents, so you'd have a hand on the property, and he already discusses how you'll give up on your job and become a full-time housewife for him. You thought it couldn't get worse, but the guy already calls you his darling, his dearest, and about three different pet names in German that you don't understand - but pretty sure it's something weird and perverted. Konig rolls over you again, his cock poking at your thigh. A newlywed high goes through your mind as he starts sucking on your neck again, renewing the hickeys already covering your soft skin. You ask if he is really serious about the whole wedding thing - and he says that once he saw you, he was certain that you will be worthy of his grandma's wedding ring. Jesus fucking christ...altough god isn't going to help you when your new husband is making you cum on his monster cock again.

[bogleech]

Every year I find myself defending the poor folks at the Crazy Bonez Halloween brand from all the internet haters who genuinely think they're dumb enough to "accidentally" make wrong skeletons. Maybe this kills the fun of the hyperbolic outrage for some, but it's really not the result of faceless clueless capitalism; most of the inaccurate Halloween skeletons, from the more outrageous Bone Octopuses to the subtler "birds with bone feathers" and "dogs with bone ears" are completely conscious artistic choices by one small team. I've talked to some of them! The idea that someone made a Bone Octopus Halloween Decoration out of actual ignorance is such a bizarre assumption to make, though. Yes, almost all adults do in fact know that cat skulls wouldn't have ears on them, and all adults definitely know that pumpkins don't have bones.

Many that you actually see on the market, however, are bootlegs or imitations of their designs. The real thing will usually say Crazy Bonez or Seasons on it, though Spirit Halloween is also a legit partner and gets some exclusive models every year. There are two new 2023 releases I'm super excited to review. Some of you already know what they are!

[acehazbin1]

‘I quite like the quiet.’

Paring: Emperor Caracalla x maid!reader

Warnings: no use of Y/n, ranting?

Just fluff/comfort maybe idk man 😭

Chapter two

……………

Caracalla smelt like wine, drugs and sex, things that most would think of when they thought of him. His tunic had little stains all down the bottom has the more intoxicated he got the more disoriented he became.

He was wandering around the palace halls, they echoed his footsteps as it was odd to see him by himself. He was constantly surrounded by concubines, senators, the Praetorian or even just his brother. But there he was in a green tunic decorated with golden designs ruined by stains just walking with a look of distain upon his face.

“What troubles you, Cesar?” a maid whispered out, she was young, on her knees and scrubbing a stain out of the floor. Caracalla looked down, the alcohol in his system made him ignore the fact such a low class was talking to him and responded. “My brother has been getting marriage letters sent to me every other day and I haven't got one… It's not fair.”

His hands gripped his tunic making creases. “Oh.” The maid responded she had overheard the senator talking about how marriage would help decrease wars. She leaned up a bit and asked, “Well have you tried to send out one?”

She knew it was a dumb question he wouldn't want to get married; he was probably just jealous of his brother getting all the attention all the time. His gaze fixated on the floor away from her, “I have…. They all rejected my offers.”

The maid gulped noticing it looked to be a sore topic, his hands gripping his tunic had a few bruises and his skin was painted has a few new scrapes that needed to be covered. She knew about his outbursts, what palace staff didn't? They weren't allowed to mention it at all for fear it might get out but she heard of stories of concubines been throwing out for simply looking at him wrong.

“Maybe they were already courting someone?” She added hopefully, his gaze returned to her, and his throat tightened a bit with frustration. “Women have ignored marriage proposals from different kings at a chance to maybe marry my brother.” His voice snapped angrily.

“And what do I get? Denied, ignored or asked to talk to my brother about them.” Her eyes widened at that, that level of disrespect towards an emperor and he wasn't even that bad. He continued on this rant, “Do they just know me as a bloodthirsty tyrant? What have they heard, who whispered lie after lie?” He ripped his hands off his tunic and ran them through his hair in an attempt to calm himself.

Caracalla looked at the maid as if she knew. She wasn't holding a sponge anymore instead on her knees leaning back as her hands were in front of her in case he tried to throw something in furry. “I haven't an idea, my emperor.”

He signed heavily, kept his hands in his hair slowly pulled his hair back as he moved them. “It's okay now, the Praetorians dealt with them accordingly.” He breathed out. Before she could catch up with her mouth, she had already spoken.

“How?”

His lips formed a smile, his hands now on the back of his neck tapped to keep himself from getting overly excited. “They disrespected an Emperor, the punishment fit their crime.” The maid felt like she was going to throw up, they were rude from what he was saying but imagine being killed for not wanting to marry someone?

She felt disgusted, why did he even need to get married anyway? He wasn't the one to care about peace, they already had enough money and he had concubines for any other matter. “Do you even want to get married?” She had to hide her disgust in her voice.

His smile dropped and his hands lowered as he took a step back leaning on his back leg. His face almost looked a bit… sheepish? “Well yes. It can get a little lonely in the palace.” the word palace was slurred, as she looked confused. “You have concubines?”

Caracalla rolled his eyes at that, “Concubines are paired well for their services but that's all they are there for. None of them cares enough to cuddle after or-” Caracalla stopped himself as his mind went over the things they wouldn't do with him.

Something pulled on her heartstrings, it was weird hearing the emperor want something so basic… so human and can't get it. “You want someone to care for you?” She said to fill in the silence. She earned a little nod from Caracalla.

They both went silent, it was night outside so it was just candlelight shining through the hall. No parties were on tonight just silence. Caracalla moved towards the wall a slid down beside her, she watched him do this. “I quite like the quiet.” She whispers to him.

She knew he couldn't agree, quiet would be an extract antonym for him. Yet he smiled gently at her, his eyes scanning her face. “Yes, it can be nice sometimes…” She nodded scanning his face in return as her hand touched off his, he looked down noticing the placement. “I hope you find a wife.” Her voice was caring something he hadn't heard since the death of his mother.

“Thank you.” It was a low whisper, but they sat there in comfortable silence with each other sometimes making comments. As the sun arose the guards found the Emperor sitting at a wall hunched over with his head on a maid's shoulder who's head landed on his. They both smelt like drink but no one dared to disturb the scene.

[lynaferns]

An overanalization of a 3 second clip of the Ruin DCA for drawing references.

The ruin trailer - slowed and brightened clip - my design idea before the trailer came out (<- I'm still sad about this) - Updated analysis

I loved doing the hand page :)

Now do whatever you want with this information I'm throwing at your faces.

If I find something new I'll update the post.

When the DLC comes out I'll probably do a character ref of the whole endo.

UPDATE MAY 28:

I've been reading people theorys and ideas.

I think the eyes simply has a LED ligth that alternates between yellow/white and red.

I don't think they could ever blink, if you take a look to the original pre-ruin design there is no space for eyelids.

I've seen people talk about their mouth moving. I personaly think that if their endo was supossed to have a moving mouth then, those teeth are actually holders for more polished teeth, and the mouth wouldn't open but the teeth would move to make it apear they are moving their mouth.

Those shadows behind the teeth, I toke a better look and I do think they are holes! There are some positions they don't make sense as shadows so it must be some kind of rack or grating, posibly for the voice box.

A few people have comented about the shock absorbers in the legs, I didn't thought about that, it makes so much sense.

UPDATE JULY 26 (after dlc release):

So, I got right that the teeth moved, just wrong with the direction lol, why do they move to the outside and in that wave animation?

Also, there are no holes behind the teeth, they were actual shadows (I still think that it would have been cool if they were holes that faintly illuminated when they talk)

The spring of the broken leg is hanging without the support of the foot, that's why it was so hard for me to figure out the shape in the trailer (I'll put screenshots when I get to the pc)

Moon's hat is missing the bell :(

And the eyes aren't completely broken like I thought, just very dirty.

[delulujuls]

thick thighs save lives (but ruin racing suits) | ln4, op81

hi! i got this idea from one tiktok i saw today. this one goes for my plus size girlies (including myself lmao) so please enjoy as much as papaya boys would enjoy some pair of thick thighs!

summary: lando and oscar never seen their friend with something tight on, so when it comes to try on new racing suits she have a big surprise for them

warnings: slightly disturbed perception of body image

pairing: oscar piastri x fem!mclarendriver x lando norris

Y/N sometimes forgot that she was a girl.

At the beginning of her career she tried to make an effort to look good, showing that a male-dominated sport wouldn't take away her feminine grace. Years ago she used to wake up early, style her hair, do makeup and spend a lot of money on fixing cosmetics but unfortunately everything was lost due to sweat, a balaclava and a tight helmet. So the girl decided that this fight made absolutely no sense - she decided to stuck only to lip balm and mascara.

Despite keeping her makeup to a minimum, even her mascara remained treacherous, smearing under her eyes after each race or training session, making her look like a panda. In terms of clothes, the girl didn't have much opportunity to show off either. Her clothes were largely either team tracksuits, a racing suit, or just a baggy orange T-shirt and jeans.

And just as Oscar and Lando looked great after the race despite sweat and messy hair, her post-race glow didn't really existed. On the contrary, she looked as if she had a hard, sleepless night.

It is known that when media days fell on the calendar, the girl tried to look her best. She had light make-up and nicely styled hair, but her body was still covered by loose layers of clothes. It would seem that apart from her physiotherapist and the team doctor, no one around her had any idea what kind of figure the girl really had.

However, everything changed when the break between seasons came. When places had numerous galas and events and you could throw away uncomfortable helmets and team clothes. However, as we know, everything comes to an end at some point and we have to return to the gray reality. This was the case, when the day came and it was time to try on new racing suits for the upcoming season.

Y/N hugged Lando and Oscar upon seeing them outside the entrance to McLaren's headquarters. The trio hadn't had the opportunity to see each other for several weeks, so there was a lot of joy. In a good mood, surrounded by conversation, they went inside and immediately went to the designated place. After a short presentation of costumes, everyone received theirs and went to change, only to come back after a while and report any reservations regarding comfort and range of movement. Y/N took her suit without thinking and went to change. She was surprised when the suit got stuck on her butt and refused to go up any higher.

"What the hell"

The girl muttered under her breath, gripping her fit tighter and jumping in it several times. When it finally slid over her ass, Y/N slipped her hands into the sleeves and zipped up the zipper, sealing the Velcro around her neck. Something was definitely wrong. The girl looked in the mirror at her reflection. The outfit was great and looked amazing, the only problem was that it was a bit tight. Which shouldn't be the case, because the outfits were based on last season's, so the dimensions shouldn't differ drastically. It was impossible to gain so much weight in three months, right?

The girl turned around, looking at the back of her body. The outfit was definitely tight. Just as it was still relatively tight on her chest, it was very tight on her thighs and butt.

Y/N covered her mouth with her hand, looking at her reflection. Have she really always had such big thighs? Did she actually gain weight during the past break?

She was brought out of her thoughts by a knock on the bathroom and the voices of Lando and Oscar outside the door.

"Are you ready?"

The girl felt her cheeks burning with shame.

"I think I have a problem"

Hearing this, the friends fell silent and looked at each other.

"Can we come in?"

Y/N agreed quietly, still staring at herself in the mirror. With each passing second, she became more and more confused about her reflection.

Oscar and Lando entered the bathroom, also wearing their suits. When they noticed their friend standing with her back to them, the first thing they noticed was her butt. Lando quickly looked up at the ceiling and Oscar walked over to the girl, trying his hardest to focus on the reflection of her face in the mirror.

"What happened?"

Y/N bit her lip in shame and silently turned towards them. Her friends involuntarily looked at her, pretending they didn't know what she meant. But as soon as they saw the material tight around her ass from the entrance to the bathroom, they knew exactly what the matter was about.

"My suit is too tight" The girl said quietly, looking at herself "It doesn't fit at all"

Lando wrapped his arms around himself and covered his mouth with his hand. He tried his hardest not to speak, because all he could think about were comments about her thighs and whether she could crush him with them. It didn't get much easier for Oscar. He put his hands on his hips and looked at his friend silently. He was afraid that he would be unable to comfort her in any way, because his mind was completely blank.

Piastri cleared his throat after a while, trying to return from the land of fantasy and behave as if the whole situation was really dramatic.

"Is it very tight?"

"Oh, just look!"

The girl spread her arms and spun around. Lando bit his lip and tilted his head back. Oscar held his breath, having no idea what to say. He was totally mesmerized by her curves.

"I- Uhm, I think it's just a mistake and they'll make you a different one without any problem."

"Different one?" Y/N asked, feeling tears in her eyes. “What if it's not a mistake and I've gained weight these past few months?”

"After all, the tests showed that everything was fine with your measurements."

Oscar said calmly.

Y/N turned to the mirror again and looked at her reflection.

"What a total shit"

"Hey, don't say that" Lando was immediately outraged "You look great"

"Great?" The girl snorted, "Come on, I look ridiculous."

"To be honest, I agree with Lando one hundred percent."

Oscar replied, looking once more at the back of the girl's body.

"My thighs are a disaster! What kind of racing driver has such big thighs?"

The girl burst out, turning again towards them.

"Max has nice thighs," Lando pointed out, thinking for a moment, "I'm sure his thighs are the national pride of the Netherlands."

Y/N wasn't in the mood to joke. Devastated, she looked down her body.

Oscar walked up to her and hugged her without saying a word.

"You look beautiful. And you have a really amazing figure"

Lando walked over to his friends and hugged them as well.

The girl felt a little better with the support of her friends. However, for a moment she forgot that men would be men and nothing would ever dissuade them from having dirty thoughts.

"I agree with Oscar, because you really look great," Lando started. Oscar looked at him, knowing full well what was coming and knowing that he wouldn't be able to stop it. "But with all the respect I have for you as a friend and as a woman in general, holy shit, I would pay extra for you to strangle me with your thighs. And man, that mad bunda, too."

Y/N didn't know what to say for a moment. She only felt a blush creeping onto her cheeks. Did she just receive the strangest compliment of her life?

She freed herself a little from her friends' embrace and looked at Lando's face.

"Seriously?"

He seeing that his comment was not received negatively, quickly nodded.

"You have such a body that-" "Lando meant that you shouldn't worry about what you look like because you look really great."

Oscar interjected, knowing full well that Lando's comments should be kept to himself.

The girl smiled weakly and sniffled. Her friends' words lifted her spirits a bit.

"My only concern now is how I will get this contraption off of me."

Lando and Oscar smirked, involuntarily exchanging glances.

"I think we can help you with that."

[amazinglyashy]

My love, put Aphrodite to shame.

Read on Ao3 Pairings: Rafayel x Reader Summary: Trying to help Rafayel by posing in lingerie for him for his next work, things take a turn for the hot and heady. Maybe you should try nude modelling instead? Either way, his painting won't be finished until he is first- Tags: N/SFW, Unprotected, P in V, BJs, Vanilla Notes: Paint me like one of your Lemurian girls ∠( ᐛ 」∠)＿ Wordcount: 3,808

"Like this?" You ask, moving just slightly, per Rafayel's earlier instructions. You had been pulled into posing for him, a long day of him begging you to be his muse for his latest work had cumulated into you standing barefoot on the marble at MoArt studio, trying your best to model for someone with such high expectations, you had seen Thomas tug at his own hair repeatedly in the past. 

So far, that hadn't been the case tonight.

The first glimpses of moonlight filter through the faint breath of lace that curtained the windows of Rafayel's studio, casting a faint blue haze throughout the room and tinting everything it touched with a silver glow. You stood a moment away, centered in the room and rays of the moon's glow in white lingerie. It hugged the swell of your hips delicately, the lace designs floral, with the straps of the set etched with the smallest pearls. The rest of the fabric is sheer, with the flowers covering anything more seductive than just your normal flesh.

You were dressed intoxicatedly sensual, the straps of your panties placed high on your hips, your chest filling the matching bra beautifully. If a goddess came down from the heavens tonight and stood in a room with you and a varied audience, they wouldn't be able to tell the difference between the mere mortal and the divine.

And that had been the goal- the idea having plagued the deepest corners of Rafayel's mind for the last week and a half. The potently sensual image of you before him was everything he had imagined in a possible muse, every bit of perfect he had always known you to be.

"That's it..." He breathed. "Raise your head, cutie, just slightly. Yeah, just like that."

You raised your chin, your head now held high under both his gaze and the dim light of the moon. He had lit some candles as well, but made sure that they were peppered throughout the room at a distance, wanting the slight dots of warmth to not overpower the vision he had created in his mind.

He concentrated, his brush gliding down the canvas in long strokes as he began to put the beginning colors down. He didn't want you standing forever, but he needed you there long enough to capture the image in his mind. At the very least, until it was time to focus on the more important details and additions.

You could feel the warmth in your cheeks grow. This wasn't the first time he had painted you, but it was definitely the first time it was being done so seriously. You were used to charcoal on paper, etching the most prominent features of your face that Rafayel admired. You were used to broken down figure sketches, the most basic shapes making the outline of your body as you sat on his lounge and read a report.

This was... new.

It wasn't bad though, you hoped he wouldn't get you wrong if he asked you. You were enjoying yourself, albeit you were a bit chilly, standing in just a lingerie set near the open windows. The breeze kept wafting in, and being so close to the seaside meant the evening air was particularly biting. Goosebumps ghosted over the skin of your arms, as you tried to keep the blush that was forming across your cheeks at bay.

"Step just slightly closer, cutie." He murmured, and you moved barely a step towards him and the canvas, his gaze scrutinizing as he decided whether or not it was what he was looking for. His fingers flickered, beckoning you forward another step. You obliged, your heart pounding.

The extra step had brought you within an arm's reach of Rafayel and his easel, and it felt like the cool chill of the night was melting away the closer you got to him. The goosebumps remained, however, for a different reason. You were close enough that you could smell the remnants of the cologne he had applied this morning, mixed with the salt of the air surrounding you.

His eyes flickered away from the canvas to glance at you, and you ducked your gaze on impulse. He tried to keep the twitch of a smirk from appearing on his lips, but he couldn't help it. His eyes roamed over you, drinking in the person before him and the beauty that she had to offer him. He had been right in buying you that specific set- it fit you like a glove, and the way it hugged even the slightest curve on your body was enough to make his heartbeat quicken in the depths of his chest.

He couldn't help it. "Perfect," he whispered, moving to slowly set his brush aside, reaching out to gently cup your cheek. "That's absolutely perfect."

"I aim to please."

But you knew he wasn't talking about the pose anymore- about anything pertaining to his painting. His thumb moved to brush delicately over your lower lip, tracing the soft skin as his eyes remained glued to your mouth. You wished something else would be glued to your mouth instead, the heat in your stomach starting to bubble.

As if hearing your silent wish, Rafayel leaned down slowly- carefully. His lips met yours in a tender and lingering kiss. You held yourself back from deepening it, from forcing it further no matter how much need was beginning to pile up within your heart and heat. Your nose tickled instead, a strand of his hair falling forward between the two of you, and you did your best to remember to breathe.

Forgetting the pose, your hand moves to rest on his forearm, your fingers finding his skin under the linen sleeve of his shirt. You want nothing more than to remove it from him- the image of your fingers undoing the pearlescent buttons at a painfully slow speed meant to entice and tease the man below you playing over and over in your head. But you resisted, instead enjoying the feeling of his other hand lifting to rest on your other cheek, holding your face as he himself can't resist deepening the kiss.

His hands tightened their hold, thumbs brushing across the crest of your cheekbones as he moved you to angle your head to intensify the kiss even more. His tongue traced along the seam of your lips, coaxing them to move apart and allow him inside. You happily obliged, your tongue dancing with his own as you tried to hold back the moan that had formed at the back of your throat.

After a moment, he pulled back suddenly, the both of you panting. Rafayel's eyes were dark, filled with lust as they glowed faintly a bright pink in the dimness of the room you were standing in. "I think..." He breaks the silence, his voice low, husky- "I need to study my subject. Just... Just a bit more-"

You nod, and his left hand drops, tracing the hem of your panties with a finger, teasing at the lingerie as his touch sends a shiver down your spine as goosebumps form across the tops of your arms again. You press your body into him, nuzzling against the crook of his neck like an invitation, a wordless affirmation at everything he was doing to you- at everything he wanted to do to you.

You can hear his breath hitch at the contact, and you can only imagine that his heart is racing just as much as yours is. But now the both of his hands are on your waist, and he's pushing back into you like there is still somehow too much distance between the two of you.

And then he starts to grind his hips against you, and you can feel his arousal all too well against the soft of your skin. He's craving the friction, needing the pressure against his sex, as he dips his head to graze his teeth over the sensitive skin of your neck. He kisses a line down the side, surely leaving marks with a few of them as he makes his way down towards your chest.

"What do you want, cutie?" He whispers against the ridge of your collarbone, and the heat of his breath is enough to make you keel over then and there. You take in a ragged breath instead, your own hands moving to drag up and under the shirt on his back

"I want you."

And that's not even the truth spilling from your mouth, the self-correction balancing on the edge of your lips as you try and breathe under the heat of Rafayel's gaze. Try to tell right from left, and up from down, when your head is spinning out of control with desire.

"I need you." It teeters off your lips, and the glint in his eyes- they were always so gorgeous, the way they glowed pink whenever he was deeply aroused- could practically be described as animalistic at your words.

His hands move upward from where they rested on your waist, toying with the clasp of your bra. A soft moan escapes you, and that's all the affirmation he needs to continue.

And then the lace is falling loose around you, the cups of your bra slipping downwards to fall to the floor between you. Rafayel's hand immediately seize the flesh of your bare breasts, squeezing them gently as he lets his thumbs trail over the hardened buds of your nipples.

You can't help the soft moan that escapes your lips, the build up to the touch only having made you more sensitive to his ministrations now that they were truly beginning. His index and thumb pinches each nipple lightly, and you swear you could melt into a puddle on the floor in front of him then and there from his hands alone.

"So beautiful," he murmurs huskily, leaning down to place open-mouthed kisses across the swell of your breasts, his hands still hard at work to make your brain incapable of any coherent thought. "So beautiful, and just for me."

Your hands find the belt loops of his waistband, and then you're undoing the clasp of metal and leather as quickly as your shaking hands can manage. You need him. You need him, you need him, you need him, and it's taking everything in you to unbutton his pants and pull the zipper down as his assault on your chest has turned into him suckling delicately at one of your nipples. His tongue swirling over the sensitive bud was enough to make you tremble, your pussy throbbing at the thought of his attention diverting even lower, to where you wanted him the most.

You can feel him shudder as your fingers brush over the bulge in his pants as you work, but the attention he has on your breasts doesn't stop. He's alternating between flicking his tongue over the tips of your nipples, and sucking at them until your body is arching into him unconsciously. His hands explore your body, and the tangle of you two make movements difficult, but you manage to finally unfasten his pants completely.

And then you're pulling away from him- sinking to your knees in front of him before he can question your withdrawal with more than the whimper that had already escaped the back of his throat, sending a jolt of heat to where you needed him the most. You kept your resolve, though, glancing up at him as you tug at the waistband of his boxers, allowing his cock to spring free.

Already as hard as it could possibly get, you can see the precum glistening the tip even in the dim lighting of the studio. You don't waste any time, leaning forward to brush the tip of your tongue across it, savoring his flavor as he lets out a breathy moan at the feeling.

Encouraged, you let out the slightest chuckle, wrapping your hand at the base of his cock and giving it a few lazy pumps. Slowly, almost painfully, placing his cock in your mouth and giving it a few gentle suckles, whimpering happily just slightly at the taste on your tongue.

Rafayel releases a sharp gasp, your warm mouth enveloping his length blissfully well. He can't help his hand as it reflexively tangles into your hair, guiding your head gently further down his cock. He moans when he glances down, your lips stretched beautifully around his girth, the view and the feeling both equally maddening in his mind.

You bob your head up, never the most experienced at giving blow jobs, but a master of eliciting the most amazing noises from your Lemurian. You can feel him throb in your throat, shallowly thrusting into you with more restraint than you could believe he was capable of. Especially with the sight of you down on your knees, still wearing the slightest bit of the lingerie he had been practically dreaming of you wearing ever since he had purchased the set.

You push yourself, dipping your head down painfully as you take him as deeply as you possibly could. You can feel your eyes burning as the tears begin to form at the same time you feel his balls brush against your chin. He lets out a low, guttural groan- his fingers gripping through your hair as he loses himself to the pleasure of your throat.

You pull yourself off of him, and the lewd noise of his dick leaving your throat competes with the image of the string of saliva still connecting you to him as you look up at him for what will make him even hornier. He wishes he could save the image before him somewhere forever, but he settles for moving to unbutton his shirt and reach down to help you up to your feet, carefully, but desperately.

You're barely to your feet before his lips are crashing into yours all over again, as if desperate to drink the remaining saliva and the taste of himself from your lips. The pressure causes you to stumble backward, his hands finding your waist again as he keeps you upright. He keeps you walking rapidly backward until you can feel the backs of your legs hit the cool leather edge of his couch. You let him continue forward, laying you down as he climbs on top of you, finally breaking the kiss and leaving the both of your breathing heavy and coming out in pants.

He leans down, pressing his forehead against yours, and you can see the red painting his face even in the dark of the room. From the heat you feel in your cheeks, you know he can probably see your blush as well. You're not really sure what to say. You want to say how gorgeous he looked standing over you, just how amazing he looks over you right now-

"Hey..." You breathe, and you can feel your blush deepen as he lets out a chuckle at your greeting.

"Hey there, gorgeous." He whispers, his breath hot on your face from how close he's hovering over your. You reach out to brush a hand across his cheek, and you can see the pink in his eyes intensify from your touches.

"You're so incredible, cutie..." He murmurs. "I'm going to take such good care of you. Promise."

As if trying to prove his own words, Rafayel begins to pepper kisses down your body- starting from the crook of your neck, down your chest as he pauses only to suckle on the curves of your breasts one more time. Your stomach shudders as his lips make contact with the sensitive skin there, almost distracting you fully from his thumbs hooking through the bands of the panties you were still miraculously wearing.

He pulls downward, exposing your heat to the cool air of the room, the goosebumps returning to coat your arms and legs at the shift in temperature. You can see Rafayel smirk at your little shivers.

"Don't worry, cutie." He breathes, shifting himself lower as his cock comes down to rest across your pussy and stomach. "I'll make sure to warm you up."

Your breath hitches at the back of your throat, seeing his size against you. You've taken him plenty of times before, but it was always incredible seeing the size difference, wondering how he always managed to fit inside of you so perfectly, every single time.

You don't have to wonder much though, given the probing feeling of his dick at you entrance sending shockwaves of anticipation throughout your body as he readies himself to enter you.

Taking a moment to tease you, he moves his cock against your folds, coating himself in the wetness of your arousal. Each pass he makes make you buck gently against him, desperate for more of him- desperate for more him inside of you. He smirks, knowing exactly what you're looking for, but forever a tease.

"I love seeing you like this, cutie. So beautiful for me." He mutters, drinking in the lustful expression painted across your face, full of want, full of need. Full of need for him. "I want to worship every single inch of you."

And finally- slowly, tortuously- he begins to push forward into you, the thick head of his cock finally breaching the folds of your pussy into your insides. A low groan escapes his lips, drawn out from the tightness engulfing him. He inches forward inch by agonizing inch as you let out a moan of your own, adjusting to his size beautifully like you always did, his hands caressing your thighs soothingly as he finally bottoms out inside of you.

You let out a small gasp at his size when he stops moving, trying to remember how to breathe, but the fullness is too perfect. His hand runs up from your left thigh to rest against your side, just over your ribs, encouraging you to take another breath. He feels incredible inside of you- he always does. Every single time. As if he was made for you, shaped perfectly to fit you.

His hands move to your hips, gripping you gently as he finally starts to move within you. Rafayel starts out slow- deliberate, savoring the feeling of being buried deep inside of you. He watches your expression melt into delicious pleasure, aiming as best as he can for the right spots within your walls.

"Oh, cutie... you feel amazing, wrapped around my cock." He breathes, punctuating himself by beginning to thrust harder into you. He can feel you clenching around him erratically, already close to the edge yourself from his earlier ministrations and the sensuality fogging the air all evening. He changes his angle slightly, aiming for the best spot inside of you- the one that makes stars dance into your vision. From the sounds you're making, he knows it's not much longer for you- Fuck, it's not much longer for himself either. Not with what you're body is doing to him.

He continues, setting a relentless pace, each thrust hitting that perfect spot deep inside of you. You swear your vision is going to turn white from the pleasure, and your walls squeeze him sporadically in turn, working his own orgasm to the ledge of release.

Rafayel leans down suddenly, capturing your lips in rough kiss and swallowing your moans as his tongue explores your mouth again. One of his hands moves from your hip, reaching between your bodies to find your clit and rub. His thumb circling the sensitive spot as he pulls away from the kiss, panting as he watches you start to fall apart from his cock and fingers.

"Ah!" You choke, the sounds of your pleasure catching in the back of your throat with every single brutal thrust. "Yes, yes- Rafayel!"

"That's it, let go for me-" He urges, his breathing becoming more shallow himself as he inches closer to the brink. He can feel it, and his determination for the both of you to release together fuels his hips into snapping harder into you. "Yes cutie- Cum for me. Cum for me, my love."

The gasp in his voice, strained from his own tension, mixed with his fingers abusing your clit as he pounds you into the couch cushions- It's all too much. The final thread you were hanging onto finally snaps, and you can feel your body spasm and arc as your orgasm rips through you, blinding your vision for just a moment as your pussy clenches around Rafayel's cock.

His release is right behind yours- a few more thrusts powered by animalistic need, and he's burying himself to the hilt inside of you. Cumming and spilling deep within you as your tight cunt milks him dry as you ride out your high.

You can feel him shaking against you, the pleasure of his own climax rippling through him as he lets his weight down on top of you, just for a moment. You welcome the pressure, running your tired hands up and down his back slowly as you try and calm his heart rate down. He responds to your touch but nuzzling his face into the crook of your neck, placing kisses on the skin in between his deep breathing.

"Geez, cutie. That was incredible."

His breathing is heavy and you can still feel his heart racing against you despite your touch. He lifts his head to gaze at you, his expression dazed, but a satisfied smile plays on his lips. He brushes a strand of your hair away from the sweat on your brow, before placing a kiss where it had been. You flash him a smug, exhausted grin of your own. "I'll always be the best at bringing you to your knees." 

Rafayel laughs, moving off of you to lie next to you, pulling you closely against his chest from the limited space the couch provided the two of you. That, and he just wanted to have you in his arms. He peppers kisses on you cheek, enough to make you giggle and try and push him away, but your motions lack any bite, and not just because you're tired from the session the two of you just had.

They feel quite nice.

"I don't think I was the one on my knees." 

"Physically, sure. But mentally?" You giggled, and he smiles down at you. "You're down bad for me." 

He doesn't respond immediately, instead just... looking down at you. That goofy smile still spread across his lips. There's something else, painted in his eyes. You see it often, whenever he looks at you, and you're not sure there's a word that exists that can describe it. But you know that you feel the same way whenever you look at him. 

"Absolutely cutie." He responds, finally.

"Absolutely."

[aaagustd]

make it cute | jjk (m)

title: make it cute pairing: jeon jungkook x (f)reader genre/rating: smut, pwp, 18+ summary: if jungkook loans someone money, he expects to be paid with just that. but tonight, he just might make an exception. wc: 1.8k warnings: infidelity, swearing, mentions ransoms and everything that comes with that (threats, m*rder, etc), pictures??, consensual g*n play (more like oral but yeah), sloppy bl*wjob/deep throating, consent bc it's sexy, pet names, degradation, m*sturbation, facial c*m shot, dirty talk, slight power play dynamics, Dom/sub themes, obedience kink, hair pulling, face f*cking, that should be all release date: september 21st, 2024; 10:18pm est

note: reposting this baby. it’s from the old aaagustd account. i hope y’all enjoy the new version. divider credit.

check out my taglists here.

"That’s it. Keep going until I tell you to stop."

Jungkook can feel the material of his pants stretching to accommodate the growing boner pressing against the fabric. One wrong jerk of his hips, and he fears the measly button and zipper securing his trousers will go flying across his lavishly decored master bedroom.

He’s done some sick shit in his life, but this. This was your idea.

If only he could hear how you begged for it.

"Damn, baby, You are dead-ass enjoying this, aren't you?"

You don’t have to respond, but you do. "M-Mhm," you exhale in a needy moan as your throat engulfs the barrel of his gun.

There’s no way you can deny what is visibly present in both your eyes. 

The way your middle finger teases your soaked cunt. Your erected nipples leave two perfectly sculpted peaks that he can see through your sheer top.

He can't lie; he’s impressed and turned on by the sight. 

However, the reason you’re on your knees on his bedroom floor isn’t because he had a taste for a bored housewife. Your darling husband owes him a lot of money, and he will pay it if he wants his little trophy home by dinner.

Otherwise, Jungkook will gladly keep you—if you can behave.

With an ass like yours, Jungkook wouldn't let you out of his sight. Your place would be right on his lap, no matter the time or the place.

You have to keep a tight leash on this kind of pussy. The man’s an idiot. 

A woman as beautiful as you begging to be fucked? He’s not a nice guy, but how could he not show pity?

Jungkook can only stand there and imagine how your plump lips would look wrapped around his dick. The thought of it has him twitching inside his boxers.

As if you are reading his mind, your sticky digits abandon your wet panties and you place them on his designer-covered crotch. A sharp hiss pushes through his clenched teeth, biting back a slew of insults that could imply that he’s angry. Not in the slightest, he was just shaken by the sensitivity.

Staring into the desperation lingering deep in your irises, Jungkook knows what you’re asking for. Your mouth is filled to the brim, but you’re still begging for more.

Jungkook isn’t a gentleman, but he’s mindful of his strength when he grips your hair, snatching you away from his gun. He should have been cautious of your teeth, but you won’t need them anyway for what you’re about to do.

“Hey!” He watches your swollen lips part as you suddenly take in a large breath of air. Your lungs struggle to accommodate the pressure, leaving you coughing and choking for several seconds. The sound nearly drowns out his voice. “Look at me, dollface!”

Jungkook stares into your watery blown-out eyes, holding an intense gaze to make sure you understand him clearly. He realizes then that he has a problem on his hands.

Sexy and obedient. Fuck.

"Doll, you can get up if you want. I just want my money-"

"Fuck my throat."

Jungkook almost shudders when he hears your sweet voice. The lust hidden within that raspy tone is intoxicating.

"What?" he asks.

He heard you, though. Jungkook never misses a beat, but he’s just—stunned.

Clearing your throat, you repeat your request without an ounce of shame.

"My throat. Shove it down my throat, please."

Please.

You didn't have to add that last part. He was already preparing to take his dick out.

"Well, shit," he curses. “Are you sure?”

“Yes, I am.”

Jungkook quickly places his gun on the dresser behind him and unbuckles his belt. He steals glances at you waiting patiently on your knees—like a good little slut. 

It’s goddamn shame how you have him fidgeting like a virgin.

Once his pants are loosened enough to slip a hand in and pull down his boxers, his cock springs out and introduces itself. Your reaction leaves a prideful smirk spreading across his face. Whatever you were expecting he knows that has been exceeded.

"Bit off more than you can chew, huh?"

You appear to be offended by his assumption. At least that’s what your expression reads. "Not at all," you reply, straightening your posture to align with his midsection. "May I?"

With Jungkook’s permission, you make contact with his length by grasping it gently in your smooth hand. Your fingers wrap around his girth as your eyes size him up.

Stroking him lazily in your warm palm, you admire his protruding veins that run along his length. You pause at the reddened tip, tapping the pool of precum that has developed at his slit. Your tongue licks your lips as if you’re sitting before a feast.

He understands it’s probably been forever since you’ve been in the presence of someone his size, but he’s impatient. You’ll have to do this another time.

"Don't fuck around, alright? I still got a bullet with your name on it, dollface."

You heed his warning and move closer, determining the best method of swallowing him whole.

"Sorry," you say in a whisper.

Those manners of yours will take you places; if you play your cards right.

"It’s no sweat, beautiful. Just keep going."

It's probably the first time he's said something as sincere; but honestly, he's just trying to get gobbled up before he cums all over his freshly waxed floors. His men are probably wondering what the hell is taking so long. For all they know, you’re using his bathroom to clean yourself up from the bumpy ride you had in the trunk of their car.

Without warning, Jungkook’s dick is sucked into your heavenly mouth. The warm and wetness invite him in without hesitation, comforting his throbbing length like a compress. He struggles to maintain his composure.

He isn't sure if he should allow you to take over because he cannot move. He couldn’t thrust if he wanted to. He’s mentally and physically stuck. The way you're slurping him up…he might not even be able to walk after this.

"Easy," Jungkook warns, which causes you to raise an eyebrow.

Finally, a bit of cockiness breaks through the surface.

Jungkook has no choice but to pull himself together and find his bearings because he’d die before boosting your ego.

"Fine," he grunts. "I can play rough too."

His hands snake their way to the back of your head, granting him full control. Your dark eyes never tear away from his face as he harshly uses his grip to push your head into his swift thrusts. You start to gag and choke, dropping saliva all over his cock and the floor. Something that would usually piss him off—but tonight, he can’t find an ounce of care.

It's not like he has to clean it up.

"Goddamn. Who's training this throat, hm?" He buries himself in your throat, making your forehead collide with his pelvic area. "Can’t be your hubby?"

When he hears a gurgled moan, he pulls away and allows you to speak. Through labored pants, you huff out your response. It’s one he's sure you've never shared with your husband.

"I'll suck that bastard dry every night before I let him cum inside me."

Jungkook nods. "Smart woman."

However, your business has nothing to do with him. Right now, he needs your undivided attention.

"Come here," he demands.

Jungkook hopes you were able to take in a breath before he lets go of his self-control.

You two had a deal, and he will uphold his part as you are yours. You’ve complied and given him some of the best head he’s ever received. Now, it’s time for the real show.

It’s been a month since he loaned your spouse some money; it’s time to pay up. To remind him of that, he’ll send your husband some face shots of his beautiful wife.

Jungkook will get his payment—one way, or another.

"Fuck!"

His body tenses now that he’s hitting the back of your throat. No matter how deep he goes, you never run out of space. The sweat rolling down his face is ignored because he’s too focused on how good your mouth feels around him.

Your warmth has him hunched over and leaning on his toes, his mouth stuck in an O-shape as he comes dangerously close to release. As he moves in and out of your crevice, he catches a glimpse of your juicy cunt being filled with your fingers, your body squirming and seeking the same relief he's chasing.

Both of your moans fill the room as you reach the peak of your highs. Your eyes roll back as your body becomes stiff. Jungkook knows exactly what's going on with you, and as you're riding out the waves of your orgasm, he waits for the perfect moment to pull out and paint you with his seed.

The time comes when you're no longer able to control your breathing, and you're desperately looking for a source of air. It's not a second too soon because Jungkook cannot bear another deep dive into your wet hole.

He slips out and gives his boner a couple of quick strokes before ropes of his cum paint your pretty face. The sounds you make indicate just how pleased you are with the results of your messy blowjob.

…And messy it is indeed.

It's everywhere, but he kept his promise and didn't get any in your hair.

"Ready?" Jungkook asks, still trying to catch his breath.

"Yeah."

Jungkook pulls his phone out of his back pocket and finds his camera. He positions it directly in front of your face. Your exhausted eyes and fucked out expression brings him some amusement. A contrast of how he felt before meeting you. 

"Is my hair okay?" you ask him, and this time he actually has to chuckle.

Since you've made his night a little better, he does a quick job smoothing down flyaways and kinks. 

Honestly, he didn't have to because you already look hot. Your hair all messy with his load dumped all over your face. All while adorned in an expensive diamond necklace your husband bought you—probably with his money.

Before he gets angry, he instructs you to look at the camera.

You pose provocatively as he takes a few pictures, giving your best doe-eyed pout.  When he’s done, he finally guides you to the bathroom. He allows you to use his shower or whatever else you’d need to clean up. 

Jungkook then lets you know that you may take as long as you need to freshen up while he sits on the bed to make this official.

He searches his contacts for the correct number. A mischievous grin slowly forms on his face as he taps the latest images in his camera roll, sending his debtor a little message to stir the pot.

03:14 am Sent: img.788, img.789....

03:14 am Sent: at the crib fucking your bitch. bring my bread and i might give her back.

He's lying. You’re staying right here.

Or…you can join your husband, in the cozy six-foot bed his men dug up for him in the woods.

[girlgenius1111]

someone who loves you wouldn't do this

the fourth and final chapter of family line solstråle faces some more challenges and makes some important decisions. angst. like angst... but then fluff :) cw: more of the same... poor mental health on sol's part.

it must be said that this chapter would be absolutely NOTHING compared to what it is now without @wileys-russo. for every comment you leave on this, YOU BEST leave bailey something telling her thank you, too :)

------

“Solstråle… that is just… wood. Your bed would just be on some wooden slats on the ground.” 

You beamed at your sister. “I KNOW. It’s so cool. It’s like camping. But with a comfy mattress, and it’s oversized, so I don't need a nightstand, it’s like a built-in shelf! It'll go so well with my new map because the wood is the same as the frame and…” 

Ingrid didn’t need to hear your reasoning; the excitement on your face was more than enough for her. She would have bought you anything, no matter how hideous, just to keep seeing this joy on your face. This alleged bed frame wasn’t even that bad; it was woodsy and earthy and the precise thing you loved. 

The bed frame was the final thing you’d needed. Ingrid had come in with a gameplan, because of course she had, and you had systematically made your way through the store. 

You’d seemed unsure at first, and very hesitant to really pick anything out. Mapi, meanwhile, was too excited to see that she was overwhelming you. After the 8th time you’d said the words, “I don’t know, do you like it?” your sister knew she had to step in. 

Mapi was busy talking your ear off. “OOO what about this dresser? With the matching mirror? Or we could get the other mirror with this dresser and paint the wood framing so it would match. Or we could get-”

Ingrid cut her off. “María, darling, I love you, but take a breath.” You watched amused as Mapi literally took a deep breath at Ingrid’s instruction. “Okay, now go pick out a couple new mugs over there and then come back.” 

Mapi nodded enthusiastically, bounding off towards the mugs. “Do not run, María Pilar!” Ingrid shouted after her, smiling to herself when Mapi slowed down to an awkward shuffle. 

Your sister turned to you then, a sympathetic look on her face as you regarded her cautiously. 

“Which dresser do you want?” 

“I don’t-” 

“No. Which dresser do you want?” Ingrid insisted. 

You shrugged, looking away from your sister, and inexplicably starting to tear up. You didn't want to pick the wrong thing, and you didn’t want to make anyone buy anything for you. 

The brunette put her hands on your shoulders, looking down at you insistently. “Listen, Solstråle. I want you to have a space that is yours, with things you pick, and things you like. Let me do this for you? Please?” 

You sighed, nodding slowly. “I like that one.” You said softly, pointing at one of the dressers Mapi hadn’t even glanced at. 

“Good.” Ingrid said. “MARÍA, come here.” 

Mapi returned like a puppy being called back to its owner, with a single mug in her hands. Ingrid had been about to scold her, and tell her to stop hijacking your shopping trip, when Mapi handed out the mug towards you. You took it into your hands, turning it around until the design was facing you. 

It was a ceramic mug, painted with a minimalist map of Spain. There was only one marking on the map, signifying Barcelona. It was a little sun, right on the coast, marking your new home. 

“Get it? It’s a map. Like the one I got you. And it has a sun. Mapi and Solstråle. Un mapa y el sol.” She joked, clearly thinking you’d laugh, and put the mug back, as it wasn’t normally the sort of thing you’d like. 

You grinned at her, though, looking between the Spaniard and your sister, who also had a big smile on her face. “Can I get it?” You asked. 

Mapi looked surprised, but Ingrid just kept smiling, knowing instantly that the silly mug meant something because Mapi had seen it, and thought of you. “Of course. María, she picked out a dresser.” 

“Which one?” Mapi asked, looking around excitedly. 

You’d laughed, shaking your head, and pointing at the one you wanted. Ingrid was a little worried Mapi would jokingly complain that you hadn’t picked one of the ones’ she’d pointed out, and inadvertently make you feel guilty, but Mapi just nodded enthusiastically. 

“Oh I didn’t see that one! Good call pequeña!” 

You’d looked relieved, Ingrid felt relieved, and Mapi was just happy to be there.

-------

You couldn’t sleep. It felt dumb, laying in your new bed, in your redecorated room, but your mind just wouldn’t turn off. You’d spent the day with Ingrid and Mapi, and they’d done everything right. Everything. Your room felt like your room, now, not just the guest room. Their home felt like your home. 

And yet. You were still empty. It wasn’t enough. You weren’t convinced. It didn’t make any fucking sense, because they’d gone out of their way, over and over, to show you that they loved you. That seemed like something that couldn’t be reality, though. You weren’t… loveable. How could you be? You were just you. And that had never been enough, no matter how badly you wanted it to be. 

You couldn’t stand laying in bed any longer. It was too soft, too comfortable. It felt too safe, like everything was about to be ripped away from you. The living room was safer. It was so viscerally Ingrid and Mapi’s space. You didn’t have anything to lose down here. 

You turned the TV on, appreciating the array of Norwegian options Ingrid was subscribed to, and put on a mindless one. You sat and watched, and tried not to think. You weren’t very successful if the way you jumped when the couch moved next to you was any indication. 

“Can’t sleep?” Mapi asked, tucking herself under the blanket you were using. 

“Nope.” 

“Thinking about how much better you’d sleep in that race car bed we saw? That’s why I'm up.” Mapi replied wistfully, causing you to crack a smile. 

“Something like that.” You replied softly. The defender studied you for a moment, before throwing an arm around your shoulder, contact you leaned into, almost on instinct. 

A scene came on in the drama that was playing, one which took place in a tattoo shop. Mapi perked up, and you saw an opening to change the subject before your mood could be questioned. 

“How old were you when you got your first tattoo?” You questioned. 

“18. It was this one.” Mapi said excitedly, holding out her arm to point at the partially covered up tattoo. “I covered it kind of a couple years later. Would you ever get a tattoo?” 

You weren’t a bad liar, but for some reason, you didn’t feel like lying to Mapi. She felt like a judgment free zone, in a way your sister didn’t. “I have one.” 

Mapi looked at you in surprise. “You do? Where? What is it? When did you get it? How did you get it?” The law in Barcelona was that you could get one at 16 without parental consent, but Mapi hadn’t known when you would have done it. 

You laughed at her rapid fire questions. “I got it in Norway. It was a stick and poke, I don’t even remember getting it, I was blacked out.” 

Mapi tried to school her features, but you could sense her disapproval anyway. It wasn’t for the reason you expected, though. “Someone gave you a stick and poke while you were blacked out?” She asked evenly. 

You just shrugged. “I asked for it, apparently.” 

It was quiet for a moment while the defender tried to act like that didn’t upset her. 

“What is it?” You blushed, then, and Mapi cracked a smile. “Tell me, tell me. I won’t tell your sister.” 

Instead of telling, you showed her, pulling your shirt up so your rib was exposed.

So the 23 clearly inked into your skin was visible. 

Mapi’s touch was delicate when she traced over it, a small smile on her lips. 

“23, huh?” 

You shrugged. “It was the only thing I asked for, apparently. I couldn’t remember the number, I was so drunk, but I made someone google what it was, and then… got it.” 

“That’s really sweet.” Mapi said quietly. 

“Hope she doesn’t change her number.” You said quickly, trying not to linger on the sentimentality of it all. 

“Eh. You can always turn it into something else. Tattoo cover ups aren’t that expensive.” Mapi said casually, knowing exactly who was just a few steps from the family room. Sue her if she wanted to see Ingrid’s reaction to your tattoo. 

“Tattoo? TATTOO? You have a tattoo, solstråle?” Ingrid asked, practically falling into the room. You tensed, suddenly terrified that this would be it. She’d make you leave after this. But while ingrid looked a little stern, she didn't seem angry. Still, you were a bit frozen still, and Mapi took her opportunity. 

“Stick and poke. Got it while blackout drunk.” She said, holding up a hand for you to high five, despite clearly disapproving minutes earlier. Apparently, Mapi only needed to be a protective adult in Ingrid’s absence. You high fived her, allowing yourself to smile a bit, though you shot your sister a nervous glance. 

Ingrid pinched the bridge of her nose between two fingers, sighing heavily and sitting on the couch. 

“Alright. Let me see it.” You sat up to lift the side of your shirt again, stopping when she threw a hand over her eyes. “Wait, no. Is it bad? Is it a bad word? Is it a vagina?” You and Mapi collapsed into giggles, and Ingrid rolled her eyes, removing her hand from her face. “Oh grow up, both of you. Let me see, solstråle.” 

A bit smugly, now, you showed her the tattoo, watching carefully as her face morphed from apprehension, to surprise, to… emotion. Ingrid was tearing up. 

“Oh my god, don’t cry, please, Ingrid,” you begged, sitting up and looking at your sister anxiously. Mapi was shaking with silent laughter next to you, and Ingrid was waving her hands in front of her face frantically. 

“I’m not crying, I’m not. I’m just- tattoos are bad. Really bad. You shouldn’t have that. Tattoo. Of my number. On your body forever. My baby sister,” She trailed off, biting her lip when it began to tremble. 

“Ingrid,” you complained, looking away uncomfortably. 

“Ven aqui, princesa,” Mapi said quietly, pulling Ingrid into her side, though she was still smiling. Ingrid took a few calming breaths resting against her girlfriend, staying silent even though she had a million things to say. Her girlfriend took the opportunity to break the ice, seeing as though you looked to be on the verge of bolting out of the room. “ You know what would look good, solstråle? A 4, on the other side.” She suggested with a grin. 

Ingrid sat bolt upright. “NO! No more tattoos. María, I swear to god.” 

Mapi laughed, throwing her hands up in the air. “I’m just kidding, princesa, relax! God you sound like Alexia when I joked that I was going to tattoo Fresa when she was 12.  I thought Ale was going to hit me.” 

“I might hit you.” Ingrid mumbled, crossing her arms over her chest, glaring at her girlfriend. 

“Nah. I’m too hot for that.” Mapi said confidently, leaning in to kiss her girlfriend’s cheek. Ingrid fought a smile and you turned away with a grimace on your face. 

“Well. I’m going to bed. Please, keep the volume down, I don’t wish to be scarred this evening.” You said, walking briskly out of the room, ignoring Mapi’s cackle, and Ingrid’s gasp. 

“We don’t have sex! We don’t! Abstinence is key!” Ingrid shouted after you, sighing heavily when she heard you laugh from the stairs. She turned to Mapi with a defeated look on her face. 

“Nicely done, princesa.” Mapi teased. 

Ingrid groaned, collapsing against her girlfriend. “She laughed a lot today. Like really laughed.” Ingrid commented after a minute. 

Mapi ran her fingers through Ingrid’s loose hair. “I know. It was nice. She’s making progress, mi amor. You’re doing really well.” 

Ingrid smiled shyly into the Spaniard, privately thinking that she’d do a lot worse without Mapi around to help. It takes a village, she supposed. 

-------

You hadn’t quite drifted off when you heard your bedroom door open quietly. You were half asleep, too sleepy to open your eyes, assuming that either Ingrid or Mapi were putting something in your room you’d forgotten downstairs. You cracked an eye open after a second when you heard a noise closer to your bed, and saw your sister picking up Snø, who had fallen off your bed. She turned towards you, and for some reason, you shut your eyes before she could see they were open. 

You pretended to be asleep. You weren’t sure why. 

You were glad you had, though, when you felt Snø placed just next to your face, felt the covers pulled up a little until they were just under your chin, and felt Ingrid press a soft kiss to your forehead. 

“God natt solstråle, jeg elsker deg,” she whispered, before quietly creeping back out of the room. 

You were wide awake now, opening your eyes as soon as you heard the door shut. You weren’t quite sure what you were so upset about. Ingrid tucking you in had felt safe and loving and warm. Those were all good feelings… so why did it feel like a part of your chest was caving in on itself?

It was just… where had Ingrid learned to do that? You couldn’t, for the life of you, remember your parents doing anything similar with you. Even when you were young, putting you to bed consisted of them standing in the doorway while you got under the covers, and them bidding you a goodnight. Had it not been like that for Ingrid? 

The more you thought about it, the more obvious it seemed. Of course it hadn’t been like that for Ingrid. She had been intentional, wanted. She was their favorite. They loved Ingrid in a way they never loved you. Of course they tucked her in, and kissed her forehead, and told her they loved her. Words you hadn’t heard from either of them in a long time. Ingrid got everything you always craved, and you couldn’t even really be that mad about it. Because if anyone deserved the absolute best the world had to offer, it was your sister. 

You cried yourself to sleep that night, quietly muffling your sobs in your pillow. It was a sadness that plagued you, mixed with hope. Your parents didn’t love you, you were pretty sure of that. But it seemed like, maybe, Ingrid did. 

-------

The following day was a match day. Well, not for Mapi, obviously, but it was an important league match for the team, and for Ingrid, and you were actually looking forward to going. 

You woke up well rested in your bedroom, warm sunlight streaming in through the cracks in the blinds. You looked around when you woke up, a bit confused at the transformation it had undergone. It was cozy, and you relished laying in bed for a bit, not in any rush to leave this newly comforting space. It felt like home, and thought that still scared you, it wasn’t as terrifying in the daylight. Everything was always better in the morning. 

And though the morning was good, the afternoon only went downhill. 

You’d disappeared up to your room to get some homework done before you were set to leave for the game, and Mapi and Ingrid were lounging downstairs, watching a WSL match. Ingrid was ignoring the repetitive texts from her mother. After another one buzzed her phone, quickly followed by a sharp ring as her mom resorted to calling her, Ingrid flipped her phone over with a heavy sigh, turning to hide her face in the crook of Mapi’s neck. The Spaniard frowned sadly, wrapping her arms tight around the Norwegian, softly rubbing her back. 

“I love you.” Mapi whispered, not really sure what to say, but figuring that those words couldn’t hurt. Ingrid whispered them back, feeling a bit braver now, before pulling away and reaching for her phone again. 

“I don’t know what to say to her. I don’t want to talk to her right now, but she can tell something is wrong. I never ignore her like this.” 

“You’re not ready to talk. Just say that.” Mapi suggested. Ingrid thought for a few moments, before slowly nodding and beginning to type a response. 

Please stop calling. I am focused on Solstråle right now. You’ve really hurt her, and neither of us are ready to talk to you yet. Please respect that.

Ingrid showed Mapi before hitting send, an apprehensive look on her face. 

“Perfect, amor.” Mapi assured her, watching as Ingrid hit send and snuggled back up against her girlfriend. She felt the words more than she heard them when Mapi spoke into her ear. “I am proud of you. You’re doing the right thing for your sister, and I know it’s hard, but you’re doing so well, mi princesa. I’m so proud of you.” 

Ingrid blushed heavily, but smiled to herself. She wasn't sure why, but it suddenly felt like things might be okay from here on out. She would be wrong. 

-------

You shouldn’t have answered the phone. You should have known better. You couldn't help the hope that bloomed inside of you when you saw your mom’s name on the caller ID as your phone rang, though. You answered the phone. 

“You’re ruining our family.” She ruined it first. 

“You’ve made my daughter hate me.” You’re her daughter too. 

“Ingrid doesn’t want you there. She’s not your parent, I am.” Ingrid says she wants you here. And Ingrid acts more like a parent than she ever has. 

“If I'd known how much trouble you’d be, I wouldn’t have bothered with having you.” Sometimes you wish she hadn’t bothered with it. 

“You cause more trouble than you’re worth, and one day Ingrid will see that. And I won’t be here to take you back.” You were a lot of trouble, weren’t you? Your mom was right. One day, Ingrid and Mapi would reach the point she had. And you’d have nowhere else to go. 

Your thoughts only spiraled from there. You hung up the phone without saying a word, letting it fall to the ground. You curled into yourself and thought. Thought hard. Until your mind felt like a prison you were locked in, and you weren’t sure how to get out. Until the room disappeared around you, and all you felt was hatred. Not towards your mother. But towards yourself. 

-------

You wouldn’t look at Mapi. You wouldn’t move. You didn’t even really seem to know she was there. You sat with your knees pulled to your chest on the floor by your bed, a vacant look in your eyes. 

“Come on, pequeña, come back. I’m right here, you’re safe.” Mapi said softly, careful not to touch you. She’d come to ask you if you’d be ready to go in an hour, wanting to leave at the same time as Ingrid and spend time with the team as they got ready in the locker room. She’d found you like this, making yourself as small as possible against your bed. You looked tiny, and Mapi spoke quietly, delicately, trying to coax you back to her. 

Still, even her soothing words didn’t bring you out. And she knew she needed to get Ingrid, even as she knew that Ingrid would freak out.

She stepped away from you, leaning into the hall and calling quietly towards her room, where your sister was. 

“Ingrid, come here please.” She said, as calmly as she could. Ingrid appeared in the hall, walking towards your room as she fiddled with the braid in her hair. 

“What’s up?” She asked, following Mapi into your room. “Solstråle?” She looked between you and her girlfriend in confusion. 

“I think she’s a little out of it right now. I’m not sure what happened, I found her like this.” Mapi explained, trying her best to not make Ingrid panic. 

Ingrid sat down next to you, grabbing your hand. When you didn’t even flinch, she looked at Mapi in horror. 

“María, what do we do?” 

“She’s all right, amor. She just needs a bit.” Mapi reassured, sitting down on your other side. 

“I… I don’t understand, what happened?” 

“I don’t know, mi amor. Something probably upset her. She’s very vulnerable right now.” Mapi replied, before pausing briefly. “Do you remember when I withdrew from camp for the first time? I got like this. I was okay, I just needed some time, and my brain was trying to protect itself. Solstråle is okay, she just needs the same.” 

Ingrid nodded slowly, because she did remember. That was different, though, that was… a traumatic experience for her girlfriend. And whatever was happening with you right now, this couldn’t be a reaction to a traumatic experience. Yes, you were struggling, and yes, the last couple years had been hard, but you weren’t… traumatized? 

As Ingrid sat and waited for you to come back to her, though, she realized that you were. If she put herself in your position, she couldn’t see how you could have come out of everything not traumatized. The marks your parents had left on you ran deeper than Ingrid had realized. And there wasn’t anything she could do to fix them unless you let her. 

“María,” Ingrid said quietly, a desperate plea for some reassurance as minutes passed and nothing changed, as she stared into your eyes and you didn't react. 

“I know, cariño, but she’s okay. She’s okay, I promise. Just try to stay calm.” 

Ingrid wasn’t sure how much longer she could stay calm. Especially when she glanced at her phone and saw it was several minutes past the time she was supposed to leave for the match. “Can you call Ale? And tell her I can’t come?” 

Mapi was nodding before Ingrid finished her sentence, standing and stepping out of the room. The phone only rang once before Alexia picked up, her reassuring voice calming Mapi, who was pretending to be a lot less panicked than she felt. 

“Hola.” 

“Ingrid and I can’t come.” Mapi said simply. 

“What’s going on? Are you both okay?” Alexia asked with concern. Ingrid wouldn’t just miss a match she was supposed to be starting. Not unless something was wrong. 

“It’s her sister, she’s not… well right now. We have to stay here with her. Ale, I’m really sorry,” Mapi said, cutting herself off before she got choked up. She wasn’t an emotional person but seeing you like this, seeing Ingrid so upset, and hearing her best friend’s voice over the phone… she couldn’t help it. 

“No, don’t be sorry. Family first, always. I’ll talk to Jona. Do you need anything? Can I help?” Alexia asked. Hearing Mapi cry was always unsettling, because it happened so rarely. 

“No, we’ve got it. Thank you, Ale, really.” Mapi said back, clearing her throat. 

They said goodbye, and Mapi walked back into the room, raising her eyebrows when she saw Ingrid on your phone. 

“She talked to Mom. Like 20 minutes ago, she answered a call from Mom.” Ingrid stated. “Could that…” 

Mapi took her spot back next to you, absentmindedly taking your hand in hers. You gave it the faintest of squeezes, but the Spaniard didn’t want to put any pressure on you, so she said nothing. “It could be that. It makes sense. A lot of this seems to have to do with your mom. I don’t know what she said on the phone, but… it probably wasn’t good.” 

Ingrid sat with that information for a bit, startling slightly when you slumped into her. Carefully, she lowered you so your head was in her lap. You seemed a little more aware, now, but still nowhere near normal. Softly, she began to pull your hair out of the braid it was in, combing it back away from your face. 

“Our Mom did this to her.” She said evenly. Mapi rested her chin on Ingrid’s shoulder, nodding slightly. “I am never letting that woman near Solstråle again. I don’t care what I have to do. She’s been hurt enough. I won’t let her be hurt anymore.” 

It didn’t matter that Mapi had come to this conclusion a couple days ago. It mattered that Ingrid was there now, and Ingrid was going to keep you safe. 

You heard what Ingrid said. Your ears still worked, you were just a bit… out of it. You heard what she had told her girlfriend. And as she sat above you, relaxing you with every touch of her fingers to your scalp, you knew that you were failing at the rules you’d set yourself years ago. 

Don’t get attached. Don’t expect anything from anyone. Don’t get your hopes up. Don’t listen when people tell you they love you; they almost never mean it. 

You were trusting, again. Just a little bit, piece by piece, and you knew that it would take time before you healed fully, before you trusted fully. Very quickly, though, you were losing the will to be independent, losing the will to be strong. You didn’t want to have to be strong anymore. And you were beginning to think you didn’t need to be. 

Of course, healing isn’t linear. Nothing is that easy. So even as you slowly sat up off your sister, and inquired as to why she wasn’t at her game, some part of you knew something else would go wrong. It had happened too many times for you not to know any better. There was still a hesitation when you leaned into the hug your sister offered, as she explained that you were more important than football. There was still hesitation when she asked what had happened. You told her the fewest details possible, which she clearly wasn’t happy with. You were still holding yourself back, somewhere in the middle of healed and broken. It was almost a race to see who could get to you first. It would either be Mapi and Ingrid to reach you, to put you back together. Or it would be the trauma and pain that pulled you backwards, back to the version of yourself you hated. Breaking you for good. 

------

The answer would come in the form of a knock on the front door, later that day. After you’d gotten up off the floor of your bedroom, and returned to pretending to be okay. You were in the garage with Mapi, working on the bike, while Ingrid cooked dinner. You were loosening up a bit, and Mapi could tell you were getting closer to telling her what your mom had said on the phone. 

Your sister answered the door, thinking maybe it would be one of their teammates, coming to check on them after her rather abrupt withdrawal from the match. 

When Ingrid opened the door, though, it wasn’t her teammate on the front porch. It was your father. 

-------

Your father, who was significantly less at fault than your mom, but still complicit in how you’d been treated. Your father, who always worked too much to really have a say in anything regarding your life. Your father, who you’d always felt closer to, always trusted more. 

Your father, who loved you more than he’d ever admit. 

Ingrid knew what he was there for the minute she saw his face. She was proven right when she got you and Mapi from the garage and brought you into the family room. When he began to talk and explain what he wanted, began to try to convince you to come home. 

“I know Mom messed up. We both have, really. Our home isn’t the same without you though, Solstråle. I officially retired yesterday, which is why I wasn’t here sooner. I want to make things right. We weren’t good parents, but I’m here now, my darling. I want you to come back home. We can fix things with your mom. We can fix things at your school, get you back with your friends. We can be a family again.” 

We can be a family again. A few months ago, maybe that would have gotten you home. Maybe the temptation of your friends and Norway and the promise of being loved would have worked. Things were different now, though. You felt like you had a family here, or that you could. 

You’d always had a better relationship with your Dad. He loved all the outdoorsy activities you did, and though he’d been busy with work practically your whole life, the little time you spent together was always nice. Him retiring would ensure one sane person was home with you, that it wouldn’t just be you and your mom. And maybe you would have said yes, if you hadn’t seen the fear in Ingrid’s eyes, and decided it was because she wanted you to stay. She wanted you here, you told yourself. You wanted to be where you were wanted. And that wasn’t Norway, not with your mom. 

“No.” you said simply. 

“Solstråle,” your father began, with an exasperated sigh. 

“No. I appreciate you coming here, and I appreciate you caring but it’s too late. It’s not enough, and it’s too late. Mom doesn’t want me home. She made that clear on the phone today. I don’t want to be where I’m not wanted. I don’t want to go back to Norway.” 

Next to you, Mapi, who had been silent this whole time, squeezed your shoulder reassuringly. 

Your Dad shifted uncomfortably in his seat. You got the idea he thought this would be easier, which made sense. You hadn’t put up any fight when they’d sent you to Spain, and your Dad hadn’t expected any fight now. 

“Take a day or two. Think about it. For me?” 

Ingrid and Mapi wanted to snap that you didn’t owe him anything and he was in no place to ask you for anything, but they didn’t want to cause any more conflict than was necessary. Besides, you could handle yourself. 

“I’ve made my decision but if you want to hear me repeat myself in two days, that’s fine.” You said calmly. Ingrid bit back a laugh, but Mapi smiled openly. 

Your Dad didn’t seem phased, to his credit. “I’d like to talk to you both. Alone.” He directed that at the older girls, and you took the opportunity to flee upstairs, far away from the man that was… doing nothing but confusing you about your feelings towards your parents. 

Your Dad didn’t stay for much longer, giving your sister a little speech about encouraging you to “make the right decision,” and why the right thing would be sending you home with him. 

It left your sister with a bit to think about, her parents often making her rethink her decisions. Mapi could sense this turmoil, but she didn’t say anything, knowing Ingrid would come to her. Ingrid was completely silent as her and Mapi went to clean up the kitchen from dinner, allowing you space and time upstairs to process.  

After a few minutes, though, Ingrid spoke up. 

“Are you sure we’re making the right decision?” Ingrid asked, turning to Mapi as she finished putting away the dishes. 

“We aren’t making a decision. Your sister is.” Mapi reasoned. “Besides, Ingrid, you said it yourself. Solstråle shouldn’t be around your mom. There are no real, tangible reasons why she shouldn’t stay here.” 

“My dad had a couple.” Ingrid said skeptically. 

“Okay. Why should Solstråle go back to Norway?” Mapi asked, taking a seat at the counter across from her girlfriend. Ingrid sighed, and began to list off the reasons her father had given her. 

It was, of course, at this moment that you came down the stairs to fill up your water. This moment, the worst possible moment, as Ingrid tried to convince herself that you should stay, while inadvertently convincing you that she didn’t want you to stay. You froze in the hall, just out of sight, after hearing your name when Mapi asked her question. It was a miracle you stayed silent and on your feet, as every fear you still harbored about being a burden to Ingrid and Mapi was, apparently, proved to be true. 

“She doesn’t have friends here. She doesn’t speak Spanish very well. We’re both busy athletes, and she is… not easy. We’d have our hands full. We are young, and we aren’t her parents. I’m her sister, not her mom. She needs help, and I’m not sure how to convince her to get it. My mom and dad can get her back on track better than I can.” 

Ingrid was simply restating what her father had said. None of it she agreed with, none of it felt true. You didn’t hear her tell Mapi that, though. No, you quietly crept back upstairs, and sat on your bed numbly. Your stupid bed that she’d bought for you. In the stupid room she’d redecorated. With the absurd presents she’d gotten you. All of it wasn’t true. All of it was a lie. She didn’t want you here, how could you have ever let yourself be convinced that she did? Just like that, with only a few sentences overheard, every ounce of trust you’d begun to place in your sister had evaporated. They were downstairs, talking about how they didn’t want you, after spending so long lying and saying they did. 

It should have been confusing, this contradiction. But it wasn’t, because you’d spent your whole life feeling unwanted. And what is a few days of being told something against 18 years of being told something the complete opposite? Your mom had been right. Ingrid had come to her senses. You weren’t wanted here. Your Dad said he wanted to fix things, and though that was hardly believable to you, you’d go back. Maybe you weren’t wanted anywhere, but you’d go back to Norway, where no one cared what you did as long as you didn’t get in trouble. You supposed they didn’t really care here, either, they’d just been pretending to. It had all been an act, probably to spare your feelings, but an act nonetheless. You ignored that it didn’t make sense. You pretended that the complete contradictions in what they’d been telling you and how they’d been acting didn’t exist. Because you’d rather convince yourself then be convinced by them. You’d rather hurt yourself than let them hurt you first. You’d take the first step. You’d make it easy, and you’d go. 

Very suddenly, you couldn’t stand to be in this house, this room for a second longer. You pulled out your phone, and told your dad you’d reconsidered. You took a few calming breaths, preparing yourself to rid your sister of the burden that was taking care of you, apparently. You shouldn’t be surprised by this. You'd been right, the whole time, to not trust her when she said she wanted you here. She didn’t. Of course she didn’t.

Doubt swirlied around in your head. Nothing made sense, nothing made any sense. There had always been one constant in your life, though. And that was being unwanted. Ingrid didn’t want you. Ingrid couldn’t want you. It was too good to be true. 

You stomped down the stairs, hearing Ingrid and Mapi’s voices grow quiet upon your approach. You assumed they’d been talking about you, and they had. About finding you a therapist. Not about wanting you to go. 

You entered the kitchen, startling both girls with the hard look on your face. “I’m going back to Norway.” You asked, voice monotone, but shaking dangerously as you regarded your sister and her girlfriend. 

“What?” Ingrid asked, thinking she must have misheard you. 

“I am going back to Norway. I texted Dad.” You turned to leave, but Mapi grabbed your wrist, spinning you back around. 

“What the hell are you talking about?” She asked. You could only glare at her.  

“You said you wanted to stay, solstråle, I don’t understand…” Ingrid said, trailing off. 

“You don’t want me here, Ingrid, and I don’t want to be here.” 

“Of course we want you here,” Ingrid began, growing more and more confused with each venomous word that you spewed at her. 

You wrenched your arm out of Mapi’s grasp and stepped towards your sister, your outstretched hand connected with her chest as you shoved her backwards. 

“Oye!” Mapi shouted, getting in between the two of you. You were beside yourself with rage, suddenly. Why had she lied? Why had she gotten your hopes up? 

“No. You. Don’t. Stop lying, both of you.” You pushed Mapi away from you then, ignoring the angry tears that had begun to well in your eyes. “You don’t want me here, you think I’d do better in Norway. I don’t speak Spanish, I don’t have any friends,  I’m too much work, you are young and you don’t need a teenager to take care of. I’m mean and quiet and stubborn and my own fucking mother doesn’t love me. I heard you earlier Ingrid, you don’t need to lie. I’m used to it. You don’t want me. Stop pretending you do.”

At some point during your speech, Mapi and Ingrid understood what had happened. You’d overheard something out of context, clearly. And it was evident that you’d reverted back to your original belief that they didn’t want you. It hurt them, how easily you’d been convinced. And suddenly, they weren’t confused and they weren’t angry that you’d pushed them. Their faces softened, and they inched closer to you and you hated it. Because everything inside of you was screaming to believe what you knew what they were about to say, to let yourself fall into their arms, for good this time. To trust them. 

You couldn’t. You couldn’t be hurt again. It would kill you. 

You stepped backwards, and both girls stopped moving. It was Ingrid that spoke first, her voice low and soothing. 

“Solstråle, I don’t believe any of that. Dad said all that, to try to convince us to let you go back to Norway. We want you here. I know it’s hard for you to believe us, honey, but we do. More than anything, we want you to stay.” 

You shook your head frantically, teardrops hitting the floor under you. “No. No.” 

Mapi nodded, stepping a bit closer. “Yes, mi sol. We want you here. We love you, and we want you to stay.”

“No, stop!” You shouted. Ingrid was crying now, and you tried not to care. “You don’t mean that, you can’t mean that. Please, stop lying, this is too confusing, and it hurts too much, please. Just let me go.” 

You didn’t mean you wanted them to let you go back to Norway. You wanted them to let you go. The tension in the air thickened at this, as both of them realized what you meant. 

“No. I won’t do that. You’re staying here, with me. Here, where you are loved, and wanted. You’re not going anywhere, you aren’t allowed to.” Ingrid said, carelessly wiping a tear off her cheek as she stepped closer to you. 

Mapi stepped closer, too. “Nena, I promise you. On everything I love. On my parents, on football, on Ingrid. I want you to stay. Please.” The emotion in the defender’s voice startled you, and very suddenly, all of the fight had gone out of you, all of the anger. 

You wiped your eyes like a child. Because really, that was the part of you crying. “Why?” You cried. “Why do you want me? No one wants me.” 

Mapi shook her head, for once at a loss for what to say, as Ingrid let out a rough sob at your words. “How could we not? You’re my baby sister, Solstråle. You are kind, funny, and caring. You’re a good person, honey. You are good, and we love you.” 

It was quiet as you heaved in a few breaths, looking between both girls as you tried to decide what was true and what was false. And, ultimately, when you made your decision, it was because you were too tired to do anything else. Too exhausted of hating yourself to continue punishing yourself. Too exhausted of not letting yourself believe that you were worthy of love. Because you craved it, so deeply inside of you. And as much as you didn’t want to, and as much as you wished you didn’t care, you did. 

You are good, Ingrid had said. And if you were good, you could let yourself be loved. 

“Do you promise?” You asked, your voice cracking at the same time Ingrid and Mapi felt their hearts break for the 10th time today, at how completely disbelieving you sounded. 

“I promise.” Ingrid said. You looked between her and Mapi silently, and Ingrid took a hesitant step towards you, before Mapi pulled her back, shaking her head slightly. You needed to go to them. You needed to decide, all by yourself. 

It was the desperation in your sister’s voice that really got you, the tears in her eyes. And maybe it was also the desperation inside yourself, too,  and the ache in your heart that you knew you didn’t need to carry anymore. You wrapped your arms tight around your abdomen, and prepared yourself to say the most vulnerable, most terrifying words you had ever said, and might ever say. 

“I want to stay with you guys.” 

The words were barely out of your mouth before you were being squished into Ingrid’s arms, Mapi’s quickly following. Both of them hugged you tight, giving you the comfort you had been trying to give yourself. You didn’t need to do that, anymore. They would do it for you. 

You wouldn’t have to do any of the things you’d spent a long time doing alone, alone anymore. 

It had been years and years of wishing you had a family that loved you, thinking you’d give anything for a family that cared about you again. It turned out you didn’t need to give anything. You could just… have it. You just deserved it. 

-------

def not the end of my girl sol ☀️ we'll see more of her... soon ish :)

hope everyone enjoyed this little series <3 I love and appreciate you all very much

also... i was 🤏 this close to leaving part 4 on a cliffhanger where mr. engen shows up but the second part wouldn't have been long enough and i am much too nice

[julia-jck]

Random new boyo!

I have no idea what to do with him... Which I'm thinking about maybe adding to his story, kinda like Ink?

Imagine this: He wakes up in a white space with some half finished places from undertale, but nothing else. He himself is an unfinished design, only wearing a dress-shirt and leggings. It could be his finished design, but it doesn't feel finished to him. His creator had given up on his AU and story and abandoned it some time ago, but was done enought to be reality. He was stuck alone in his AU for some time, walking around and seeing all the unfinished stuff. But it didn't take too long for him to be found and brought to the Omega timeline. When he got to the Omega timeline, he realized quickly that everyone seemed to be something and/or have a theme, while he were just... some skeleton guy. He didn't know what to do and were to shy to really approach people, but knew he needed something to do for a living and to keep him sane. So he became a postman/mailman. And being more drawn to cute stuff, he decided to tailor his uniform to be more cute. The wings on his boots were a gift however, as his coworkers thought he were very fast and thought it would look cute. He didn't have a name for a very long time as he was never given one and never really knew his own identity. He wasn't even sure if he were a Sans or not. But after a while, he decided to name himself Del.

If you think he looks like a shipchild, you wouldn't be wrong. I looked at him many times and thought "he looks like he could be a chip child between these characters" for like.... 3 diferent pairings (all being with Dream), and I were close to just say "Fu*k it" and make him a ship child, but I didn't want that. Aka, people in the Omega timeline might mix him up with Dream a few times when he's not in uniform???

[the-isekai-ninja]

Thinking about Kakashi moving in with you.

It's only been a few months since you started dating but every time he's been over he leaves another thing there. First it was some clothes, just so you had something that smelled like him when he was away.

Then a tooth brush and other small toiletries for when he's too tired to go home.

Then books you definitely didn't purchase start appearing on your shelf. On your coffee table. One you found under your bed.

Eventually you jokingly suggest he just moves in with you, but the puppy dog eyes he gives you at the suggestion makes you cave and that same night you and him are packing up his place and moving everything he owns over to yours.

Really, it would have made more sense for you to move in with him as his old place had way more space then your tiny townhouse but you have a wonderful balcony that shows an incredible landscape of Konoha he can't get enough of so it was a no brainer that sacrificing space for the view was worth it.

It doesn't really hit you until a week into it when things have settled. You had gotten an extra set of keys cut for everything and now Kakashi had his own designated spot on your key rack at the front door.

His food and drinks are in your fridge and pantry, extra glasses and plates from his house now shared the space with yours. Horribly mismatched but you wouldn't have it any other way.

His flak vest hangs over one of your dining chairs, too lazy to hang it up properly in a closet as it'll be put back on the very next morning.

Your laundry basket fills up faster now and doing laundry has his clothes mixed with yours. He folds the clean clothes with you as you chat about your day.

Showers he becomes a nightmare. He barges in without a care in the world, asking if he can join you. You've thrown a loofa at him a few times now, sometimes a shower needed to stay a shower and you were always too weak to say no when he started getting handsy.

He makes dinner and you sit at the counter as you watch him, a pink frilly apron you were jokingly gifted as a housewarming present now wrapped around his waist as he chops some veggies.

It's jarring the first time Gai came to visit, asking if Kakashi was home. It takes you a few seconds of gears turning in your head before you remember that yes, of course people would come to see kakashi here, he lives with you! Kakashi warns you later Gai was just being polite since this is still new, eventually he'll go back to barging in without a care in the world.

The nail on the coffin at how absolutely domestic all of this has become, is when you leave the bathroom to see Kakashi tucked into bed with a book in his hands. He's reading comfortably with a small light on and you can't help but stare. He's in a sweater as it's gotten colder and his mask is nowhere to be found. You stand there for an uncomfortably long time and finally Kakashi glances up to ask you what's wrong.

"You live with me." You announce, as if he wasn't aware of this fact.

He stares at you bewildered but it slowly turns into amusement, "Yes. Yes I do. Have for a few days now."

"You live with me." You state again, finally processing after a whirlwind week the meaning of this change.

Kakashi puts his book to the side to address you properly, "Yes? Is that...a problem...?"

A surge of excitement, love, and passion all bubble up inside of you at once and you fling yourself at Kakashi, catching the Copy Ninja off guard as you wrap your arms around his neck and pepper kisses against his cheek.

Kakashi is taken aback by the sudden action but recovers quickly and wraps his own arms around your torso, pulling you in close to himself as you continue to kiss his bare face. Cheeks, nose, mouth, chin, eyes. It's an onslaught that the ninja is unable to (and doesn't want to) stop.

You shove your face into his chest, nuzzling it in excitement. You peak up and give Kakashi a goofy grin, "You live with me!"

Kakashi gives you an incredulous look before a laugh erupts from his chest, shaking you as you lie on top of him. "I do!"

He kisses your forehead as he pulls you in even closer. You crawl over his lap and cup his face in your hands as you kiss him more.

You pull away to take him in. He's smiling at your antics as he rubs your back with one of his hands as the other slides up to caress your cheek. "Sometimes I feel like I don't deserve this." he confesses.

You squish his cheeks before pecking his lips, "Well it's a good thing it's not solely your decision."

He chuckles, "I suppose so. Thank you. You make me so happy you have no idea."

You huffed, "Kakashi I was so happy that you're here my brain short circuited and I tackled you just a few seconds ago, I have a small idea."

He pulls you in to kiss you again, this time with far more passion than the innocent kisses you had been giving out before. He flips you over to cage you against his body, one arm still wrapped around your waist as the other is used to keep himself hovering over you. "I love you."

You smile up at him, hands going to wrap around his neck again, "I love you too Kakashi. Forever and always."

"Forever and always." He replies back, leaning down to meet your lips again.

In a year, he will find his way back to his old family home and clean it up. When he proposes to you just a week later he'll take you there and tell you it's yours. You'll have to pack up again, say goodbye to the view of your balcony where the two of you spent many quiet nights enjoying each other's company.

Your plates still won't match, his flak vest now has a small space to hang at the front door, your laundry will still get fuller faster, and Kakashi will still try to sneak into your shower. Gai will barge into your home and Kakashi still loves making dinner in that silly pink apron because it makes you laugh.

You'll find you don't miss your small townhouse that could barely fit a second bookshelf because Kakashi has become your home, and you had become his. Wherever you two ended up, so long as you were together, you would be happy together.

[o-sachi]

Fell First & Fell Harder Pt. 1 ‧₊˚ ⋅ Blue Lock Chars. (Request)

ଳ you fell first, but they definitely fell harder ଳ characters; isagi yoichi, barou shoei, reo mikage, rin itoshi ଳ tags; fluff, gn reader, no y/n

ᯓ Isagi Yoichi

"Hm? You wanna go get dinner? Of course. Let's go."

Getting your feelings reciprocated wasn't all that hard. You liked each other and it was all good then. But it was obvious that you took the relationship seriously early on. For a lack of a better term, it was quite one-sided for a while.

He'd be thinking about that fact a lot. Should he be happy? Should he be guilty? So so many thoughts racked his brain.

Eventually—after thinking about it so much—it's like his brain reprogrammed him. A switch was flipped and one day he was lovesick with you. He realized that life wouldn't be the same if you weren't there for him.

Everything you did for him—piled up—and his heart caved. Isagi thought he was the biggest fool for not taking you seriously as well when you first started off.

The whippest of whipped men—I tell ya. He'll indulge you in every little wish and desire you had. Absolute princess treatment from him. But he does unironically call you "queen."

ᯓ Barou Shoei

"What are you talking about? I've always been serious about you!"

The only reason he didn't pour in as much effort at first was because he was too focused on football and improving himself. You fully supported him and his dreams though. Instant brownie points!

He realizes how determined you are to stand behind him no matter what. Slowly, but surely, he builds up so much gratitude for your efforts that he softens over time.

He also realizes that you don't deserve to just cheer him from behind. As a matter of fact, you should be right beside him instead—celebrating his wins as if it were your own.

Barou tries to do the same and support you in the things you love. He'll even learn a thing or two about your hobbies so that you can bond over that as well. He tries so hard to make the relationship so equal and fair. His attempts give you the butterflies.

He will deny at all costs that he didn't love you as much as he did now. Barou will insist that he had loved you soooo much ever since. You knew he was sugarcoating to save your feelings, but it was endearing how he tried nonetheless.

ᯓ Reo Mikage

"New shoes? What about some jewelry? C'mon, let me spoil you a bit."

He was a bit reserved about your relationship at first. You were lovely and every positive adjective out there—but he had his reasons to be iffy. He's stinking rich and people have definitely taken advantage of that before.

However, you weren't like his previous lovers. You could care less about his wealth; you loved him simply for him. Painstaking as it was—you made sure that he'd realize that somehow.

And he does notice this. It was subtle, but he'd slowly ease up on you—becoming more open, spending more time with you, and being more affectionate overall.

You know he's wrapped around your little finger because he just introduced you to his parents. That's when you know it's getting SERIOUS.

When he does fall deeply in love with you, he does a whole 360 and starts spoiling you like crazy. He'll treat you out to 5-star restaurants, buy you designer brand clothing, and bring you to places all over the world. As much as you try to refuse and settle for something more lowkey, he will never back down.

ᯓ Rin Itoshi

"You're so annoying... yeah, yeah... I love you too."

He was hesitant at first because he has major abandonment issues (poor baby). He liked you, sure, but that was as far as he'd allow himself to fall for you. "Love" seemed too serious and dangerous for him to get into.

His doubts bled into your relationship and made it difficult. Truthfully, there were times when you questioned if it was worth it. But you persevered; you wanted to prove him wrong.

After a major fight, he was sure that you were going to leave without another thought. He anticipated this moment yet, he felt like he wasn't ready at all for your departure in his life.

Rin was about to go into an existential crisis when... you somehow came back to him. You smiled at him as if nothing had happened. You told him that you still loved him for all his faults. It felt like he was slapped across the face (in a good way).

Once you had helped him overcome his issues, he felt a bit more comfortable with the idea of "loving" you. So much so that he'd do everything in his power to keep you happy at all times. He was sure that he will never come across someone like you again in his life.

o-sachi © 2024 pls do not translate/copy/reupload my work on other platforms.

[solaireverie]

f1 | i'd be the man

summary: [ drabbles ] you're the formula one driver and he's your wag. (aka the toto wolff-ification of the fast car boys)

warnings: mentions of racism and sexism

author's note: i had so much fun coming up with non-f1 jobs 😂 i'm convinced that most of the boys would still be obsessed with f1. considering doing this for other drivers, drop some suggestions? 👀

→ CHARLES LECLERC

Charles is a fashion designer who works for one of your sponsors. You find his designs slightly... peculiar and aren't afraid to tell him. Determined to prove you wrong about his vision, Charles volunteers to be your primary point of contact for your partnership with the fashion house.

Your meetings are contentious in the beginning, neither of you understanding the other. You leave each consultation with a throbbing migraine and a barely suppressed urge to throw something at Charles. If only he weren't so damned stubborn. (At the same time, you know that his passion for his craft is half of why you even deign to meet with him.)

A grudging respect forms between you after months of friction and endless banter about what exactly you want your sponsorship to look like. If hard-pressed, you might even call it a friendship.

Charles has been a Formula 1 fan since childhood and is secretly a fan of yours. You find out after you meet him for a design meeting after a rough race and he suddenly goes on a rant about how the driver who took you out was being ridiculous and how you deserved better. You're completely charmed and interrupt him by asking him out on a date.

He's the absolute best boyfriend that you could ever ask for, following you to all the European races and supporting you from Monaco when he can't make it. Charles delights in being able to provide a bit of stability for you in your hectic life. He puts up photos of your race wins in his studio and proudly tells all of his clients about his girlfriend and her achievements.

(You still won't listen to his fashion advice, though.)

→ MAX VERSTAPPEN

Max runs the cat shelter that you adopt your cat from. You notice how cute he is the first time you meet him but you're too shy to make a move — besides, Max cherishes his quiet life and you don't know how open he would be to associating with a public figure like a Formula 1 driver. Still, he's funny and kind and you somehow keep talking.

It starts out innocuously, just pictures and updates about your new cat (because Max cares about all of the cats that he's ever taken care of, even the ones that have been adopted into good homes) and occasional behind-the-scenes updates when you find out that Max likes Formula 1.

Without realizing it, Max becomes one of your closest friends. He catsits for you when you're out of the country for races, picks you up from the airport after international races, and cheerfully beats you at sim racing whenever you have the opportunity to game together.

Max realizes that you're basically dating around a year into your friendship. You sleep at his place, in his bed, more often than not. Sassy likes you more than she likes him. You have his coffee order memorized and he knows your parents. (Your mother adores him and constantly encourages you to make a move.)

He's patient, however, and waits for you to realize your own feelings as well. Dating comes as naturally for you as your friendship did. Although Max doesn't always enjoy the media scrutiny that comes with dating a Formula 1 driver, he takes full advantage of the attention to defend you at any given chance.

In fact, you've been asked multiple times by your team principal to get your boyfriend to calm down before he offends another driver, but you wouldn't change Max for the world.

→ LANDO NORRIS

Lando is a Twitch streamer with a decent following who specializes in gaming, especially e-motorsports. He gets the chance to visit your team's garage when he wins a e-sport tournament. He's an unabashed simp fan and immediately makes a fool of himself when he meets you, but you find it adorable.

(Lando swears up and down to anyone who'll listen that he didn't mean to blush and accidentally propose on the spot.)

You cheekily tell him to take you out on a date first and he surprisingly gets his act together and actually follows through. Lando is incredibly kind and clumsily charming despite his awkward exterior. You can tell that he genuinely likes spending time with you and wants to hear what you have to say.

Lando switches to Youtube and vlogging when your relationship stabilizes so he can spend more time with you. His fans — and yours — love catching glimpses of his elusive Formula 1 driver girlfriend in his videos. It's a running joke among his fans that Lando is your sugar baby, which Lando finds extremely funny and shamelessly accepts.

Eventually, both of you realize that you've found the love of your life and you start thinking about marriage. You propose to each other at the same time, on the vacation that you each planned for the other, while your mutual friends who knew about both sides die of laughter from the sidelines.

Lando insists on taking your name as well and declares that he's now officially your trophy husband.

("Get it? You get trophies from your job, which brought us together, so technically I'm a trophy now too?" "Yes, Lando, I understand double entendres perfectly well." "Ooooh French, fancy!")

→ LEWIS HAMILTON

You meet Lewis in your childhood. He karts at the same track as you and you bond over the shared experience of being "other" from the other drivers. No one ever bets on either of you to be fast, to win, so you bet on each other. Lewis supports you with his entire being, even when he chooses to leave racing to chase other dreams. You dreamed of reaching Formula 1 together but Lewis, in this world, is happy cheering from the paddock.

Everyone around you is convinced that you're dating Lewis, who has become a highly successful model and philanthropist. Who else would would take time out of their insanely busy life to follow you around the world? The closeness between you doesn't help either — Lewis acts like your partner more often than not.

Despite appearances, however, Lewis is just your best friend, and it stays that way until a PR disaster with your respective relationships calls for extensive damage control. The best distraction that your media teams can come up with is that you fake-date each other: what better to appease the masses with than the ever-beloved tale of childhood friends to lovers?

The fake relationship changes something in your previously stable friendship. Suddenly, you can't stop seeing Lewis in a different light and you find yourself wishing that the romance was real. You're terrified of losing one of the most important people in your life, so you keep quiet about your true feelings for months as things calm down.

Eventually, your manager gives the all-clear to end the ruse and you end up scrambling for a reason to maintain it. By that time, Lewis has caught on to you. He stops by one night with a bottle of wine and your favorite movie. As the credits play, he leans over and kisses you softly — the first time he's kissed you out of the eye of the public.

You're lost for words and he quietly assures you that no matter what happens if you pursue a real relationship, he'll always be your Lewis.

Ten years later, happily married with a couple of championships under your belt, you couldn't be happier that you had chosen to say "hi" to the boy at the karting track.

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