#i couldn’t change it if i wanted to atp

[pidgecv]

i drew him a bit feminine (and wrong) but yk what i’m not mad it looks p good just not how i’d like

gonna keep adding sketches as i do them

[alicentflorent]

FTWDs final season could have been so much better if it was revealed that Troy was running padre and controlling madison (as revenge) this whole time. He knew enough about nick and Alicia to make madison think padre knew who and where they were this whole time. And here are some other reasons how this storyline would make sense and be more interesting:

- Troy has a military background so him taking over and running a military base makes more sense than two teenagers building it up by themselves because all the adults died.

- taking and training up children to be solidiers also would make a little sense because of his own fucked up upbringing and the idea he has of the type of people who were made for this world. He would have probably had the same idea as shrike, that the kids stood a better chance at padre than with their “weak” parents. The mother of his child dying for being a good person and not getting to raise their daughter (who would not be named after his abuser) could have also played into this idea of the kids being separated from their good parents.

- shrikes radiation cure experiments: Troy ran walker bite experiments before, just to see how people would turn. So it would also make sense if the work we see shrike doing was something he approved of or an idea he himself came up with. As for shrike, it would make sense that she turned out this way if she’d spent years being mentored by someone like troy otto instead of becoming evil and stealing children just because her dad died.

- the scene where madison smashes the glass to expose “padre” would have been such a good and shocking reveal if it was Troy. Imagine Madison finding out that Troy is not only alive but had been the one running this the whole time!

There’s also a lot of other things I would have done differently for the other characters too and I would have liked Madison to have a little villain era and do some really fucked up shit as she tries to take down Troy and padre. How dark would Madison go? Would she survive with her humanity still intact?

I know I’m just talking into the void here because no one care about this shitshow but I just hate it when shows have a plot that could have been good, maybe even great but then completely miss the mark and fans come with better theories and ideas with minimal effort and thought.

[papaya-twinks]

hey, I don’t know if you take requests atm so feel free to ignore it because I have a pretty long request, but I just wanted to tell you that I love your writing!!

I was bored today and kept daydreaming when I got this idea for a request, feel free to change some things if you want:)

Idea is, the two were dating for a while, like a year or so, and they broke up because they wanted to persuade their own dreams, him winning a wdc and her being in med school to become a doctor. But during their relationship, Lando always dragged her into the gym with him, so she kind of got a contract with the gym for like 2 years idk. After their breakup she kept going to that gym, because she didn’t want to let her money go to waste. One day working out, a guy came up to her and tried to help her, getting close and supporting her. She saw Lando was watching them and kept going because she knew that would get him jealous. After her workout session in the changing rooms obv, she wanted to get unready etc. and Lando came in. Some enemies to lovers banter, so that he ends up pushing her against the wall in the shower and one thing leads to another and they have sex. At the end they settle for another round in his apartment and end up getting back together.

Atp feel free to do whatever you want and whatever you’re comfortable with!

Kind of like break up then seeing each other again leading to hate/anger sex, semi public sex, jealous sex

Kisses <3

Warnings: Smut, 18+ angst, praise, hot!sex, shower!sex, swearing, hate!sex, degradation, slut-shaming

Pairing: Lando Norris x fem!reader

A/N - I’m sorry this took so long but omg this is such a good request!! xxxx

You had loved Lando. Of course you had, he had been an amazing boyfriend, but it wasn’t your dream to stay in a garage and watch him from afar, achieving his own dreams. And it wasn’t his dream to watch you go to med school and waste all his talent away.

The breakup had hurt. Absolutely, it had been painful letting go of a man you’d loved since you were in high school, but you both had destinies somewhere else, and if you couldn’t do it with the other by your side, then so be it.

“Yeah, I’m just heading to the gym right now,” you said, pulling on your hoodie as you spoke to your best friend, Maria, over the phone. “Jesus, didn’t Lando drag you there every day?” she asked, as you rolled your eyes, tying your hair into a ponytail.

“Yeah, I still have the stupid membership,” you grumbled, “I’m gonna finish it, then not renew it,” you said, picking up your gym bag, and grabbing your bottle. “Alright, well, you have fun,” she smiled, as you muttered a small ‘bye’ before hanging up.

You’d chosen some cute little pink sports bra and a matching pair of tight leggings, it was easier for you to work out in something like that. You walked into the gym, scanning your membership as you did so, god knows why you’d opted for the two year membership.

It had been a little bit ambitious of you to have gotten a membership, hoping you’d be together for that long, but at the time it seemed reasonable. At the time, it seemed like it could happen, and it wasn’t just a thought that you had.

You were standing by the mirror, holding a couple weights, trying to think of anything but how Lando would stand behind you to make sure you were okay, or how you’d share his bottle with him when you forgot your own…fuck.

It hurt. It hurt so much that you couldn’t be with him, that you’d had to watch his races through a fucking television and not with him, to show your support and how much you loved him. You still loved him. But did he still love you? You’d never know the answer to that.

“Hey, you need some help?” a voice made you look up, a guy, with a half smile on his face. God, you need a distraction from Lando anyways. “Can you spot me??” you asked, as he nodded, setting his shit down and placing his hands on your waist to move you back a bit.

Lando didn’t know why he hadn’t cancelled his membership. He was a millionaire, he could afford to lose a few thousand, but returning to the same place, every single day, at the same time, it felt like a natural part of him that he simply couldn’t go without.

Like a life source, almost needed to him as much as air was needed to him. Almost as much as you were needed to him. But he had a break between his triple header, so it had been a month after you both broke up, but he was back in his game.

That stupid pink set… why did he buy it for you? And why did he gave to see some girl in that same set with a guy helping her lift, who looked a lot like you…wait…

No way. Lando would’ve thought you’d cancelled the membership or something. He remembered the look on your face when he’d said he couldn’t do it anymore, the way your gorgeous eyes had shimmered with tears…he’d never forget that.

But seeing you here now, another man touching you, that’s what made him snap. “I’m gonna grab the rest of my shit, you go the showers,” the guy smiled to you. Way too friendly for Lando’s liking. “Hey,” he said, his voice sullen as he approached you.

“He- oh, uh, hi Lando,” you said, your face visibly falling as Lando narrowed his eyes. “Who’s that guy? You got a boyfriend?” he said, not even caring where he was going as he followed you. “No,” you said, your reply short and sharp. What right did Lando have to do this?

“You don’t get the right to act like-,” you started, but Lando cut you off, his voice sharper and harsher than you expected. “I don’t care what rights I have, I know them very well, thanks,” he said bitterly as you rolled your eyes, hanging up your bag in your locker.

“Still wear this, then?” he said, running a finger along the under band of your bra, your shoulders tensing. “Stop,” you batted his hand away as he scoffed, rolling his eyes. “Why have you moved on so quickly, hm?” he asked, “what, you’re that desperate for a cock?”.

“Oh don’t even,” you scoffed, “don’t make out like I’m a slut or what we,” you snapped, “you left my life, I have every right to move on from you, you left me!”. Lando’s jaw went slack, his eyes darkening. “I left you, yeah?” he said, your body jumping as he pushed your softly, back against the wall of the shower, locking the door.

“We agreed to move on!” he snapped, his voice louder than he intended. “Oh please, don’t act like you haven’t slept with anyone since then!” you said, equally as loud, taking his by surprise. “Why?” he said, his voice dropping of all its hate and and anger.

“Why do you look prettier without me, Y/N?”. That made you freeze. “What the hell does that mean?” you said, voice shaking shaking. “You look good, just as good. If not better,” he said, slowly letting his eyes trace your body. “Why did you move on so quickly?” his voice raised once more.

“Maybe you’re right!” you yelled, “maybe I do want cock, is that so bad?”. Lando clenched his jaw, his teeth grinding together almost painfully. “You want cock, yeah?” he said, “well I’ll give it to you,”. You were about to open your mouth to protest when his hand quite literally tore your sports bra off.

“Lando!” you hissed, the materials falling off your body in two pieces. “I bought it, I can rip it,” he said, dipping his head to press wet kisses to your neck, his teeth grazing the sensitive spots, the ones he knew perfectly well, the ones he was so well accustomed to…

“I’ll buy it for you in every fucking colour if you do just shut the fuck up,” he snapped, nipping at your neck, finding a point along your collarbone, and sucking down on it, a moan leaving your lips as he held you against the cold wall of the shower.

He moved his hands down to the waist band of your leggings, a moan on your lips as he traced your wet folds through your panties. “Lando, fuck,” you gasped, hands clawing at his back softly, your nails digging into his skin as you tore his shirt off.

“You’re just fucking dick desperate, Y/N,” Lando scoffed, pulled his own joggers down, his cock springing hard against his abdomen as he moved your panties to the side, pumping his finger in and out of you, no care to go slower, his thumb rubbing circles over your clit.

“Couldn’t even last a month without crawling back like a desperate little slut,” he laughed, the sound cold and belittling, as you whined, his throbbing head pushing your folds apart, running over your aching bundle of nerves, teasing your entrance.

“Say you want it, Y/N,” he said, his head dipping down once more to run over the love bite he left on your neck, his cock slipping into you. “Oh fuck, Lan,” you gasped, your hands tightening over his biceps, nails scratching at his skin as he groaned.

“Tight as ever,” he said, holding himself inside of you, running a hand over the bump in your tummy. “Fuck, it’s like you’re made for me,” he said, slowly pulling out of you, leaving his head hanging inside of you as your cunt clenched again, tightening round his tip as he wrapped a hand round your neck.

His veins flexed as he slowly moved his hips, shifting the tempo til he was ploughing through your folds, your moans becoming louder and louder, eyes rolling as he held you against the wall. You hadn’t really gone a whole month without sex whilst dating Lando, so it didn’t take long for your orgasm to build up.

“Oh fuck,” you gasped, your heat enveloping his thigh member, the vein on the underside throbbing against your entrance, your breaths coming out short and sharp. “I’m gonna cum, Lando,” you gasped, one of his hands moving to your hair, the other rubbing across your clit.

“God, do it,” he said, your eyes squeezing shut as you both gasped, his thrusts becoming sloppy and your pussy clenching as your orgasm flushed, your thighs painted with thick ropes of cum, your body shaking. “We’re not done,” he said, his hand in your neck.

You whimpered, accepting the hoodie he thrust at your chest, pulling it over your head as you let him grab your hand, dragging you out of the changing room. The guy from earlier just watched as you were dragged away, grumbling under his breath about ‘bitches changing their minds’.

By the time you had come back to the apartment, it had barely changed, but the one place you were most acquainted with, aka, Lando’s bed, looked even more appealing than it ever had. “Lando,” you gasped as he dropped you onto your back, your body bouncing.

“Turn over,” he said, teeth gritted together as you nodded, your body bent over the edge of the mattress as he lifted the hoodie. “Always looked good in my shit,” he said, pushing his cock into you once more. “Oh god,” you gasped, your eyes rolling as he held himself in you again.

“Missed this, hm?” he asked, “still come to that stupid gym, all because of you,” he growled. “What?” you asked, just about managing to say the words without moaning, one of his hands pushing you it not he mattress, the sound of his hips snapping into yours echoing round the room.

The sound of his cock plunging into your wet heat, over and over again, it was filthy, your eyes rolling at the sound of it, Lando’s jaw going slack. “Can’t not go to that place when I used to take you there all the time,” he said, “you’d look so good…”.

“Can’t believe we never fucked there when we were dating,” he said, and all you could respond with was a moan as he toyed with your clit once more. “Missed you so bad,” he said after a few seconds, his lips parted with need and pleasure.

“Missed y-you too,” you choked out, your cunt clenching round him as you felt your second orgasm build up, the bump in your tummy prominent from his cock, thick and long inside of you. “Need you back,” you gasped, your hands helping your body to balance.

“Yeah? I want you too,” he said, leaning down to press surprisingly soft kisses to your neck and collarbone, as you whimpered. “Lando, please,” you moaned, “d-don’t say that,”. He frowned, his hips slowing down, not enough to deny your orgasm, but to make you focus on him.

“Why?” he asked, tilting your chin to look at him. “Don’t get my hopes up,” you said, body rocking as he frowned. “Y/N, I want you back,” he said, “truthfully, I want you back. We do long distance, I’ll visit after every race,” he said, almost pleading with you.

“W-We can talk about it,” you said, your cunt clenching round his thick member as your orgasm flushed through, Lando’s body lined with a sheen of sweat, his cheeks painted red as he slowed down, pulling out of you, his cum shooting along your thighs as you panted.

Fuck, you needed him back.

[theonottsbxtch]

TEACHER'S PET PT.2 | CL16

an: i don't even have anything to say i'm just giggling atp, also this one is really long i apologise, i got carried away

wc: 9.1k

warnings: heavy infidelity

part one

The morning sunlight filtered through the blinds, casting soft stripes of golden light across the bed. The room was quiet, save for the gentle rhythm of Logan’s breathing beside her, his arm draped comfortably around her waist, holding her close. She blinked, the last vestiges of sleep still clouding her mind, her body warm and drowsy beneath the blanket.

But as her consciousness sharpened, the remnants of a dream clung stubbornly to her—vivid, unsettling, far too real.

Professor Leclerc.

Her heart gave a startled lurch as the images resurfaced, unbidden. His hands, firm on her waist. The soft, gravelly sound of his voice whispering her name, lips brushing her ear. Her skin felt heated under his touch, the press of his body against hers too close, too intimate. She had seen his face clearly—his dark, intense eyes focused solely on her, the way his mouth curved into a knowing, devastating smile.

The dream had felt so real, too real, and her pulse raced as she lay there, her breath catching in her throat. The weight of Logan’s arm around her suddenly felt suffocating. She shifted slightly, trying to shake the dream away, to rid herself of the guilt that came rushing in like a wave, but it was no use. The images clung to her, sticky and wrong, making her feel hot with shame.

How could she have dreamed about him? Her professor? Her much older professor.

And worse—she’d liked it. In the haze of sleep, she'd been swept up in it, wanting more, her body responding in ways that horrified her now.

This is wrong, she told herself fiercely. I have Logan. I love Logan. This isn’t supposed to happen.

Her body tensed under Logan’s arm, and she swallowed hard, trying to calm the flurry of emotions threatening to consume her. She didn’t move, didn’t want to wake him, but her mind was racing, her heart pounding far too fast for such an early morning.

How could she face Logan after this? He was lying there, holding her so gently, so lovingly, completely unaware of the tangled mess of thoughts in her head. It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair to him, and it wasn’t fair to herself. The guilt gnawed at her, twisting her insides.

Just as she thought she could push the dream aside, bury it deep enough to forget it, Logan stirred beside her. His grip on her waist tightened slightly, and his sleepy voice drifted toward her, soft and familiar.

"Morning," he mumbled, his voice thick with sleep. His lips brushed the back of her neck as he nuzzled closer, pulling her tighter against his chest. "You okay?"

The question hung in the air like a challenge, and for a split second, her stomach dropped. Could he sense something was wrong? Could he feel the way her body had gone rigid beneath his touch, how her breathing had changed?

I’m not okay, she thought, the words screaming in her mind, but her lips remained sealed.

"Yeah," she whispered, forcing a smile he couldn’t see. "I’m fine. Just... just waking up."

Her voice sounded thin, unconvincing even to herself, but Logan didn’t seem to notice. He pressed another kiss to her shoulder, a tender, affectionate gesture that sent a new wave of guilt crashing over her. He was always so good to her—kind, loving, steady. Everything she needed.

So why was her heart still pounding with the memory of her professor? Why did the dream still linger, like an ache she couldn’t quite shake?

Logan’s arm loosened, and he shifted beside her, rolling onto his back. She could feel him stretching, the mattress shifting beneath them, and she used the moment to slip out from under the covers, desperate for some space.

She stood, her legs shaky as she padded quietly across the room toward the dresser. The early morning chill hit her skin, waking her up fully, but it did nothing to shake the feeling clinging to her chest. Her reflection in the mirror caught her off guard, her face flushed, her hair messy from sleep. She looked... guilty. Like the dream had left a mark on her that couldn’t be erased so easily.

Behind her, she heard the soft rustle of sheets as Logan sat up in bed, rubbing his eyes. "You sure you’re okay?" he asked, his voice a little clearer now, more awake.

She froze for a split second, then busied herself with picking out clothes for the day. "Yeah, just thinking about everything I have to do. I’ve got a lecture this morning." She kept her back to him, not trusting herself to face him just yet.

There was a pause, then the creak of the bed as Logan stood, moving toward her. His arms wrapped around her waist from behind, pulling her close again, his chin resting on her shoulder. His warmth was familiar, comforting, but it only made the knot in her chest tighten.

"Don’t stress," he murmured, pressing a kiss to her neck. "You’ll get through it. And if you need to talk to your professor again about your essay, just go for it. I’m sure he’ll be understanding."

Her body tensed at the mention of Professor Leclerc, and she felt her breath catch in her throat. The dream came flooding back in vivid detail, and she bit down hard on her lip, trying to shake the thought of it. She couldn’t let Logan see how shaken she was.

"Yeah," she muttered, reaching for a sweater, eager to put some distance between them. "I’ll figure it out."

Logan gave her waist a reassuring squeeze before stepping back, oblivious to the turmoil bubbling beneath her calm exterior. "I’m gonna shower. Let me know if you want to grab coffee before you head to class."

"Sure," she said quickly, avoiding his gaze as she started pulling on her clothes. "I’ll let you know."

She heard the bathroom door close behind him, the soft rush of water starting up moments later, and finally let out the breath she’d been holding.

She stood there, her hands gripping the edge of the dresser as she stared down at the hardwood floor, her mind racing. What was wrong with her? How could she have let herself dream about him? It was just a dream, she tried to remind herself—dreams didn’t mean anything. But the way her body had responded, the way her heart still thudded in her chest, told her otherwise.

This is wrong, she thought again, trying to steady herself. I have Logan. I love Logan.

But as she pulled on her jeans, slipping her feet into her shoes, her thoughts drifted to Professor Leclerc again, the memory of his voice, the way he’d looked at her during their meeting, the soft intimacy of his office. She hadn’t imagined that tension. There was something there, wasn’t there?

She shook her head, trying to clear it. She needed to focus on reality, on her relationship with Logan, and on her lecture this morning. She couldn’t afford to let her mind wander like this.

But as she grabbed her bag and headed for the door, her heart still racing, she knew that shaking off the professor wasn’t going to be as easy as she’d hoped.

-

The lecture hall was already buzzing with low chatter as she slipped inside, taking a seat near the middle, far enough back to blend in but close enough that she could still see him clearly. She hadn’t eaten breakfast, her stomach too twisted with nerves to manage food, and the coffee she’d grabbed on the way with Logan sat untouched beside her, growing cold.

Her eyes drifted toward the front of the room, where Professor Leclerc was setting up for the lecture. He moved with the same deliberate grace as always, flipping through his notes, adjusting the laptop screen, completely at ease. He was wearing a crisp white shirt today, the sleeves once again rolled up to his forearms, his blazer draped neatly over the back of his chair and for a second she wondered if it was on purpose.  He looked as composed as ever—professional, distant.

And yet, she felt it again, that strange pull tightening in her chest as she watched him. Her mind flashed briefly to the dream from the night before, and she swallowed hard, forcing herself to focus. This was just a lecture. Nothing more. She was overthinking things, letting her mind play tricks on her.

But as the hall began to settle, students quieting down as the lecture was about to begin, she could feel his attention shift. He glanced up, his eyes sweeping the room before landing on her. The moment their gazes met, her breath caught in her throat.

He didn’t look away immediately. There was a pause—just a beat too long—and it sent a shiver down her spine. The same unreadable expression lingered on his face, but there was something in his eyes, something that made her heart race. He looked at her like he knew something she didn’t, like there was a shared secret hanging between them, unspoken but undeniable.

She quickly averted her gaze, her cheeks flushing. Focus on the lecture, she told herself, but it was harder than it should have been. Her body was tense, every nerve aware of him standing at the front of the room, knowing he was aware of her too.

Professor Leclerc’s voice cut through the silence as he began the lecture, his tone smooth and authoritative, commanding attention as he spoke. He moved effortlessly from topic to topic, discussing the intricacies of Derrida and the complexities of post-structuralism, but she could barely focus on the content. Every now and then, she would feel his gaze flick toward her, brief glances that lingered just long enough to make her heart race again.

It wasn’t just in her head, was it?

As the lecture progressed, the feeling of being singled out grew. He would pose questions to the class, his eyes scanning the room, but they always seemed to return to her, as though he were waiting for her reaction, her response. Even when he wasn’t looking directly at her, she could feel the weight of his attention, like a low hum beneath the surface of everything he said. It made her shift uncomfortably in her seat, her fingers fidgeting with the pen in her lap.

At one point, he asked a question, something about Gustav Courbet’s intentions behind a painting of which the title she missed, and though several hands went up around her, his eyes locked on hers. Her pulse quickened, but she didn’t raise her hand. She didn’t trust herself to speak right now, not with the way her thoughts were tangled up, not when she felt like her face was on fire under his gaze.

He didn’t call on anyone else. Instead, he lingered in that moment, his gaze heavy on her, as though waiting—expecting something. The silence stretched out for what felt like an eternity before he finally moved on, but the tension in her chest only tightened further.

The rest of the lecture passed in a blur. She couldn’t focus, her thoughts too muddled by the quiet intensity between them, the way he seemed to be paying her special attention without saying a word. When the class finally ended, students began packing up, the rustle of papers and bags filling the room. She exhaled slowly, her body tense, her mind still reeling from the subtle but undeniable connection that had pulsed between them the entire hour.

Just as she stood to leave, she heard his voice, calm but unmistakably directed at her.

"Miss."

She froze, her heart skipping a beat at the sound of her name. Slowly, she turned to face him. He was standing near his desk, his hands resting on the stack of notes, his gaze fixed firmly on her.

"Could you come to my office for a moment? I’d like to discuss the next assignment with you."

Her pulse raced. The words were simple enough—nothing inappropriate, nothing out of the ordinary for a professor to ask of a student. But the way he said it, the way his eyes held hers, made her stomach flip. It wasn’t a request. It was an expectation.

She nodded, her voice catching slightly as she replied. "Of course."

He gave a small, almost imperceptible nod, then turned away, gathering his papers and slipping them into his satchel. She watched him for a moment, feeling the weight of the decision she’d just made. This was just a discussion about an assignment. That was all. It was professional. Normal. But deep down, she knew it didn’t feel that way.

As she slung her bag over her shoulder and began making her way toward the door, her mind was already racing ahead, imagining what the next conversation would hold. The pull between them had only grown stronger, more insistent, and as much as she tried to push it away, the anticipation gnawed at her, pulling her deeper into a situation she wasn’t sure she could control.

This wasn’t over.

Not yet.

She found herself walking toward his office without hesitation, as though her feet were moving on their own. The hallway was quieter now, most students having filtered out after the lecture. Her mind raced, buzzing with too many thoughts at once—none of them clear enough to grasp.

When she reached the door, she paused, her heart thudding in her chest. His name, Professor Charles Leclerc, was printed neatly on the plaque beside the door, the same as always. Yet, somehow, it felt different now, like the air around his office held more weight. Her hand hovered above the door for a moment before she gave a soft knock.

"Come in," his voice called from inside.

She pushed the door open, slipping inside and closing it quietly behind her. The room was warm, lit by the soft glow of a desk lamp, the blinds half-drawn to block out the harsh daylight. It smelled faintly of coffee and old books, a subtle comfort in the otherwise unfamiliar space.

Professor Leclerc was seated behind his desk, but as soon as she entered, he looked up, his eyes settling on her with that same intensity she’d felt during the lecture. His blazer was hung over the back of his chair, and his sleeves were still rolled up, revealing the strong lines of his forearms. He adjusted his glasses slightly, a gesture that shouldn’t have made her stomach flip the way it did.

"Miss," he greeted, gesturing to the chair across from his desk. "Please, sit."

She obeyed without hesitation, lowering herself into the chair and setting her bag on the floor beside her. The office was small, intimate, lined with bookshelves and papers that seemed to overflow with the work of a man deeply immersed in his subject. But it wasn’t the room that made her nervous—it was the man sitting behind the desk.

He leaned back slightly, his eyes never leaving her. "I’ve been thinking about your last essay submission," he began, his voice low and thoughtful. "You’re very talented, you know."

The compliment landed softly, and for a moment, she didn’t quite know how to respond. She hadn’t expected praise. She had expected to be critiqued, corrected, told where she had gone wrong. But instead, his words hung in the air between them, warm and heavy, and she felt herself relaxing into the chair without meaning to.

"Thank you," she said quietly, her voice barely above a whisper.

"I mean it," he continued, his eyes searching hers. "You have a sharp mind. Your analysis of Toulouse-Letrec’s Rosa La Rouge—especially the way you approached strokes—was far more nuanced than most of your peers. You see things others miss."

Her heart fluttered in her chest at his words. The way he spoke, the way he looked at her—it was like he wasn’t just praising her work, but her, the person behind the words. And it did something to her, something she wasn’t prepared for.

She could feel the heat rising in her cheeks, the quickening of her pulse. His praise was intoxicating, soothing something deep inside her she hadn’t even realised needed soothing. Something she realised she was starting to crave. Her anxiety about the essay, her insecurities about her abilities—all of it seemed to melt away under the warmth of his approval.

"I... I wasn’t sure I got it right," she admitted, feeling a little breathless.

He leaned forward slightly, resting his elbows on the desk, closing the space between them. "You did," he said, his voice soft but firm. "You have real potential. If you keep pushing yourself, I think you could write something truly remarkable. Something I’d imagine may end up in this very university’s library, on my shelves"

Her stomach flipped again, and she found herself holding her breath. The room felt smaller, more intimate, with the two of them sitting there in the quiet, his voice weaving around her like a spell. There was no one else here. Just him and her.

"I want you to take that approach further in the next assignment," he continued, his gaze still locked on hers. "Dig deeper into the painting. Trust your instincts. You have a unique perspective, and that’s something you should lean into. Don’t be afraid to take risks with your analysis."

She nodded, but the words barely registered. All she could think about was the way his voice sounded, the way his eyes seemed to see through her. Her body felt warm, too warm, and her mind was spinning in directions she didn’t want it to go.

For the first time in weeks, she didn’t feel the guilt gnawing at her. She didn’t think about Logan or about how inappropriate this was. All she felt was the rush of satisfaction, the undeniable pull of his attention. It was like nothing else mattered in this moment.

"You have a real gift," he said, his voice dropping to a near whisper. "I hope you know that."

Her breath hitched, and before she could stop herself, she murmured, "I... I don’t know."

His lips curved into a faint smile, his gaze softening as he leaned back in his chair. "You will."

For a brief moment, she let herself get lost in it—the praise, the closeness, the way he looked at her like she was something special. It was heady, overwhelming, but she wanted to stay in it just a little longer. She felt seen, in a way she hadn’t in a long time.

And then her phone buzzed in her bag, shattering the moment.

She blinked, her body jolting as if she had been pulled from a dream. With shaking fingers, she reached into her bag, pulling out her phone. The screen lit up with a message from 

Logan:

Dinner on me tonight?

The words hit her like a punch to the gut, and all at once, the guilt came crashing back, hard and unforgiving. Her stomach twisted violently, the warmth that had settled over her evaporating in an instant. She stared at the message, her heart sinking.

Logan. Her boyfriend. The man who loved her, who had kissed her goodbye that morning without suspecting a thing.

What am I doing?

Her chest tightened, and she quickly shoved the phone back into her bag, her hands trembling. The weight of what had just happened—the way she had let herself be swept up in the moment, how easily she had forgotten everything else—hit her all at once, and it felt suffocating.

"This is wrong," she thought, the words repeating in her mind like a mantra. This is wrong.

Her cheeks burned with shame, and she couldn’t bring herself to meet Professor Leclerc’s eyes anymore. She could still feel his attention on her, but it felt different now. Too heavy. Too close.

"Is everything alright?" His voice was calm, but there was a hint of concern laced into the question.

She forced a smile, though it felt brittle. "Yeah," she lied, her voice strained. "Just a text from... my boyfriend."

There was a pause, and though he didn’t say anything, she could feel the shift in the air. The subtle tension between them thickened, and she stood abruptly, her movements jerky.

"I should go," she said quickly, grabbing her bag and slinging it over her shoulder. "I... I have another class."

Professor Leclerc didn’t stop her. He merely nodded, his eyes still on her, watching as she fumbled with the door handle.

"Take your time with the assignment," he said softly, as she opened the door. "And if you need anything... you know where to find me."

His words lingered in the air as she hurried out of the office, her pulse racing, her mind a chaotic mess of emotions. She could feel the guilt clawing at her, sharp and unforgiving, but there was something else there too—something she didn’t want to admit.

As she walked down the hallway, her phone still buzzing faintly in her bag, she couldn’t stop thinking about him.

And that terrified her.

-

The restaurant Logan had chosen was cosy, the kind of place they’d been to a dozen times before—intimate without being pretentious, with soft lighting and the smell of fresh bread lingering in the air. Normally, it would have been the perfect setting for a relaxed evening, a break from the stress of her assignments and the constant hum of campus life. But tonight, something felt off. She couldn’t shake the tension that had followed her since the meeting with Professor Leclerc.

Logan was already at the table when she arrived, sitting near the back corner of the restaurant, his eyes lighting up when he saw her. He smiled, that warm, familiar smile that usually put her at ease.

"Hey, you," he said as she slid into the chair across from him. "Thought you were gonna ditch me for a second."

She forced a smile, but her mind was still racing, the earlier conversation with Charles. Professor Leclerc replaying itself on a loop. "Sorry," she said, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. "Got a little caught up with something."

"No worries," Logan said, waving it off. "I already ordered drinks. Figured you’d want a glass of white?"

"Perfect," she murmured, her eyes flicking briefly to the wine list before drifting over the restaurant. She needed to calm down, to focus on the moment. She was here with Logan. This was where she was supposed to be.

The server arrived with their drinks, and Logan launched into an easy conversation about his day—something about a project on his course, a deadline that was stressing him out. She nodded along, trying to keep up, but her mind kept slipping, wandering back to the way Professor Leclerc had looked at her during their meeting, the way his voice had sounded when he praised her. The praise had felt personal, intimate in a way that wasn’t just academic.

She took a sip of her wine, trying to drown the thought.

Logan was mid-sentence, something about his coursemate, when she heard it. A voice she recognised, low and distinct. Her body tensed before she even turned her head, as if it knew before her brain had fully registered it.

Professor Leclerc.

He was sitting a few tables away, near the window, his back partially turned toward them but still unmistakable. His hair was slightly tousled, his sleeves rolled up as usual, though this time he wasn’t wearing his glasses. He was with someone—a woman, blonde and striking, with a sharp jawline and an air of confidence that made her feel immediately inadequate. She was leaning in toward him, laughing at something he’d said, her hand resting lightly on his arm.

Her heart skipped a beat.

The air felt too thick suddenly, the warmth of the restaurant stifling. She couldn’t stop staring at him. He looked different, more relaxed, like the weight of his role as professor had been shed for the evening. His posture was looser, his smile—something she rarely saw in the classroom—came easily as he listened to the woman beside him.

Logan was still talking, but his voice felt like background noise now. The clatter of silverware, the low hum of conversation around them—it all faded into a dull hum as her focus narrowed in on Professor Leclerc. Her gaze flicked to his date, jealousy spiking unexpectedly in her chest. She had no right to feel this way—he wasn’t hers, and she had no reason to think of him as anything other than her professor. But the way he’d spoken to her earlier, the way his praise had made her feel seen, made it impossible to push the thought away.

What if she were the one sitting across from him tonight?

She imagined it—sitting in that dimly lit corner with him, his attention focused solely on her, his voice low and intimate as he praised her work again, only this time not just her work. What if he looked at her the way he was looking at the woman beside him, with that easy smile and soft eyes? What if he reached across the table, his hand brushing against hers in a way that felt deliberate, intentional?

The thought sent a shiver down her spine. She could picture it so vividly—the quiet closeness of the restaurant, the way they’d linger over their meals, talking about anything and everything, his gaze never straying far from hers. They’d share a bottle of wine, his hand eventually resting on hers, the warmth of his touch sparking something undeniable between them. The thought of it, of being on a date with him, filled her with a strange, exhilarating mix of desire and guilt.

"Hey, you okay?" Logan’s voice broke through her thoughts, and she blinked, startled, her gaze snapping back to him.

"Huh? Yeah, sorry." She forced a smile, taking another sip of wine to steady herself. "Just... zoned out for a second."

Logan grinned, leaning forward slightly. "That’s because I’m boring you to death with sports science talk huh?" He chuckled, reaching for her hand across the table. "Let’s change the subject. How was your day?"

Her stomach twisted as his hand covered hers, the warmth of his touch grounding her in reality—reminding her of who she was supposed to be with. This was Logan. Her boyfriend. The man who cared for her, who had planned this dinner just to make her feel better after a long week. And yet, all she could think about was how his hand felt so different from the one she imagined touching hers across the room.

"It was fine," she lied, her voice feeling tight in her throat. "Just, you know, busy with classes."

She could feel the heat rising in her cheeks again, and before she could stop herself, her gaze drifted back toward Professor Leclerc. He hadn’t noticed her—he was too engrossed in his date, too caught up in the moment with the woman beside him. They were laughing now, the kind of soft, private laughter that felt like a secret shared between two people. Her chest tightened.

She shouldn’t be here. Or rather, she shouldn’t want to be there—at that table with him, feeling his attention wrap around her like it had in his office earlier. But she couldn’t stop imagining it, couldn’t stop wondering what it would be like to sit across from him, to be the one making him smile like that.

Her phone buzzed on the table, and she looked down to see a message from her professor in the university’s online system. The timing was cruelly coincidental. It was just a simple reminder about office hours and the upcoming assignment, but it was enough to make her pulse quicken again. He was here, just a few tables away, and yet his presence loomed larger than Logan’s, filling her mind completely.

Logan was saying something about plans for the weekend, but she barely heard him. The noise of the restaurant seemed to swell around her, disorienting her, making it hard to focus. She could feel herself slipping, her thoughts spiralling in directions she didn’t want them to go. She wanted to be present with Logan, to enjoy the dinner he had planned for them. But every time she looked at him, all she could think about was Professor Leclerc, sitting so close yet impossibly far away, on a date with someone else.

It should have been her.

Her stomach clenched at the thought, the guilt returning in a wave so strong it made her feel lightheaded. She wasn’t supposed to be thinking like this, not about her professor, not while she was on a date with her boyfriend. But the pull was too strong, the fantasy too intoxicating to resist.

She smiled at Logan, though it felt hollow, the guilt gnawing at her insides.

"I’m really glad we’re doing this," Logan said, his thumb brushing over the back of her hand. "We’ve both been so busy. It’s nice to just... you know, take a breath."

"Yeah," she whispered, her voice barely audible. "It is."

But as she glanced over at Professor Leclerc one last time, watching the way he leaned in toward his date, his eyes shining with interest, she couldn’t help but wonder if she’d ever be able to take that breath.

Because as long as she kept thinking about him, about what it would be like to be in his orbit like that, she wasn’t sure she could.

She couldn’t remember how the rest of the evening had gone. She barely remembered what she had eaten, let alone what Logan had talked about through the main course. Her mind had been elsewhere, circling back to the professor’s presence across the restaurant, the tension between them thick and suffocating. She was painfully aware of his every movement, his every glance in the corner of her vision, but she tried to push it all aside and focus on Logan.

But now, standing outside the restaurant, a cold breeze cutting through her coat, her thoughts were more chaotic than ever.

Logan had just received a call from one of his mates—Alex, someone from his football team—who was apparently too drunk to get home on his own.

"I’m so sorry, babe," Logan had said, guilt in his eyes as he slipped his jacket on. "Alex is a mess. He’s stuck on the other side of town, and there’s no way he’ll make it home without help."

"It’s fine," she’d assured him. "Really."

Logan had pulled out his wallet, fumbling through some cash. "Here, this should be enough to get you a cab home." He pressed the notes into her hand, squeezing it gently. "I’ll see you later, okay babe?"

She had nodded, watching as he quickly waved down a cab for himself and disappeared into the night to go get his friend, leaving her alone outside the restaurant. The dim street lights flickered overhead, casting long shadows across the pavement. She hugged her arms around herself, the wind biting at her skin as she waited for her own ride.

The city streets felt empty at this hour, the noise of the restaurant fading behind her as couples walked by, arm in arm, laughing and chatting. She glanced at her phone, not knowing exactly what she was waiting for, there were three cabs on the same street. But as she stood there, shifting on her feet, she felt a familiar presence before she saw him.

"Miss," a voice said, low and smooth, and she froze.

She turned slowly, her heart skipping a beat as her eyes met Professor Leclerc’s. He stood just a few feet away, his hands casually in his pockets, the streetlight casting a faint glow over his face. He wasn’t wearing his blazer, and his hair was slightly ruffled from the wind. His date was nowhere in sight, and she felt the air around them shift, the same electric tension that had been in his office earlier tightening between them.

"You’re out here alone?" he asked, his gaze flicking to the empty space beside her where Logan had been moments before.

"Yeah," she murmured, her throat suddenly dry. "Logan had to go pick up a friend. Drunk."

He took a step closer, his eyes dark and unreadable in the dim light. "And he just left you standing out here?"

"I’m was about to get a cab," she said, her voice quieter than she intended.

His eyes lingered on her, taking in the way she hugged her arms to her body against the chill. His proximity was unsettling, too close for comfort, and yet she didn’t move. She couldn’t. She felt like a moth drawn to a flame, knowing it was dangerous but unable to pull herself away.

"You look cold," he said, his voice soft but with an edge of something else—something unspoken.

She swallowed hard, her pulse quickening. "I’m fine," she lied, her body betraying her with a slight shiver.

He stepped even closer, the space between them shrinking to nothing. She could feel the warmth of his body now, the way his presence seemed to wrap around her like a blanket. Her heart raced, every nerve in her body suddenly alive, aware of how close he was—too close. She could smell the faint scent of his cologne, the sharpness of it filling her lungs with each breath.

For a moment, neither of them spoke. The city felt distant, the noise of passing cars and pedestrians muffled in the background, as if the world had shrunk to just the two of them. Her skin tingled, and she felt a dangerous pull toward him, an urge to close the gap between them completely, to cross the line she’d been so carefully trying to avoid.

"You shouldn’t be out here alone," he said, his voice low and intimate. His eyes held hers, something heavy and unspoken passing between them.

"Shouldn’t you be with your date?" she asked, her words slipping out before she could stop herself. Her voice came out shaky, laced with nerves.

His lips twitched slightly, a shadow of a smile, but there was no humour in it. "And shouldn’t you be with your boyfriend?" he reminded her softly, his eyes locking onto hers, as if daring her to acknowledge what was happening between them.

Her stomach clenched, guilt flashing through her like a jolt of electricity. This was wrong—so wrong—but the pull between them felt inescapable, like gravity drawing her closer no matter how much she fought it. She was standing in front of her professor, her body reacting to him in ways she couldn’t control, and her boyfriend was miles away, oblivious.

The thought hit her hard, guilt swirling inside her. But it didn’t stop the way her heart raced, the way her skin burned under his gaze.

"You shouldn’t be out here," he said again, his voice a little softer now, almost tender. "Let me give you a ride home."

She blinked, her thoughts scrambling. She should say no. She knew she should say no. But the words wouldn’t come. Her breath hitched in her throat as his eyes searched hers, waiting.

"I—I can get a cab," she stammered, though even she didn’t sound convincing.

"You could," he agreed, his voice steady and calm, but his eyes never left hers. "Or I could take you home. It’s late."

There was a moment of silence, the weight of his words hanging between them. Her heart pounded in her chest, her mind screaming at her to walk away, to leave before this went any further. But her body wasn’t listening. Her body was leaning into the moment, craving the intimacy she knew was wrong.

Before she could stop herself, she nodded.

"Okay," she whispered.

The word was barely out of her mouth before he turned, gesturing for her to follow him. She trailed after him, her legs feeling shaky as they walked to his car, which was parked further down the street. The city lights flickered overhead, the wind biting at her skin, but she barely felt it now. All she could feel was the heat between them, the unspoken tension that had simmered for weeks now threatening to spill over.

He unlocked the car, and she slid into the passenger seat, her hands trembling slightly as she buckled her seatbelt. The car was warm, the leather seats soft beneath her, and the moment he sat down next to her, she felt the air shift again, thickening with unspoken things. She could barely breathe.

He started the car in silence, the hum of the engine the only sound between them as they pulled away from the curb. For a few minutes, they didn’t speak, the city lights flashing by in a blur. She stared out the window, her mind a chaotic swirl of thoughts and feelings she didn’t know how to untangle.

"You’re quiet," he said, his voice breaking through the silence.

She glanced at him, her heart thudding in her chest. "Just… thinking."

He gave a soft hum in response, his fingers tapping lightly against the steering wheel. "About what?"

About you.

But she couldn’t say that. She couldn’t admit that her thoughts had been consumed by him ever since the restaurant, ever since he’d gotten too close. Instead, she shook her head slightly, looking away again.

"Nothing," she lied. She was getting really good at that lately 

He didn’t push her, but the silence that followed felt heavy, thick with things unsaid. She could feel his gaze flick toward her occasionally, and each time, her pulse quickened. She knew she shouldn’t be here, in this car, with him. She had a boyfriend. He was her professor. But none of that seemed to matter anymore. Not with the way her body responded to his presence.

The car slowed as they approached the University Accomodations, and she felt a strange mix of relief and disappointment as they neared the end of the ride. Relief because she knew she was playing with fire, disappointment because she didn’t want the moment to end.

He pulled up to the curb, the car idling as he glanced over at her. She hesitated, her fingers gripping the door handle. For a moment, neither of them moved.

"Thanks," she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

He didn’t respond right away. His eyes lingered on her for a moment, his gaze intense, searching. The silence stretched between them, thick with unspoken things, and she felt her breath catch in her throat.

"You should go," he said softly, but there was something in his voice—something that made her feel like neither of them really wanted her to leave.

She nodded, fumbling with the door handle. "Yeah."

But even as she stepped out of the car, her heart still racing, she couldn’t shake the feeling that something between them had shifted irreversibly.

She stepped out of the car, closing the door with a soft thud, the cold night air biting at her skin. She could feel the weight of everything pressing down on her—her emotions, her guilt, her confusion. Every step toward the door of her building felt heavier than the last, like she was walking away from something that was about to slip through her fingers.

She paused for a moment at the entrance, her hand trembling as it hovered over her keys. It was stupid, but part of her wanted to look back. To see if he was still sitting in his car, watching her walk away. But she knew that would be a mistake. She needed to go inside. She needed to end this.

Just as she was about to force herself forward, she heard the car door open behind her.

"Miss."

Her breath hitched at the sound of his voice, low and firm in the quiet night. She turned slowly, her heart thudding in her chest as she saw him standing by the car, his figure bathed in the glow of the streetlights. He was holding something in his hand—her phone.

"You forgot this," he said, his eyes locking onto hers as he started walking toward her, the phone held out like a lifeline.

She hadn’t even realised she’d left it behind. Her heart skipped a beat, her pulse quickening as he closed the distance between them. He stopped just in front of her, too close—again, too close—and the world seemed to narrow, leaving only the space between them.

"Thanks," she whispered, her voice shaky as she reached out for her phone, her fingers brushing against his hand. The contact sent a jolt of electricity up her arm, and suddenly, the air between them felt thick and charged, every nerve in her body on edge.

For a moment, neither of them moved. The night was still, the city around them quiet, but all she could focus on was the heat radiating from his body, the way his eyes were fixed on hers with an intensity that made her forget to breathe. She could feel her resolve slipping, the line she’d drawn in her mind fading into something hazy and indistinct.

"You should go inside," he said softly, but his voice was rough, like even he didn’t believe his own words.

She nodded, but her feet stayed rooted to the ground, her phone now clenched in her hand. Her eyes flicked down to his lips, and she immediately cursed herself for it, for even letting her mind go there. But the tension between them was suffocating, pulling her in like gravity, and the rational part of her brain was screaming to leave, to walk away before she made another mistake.

And yet she didn’t move.

He took a step closer, and her breath caught in her throat. His hand hovered near her, like he was resisting the urge to touch her, the space between them so small it felt like any second it would dissolve completely.

"This is wrong," she whispered, her voice barely audible, the words slipping out before she could stop them.

"I know," he said, his voice equally low, but there was a tightness in his tone, like he was battling something inside himself. His eyes flicked down to her lips, and for a split second, she saw the crack in his restraint, the moment where control started to slip.

Her pulse raced as the tension reached a breaking point, the air between them crackling with a dangerous energy. Her heart pounded in her chest, and she knew—knew—that she should step back, walk away, stop this before it went any further. But her body was frozen, her mind clouded by the weight of his presence, the heat of his gaze.

Then, before she could think, before she could remind herself of all the reasons this shouldn’t happen, he reached for her.

It wasn’t hesitant. It wasn’t tentative. His hand slid around her waist, pulling her flush against him, and the moment their bodies touched, a spark ignited, sending a rush of heat coursing through her. His other hand came up to her face, his fingers brushing lightly along her jaw, and the touch made her head spin. She felt like she was standing on the edge of a cliff, the ground beneath her crumbling.

"Professor—" she breathed, her voice barely a whisper, but the word died on her lips as his mouth crashed against hers.

The kiss was hard, intense, and it knocked the breath from her lungs. She melted into him before she could think, her hands instinctively finding their way to his chest, feeling the warmth of his body through his shirt. Every inch of her was on fire, her skin burning where he touched her, her mind lost in the sensation of his lips on hers, his body pressed so tightly against hers she could feel the rapid beat of his heart.

His fingers tangled in her hair, pulling her closer, deepening the kiss. Her own hands slid up to his shoulders, gripping the fabric of his shirt as if she needed to hold onto something to keep from falling. The world around them faded into nothing—no city, no streetlights, no boundaries. Just him. Just this moment.

The kiss was overwhelming, a heady mix of desire and urgency, and it felt like everything inside her was unravelling. She kissed him back with an intensity that matched his own, all the weeks of tension and unspoken longing exploding between them in this one stolen moment. Her body responded to his like it had been waiting for this, aching for this, even though her mind knew it was wrong.

It was wrong.

The thought crashed into her, and for a split second, reality snapped back into focus. She was kissing her professor. She had a boyfriend.

Her heart twisted, guilt slamming into her chest like a tidal wave, but even as the realisation hit, she couldn’t stop. She didn’t want to stop. His hands were still on her, still pulling her closer, his mouth claiming hers like he’d been holding back for too long, and her body was betraying her, responding to him in ways she couldn’t control.

But it couldn’t last.

With a sudden gasp, she pulled back, breaking the kiss. Her chest heaved as she tried to catch her breath, her lips tingling from the intensity of it. His hands stayed on her waist for a moment longer, like he couldn’t quite let go, and his breath was ragged as he stared down at her, his eyes dark with desire.

For a long moment, neither of them spoke. The weight of what had just happened hung between them, the air thick with tension, but also something else—something more dangerous. She could still feel the heat of his lips on hers, the way his body had felt pressed so tightly against her. Her head spun, her thoughts a mess of confusion and guilt.

"This..." she whispered, her voice shaky, "this was a mistake."

He didn’t respond right away, his gaze still locked on her, his breath still uneven. Finally, he exhaled, his hands slipping from her waist. His jaw tightened, but his eyes softened just slightly as he nodded.

"I know," he said quietly, though there was a reluctance in his voice, like part of him didn’t want to admit it. "I know."

She stepped back, putting a little more distance between them, though her body still ached from the loss of his touch. Her mind was reeling, trying to process everything—what had just happened, what it meant. She wanted to say something, anything, but the words wouldn’t come. The guilt was already creeping in, wrapping around her like a vice, suffocating her.

Her phone buzzed in her hand, and she looked down to see a message from Logan: "He’s home now. Be home soon."

Her stomach twisted, the guilt flooding her all over again. She swallowed hard, the weight of what she’d just done crashing down on her.

"You should go inside," Professor Leclerc said, his voice softer now, quieter. His gaze flicked down to her phone, then back to her eyes, and she could see the flicker of understanding there. He knew. He knew what this meant, what they’d both just crossed.

Without another word, she nodded, turning away from him. Her legs felt weak, shaky, as she walked back toward the door of her building, her heart still racing in her chest.

She didn’t look back as she stepped inside.

But the kiss lingered. The heat of it, the way his lips had felt on hers, the way she had wanted more even though she shouldn’t have. And she knew, even as the door closed behind her, that she wasn’t sure how to stop herself from wanting it again.

The door closed behind her with a soft click, but the echo of the kiss still buzzed through her body. She felt unsteady, her heart still racing as she leaned against the cold wall of her apartment building’s lobby. She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to slow her breathing, to erase the memory of his lips on hers, the warmth of his body pressed against hers.

But it wasn’t that easy.

Her phone buzzed again, still in her hand, Logan’s new message lighting up the screen.

"Love you x"

She blinked at the text, the words twisting in her chest like a dagger. She felt sick—her stomach knotting painfully as the reality of what she’d just done sank in fully. She had crossed a line, a line that should never have been crossed. She had kissed her professor. And not just kissed him—wanted it, craved it, even as her mind screamed at her to stop.

Her fingers tightened around the phone, her knuckles turning white. She could still feel the weight of Professor Leclerc’s touch, his hand on her waist, the way he’d pulled her so close. It had been magnetic, a pull she couldn’t resist. But the guilt...the guilt was crushing now.

This was wrong.

She had a boyfriend—a good one. Logan was sweet, reliable, someone she could trust. He had never given her a reason to doubt him, never hurt her. And yet here she was, standing in the lobby of her apartment building, flushed and trembling from a kiss with another man. Her professor. A man she shouldn’t have been thinking about in that way at all.

She pushed herself off the wall and started walking down the hallway, her steps shaky. The apartment she shared with Logan was just a few floors up, and she needed to pull herself together before he got home. Her mind raced as she thought of him walking through the door, greeting her with that warm smile he always had after a long day. The thought made her chest tighten with guilt, but at the same time, she couldn’t stop thinking about Professor Leclerc. How his eyes had darkened when he looked at her, how the heat of his body had set her alight in a way she hadn’t felt in so long.

She stopped at her door, her keys fumbling in her hand. She didn’t want to face Logan tonight, but she had no choice. Taking a deep breath, she forced the guilt to the back of her mind and unlocked the door.

The apartment was quiet, and as she stepped inside, it felt almost suffocating. She kicked off her shoes and set her bag down, her mind still buzzing with everything that had happened. She went to the bathroom, splashing cold water on her face, hoping it would help clear her head.

Staring at her reflection in the mirror, she barely recognized herself. Her cheeks were flushed, her lips still tingling from the kiss, and there was something in her eyes—a glint of something dangerous, something she didn’t want to acknowledge.

What is happening to me?

She pressed her hands to the cool porcelain of the sink, her breathing shallow as she tried to push away the images that kept flashing in her mind—Professor Leclerc’s hands, his lips, the heat of his body.

Before she could spiral any further, she heard the sound of the front door opening. Her heart jumped into her throat as she straightened up, quickly drying her face with a towel.

"Hey, babe," Logan’s voice called from the other room. He sounded tired but happy, as if nothing in the world was wrong. "Sorry I was long. Alex was a mess."

"Yeah, no problem," she replied, her voice strained as she forced herself to smile and walk out of the bathroom.

Logan was in the kitchen, setting down a new bottle of wine and two donuts. His smile lit up his face as he looked at her, completely unaware of the storm inside her. He crossed the room, wrapping her in a warm hug.

"I got your favourite," he said, kissing her forehead. "Figured we could have a cosy night in since our nice dinner out was ruined."

The warmth of his embrace made her stomach turn, the guilt nearly suffocating now. She closed her eyes for a moment, leaning into him, trying to convince herself that this was enough. That this was what she wanted.

But then, her mind betrayed her again. She thought of Professor Leclerc, the way he’d looked at her when he handed her the phone, the feel of his lips crashing against hers. It was wrong—so, so wrong—but it had awakened something inside her she hadn’t expected.

Logan pulled back slightly, his eyes searching hers. "You okay?" he asked, his brow furrowing in concern. "You seem a little...off. Are you sick?"

"I’m fine," she lied, forcing a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. "Just tired, I guess. It’s been a long day."

He nodded, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. "Well, let’s eat these donuts. It’ll help."

They sat down on their shared bed, Logan talking animatedly about how fucked Alex was and his plans for the weekend. She tried to focus, to engage with him like she normally would, but her mind kept drifting. Every time she looked at him, the guilt gnawed at her, but every time she looked away, her thoughts returned to the kiss. She kept replaying it in her mind, the heat of it, the way it had made her feel so alive.

Halfway through dinner, her phone buzzed again. She glanced down, half-expecting it to be another message from one of her apps. But it wasn’t. It was from Professor Leclerc. A private message from her fucking University service.

"Did you get home okay?"

Her heart skipped a beat, her fingers trembling slightly as she stared at the screen. She shouldn’t respond. She knew she shouldn’t respond. But her body reacted before her mind could catch up.

"Yes. Thanks again for the ride."

She pressed send before she could stop herself, her pulse quickening as the message sent. She looked up, realising Logan was watching her, and her stomach twisted.

"Who’s that?" he asked casually, taking a sip of his wine.

"Just a classmate, she’s also struggling on Leclerc’s essay," she lied again, feeling the weight of the lie settle over her like a heavy blanket. She hated how easy it was becoming to deceive him.

Logan smiled, oblivious to the war raging inside her, and continued eating. But she could barely take another bite of her donut, her stomach in knots as she waited for a reply.

And then, a few seconds later, her phone buzzed again.

"Anytime."

Her heart pounded as she read the message, her mind spinning. She knew she was in too deep, that she was teetering on the edge of something dangerous, something she couldn’t come back from. But even now, with Logan sitting right across from her, she couldn’t stop thinking about Professor Leclerc.

She couldn’t stop thinking about how wrong it was.

And how much she wanted it to happen again.

part three

[altcvnningham]

needy

adler x f!bell

summary: adler gets up for a morning cigarette. or tries to. read on ao3

tags/cw: established adlerbell, f!bell, she/her pronouns, bell is russian, fluff, light angst, no plot, drabble, smoking mention, kind of domestic i guess, bo6 adler so he's a little soft, pre-bo6 but post-panama, cw references galore, dog imagery as is synonymous w adlerbell atp, author has adhd and goes on prosaic rambles in lieu of an actual plot. this fic could have been an email?? sorry wc: 3.1k

a/n: bwuhhh this was just an excuse to write self indulgent soft morning adlerbell at the rook while i work on my actual pre-bo6 adlerbell rook fic when i have the energy . no plot, lots of rambling, once again kind of just a thinkpiece on their relationship now adler's an old fossil. idk she was doing nothing being left in my notes app ajdkhjkasjk

He reckons she’s needier these days, more than she ever used to be back in Berlin.

Sometimes he wonders if it’s just his age that makes him feel that way; that perhaps she hasn’t changed at all, and instead it’s the dust settling on his bones, rusted shrapnel over the years snagged in the joints and sinews, that makes him feel sluggish in comparison. It’s the first time in his life since Livingstone brought up the CIA’s desire for more sprightly recruits that he wonders- is he struggling to keep up?

Their reunion after all these years was a messy one: a scrap in an indistinct bar, bloodied knuckles split and bruises welted dark blue, the white of his eye burst red, the curve of her jaw swollen for a good week. Fresh after Panama. As soon as she caught wind of what happened she’d picked up his trail barely a week after he arrived in Bulgaria. Had she come to kill him? He doesn’t know. It isn’t as if she’d confess to it even if she had, and maybe he had it coming anyway. It stopped mattering at all the second the fight had descended into the alleyway, wrestled onto their backs against the cobblestone, where hands had found throats and then jaw, waist, hip, and everything else. Punches had calmed to caresses, curses to kisses, and somehow he’d found himself patching her up back at the Rook, his stray dog come home to him, like old times.

She’d eased herself back into his life easily enough then. Simple and unspoken. Or, rather, wedged her foot back in the door well enough that he couldn’t shut her out again, even if he’d wanted to (as if he hadn’t always kept it ajar all these years just to let her in, never closed, never closed). Never a word for what they are, what they have, the routine they’ve slipped almost effortlessly back into again- that hasn’t changed since the old days- and yet he doesn’t find that it robs it of meaning whatsoever.

If anything, it makes it something rare, special, his diamond in the rough, glinting sea glass washed a perfectly chiselled bead upon the shore. Just as she’d crashed along with the tide as time brought her back to him, he picked her up, tucked her gently back into that place she belonged, in between the rib and vertebrae, nestled inside him all to steady the beat of his restless heart. Her alone enough to settle the frantic, ceaseless palpitations he’s suffered nightly, since… Solovetsky? He thinks? The dull gnawing in the back of his mind all those years in between, that wasn’t sure if he was more frightened for her inevitable return or her disappearing forever, slipping through his fingers back to sea again.

He supposes it doesn’t matter anymore. That was then, and now seemed to fare much nicer.

Now, she rolls sweet and placid onto her back against the mattress, limp as a daisy in rain, soft body bowing to his careful manhandling; he’s itching for a smoke, aching for his vice the second he awoke, hours too early for his alarm. He lifts her off him delicately, almost methodical as he starts with her arm, the heavy loll of her head, her shoulder. Like defusing a bomb, he’d joked once, a comparison she’d only proven right by her explosive reaction to it.

It’s an odd feeling, though, the calm where there had once been nothing but war between them, the quiet, the warmth upon his chest now fading where she’d laid her head after he came back last night- back home, back to her- and it’s in moments like these, just mere glimpses of normalcy, that makes him wonder what could have been his life, theirs, had things not happened the way they did. MK Ultra, Berlin, Solovetsky. Perseus. Then again, he supposes, if she hadn’t been shot in Trabzon that night, if she hadn’t been there at all, then he wouldn’t have known she’d even existed. This mundane moment lost to time like everything else.

She murmurs in her sleep, spurred to wakefulness when the mattress lifts and groans at his absence, her eyes squinting through the sliver of morning light bleeding through the gap in the curtains; even when she’s completely out of it, she doesn’t miss a thing. He’s never exactly been the paragon of stealth when he excels at everything else, but even if every factor in the world had worked in his favour- if the beaten mattress wasn’t so rusted, if the ancient floorboards didn’t squeal underfoot when he stood up, if there wasn’t a constant draft on his side of the room that hit her as soon as he moved- nothing would have stopped her from registering his absence, clawing to fight off sleep just so she had an excuse to grouse at him. Ever his stubborn girl.

“Mm… where y’going…?”

Adler smiles to himself, flat but genuine, stifled by the lethargy that hangs over his head heavy as an anvil. Her accent so thick in the early hours it hardly sounds like English at all. He’s half tempted to reply in Russian, just to see if her cottonmouth tongue latches quicker to that instead.

But he doesn’t, just lingers in the doorway leading out to the hall, feeling only a little guilty for letting in the cold. It rather satisfies him instead to see her shiver and pull the blankets further over herself, keeping her right where he wants her. Right where he needs her, so he knows she’ll still be there when he comes back.

“Smoke,” is all he says, rattling the crumpled pack for her to hear.

She’s half coherent when she grumbles, English sandwiched between Russian endearments. Cussing him out.

“Y’can smoke in here… m’don’t mind. Come back to bed.”

Something tugs at his heart, almost foreign, vague. Something he only feels when she digs her claws in him just like that, even if only to graze. It’s the same certainty as when he wraps his finger around a trigger, pulls a pin, wrenches his hand around the hilt of a knife- unspoken, inevitable. The drop of a guillotine, inexorably quick. A certainty that verges on frightening, a promise, which he’s never been good at keeping, but knows she means wholeheartedly, down to her marrow. Possessiveness, he thinks- (is it irony, now, how often he finds her fist wrapped around the leash he doesn’t even notice he’s wearing?)- people not in their line of work, those with nice houses and desk jobs and white picket fences, he’s heard, call that feeling belonging. To be beckoned like that. Home.

It’s her demand that he stays. Hardly a question. And Bell doesn’t beg.

He’s sure that in her spitefulness, if he’d had a trigger phrase just like hers, she’d spit it at him ‘til he turned heel and crawled back on over to her, slid under the sheets like an apology scrawled onto a note and tucked under the door. It’s a near enough thing- the way her bleary eyes fix on him vengefully through matted lashes, searing her betrayal into him. Every morning he gets up before her, it seems to say: you left me. A petulant notion, only half serious, but one cold enough that it almost works. Frigid. Familiar. Arctic air.

It works a little at least- getting soft in your old age- because he lugs himself back over to the bed and just stands by it, refusing to give her the satisfaction of quiet victory if he climbs back inside. She stretches a languid arm flat across the mattress, rolling catlike onto her stomach, splaying her fingers in the hopes that she might somehow pull him back in to her. She manages a knuckle grazing his knee, before she gives up, pulled under by sleep once more. Head slumped against the pillow, she muffles her disdain.

But Adler is nothing if not at least a little amenable. If he’s sweet on anyone, it’s his Bell. His baby. Hard to let a thing like that go, when she was quite literally made for him. Made by him, in his image. Scraped marrow from rib like Adam, caulking the hole Arash shot through her chest and bestowed life upon her once more. He’s happy to have a piece of himself broken off and left inside her, a tithe tossed to the slab of her altar. The fracture of his soul a discarded lamb in sacrifice, sustaining the sick hunger that starves her.

It keeps them inseparable, he thinks. He’d read something somewhere, pretentious shlock about strings of fate and those bound to it- romantic crap shmucks use to justify ugly marriages and affairs, the suffering of co-dependency given some transcendent meaning, a purpose greater than the mundane. The notion that two people, by whatever higher power, are bound to one another no matter what they do to separate themselves of it, tethered from their first breath and suffering an endless togetherness until their last. He’d rolled his eyes the first time he’d heard of it- there wasn’t a world where he’d be enough of a sap to actually buy into that shit. Maybe his ex-wife might’ve been fond of it, maybe it was something she wrote into one of the letters he kept under his bunk back in ‘Nam. He doesn’t know.

But Bell made him understand it. He’d dug a grave in her when he denied her her own on that airstrip in Turkey, and he buried himself in it, over and over again. His memories, his life, his voice ringing like God’s. His favourite things, treasured, secret. His fears and doubts and worries, every little thing that made up the culmination of his being. It was never just Vietnam he put there. It was everything. She’s half himself, a faded mirror image. It only makes sense that they’d find each other again, eventually. She’d walk the earth, stalking like a bloodhound trailing his dried scent until she found him. She’d roam the endless nights, a ghost shivering their old haunts until he meanders his way back to her again, pulled along by a gnawing ache inside himself- a missing piece he’d seek the rest of his life to fill. She could track him blind. And he would feel her coming, like blood in the water. He did. He did.

It’s that tether that makes it impossible not to relent to her, when he kneels down next to the bed, knee joint cracking under his weight, the mottled floorboard doing nothing to steady him. It’s her, when she has enough leverage now to close the distance between her fingers and the collar of his shirt, curled inside the bleached cotton, fist wrenched tight. The seam digs into the back of his neck but he doesn’t let her pull him to her; he waits, making her work for it. The satisfaction that tends to follow when she does is usually worth her ingratiation.

She drags herself across the mattress, using his body as an anchor. Heavy and boneless, she lays right at the edge of the bed where he kneels, her nose nudging at his jaw as she turns, belly up like prey. Too easy a kill, he knows that. She’s gloating. The fact he’d come back at all means she’s got him right where she wants.

“C’mere,” she murmurs gently, saccharine, cloying. He’s surprised it doesn’t make her gag- the pretend domesticity of it all. Dragging her dried lips, smiling, against the underside of his jaw, her fingers sliding idle up the back of his neck, arm slung around his shoulder like she’s expecting to be carried out.

He humours her with a smirk, his blues nearly grey in the dim dark of the room as she mouths at him, vying for his attention. It’s as much a demand as her words had been, sharp as her tone as she nips at his jaw. Adler sighs, as though turning his face to gaze down at her were something laborious, and not the blessing he counts on every finger, every day, seemingly numbered since Panama. He tuts, and it says, what am I going to do with you?

But if his condescension was an attempt to dissuade her advances, it doesn’t work, because she sees right through his playful façade, and the wry smile that unfurls sleepy on her lips betrays her excitement, the sifting of her legs under the sheets audible as she squeezes them together. Needy. She knows he notices.

“Not gonna work, Bell,” he hums dryly. Yet he steals this moment of her surrender, his eyes flitting to every feature of her face. He doesn’t need to commit her to memory, she’s dug in there like a tick. But God, if he doesn’t like to look at her. He brings a rough hand down against her temple, smoothing the baby hairs back, eliciting a satisfied sigh from her as her eyes slip shut. Her head falls back against the pillow, anticipating a kiss he doesn’t give her.

“C’mon. Back to sleep. I’ll be ten minutes.”

“Five.”

“Bell.”

“Five minutes.”

Adler sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose and scrunching his eyes shut.

“C’mon,” she croons, “five minutes… n’then…”

He thinks she’s fallen back asleep, the way her sentence carries off like that into silence. But when he opens his eyes she’s blinking prettily up at him, looking far too satisfied. Just as he opens his mouth to ask why, he feels the warm press of her hand against his knee, sliding up his thigh, fingertips tugged impishly at the sweatpants he’d haphazardly thrown on. He’s lightning quick to catch her, fingers circling her wrist; where the darting action might scare a weaker person it makes Bell’s eyes light up like stars, enamoured with his roughness. Excited. The way only she could be, eager pup biting at his ankles for a reaction.

“Behave,” he scolds, giving her knuckle a cursory smack before releasing her. That must finally be enough to spoil her fun, because she huffs, growling low in her throat, and rolls back over, burrowing herself deeper into the blanket than she’d begun.

It’s always a game to her, one she doesn’t much like losing. He can’t blame her for it. It’s always been that way. Back in Berlin, he’d taught her to play poker the proper way, the American way- whatever that meant- her downfall eternally being the fact she couldn’t bluff for shit around him. And it was just him- she’d caught on quick to the play, and had triumphed a couple times against Sims and Lazar; Park had refused to indulge the game, and Woods wiped the floor with the lot of them, even Adler. But with him, Bell just couldn’t lie. He was carved from marble, impassable- what he’d been trained to do. And she was a piece chipped off his softest part, malleable- of course he’d catch every minute twitch and wince, the flitting of wet lashes, the purse of an uncertain lip. She always told him the truth even with her eyes, her heart bore on her sleeve. It almost always felt like cheating. After all, it was what she was made for, wasn’t it?

And this felt much the same way. Not as strict as the luck of dealt hands and stifled poker faces but she’s never said or done anything to him she doesn’t mean. After he missed the shot in Solovetsky, all cards were strewn on the table. There was no mystery anymore. No joy taken in a good old fashioned backstab when the real damage was done, much too late to rectify. Maybe that’s why she makes it her personal goal to poke and prod and tease him now, chasing her fun in her own way, a decade late. Suppose it’s why she hates when he doesn’t just drop the cool attitude and give in.

He rises from the floor, that same knee joint clicking again. Where she might have mumbled a curt jibe about it, she’s silent, sulking into the pillow.

But just as he goes to leave, Adler stops at the door, a foot out into the hallway, the rest of him still stuck here, stuck on her. He sees a similar image in the back of his mind, of her laid upon the gurney in Die Landebahn, halfway into the back room with a syringe in hand when for one single moment of sobriety it dawned on him, what he’d been doing to her. Nothing like guilt, but it came close. Tinged with the regret of something so shameful as affection, Cupid’s arrow dipped in kerosene, shot straight through his heart; to come out the other side, to let him survive, to let him have this, here, her, now. And it’s a torture to have lived it, to know he doesn’t deserve a lick of it. The soft rise and fall of her breath beneath the blanket. Her hair splayed upon his pillow. She buries her nose deep in the old goose feather to try and keep him where he’s left her. Hold him close even when he’s gone.

The decade’s done much to him. He’d put on a couple pounds, had to start plucking the errant greys flecking his hairline, begun to wake most mornings with a tell-tale crick in his neck. He’s learned to relax that hard line in his brow, drawn too deep to reverse the evidence of age; let himself laugh a little easier, surprised people with his newfound ability to actually smile. He’s lost a lot, gained half as much. He’d been through hell and back, worse maybe than what he did to her- his karma, he supposes. And he supposes the decade’s made him soft, sentimentality creeping in to nestle somewhere he can’t reach, hidden inside himself with all the other things he doesn’t talk about. And he supposes of everything he’s lost, he has Bell again, and all things considered- it’s a fair trade.

He sucks in a breath, a sigh made audible for her to hear. Even as she feigns sleep, he knows she catches it, a flinch of her shoulder- where the shot he missed had landed in lieu of her head. In Solovetsky.

Then, Adler sighs, followed by a promise that feels to her like a confession.

“Five minutes.”

And when the door clicks shut, Bell steals herself a little victory smile.

[miguelhugger2099]

Hiii, I’m in love with your writing it’s a comfort for me atp. Could you please do grumpy reader where she doesn’t talk to others a lot. That makes Miguel look like an extrovert (even though we both know that’s not true 😭). Happy Easter 🐣 and or any holiday you celebrate.

Two Peas in a Pod

c.....comfort,,,,, sad hamster meme the highest honor i could ever get omg thank you i really liked this ask because its basically me haha my friend actually told me ive gotten better at being more welcoming and "nice" and another friend would tell me that i could never mask my uncomfortableness if someone was bothering me LMFAO but as alwayyssssss i can rewrite this request for u if ur not satisfied :) Art: nellwhre17 on instagram

Spider-People were supposed to be funny and outgoing. It was in their canon to have some resemblance to the original quippy and humorous Spider-Man. If not outgoing then at least a little endearing and sweet.

So the Spider Society is a little thrown off when you’re introduced to the team by Miguel. Both of your arms are crossed, your face blank and looking over other Spiders with neutrality. 

“Here’s our new recruit. She’ll be working more with Margo and Lyla. Think of her as one of your superiors like myself or Jess or Peter B.” Miguel tilts his head at all the other Spiders. “That’s all. Dismissed.”

He turns to face back to his console, returning to work on new files Lyla had presented to him. Some Spiders stay to chat with you. They don’t notice the slight discomfort and annoyance in your face.

“Hey! My name is Peter M! I think we might be the same age!” One says, his mask squinting to look like he’s smiling.

“Have you gone on a mission yet? What Earth are you from?”

“Has Miguel explained The Canon to you yet? It’s a little overwhelming, I know.”

The commotion irks you a bit, the Spiders coming into your personal space so you shuffle away and your brows instinctively scrunch together. “No, I’m fine.” You mutter curtly. The others finally see the change in your demeanor and they awkwardly step back.

Miguel turns over to see the few Spiders around and barks at them to stop. “She’s still new to all this so don’t go around pestering her.” 

They smile wearily up at him then at you, whose face is still contorted a bit in a way that looks like you’re obviously still being bothered. 

They get the message and wave goodbye to you but not without feeling a chill down their spine at how cold you were. Maybe you were just shy. Everything is and always will be overwhelming around here with different variants of yourself. So, they believed in time you’d come around like the others.

You, in fact, did not come around. After weeks, months even, you still came in and left without a word. Get in and get out. You rarely engaged in conversation and if you were in a group, you’d keep to yourself. If someone tried to include you, you’d just say a few blunt words that didn’t move the conversation at all so there'd be an awkward standstill before moving on.

No matter what, no one knew anything else about you besides your name, you were a Spider-Woman and the name of your Earth.

Even the esteemed group of young SpiderLings couldn’t even get you to open up. Jess and Gwen had just come back from a mission, wanting to eat at the cafeteria before heading home. They had found seats beside Hobie and Pav who were just catching up together.

Pav had mentioned trying to talk to you once but his bright personality pushed you further and further away from him, your responses to his questions becoming more and more short and quick.

“I’ve never met such a complicated individual.” He pouts, crossing his arms on the table.

“Don’ bother me none. I don’ like someone tryin’ to bug me either.” Hobie scratches the back of his neck. 

“Would’ve thought they opened up by now.” Gwen brushed her hair out her face. “It’s like pulling teeth with her.”

“She just seems kinda grumpy sometimes…” Pav sighs resting his head in his arms. “Even more than Miguel which feels wrong.” 

“Yeah, at least Miguel snaps at you but she…kinda just sits there.” Gwen leans back with a weak smile. “Not really sure how to make conversation when she’s so quiet.”

“She just doesn’t feel like talking, guys. Go easy on her.” Jess rubs her temples. 

Their conversation is cut short when Miguel walks through the cafeteria, documents in hand and with you in tow. Speak of the Devil. 

“Jess, Gwen, I misremembered about giving you the reports of your last mission together. I also have the analysis for the next one on Earth—199B.” Miguel hands the reports to Jessica and she immediately skims through it. Gwen looks over her shoulder and gives you a smile.

“Hey, how’s it going?” She asks. 

You respond with a shrug and a nod. “Good.”

Gwen’s smile wavers, laughing nervously as the awkward silence. She expected some sort of greeting back. 

Miguel answers for you. “She’s been with me the whole day since Peter’s been busy at home.” Gwen looks to Miguel.

“And how about you, boss? Doin’—uh—doin’ good?”

Miguel sighs, crossing his arms. “Better now that Margo fixed what Hobie broke in the console room.”

Hobie tsks. “Did not. You’re jus’ blamin’ me ‘cause I’m the scapegoat around ‘ere. Tha’ it?” 

Miguel pulls up camera footage from his Gizmo, of Hobie pulling apart different motherboards and CPUs from the server and tucking them away in his pocket. “Is this not you?!”

Hobie squints at the footage and shrugs. “AI has truly come a long way, mate. Bettah check tha’ out.”

Gwen, Pav and Jessica laugh at the scene, giggling at the sheer anger on Miguel’s face and Hobies indifference. You watch with a soft smile up at Miguel but nothing else.

Miguel feels your hand on his forearm and he looks down at you. You nod your head to the side, signaling it’s time to go. He looks at the time on his watch and collects himself. 

“We’re gonna head out. Don’t bother us unless there’s an emergency and be alert for any sudden messages should I need to contact any of you for anomalies.” He turns and gives a small wave before leaving, you trailing behind him.

You don’t say much other than looking behind to give them a small nod and following beside Miguel.

The group watches as Miguel talks to you, relating information and talking your ear off about missions and the to-do for the day. You listen quietly, eyes held on his and nodding along.

They glance at each other and think they would’ve never seen a person more closed off than Miguel in their lifetime. Even less where it looks like he’s more talkative compared to you. What an odd pair. “I think she has opened up. Maybe just not with us.” Jess leans back with a smile.

[bowlofsoob]

SOOBIN AS YOUR MUTUAL THAT YOU HATE IRL — part one

part two

soobin x gender neutral reader

you and “steve” have been mutuals on twitter for almost a year as you both run bebe rexha fan accounts. he uses a fake name and you guys get along well, you talk to him more than your irl friends atp. on the other hand you and soobin don’t get along irl after constantly competing for the number one spot on the academic leaderboard. since then he always gives you a rbf and says he finds you too obnoxious. but that all changes when you finally decide to meet your favorite oomf in person.

notes; this could be an entire smau lowk but i’m lazy so take the part one and part two xx

later that week

__________________ ׂׂૢ་༘࿐་༘

Your stomach was swarming with nerves as you made your way inside the cafe, the scent of freshly made coffee and sweaty college students surrounding you as you slid into line. Admittedly, you never thought you’d get the chance to meet Steve, or whatever his actual name was, he was just your cute internet friend and nothing would ever happen. That was, until today.

It was a bit embarrassing that you stared at the selfie he’d sent for longer than you should’ve. It was difficult to comprehend the boy you’d been talking to for so long was hiding such a pretty figure.

You eye the display of cakes and decide to pick one up for the both of you as Steve had already promised to get you guys coffee. You felt bad going empty handed after finally meeting him.

You reach down to grab onto the last chocolate slice and your hands meet another. Usually, you’d let it slide and choose something else even though you touched it first. But, when you looked to your left and locked eyes with your self-proclaimed enemy, Choi Soobin, those thoughts washed away. You were going to fight for that slice of mediocre cake.

“Not you again,” Soobin sighed, tugging the slice towards him, “Don’t be obnoxious.”

“Says you,” you scoff, tightly grabbing onto the plate, “Why are you always so rude towards me?”

“Ask yourself the same thing,” Soobin replies, his large hands tugging the cake closer towards him, “Choose something else.”

“You choose something else, I got to it first!”

“Ok and?” Soobin questions, like the little shit he is.

“Fine, just take it,” you sigh, not wanting to make Steve wait. But as you let go of the cake and step back you notice Soobin’s outfit. He was adorned in clothes that oddly resembled the photo Steve had sent you.

“You made me lose my appetite,” Soobin mutters, dropping the cake and shuffling past you. You shake off the familiarity and make your way towards the back. Most men wore the same clothes, it was nothing.

__________________ ׂׂૢ་༘࿐

__________________ ׂׂૢ་༘࿐

You eye the walls of the cafe until you come across the tiled design. You start scouring the seats for someone that resembled Steve but the only person in your vicinity was Soobin.

You inch your way closer towards him with morbid curiosity, hoping that your suspicions would be proved wrong. But as you got closer the drinks on the table and location of your rival were too similar to the photo Steve had sent you.

Unfortunately, Soobin locked eyes with you.

“What do you want? Are you here to apologize?” he questions, playing with the straw of his drink as he barely give you a glance.

“Steve?” you tentatively ask, your voice hoarse from the nerves. This couldn’t be happening.

Soobin pauses.

“What?” he slowly asks, turning to look at you, “What did you call me?”

“Oh my god,” you gasp, “Are you pagebebe?”

“What…,” he starts, catching on, “You’re bebeyn4lyfe?”

Your username sounds foreign on his tongue but it was him. Soobin was your steve. Your beloved Steve was the same guy you’ve been on bad terms with all year. Just your luck.

Before Soobin could comprehend anything or you could answer, you decide to do the most mature thing anyone would do in that situation.

You run.

And he doesn’t follow.

__________________ ׂׂૢ་༘࿐

__________________ ׂׂૢ་༘࿐

[seasirengirl]

LEO VALDEZ DATING HCS

pairing: leo valdez x reader (godly parent not specified)

a/n: sorry for the super duper slow updates, my life has been a mess🫶🏼

ೀ friends to lovers is a trope owned by leo valdez and no one can change my mind

ೀ he’s such a shameless flirt

ೀ nicknames in spanish.

ೀ i repeat

ೀ nicknames in spanish.

ೀ he’s such a fun person to be around

ೀ always cracking jokes and all that

ೀ but

ೀ hold up

ೀ he doesn’t crack jokes at times when you don’t feel like hearing them, even though he’s known for doing that to others, you’re his exception

ೀ you two went everywhere together

ೀ quest? together

ೀ spending nights at bunker 9? not without you

ೀ he felt guilty for making you stay there though

ೀ but then you started ranting about how much you loved staying there

ೀ and he just couldn’t say no to you

ೀ or your pretty face

ೀ but we all know that you didn’t really think bunker 9 was the most comfortable place to sleep in

ೀ you just wanted to stay with your repair boy

ೀ after being two idiots who were very much in love but would never admit it

ೀ your friends got sick of it

ೀ y’know what that meaaannssss

ೀ at first percy and annabeth started talking about it

ೀ apparently piper and jason also had discussed it before (mostly piper)

ೀ frank and hazel are just there yknow

ೀ chilling

ೀ with no clue about what’s going on

ೀ anyway

ೀ doing very couple-ish things all together

ೀ there were eight of you.

ೀ obviously meaning that

ೀ you and leo had to be dragged into all of that

ೀ which neither of you complained about

ೀ but you wouldn’t say it

ೀ going on carnival dates <3

ೀ well they weren’t technically dates for you and leo

ೀ but they felt like dates

ೀ the other six ditched you every second

ೀ and you two still managed to be clueless

ೀ smh

ೀ honestly thank the gods for piper

ೀ when you AND leo both found out about your feelings at the same time

ೀ you were both ranting to her

ೀ cause she’s the daughter of aphrodite

ೀ ykyk

ೀ and also a great friend

ೀ but she needed a break atp

ೀ hearing both of you yap about each other not knowing that the other feels the same

ೀ until one day she had ENOUGH

ೀ bro was tired fr

ೀ so she decided to make both of you a bit jelly

ೀ not a bit tbh, a lot

ೀ yk, telling leo that the new guy from cabin 7 was talking about asking you out

ೀ or telling you that one of her sisters were going to make a move on leo at the bonfire tonight

ೀ leo couldn’t let some guy try to make a move on his girl

ೀ and you couldn’t either

ೀ so

ೀ both of you decided to confess at the same time

ೀ leo walked up to you just as you were about to find him

ೀ “can we go somewhere private?”

ೀ such a simple sentence left you speechless, only managing a nod

ೀ “i don’t want you to go out with him” leo blurted out

ೀ “with who?” you asked, did you have a date you forgot about?

ೀ “andrew, the new guy from 7?”

ೀ “i’m not going on a date with him, oh wait- piper...”

ೀ silence. total silence.

ೀ “i have something to-“

ೀ “i have to tell y-“

ೀ you couldn’t help but laugh at that, “go ahead.”

ೀ“i would say ‘ladies first’, but i have to say this, ever since i stepped a foot in camp, i’ve had a crush on you, so will you do the honors of being my girl?”

ೀ “i’d love to.”

ೀ “so would it be okay if i-“

ೀ “shut up, valdez”

ೀ and he did shut up, because his tongue was too busy being down your throat

ೀ ok what.

ೀ anyway

ೀ after that night, your friends wished they never set you two up

ೀ they were just jealous that you two were a better couple than them

ೀ or that’s what you thought

ೀ leo was actually the best boyfriend you could ask for

ೀ he would make you the coolest gifts ever

ೀ any kind of jewellery a girl could dream of

ೀ he made it

ೀ flowers that never die, all yours

ೀ honestly you can’t recall a night that you haven’t slept without leo in winter

ೀ slept.

ೀ he kept you so warm when it was cold out

ೀ cause he’s your fireboy

ೀ he’s so touchy and always has to have his arm around you somehow

ೀ but he wouldn’t be much of a pda guy

ೀ especially it it makes you uncomfortable.

[dorotheataylor]

Back to December

Pairing- Geto Suguru x Fem!Reader

Summary- You broke up with him because you thought he deserved someone better than you. But here you stand, outside his door, apologising for that night, after realising you loved him too much to let him go. Based on Back to December (Taylor’s Version) by Taylor Swift.

Warnings- angstttt but fluff at the end, hurt/comfort, no curses!au, swearing (maybe), slight ooc suguru (hes called clumsy hehe), probably my english lol.

Word count- 2.3k (excluding lyrics)

A/N- atp yall just know how much big of a swiftie I am lol. So here’s a new fic based on another taylor song haha. And from now on I will write for JJK fandom too coz i’m obsessed lmao. Let me know if you find any mistakes coz this isn’t proofread and hope y’all enjoy.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

You knocked three times on the door of the house you knew all too well as you picked your nails.

Will he want to see you? Will he shout at you? Will he tell you to get lost? Whatever he does, you knew you deserved it.

You stood outside his door impatiently, nerves getting the best of you while you waited for him to open the door. You could hear things falling down from behind it.

You couldn’t help but chuckle. He was always the clumsy one. One of his things which you missed too much. Your eyes fell on thought of this. Oh how much you wished for a change in your mind back then.

You heard the lock of the door being undone and you started to freak out from inside. Was it a good idea to come here? Maybe. You were about to find out.

“Sorry for the delay. I was caught up-” You heard his voice quiet down when he saw you. God how much you missed his voice. You could listen to his voice every second of the day if possible.

You’ve been good, busier than ever

"Y/N," he breathed, his voice barely above a whisper as he took in your presence on his doorstep, as if he was making sure he wasn’t hallucinating.

The way he said your name, ached your heart. Because it wasn’t filled with love or warmth as before, instead it was more like recognising a stranger.

You took a deep breath before speaking, “long time no see, Suguru.” You smiled slightly.

He couldn’t believe it. He never thought he’d ever see you again after that unfaithful night. The wishes he made to see you every night before he went to bed actually came true. He could actually hear your voice after whole six months. He felt like he was about to cry.

Your guard is up and I know why

All he wanted to do at this moment was to take you in his arms and never let you go again. But he knew he couldn’t. What if you were here to make things even more awful than they already were? He couldn’t handle another heartbreak. So he stood his ground and decided to talk to you in a civil way.

“Come inside. It’ll start s-snowing soon.” He said, mentally cursing himself for stammering as he stepped aside to let you in.

“Thank you.” You muttered before entering his house. The familiar feeling came back to you. The aura and memories of his house, where you had spent countless nights together crashed into your mind like ocean waves. It was overwhelming and you did your best not to burst into tears.

“I’ll bring you something to drink. You can make yourself comfortable till then.” You heard him speak as he quickly walked into the kitchen.

Because the last time you saw me

Is still burned in the back of your mind

You knew he was doing his best to avoid a more than casual conversation with you. Because the last time you had talked, things turned bitter.

You gave me roses and I left them there to die

You still remembered that day like the back of your hand. He had showed up at your house with roses to surprise you and take you out on a surprise date. And you, being a stupid person, ruined it all.

“Here. I didn’t have anything else except for hot chocolate plus I know how much you love it.” He said handing you the cup filled with hot chocolate, his voice becoming a soft mutter at the last part.

‘He still remembers my likes and dislikes.’ You thought as you smiled softly at him and took the cup, your hands brushing a little. Your cheeks immediately turn red as you tried to hide them, while Suguru thanked the gods that his red cheeks won’t be obvious because it’s winter.

I’d go back to December, turn around and make it all right

But you knew him. You were slightly relieved you still had some effects on him like before. How much you regretted leaving him like that. If only you could go back time and make things right.

You took a sip of your hot chocolate before speaking, “thanks for the hot chocolate, Suguru.”

Geto thought he’d just die right now. The way you said his name, it made him want to forget everything that happened and just hold you into his arms, never letting you go again. But he knew he couldn’t do that.

After some long moments of silence, you decided to break it and said, “how have you been, Suguru?”

“I’ve been- good.” He said with a pause in between. He was lying, but he didn’t want you to know his mental state ever since you had left. “What about you?”

You couldn’t repeat his answer for this question, because you knew it was far from the truth. You couldn’t quite recall the last time you slept peacefully. Maybe it was when you were in Suguru’s arms, safe and loved.

Staying up playing back myself leaving

Your mind replayed memories of that unfaithful night, as if trying to torture you for what you had done. It had started to hurt physically. How much you just wanted apologise and hold him into your arms. But you knew you had lost that right. Why? Because of your stupid insecurities.

You had been in a few relationships in the past apart from Geto. And you were always called out for every little thing you did. Whether it was from the way you ate, or the way you talked, they’d make sure to remind you that you weren’t enough and weird, until they all left you alone. This lead you to believe the same, that you were the problem.

That was until you met Suguru. He was everything you could ask in a man. He was charming, a true gentleman, kind and caring boyfriend who never failed to remind you how much you mean to him.

And I think about Summer, all the beautiful times

You often daydreamed about all your memories from your relationship, from sneaking out at night to late night car drives, from celebrating each other’s birthdays to forgetting plans you’d made with your other friends. Your relationship with him was something you read in books about.

You still remembered the day when you realised that he was the guy you were going to marry someday. You had overheard him talking to Gojo about you. You hadn’t meant to eavesdrop but when he mentioned your name, your ears had perked up. And the way be kept on talking about how amazing you were and how much he loved you, you knew he was the one for you.

Then the cold came, the dark days when fear crept right into my mind

But of course you had to ruin it all. The ‘what if’ thoughts came back to you. The thought of losing him because you weren’t good enough for him, scared you. You had told him about your past relationships, and he always reminded you that you are more than enough for him and he loves you with all of his heart.

Fuck your stupid negativity. You tried to believe him, you really did. But your mind wouldn’t let you. So it lead you to the one thing which you knew you were going to regret for the rest of your life. You let him go. And you hated yourself for it.

You gave me all your love and all I gave you was goodbye

You still remembered the way his face had immediately fallen the moment you spoke those words. He had tried to reason with you, but you wouldn’t listen. And you had slammed the door shut on his face.

Geto didn’t stop bombarding your phone with countless texts and missed calls for days. But you didn’t reply to any of them. Until one day he stopped. Maybe he realised that he was just wasting time being after you. Maybe he realised that you were the problem after all.

It turns out freedom ain’t nothing but missing you

Wishing I’d realised what I had when you were mine

You thought you had did the right thing but turns out, you didn’t. You had only made things worse for both of you. Because you know what they say, you only realise the value of something when its gone. And it turns out that you had loved him too much. You couldn’t let him go. Because you had realised that he was too precious for you to let go and you couldn’t survive without him.

So here you were, six months later, on his couch, drinking hot chocolate. You slowly came out of your thoughts and said the only thing which came into your mind, “I’m sorry.”

To say Geto was surprised was an understanding. He expected anything but an apology from you tonight. Blame him for being conscious and hurt. He didn’t say anything, giving the cue to continue.

“I’m so sorry, Suguru.” You started, trying your best not to sob, “I know this is probably the last thing you expect from me and won’t believe me but I mean it. I’m really sorry. I’m such a fucked up person, who always makes things worse, ruins perfectly going on lives of people, who always lives in self-doubts.”

“Y/N, I-”, Geto started to say something but you cut him off before he could say it.

“Please let me finish.” Geto nodded in response.

I miss your tan skin, your sweet smile, so good to me so right

And how you held me in your arms that September night, the first time you ever saw me cry

“I miss everything about you, about us. I miss how every morning you didn’t fail to wish me ‘good morning’, I miss how you never forgot to check up on me, I miss how you always found a way to make me feel special. I miss how you always held me close to you whenever I didn’t feel like myself. And most of all, I miss the way you used to love me.” You said, tears now falling uncontrollably from your eyes but you don’t care, determined to make things right.

I’d go back in time and change it but I can’t

So you continued, “thing is that I love you, Suguru Geto. And I love you too much to let you go. I made a stupid move by letting you go when all I wanted to do was hold you into my arms. And I hate myself for it. These past six months, I’ve been terrible. There’s not been a single day where I have not wished for myself to be somehow able to go back in time and make things right, stop myself from leaving. But I know I can’t.” You took a deep breath.

So if the chain is on your door I understand

“I know my actions are not something to be easily forgiven, but I promise to do anything to win your trust and love back. I’m willing to change. I’m willing to make things up with you. I swear that if you take me back again, I will love you right and never let you go. Because I have realised my life is nothing if you’re not in it. Please take me back, Suguru. I promise to prove myself worthy of your love.” You couldn’t speak anything after this, sobs continuously escaping your mouth.

Geto stood there, tears in his eyes as well, contemplating what to say. Your apology had caught him off guard, but he knew you had meant every word. He knew that his life was incomplete without you too.

But this is me swallowing my pride

You didn’t hear him speak for a good few minutes, so you take his silence as rejection. Of course he would reject you. You had hurt him, why would he want to get back with someone like you. You let out a shaky breath as a sigh, disappointment for you escaping through it as you stood up.

Standing in front of you saying I’m sorry for that night

You attempted to smile through your tears. If this was going to be the last time you see him, might as well say goodbye with a smile.

“I got your answer, Suguru. Thank you for giving me best moments of my life. Maybe I didn’t get to have you back, but at least I can live on with your memories. Maybe I-” You didn’t get to finish your sentence as you felt a pair of all too familiar lips on yours, shutting you up.

It turns our freedom ain’t nothing but missing you

You widened your eyes from surprise but immediately shut them as you kissed back, your hands reaching to hug his neck, bringing him closer to you. Suguru wrapped his one arm around your waist and other made its way in your nape, holding you just like he always used to.

Both of you could taste salty tears as you kissed, but weren’t sure who’s they were. All that mattered in that moment was the two of you. You poured all of your love, apprehensions, bottled up feelings for him, regrets into this kiss. He kissed you with same passion. As if your lips were the only thing he needed to survive.

Few moments later, Geto pulled away, foreheads still attached to yours, as he looked into your eyes. “Y/N, in these six months, you made me realise that the only thing which can complete me whole is you. Not getting to tell you these was tearing me apart. I thought I had lost you for good, but then you showed up at my door and all those feelings I had for you doubled. I love all of you, Y/N and I always will. And I’m willing to give us another chance, just promise me that you will talk to me next time you have those negative thoughts.”

Your heart melted hearing his words as you nodded, “I promise.”

Suguru ran his hand through your hair as he spoke again, “and I-I’ll need some time to completely forgive you. I hope you understand that. I’m just scared that you’ll leave me again.”

You quickly shook your head, “I mean it this time, Suguru. I’d never even dream of leaving you. I just got you back. And it’s okay. Take your time. I’m willing to wait for you, even if it is for an eternity.”

Suguru smiled at your words and pulled you into his chest as he swayed you slowly, holding you tightly close to him, and you finally felt complete again. You kissed his neck as you returned his gesture, silently promising him and yourself to never give up on him and let him go ever again.

I’d go back to December all the time

________________________________________

Ahhh I loved writing angst sm but it always breaks my heart if it doesn’t end with fluff. Anyways hope y’all liked this and if you want, you can send in request for JJK characters too!

(I might’ve gotten a little carried away at the end but i think it was worth it lmao)

[newtonsheffield]

Do we ever see Kate face off against any of Anthony's old tennis partners? Possibly a previous tennis flame? I was just imagining an incredibly dramatic Olympic heat/QF/SF, a hard fought battle, but not for athletic reasons?

Oh it’s a well known fact that once upon a time Anthony Bridgerton wasn’t just a player on the ATP tour. He was a player. And most of the time, that doesn’t really bother Kate. Anthony’s 13 years older than her, he obviously dated before her: Whatever. It is what it is. Anthony has to put up with Kate doing sponsor shoots with Tom Dorset all the time. It’s fine.

Except sometimes it’s really… fucking annoying. Especially when the women feel duty bound to remind her constantly coupled with the fact that Anthony’s enjoying a (well deserved in Kate’s opinion) surge in popularity and notoriety after his Wimbledon win and their doubles bid for the Olympics now.

“I’m surprised you got Anthony out of bed this early.”

Kate’s head jolted to the left to the practice court next door, missing the ball Anthony lobbed across the net to her. “I’m sorry?”

The other woman’s lips curved in a slow smile. “From what I remember he was such a grumpy boy in the mornings.”

Irritation flickered through Kate’s chest. “Well, maybe he has more reason to get out of bed now.”

Anthony jogged over, stopping a little short and shifting nervously on the spot. “oh! Hey Jess.”

“Anthony.” She smiled falsely at Kate. “Kate.”

She strode away and Kate pushed down the strong desire to throw a tennis ball at the back of her head.

“Everything okay?”

“Just peachy!” Kate cleared her throat, “Get back over there.”

It didn’t bother her. Kate reminded herself constantly. It shouldn’t matter. She and Anthony were happy and in a good place and it shouldn’t matter. But every time she stood across the court from one of the women who’d taken it upon themselves to wink and smile at Anthony it made her boiling mad. Not because he ever noticed, in fact, Kate was fairly sure he never did. But in a way that made it even more annoying. That he couldn’t be less interested as they fluttered her eyelids at him while he carried her kit bags to the car.

“It actually bothers you doesn’t it?” Edwina laughed, as Kate smacked the tennis ball at the fence where yet another player turned pundit was sat beside Anthony, flirting and laughing her way through an interview.

“Sorry!” Mary called out to the woman with not a trace of apology, dropping her voice. “At least try to make it less obvious, Darling.”

“It doesn’t bother me.” Kate bit back.

“Really?” Edwina chuckled, “Because you know you’re not actually supposed to treat that thing like a blade right?”

Kate rolled her eyes, “Does it bother you when people flirt with Josie?”

Edwina’s face flickered with irritation. “That’s different.”

“Is it?”

“Yes! Everyone wants to date a football player! That’s the pinnacle for people attracted to athletes!”

“I think a lot of people would disagree with you.” Kate mused, grunting as she sent the ball sailing back over the net.

“Stop changing the subject!”

“No!”

[anodymalion]

Oh man oh man I just saw an Outer Wilds fanart done in the style of a tarot card and I had to immediately drop everything I was doing to think through what an all-Outer-Wilds version of the major arcana would be. I think I have it, it's under the read more because it's long and also there are major major spoilers (unsurprisingly).

0. The Fool: The Hatchling This one is easy. The hatchling is at the beginning of their journey, stepping into the unknown.

1. The Magician: Pye Bringing intention and direction, choosing a path, and channeling cosmic power - yeah I think Pye of “science compels us to explode the sun” fame fits this pretty perfectly.

2. The High Priestess: The Nomai Statues Ok, I kinda struggled with this one, but I think it works. Hidden knowledge, dealing with the mind, the subsconscious vs conscious, veils between worlds. The statues are mysterious and they transmit your knowledge to your previous selves. That fits decently well and also I don’t have a better idea.

3. The Empress: Timber Hearth Ok, I really struggled with this one. I’m going for the themes of creation, life, nature, and nurturing by choosing Timber Hearth since it is literally where life in the solar system grew. I'm not happy with this but whatever.

4. The Emperor: The Vault Authority, establishment, control to the point of domination. They sealed the Prisoner in the vault for defying the system. Plus the Vault looks cool and imposing so we have that going for us.

5. The Hierophant: Solanum Connecting to the past, passing on wisdom, initiation into a spiritual practice (aka reaching the QM). Yeah this is Solanum.

6. The Lovers: Nomai Graveyard (Emotional damage pt 1) I’m so so sorry but it works so well. What says love besides holding your friends close as you all asphyxiate to death?

7. The Chariot: Your Ship Maybe this one is a little too literal but I still think it fits. Determination and drive, knowing where you want to go, overcoming obstacles. Also it's literally your ship. It works.

8. Strength: Chert I’m going to be honest.... Chert is here because they were the only traveler that didn’t have a card that clearly fit, and I couldn’t leave only them out when I gave all the other travelers cards, and I didn’t have another idea for what Strength should be. Hand-wavy explanation: view Strength as getting to the core of confronting your fear and anger and pain and coming out the other side, and, well, Chert having a existential breakdown and then coming to a place of calm acceptance about the inevitability of death sort of… fits…. look just pretend this one makes sense and let’s move along quickly -

9. The Hermit: Feldspar Self-explanatory. The literal solitude, yeah, but also Feldspar is this mentor figure who guides you on your journey, and is apparently happy to just sit and chill in the nightmare hell that is Dark Bramble. It works.

10. The Wheel of Fortune: The Advanced Warp Core in the ATP Change, fate, turning points, cycles - and the breaking of cycles. This is another easy one.

11. Justice: The Prisoner There are a lot of ways you can interpret this. You have the Prisoner defying their society’s rules in an attempt to do what is right, and the strangers believing they were dispensing justice by imprisoning them but actually causing harm. The more I think about this one the more I like it.

12. The Hanged Man: Gabbro Another easy one. Taking a pause to rest, passivity, acceptance, independence, seeing things differently. Plus you even get the literal imagery of them hanging on the hammock, floating in zero-g. This is a slam dunk.

13. Death: The skull + flower from the Strangers’ visions of the Eye Letting go to allow the world to change and let new things grow is literally what this vision is about. Plus it’s a skull! I mean it’s right there.

14. Temperance: Riebeck Steadiness, moderation, plus the duality of Riebeck being terrified of space but still choosing to go out into it.

15. The Devil: The Eye Signal Blocker Destruction, complicity in oppression, avoiding accountability, confronting fear (or avoiding doing so). Oh yeah I’m so on board with this being the Eye Signal Blocker.

16. The Tower: The Interloper (Emotional damage part 2). The destruction of the status quo, disaster, tragedy, upheaval. There is no question here.

17. The Star: The Eye Searching for purpose, navigating a path, themes of renewal. Plus it even kinda has a star-like shape. It’s the Eye.

18. The Moon: The Quantum Moon Look, sometimes the literal choice works. Mystery, secrets, illusions? Yeah, that’s QM alright.

19. The Sun: The Sun Who could have seen this one coming??? ….The thing is… the meaning of the tarot Sun card absolutely doesn’t match the purpose the sun plays in Outer Wilds. But there is nothing else that could be the sun. It’s the sun!

20. Judgement: The Campfire in the Starry Forest Facing yourself, facing the truth, acceptance, ultimately letting go so that you can reach the end. Yeah.

21. The World: The Big Bang The end, and the beginning.

[nevernonline]

✧.* sweet disposition; hjs

the innocence of youth, isn't it blissful? your youth was your childhood crush, joshua. a pretty boy from your hometown who became your best friend.

✧ paring: non-idol! joshua x fem! reader

✧ genre/s: high school crush! joshua, f2l.

✧ word count: 4.0k

✧ warning/s: swearing, kissing, some smutty scenes, mentions of substances (alcohol&weed mainly) mentions of illness, minors dni.

✧ note/s: sweet disposition by temper trap is one of my all time fav songs, and i was watching old sytycd episodes for my soul and when I heard it I knew I had to write a silly little fic. also def unedited so sorry. atp I'm just making a svt song series. lol. ily.

When he first met you in high school Joshua knew he liked you, something about your soft smile and ease of fitting into every social situation made him want to be your friend.

You were a transfer student from a public school into his much more prestigious private one and almost automatically fit in with everyone.

He admired you for that, but it wasn’t until the first year of knowing you passed that he realized he loved you.

You were sitting on a bench watching him and his team practice for a big lacrosse match, well not exactly watching the boys play and run around the field. But, sitting on a bench reading one of those romance novels you loved, like Wuthering Heights or some Jane Austen novel. Something about them made you invested in reading, Joshua tried, but he couldn’t shake the fact that someone in a period romance is dying of the plague or having a maid clean out their chamber pot before the rest of the royals arrive.

He was distracted by you more than ever that day. your glasses were changed into contacts, your legs longer, and your hair plaited into braids on each side of your head tied together with matching blue hair bands.

You felt your ears burning as you looked up from your novel, finding Joshua standing in the center of the field as the opposing team members scored a goal on his side and celebrated, but he was stuck. Stuck in a moment of noticing you before the coaches whistle dragged him out of his dream state.

He never confessed his feelings for you, not yet. He didn’t want to seem selfish now that you weren’t the nerdy girl he once met, but a girl transitioning into her own womanhood. Well, at least on the outside.

Time seemed to pass whenever you were with him and suddenly he realized it was the start of your senior year, just like that Joshua was back dreaming about asking you to the homecoming dance, a dance that you helped organize.

Joshua had an entire day planned to ask you on your first date, he would come over carrying a bouquet of flowers, carrying a dress in your favorite shade of blue, and him in his matching suit. He made dinner reservations and even made a book of things he loved about you, like your own Austen novel just from him.

When he rang your doorbell, a familiar face answered, but it wasn’t yours it was Soonyoung from his lacrosse team, dressed in a white suit adorned with a red sash, a sash he came to find out matched your beautiful long dress, and even the small flower placed in your hair.

A missed chance, now he looked like a fool standing in your doorway, but he lied. He just lied and told you that he needed your help asking someone else to the dance. Aside from the book he made, all the effort he put in for you was wasted on someone else.

After all was said and done, Joshua was happy you ended up going with Soonyoung. You were smiling, laughing, and dancing with someone who deserved your happiness. He was a nice guy, as nice as you were.

The book that Joshua made for you was still in his closet at his parents house, just like the rest of your memories together.

A few days later his flight landed on the route back to you. Stepping off the plane a gush of warm air and the smell of peaches hit his nose, something about it felt like you and that stupid peach flavored lip gloss you always wore.

Joshua looked around the airport feeling that maybe you would be here too, but he knew that you were off with your friend celebrating her birthday for the next two nights.

His mom pulled up on the curb in her black suv, greeting him with a comfortably tight hug and a small peck on the cheek and he was home.

He tried to ask her about you, maybe seeing if she had any information on where you went or if you were single, but she had no idea. She just told him to be patient and ask when he saw you.

After two days of going around to all of his old favorite places, some closed or turned into boutique clothing or vape shops, he still was met with the emptiness of not seeing you yet.

On that second night at home he met up with his friends and some of their significant others at a new bar that just opened a few months prior, to catch up and also to distract him from you, just for one night at least.

A few hours went by and his buzz grew stronger, he felt guilty he hadn’t thought about you most of his night, but why should he?

Soonyoung took the open space on the red leather couch next to Joshua and sat down two shots of tequila, a ritual for the two of them to keep their buzz going.

“What’s gotten into you tonight, Shua? You seem sad.”

“Uh, nothing I guess I just missed being here. I miss you guys.”

“Aw, we missed you too, but I don’t think that’s it. What’s going on?”

“I haven’t seen y/n yet, I’m nervous I guess?”

“Of course. You had the biggest crush on her, sorry for taking her to that dance.”

“No, it’s okay. I just- Well, I guess it’s dumb to be nervous. We still talk every day, but I just haven't seen her in real life in too long. It’s just weird I guess.”

“Are you still in love with her?”

“I don’t know, maybe. She’s probably just moved on from me.

“Is it eating you up inside? Wait, that's a dumb question clearly it is. You think she’s dating someone?”

“I’m not sure, I don’t think so. Unless you know something I don’t.”

“Na, last time I saw her she sat in the corner of the room on her phone the whole time texting you.”

“Really? See, she doesn’t even tell me when she goes out to parties.”

“Are you that jealous? You know y/n, she’s not like that, Joshua, stop getting weird and in your head about it.”

Soonyoung handed Joshua his phone that was placed face down on the table and then handed him a shot of liquid courage.

“Call her, ask her out. Don’t be a bitch.”

“You're right, thanks Hosh.”

Pulling up your contact information on his phone, two rings in you picked up, clearly half asleep from just getting back home.

“Shua? Hi, sorry I got home an hour ago. What are you doing?”

“Oh my god, sorry I woke you. I was just calling to see if you wanted to hangout tomorrow? I was thinking maybe Leslie’s for lunch and then the arcade or something?”

“Yeah, should I pick you up or meet you?”

“You can meet me, if that's okay? I’m going to a church thing with my mom, I’ll have her drop me off.”

“Sure, I’m going to go back to bed now okay? I promise I’ll be less tired tomorrow, Love you.”

“Okay y/n, I’ll see you then, okay? Sleep good, love you.”

“Oh, and Shua.”

“Yes?”

“Don’t let Soony give you too many shots okay? Save some alcohol room in your belly for me.”

“I promise, night angel.”

“Night, loverboy.”

Joshua’s nerves were beginning to get the best of him as he walked into the dim light of the italian restaurant and informed the host that he was here meeting his friend, as he was being ushered to the back he saw you seated at a small corner table, lit with a candle, wearing a slick black top and a pair of matching pants, a simple denim jacket was placed over your shoulders shielding you slightly from the air conditioning.

“Hi.”

You got up from your spot against the wall and greeted Joshua with a big hug when your giggles filled his ears realizing you were both dressed in nearly the same outfit.

“I see you got the memo, Joshua.”

“I see you still copy me after all this time.”

Gesturing for you both to sit back down, he noticed how casual you were after all this time spent apart, possibly just as a front knowing soon he’ll be back to teasing you once he snaps out of his awkwardness.

“So, how's your dad? Is everything okay?”

“He’s alright, he’s been in remission for a few months now.”

“I’m happy to hear that, really. I always loved your dad.”

The waitress came over at a perfect moment, a chance for Joshua to collect his thoughts and place an order for a bottle of wine to calm his quick heartbeat.

“So you have a boyfriend?”

“No, I’m too busy with med school and taking care of my dad to date, you know that. What’s with the weird questions? You want to know the next time I’m supposed to be on my period too? You sound like my mom.”

“Sorry, I just-”

And just like that, the waitress made her second entrance, bringing along the bottle of red liquid and your two meals, delaying Joshua’s chance once again to ask you his set of weird questions.

He let the moment pass while the two of you ate in silence and each had a glass to ease the awkward tension now lingering over your table.

“So-”

You both spoke up at the same time, you decided to let him finish his thought first.

“Okay, wait I just thought of another question. Why did you take Soonyoung to the dance and not go with me?”

“Because I had a crush on him, duh.”

“No way you had a crush on him? He used to pick his boogers and wipe them on his jeans.”

“I’m kidding. He was just a good friend, I was too shy to ask the guy I wanted so I asked him instead.”

“Who was the guy? Jun from your biology class? He was cute.”

“No, he was cute. But, this dude's name was like Joshua Honk or something, not sure if you knew him.”

“You had a crush on me?”

“Obviously, but you’re kind of a fucking idiot.”

“Okay, well how do you feel about me now?”

“This is the first time I’ve seen you in years and you're asking me what I think about you?”

“Yep, I need to know why I was your secret sexy crush.”

“Disgusting.”

“I’m waiting.”

You looked Joshua up and down, his hair was longer than normal, his eyes still big and wide, catching every glimmer of light inside of them like a cluster of stars, his lips were turned into a toothy smile. He was perfect.

“I think you’re okay.”

“Just okay? Damn. Whatever.”

“Want to take some dessert to go? I think we have some unfinished business.”

Waving over the waitress and paying your bill as she picked up your box of tiramisu, you and Joshua ran down the streets where you grew up to the very arcade you’d spend hours in after school.

“Okay, the winner gets what? I think we’re betting with more than tickets these days.”

“Well, y/n. I’m glad you asked. How about if I win, I get to take you home with me and if you win you get to take me home.”

“Seems like we’d both be getting what you want out of it.”

“Are you saying you don’t want to be with your super sexy secret lover, Shua Honk?”

“Win, and you’ll find out.”

“You’re on, but I’ll warn you I’m very good in bed.”

“Horny and sarcastic and horny very interesting combination for you, Honk.”

“Shut up and play.”

After hours of playing multiple games around the arcade you and Joshua were tied and his anxiety had been eased, all that stood between him and winning was a game of ski ball, a game which you were notoriously bad at.

“Need help with your game, y/n?”

A nod from you made Joshua push his chest against your back and wrap his arm around your waist, the other one held your hand helping you aim the ball on the black trackpad, a pull of your hips backwards into his sent a strong vibration down to your panties, that were now as wet as the saliva burning in your mouth.

“50 points? Not bad for a rookie.”

“You threw me off.”

“You really think you would’ve won even if I didn’t help you?”

“Well maybe if you weren’t so distracting, yes.”

“I was just trying to help.”

“What? By thrusting into my ass?”

“I didn’t thrust? You pushed your ass into me?”

“No, I did not, you clearly made contact first.”

“Okay, well then that was a practice round, prove you can win with no help. I'll buy all your drinks tonight and if you lose, open your wallet, rich girl.”

“Fine, try to control the friend in your pants, loser.”

Joshua wanted to respond with some sarcastic remark not promising anything from the way he was watching you bed over to roll the ball from behind, but he decided to shut up and let you win, he wouldn’t have you paying for him anyway.

“You let me win, but I will be taking the drinks.”

“How did you know?”

“You threw the ball backwards twice to skip your turn, you’re good at many things but subtly is not one of them.”

“Okay, but still let me buy the drinks.”

“You were always going to pay anyway, I’m not wasting my cold hard cash on you, california boy”

“Ha-ha, very funny.”

Walking into the familiar dive bar you spent many late nights in after studying, you were hit with the sweet smell of beer and the crunching of peanut shells under your feet. You caught a glimpse of Joshua looking around at the various world flags on the wall.

“What? Not fancy enough for you?”

“No, I love it. I didn’t even know this was here?”

“Yeah, my dad told me about it. He comes with me sometimes to watch soccer, it’s cozy.”

“Sit down, I’ll go and order what would you like?”

“Just grab me a beer, maybe with a lime wedge?”

“And a shot?”

“Ugh, fine Joshua but I do not want to be responsible for carrying your drunk ass home.”

“No promises.”

Joshua strolled up to the wooden bar, greeted by the big man with facial hair behind it and placed the two matching orders, a shot of tequila and a beer with lime.

“You’re here with y/n?”

“Oh, y/n? Yeah, you know her?”

“I know her dad, good man. You her boyfriend?”

“No, just her friend. Nice to meet you..”

“Alan.”

“Alan, hey. I’m Josh.”

Alan shook Joshua’s outstretched hands and denied his card from being swiped for the alcohol.

“It’s on the house, if you’re friends with the y/l/n’s you’re friends with me. Enjoy and treat our girl well, if you’re the Joshua she tells me about, then I hope she gets her happy ending.”

“Wait what does that mean?”

“Oh, nothing you can’t figure out for yourself.”

Walking back over to your small bar table, Joshua decided to take the spot directly next to you in the booth and not across the table, maybe to hear you better and maybe so he can figure out what Alan was putting down.

“You met Alan?”

“Yeah, he told me to take care of you.”

“He’s protective, he normally scares the weird drunkards away from my table."

“I’m playing your bodyguard tonight, cheers.”

Throwing back your shot, you tried to calm the burning taste of alcohol from showing on your face, Joshua held up a slice of line to your lips and let you bite down on it before placing it between his.

“Ew, why didn’t you just use your own lime.”

“Oh, I don’t know. Sorry.”

“Want to kiss me that bad huh?”

“What are you talking about?”

You slapped his arm, taking a swig of your fresh beer.

“It was a joke, be quiet.”

“I do want to kiss you.”

“Oh, right. Okay, save the jokes. You don’t have to tease me for my crush anymore. I get it.”

“Do you still like me?”

“ I probably always will. At least some part of me. Why do you ask?”

“ I don't know, I asked you before what you like about me so do you want to know what I like about you?”

“My body?”

“No, but that doesn’t hurt. I like how kind you are. I like that everyone who meets you falls in love with you instantly because you’re so charming. I love that when you laugh or cry too hard you start wheezing a little bit because you’re embarrassed that someone could see you like that. I love that you, even after all this time, have the nicest heart of anyone I’ve ever met.”

A tear fell down from your eye, and Joshua’s long finger came up to cup your cheek, wiping it away with his thumb.

“Why are you crying?”

“I’m sorry. I just missed you.”

“You know I have something for you, it’s old but I've never had the chance to give it to you.”

Joshua pulled the brown leather bound notebook from his bag that had a laminated front titled ‘ The Girl from Nowhere.’

“What is this? Did you write a book?”

“Remember the night of the dance when I showed up at your house?”

“Yeah, when you needed me and Hosh to help you ask Suki?”

“Right. Well, I was actually there to ask you, but I saw Soonyoung and I couldn’t. He’s too good of a friend and you were happy. So, I lied. I actually had a dress for you to match me and this book. I wrote it for you because you were so obsessed with all those books, so it’s your own Austen novel.”

“You wrote me my own romance book?”

“Yeah, it’s outdated now, but it ended with me kissing you after the dance.”

You couldn’t believe your eyes, it was the most thoughtful thing he’d ever given you or anyone for that matter.

“Joshua, this is so nice. Seriously, when did you even have time to do this?”

“My mom gave me the idea. You and her always watched Pride and Prejudice together, she has the same taste. So technically it’s co-written by her, but she gave me all the credit.”

“Wow. I don’t really know what to say.”

“You don’t have to say anything.”

“Okay, then I’ll be right back. Give me like two minutes, don’t move.”

You peeled yourself off of Joshua and strutted up to Alan to ask a favor before running back to your table.

Suddenly the only lighting in the room was coming from the sporting matches on the flat screens and a few neon branded signs as a song Joshua hadn’t heard in years played over the speakers, Sweet Disposition by Temper Trap.

“Joshua Hong, will you do me the pleasure of dancing with me?”

“You’re so corny.”

“Get up, you’re embarrassing me. Let it happen.”

As the song rang through the speakers, he wrapped his hands around your lower back and pulled you in tightly, swaying you to the perfect song to describe falling in love in his youth, with the only person he ever pictured by his side. His own version of a romance novel.

You pulled away slightly as the beat got faster and grabbed his hands, running around to the other patrons in the familiar bar, crushing sounds of peanut shells under your feet.

Suddenly the whole bar was dancing along with you to the sound of nostalgia, even Alan was behind the bar top swaying along and singing into a broom.

It was this charm, the charm only you had to get the entire group of people dancing along with you.

After the song ended Alan handed out a round of shots and you took back your respective seats.

“Thank you, y/n.”

“Why are you thanking me?”

“You made a weird childhood dream of mine come to life, it’s stupid, but it’s the truth.”

“It’s not stupid. And you did the same for me so it was only fair, want to go?”

“I’m not done with you yet.”

“I know, but there’s somewhere else we have to go.”

“Are you okay to walk?”

“Honk, I am not the lightweight here. I should be asking you that.”

“I am not a lightweight.”

“Okay, stand up.”

“Give me one second.”

“Exactly. Come on.”

Waving goodbye to Alan and the rest of the team at the bar, you pulled a very drunk Joshua down the old streets of your hometown, until you reached the best park bench in town.

It was older than both of you and maybe even your parents, carved with names and years of all the couples who sat right here. It was your favorite spot, even as a kid.

You and Joshua have a countless number of photos together on the very wood you sat upon now, staring at the calm sight of the nearby lake.

“Remember when we ditched that weird one year reunion party to come sit here?”

“Yeah, you had a joint that some weird guy dressed as a hotdog gave you.”

“Yes, it was someone that knew Soony, not sure why but his nickname is Dino? We just sat here all night and smoked it. So, I may have gotten his contact from someone and picked up a couple.”

“Y/N you did not.”

“Yes, it’s in my purse. I’m not letting you smoke it though, you’re too drunk. So it’s just a prop, but-“

Out of your small leather bag, you pulled a perfectly rolled joint and held it up to Joshua's face.

“I thought it’d be funny to bring one, that was the first time I ever took a hit so it’s special.”

“You know most people have their first kiss on this bench, not their first joint.”

“I had my first kiss in sixth grade at a roller rink, this is more important.”

“A roller rink? What the hell.”

“Yeah, a story for another time.”

Joshua grabbed the brown wrapped object from your hand and pulled a match box from Leslie’s out of his pocket.

“For old times sake?”

“Fine, but you really need to stop talking like you're in your eighties.”

With the strike of the match and the smell of sulfur hit your nose and the flame between you ignited. A corny thought, but it was the truth.

Taking in a large inhale and holding it in your lungs before passing it off to Joshua, you sat and stared at the blue water.

“By the way, I like everything about you just so you know. I was being stupid before. I think you’re maybe the only person in the world I’ve ever trusted.”

As the flower kept passing between you, Joshua scooted closer, resting his hand on your clothed thigh awfully close to the crease of your pelvis.

“Me too. Not about myself, about you. Tonight proved to me that moving back was the right choice.”

“Wait, you're back for good? Why the fuck didn’t you tell me earlier?”

“Would that have changed tonight?”

“Yeah, I would’ve probably been in your bed by now. I was too scared to confess how I felt. But, fuck I’m in love with you. I always have been.”

Choking on the cloud of smoke in his lungs, Joshua stuck the small roach of the joint in his pocket and kissed you.

“Does that mean I can take you home?”

“I don’t fuck on the first date.”

“Classy girl, I like that.”

“You’re so annoying.”

“I love you too.”

“So when’s the second date? Tomorrow?”

“Yeah, come sleep over on the couch and we can go for breakfast.”

“The couch? Like a dog?”

“ My dog sleeps in my bed.”

“Kick her out for one night, I reserved the spot first.”

“Okay, let’s go. No funny business, Honk.”

“Can we brainstorm a cuter nickname, I don’t know like Hunk?”

“No, Honk stays. Let’s go to bed.”

Holding hands and kissing at stop lights on your way, he was back and you were never letting him go again.

[jenscx]

no but minji is lowkey talking this TOO far😭 like girl, i completely understand you being hurt that gf didn’t talk to you for the longest time after her company came out that she was dating some other idol, i get that. AND THEN hearing about a bet on ur relationship, minji deserves to play hard to get as long as she wants BUT DAMN… the relationship between y/n and winter was confirmed fake by y/n the SAME day she texted gf minji back and she’s been on her knees begging for forgiveness ever since😧

atp, does minji miss her or not? cause going around w another idol PUBLICLY (did y/n and winter even have couples photos bro😭) and then saying the relationship was nothing and that y/n is nothing TO YOU, is insane😧😞 bestie best be giving up and staying that way forever😋 cause me personally couldn’t get back w someone even after i explained myself and have been redeeming myself, then they come back w a fake relationship JUST to rub it in my face and hurt me. I JUST HAD A REVELATION.

sorry this is a lot, i’m so incredibly invested and it’s making me sick thinking about it😞

minji is defo a morally grey character here, either u like her or not. both minyn in attention, while the smau is still rather lighthearted, are red flags lol. one of them has no self-confidence and always goes back to her ex and the other one is just a sadist. in the end will yn have character development? probably not because all of this takes place within a week. the duration of their relationship is incredibly short considering their feelings for one another. while you may think yn is stupid for going back, i feel like a lot of people experience the same thing. people joke about going back to their ex and still missing them and they will go back to their ex if they had a chance to.

minji prob doesn’t miss yn, just the idea of her. their relationship can be perceived as genuine or fake. in attention, there’s a always a domino effect. yn is put into a fake relationship -> she doesn’t text minji about it -> minji doesn’t ask her about it -> minji doesn’t give her a chance to explain etc. both of them don’t do many things in the relationship. yn is hurt, definitely but will she go back to minji if she came begging on her knees? absolutely.

while i agree with you that i would never go back to someone that treated me that way, i can’t say that for certain. the premises during their breakup was that yn and minjeong were dating, which led to yn getting hate comments and death threats like any idol couple does. if i were yn and i saw these comments, wouldn’t i have a desperate need to be loved? and who else to love me other than my ex-girlfriend? if she did it before she could do it again, right? maybe you can relate to yn, maybe you think she’s stupid. maybe you hate minji, maybe you sympathise with her. attention’s storyline will not change based on the comments i receive from you guys. it’s like seeing your friend in a toxic relationship. you can’t control the outcome.

[sris-skies]

cinema- minjae xikers

minjae sighed, was it of relief or of loneliness? yes he had managed to get away from the rest of his bandmates and persuaded his management to be able to go to the movie cinema nearby without any security around him. it made him feel almost… normal. but he felt kinda lonely, there wasn’t anyone around him that he could talk to. 

he stood in line to enter the cinema, half messing around on his phone, half zoning out- since when did cinemas take fifteen minutes to get set up with a movie? and the staff had predicted another half hour of waiting before anything would be ready, causing him to groan quietly. of course he knew that the staff weren’t at fault here, they were barely paid minimum wage, but he did still feel a bit frustrated. 

the girl next to him in the line sighed softly, she was cute and seemed to be his age too, huh. no, he’s an idol, he can’t think that… but what if it's just left at thoughts? management can't read his mind, he can’t be scolded for just thinking that she’s pretty. 

the girl behind him tapped him gently on his shoulder, getting his attention. “hey uhm, weird question but uh” she started saying, causing minjae to inwardly roll his eyes, sure he loved his fans but he did want to be left alone for a bit on his birthda- “are you also seeing the ghostbusters movie today?” she finished her question, cutting his thoughts off abruptly. “uhm yeah, I, I am” he said awkwardly. “oh cool! what’s your seat??” she asked him excitedly, eyes lighting up. “uh, oh, seat J10, why?” he replied, a bit cautious, not wanting to give away any information that could give away what his identity was. “no way!! I’m sitting in seat J11! that’s so cool.” she responded excitedly. “by the way, sorry if i’m a bit talkative at the moment! my friends didn’t want to come see it with me and i honestly have a bit of a weak stomach when it comes to these kinds of things..” she responded awkwardly. 

“that’s ok, i kinda have the same problem but I wanted to be alone so that’ll be fine i think.” he responded slightly awkwardly, not fully knowing how to respond to such a pretty girl that was talking to him, without knowing that he was an idol. 

the two continued talking to each other in the line, getting more comfortable with each other, never once mentioning their names. minjae could feel himself relax, her presence feeling comforting and pleasant, a nice change from his bandmates and managers. the way that her laugh was making him feel butterflies in his stomach, it was so cute and he couldn’t help himself from smiling as she spoke. 

the time seemed to fly by, the cinema finally opening up. “ah, I need to go now, sorry..” the pretty girl says sheepishly. “I kinda lied earlier, I’m not seeing ghostbusters, I just thought that you were cute and wanted to talk to you, here’s my number uhm, i’d love to actually see a movie with you sometime?” she said shyly, handing him a piece of paper with her name and number scribbled onto it, waving goodbye to him awkwardly.

minjae stared at the piece of paper in slight shock, a smile slowly creeping up his face. ‘best birthday gift yet.’ he thought to himself.

i was fighting against the clock in order to have this posted in time and i lost :( being a uni student and a writer is a full time job atp 😭

[charmedreincarnation]

https://www.tumblr.com/charmedreincarnation/715801428071972864/hey-maya-what-are-your-thoughts-on-the?source=share

Not this anon but wait that means I can manifest a certain afterlife? Like there isn't one destined afterlife but it can be whatever we want it to be?

I wish there was a voice audio setting because I would tell you guys so many stories! but anyways I’ll tell you guys about a specific occurrence that happened when I was around 13/16 that changed my perspective on everything.

Basically I used to go to church often . My family is pretty religious, and at the time, I wasn’t even really religious, but I still followed Christianity. I had gotten into manifesting but I still believed in god pretty avidly (and still do just not in a religious way) so I didn’t mind going.

Anyways there was this super religious girl who I would talk to everytime I went. guys I mean she was giving cult. Cross tattoos, Bible reading club everyday, and she could read the Bible word for word backwards probably! I don’t really like super avidly religious people who make their entire life abt god and every conversation abt it, but idk for her I could tolerate it. She was super sweet and her passion was admirable.

I remember she stopped coming to church and I knew something was wrong because this girl would rather die than miss service. Turns out she was in an accident and was probably going to die, so we held a huge fundraiser for her family. At the time I didn’t know what happened to her because no one talked about it after the fundraiser and I didn’t have her phone number so I just assumed she died.

Then when I was 16, so atp pretty into manifesting and not into church anymore I saw her at a tarot shop.. that she owned. Now it’s a general consensus astrology, tarots and stuff is against Christianity. (not that I cared regardless I still was into that shit) but The Sarah (fake name) I knew Would never step foot into what she called a “devil worshipping temple”

But it was definitely her and she looked so different. She used to have long brown hair, wore traditional clothing, would never show skin etc. this girl had a pixie cut with black hair, so many tattoos of sigils and zodiac stuff on her body, so many piercings, and was wearing booty shorts!! I almost didn’t recognize her but she said hi to me and I was in shock. This bitch owns a crystal shop.. Holy Sarah owns a crystal shop!! atp I believed the rapture was about to start bc what the hell

Anyways I asked her how she was and what happened, because I assumed she was dead. And she said she was. She had been officially dead for 5 straight seconds, but was “brought” back with those machines. I told her she looks good but why the change in lifestyle. she said when she died, she was in a black space of nothing but still had thoughts. She didn’t see Jesus or the purgatory or whatever, all she had was herself. She was crying to herself in this void like space as she knew it was the end, and the atheists were right. We become nothing when we die. Then she just wished to come back, and she said she would do anything to come back, and then she did. She awoke again and when she did she got into spirituality and it changed her life.

16 year old me at this point was pretty deep into my spiritual research and she basically confirmed what I had believed since I was 8. We choose what happenes when we die and we can do the same for our life on earth. I pretty much talked to her for hours, until I had to go because my mom doesn’t want me in those “weird” shops either. Anyways I assume the “space” she was in was the void state, but I didn’t know what that was until the end of 2021 ofc so I couldn’t make the connection at the time.

But I mean it makes sense. we have free will, so if we can decide every aspect of our life while alive, why would that change at death. death isn’t the end, just a beginning of whatever new chapter you want or believe it to be. Just my belief ofc :) you’re inclined to believe whatever !

[vicontheinternet]

Fandoms you couldn’t pay me to join even though I either really do like the show, did once or have been interested but for whatever reasons have been turned off by its fandom in no order

9-1-1 (did watch but fell off vapid fandom)

Buddie (no)

Bridgertom (was interested vapid racist fandom I find shonda Rimes to be very...)

Greys anatomy (did watch fell off vapid fandom with hints of racism)

Japril (I hate this ship with a passion mostly because their stans are annoying and turned me off)

Atla cartoon (comfort show vapid vapid fandom)

Anti legend of korra ( I have a love hate relationship with this show)

Driven (I do like them on a surface level but some of their fans can be intense) you will never get me to interact with driven content one I’ve seen multiple post attacking musa for being with riven or or calling musa ugly (she’s a cartoon character) or calling Darcy’s “spell” a dubbing issue while that might be true atp I’m over driven

Klaroline (jesus fucking christ sorry for using your in vain but this ship stans I once saw a fanfic that made caroline a original heretic and she was in the box instead of ester I'll give the points for originality but if they were to do a heretic bonnie was right there you know the wich that already had powers

Anti jegulus ( im not entering a fandom where the couple is written ooc to be together atp they are whole different characters) not trying to yuck someone yum

Sterek (these are some of the most annoying fanbase they don't even like these characters fr because rewrite them to make them so ooc that they are new characters. Why would stiles be in derek pack)

Stiles (I'm not going to lie I used to like stiles but his stans ruined him for me they were insuffible he could do no wrong in their eyes. All because he's a white snarky/sarcastic boy. Dont let write a crossover then they'll make him the most powerful being in the universe. Crossover with tvd/to he's loss mikealson crossover with supernatural hes either a Winchester that has demon blood also or an angel. They think that stile would be a better werewolf then Scott when everything in the show has told us that if he was the that had been the that had been bit his eyes would been blue by the end of season 1. And don't get me started on the friend subject)

The mcu (I used to love the mcu and watch every release but it became quantity over quality and its downfall for me was very sad)

Wanda maximoff and wandavision (I could make a whole video on the whole rollercoaster of thoughts I had on wanda and wandavision because like the mcu I liked both then I didn't. The decent of wandavision was more gradual with wandavision it was episodic to me it was a let down and didn't make sense while I thought Elizabeth Olsen acting was good the writing was not it find out that the writers were swayed not to look at the source material for the show because kevin fegie didn't want them to be influenced although that's the whole point because you're making a supposed comic book adaptation then there's the alleged part reshoot that happened because ppl guessed the ending and let's not forget the whitewashing of Wanda and peitro maximoff who are canonically romani and the mcu deliberately changed it to a made up country somewhere remotely European and made wanda a knock off Jean grey (red hair, pale skin, mind powers) for over ten years so bad that it started to influence the comics

Tony stark (hes a war profiteer, his fans infantilize him. They recognize his PTSD and mental problems only. His side of civil war was dead wrong and ppl to this day will not accept that even if you explain it to then like they are 2. Come onguys the un is useless even iron man knew he was wrong he broke the accords three times in the movie and kidnapped a child to fight adult that he had no business fighting. Also his fans are insane)

Specifically black arianitors that excuse everything thing that grow women does (now I don't dislike her or hate her but man her fanbase is annoying as hell especially the black ones it's like the one non black person who does problematic shit but has a lot black ppl in their corner rooting for them so when they do something out of pocket they don't even have to say anything they're black friends do it for them)

Taylor swift (need I could say more mind you I like some of her songs)

Obx/jaira - yall are psychotic!!!!!!! Yall have been tweaking over fictional characters for a few days