#he's just nothing. soul or no soul there is no guy in there.

[redwinelew]

knee socks | lewis hamilton

summary | singer!y/n released a song which exposes lewis' lack of attention toward her in their relationship and he isn't too pleased with it.

warnings | 18+. smut. oral (f receiving), orgasm denial, vaginal sex, dirty talk, lewis being a little mean, english is not my first language, pls lmk what else i missed

author's note | i have nothing to post rn and this has been sitting in my drafts so weeks so here you go. lmk if u guys enjoy this and if u want me to write more written fics.

lewis is a private man, he made that clear all throughout his life, since the first world championship trophy was handed to him, the moments everybody's eyes in the world started to set on him, following his every move, to this day. he doesn't like channeling his personal matters to the public. sure there are a lot of people who'd be interested to know, journalists who would sell their souls for an exclusive interview with him, but nothing can make him give up his peace anymore. he had his moments when he was younger. everything was open to interpretation for the media and fans. but as he gets older, things changed. private life should stay private.

you are a musician. and it's risky, dating a musician. he's seen it. he's been with one, and he is one. he thought he already knew, he thought he understood what he was getting himself back into. you are different from his ex. you make your own music, write your own songs, not afraid to be vulnerable through your art, never care however fans and media are going to interpret them. they'll never know the truth. it's none of their business anyway. he doesn't regret dating you, though. nothing could make him regret being with you. he wouldn't trade it even for his 8th championship.

but deep down, lewis knows this day will come. where a little inconvenience happens in your relationship was enough to set you off completely. the day where you stopped listening to the logical part of your brain and follow your heart instead. the day you pissed off enough to finally say fuck it.

in your defense, you were so caught up in your feelings. part of you also honestly didn't care. you are a singer, a musician, as much as he is. this is how you express yourself. he should have known that by now. if he didn't want the whole world to know how fucking busy he is with the race season to the point where he never spent time with you anymore, he should have pay more attention to you.

you would have argued with that if only you could form a single coherent sentence right now. but all you could say was—

"please...."

do not ask how long has this been going on. he could lie and say hours and you'll believe it. he could ask you to do anything and you'll obey. it's not like you have a choice. if it pleases him, if it will somehow get you the release you have been desperately craving, fucking hell, you'll do it. that's how it is right now. you, half naked on the bed. pants discarded somewhere on the carpeted bedroom floor. panties gone to fuck knows where. his old band t-shirt that you're wearing is pushed up, exposing your belly and almost your chest.

him? in between your legs. inked hands holding your thighs open for his tongue to explore your folds in every way he knows, drawing all kinds of sounds out of you, pushing you to the edge again and again but not quite giving you the release you've been desperately needing. not after what you said about him in the song, no.

a whine escapes your lips yet again when he pulls himself off of you just as you're about to reach another peak. he looks up, a smirk decorating his face as his tongue licks your arousal from his thick lips.

bastard.

"i didn't ask you to beg." he replies calmly, caressing your inner thigh all the way up to your knee, making you almost jerk up at the slightest of his touch.

of course he is calm. he's enjoying this. torturing you. driving you insane. god how you wish the tables are turn right now. how you wish that you have the energy to flip the two of you and get your revenge on him, showing him how it feels to be in your shoes. he'd be worse than you are right now. you can say that confidently because you've seen it. some rare moments where he handed over the control to you, letting you take charge in bed and do whatever you wanted to him. easiest way to say, he was a mess.

"you're not being fair—" was instead all you could say in such a pathetic tone that even you did not recognize yourself.

"i wasn't planning to be."

your pussy clenches around nothing at the casualness of his reply. your mind is pissed at him for ruining your orgasms but your body couldn't help but craving for his touch. you've seen the dominance side of him almost every night and yet the calmness that he's radiating right now even though you know how angry he is at you and your song is enough to send shivers down your spine.

there's something about lewis being angry and yet not completely showing it.

it turns you on even more.

"tell me what i want to hear first." he demands, his thick digits rubbing your bundle of nerves. your back arches into his touch. your eyelids flutter, broken moans fall from your lips.

the pleasure didn't last long. a soft, frustrated sigh leaves you as do his fingers from your clit. just when you were going to try catching your breath, he plunges two fingers inside without warning.

"fuck— oh my god—"

he hovers above you, eyes never leaving your face, watching your every reaction, the way your jaw hangs low. the thickness of his digits makes you feel so full already, you couldn't form neither words nor sounds.

"fuck, fuck—" and when he moves his fingers, you already saw heaven. the wet squelching sound from your arousal is so sinful it almost made you feel embarrassed at how wet you still are even after having your pleasure punished by him. your hand reaches up to his free arm near your head, clinging to him for support. your nails dig deep into his inked skin, drawing a silent hiss from him.

"come on," he says again. "tell me what i want to hear."

this might be it. he's fingering you with passion, hitting that sweet spot over and over again, making your legs tremble. he never half-assed anything in his life, especially when it comes to your pleasure but something tells you that maybe this is when he thinks that you have had your lesson and it's time you give you that release. he just loves you that much. and you always get what you want.

"n-no." you stutter in defiance.

he smirks again. your denial only makes this more fun for him, which is apparent in the way his fingers move rougher and faster right now. and you notice how his other digits are avoiding your clit, making it a little harder for you to reach another peak.

"four orgasms denied and you still wanna be stubborn?"

only four? it felt like hundreds, you manage to think to yourself despite how hazy your mind feels right now.

"please...." you croak out, and that's how far you'll beg for his forgiveness.

but he's not satisfied. he pulls out his fingers, and you would have groaned if you could even speak right now.

"no...."

"don't worry, sweetie," he cuts you off surprisingly, sitting up straight again. you prop yourself up on your elbows and watch as he lines up the tip of his cock against your entrance, teasing your folds slightly. you feel as if air has been knocked out of your lungs. you didn't even think that this was a possibility tonight, to be fucked by him. to feel his thick cock inside you. genuinely you thought he would leave you high and dry, though it's very unlikely for him. but still. he could truly be that cruel when he wants to.

"i'll make you come if that's what you wanted so badly. but only on my cock. and i'll make you come again and again until i finally get my apology."

you swallow thickly.

that is certainly a promise.

[tofics]

Hi!! I was wondering if you could write something about dean reacting to you getting your 🍒's pierced or him even finding out that they have been. Totally totally okay if not LOVE your work 🫶

Eeeek, my first request ever!!! 🤩 For that alone I'm inclined to make this as perfect as possible, but due to post-holiday brain-rot I can make no promises about the actual quality of what I'm about to produce. 🙈 I immediately had two ideas when I read this, so you're getting both.

Version 1 is just funny, whereas version 2 has a slight bit of angst to it, still a funny ending though. Hope you enjoy! 🤗

Warnings: nipple piercings, bare titties, exposing your 🍒's in front of strangers (willingly), some bleeding, canon typical violence (monster death)

POV: Dean finds out you got your nips pierced.

Version 1 "Sam, don't! He could be the shapeshifter, for all we know!" Dean pulled his brother back by the jacket. "A - a what?" The man in front of you stammered, his eyes blown wide in fear. You quickly hushed him. "It's okay, just get in there!" You were convinced this guy wasn't the shapeshifter. You knew it in your gut, but you knew that explanation wouldn't fly with Dean.

The four of you quickly pressed into the small bathroom. Dean had his gun pointed at the guy's throat, who was nervously eyeing the weapon. "It's okay", you assured him in a hushed whisper. "We'll get you out of here. Just give him the spoon, Sam." You nodded at the younger Winchester, who in turn started prodding his jacket. One pocket, another, then a quiet curse.

"I must've dropped it!"

You glanced at Sam in disbelief. Dean grunted, though he didn't take his eyes off of the stranger.

"Now what?"

Sam shrugged. "I don't have anything else silver on me. Do you?"

"I got lots of silver bullets," Dean growled, still clearly convinced that the poor soul trapped in this bathroom with you was the monster you were looking for. The man yelped quietly.

"Not helpful, Dean," you hissed, but the hunter just grunted.

"You got any better ideas?"

Silence filled the air as all three of you pondered over your current predicament. Then a lightbulb went off in your brain.

"I do, actually."

With swift movements, you handed your gun over to Sam and then began pulling your sweater off.

"Uh - what are you doing?" Sam stared at you like you had lost your mind and even Dean was glancing over at you as you began peeling your top upwards.

"My nipple piercings are made of silver," you explained casually. Sam's eyes grew wide while a vein popped out on Dean's temple. The man you were trying to save looked like he was trying very hard to look anywhere but at you. "If Dean's bullets are the only other silver thing we got, then I don't see any other way than this. I'm not blowing some guy's brain out just to be on the safe side," you continued.

Your top went over your head, leaving you in nothing but your bra from the waist upwards. Sam's face had a funny color and Dean looked like he was about to have an aneurysm. His eyes briefly traveled down to your exposed cleavage, then quickly flicked back up to your face. "You can't be serious," Sam cut in.

"About my nipples being pierced or the piercings being silver?"

"About letting this guy touch you."

You brushed Sam's concern off with a tut. "Oh, hush. Don't be so prude. Now, go on," you said and undid the clasp of your bra with swift fingers.

Three loud inhales sounded as you revealed your boobs to the room. Sam's eyes immediately went towards the ceiling. The stranger briefly glanced at your tits with a pained expression before following suit with Sam, mumbling something about how surely, all of this just had to be a weird dream. Dean, however, took a good long look before a smile whisked across his lips.

"When'd you get this done?" He whispered with an appreciative tone.

"Couple of months ago," you replied, smiling back at him. "You like it?"

"Like it? Sweetheart, I-"

"Guys," Sam interrupted, eyes still glued to the ceiling.

"Right, right, sorry." You reached for the man's hand who jumped when your hand touched his. "Go on, dude. Just put a hand on it so we know you're good."

The guy made no move to do much of anything, so you gently lifted his hand to your chest until it made contact with one of your piercings. "Just a dream, just a dream," the man mumbled with his head still turned upwards and away from you. "Maybe I'm a shapeshifter too," Dean mumbled, his eyes on the man's hand pressed to your boob.

You grinned in reply. "See? He's good." The man's hand showed no signs of injury as you lifted it off of your chest again. "Now how about I get dressed again and we go find the actual son-of-a-bitch?"

Version 2 Sure, people warn against getting body alterations done under the influence of alcohol all the time. It's sort of an unwritten rule, the kind of common-sense one is just expected to have. But as booze tends to do, it prefers to link up with mischief instead. Common-sense is just so boring. Such a goody-two-shoes. The nay-sayer of all genius ideas. And clearly, that's what getting your nipples pierced is: a genius fucking idea.

At least so you thought last night while out and about with Jo. The two of you had teamed up in an effort to drink your shared sorrows away: you'd just come back from yet another hunt during which you'd felt belittled by Dean yet again, and Jo was in the midst of another heated fight with Elle about being allowed out for a hunt at all - again. Each dismissal had lit the fire of injustice within the both of you, and while your first few drinks were meant to quench the flames, they had the opposite effect, acting like fuel instead.

Soon, both you and Jo were slurring your respective rambles about your 'suppressors'.

"Just isn't fair." Jo slammed her fist down on the bar top, earning herself a quick glance from the bartender.

You shook your head woefully. "It isn't. They just don't see us. It's like we're invisible. Or babies. Invisible babies."

Jo pointed her finger at you. "Exactly! Invisible babies. But we're not! We're grown women, god dammit! Women! Would babies have boobs like that?" Her finger swayed from your face to your cleavage, followed diligently by the guy who sat two seats down from you. Your chin dropped to your chest as you glanced at your own boobs before meeting the eyes of the sleazy guy two seats over. A sluggish grin crawled over your lips. "Nice, aren't they?" A toothy grin appeared on the other patron's face. "Sure are, baby, sure are," he called back, causing you to look at Jo with triumph in your eyes. "See? He agrees too. No baby would have boobs like that."

Jo nodded, her head bobbing up and down in a wobbly fashion. "Cause he sees us. Not like my mom. Or Dean." She scowled, then downed another shot the bartender had dutifully lined up for you at your signal.

"We jus' gotta find a way to show 'em," you slurred. "Way to show how badass we are. Hmm." You nodded to yourself like you'd just said the most profound thing.

A moment of silence passed between you two girls before Jo's face suddenly lit up. "I got an idea."

As genius as it had seemed to you four shots in, the next morning, you weren't so sure anymore that piercing your nipples had been a genius move. It did look amazing (one glance in the mirror in the morning after waking up confused why your nips felt so damn sore had convinced you of that easily), but you still needed some convincing about the practicality of it as you got dressed and put on your clothes for the day. It proved as your first challenge: a bra was immediately out of the question after feeling how tight the material pressed against your sensitive and raw skin. You threw on a large, comfy t-shirt instead and paired it with an even larger sweater. Oversized clothes to the rescue.

As expected, your drinking spectacle of last night didn't go unnoticed by either of the boys. Sam's "Whoa, you look rough" got quickly followed up by a dry snort from Dean at the sight of you. "Jesus, you and Jo empty half a liquor store or something?" You only grumbled something unintelligible as a response while you fixed yourself some coffee from the small breakfast spread your motel offered.

While you nursed your coffee, Dean and Sam made a plan for the day. Their mission yesterday had been a bust - the empty factory had, in fact, not been the hiding place of the shapeshifter that the three of you were after, which left it still roaming about. You didn't partake in the planning process, partially due to your hangover, but mostly due to the fact that you were still hung up on your exclusion. For your own safety. Dean's reasoning had felt like a punch in the gut. Did he still not trust your abilities?

"Hey." You were pulled back to the present by fingers snapping in front of your face. "You with us?" Dean's eyes were searching your face as you zeroed back in on him. You grunt for a response had one of his brows raising, but he didn't comment on it, instead pulling you aside when the three of you headed out towards the parking lot.

"Are you okay?" You knew that look. Dean's scrutinizing gaze roamed over your face to look for the subtlest of clues. You'd made your protest heard loud and clear yesterday, and you read the subtext in his question with ease. Are we okay? You inhaled deeply as you stalled to answer. You were still upset with him, but you didn't have it in you to discuss his views on your involvement during hunts in your current state. Your head was pounding too much, and your nipples faintly felt like someone was holding a lighter to them. "Yeah. I'm okay," you responded with a sigh. Dean looked like he was about to object, clearly not buying your answer, but just then, Sam called out for the two of you.

Genius fucking idea. You gritted your teeth as you sprinted after the shapeshifter. Of course you'd end up in action the one day you didn't wear a bra. As if chasing supernatural beings wasn't challenging enough, you were now forced to awkwardly press your arms under your boobs for support as you ran down the damp alleyway. Because of your makeshift-bra, your gun was holstered between your hands right under your tits, aiming directly forward. It wasn't a safe way to run, nor a comfortable one, but you didn't have time to ponder either of those facts. The shapeshifter was getting away, and you couldn't let that happen.

You saw it turning a corner a couple hundred feet ahead of you and dashed after it, tits squeezed together in front of your chest like they were your main weapon and not your gun. The fabric of your shirt rubbed over your freshly pierced nips like sandpaper on wood and you had to bite the inside of your cheek to keep yourself focused on the monster chase instead of the pain.

When you skid around the corner, you found the shapeshifter trapped between yourself and Dean on the other end of the back alley. It's head spun back and forth between you and him like a trapped animal and for a moment, it felt like time had frozen. Your eyes briefly flicked over to Dean, whose brows were furrowed in concentration and determination, and he shook his head at you ever so slightly.

The flush of anger inside your belly was hot and instant, yet before you had time to react, a loud shriek echoed through the alleyway and the shapeshifter launched itself your way.

It all happened so quickly that you acted more out of instinct than on rational thought. The kicks and blows to your body barely registered before a gunshot rang through the air and the monster's lifeless body dropped to the ground in front of you.

You stared at it, panting. The adrenaline coursing through your veins felt like fire being pumped through your body. It took you a second to register Dean's voice through the ringing in your ears.

"Hey. Hey. You okay? Are you hurt?" Hands were gripping you by the shoulders and you were spun sideways. You blinked a couple of times as Dean came into focus in front of you, concern etched into every fine line on his face. "Talk to me," he urged as his eyes feverishly scanned you up and down. You shook your head faintly, still dazed. "I'm fine." You'd taken down the shapeshifter yourself. You'd done it. You'd kicked ass.

A slow smile spread on your face as the realization set in. You had taken down a shapeshifter all by yourself. In front of Dean, no less. Now he had to see you.

"We got it, Sammy. Yeah. It's done. Uh-huh. No, she took it out." Dean glanced over at you as the two of you walked back to his car. You were still smiling smugly ear to ear. Dean looked like he'd been forced to eat a lemon whole.

"What d'you think? Of course not." He growled into the phone. You could imagine Sam's question without having heard it. You let her come? Dean had ordered you to stay in the car of course. But then you'd seen the shapeshifter run by. Who in their right mind would've stayed in their car at the sight?

"Uh-huh. Yeah. We'll meet you back at the motel." Dean hung up. Anger radiated off of him in quiet, shaky waves. Under any other circumstance, you would've been quaking in your boots right about now, wary of the storm that was about to come your way any second now. But not today. Today, you were flying high, fueled on by your win.

Dean settled into the driver's seat, but didn't start the car. Here we go, you thought. Speech incoming. Yet it didn't come. When you turned your head to look at him, you didn't find Dean staring you down, but frowning at your chest instead.

"You're bleeding."

Your own forehead crinkled up as you looked down on yourself. Two deep red spots were starting to bloom on your chest, right where... Crap.

You quickly slung an arm over your chest, covering up the two spots. "I, uh. It's fine." Though it felt anything but. You hadn't noticed it in the moment, but the monster had apparently struck you in the chest, right across your boobs. Your fresh piercings had seemingly not appreciated that move in the least. Now that you had been made aware of it, your nipples felt like they were on fire, pain striking through each boob like a spasm.

Dean's jaw tensed. In one swift move, he leaned in and plucked your arm from your chest, exposing the bloody spots on your sweater that were slowly growing in size. You could see his frown deepening as he examined your injuries. Warmth crept up your neck and into your cheeks.

"It's not fine. What did he do? I can't see puncture wounds. Why are you bleeding?"

Whatever triumph you had felt just a moment ago had ebbed away and was now being replaced by the icky sticky feeling of shame. You turned your head so he wouldn't see the embarrassment coloring you the same color as the spots on your sweater, but Dean spoke your name in a soft, yet stern voice.

You knew he wouldn't let this go.

You sighed deeply. "I got my nipples pierced." Your voice was barely above a murmur. Heat blazed from your cheeks and pain throbbed in your wounded nips.

For the first time ever since meeting Dean Winchester, he did not hit you with a quick comeback. The lack of a snarky reply was so jarring that you looked back at him, despite the embarrassment shining bright in your cheeks like Rudolph's nose.

Dean's face seemed to be frozen in a state somewhere between surprise and amusement. You stared at him for a moment before scoffing. "Just get it out." His eyes flickered from the bloody spots on your torso to your eyes and back, the faintest hint of a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "Get what out?"

"The comments. Whatever you're dying to say. I know you've got some stupid shit already cooking in that brain of yours," you scoffed, and as if on cue, mischief glinted in his eyes.

"Actually," Dean started and flung a casual arm across your seat. "I think it's kind of hot."

The lack of reprimand caught you off guard so much that you could only stare at him.

"But I am gonna need details. Was it Jo's idea? Or yours?" Dean flashed a widespread grin at you and started the car. He was clearly enjoying himself.

You could only roll your eyes and groan.

"You know, I'll have to check when we're back. See how injured you are. Patch you up," he continued, the grin now stretching so wide that it almost went from ear to ear.

"Not a chance, Winchester."

Dean only snickered in return.

Divider credit: @saradika-graphics

[padfootagain]

Love in Verses (XL)

Chapter 40 : ‘Where I does not exist, nor you, so close that your hand on my chest is my hand, so close that your eyes close as I fall asleep.’

Hi! Here is a new chapter! Alright, things can’t be perfect all the time, let’s spice things a little bit…

I hope you like this chapter! Tell me what you think!

****

Pairing: Hozier x fem!reader (professor!AU)

Warnings: slow burn, angst, hurt, hurt/comfort, tooth-rotting fluff in later chapters, some scenes in later chapters will have heavy sexual themes even if it’s not explicit nsfw description, so no minors here

Summary: Your life seems perfect. You're engaged, your career is thriving as you become an assistant professor at Trinity College, and this Andrew Hozier-Byrne you're sharing an office with seems to be a nice guy you hope to call a friend soon. Life seems to be smiling at you... until everything goes sour. When your fiancé breaks up with you, your perfect world shatters. And when your colleague also gets his heart broken soon after, your shared office seems to be a curse rather than a blessing. But Andrew seems determined to mend your broken hearts... Will things finally go according to plan?

Word Count: 2408

Masterlist for the series – Hozier’s masterlist – Main masterlist

Sonnet XVII

I do not love you as if you were salt-rose, or topaz,

or the arrow of carnations the fire shoots off.

I love you as certain dark things are to be loved,

in secret, between the shadow and the soul.

I love you as the plant that never blooms

but carries in itself the light of hidden flowers;

thanks to your love a certain solid fragrance,

risen from the earth, lives darkly in my body.

I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where.

I love you straightforwardly, without complexities or pride;

so I love you because I know no other way

than this: where I does not exist, nor you,

so close that your hand on my chest is my hand,

so close that your eyes close as I fall asleep.

Pablo Neruda, One Hundred Love Sonnets

It was kind of ridiculous how stressed you were about this.

After all, you had already met Andrew’s parents once, and they were nice. Really nice.

Still, for your first encounter, you were a friend of Andrew’s… not his girlfriend… Yeah, that was why you were so nervous now. What if they thought you were nice while there was nothing but friendship binding you to their son, but now that you were more than a friend to him… what if they changed their mind about you? Besides, you had never met his brother Jon. Maybe he wouldn’t like you at all…

You were surprised at how relaxed Andrew was, though. He had been so worried when he asked you to come over to his parents for dinner, but now that you were getting ready to leave, he seemed to be nothing but merry.

At least, his shenanigans brought smiles to your face.

“Stop it! God, you’re insufferable…” you complained, playfully pushing his hand away as he started poking at your ribs again. “Babe! It tickles and I’m trying to get my hair done!”

“Your hair looks perfect already.”

“It’s not…”

“Kiss me… please… please… please… kiss me…” he stressed each demand poking your shoulder.

“God…”

You laughed, turned your head so he could kiss you. But then he kissed you again, and again…

“I need to finish getting ready, or we’ll be late.”

“We can be late. I’m always late. They’ll worry I’m sick or that their son was replaced by some kind of clone if I don’t arrive late for dinner.”

You rolled your eyes.

“I want to make a good impression.”

His smile grew from playful to tender.

“They already like you.”

“They barely know me.”

“They like you.”

“You’re just saying that so I won’t panic.”

“No! I’m not! They like you!”

“I’ve never met your brother, he can’t like me.”

“He does. I talk his ears off about you, and he likes you already.”

You couldn’t refrain a smirk.

“You talk about me all the time, huh? Someone’s a little obsessed…”

You expected a scoff, or something of the kind. But Andrew nodded.

“Of course, I am. How could I not be obsessed with my gorgeous girlfriend?”

You shied away as you put your hairbrush down.

“Alright, I’m ready to go.”

You called for Elwood, and he came running into the hallway, happily moving his tail as you scratched his head.

“We’re going, buddy! Come on!”

But Andrew stopped you, holding your hand in his so you would turn to him again. He was smiling.

“I’m really happy you’re doing this, honey. Thank you, for everything.”

You weren’t sure what he meant by everything. It sounded like you were doing him a favour, when… you were the grateful one for letting you into his life.

“There’s no need to thank me for anything…”

“There’s a need to thank you for everything.”

He kissed you before you could protest, a long, tender kiss that made you lose track of what you wanted to say.

Andrew loved you so fucking much.

He knew that he had an idiotic, adoring look on his face when he turned to you having this simple thought, but he couldn’t help it.

You were eating your meal, complementing Andrew’s mother on her cooking, and he recognised that happy glimmer in your eyes, the one you had whenever you ate something truly delicious. In all fairness, Raine’s cooking was delicious. He watched as you sipped on the beer John had offered you earlier, making you laugh as he paid his debt.

And you fitted so well in his life, in his home, in his family. You listened as Jon talked about his next project, this short film he was preparing, and your interest was genuine when you asked him a question.

Andrew lost track of the conversation for a moment, as he stared at you, a stupid smile on his face. Seeing you like this, in this house where he had spent most of his childhood, where he had gathered so many happy memories, where he had lived such challenging parts of his life… this home that meant so much to him… and it felt so right to have you here, being a part of his world…

You turned to him, laughing, something teasing in your eyes, mischief painted all over your features. God, he loved you, he loved you so much…

“Hmmm… sounds very interesting indeed, Jon,” you nodded, and Andrew forced himself to listen to the conversation again, because of how dangerous your tone was.

“I’ll get the pictures,” Jon offered, and Andrew’s eyes grew round.

“Don’t you dare!”

“You were so cute as a child,” Raine argued, clearly torturing her son on purpose, and Andrew glowered at her.

“Mom…”

“I want to see the photos,” you added.

“Nope. Absolutely not!”

“Why not? I’m sure you were adorable.”

“I was not.”

“Actually,” John intervened, “I think we still have the tape of that concert, you know the one…”

Andrew stopped breathing, looked at his family in horror.

“Absolutely not!”

“What are you talking about?” you asked, and Andrew narrowed his eyes at your excitement.

“There was this one time Andrew sang in public… that didn’t go so well,” Jon explained.

“No…” Andrew moaned, and he knew you were struggling not to laugh.

“What happened?”

“My balls dropped,” was his only explanation, and you were gone in a fit of laughter.

“At the worst moment,” Jon laughed as well. “That timing…”

“It was horrible,” Andrew shook his head, but he struggled not to laugh too. “I started to cry, and had to wait for an adult to come and remove me from the stage.”

“No…” you breathed, your laughter gone and a sadder look on your face now. You reached for his arm. “I’m so sorry, that must have been terrible.”

“Yeah, it was awful…”

“What did you do after that?”

“I had to do it again the next day.”

“Oh no!”

“I did well though. On the second try.”

Raine looked around at the empty plates left on the table, had a mischievous smile of her own.

“Well… I think you two should show Y/N some pictures, while Andy and I clean up the table and get everything ready for dessert.”

“No… Don’t show her anything too bad…” Andrew groaned, burying his face in his hands.

“Come on! I want to see what baby Andy looked like,” you insisted.

“I was horrendous as a baby.”

“Of course, you weren’t. You were a baby, you had to be cute.”

“I wasn’t. I was terrifyingly ugly.”

You shook your head with an amused smile.

“I don’t believe that for a second.”

Raine stood up and you were stirred away from the table by Andrew’s father and brother, who were determined to show you old photographs of your lover. And Andrew pretended to argue, but he didn’t really mind. He was entertained by their shenanigans more than anything else.

He and his mother cleaned the table, and he was loading plates in the dishwasher when Raine turned to him with a bright grin.

“I’m really happy for you and Y/N, Andy,” she confessed in a quiet voice, to which her younger son answered with a bright grin. “She truly is lovely… Smart, kind, funny…”

Andrew’s heart fluttered at her words, he averted his eyes to hide his blush and the grin he couldn’t refrain.

“Yeah… she is,” he nodded.

“And you seem happy with her.”

“I am. I really am, mom.”

“I knew she’d be good for you… when we met her at your reading session, the other day… I just knew. I knew she’d give you the kind of love you deserve.”

“Thanks, mom…”

“How serious is it, then?”

Andrew took a second to answer, to gather his emotions into coherent words. He thought about downplaying it all, about hiding how much he truly felt for you… but Raine was his mother. He could never hide anything from her…

“It’s… it’s pretty serious, yeah.”

She looked at him, expectant. His heart grew warm as he thought of you.

“I… it’s very serious,” he nodded, his voice quiet, one of tender confessions. “I really want this to work. She’s… she’s amazing, and… I’m so happy with her. And I… I love her. Like… I was already in love with her before we actually got together. And I… I only seem to love her more and more every day. I… I keep on falling in love with her again and again, and I don’t really know how that’s possible, like it seems endless even though I already have so much love for her, but… yeah… She’s the real thing, that’s for sure. I… I love her so much…”

Raine grinned, something emotional glistening in her eyes, rested a soothing hand on her son’s arm.

“Your heart chose well. She’s amazing. Your father and I appreciate her a lot, already. And it’s obvious Jon is taking a liking to her too.”

“I’m glad.”

She tilted her head.

“But?”

Andrew heaved a sigh, she could always read him like an open book…

“But… I’m worried sometimes… like… I’m worried that my relationship with Sam could slow me down. I’m… I’m worried that I might fuck this up because of it…”

Remnants of your fight flashed before his eyes.

“I’m just… I’m worried. I’m scared, too. I’m scared she’s going to leave. I’m scared she’ll realise she’s too good for me…”

But his mother shushed him.

“Don’t let these thoughts hold you down,” she admonished. “Y/N loves you dearly, it’s obvious. You simply need time to adjust in this new relationship, to accept that this is how you’re supposed to be loved. You’ll make it through that struggle, I know you will. You just need time. And so does Y/N.”

Slowly, he nodded, trying to believe her words.

“I just… I’ve never felt like that before, even with Sam,” Andrew confessed, looking at dirty plates he had already set in the dishwasher, although he couldn’t see any of them. “That’s… overwhelming.”

“It means you truly love her. It means that’s the kind of love that’s truly worth fighting for.”

A knock on the kitchen door startled them both, and you appeared carrying empty glasses.

“Just so you know… Jon has found the tape,” you chirped happily, while Andrew’s eyes grew round and he blushed in embarrassment.

“I’m going to kill him…” were Andrew’s only words before he exited the kitchen, but he couldn’t refrain a smile as the sound of your laughter mingled with his mother’s.

You left his parents’ home late that night, you were sleepy and let Andrew drive you home. You were still merry and full of love, and Andrew adored the sight. You had promised Raine and John to come again at the next family dinner, in two weeks. Andrew could not have been happier…

When he pulled over before your building it was past midnight already. He waited for you to kiss him goodnight, but you lingered in his car.

“This was a lovely evening. Thank you again, for inviting me.”

“Thank you for coming.”

“I really like your family a lot. They’re so nice. It’s obvious where your kindness comes from.”

“Thanks.”

You reached for his hand.

“Stay with me tonight.”

Andrew chuckled.

“Tempting offer, but I’m too tired for anything to happen. And I have a reputation I’m trying to uphold. Can’t disappoint you so quickly in our relationship.”

You rolled your eyes.

“I meant, for sleeping. Like… sleepy sleeping. Not sexy sleeping.”

He hummed, refraining a laugh, but you spoke again. You looked adorable like this, your eyelids heavy with exhaustion, tenderness putting a soft smile on your lips. And the touch of your fingers upon his was gentle, grounding.

“I like that. Falling asleep beside you. Please, stay.”

How could he say no to such a plea?

He turned off the engine, and you grinned at him.

He followed you outside his car, inside your building, in the elevator, in the corridor, in your hallway, in your bathroom, in your bed. He let you guide him in these places that already felt familiar, he knew he would have followed you anywhere. Wasn’t that crazy? To love someone so deeply? So soon?

You snuggled into his side as soon as you were both under the covers, as soon as the lights were off. In the darkness, he could only hear and feel your presence, in the rhythm of your quiet breathing, in the dip of the mattress under your weight, in the warmth of your body holding his in a safe embrace, in the gentle squeeze of your hand around his fingers.

He closed his eyes, let your nearness draw him to the verge of sleep, but then your voice came from the darkness. In this bed with you, he wasn’t so sure where his body ended and yours began.

“I heard you talking with your mother.”

Andrew���s eyes snapped open.

“I didn’t mean to… I was just carrying empty glasses to the kitchen, to get a refill for your brother and your father. But I overheard your conversation and… I couldn’t bring myself to interrupt. I… I feel a little bad about it.”

“You didn’t do it on purpose,” he conceded, although he felt uneasy knowing you had overheard his confession.

“I… I love you, Andy. I love you so much. I… I feel the same as you do. And I’m… I’m also really scared that this is not going to work. But I trust you. And I know that you’re better than Frank. It might take a little time, like your mother said, but… I want to believe that we can love each other the way we deserve.”

“I’m going to love you the best I can.”

“I know. And I will do the same.”

He kissed your hair, heard the quiet breath you let out as your body melted against his.

“And… honey?”

“Hmmm?”

“You do deserve me. You’re such a good person, Andy… you’re amazing. I’m already happier with you than I’ve ever been with Frank. Don’t be scared of that, okay? I love you so much, baby.”

“I love you too. And I’m happy with you as well.”

The promise he made you was one he knew he could never break.

“I’d do anything to make you happy, Y/N. Anything at all.”

[thefallennightmare]

Noah feels the familiar darkness creeping inside of him. The only thing that can help is you, his roommate. But when you’re not home, Noah is beside himself on what to do.

CW: depression, vulnerable Noah, slight confessions of feelings.

Noah couldn’t breathe. It felt as if hands were wrapped around his throat, nails digging into the tender flesh to cut him open. Expose all of his dark and deepest thoughts. The ones that continued to drag him under, down to the depths of his mind. The place he was so desperate to stay out of.

He’d done so well at staying out of there. Noah was happy for a long while, living with some of his best friends while on break from Bad Omens.

Living with you.

You and Noah had always been close but never more than just roommates. Much to his dismay. He wanted more. Craved to be the one that held you when you slept or have his lips graze over every inch of your skin.

Yet he knew it could never be that way because you didn’t feel the same. You only saw him as a friend.

Maybe that’s why he was finding himself in this darkness, looming over him like a cloud ready to burst with thunder. His feelings mimicked the weather outside and rain violently thrashed against the windows of the living room.

The weight on his chest was crushing now and Noah rubbed a hand over his sweater, trying to work out the feeling like a knot. He wasn’t entirely sure where this darkness came from, he woke up feeling this way. The guys were all gone for the day, including you. You were busy at work which meant you weren’t able to be on your phone to see the few texts Noah sent you.

No one was able to pull him out of the darkness like you could. Your scent, your soft touch through his hair, and the way you always cracked a stupid joke to make him laugh.

The time on his phone told him that you wouldn’t be home for awhile yet so as he knee bounced while he sat on the couch, Noah came to a rash decision on something he thought would help even a little.

Taking the stairs two at a time, he reached your room quickly yet hesitated with a hand on the door knob. You were very private on the things behind this door. You didn’t like it very much when the guys barged in without knocking. As much as you loved your roommates, you loved your privacy more.

“Fuck,” Noah choked on a breath when the phantom fingers around his throat tightened. “Sorry, Angel.”

Pushing the door to your room opened, your familiar scent of peaches brushed along his nose and he could already feel the weight lifting. While every morning you made your bed and tidied up your room, you didn’t today because you had woken up twenty minutes before your shift started so you practically sprinted out the door with nothing but a wave over your shoulder to the guys.

Now Noah stared at the unmade bed, your forest green comforter and black sheets almost inviting him in. Yet he stood with great pause, unable to commit. He wasn’t sure what the plan was once he stepped into your room, he just needed to feel your presence. It still wasn’t enough though.

Noah needed to feel you around him.

Kicking off his slippers, he slipped underneath your covers and felt his soul practically vibrate. The grip around his throat was still there albeit less than before. He could start to feel air fill his lungs again. With a burden so heavy he couldn’t hold himself any longer, Noah succumbed to the darkness.

He wasn’t sure how much time had passed when he felt the bed dip next to him, a warm hand brushing away the hair from his face. Words were mumbled together as he buried his face deeper into the silk pillowcase.

“Noah,” an angelic voice breathed against his ear.

Weak eyes fought to open but there was still a lingering feeling of dread wrapped around his throat so he was unable to see the beauty before him.

“Shh,” cooed the angelic voice. “Don’t try and wake up for me, Noah. Rest. I’ll be here when you wake.”

Arms wrapped around his side to his stomach while a face buried into his back.

When he awoke again, the rain had seized and the sun was bursting through the curtain of your room, blanketing both of you in warmth. And when Noah turned over in bed, he was almost shocked to see you already staring at him, a lazy smile on your face.

“So my bed is more comfortable than yours, huh?” You teased.

Sheepishly Noah buried his face into the crook of your neck to hide the crimson that covered his cheeks. This wasn’t anything new between you two, holding each other. Which could be why he felt so strongly for you. But you had to feel the same way, right? With how tightly you were holding onto him, dragging a hand up and down his large back.

“I’m sorry,” he apologized. “I know you don’t like people in your room when you’re not home but I just-I didn’t know-.”

You hushed him with a brush of your lips over his forehead, your heart beating wildly in your chest.

“Noah, you’re always welcomed in my space. Especially when you’re feeling like the world is caving in. I will never turn you away. You mean so much to me,” the words just tumbled out of your mouth.

The second you stepped foot into your room after a long and hard day of work to see Noah asleep in your bed, you let out a choked sob. He needed you just as much as you needed him.

Mochi eyes glanced up at you and it took every ounce not to kiss him. Noah, however, could feel the magnetic pull growing between you. Yet he didn’t want to push too far, especially in his state of mind. While the heavy weight on his chest had seized, the darkness still lingered.

Instead, he rolled to his back so now it was you laying on his chest, your leg hooking over his hips to keep him locked in place.

“Thank you,” Noah started, letting out a long breath. “For letting me sleep in your bed. I can’t explain it but the familiarity of you, your presence or scent helps calm me.”

Leaving a tender kiss to his cheek, you hummed. “Anything for you, Noah. I’m always here for you.”

[kayaani]

HOW DO THEY REACT AT YOUR COMPLIMENT (ft. Childe, Kazuha, Ayato).

cw: fluff, possibly OOC, possible spelling mistakes, GN! reader.

𖤐 Childe, the 'bad guy' like he likes to describe himself. Sure, he's a harbinger and does some things just to feel that adrenaline and the feeling of a good fight, but that doesn't change the fact that he has been nothing but a sweetheart to you. He even helps you with money when you don't have enough mora for something!

One time, when walking through the streets of Liyue, you couldn't help but compliment his good looks when the sun hit his blue, perfect eyes. He smirked and chuckled, but didn't deny it. "Oh, so you just noticed my charms, huh?" He teased you playfully, showing that confident side he is proud of. I don't think he would compliment back, but he would surely tease.

𖤐 Kazuha is such a sweetheart! At first you couldn't believe he was a samurai, for how calm, collected he seemed to be, and much less a wanted criminal in Inazuma. That was the surprising part. Nonetheless, that didn't change your perception of him.

He is a kind soul, mature, with really good poetry skills that melts your heart every time he talks using them. It was inevitable to compliment that and let him know —even if you were sure he had heard that a lot of times before by different people — how much you liked those things about him.

When you complimented him, he smiled kindly at you. "Thank you. I believe nature doesn't carry any burdens or hatred, so I follow its example. I'm glad to hear you feel at ease around me"

(ignore the fact I really struggle with his words)

𖤐 And last but not least, Ayato. Could be considered a role model because of his collected, refined and intelligent demeanor. He's busy most of the time (political and cultural) and doesn't show his face outside a lot. That didn't stop you though.

You are captivated by his natural charm, his elegance in everything he does and that pretty face of his. So what if you complimented him? Wouldn't be too bad, and surely he would take it to heart.

At one time, when you were drinking some tea with him, you looked into his calm eyes and, with a polite smile, complimented him, gaining a chuckle and smile. "Oh, you flatter me, really. Must be something I was born with, and you sure have your own charm too, if you allow me to say so". He's humbling, but doesn't deny it. He makes sure to say something about you too and would feel more than he allows himself to express.

[deesseshesca]

PAC : How will your pregnancy go ? (18+)

Just reminder ... that ... I AINT THE ONE !

PERSONAL READING (SALE) (LINK)

FIRE TO THE MOON

FUTURE LOVE + SEX DOUALA = 40$ (2for1)

DOWN TO MY CORE

CHARACTER UPDAPTE + LORE DUMP = 40$ (2for1)

PILE 1

SONG : THAT GUY - Tyler the Creator

P H Y S I C A L

Chariot, 3 pentacles (reverse)

First thing, first Pile 1,you don’t understand the impact that your pile had on me. When you are going to be pregnant you are still going to achieve everything you set for yourself with great happiness. You are going to be so lucky pregnant, you have no idea. Everyone that will rub your stomach, if you allow it, will whisk a bit of luck their way. All this because you understood a very important soul lesson from the very beginning of the journey. Your breast is going to be so full, y’all may jump 2 cups bigger but Lord are they going to be extremely sensitive. Your nipples are always going to be hard. Y’all we suffer from extreme hunger (that’s what I call it) like if you don’t eat, you will actually lose your mind. The uber better not be late because you will blow up their phone with no shame. The craving are so weird and are not just in the privacy of your house, you will have the audacity to ask restaurants to fix their dishes to your weird liking. If a restaurant refuses to change, then you are leaving and throwing a fit in your car until the next food stop. You guys may develop asthma in your pregnancy or have frequent asthma attacks. When I make a list of everything that’s going to happen to you, you may look at your screen with a stank face. The reality is you are not going against your body. You know it is useless. You know there's a price to pay for everything and you are ready to pay the price necessary for your ultimate miracle. You don’t hate your body nor do you get mad at yourself for reacting. There's no such a thing as over-sensitivity or over-reacting, there's no such thing as too intense or moody or even too horny. Everything is good to create the greatest gift given to you. You don’t waste your time comparing, hating or sad, you prefer finding innovative ways to deal with your sensitive tits, your food cravings and bad breathing habits. Breaking any obstacles in our way, achieving so much and radiating love every step of the way. 

L I F E S T Y L E 

Devil (reverse), knight of wands 

You have an extremely cut-throat energy with people around you. You won’t mind blocking anyone that does not understand your boundaries. No warning, they fuck up, bye bye. People that didn't support you during pregnancy but are trying to find their way in when the baby is born … are going to hit a closed door. You don’t play this game. From day one, any older person trying to come in and tell you what's up better be ready to be disrespected because you don’t need people's opinion to weigh you down in the most vulnerable moment of your life. The midwife wants to get smart, not only is her access revoked but if you have time you may press charges ( as you should because there are too many mean nurses in this world). Your man is even scared of you as he should. He eats too loud, looks at you the wrong way or even eats something that makes you sick … the lethal tone is coming out. Your tone is so soft but your words actually annihilate. I heard : You: ‘’ Can you please chew even louder maybe then I will found my 14 reasons since you are my 13 one ?’’ all in a calm tone and a killer gaze. 

PREVIOUS READING

2) Wanna know the love story the universe has for you? 💫 In 8 parts, I spill all: first meet, first kiss, confession, sexy time, and more. Don’t miss out! 👀💖 (LINK)

3) For ALL DECEMBER get 2 readings for the price of 1 : LINK

PILE 2

SONG : Tranquility - Jack Harlow

A completely reading was necessary for you guys. Don't worry, Chérie d'Amour is nothing bad.

Full of love reading

PILE 3

SONG: Hello,Hi - Little Smiz

P H Y S I C A L

8 swords, page of swords (reverse)  

You're going to find out you're pregnant with a sneaky link. You know damn well, they ain't ready for the commitment and so is you. So you are not mad. You are not even stressed when you are going to find out because you know you have options and it’s not really a baby until you choose it to be. You are going to announce it to them and they are going to have a panic attack and still be extremely polite and kind with you while telling you they can’t be a father.  Which you know … you just wanted to tell them. I have a vision of someone sitting in the dark and actually analysing what your life has become. Then suddenly a change of perspective which is weird because you never been nothing but pessimistic in you life. I hear the script of Alice in Wonderland: ‘’ They can always paint them red

What an odd thing to say’’. 

You are going to keep the baby. Is important to note that your finances are excellent, you have your degree, you have your own car, like you are set. The reality is you have been set. The only thing stopping you is yourself and you are going to realize that once again when you are starting to live your dream life. The only reason you are stuck in the same place is because you don’t want to leave. You are like a chain animal. Is not because you cut the chain that they will actually leave. I see you moving, changing jobs, everythings happening quickly and nothing is chaotic. Which makes sense since you have had the plan. You know what to do but you refuse to take the leap for yourself but you did for your child. You will meet somebody new that’s going to be your dream partner. The fact that you are pregnant is a blessing and not a burden. They are going to jump quickly in the father role. Y’all may not live together at first because you will have signed the lease before meeting them but I see an organized agenda regarding the baby. They will stay over for weeks to take care of the baby. The baby will forever know them as their dad. Y’all are going to have an amazing and active sex life. He’s going to put you to sleep. You guys will often fuck twice a day. 

L I F E S T Y L E 

8 pentacles, Hierophant

The reason for why you're having your dream life after a baby or while pregnant is because you are the one late. Life has been waiting for you to make a move. The perfect friend group, the perfect job, the perfect partner, they all came because you made the final decision and followed through with it. So all your blessings are going to fall upon your life at once. You have unlocked a door that’s been waiting for you. That’s why everything goes extremely smoothly. Also there's no self doubt coming from you since you are so focused on creating the perfect cocoon for your bundle of joy. Self doubt breaks the flow of blessings. All’s well that ends well ( tout est bien qui finit bien). 

PREVIOUS READING

2) Wanna know the love story the universe has for you? 💫 In 8 parts, I spill all: first meet, first kiss, confession, sexy time, and more. Don’t miss out! 👀💖 (LINK)

3) For ALL DECEMBER get 2 readings for the price of 1 : LINK

[sparxyv]

WIP tag game!

(again muahahaha 😈 thank you for the tag @heylorrain!)

i love these little threads because i always have SO many WIPs that i get impatient to share ..

MILENAAA MY GIRLL i love you forever muah muah

no idea if i'm ever going to finish these but.. we'll see

yule ball nonsense ^^ i feel like im spoiling my own posts with this.. pls guys you don't know all the context stick with me !!! (+bonus points if you can guess who the characters in the third one are)

SUPER BLURRED BECAUSE ITS A SURPRISE .. 🙌🙌

+ little snippet to a three part pre-HL mousey fic?? 👀

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

Athol was absolutely certain he was the most miserable soul to ever set foot in Hogwarts.

     The rain drummed against the window, as if trying to mock him with its relentless rhythm. He flopped back onto his bunk with a theatrical sigh, arm draped across his face. “I don’t get it,” he muttered to himself for probably the fifteenth time that morning. He peeked out from under his arm to glance at the little collection of odds and ends on his windowsill—a bracelet, a scraggly flower, and a wooden snake that still had a chip in its tail from a very unintentional duel. His first few years at Hogwarts had felt like it was packed with endless laughter and ridiculous adventures. Now? It was like staring into the soggy bottom of a cauldron someone forgot to clean. Thunder rumbled in the distance, the kind of dramatic punctuation that perfectly matched his mood. If life were fair, it would strike right outside his window to really drive the point home. Instead, the storm just kept drizzling on, indifferent to his misery.

It wasn’t like he was entirely friendless. There was his bunkmate, sweet Duncan Hobhouse, who always had a kind word and a dozen excuses to avoid trying anything remotely exciting. But Duncan didn’t fill the gap left by Sebastian, Anne, and Ominis.

The fight—the great betrayal as Athol had taken to calling it (in his head, anyway)—had turned his fourth year into a gray slog. He had hoped, maybe foolishly, that things would blow over. Instead, Sebastian seemed determined to act like Athol was a ghost haunting the Hogwarts castle.

At first, he’d been immensely angry with Sebastian. How dare he blow up after one small comment, then completely ice Athol out of his life? As if he were nothing? And now, although the anger at Sebastian’s dramatics still remained, he just missed his friends.

They hadn’t even talked since the second week of the school year - it’d now been 37 days. 

Athol groaned, throwing his head back. What could he even do about the whole situation? He couldn’t apologize, no. His pride wouldn’t let him, and he didn’t even believe Sebastian deserved an apology in the first place.

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

(I HOPE THIS MAKES AT LEAST A BIT OF SENSE LOL.. i feel halfway illiterate when writing 💀💀)

no pressure tags! : @myokk @choccy-milky @syaolaurant @traceyc-uk @diana-bluewolf @dwightschrute11 @rypnami @iatnen @lycowarrior @dom1re @siboom777 (ANDD anyone who wants to join!)

[f1thememp3]

2024 f1c rec wrap up

just a little collection of some of my fave fics i've read this year. not all were published this year, but i read them in 2024 and this is my list. so. anywho. endlessly grateful for all the lovely talented writers on our corner of the internet <3

🏠 this is not a dream by @officialmood daniel ricciardo/max verstappen [45k words]

When he was awake, Daniel couldn’t summon the pain. He knew it had hurt, and badly, but awake he couldn’t feel it. But when he was asleep, he could.

🏆 the winner takes it all by worlds_okayest_goalie daniel ricciardo/max verstappen; fernando alonso/lance stroll [series]

In each team, drivers vie for the position of First Driver, clawing their way through the points. If you're not the First, you're the Second, beholden to whatever form of mentoring the First decides upon. If you're even unluckier, you're the Third and the team principal will deal with you. Idealistically, the system is meant to create more parity in driver training and form strong team connections. In reality, Firsts get the glory and power and what happens next is entirely in their hands.

🖤 island of doubt by @redpaint carlos sainz/lando norris [1.8k words]

Love is the hardest thing he’s ever done. Lando puts his heart in Carlos’s hands and just trusts him not to drop it. Carlos feels filthy, feels himself contaminating Lando with every day he doesn’t say something. He wants to shake Lando’s shoulders: can’t you see what I am?

🌿 did not finish by @nobrakesdown daniel ricciardo/max verstappen [20k words]

He can’t freak Max out, Daniel tells himself. Nothing’s wrong, he’s overreacting. He’s hormonal and fixating on the smallest things. Or, a treatise on getting what you didn't know you wanted, and what happens when you lose it.

🔗 i feel so much, i feel so numb by @f1-stuff charles leclerc/carlos sainz [22k words]

As long as he’s known what a soulmate is, he’s known his soulmate’s name. Carlos. Scrawled along the delicate skin of his right wrist.

💫 off the golden by @lilyrizzy daniel ricciardo/max verstappen [12k words]

Max knows he takes a lot. Daniel gives him what he wants, often without Max having to ask for it. Max wants to know what Daniel wants. What he would ask Max for if he trusted Max the same way Max trusts him.

🍝 questo è amore by @no-regrets-only-memories daniel ricciardo/max verstappen [14k words]

Daniel is happy. He lives in Italy, has made some decent friends, and owns the cafe of his dreams. It's a really great life, all things considered. So what if he doesn't have some blockbuster romance? [ENTER Max]

👨🏼‍🤝‍👨🏻 the being unknown by @pinesolprincess daniel ricciardo/max verstappen [24k words]

Exchanging is rare enough that sometimes it seems more myth than reality. And it is not always welcome. People are out of practice with it, uncomfortable with the unexplained and uninterested in something bigger than their understanding, something they cannot control. Daniel thinks it sounds like bullshit anyway.

💋 warm mouth (kind soul) by @wormeo-and-juliette fernando alonso/lance stroll; lance stroll/everyone [45k words]

Lance is the kind of guy who’s never wanted for anything in his life. Nothing material, at least. He’s been given a lot over the years and it means he’s good at giving in return. He knows how to see what people need before they ask for it. He knows how to give it to them in a way they’ll accept. (People don’t really like Lance but they like sex. Lance is going to Pavlov the shit out of them.)

🤝 perturbation theory by @ultrasofts charles leclerc/sebastian vettel + mark webber [19k words]

“Who is the first guy you ever slept with?” Sebastian sighs and screws his eyes shut, like he’s bracing himself for disaster but can’t see another way out. “It was Mark.” “Mark who?” Charles asks automatically, before his brain catches up. He blinks. “Mark Webber?” Sebastian nods, eyes still closed, still flushed, and Charles stares at him. “What the fuck?” he asks. “You hated each other.” * Charles learns about Sebastian’s past and thinks about his future.

🧶 holding me tonight by @the-ships-to-rule-them-all daniel ricciardo/max verstappen [10k words]

As soulmates, Max can feel Daniel's emotions. Nothing about the 2022 season changes yet everything does. or five times Max reaches out to Daniel and one time Daniel is the brave one.

💍 pull the car over (to find some rest) by @magicalrocketships daniel ricciardo/max verstappen [25k words]

Verstappens don't cry, and Max learned his lesson well. He'd barely even cried when his fucking husband left him a fucking note that said you're the best person I've ever met and I'll love you forever but this is killing me and didn't leave a fucking forwarding address. You can't fucking divorce someone who disappears off the face of the fucking planet. 

[eww-y-tho]

I updated my 'Everything I Have Ever Shipped' post on my profile (the pinned one) to include the story of the sneaky way that my sister trolled me while binging Arcane because it's a really funny story and not a lot of people have read my post and I think it deserves to be put to light becuz wtf.

So first of all, when my sister pitched the idea of binging Arcane in the car while visiting her, I was hesitant at first because LoL is actually cancer, but she convinced me (for her it was going to be a rewatch). I had a peripheral understanding and knowledge of the show. Like I knew Jinx, I knew that there was a lesbian sex scene, and I knew about jayvik, but nothing in detail.

In the car, she goes into specific detail about how she did not like Jayce. Because "all the problems come from him," apparently. I was fishy on Jayce based on her opinions of the character and really tried to see her perspective.

And I will be honest, I did not like him s1 ep4-9, and I really took Jayce and Mel's character arcs at face value. He was a good man with good intentions, but the "Jezebel" character in Mel would take him away from his goal, and he would become a narcissistic prick. But I also didn't hate him. He was a good character and none of his actions seemed too dickish (except the "you didn’t say they were from the undercity" line.)

I was pleasantly surprised by season 2, however, and I started to see what she was talking about was misguided at the same time.

The thing is, I never felt upset at Jayce for s2 act 1 & 2 and trusted that he had a good reason, and he became much more sympathetic in my eyes after ep7. AND THEN I started becoming a jayvik truther in ep8 because of the Mel to Viktor transition in the cave (like wtf), and the homoerotic fight scene, and I did a little soul search deep dive into jayvik.

I completely flipped my opinions on Jayce and she was deeply upset and it was hilarious because at the end of ep7 I said "I still don't get why you hate Jayce" and she like actually sighed and was disappointed.

I remember a specific moment where she went: "EVERYTHING THAT HAPPENS TO VIKTOR IS JAYCE'S FAULT, VIKTOR TOLD HIM TO DESTROY THE HEXCORE, BUT DID HE LISTEN? NO! IF HE ACTUALLY LISTENED TO VIKTOR FOR ONCE, NONE OF THIS WOULD'VE HAPPENED!" And then I was like, "THAT'S NOT HOW A STORY WORKS, THO! HOW WAS HE SUPPOSED TO KNOW THAT WOULD HAPPEN? HE JUST WANTED TO SAVE HIS PARTNER'S LIFE!"

I would also like to point out that I was wondering who the mage guy was that saved Jayce the entire series. It was in the back of my mind for the entire time, and I was really confused about him because I didn't see a character that could really qualify for his power set.

So while I was watching ep7 crying my eyes out becuz of timebomb, memeing with 'MEANWHILE...' spongebob references every time they cut to Jayce, having my mind go a million miles an hour with theorizing and like having a breakdown, I was just in a mentally strange place.

So when the mage showed up in the "I won't fail" scene... I saw the slow zoom in, the power set involved with the hexcore blob, and all the little tiny hints, and I screamed out loud, "IS THAT VIKTOR!?!"

... And she looks me dead in the eye and says "no" in the most monotone voice I have ever heard from her.

And I believed her so much at that point that I didn't even question it. So then episode 9 comes along, and Viktor is revealed to be the plot twist. I was so pissed because I was right the entire time, and SHE made me believe that I didn't understand the story. She fucking CACKLED.

I love her, but that was a betrayal, man.

Once Jayce said, "All I want is my partner back," I was a complete jayvik shipper, and recently, she's changed her tune to Jayce after I completely bombarded her with pro-Jayce propaganda, so that's better, at least, lol.

[mi---amor]

Where The Heart Is

A//N: Chef Saltbaker x Self Insert OC

°•°•°•°•°

The funny thing about going off to explore the world was, at the end of the day, there was no place like home. 

Chalice had roamed the isles of Inkwell for several centuries; infinite freedom to witness the passage of time and march of progress at the cost of not being able to experience any of it. However, her postmortem predicament had recently relented and she was now free to venture on two solid feet wherever she desired. 

The change was nice. It was new. It was exciting! 

And most thrilling of all, it was tiring.

All credit went to accompanying the two knucklehead cup brothers on whatever adventure they embarked. Dueling grown adults, monsters, and Satan himself was no longer a pastime, thankfully. They could finally just enjoy being kids. 

As much as Chalice loved those two to death (quite literally) and would gladly take on a million brawls for them, a girl her age needed time to herself. Two whole weeks of romping around Isle One left her sore from straw to toe, not to mention incredibly homesick. 

After a prompt but sound boat ride, Chalice twirled and skipped towards the humble town square of Isle Four. The day was drifting into late afternoon, meaning the bakery would be closed, but her pops would be on the lookout for her.

He always waited down by the old well, and once they caught sight of each other, he'd open his arms and smile big. Chalice would smile even bigger and rush up into his awaiting softness. It was probably the best feeling since returning to life, she'd say. 

That and gobbling down a plate of her favorite fig and almond tarts he'd make as a welcome home present, just for her. They'd go inside and Chalice would chatter on about her two weeks of non-reckless-but-maybe-rowdy fun while her father listened with interest, happy she had returned safely, happy she was happy.

And Chalice would be happy- as soon as they were reunited. 

The cup girl crossed the cobbletones before a bare spot at the well’s side. She craned her neck and hopped around like a twitchy bird. Her father wasn't where he usually sat right at the front. He had to be somewhere, though- hopefully not at the bottom of it. But no, he wouldn’t let falling down an old well stop him from missing her first day back.

Chalice's excited heel taps slowed as she checked the entire circumference of the area. She even called down the dusty stone reservoir, just in case. Nothing but her confused little voice came back up to greet her.

She pouted, but shrugged off the slight disappointment. Her pops was a busy guy. The best baker in the land. He often made time for her, but Chalice knew he wouldn't always be able to. She’d been an adult before, hadn't she? There had been many occasions where she may or may not have wished to get the hassle of living and dealing with so many responsibilities out of the way. She understood the struggle perfectly. 

Anyways, despite being returned to the mortal realm as a child, she was ‘a smart little cookie crumble’, as her pops liked to put it. She could figure things out for herself. 

Chalice shouldered her backpack and scurried toward the bakery, which doubled as their house with an upstairs floor. The sun dripped down the windows like melting golden butter. A chalkboard sign at the door read: Closed. Chalice checked the knob. Locked. Not a problem. Fishing a key from a necklace hidden under her collar, she unlocked the door and stepped right in.

The warm, cozy smell of home embraced Chalice, and if she could have given it one in return, she would have. She'd missed the place terribly. Something about Saltbaker’s bakery had tugged at her soul when she first explored it as a specter. She knew now it was because it had been built over a mausoleum, with enough astral energy to draw in powerful beings of the past like herself. Nowadays, it was just magical in its everyday simplicity and, most important of all, safety. 

Maybe it was where she was meant to be all along… although luckily not in a tart tin.

The storefront had been left neat and tidy, same as before she’d left. Given how much he prided in presentation, Chalice could believe her father had missed the time while cleaning or finishing some other end-of-the-day matter. 

She wouldn't hold it against him. In fact, she pitied the poor guy. He often got swamped with work and cheerfully waved away any concern he could clearly use.

Because of this, Chalice had suggested he at least entertain the idea of hiring more staff. Like any good daughter, she helped when she could with chores. But after the whole… Wondertart fiasco… the chef didn't seem entirely comfortable having a child carry out hours of unpaid manual labor in his workplace. 

Chalice appreciated the consideration immensely; he'd learned his lesson and was being the best dad he could be. But still, he was through with community service. He didn't have to toil alone as a consequence anymore. Hopefully he’d heed her advice and quit being such a big stubborn dummy. 

Heading toward the stairs of their living quarters, Chalice overheard an unmistakable belly laugh coming from the kitchen. She paused and listened closer. The radio was on too, playing a merry melody. 

Her pops loved listening to music while he cleaned. 

Grinning, the cup girl rushed behind the counter and through the swinging door, ready to tackle him for his forgetfulness, which she would easily forgive over a plate of fig tarts. 

And there he was, leaning back against a counter, stirring a full wine glass. Chef Saltbaker was chuckling in a noticeably giddier pitch with a rosy hue dusting over his glass features. Across from him stood a stranger Chalice couldn't see since they were turned away, but it seemed to be a woman.

“Pop?” she asked, not hiding her slightly bewildered tone. 

The chef caught sight of his daughter through a distorted view in the wine glass raised to his lips. He choked into it, and after a brief coughing fit, he seemed to suddenly speak fluent gibberish. 

“Chalice! Ah-! I- um- you- drat! Today!”

“Don't get your cap in a twist,” Chalice muttered, stepping slightly closer to the guest who had an apparent VIP pass to loiter in their kitchen. She didn’t mean to crinkle her nose at them, but she felt like she had a good reason to. “Who’re you?”

The woman was short and stocky, a little on the chubbier side, and had a semblance to one of the pastries in the bakery's many display cases. She was kinda pretty, which wasn't a good thing as Chalice tried filling in the blanks of whatever this oddly intimate situation was while awaiting a proper explanation. 

The woman cleared her throat, looking toward the chef as he hurriedly set down his cup and switched off the radio. 

“She doesn't speak English, I’m afraid,” Saltbaker said. He went and knelt beside Chalice, seeming a bit sheepish. “I had hoped you might’ve overheard the news since word travels at the speed of light around here, but I digress.” He then held out a palm toward the mystery woman. “This is Amor, my new baking assistant! Amor, esta es mi hija, Cáliz.”

“Oh! Mucho gusto.” Although stiffer than the peppy chef, the woman offered a hand and smile to the girl as Saltbaker translated.

“She says it's nice to meet you.”

“Yeah, I got that,” Chalice said. Without returning the gesture, she stared at the woman, the wine glasses, and then her father. She waited, letting the awkwardness sink in perhaps a bit too cruelly, before asking, “So… she’s just an assistant?” 

“Of- of course.” Chef Saltbaker’s not-very-convincing stutter was out of pure confusion. He had no idea what on Earth his daughter was trying to insinuate, but a child's imagination was terrifying and he wasn't about to start guessing.

The Amor lady mumbled something Chalice didn't quite catch. She was familiar with Spanish as well as a variety of other languages, and although she didn't exactly remember how, she knew her past life had something to do with it. 

There was an oddity to how Amor spoke. Her Spanish had a twang, like a Southern accent. Chalice had never heard it before, nor had she even seen the woman on any of the isles in her two entire lives. It was strange, and unfortunately just made her plain weird. Worst of all, now she had her father acting all strange and weird and secretive too. 

Sensing a souring atmosphere, Chef Saltbaker calmly replied to Amor while ushering Chalice out of the kitchen. As soon as they were alone, like they were supposed to be, he knelt and cupped his daughter’s shoulders. 

“Oh, sweetheart, I completely forgot about walking you home! I'm real sorry, really I am. I've been busy showing Amor the ropes, see. She's not just new to the job, she's from another archipelago entirely.”

“Huh,” Chalice said. “That explains it.” 

“Explains what?”

“She's… well. Different.” Chalice made sure to pick her words to sound judgment-free. She didn't really know why she had the urge to do the exact opposite… but she had a good guess. Ever since the Wondertart incident a year or so ago, she had a rightful amount of wariness for anyone who seemed too friendly on the outside. 

And that was pretty much everyone. 

Chef Saltbaker was a firsthand witness, if not the guilty culprit. She wasn't going to get over the instinct anytime soon, but at the same time he really didn’t wish for her to feel that way constantly. 

“Yes, she is different,” he said. “But different doesn't mean bad.”

Chalice rolled her eyes. “I knowww. C'mon, I ain’t five.”

“Then why the suspicion?” 

Her father seemed to genuinely want to know, and Chalice hadn't even noticed that was the exact emotion she felt. Having it pointed out aloud made her sound… pretty harsh.  

“I don't know,” she admitted. “Maybe because she randomly showed up? And last I checked, you don't need a bottle of wine and mood music to chit-chat.”

Chef Saltbaker hadn't the foggiest clue as to where his daughter had pulled such an assumption from. It bordered on impudent, but he didn't think admonishing her would solve the issue. He believed there could have been a better way to present the situation. And darn it, presentation was his thing, he knew better. 

“Sweetheart, part of getting to know someone is to make conversation and be polite,” he reasoned. “Where we come from, pouring a drink is a gesture of hospitality as well. Amor is bright and has a great attitude, a marvelous culinary background, and she's leaped at the chance to work here… even with knowing about my- ah. Record.” 

Chef Saltbaker dodged the sore subject and waggled Chalice's shoulders with great enthusiasm. “She's proven to be a great help in only a few days! I'm ahead on my orders and she could take over a few tasks to free up my schedule! Isn't that what you were telling me I needed?”

When he put it like that… not to mention looked so happy while telling her about it… maybe Chalice had been too hasty. She'd said it herself; she knew nothing about Amor. While there was still a persistent fear that she had other intentions, there was also a chance she could have been an angel who'd dropped down to their doorstep. 

Meanwhile, the chef had paid his daughter's wishes mind. Didn't that also mean he was thinking of her? To make more time? Because he cared? 

The little cup girl twisted her foot behind a calf, downcast. 

“Oh,” was all she could manage to say. 

“Oh?” Chef Saltbaker gently teased. He chucked Chalice under the chin, meeting her guilt-ridden gaze with an endlessly loving one. “I wouldn't hire any random person off the street, y'know. Part of the ongoing interview process is assessing if she'd work well with another helper around, should I need you. You're a much bigger priority to me than anything else, dear, even my old bakery, and if things don't work out for whatever reason, I'll see to it. Alright?”

A warmth lit in the depths of Chalice's soul at his assurance, lifting her eyes and mouth high. Playfully, she flicked her father's nose. It made a funny spring door stopper noise. 

“Since when did they start calling you Chef Sappybaker?” she asked. 

Her father retaliated by pinching both her cheeks and squishing them around. “Oh, since I had the pleasure of looking after you, cookie crumble. You won't hear the end of it, I promise. Ah! Before I keep being a forgetful fool…”

Chalice gasped in delight as her father flourished a hand and summoned a sparkling plate of fig tarts from thin air. Steam swirled above them, and the dollops of cream glistened like freshly fallen snow. 

“Amor helped make these when I told her you were coming home today,” Chef Saltbaker said. He meaningfully tilted his head toward the kitchen. “She's shy at first but opens up to kindness. She's looking forward to meeting you. Now, I won't force you to make conversation, but I do request you be polite. Do you think you could introduce yourself a bit better?” 

Chalice stood straight and nodded like a steadfast soldier. Her father couldn't resist giving her cheek another doting pinch. 

“That's my girl.”

Amor waited in the kitchen, every second tightening like a vice around her heart. Had she said something wrong? Looked the wrong way, worn the wrong clothes?

She hated social cue guessing games like that, but sadly that was the only way she could afford to try and fit in at the moment.

Maybe it was the clothes. It was always the clothes. She could wear what she wanted back home, back where no one batted an eye at a woman with short hair wearing pants. But here, everyone noticed. If your hair was long and your pants were short, they noticed. If your hair was cut and your dress flowed to your ankles, they noticed.

You could work harder than anyone, get more cuts and tears and dirt stains all over those blouses and jeans, and still, all they saw was how badly you stood out like a sore thumb.

Amor leaned anxiously from foot to foot. She could only hope that the little cup girl saw her like her father had. See she was trying to make a good first impression and not seem weird or mean on purpose. First impressions meant everything these days when so many others were next in line to snatch a job.

The kitchen door swished open and Amor turned, hands fidgeting in place of being nibbled on. That had been fast. Had they talked about her? Was her financial fate really going to be set in the hands of a child? 

Holding onto her plate of goodies, Chef Saltbaker gave his daughter a push and wink in Amor’s direction. Chalice smiled at the visibly apprehensive woman and held out a hand. 

“¡Hola! Soy Cáliz. Es un placer conocerte, Señora Amor, y agradezco que estás ayudando a mi papá con nuestra panadería.”

The little girl's tooth gap adorably complimented her earnest expression and perfect Spanish. Any suspicion Amor had initially sensed was long gone, having been swept aside to reveal something much sweeter and approachable like she'd seen in the head chef himself. 

It was excellent customer service in the making if Amor had ever seen any. To top it off, the sound of her native language alone made her feel right at home.

“Gracias, señorita. Me siento muy bienvenido aquí.” 

[riddles-n-games]

Last Christmas I Gave You My Heart

Pairing: Avery and Jameson Summary: Avery has finally gotten downtime to actually settle for the holidays. It's her first Christmas at Hawthorne House and with a new boyfriend. Jameson and her are still figuring things out; can they help each other through the muddle of the last few weeks? Length: Moderate Story Type: One Shot

Tag List: @hathorneheiress, @whatsamongus, @xoxo-lenah, @charsoamerican, @thecircularlibrary, @elif-in-wonderland

A/N: Hey guys, Merry Christmas! It was about time we actually had some holiday set fics and what better way than to dedicate it to the couple that started it all? I was inspired by one passage in Secret Santa from Games Untold and so we go back in time to where it all started for Averyjameson, at the most wonderful time of the year. Enjoy! Warning, it's looooooooooooooooooonnnnnnnnnnng.

  “I keep thinking about last Christmas. You were still recovering from the coma.”

    Last Christmas, we hadn’t played Secret Santa.

    Last Christmas, we’d been together, but I hadn’t been his and he hadn’t been mine the way we were now.

ONE YEAR AGO

    It seemed to be his wish and purpose to mask this expression with a smile; but the latter played him false, and flickered over his visage so derisively, that the spectator could see his blackness all the better for it. Ever and anon, too, there came a glare of red light out of his eyes; as if the old man’s soul were on fire, and kept on smouldering duskily within his breast, until, by some casual puff of…

    My throat was starting to feel dry so I carefully reached over for the water bottle. Xander’s Holly Jolly Hot Chocolate Marshmallow Surprise was already halfway gone and I wanted to savor it for as long as I could. There were also only four marshmallows left, to my dismay. In addition, while my plate of sweets was still relatively full, it was already devoid of my favorites, chocolate cupcakes, even though Libby had added extras for that very reason. They never stood a chance and now without them, the plate looked agonizingly empty.

    I unscrewed the cap and brought the bottle to my lips, never taking my eyes off the page.

    … passion, it was blown into a momentary flame. This he repressed as speedily as possible, and strove to look as if nothing of the kind had happened.

    Once hydrated, I put it back down and grabbed a cookie, stuffing it in my mouth before I grabbed another sticky note, taping it on the little desktop attached to the recliner. It was convenient compared to my usual tactic which was using a textbook as a hard surface to write on when I didn’t want to sit hunched at my desk. Grayson would have argued there was no difference where I sat as both resulted in bad posture. 

    I finished off the page and kept the book splayed open as I jotted down my newest annotations for the chapter. When done, I put the sticky note in the free margin and slid the book toward me, flipping to the next page.

    For some time, I continued on with no annotations since there wasn’t anything of note. 

    Or was there, as it rather seemed, a circle of ominous shadow moving along with his deformity, whichever way he turned himself? And whither was he now going? Would he not suddenly sink into the earth, leaving a barren and blasted spot, where, in due course of time, would be seen deadly nightshade, dogwood, hen-bane, and whatever else of vegetable wicke-

    A gasp escaped me as the book toppled off the desktop from my lax grip but luckily my arm reflex was fast enough to grab it before it fell to the floor. But, of course, that still came with a price.

    “Damn it.” I lost my spot on the page. I quickly leafed through familiar territory until I got to the newer stuff I just covered. Thankfully, I realized that I had stopped just a page or two after the start of a new chapter. When I found it, I searched for keywords from what I remembered reading then leaned back in the chair to get comfortable. Before I continued reading, my eyes drifted to the fire in the hearth to the garland decorating the mantle and the antique clock sitting atop it. 9:15, the clock read. It was getting late. 

    I sighed. The day had been long; Alisa occupied me with more papers relating to my emancipation alongside briefings for the Hawthorne Foundation and upcoming events. However, even with all the paperwork, I somehow managed to help Libby bake cupcakes and other holiday desserts, got roped into Xander’s Christmas experiments, and also had some shooting practice with Nash. After it all, I escaped into the circular library to one of the adjoining rooms for some relaxing and to get on with my English reading. 

    In part, I knew that all of this was to keep me distracted from my traumatic ordeals from the past few weeks. While I was pushing for it because I didn’t want to be wallowing in those memories and all the questions that came with them, I was still tired. I needed this. 

    My gaze drifted to the rest of the room, to really take it in for the first time in hours. There was a Christmas tree in the corner, bookshelves lining the walls, a large desk in the back, and another sitting area. It was cozy and with all the Christmas decor, it felt like a Christmas card came to life. Mom would have love- No. Don’t think about it. It’s just gonna hurt you. I blinked back the sudden onset of tears and took steady breaths to keep from crying. But it was too late; my imagination was conjuring up projections of my mom sitting in the opposite chair, making her move on a chessboard, teasing me about doing homework when I could have been taking an epic nap. 

    I shook my head and swiped at my eyes as I leaned over to grab another cookie. I munched on it slowly and turned back to the book. 

    … wickedness the climate could produce, all flourishing with hideous luxuriance? Or would he spread bat’s wings and flee away, looking so much the uglier, the higher he rose towards heaven? “Be it sin or no,” said Hester Prynne bitterly, as she still gazed after him, “I hate the man!” She upbraided herself for the sentiment, but could not overcome or lessen it. Attempting to do so, she thought of those long-past days, in a distant land, when he used to emerge at eventide from the seclusion of his study, and sit down in the fire-light of their home, and in the light of her nuptial smile. He needed to bask himself in that smile, he said, in order that the chill of so many lonely hours among his books might be taken off the scholar’s heart. Such scenes had once appeared not otherwise than happy, but now, as viewed through the dismal medium of her subsequent life, they classed themselves among her ugliest rememb-

    “Avery?” I heard my name being called and I jolted. 

    The question was followed up by a tentative knock on the door. “Heiress?” Jameson.

    “Come in,” I called out.

    The door knob turned and a resounding click later, a dark-haired Hawthorne was standing in the doorway smiling softly at me. He stood there for a beat, awkwardly shuffling his feet and scratching his side as if waiting for a signal or something. Odd. I beckoned with my head for him to come in. It took him another second before he actually made a move. 

    I closed my book and turned to properly face him, flashing him a bright smile in greeting. “Hey, barely saw you today. What have you been up to?” 

    Jameson didn’t reply but clearly what I said put a little more spring in his step. As he got closer, a familiar glint appeared, the kind he got when he was thinking up something clever and his usual smirk came back. When he was finally close enough, he spoke, taking on a poetic tone.

    ‘‘Twas a few nights before Christmas, when all through the House, not a creature was stirring, not even the heiress on her couch.”

    “Not a couch but go on.” He grinned, undeterred.

    “But every so often she’d look to the clock and run a hand through her hair, anxious to know if her devastatingly handsome boyfriend would soon be there.” I rolled my eyes but didn’t miss the way he punctuated the word boyfriend. It sent a shiver down my spine. 

    “She was snug as a bug by the hearth with a book that needed to be read, while thoughts of his potential mischief that day dashed through her head. With an exasperated sigh and a hot chocolate sip, she continued to read all the while thinking how she was going to give him lip, when all of a sudden he burst through the door with his usual swagger, looking rather dapper,” he winked when I snorted at the sheer arrogance, “and sat in the chair beside her to ask her what was the matter.”

    With that end of verse, he plopped into the opposite chair all the while looking terribly pleased with himself. Note to self: learn how to curb this man’s ego. While I admired it at times, if we were going to be in a relationship, I was gonna have to bring his smugness down a few notches. I eyed him carefully.

    “Jameson Winchester Hawthorne.”

    “Avery Kylie Grambs.” The bastard dared to give me that shit-eating grin of his.

    “What did you do?” And more importantly, what are you hiding? 

    “Nothing.” I arched an eyebrow. He chuckled and shook his head. “Can’t believe even for a second that for once I might not have been up to trouble?” My eyes narrowed at him suspiciously.

    “Prior instances dictate otherwise.” And Oren was just outside for back up reconnaissance. His expression morphed into a guilty smile that looked anything but remorseful. I pursed my lips and sighed loudly. “What am I going to do with you?”

    “I don’t know. Hopefully run away with me on a grand adventure.” 

    “Mm. Sounds delightful. But unfortunately, as you yourself said, I have a book to read.” 

    “What is it?” I held the book up. “Scarlet Letter? You really can’t resist Hawthornes, eh?”

    “Not my fault the school curriculum is also obsessed with you,” I grumbled.     

    Jameson chuckled again before growing quiet. Just like that, the playfulness died down and we settled into silence. Both of us turned to look at the hearth. The pleasant crackle of the flames coming from the fireplace and steady ticking beat of the clock were the only ambient noise in the room.

    None of us said anything for a little while but it felt like its own eternity, like a tension was building but not an uncomfortable one. I peaked at Jameson from the corner of my eye, noticing that his smile had faded and looked rather solemn. His eyes glowed an inviting emerald in the firelight. He looked deep in thought, about what, I didn’t know. Suddenly, I picked up on movement coming from his end and it was getting closer to me. Looking down, I realized it was his hand reaching out to my right one that was lax on the armrest.

    Though I saw it coming, I still startled a bit when I felt his fingers brushing against mine. “Sorry.” 

    He didn’t say anything, just continued to do what he was doing and gently took my hand in his. I let him. Looking up, I saw that Jameson had scooted over to the edge of his seat, his eyes trained on our hands as he gently rubbed circles into my skin. I watched him and felt like I couldn’t breathe, terrified to break the spell of this moment, whatever this was. 

    “How are you?” His soft voice broke through my mesmerized daze and realizing he was now looking at me, that rare sincerity in his expression made me feel shy under his gaze. My heartbeat seemed to slow, making each cycle feel like the tension would burst any second and the rush of blood flowing was loud in my ears.

    “I’m okay,” I finally said. He didn’t seem satisfied but didn’t push. Jameson then brought my hand to his lips and kissed my knuckles but it made me wonder. What are you doing? Why are you?

    This wasn’t the first time where he dropped the pretense and turned tender. In the last few weeks, there have been many times where, when we were alone, he’d randomly become gentle and considerate, throwing me for a loop. It was certainly unusual.

    And surprisingly, even though it was happening often, it caught me off guard every time, more so than anything going on these days. We’d been together like usual but my brain still hadn’t really given the thought we were in a relationship until he did something like that. I hadn’t really processed our new status in general with all that’s been going on but I clung to our normalcy like a lifeline. 

    “She told him there was nothing to worry about, but he could see hovering over her head was a gray cloud of doubt.” He looked at me with arched brows. “He was there for whatever she had to say, even if it took an entire day.”

    I smiled and squeezed his hand. “Really, I’m okay. I’m just tired and I don’t want to think about the last few weeks at all. Actually, I was planning on asking Alisa if she could find me a good therapist in the New Year.”

    “That’s good,” he said encouragingly.

    I sighed before continuing, “Thank you for being here for me. I know it’s not your usual style but…” 

    “Maybe, but, I told you that if you chose me, this would mean something. You mean something to me, Avery. I just didn’t know this-us-would happen so soon. That was definitely something I wasn’t counting on.”

    A smirk played on my lips. “Oh, but you were expecting us to get together at some point?”

    Jameson smiled sheepishly. “Only if you could resist my charm for so long.” I guffawed as he rolled his eyes.

    “No, but um, you’re right. I didn’t expect this either. If you had asked further down the line, I don’t think I would have said no then either. But what happened, happened; we can’t change that,” I paused and took a breath, “And honestly, I wouldn’t want to. As cliche as it sounds, we do have our future ahead of us and we get to make decisions together now.”

    “Wow, just wow. That was so motivational. Would you mind skipping a grade so you can be valedictorian for my class next June?”

    “I mean, I could but I don’t think Xander would like that very much.”

    “And why does my little brother take precedence over your boyfriend?” There it was again but I didn’t focus on the way the word made my heart skip a beat.

    “Because he’s already gotten attached to my hip and betrayal would break his precious little heart. Oh, and, he’s promised to stash away 10% of Mrs. Laughlin’s blueberry scones if I swore allegiance to his robots.”

    “Fair enough. That’s Xan for ya,” Jameson said fondly.

    “Yeah. And what about you, Clement Moore? How much of that did you have rehearsed?”

    He smiled shyly and looked down. “Just the first bit. I can make up stuff pretty quickly. The old man used to read to me when I was younger and I liked rhyming words so when I couldn’t sleep I would try to make up as many rhymes as I could until I did. I also used to sleepwalk.” My eyebrows shot up. “Yup. I know.”

    “I can imagine that. Sounds like a very Jameson thing. I-”

    “Um, Heiress, sorry to cut you off but I have to ask you something.” I blinked, taken aback. “Be honest with me, does it bother you when I refer to myself as your boyfriend? I saw the way your eyes widened.”

    “I mean, aren’t you?” A nervous laugh came out as I wasn’t sure what to say.

    “Technically, yes. But I’m not forcing you to call me that or anything. To me, what’s important is what you’re comfortable with.” My heart swelled. This boy.

    “I actually hadn’t given it much thought. With all that’s been happening, whenever our, um, this flits through my head, I would freak out and my mind just didn’t know how to address it. Not that I don’t want to think about us but it’s like a visceral reaction which I hate.” Fearing I said too much I shut my mouth and with bated breath, waited for his reaction. I expected disappointment but was relieved to find no judgment. No, I was met with understanding instead. He squeezed my hand this time and I exhaled slowly.

    Moments like these made me forget he was just Jameson and reminded me that he was now… something more. We became “official” with a coin toss and a kiss then continued doing what we always did. Everybody knew we were together, we didn’t make that a secret, done deal. There just wasn’t a label. And yet, I still felt it in every way that mattered. 

    Except, I wasn’t sure how to express that to him as he was wary about his brother despite Grayson backing off. However, we had to figure other things out between us first. I may be ready to be bold but being bold and wanting to be bold were two different things.

    Part of that was becoming his type of reliable with loyalty being highest priority. I couldn’t change what Emily did, that I knew, but I could help him move past that. Jameson had been doing that for me so much recently and I couldn’t be more grateful. It was hard to believe but the boy who’d played at indifference was also the one who came with his heart on his sleeve, offering to dive headfirst if I chose him. 

    This was the same boy now holding my hand, checking on me because he was worried. What a difference two months made. I knew immediately behind the facade, there was a compassionate young man with a good heart, he just didn’t believe it. I hoped I could change that. 

     With that in mind, I turned back to him. “To dispel any misconception right now; I know what I was saying yes to. I did think about that. A lot. Being with you, being together has been such an important part of my day and it keeps me sane. And-” My voice cracked suddenly, surprising me. “And…”

    “Heiress?” My eyes landed on his concerned face, darting over each feature and taking in the details until I was swept into the memory of the day with the postcards. 

    The hidden letters. The words of longing. Toby. Sarah who was actually Hannah. The same forward as backward. Hannah, oh Hannah. My mother being described through someone else’s eyes. Their love story. Me wanting to be left alone. Jameson being the first to address that. Jameson ushering everyone out. Jameson leaving. Jameson giving up on a clue. Jameson putting aside the mystery. Jameson. Jameson. Jameson.

    A sob escaped me. My hand flew over my mouth in reflex. I didn’t understand why but another one followed and another. Jameson was in front of me in a flash. His arms wrapped around me as my vision blurred with tears. The last thing I did register was my nose pressing against something hard but covered by a soft material and my eyes fluttered shut, letting the tears fall.

    I didn’t know how much time passed but the tears felt never ending, my cheeks were sticky and the sobs coming out were shallow gasps. Images of my mom danced through my mind, especially those from the last Christmas with her. That morning she’d been wearing a robe over her pjs with a steaming mug of coffee in her hand, hair loose for once, all excited as she slid a wrapped present over the counter toward me. It had been a book I wanted, special edition, which I scolded her for but Mom had laughed it off, bringing me into a hug and wishing me a Merry Christmas. But most memorable had been her luminous smile, so joyous and bright that it made our home feel that much warmer. I inhaled sharply as my eyes snapped open.

    “Mom. Mom. Why’d you have to go?” I whispered, breathless. 

    “She was sick, Heiress. But I bet she fought every day to be with you.” 

    “Mom, I want my Mom! I need her. And Toby, Toby… H-He left me and I needed him. He left me. I needed him. I told him not to go but he said he couldn’t stay. I-” I hiccuped a sob and felt another onslaught coming.

    “I know. I’m sure he wanted to but your safety means to him more. It does me too.” And just like that a fresh damn of tears broke through and I was dry heaving with the unrelenting heavy sobs that came wave after wave after wave. But through it all, Jameson never let me go.

    When I finally came to, I realized I quite literally used Jameson’s shoulder to cry on and the soft material had been his green cashmere sweater that was now soaked. As I swiped at my crusted eyes, I said, “Sorry about your sweater.” 

    He smiled and shrugged. “I don’t mind. It clearly served a good purpose.” That got him a weak laugh from me. Jameson slowly brought up a hand and wiped at a stray tear before leaning down to kiss my forehead. I watched him warily as he pulled away and frowned when I saw him pull out a handkerchief from his pocket. He used it to gently wipe at the tear tracks on my cheeks.

    Once he finished I brought it up. “Since when do you have a need for handkerchiefs, Mr. Darcy?”

    He chuckled. “Since I had to start offering to wipe away the tears of young ladies who have been most unconsolable by any other actions. Don’t worry, I don’t make a habit of stealing my brother’s brooding English gentleman aesthetic too often.” I couldn’t help but laugh too.

    “Are you feeling better now?” 

    I nodded. “Yeah. Just didn’t think I had that in me.”

    Jameson looked thoughtful for a moment before bringing his hand up again and caressing my cheek. I leaned into it. “You know, far be it from me to tell you what you do or don’t need, but I think you’ve needed to do that for a while. As you said, so much has happened in the last few weeks which your brain hasn’t had time to process and instead it just kept pushing it all aside until this moment.”

    “I guess. I just… I miss my mom. I’ve been getting better at acknowledging the fact that she’s, you know… gone after these two years but now all that we’ve found out, it just brought back that feeling so much stronger. And it feels like I’m back at square one.” He nodded solemnly. 

    “Yup, that seems to be the power of grief. There are days when I feel like the old man is still around and like he’s just about to pop out from any corner. Then I remember he’s not and I lose it. I go into the passages and just walk until I get out and go to the next one until I inevitably end up on the roof.” 

    I sighed. “I think she would have liked this place. As weird as everything is about you Hawthornes, this seems like her kind of place.”

    He huffed amusedly. “Hypocritical much?”

    “Potato potahto.” Cue eye rolling. “And I think she would have liked you too.” Jameson looked at me curiously. “Yeah, she would have loved your spontaneity. You two would get along. I think you’d enjoy playing our games and I can see her coming up with more. Although, you’d probably make me go crazy and wonder what I unleashed on the world.” 

    “At least I know I’d be on your mom’s good side.” I snorted. “Isn’t that a good thing?”

    “Maybe. But then she’d drop not so subtle hints and I would give in eventually because I know she’s right. Don’t think for a second I wouldn’t make you work for it.”

    “I don’t doubt it.” 

    “Good. But most of all, I think she’d love your compassion.” 

    There was silence and then a sharp inhale. “Heiress…”

    “You are good. You have a good heart, Jameson Hawthorne.” I didn’t leave room for arguing and narrowed my eyes at him for good measure. Whether he liked it or not, I had told the truth and I was going to make him believe it. “Say what you want but I’m going to repeat it until you believe it. I’ll do what I have to, no matter how long it takes.”

    As I finished my grand declaration, he had the audacity to smirk. “Anything?” 

    “Anything within reason,” I amended with a scowl. He chuckled and then rose up.

    “While I’m sure you will and I will more than likely accept defeat one day, there is something you could do for me.”     “And what would that be?” I asked suspiciously.

    “Well, with it being the holidays and since it’s our first Christmas together, would you mind joining me under the mistletoe, Miss Grambs?” I blinked as I watched him take out a sprig of mistletoe from his sleeve. 

    He went to the fireplace and somehow tied it to the garland. I got up from my recliner and walked towards him. As soon as I got within range, one of his arms wrapped around my waist and pulled me into him as my hands instinctively went on his chest. Jameson then brought his free hand up and brushed hair out of my face before cupping my cheek. I gazed at his face all the while and admired the way he looked in the soft glow of the fire. 

    “May I?” I nodded. Slowly, he leaned down and tentatively connected his lips to mine. I closed my eyes and got lost in it, entertaining the fantasy of the mistletoe kiss. I cupped the back of his neck and brought my hand into his hair. His hold at my waist tightened ever so slight. It was slow and gentle and perfect. Too perfect. But even so, just for a moment, I let myself believe we were perfect.

    When we parted, I opened my eyes and looked at him, expecting him to be looking back but his eyes were shut. “Jameson?” 

    “Hmm?”

    “You ok?” 

    “Yeah. Just taking it in Heiress.” When he opened his eyes, he wore a soft smile that made me feel shy again. He kissed the side of my head. “Thank you for that.”

    “Oh. You’re welcome,” I said bashfully. 

    He hummed a reply before speaking up again, “So, what did you think? Does it fulfill your expectation of a mistletoe kiss?”

    I shrugged. “I’ve never really cared about that tradition let alone thought about what it’d be like.”

    “Fair enough. But I do hope I set a standard for you now.” My eyebrows raised in bemusement. “Hey, you’ve got to let me have something to brag about.” I rolled my eyes. 

    “What I would like to know is where you got that sprig in the first place.”

    “All in due time, all in due time. Patience is an arduous virtue one must learn but conquer nonetheless.”

    “Stop philosophizing about something you don’t even have the skill set for.”

    “Well, miss, less questions, more kissing. Simple as that.” 

    “Practice what you preach then, Hawthorne. All I’m hearing is wor-” He shut me up with another kiss and then broke away just as quickly but hovered only a breath away from mine, teasing me before I put a hand to his collar and tugged sharply for him to get on with it. I felt him smile against my mouth and I stood on tiptoe, returning it in kind. We shared a few more kisses, a few playful ones and some just short pecks.

     The next time we pulled apart, we were both breathing hard. As Jameson recovered, he ran his fingers through my hair and smiled thoughtfully at me. “What?”

     He shook his head. “I was just thinking, despite all the shit that happened this year, turns out it was still a good one. You’re here with me even though I didn’t think that after…” I nodded in understanding.

    “Yeah, I get that.” What started out as a terrible year in the trenches with Libby and Drake turned into one of the biggest blessings even with its drawbacks. I had Jameson now and that was all that mattered. As I turned back to him, he pulled me into a warm hug. For a moment we stood like that, just enjoying the comfort it brought before he loosened his hold and broke the silence.

“With a mistletoe sprig and a firelit kiss, the couple started to reminisce, thinking about all that was and all that could be, knowing now they’ve truly become a we, there was room for new merriness and bliss while hoping it would be a very good first Christmas.”

    “Whoa there, Sir Moore. What happened to the rest of the poem?” 

    “Eh, we already got to the good part. Plus, it takes a lot longer when you’re the one trying to make up the rhymes to fit in with the preexisting structure.” 

    “I thought you said you could make stuff up on the spot.” I giggled until he muffled the laugh by pressing his lips to mine again. “Mmmh.” He smirked when he pulled away. 

    “Be my guest, Heiress. Let's see what you got.”

    I grinned at the challenge. “Once he had finished his part and she admired for a time in his art, her thoughts turned forward, past the New Year’s grandness and wondered how they would fill up their blank canvas.”

    His eyebrows rose in surprise. “Impressive. Not bad, not bad. But definitely beginner’s luck.”

    “It’s alright not always being up to my speed, Hawthorne.” 

    “Fine, I shall concede just this once.” I smiled triumphantly. “Merry Christmas, Heiress.”    “Merry Christmas, Jamie.” His resulting smile had never been more beautiful or joyous than in that moment. When he leaned in to kiss me again, I really did wonder about the year to come and what it would bring. Let it be a good one, please.

   “Merry Christmas, Heiress.”

   “Merry Christmas, Jamie.” His resulting smile had never been more beautiful or joyous than in that moment. When he leaned in to kiss me again, I really did wonder about the year to come and what it would bring. Let it be a good one, please.

A/N: See you in the next one! Hopefully will get a few more out before the true end of holidays. Merry Christmas once more and Happy New Year to everyone!!!!!!

[cobra-creampuff]

like. angel is submissive and breedable because he's trying soooo hard to be Good but he has absolutely no fucking clue how because he never actually bothered to like. develop a personality, form opinions, build an ethical framework, etc. all he's got to go on is this or that makes him feel icky inside, which is completely inactionable, and so he just ends up being obedient and trusting that he surely deserves however the Good Pretty Human Girl Hero treats him. god's perfect conventionally handsome doormat.

spike is submissive and breedable because he's a bottom and he wants to get roughed up and held down and bossed around.

[wardingshout]

Viridian trainers for day 5 of spesilverweek! they are my most beloved but Lance is a cursed character who is impossible to draw or portray in any way to me

[luck-of-the-drawings]

[OLD ART ALERT] A COLLECTION OF SCENES FROM THE GILLIONS CATSCRATCH ARC THAT BROUGHT ME GREAT JOY. i love fishy chips especially when its just gillion being delirious and violent and hostile

[synthshenanigans]

I miiiight color this properly but have a funky soul design i did for fun :}

[close up + a small text about the guy below and then some]

While it is mainly just for fun & not my main design for Soul, i think Soul's form would change throughout Cacophony a fair amount. There's still some things it cant change but depending on its view on himself, Heart & Mind, or Whole would alter how his apperance looks. Not necessarily a bad thing either, just a form on how he feels or views himself. Kinda like when you make a persona i guess? He just swaps a lot between them.

Also smaller thing being that it's "tail" can change as well! More obvious being the relation to the instrumental album cover but also it can changed into other things as well. An Umbrella for Spring and a Storm, a gavel for parts of Mucka Blucka, TSE & The Bidding, or it being one of those bid cards youd hold up to bid your amount [also during The Bidding]. Can also change to the trident during TSE & The Bidding too, the red guitar in Two Wuv as well. Just generally whatever he want/feels like!

[iamumbra195]

If the Graveyard kids were demigods, which Greek god would they be the child of? (Riodanverse AU)

For Ashlyn, I believe she would just be another of Apollo's kids, keeping to herself most of the time. Nobody really paid her any mind because out of the dozens of Apollo kids, there wasn't anything particularly remarkable about her. She wasn't the Head Counsellor or anything. She liked it that way. Ashlyn discovered she was a demigod when she was young and spent two full years at the camp to fully prepare for living as a demigod in the mortal world before becoming a summer-only kid. Her sensitivity to sound is one of the strange abilities she inherited but isn't fully able to control, which is why she wears enchanted earplugs that keep sounds at a more tolerable level. Beyond that, she was a pretty average Apollo kid. She was good at the basics like Archery and Music but not beyond that of a normal Apollo kid. The only thing that really stood out was her dancing. It was her special interest, incorporating it into her daily life as a demi-god as often as she could. Her fighting style was based on ballet in canon and she preferred fighting with her legs over her hands--even going as far as putting a weapon in her shoes so she could still use her legs to attack. So she is an average demigod overall. Until one day she discovers that she was one of the few to inherit Apollo's nosokinesis, the ability to create and control diseases (like her ability to open rifts and trap people in them in canon). There's also the fact that her name literally means 'dream' or 'vision', so considering the fact that Apollo is literally the god of prophecy, I think being a child of Apollo fits her very well.

For Logan, I feel that for a long time, he would just be another unclaimed kid. He didn't know anything about his real parents and his grandparents were always super cagey about it until he was older and got attacked by a monster and they finally took him to the camp. He still doesn't know who his biological mother was. Then one day after being pushed too far by bullies, he snapped just like in canon, and was claimed by Ares, the god of war. Much to his and Barron's (another child of Ares) dismay because what the fuck do you mean this dickhead is my half-brother?! He had initially believed that his parent was related to his love for space and astronomy or maybe even his intelligence and love for math but Ares?!

For Aiden, I think being a child of Hermes suits him best. I've done some tests and got answers like Ares or the Big Three, which I don't think those really fit him. But for some reason, I like the idea that he has the favour of/is a legacy of Hades or Hecate from his dad's side while being completely unaware of it until much later (the unexplained connection his dad has to Maverick). Children of Hermes tend to be more hyperactive than other demigods and are often referred to as a jack of all trades and I think those things really suit Aiden. When he was younger, his parents sent him to camp year round in hopes that it would help him and he came back with dyed blond hair, red eye contacts and a reckless streak a mile wide.

For Ben, I believe that this kid is and always will be a child of Apollo. His deep love and talent for singing and music, his rage and hurt at having this taken away from him. His knack for medicine despite only having experience through taking care of Aiden. He only discovered he was a demigod after his voice was destroyed so he never learned that he could heal people with his voice/singing until one of the others, maybe Taylor, were fatally injured and he had no supplies to save them so as one last attempt to comfort them, he breaks his years of silence and sings for them. To his complete astonishment, they started healing and were able to stay alive long enough to get the medical help they needed. He felt pressued to sing and use his voice after that because it could heal people but Aiden or one of the others nipped that in the bud and told him he didn't have to do anything he didn't want to. The idea of him also having premonitions when something bad is going to happen is cool, especially if it's the reason why he ends up catching little details the others fail to notice (a little nod to Canvas Ben for being so goddamn observant). His relationship with Aiden is also cute because children of Apollo and children of Hermes tend to get along, although not all of them do (Aiden and Ashlyn lol).

For Taylor and Tyler, I believe the twins would be children of Hephaestus. In some cultures, identical twins are treated as one entity/soul that was separated into two people and the same could be said about the Hernandez twins in this AU. Although they are different people with different interests and goals, that is how they are perceived as mortals. On the divine side of things, however, they are seen as a single soul split into two. That's why their connection goes far beyond that of regular mortal twins. Their abilities also reflect this. Taylor is a brilliant craftswoman and has a way with technology that separates her from the rest. She's also extremely fire-resistant, which proves to be useful considering her brother has the ability to manipulate fire. Tyler, on the other hand, has the basic skills needed to be a mechanic due to growing up with Taylor but it isn't instinctive in the same it is for Taylor. He is one of the few children of Hephaestus to have pyrokinesis, something he had to learn to master on his own because there wasn't anyone to teach him. They complete each other.

Although Aiden and Ashlyn spent a year or two in the camp, their paths never crossed and they were just another faceless person in the crowd of campers until they officially met when Ben and Aiden began to go to her high school in her sophomore year. Aiden clocked her as a demigod as soon as they met at the bus and was excited to meet another one of them outside of camp. He was also curious to know if she figured out what she was yet and if not, he could protect her from monsters and lead her to camp! Ashlyn recognized both Aiden and Ben as demigods but preferred to avoid mixing her mortal life with her mythological one so she avoided Aiden's needling to the best of her ability. When Ben finally told Aiden that she was another child of Apollo at camp, Aiden doubled down on the pestering which irritated Ashlyn beyond belief. Unfortunately for her, this wasn't the last she was going to see of him.

Mid-way through the first semester, Ashlyn received a prophecy from the Oracle stating that she and five others were to go on a quest. It was a shock to her and everyone in the camp because she was pretty unremarkable yet she was the one that had to go on the quest? It was ridiculously vague beyond the fact that she specifically had to go to Savannah with a group of five others. So she had to pick five other members for her team.

Nearly everyone tried to volunteer and because Ashlyn didn't particularly care who went along, names were drawn out of a bowl. With her luck, Aiden and Ben's names were both drawn out of the bowl, along with the Hernandez twins and Logan. She wasn't particularly happy with those chosen but she supposed it could be worse. Especially when she considered the fact she could've been going with him.

Barron was throwing a fit about how an unclaimed coward like Logan couldn't have possibly been picked but Tyler told him that no one would even want to go on a quest with him considering the only thing he cared about was glory and honour for himself.

And so, the six of them packed their things and started their journey to Savannah, Georgia where it all went to hell.