#i might have to text my friend i need advice

[asktheritochampion]

FOR THE PERSON BEHIND THIS ACCOUNT:

how'd you get started doing this account? also do you have any advice for someone who's thinking of doing a similar account? /genq

As someone who has run many an ask blog in different fandoms over the years, people asking me for advice in starting their own is something that happens pretty frequently.

Making an ask blog for your favourite character is a great way to explore that character in more depth without needing the narrative of writing a fanfiction, not to mention a super fun way to interact with the fandom community!

Ther's no right or wrong way to run an ask blog; but I'm happy to share some of the things I've learned over the years from trial and error for those just dipping their talon into this creative format for the first time.

There's two different ways you can start your ask blog; by creating a side-blog off of your main blog, or by creating a whole new blog. Either works fine, but I personally favour having a full blog - you can make a gmail in two minutes then bash out a full blog just like that. The drawback is that sometimes I forget to log back onto my main blog; but a side blog cannot send asks to other blogs and you have to remember to set everything you post to the correct blog, which can get confusing at times.

While decorating your new blog; make a rules page and write out a list of things you're not okay with people asking. Maybe you're uncomfortable with rude or violent asks - with topics of sexual harassment or racism or homophobia. Maybe you don't want to roleplay, or you only want to interact with people that follow your specific ship. You can put whatever you want on your rules page - but pin that post so that newcomers can read it and know what is and isn't okay to send in.

When you first start your blog, it can be a little tricky to get the ball rolling. I recomend following other ask blogs and active blogs in the fandom and interacting with their posts to connect with other people. Even then however, you might need to either get a friend to send you a couple of asks or send a few anonymous asks to yourself to get started.

Don't be discouraged if it takes a few days or weeks for people to starts sending in asks. It takes a long time to foster people's interest and engagement no matter how popular or interesting the character is.

A big question people often have is; should I post art with my asks?

From my experience, you could be the greatest writer in the world - but posts you make which have a visual aspect will always grab more attention on a social media platform designed for scrolling than just normal text posts. People have short attention spans. Keep text responses short, and add something sparkly to grab peoples attention.

Not everyone is an artist or has time to draw, but that doesn't mean you can't still make your posts visually interesting. You could use gifs or screenshots of your character, you could handwrite your replies to make them look like letters or diary entries (although if you ever do illustrated text, make sure to include it as a caption below for screenreaders to still be able to access), or even just make your reply fonts colourful or large or play around with different fonts to make them stand out from other posts.

If you do want to draw replies I encourage it because it's a great way to improve your drawing skills fast. If you're worried about your skill level, you can always make it part of the theme and say it's the character drawing their own responses.

I'd recomend if you're planning on sketching replies to draw out several different pictures of your character with different expressions and poses and to re-use them. However if you want to be a crazy person like me and try to draw unique responses most of the time; I'd highly recomend choosing a very simplified style of drawing.

Response pieces should take you less than fifteen minutes or you'll burn yourself out pretty fast. I sketch Revali in a simplified way and just do a flood-fill wash of tone so that my drawings are as fast and simple as possible to do - no colour or shading. If I was spending an hour on every response piece, I'd run out of spoons for this by the end of the week.

If you want to run a popular or highly interacted with blog, the most important thing is posting frequently. If you post a few times a day - or even just a few times a week, people will seek out your blog because it will keep appearing at the top of the tags. The key is churning out a lot of asks all the time.

Get into a habit of doin' your posts fast and rough, and don't worry too much about perfecting things. Nobody will notice if your art or writing is a little unfinished or sketchy. On social media, especially in this style of creating, people only look at your posts for a few seconds - so especially when you're first starting out and trying to get noticed, it's okay to choose quantity over quality.

Something I know a lot of people worry about when they first start out is lore and storytelling in their ask responses.

My best advice is to not take anything too seriously. On this blog, sometimes Revali is around before the Calamity, sometimes he's around in Totk times. Sometimes I draw him wearing modern clothes and using an ipad and other times he has no idea what a microwave is. Sometimes I answer an ask one way, then forget about it and answer something else with conflicting information a few months later.

Nobody really pays enough attention to everything you post to notice continuousy errors. These blogs are just a bit of fun and a way for you to play around with your character like a barbie doll. You can do whatever you want with them, and change it day by day. You don't have to stick to one timeline or ensure that every single thing you post is lore accurate.

Saying that; let's talk about something I like to call 'arcs'.

Every once in a while when things are feeling a little dry or someone sends in something interesting, I'll throw in an 'arc' for Revali. Maybe he gets turned into a chick or a Hylian or joins the Yiga Clan - and for a few days all of my ask posts will revolve around this.

While it's a lot of fun to play with arcs, I'd recomend keeping them short and sweet - lasting no more than a week at longest before returning back to a comfortable norm. Newcomers are always drifting into fandom, as are more casual fans, and if newbies or people who aren't as deep into this character's life as you stumble upon your posts while you're doing a crazy arc, they're likely not really going to understand what's going on. Returning to a more 'canon typical' version of your character between arcs is important for coaxing in newer fans and keeping people from getting too lost.

Another thing people often wonder about is roleplay.

I don't really make my ask blogs with roleplay in mind, but the format itself is kind of built for it if the concept interests you. Playing as your favourite character and enacting little scenes with other blogs can be super fun - great escapism and an interesting way to tell a narrative.

There are however some unspoken rules to roleplay; things you pick up over time that aren't always obvious.

First off - not every ask blog wants to roleplay. Some people just aren't comfortable with it - and that's okay. Check out someone's rules page or just pop them a DM to ask, and respect their decision if they don't want to.

When you do roleplay with somebody; it's common courtasy to keep your roleplay to under ten posts. While this isn't as big of a deal as it used to be (truely Hylia bless Tumblr's newly enforced read-more feature when a post reaches a certain length), it's still polite not to clog up people's dashes with tons of long replies. If the roleplay starts to get too long, try to wrap it up and start a new one.

Another important unspoken rule is something I like to call the 'ask blog universe'.

Every ask blog is their own little universe bubble, where you come up with your own ideas and headcanons for your character and others. Sometimes you'll roleplay with another ask blog - and those ideas will clash.

You cannnot force your headcanons onto another blogs universe, so try to keep your headcanons out of roleplay and leave them just for asks and posts. If I'm roleplaying as Revali with another blog, I'm not going to mention within that roleplay that he's transgender or that he's infatuated with Link - because that might not be the canon for that other blog's universe, and it would be rude to make them have to bend their established canon to accomodate me.

You should always have fun acting out your favourite ships and headcanons - but just try to be considerate when roleplaying with other blogs that not everyone will share your opinions, and maybe just avoid topics of debate within the play.

Another thing people often ask; Can I start an ask blog for a character if someone else is already running an ask blog for them.

The answer is yes, of course you can. That person does not own the character - if you want to start a Revali blog like me, go for it! You can bring something new to the table that I cannot - we will inevitably play very different versions of this character and explore things the other has not even thought of. The more fun writing and art for our favourite character in the world - the better.

Don't let anyone tell you otherwise. Which brings me onto my most important piece of advice.

No matter how you run your blog, inevitably at some point, some sad person with nothing better to do is going to come into your ask box and send something unplesent. Maybe it will be something gross and sexual - maybe it will be a rant about how they disagree with a headcanon you've made and why it's all wrong - maybe they'll just send you vauge death threats because they don't like the character (Revali gets a LOT of those...). This is unfortunatly an inescapable part of being online and creating.

The BEST thing you can do - and I cannot express enough how important this is - block them and delete the asks. Turn off anonymous asks if it starts to really bother you - even if it's just for a little bit.

Do not post them. Do not respond to them. Do not post ABOUT them.

These people are purely here for your attention, they want a reaction from you; and the second you give them that even if it's the most levelheaded response in the world, they will keep harassing you nonstop.

Whereas if you never acknowledge them; they will vanish so fast it will make your head spin.

Now, it's HARD not to post the scary, mean, or ranty asks that people send you for the validation of your kind followers telling you how wrong their harassment is. I get that. What I would recomend is befriending other ask blogs and sharing the woes with them instead. We even have a Legend of Zelda ask blogs discord group that anyone making an ask blog can join - go in there and screenshot post the garbage people send so we can all rant about it and validate you together.

Just never post it publically - it only feeds the wee beasts.

Ask blogs can be really fun to run!

They can also be hard work sometimes - whether it's because you're stuck on difficult asks, overwhelmed or underwhelmed with the amount of people interacting with you, getting mean anons, or burning out from trying to draw every response.

If you ever need a listening ear or a little advice or support, ol' Rahlin is always happy to share what I know. Don't be nervous to shoot over any questions or worries you have and we can talk them out.

I'm no expert in this genre by any means, but I have had a lot of experience with a lot of different issues over the years, and I'm always here to help anyone who is new to the scene and wants to join in the fun!

[literally-a-ferret]

yall ever do stupid shit and then have to suffer the consequences

i feel guiltyyyyyyyyy ughhhhhh and i cant even do anything bc its MY FAULT and i apologized but shes doing what i did to her and leaving me on delivered 💔

UGH why am i stupid :( can i learn how to be a human correctly⁉️⁉️

“its your first time on this earth give yourself grace” NO⁉️ 👺 shes literally perfect and im mean and evil :( UGH STUPID STUPID BRAIN AND STUPID STUPID CONSEQUENCES OF MY ACTIONS

ughhhh i ghosted my girlfriend bc my brain sucks and i finally got over my stupid stupid brain and sent her like four apologies and shes leaving me on delivered idek if its intentional but ugh i cant even be mad at her cuz its MY FAULT

guys the crash outs gonna go soooooo hard (im gonna die i miss her but im mean and evil and have communication issues and got overwhelmed by her perfect existence and my lack of ability to be a human being and ghosted her :(((( i feel so mean someone kill me plz 🫶🫶🫶🫶🫶🫶🫶🫶)

UGH AND I KNOW SHE TOLD OUR FRIENDS BC SHE TELLS THEM EVERYTHING (not mad at her abt that shes just a yapper which i love) AND THAT MAKES ME FEEL MORE GUILTY BC I DID THIS TO HER AT THE BEGINNING OF OUR RELATIONSHIP BC I GOT SCARED AND THEY GOT MAD AT ME

which actually does make me kind of upset bc it makes me feel like theyd take her side in anything and its like

ugh i know my brain is stupid but like i need my friends to understand my side of it and not get mad like ik i fucked up but im trying to work on it and all they do is (whether intentionally or not) take her side and make me feel bad

like yes she was beating herself up about it but SO WAS I i just internalize everything and dont tell ppl

like im vv surprised im writing this but i actually couldnt take the guilt anymore

UGH i just feel so bad which makes my brain feel even worse and ugh everything is spiraling

spotify play phoebe bridgers and taylor swift and olivia rodrigo and boygenius

UGH gonna just die tbh

[darkadelic]

one thing i have to say is this, as someone with adhd and dyslexia, i cannot stress how challenging it is to read replies that have double space (heck i've seen triple space) or have certain color text. also fancy text, when using a text reader it is unable to read it. and sometimes when reading a mun's rules they don't specify they can adjustive to mun's who may have a disability. this is not directed towards anyone just a thought i had throughout the years of being on here. when you are making it rp friendly make sure you also include mun's with disabilities. or ask the disabled mun if the text their using is ok (ex: colored text, fancy text, or adjust the size of the text). thanks for hearing me out on this i don't want this to sound rude or hurtful in anyway.

[archaeren]

How I learned to write smarter, not harder

(aka, how to write when you're hella ADHD lol)

A reader commented on my current long fic asking how I write so well. I replied with an essay of my honestly pretty non-standard writing advice (that they probably didn't actually want lol) Now I'm gonna share it with you guys and hopefully there's a few of you out there who will benefit from my past mistakes and find some useful advice in here. XD Since I started doing this stuff, which are all pretty easy changes to absorb into your process if you want to try them, I now almost never get writer's block.

The text of the original reply is indented, and I've added some additional commentary to expand upon and clarify some of the concepts.

As for writing well, I usually attribute it to the fact that I spent roughly four years in my late teens/early 20s writing text roleplay with a friend for hours every single day. Aside from the constant practice that provided, having a live audience immediately reacting to everything I wrote made me think a lot about how to make as many sentences as possible have maximum impact so that I could get that kind of fun reaction. (Which is another reason why comments like yours are so valuable to fanfic writers! <3) The other factors that have improved my writing are thus: 1. Writing nonlinearly. I used to write a whole story in order, from the first sentence onward. If there was a part I was excited to write, I slogged through everything to get there, thinking that it would be my reward once I finished everything that led up to that. It never worked. XD It was miserable. By the time I got to the part I wanted to write, I had beaten the scene to death in my head imagining all the ways I could write it, and it a) no longer interested me and b) could not live up to my expectations because I couldn't remember all my ideas I'd had for writing it. The scene came out mediocre and so did everything leading up to it. Since then, I learned through working on VN writing (I co-own a game studio and we have some visual novels that I write for) that I don't have to write linearly. If I'm inspired to write a scene, I just write it immediately. It usually comes out pretty good even in a first draft! But then I also have it for if I get more ideas for that scene later, and I can just edit them in. The scenes come out MUCH stronger because of this. And you know what else I discovered? Those scenes I slogged through before weren't scenes I had no inspiration for, I just didn't have any inspiration for them in that moment! I can't tell you how many times there was a scene I had no interest in writing, and then a week later I'd get struck by the perfect inspiration for it! Those are scenes I would have done a very mediocre job on, and now they can be some of the most powerful scenes because I gave them time to marinate. Inspiration isn't always linear, so writing doesn't have to be either!

Some people are the type that joyfully write linearly. I have a friend like this--she picks up the characters and just continues playing out the next scene. Her story progresses through the entire day-by-day lives of the characters; it never timeskips more than a few hours. She started writing and posting just eight months ago, she's about an eighth of the way through her planned fic timeline, and the content she has so far posted to AO3 for it is already 450,000 words long. But most of us are normal humans. We're not, for the most part, wired to create linearly. We consume linearly, we experience linearly, so we assume we must also create linearly. But actually, a lot of us really suffer from trying to force ourselves to create this way, and we might not even realize it. If you're the kind of person who thinks you need to carrot-on-a-stick yourself into writing by saving the fun part for when you finally write everything that happens before it: Stop. You're probably not a linear writer. You're making yourself suffer for no reason and your writing is probably suffering for it. At least give nonlinear writing a try before you assume you can't write if you're not baiting or forcing yourself into it!! Remember: Writing is fun. You do this because it's fun, because it's your hobby. If you're miserable 80% of the time you're doing it, you're probably doing it wrong!

2. Rereading my own work. I used to hate reading my own work. I wouldn't even edit it usually. I would write it and slap it online and try not to look at it again. XD Writing nonlinearly forced me to start rereading because I needed to make sure scenes connected together naturally and it also made it easier to get into the headspace of the story to keep writing and fill in the blanks and get new inspiration. Doing this built the editing process into my writing process--I would read a scene to get back in the headspace, dislike what I had written, and just clean it up on the fly. I still never ever sit down to 'edit' my work. I just reread it to prep for writing and it ends up editing itself. Many many scenes in this fic I have read probably a dozen times or more! (And now, I can actually reread my own work for enjoyment!) Another thing I found from doing this that it became easy to see patterns and themes in my work and strengthen them. Foreshadowing became easy. Setting up for jokes or plot points became easy. I didn't have to plan out my story in advance or write an outline, because the scenes themselves because a sort of living outline on their own. (Yes, despite all the foreshadowing and recurring thematic elements and secret hidden meanings sprinkled throughout this story, it actually never had an outline or a plan for any of that. It's all a natural byproduct of writing nonlinearly and rereading.)

Unpopular writing opinion time: You don't need to make a detailed outline.

Some people thrive on having an outline and planning out every detail before they sit down to write. But I know for a lot of us, we don't know how to write an outline or how to use it once we've written it. The idea of making one is daunting, and the advice that it's the only way to write or beat writer's block is demoralizing. So let me explain how I approach "outlining" which isn't really outlining at all.

I write in a Notion table, where every scene is a separate table entry and the scene is written in the page inside that entry. I do this because it makes writing nonlinearly VASTLY more intuitive and straightforward than writing in a single document. (If you're familiar with Notion, this probably makes perfect sense to you. If you're not, imagine something a little like a more contained Google Sheets, but every row has a title cell that opens into a unique Google Doc when you click on it. And it's not as slow and clunky as the Google suite lol) (Edit from the future: I answered an ask with more explanation on how I use Notion for non-linear writing here.) When I sit down to begin a new fic idea, I make a quick entry in the table for every scene I already know I'll want or need, with the entries titled with a couple words or a sentence that describes what will be in that scene so I'll remember it later. Basically, it's the most absolute bare-bones skeleton of what I vaguely know will probably happen in the story.

Then I start writing, wherever I want in the list. As I write, ideas for new scenes and new connections and themes will emerge over time, and I'll just slot them in between the original entries wherever they naturally fit, rearranging as necessary, so that I won't forget about them later when I'm ready to write them. As an example, my current long fic started with a list of roughly 35 scenes that I knew I wanted or needed, for a fic that will probably be around 100k words (which I didn't know at the time haha). As of this writing, it has expanded to 129 scenes. And since I write them directly in the page entries for the table, the fic is actually its own outline, without any additional effort on my part. As I said in the comment reply--a living outline!

This also made it easier to let go of the notion that I had to write something exactly right the first time. (People always say you should do this, but how many of us do? It's harder than it sounds! I didn't want to commit to editing later! I didn't want to reread my work! XD) I know I'm going to edit it naturally anyway, so I can feel okay giving myself permission to just write it approximately right and I can fix it later. And what I found from that was that sometimes what I believed was kind of meh when I wrote it was actually totally fine when I read it later! Sometimes the internal critic is actually wrong. 3. Marinating in the headspace of the story. For the first two months I worked on [fic], I did not consume any media other than [fandom the fic is in]. I didn't watch, read, or play anything else. Not even mobile games. (And there wasn't really much fan content for [fandom] to consume either. Still isn't, really. XD) This basically forced me to treat writing my story as my only source of entertainment, and kept me from getting distracted or inspired to write other ideas and abandon this one.

As an aside, I don't think this is a necessary step for writing, but if you really want to be productive in a short burst, I do highly recommend going on a media consumption hiatus. Not forever, obviously! Consuming media is a valuable tool for new inspiration, and reading other's work (both good and bad, as long as you think critically to identify the differences!) is an invaluable resource for improving your writing.

When I write, I usually lay down, close my eyes, and play the scene I'm interested in writing in my head. I even take a ten-minute nap now and then during this process. (I find being in a state of partial drowsiness, but not outright sleepiness, makes writing easier and better. Sleep helps the brain process and make connections!) Then I roll over to the laptop next to me and type up whatever I felt like worked for the scene. This may mean I write half a sentence at a time between intervals of closed-eye-time XD

People always say if you're stuck, you need to outline.

What they actually mean by that (whether they realize it or not) is that if you're stuck, you need to brainstorm. You need to marinate. You don't need to plan what you're doing, you just need to give yourself time to think about it!

What's another framing for brainstorming for your fic? Fantasizing about it! Planning is work, but fantasizing isn't.

You're already fantasizing about it, right? That's why you're writing it. Just direct that effort toward the scenes you're trying to write next! Close your eyes, lay back, and fantasize what the characters do and how they react.

And then quickly note down your inspirations so you don't forget, haha.

And if a scene is so boring to you that even fantasizing about it sucks--it's probably a bad scene.

If it's boring to write, it's going to be boring to read. Ask yourself why you wanted that scene. Is it even necessary? Can you cut it? Can you replace it with a different scene that serves the same purpose but approaches the problem from a different angle? If you can't remove the troublesome scene, what can you change about it that would make it interesting or exciting for you to write?

And I can't write sitting up to save my damn life. It's like my brain just stops working if I have to sit in a chair and stare at a computer screen. I need to be able to lie down, even if I don't use it! Talking walks and swinging in a hammock are also fantastic places to get scene ideas worked out, because the rhythmic motion also helps our brain process. It's just a little harder to work on a laptop in those scenarios. XD

In conclusion: Writing nonlinearly is an amazing tool for kicking writer's block to the curb. There's almost always some scene you'll want to write. If there isn't, you need to re-read or marinate.

Or you need to use the bathroom, eat something, or sleep. XD Seriously, if you're that stuck, assess your current physical condition. You might just be unable to focus because you're uncomfortable and you haven't realized it yet.

Anyway! I hope that was helpful, or at least interesting! XD Sorry again for the text wall. (I think this is the longest comment reply I've ever written!)

And same to you guys on tumblr--I hope this was helpful or at least interesting. XD Reblogs appreciated if so! (Maybe it'll help someone else!)

[okay-j-hannah]

Mama Bear | Smosh 💛

Smosh : Multishot

Spencer Agnew x Reader

Word Count: 10.3k

Warnings: slow burn, friends to lovers, Spencer pining, reader is struggling in LA, not a lot of money, poor studio apartment, abusive boyfriend, physical/verbal abuse, lots of musical theatre talk

Request: This just came from my own head 😊  

A/N: Thank you for all the love 🥰 I've really needed to get this story out of my system

Part 1: The Kickstart

Part 2: Mama Bear {You Are Here}

The next few months have been a whirlwind.

You grow accustomed to the inner workings of Smosh. You have become an integral part of the team. Many turn to you for help and advice – always eager to do what you can.

Though sets make you camera shy and rooms with more than your closest friends make you quiet, everyone knows who you are.

Your famously large fanny pack, full of essentials, becomes the new ‘mama bear bag,’ as it is lovingly called by the cast and crew. You somehow always have exactly what everyone needs, almost like you can sense their need of help before they do.

On the set of Reddit stories, you walk in with your setting powder, ready to pat away any shiny spots on the cast. You stand behind Brennan at the camera, quietly observing. They were still setting up lights and sound.

You watch as Shayne unknowingly has a food stain on his face. Angela is having a bad hair day, unable to keep her hair out of her eyes. Chanse beside her has discovered a cut on his finger from opening cardboard packages that morning.

Without a word, you walk onto the set, opening your mama bear bag. You hand Shayne a wet wipe and gesture to the stain on his chin. You give some bobby pins to Angela, helping her make crisscrosses above her ears to hold back her hair. And you grab Chanse’s hand, carefully wrapping his cut with a band aid.

On your way out you crumble the band aid wrapper and take Shayne’s wet wipe.

“And yet again, we’ve been humbled by the mama bear bag,” Shayne chortles. “I swear I don’t know how we survived without (Y/N) all these years.”

“She might be the most observant person I know,” Chanse says, getting comfortable on the couch.

You stand back, waving them off as the cameras start to roll.

The trio get into the Reddit stories, laughing about the ridiculousness of the posts. The audacity of some of the writers has you giggling in the back. Angela is rioting on the couch, flinging herself around with laughs.

At one point she falls to the ground, smacking Chanse on the leg. When she gets back up, the bobby pins in her hair are off centered and no longer pinned in place.

She starts to wail as a bit. “(Y/N)! I ruined my hair.”

Shayne starts laughing heartily, holding onto the iPad, “Quick, everybody freeze. (Y/N) is coming to the rescue.”

Everyone giggles as you move onto the set, refraining from showing your face. You’d ask the editors to cut you out of the shot later.

~~~

Over on the Games set, you help a coworker behind the camera who has a headache. You pull a little organized container of medicine from your bag.

A few members of the cast were playing another round of Moose Master and Amanda was complaining about her dry hands.

You put your medicine pack away and extract a bottle of coconut milk lotion. You walk to the edge of the set and wiggle it in the air for Amanda to see.

She lights up, “Oh, yes please! Thank you, (Y/N).”

You toss the bottle and watch Amanda catch it.

“I will forever be impressed with how much that bag holds,” Angela shakes her head.

“The mama bear bag,” Courtney giggles.

Amanda tosses the bottle back at you, “Thanks, honey!”

“We love our mama bear (Y/N),” Arasha smiles.

~~~

On the set of SmoshCast, you walk in during an active shoot with Amanda, Shayne, and Spencer. In an act of retaliation, Amanda had jokingly texted you for drinks and snacks. Spencer was doing another one of his bits where he brings a crazy number of drinks on the podcast.

Completely disregarding his own rule to not have drinks and snacks while filming.

Shayne spots you and immediately starts wheezing, covering his face with both hands. Amanda is wide eyed and stunned.

“You actually brought stuff!”

Spencer is in the middle subtly shaking his head and looking at you with such warmth.

You bring a container of delicious looking fruit danishes, serving them on little platters. Then you reveal actual teacups that you generously pour a honeyed tea into.

“Holy shit – you brought a whole spread,” Amanda continues, narrating into the microphone for those that aren’t watching on video. “(Y/N) has brought actual porcelain teacups and cream cheese danishes.”

Shayne is still occupied with his wheezing, tears now developing in his eyes. “Like we’re on the set of fucking Bridgerton.”

You smile, “Now you can properly spill the tea.” You know your voice will be muffled on the podcast without a microphone, and you awkwardly shuffle away to keep your face off camera.

“I’ve just had the most brilliant idea,” Amanda says, taking a sip of her tea and devolving into an English accent.

“And what is that, good sir?” Spencer asks, eyes still lingering on you.

“Gentleman’s episode of Smosh Mouth,” Amanda continues, “Where we delve into the explicit details of our illegal mines and mistresses.”

Spencer chokes on a laugh, “That is quite astonishing.” He gives you a wink and you smile.

~~~

The latest Smosh Games idea was to have a Gentleman’s video playing Ultimate Werewolf. At one point, the other gentlemen gained up on Spencer and pretended to beat him up because he was the werewolf.

It was a hilarious bit and Alex, being the director, cuts the video and asks for you to do some special effects makeup on Spencer while the others have a lunch break.

You lead Spencer to the makeup vanity outside the set rooms.

“Please have a seat, Mr. Agnew.” You turn the chair towards him and grab the clothing protector apron.

Spencer places his fake cigar onto the vanity and continues his English accent. “Thank you, young chap. I say – I should very much like for you to deliver a most formidable contusion to my eye.”

You giggle, wrapping the apron over his front, like a hairdresser. It protects his costume from getting makeup on it.

“I shall deliver the most fearsome blow to your face – using my delicate brushes.” You remove his top hat while he laughs.

“Powerful brushes, I say.”

You pull out some stage makeup and a stippling sponge. With Spencer’s hands confined to beneath the apron, you lightly take away his glasses and place them on the vanity.

Spencer watches you with a warm gaze. As you near his face, he tries to look straight ahead instead of directly at you.

“I’m thinking a bruised cheek that grows into a black eye. And maybe some fake blood around your nose. I could do a busted lip too?”

He shrugs his shoulders, “Whatever makes me the ugliest.”

You smile, grabbing the yellow cream makeup. With your free hand, you push his hair away from his temple.

He closes his eyes at your touch.

You begin with a thin layer of yellow, then start to stipple purple and blue on top.

“Amanda is upset that we still have not had a hangout since you taking Angela to see my musical.”

He smiles, refraining from opening his eyes. Seeing you so close to his face would send his heart into overdrive.

“I’m still surprised that Angela wanted to come in the first place. She’s the one making jokes about how hanging out with coworkers is embarrassing.”

You use a maroon color to show a split in the middle of the bruise. “I was just thinking… maybe we should do something tonight. Can you look up for me?”

Spencer opens his eyes and looks toward the ceiling. You use the sponge and your fingertips to blotch color around his eye and cheek.

You smell like a flower garden. His pulse quickens. His throat bobs.

“We can celebrate another successful filming week,” you continue, oblivious to his visceral reaction to your presence.

“Y-Yeah,” he chokes out. “We can play games at my house and maybe watch a movie?”

You continue to blend out the cream makeup. “Awesome! I think Amanda, Shayne, and Courtney are down.”

You miss how his face dips a little when you mention other people.

“What about Aaron?” he asks.

You grab a different brush and start working on his lip, laying a base of concealer and dark colors.

He was finding it hard to take a full breath.

“I don’t think I’ll invite him,” you say quietly.

Spencer is unable to talk with you painting his lip. But his eyes snap to your focused ones. Was everything okay?

“He’ll be fine,” you continue, just as quietly. “I just… want to hang out with my friends.”

There’s something strange and suspicious about your tone of voice. Spencer starts to scrunch his brow, trying to figure you out.

You notice the worry in his expression. “It’s fine. I just… want to be out of the apartment.”

That doesn’t help his nerves.

You’re now applying a small amount of latex to make a visible wound on his lip. Letting it dry, you look at Spencer’s eyes to see him asking you a question with his eyebrows.

“Don’t worry,” you start to color the latex, “It’ll be fun.”

Spencer tries to say something, “Is there… ow!”

You smack his shoulder, “You’ll ruin your lip.” Your face seems a little sullen, but you give a small smile.

He slouches in the chair and gives you a penetrating look.

Back on the Smosh Games set, Alex continues to direct and you can already picture the cut scene in the video where Spencer is getting beat up to him now sitting in his chair with a messed up face.

It’s making you giggle as the other gentlemen comment on the bruising.

“I say, look at that ghastly contusion to your eye,” Shayne shouts.

Amanda flails her cigar around, “I do declare, it rather suits your complexion.”

Spencer readjusts his top hat, “I must profess, I have no idea what you’re talking about. I simply have some tenderness to my face.”

You laugh off stage – knowing that the editors would most likely put subtitles that said ((Y/N) laughing).

~~~

After the last shoot, you’re cleaning up the makeup vanities and grabbing some remover for Spencer. Your enormous fanny pack is strapped across your chest, almost all coworkers out of the building already.

The sets door flies open and causes you to jump.

Amanda and Spencer are there chatting away but pause when seeing you scared.

“Woah, you okay?” Amanda asks with a smile. “Sorry, we didn’t mean to startle you.”

Spencer looks really rough with his face still full of bruise makeup. But his eyes consider you quietly.

You wave them off, “I’m just a little jumpy. Here Spence.” You offer the makeup remover and a little bottle to take the latex off.

“I have to say, you are amazing at that, (Y/N),” Amanda says, leading the group toward the front doors. “Spencer literally looks like he’s been mauled by a bunch of gentlemen.”

“Man, I should have done a bite mark,” you laugh, “Mauled by a bunch of gentlemen.”

Amanda laughs again, “Gentleman Angela would 100% gnaw on your arm for accusing her as a werewolf.”

Spencer starts to laugh at that mental image, rubbing his face with the remover and a cotton pad. “Feral gentleman game would be so funny.”

“Because the irony is that we are gentlemen that are shitty people. Then we can take it a step further by being gentlemen that are shitty people with rabies.”

You snort, “I guess we have a new video pitch for the next meeting.”

“So, um…” Spencer opens the door, “I can give you a ride and we can all meet at my place?”

Amanda agrees, saying how Shayne and Courtney were planning on that anyway. You smile at him, causing strange things to fly around in his stomach.

“Is it weird of me to say I’m excited to see what your apartment looks like?”

He laughs, “Curiosity did kill the cat.”

“I can’t believe you just confessed to taking me to your place to kill me.”

“Not before I show you my katana,” Spencer smiles, opening the passenger door for you.

You laugh, “The murder weapon.”

Driving towards his apartment, Spencer is being hyperaware of how you’re acting. He was still suspicious of your motives for wanting to spend the night out. He notices you cowering into the car door.

He’s never noticed that before.

“Are you okay?”

You take a shaky breath, “Yeah, I’m fine. I don’t like driving much.”

“Is… is that why you take the bus? Did you choose not to have a car?” He keeps moving his eyes from the road to you.

You try to straighten out, “No, I can drive if I have to. I just don’t like to.” You hold onto your purse to give your hands something to do. “What should we play at your place?”

Spencer tries to let your explanation settle, but he’s still curious about your disklike of cars. “We could play Super Smash Bros.”

“Or Super Mario Party?”

He smiles, “Not before some pizza.”

The drive to his apartment is full of pleasantries, Shayne and Courtney already parked and holding boxes of pizza and breadsticks. Amanda is just helping them carry a box when you get out.

“Happy weekend!” you say cheerily. “Ready for some food and games?”

Amanda puts one arm around your shoulders, “I’m excited to get to know you more.”

“Yes!” Courtney adds, following Spencer to the door. “You’ve been at Smosh for a few months, and I still feel like we don’t know much about you.”

“Well, I’m… I wouldn’t say I enjoy talking about myself much,” you laugh awkwardly.

Amanda snickers, “Clearly.”

They walk inside the little apartment and are immediately welcomed by the mewling of a gray cat. You are obsessed.

“Aw!” you fall to your knees, “Hello, sweet girl.” You offer a hand and wait for the cat to sniff your fingers. “What’s your name, gorgeous?”

The little gray cat lifts her nose to the air before rubbing her face against your hand. You begin to melt.

Shayne starts laughing, startling the cat. “I think we know why (Y/N) wanted to hang out.”

“That’s Cleo,” Spencer says sweetly, putting his keys down and going to grab some drinks.

Courtney puts their share of the pizza boxes on a small dining table before joining you on the ground. “She is the prettiest little lady.”

Amanda helps to set out some paper plates and napkins before starting to serve. Shayne grabs himself and Courtney some slices before sitting on the couch in the living room. You stay with Cleo the cat, completely content to sit with her for the rest of the night.

It’s not until you notice a pair of feet standing in front of you that you look up, Cleo in your lap. Spencer stands there with an ice cold Diet Coke from the fridge.

You smile, taking the drink, “I didn’t know you were a Diet Coke fan.”

“I’m not,” he says.

Your smile falters for a second before a warm feeling swells in your chest. Cleo hops from your lap and Spencer offers a hand to you.

You take it, standing with ease. The others are already chatting and eating their pizza in the living room.

“Do you have any pets, (Y/N)?” Amanda asks.

You sit down beside her, Spencer quick to sit on your other side. “No, I couldn’t afford one,” you laugh awkwardly. “I don’t really have the space for one either.”

“Shame, it seems like you’re an animal person,” Amanda continues.

You nod enthusiastically, “I love animals.”

Shayne reaches for one of the switch controllers, “Fancy a game, Chosen?” he speaks in a silly lisp accent.

Spencer chuckles, settling in beside you. “Of course, Chosen. The only acceptable opponent… is obviously myself.”

A strange anime laugh comes from Shayne, and you smile. You’re rubbing shoulders with Spencer every time he moves his arm with the controller.

“Finally, girl talk,” Courtney says sarcastically. “(Y/N), how long have you lived here?”

“For about two years,” you say shortly. You don’t elaborate and you can feel the sudden shift of an awkward pause after you speak.

Amanda gives a laugh to fill the space, “What made you want to move here?”

“Probably the same reason many others do…” you say quietly, taking a sip from your soda to buy you time. “I wanted to live somewhere that might support my creative side. LA has a lot of creative and performing arts.”

Courtney agrees, putting an arm over the couch and behind Shayne. “Right, you’re a bit of a theatre nerd.”

“More than a bit,” Spencer butts in.

You nudge your shoulder into him. “I do love theatre.”

“I’m glad you’ve continued working with it to some capacity,” Amanda says. “I’ve been doing improv troops and sketches for years. The black box is my home.”

You smile, knowing that a black box was a dark room in a theatre where actors can improv something out of nothing. Sometimes people perform shows there, utilizing the empty space to be more creative.

“Are you a part of an improv group right now?” you ask, glad to steer the conversation off yourself.

“I’m a part of the Groundlings Improv Theatre and I keep doing performances at UCB as a Maude performer.”

You find that Spencer’s arm isn’t so much bumping into you as fully pressed against yours now. “What’s a Maude performer?”

Amanda perks up, “It’s someone that’s a part of UCB’s sketch comedy group. You have to audition annually and then help write for and perform sketches.”

“That sounds like a lot of fun,” you remark. “What about you Courtney?”

“I’ve found my way into being a main writer and a director on the Smosh channel. That’s where I’ve found my most creativity. I’ve helped with some FX makeup on some music videos, and I’ve made an online apparel rental subscription service. It’s called Courtney’s Rack,” they giggle for a second, “And it’s inspired by my own style.”

“You guys are so cool,” you say warmly. “Way to follow your passions.”

Amanda waves you off, “You too, girl. You’ve worked your way into a sketch group.”

You nod, but don’t elaborate. Instead you feel a chill – you shiver. “Are you guys excited about our next karaoke livestream?” You miss the way Spencer side eyes your shivers.

Courtney holds an invisible microphone, “Hell yeah! I think it’s time to get our Madonna on.”

“You haven’t seen how wild our karaoke streams go,” Amanda laughs, “Throw a bunch of attention seeking performers in front of the camera and all bets are off.”

Courtney shoves her, cackling, “Just calling all of us out.”

Spencer hits pause on the game and jumps from the couch. You watch him walk awkwardly around the ottoman and to the hall.

“Ha!” Shayne says in his silly voice. “The Chosen has realized that he can never beat himself. Therefore, I – the multiverse Chosen – have succeeded in defeating him.”

“We’re off set, Shayne,” Amanda rolls her eyes, “You can cut the act.”

Shayne combs his hair off his forehead, “Sorry, it’s just a part of me at this point.”

Spencer reappears with blankets. He tosses one toward the other couch with Shayne and Courtney. He lays the other over your lap and retakes his seat beside you.

You smile at him and whisper, “Thank you.” His arm presses against yours as firmly as before.

“Welcome.”

“Are you planning on making a guest appearance, (Y/N)?”

You hum your confusion. “Hm? Me do karaoke on the stream? I don’t think so.”

“Why not! We invite crew on it all the time,” Amanda says cheerfully.

You shake your head, sipping your soda. “I couldn’t – not in front of all those people.”

“I bet you have a lovely singing voice,” Courtney smiles, “All those musicals you’ve been in.”

“Once upon a time…” you say quietly, “Maybe.”

“Well,” Amanda says warmly, “Maybe it’s time to try it again.”

You feel an ache enter your chest. It quells the ever constant anxiety roiling in your stomach.

Shayne cries his defeat, “Curses! Bested by the best.”

Spencer nods his head in acknowledgement, “Would the ladies like to participate?”

“I’m ready for a movie,” Amanda says, putting her pizza plate down. “I’m feeling something epic.”

“Like Interstellar,” Spencer says, putting his controller down.

Courtney sighs, “Like 13 Going On 30.”

Shayne starts laughing, leaning back and putting a hand on Courtney’s leg. “All right let’s compromise. Let’s watch Megamind.”

“I second that,” you say, “Or a Marvel movie.”

“Let’s watch Avengers,” Courtney says.

You all agree, Spencer flipping through his smart tv to get a streaming service. His arm against yours is full of warmth. You gravitate towards it, leaning into him more.

Cleo the cat pads over and jumps onto the couch between you and Amanda.

“Hello, sweetie,” Amanda coos. But Cleo turns her eyes onto you. She blinks slowly and crawls onto your blanketed lap.

You’re very pleased with yourself, petting her fur as she settles. Spencer looks at you, eyes moving from your contented face to the cat. He suddenly has to hold his hands in his lap to keep them from wrapping around you.

The movie begins with everyone settling in. Cleo the cat purrs in your lap, snuggling into a little ball. You pet her, subconsciously leaning into Spencer.

The longer the movie plays, Shayne and Amanda cracking jokes about certain parts, you feel sleepy.

Cleo is fully asleep in your lap, stretching her cute little paws.

Your body slumps more into the couch and into the side you’re leaning into – right into Spencer. He tries to keep his cool as your head falls closer and closer to his shoulder. He tries to ignore the looks the friends are giving you two.

He tries to keep his eyes on the tv screen, his hands being tightly held in his lap.

You fall asleep on his shoulder.

His heart beats faster.

The movie ends with the end credit scene and the friends begin to excuse themselves.

“We’ll just leave you to it,” Amanda says in a teasing tone. “Don’t stay up too late.”

“Remember to breathe,” Courtney snickers, getting her shoes on.

Shayne salutes him at the door, “Good luck, dude.”

You begin to stir as they shuffle out the door. Cleo turns onto her back, still asleep. Spencer turns his head to watch you wake.

He traces the outline of your face with his eyes. It’s soft and careful and warm.

His arm pleads to be moved around your shoulders. Hold you to him. Urge you back to sleep.

“God, I’m sorry,” you mumble sweetly. “I didn’t mean to fall asleep.”

“That’s okay,” he says just as quietly. “You must’ve needed it.”

You stretch, lifting your chin from his shoulder. He hates the rush of cold that it leaves against him.

“Thanks for letting me drool on your shirt.”

“I will never wash this shirt again.”

You giggle in a groggy way, eyes heavy. “That’s disgusting.”

“How dare you say that about your drool. Nothing about you is disgusting.”

You sit straighter, running your hand down Cleo once more. She begins to purr again in her sleep.

“She likes you a lot,” Spencer says quietly. “She latched onto you real quick.”

“I’m an animal whisperer,” you say, rubbing at your eyes. You still hadn’t noticed how enraptured Spencer was with you beside him.

He finds it hard to swallow – the dim light, quiet room, and comfy couch all tempting him.

“Are – Are you ready to go home?”

You heave a heavy sigh. “I guess.”

“You guess?” he asks playfully. “You frozen in place with Cleo in your lap?”

“Partially,” you hum. “I have to get home sooner or later.”

Spencer feels that itch that something is wrong. The same feeling he had when you asked to hang out. “Is… everything okay?”

“Fine,” you say sleepily.

“(Y/N),” he asks slowly, “Why did you want to be out of your apartment tonight?”

There’s a silence that speaks volumes. Your face falls in a way that scares Spencer. He turns his body to see you better – his arm falls onto the back of the couch.

“(Y/N)?”

You clear your throat. “I just wanted a break from Aaron. That’s all.”

“Why?”

You pat Cleo’s head, waking her up. She sits and stretches her back on your legs before hopping off. “Sometimes your partner frustrates you and you need to walk away, right?”

“Depends on what’s frustrating you,” Spencer says, watching you stand and fold the blanket.

“I don’t know, Spencer. He… I shouldn’t complain. He’s helping with the bills.”

Spencer stands with you, “But that doesn’t mean you have to deal with whatever’s bothering you.”

“It does when it puts food on the table and a roof over my head.”

“But you did that before him.” He follows you to the door to drive you home.

Walking outside in the cold, you start to get upset. “You don’t understand.”

“Maybe I don’t. You have a new job that pays those bills, (Y/N). There shouldn’t be anything tying you to him like that.”

“I… I don’t like talking about this, Spencer.”

Now in the car, you drive down the street with momentary silence. Spencer feels anger brewing in his stomach. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to butt into your relationship.”

“It’s okay,” you say quietly, arms around yourself. “My friends are entitled to their opinions.”

“But not when I make you upset like this,” he says. “I’m just worried.”

You look at him with sad eyes. “Why?”

He flexes his fingers against the steering wheel. “I just… you’re my friend, (Y/N). Of course I worry about you. I care about your wellbeing.” There’s a pause where he feels a joke bubbling out of him. “And not just because I need you on set for my job to function properly.”

You smile and it relieves him.

“Thanks, Spence.”

The car parks outside your shabby apartment and Spencer stares at the chipped door with slight disdain.

“I’ll see you next week,” you say, opening the car door.

“Hey,” Spencer says suddenly, drawing your attention.

You bow down to see him still inside the car, “Yeah?”

“Call me if you need anything,” he says firmly. “Okay?”

You look at the seriousness in his face and start to nod a little bit. “Okay.”

~~~

The next week begins with a new round of meetings and writing. You are not needed until characters are decided for sketches, but you help the other art coordinator Alex to organize a few other set items.

You’re able to come in later than usual to do this.

You get off the bus and begin your walk toward the Smosh office. Your hair is down and slightly obscuring your vision. You try not to touch the makeup on your face too much.

“Good morning, Selina,” you say in your same sweet tone.

Selina waves at you, “Good morning to you too.”

You walk past the lunch tables and toward the art department by the costume and props storage. You wave at Erin and Josh before sitting at your desk.

Cassie fills you in on a few projects that the writing room is working on. You begin by cataloging what you’ll need to set on costume racks for the next filming week. You give a list of makeup and hair care refills to be ordered.

It’s into the afternoon when you head toward sets to organize racks and vanities for the coming week.

“(Y/N)!”

You turn toward the hallway of pods where the cast and crew work on the media side of things. Tommy and Spencer are heading towards you.

“Have you seen some of the new videos that’ve posted?” Tommy asks.

You ruffle the sides of your hair, making sure they lay to hide some of your face. “No, I don’t really look at the views and things like you guys.”

Spencer has a big smile on his face, “Well, the comments on the last few have been pretty good.”

“Meaning?” you say, walking into the empty sets to reach the costume racks. You don’t want to give them enough time to look at your face.

“Meaning that the fans have started to notice how often we talk about you on set.”

You turn sharply on your heel, Tommy and Spencer running into each other. “I’m sorry?”

“Look at some of these comments,” Tommy says, holding an iPad to your face. You grab it and begin to scroll, seeing line after line that’s asking about you.

“Angela asking for mama (Y/N) to fix her hair is so funny!”

“Does anybody know who (Y/N) is?”

“Is (Y/N) a new member of the Smosh crew?”

“Face reveal for (Y/N) please!?! We want to see who you guys are talking about!”

“Amanda saying yes please and then a lotion bottle being launched at her head took me so off guard.”

“Mama bear bag is my new favorite character.”

“Video for what’s inside (Y/N)’s mama bear bag!”

“Ah! (Y/N) almost being revealed on Smosh Mouth!!”

“(Y/N) bringing a full English tea set is hilarious.”

“We love a supportive crew member trying to encourage spilling the tea.”

“I love hearing (Y/N) laugh off set.”

“Spencer’s gentleman is so feral. His true self comes out with that top hat.”

“Do you think (Y/N) was the one that did his makeup?”

“I swear I hear the cast mention (Y/N) every video now. How can they tease us?!”

You start to feel a tightening in your chest, your breath a little shallow. “All of these… people recognize my name?”

Tommy is still giddy with the comments, “Yeah! Isn’t that crazy? We might have to have you guest star just to tease them a little bit more.”

Spencer notices that you are a little tense. “But we don’t have to do that. We just wanted to show you the positive response from the audience.”

You nod, swallowing hard. “Thanks, but maybe we should hold off for a while longer.”

Tommy seems a little disappointed, but Spencer waves him away. He wants a moment with you alone. He watches you sort through some old costumes on the rack.

“I’m sorry, we didn’t mean for that to stress you out.”

“It was a little overwhelming is all,” you give a strained smile. “I’m sure I’ll get used to it.”

Spencer puts his hands in his denim jacket. “We’ll wait until you’re ready.” His brows scrunch when he notices something on your face.

“Got anything fun planned for Games this next week?”

He leans over to see your complexion better, starting to get in your way. “Um… we’re thinking about some guessing games and… and a Throw Throw Burrito…” His hand lifts from his pocket and you lean away.

“What are you doing?”

“What’s that on your face?” he asks.

You turn away sharply, “What do you mean?” You start walking towards the vanities on the outside of the sets.

Spencer is close on your heels. “There’s something by your eye.”

At a mirror, you open your giant fanny pack to find your makeup. Under the lights, you notice some smudging around your eye where pristine makeup had been before. Yellowing spots that still hold a hint of blue and purple.

“Oh dammit,” you mutter, pulling out your concealer. “I ran into a cabinet this weekend and got a black eye. I thought I could keep it painted to avoid any awkward questions.”

You smudge concealer and foundation under your eye. You can see Spencer behind you in the mirror.

“That looks like a nasty bump,” he says lowly.

“Yeah, it hurt a bit.” You say, feigning a smile. You can hear a hint of disbelief in his voice. “I’m fine, really. It’s just a little bruise.”

Spencer purses his lips and nods his head, “Sure.”

You pat the makeup down and walk back to the sets to grab the sorted costumes.

~~~

You walk through the office with a few little presents and gifts of food. Your fanny pack is full of essentials, your arms full of plastic bags and a large drink carrier in your hands. A ballpoint pen sticks awkwardly from behind your ear, and you mumble the checklist you made earlier that day.

In another writing and meeting week, you find other things to occupy your time when your usual responsibilities are completed. It keeps you busy.

And out of your apartment.

Sharply turning a corner, you tap on the glass door of the conference room. People at the table smiling and waving you in, you quietly slide open the door to enter. The look of concentration leaves your face to reveal a wide grin.

Ian pauses his presentation of a fresh project by waving at you and gazing excitedly at what you brought.

“Don’t mind me,” you whisper. The same thing you whisper every time you make one of these deliveries.

All the main cast were there, along with a few representatives of social media and the heads of production. They were going over ideas for the next livestream to raise money for a foundation.

But you were more focused on getting this little ‘side quest’ done. Side quest meaning it wasn’t on your usual list of responsibilities. You start to pass out drinks to their corresponding owners, doing so in such a fluid motion that no one doubted their cup was exactly what they ordered.

Next, you open the plastic bags digging into your arms to hand out sandwiches and salads. You normally pitch in a few extra dollars to buy a better lunch for your coworkers and friends. You can see a speculating eye from Anthony as he accepts his deluxe meal.

You put on your best smile and wave a hand. “Don’t worry about it.” And before you leave, you reach into your fanny pack to extract a small box of cookies. “For dessert,” you whisper with a wink.

And before anyone can protest the homemade treat, you run out of the room with a few more drinks and meals to pass out.

There was a smaller number of people in the office today as it was primarily a writing day. You go searching for the few editors that were still working on things.

You find Kiana and give her another box of homemade cookies, then you find Tim to give him a coffee.

This became another routine for you. Just like how you use your mama bear bag to help on set so much, you use this spare time to help all the editors and production teams. People at Smosh start to expect your little visits and gifts.

Many know you by name, by smile, and by gifts. They come to love the sight of you because it meant something sweet was on the way – whether it was a thoughtful treat or a thoughtful conversation.

You took this self-proclaimed occupation very seriously. You love caring for your coworkers and friends.

That didn’t mean you never got stressed.

Your steps are quick again as you make your way to other editing pods. That checklist in your head never seems to grow smaller:

Get Damien his coffee

Give cookie box to art department

Ask Angela and Amanda about seeing that play together

Give Spencer his drink

Give Tommy a hug and see how he’s doing

Make sure Spencer actually ate a lunch

Update portfolio with some special effects makeup

Ask Spencer if you were…

Someone suddenly crashes into you, sending the last few cups of coffee into the air and all over your shirt. You jump at the steaming hot liquid, pulling against the fabric of your shirt to keep it from your skin.

“Oh, shit! I’m sorry, (Y/N).”

You wince and look up to see Spencer’s sympathetic face. “It’s… it’s fine. I’ll just bump a few things on my list and go get changed and grab more coffee.”

He immediately knelt down to pick up the remains of the cups and carrier. One foam cup had an off-color soda dripping from it. “I’m guessing this one’s my kickstart? Serves me right not looking where I’m going.”

He gives you a smile, his eyes sloping in natural concern. His heart beats in an uneven way. You look so flustered and worried – making your cheeks turn pink.

“Don’t worry about it. I’ll just…” You hold your sticky shirt a few inches from your stomach, closing your eyes and thinking hard, “I’ll figure something out.”

Spencer sighs, “I just ruined your whole agenda, didn’t I?” He picks up your ballpoint pen and quietly slides it to behind your ear, “Please don’t stress out about it.”

“I’m not sure that’s possible,” you let out a nervous laugh. “I guess I could find a costume or merch shirt to wear.”

“You know I have one of my Smosh sweatshirts in my pod. You want to change into that? Get yourself out of brewing in your own shirt.”

When he laughs at his own joke, it makes you giggle. “Uh… actually, that’d be really nice.”

He leads the way toward his pod, “I know you’re not working on any art coordinating today.” He goes under his desk to extract a simple pastel colored hoodie. “So you know you could take a short day instead of making up errands to do.”

You grab the sweatshirt and head to the bathrooms, “Yeah, but then I’d be stuck at home.”

He follows you down the hall, “You make yourself intentionally busy to avoid being at home?”

“Precisely,” you say, opening the bathroom door. “I’d rather be with all you guys.”

Spencer waits patiently outside, smiling to himself and shaking his head. You think you’re so clever, but he knows there’s something going on in your apartment. Something that makes you afraid to stay there.

It only took one minute to change, but maybe two minutes to stare in the mirror and identify the smell that was undeniably Spencer. A clean laundry detergent smell, like the ocean, but with something spicy.

You walk out to see Spencer eyeing you.

“You look cute.”

Something tightens in your chest. “Thanks weirdo.”

His eyes notice something along your chin. “What happened here?” he points to a spot on your jaw.

“Oh, I’m not sure. Probably some clumsy accident,” you laugh off.

It looks like another bruise. Smaller than your eye. But a bruise nonetheless.

Spencer frowns, something protective and angry beating in his chest. “You seem to get a lot of those lately.”

You shrug your shoulders. “I gotta pass out these last lunches to Bailey and Brennan.”

~~~

After a long day of reorganizing, passing out homemade treats, and checking in on people – you are exhausted.

So when you walk out the front doors a little before everyone else and see the pouring rain… it doesn’t lift your exhaustion in the slightest.

Preparing yourself, you walk outside, lifting the hoodie that you borrowed from Spencer to cover your head.

The bus stop is just a couple blocks away, but you are soaked through by the time you sit on the bench. You wait with your hands in your sweatshirt pockets, hoping the bus will be there earlier than usual.

A coldness begins to drip down your back and you’re sure this will develop into an unwanted flu.

Shivering, you hardly notice when a car pulls over on the side of the road and directly in front of you.

It’s Spencer who jumps out, baseball cap on to shield his glasses from the rain. He runs around the car and crouches in front of you.

“What are you doing!?”

“Waiting for the bus like I do every day,” you say like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

He’s not happy about it. “Even in the rain? Didn’t you think to ask somebody for a ride home?”

You pause for a second. “No, I didn’t.”

“Well,” he puts on a cheesy smile, “This is a prime time to start. I’ll give you a ride.”

“Really, Spencer – it’s okay. I’m fine with waiting.”

He straightens out and gives you a deadpanned stare. “Are you also fine with contracting pneumonia?”

You roll your eyes, and he knows he’s won. “All right, let’s go.”

He open the passenger door and you clamber in. You’re nearly chattering with cold by the time he sits down. He promptly turns on the heat.

“Why didn’t you call someone when you noticed it was raining?”

“Because I didn’t think of it.”

“Ms. Independent over here,” Spencer laughs.

You playfully punch his shoulder, “So what? I would have been perfectly fine on my own.”

He looks at you sincerely, “I know. I know you are capable of doing it on your own. But I still would like you to let me help you.”

You hold yourself, beginning to shiver. Though your head was protected by the hood, the strands of hair spilling out were soaked. It wasn’t helping that your clothes were all damp and now resting on your chilled skin.

Spencer feels a sympathetic ache settle into his chest. “Aaron couldn’t pick you up?”

You bite down to keep your teeth from chattering. Then you use your favorite word. “I didn’t want to inconvenience him.”

It makes the ache pulsate in Spencer’s chest. “Because you know he’d be upset by you asking?”

“It’s understandable when I ask so much of him.”

Wonderment befuddles Spencer. When have you ever been someone to ask too much? If anything you don’t ask for enough things. “I think if you love someone, you’d be willing to do pretty much anything for them.”

“There are different kinds of love,” you say in a soft voice.

Spencer doesn’t like it. It sounds afraid.

“You might be right about that,” he swallows, driving down your street. “Remember to call me if you need anything.”

You smile like you always do when he says that. It’s become a regular thing.

“Sure,” you get out of the car, “Get home safely, Spence.”

And he watches you walk inside and even a little bit after that. Unsure of how to interpret the ache still in his chest.

~~~

You sit at the vanities with Shayne, helping him look like a ghost for an upcoming sketch. You put in white hair color spray and attempt to tame it while he sits patiently.

“Hey, are you okay?” he asks sincerely.

“Yeah, I’m fine.” You say with an easy smile, “Are you okay?”

He returns your smile, “Yeah, you seem a little tired.”

Was it the circles under your eyes or the lack of color in your face? “I haven’t been sleeping well.”

“That sucks,” he winces, “Anything keeping you up?”

You feel vulnerable for a second, “Just taking care of my boyfriend.” You give an uneasy laugh, “He’s been having a lot of boys nights out drinking.”

Shayne furrows his brow, and you smack his shoulder as you try to smooth his ghost makeup.

“Sorry,” he mumbles, “Doesn’t sound very fun.”

You shake your head, “But then I get to come here and be with all of you!”

He contemplates your expression, seeing the smile you put on top of the stress. “Have you noticed the number of commenters asking about you?”

“Of course I have. Spencer loves to bring them up.”

“They love you already,” Shayne chuckles, “They love how you help on set, especially when you throw in a little joke with it. They love that you take care of us.”

You feel that anxiety of the audience always watching eating at you. But it starts to be smothered by another feeling of pride as you realize people are acknowledging you for your efforts.

“That’s kind of them. I’m just doing my job.”

“Above and beyond your job, more like it.” Shayne closes his eyes as you put makeup around them. “They’ve really adopted calling you mama bear because of your mama bear bag.”

That makes you chuckle, “You have to be prepared for anything.”

“I’m glad we got to hang out,” Shayne says, his eyes moving to follow you, but staying still while the makeup settles. “We should plan another one soon.”

“That’d be a lot of fun.”

“Spencer never hosts big hang outs,” he says with a little smirk. “I was surprised when he was so willing.”

You pat down the makeup with some setting powder. “Well, I think when I mentioned hanging out he thought it was just going to be us two. Then I told him I’d invited all you guys. He was kind of roped in by that point.”

“That explains it,” Shayne says with a sigh. “Of course he’d be more willing to host when it’s just you two.”

“Why do I have a feeling there’s something more to that?”

Shayne shrugs, letting you take off the black apron that protects his costume from the makeup. “I just mean that Spencer would rather have one on one hangouts than be a part of a big group. It’s the black cat in him.”

“The black cat,” you laugh. “I’ve never heard of someone being called that before.”

“You know… like how people call some dudes golden retriever guys?”

You raise your eyebrows, “Kind of like you?”

Shayne gives a funny look. “Sure. Spencer is a black cat kind of guy. Just watch, you’ll notice.”

“What do you think I am?” you ask, cleaning up the vanity. “Do I have cat energy?”

“Maybe a little,” Shayne says, considering you. “But you remind me more of a… sunflower.”

“Never heard that one before,” you say, walking with him to the Smosh set.

“It’s just… you're bright and pretty and fun,” he says casually, “Especially with your smile.” You pass some writers and producers on their way to help with lunch. The caterers must’ve been seen pulling in.

Spencer is among them with Alex Tran.

You walk right up to them, “Do I give off sunflower energy?”

He looks taken aback and Alex smiles instantaneously. “I’m sorry, what?”

“You know…” you point at Shayne, “Golden retriever energy,” you point at Spencer, “Black cat energy.” You then point at yourself, “Possible sunflower energy?”

“What a nice way to say you’re a grumpy old man sometimes,” Alex says hilariously.

Shayne starts to snort with laughter. Spencer gives them a glare but tries to answer you seriously.

“Um… y-yeah I would consider you a sunflower.” He watches you start to smile, “Especially right now. And the fact you smell like a garden all the time.”

Your eyes widen slightly as you look at him with confusion. “I smell like a garden?”

“Uh…” Spencer starts to splutter in his panic of possibly offending you. “You know, like flowers. You smell like flowers all the time. It’s just… something I’ve noticed.”

“From all the times you’ve been sniffing her?” Alex asks incredulously. That sends Shayne over the edge and the wheezing starts to come out.

You fold your arms, sucking in your lips to hide a smile.

“No, I didn’t say that,” Spencer retorts loudly, waving a finger at his friends. “People can smell people unintentionally. When you’re in the same vicinity. And (Y/N) smells like flowers whenever she walks by.”

You smile at him, completely endeared by him. “Thanks Spencer. It’s lilies.”

All the boys stop their antics and look at you.

“I love lilies,” you say, “Or lily-of-the-valley.”

Alex shrugs their shoulders, “I feel like I’m missing out. I have no idea what lilies smell like.”

You tilt your head to the side and expose your neck to them. “Then take a whiff.”

Shayne shakes his head, “That’s so unhinged.”

Spencer is stuck staring at the exposed skin of your neck, your head turned away and your hair falling behind your shoulder. He’s still daydreaming as he walks to lunch.

~~~

There’s something about Spencer today that is not sitting well with you. He seems a little nervous, a little fidgety, like anything could scare the living daylights out of him.

You wonder what is ailing him while you check in on all the editors in their pods. You leave a little treat on Erin’s desk and ask Courtney for her opinion on a cardigan you want to buy. You give a new guitar pick to Josh, telling him how the engraving of a sun reminded you of him. He beams afterwards.

You compliment Damien’s desk, asking him how he’s been lately. Out of the corner of your eye, you notice Spencer spinning side to side in his chair. He’s looking at you with a straight face.

You talk to Shayne about sharing a Kristin Hannah book that you love, and you notice Spencer wiping his hands down his pants, fixing his glasses a worrisome number of times.

You pick up a bakugan that has fallen off Alex’s desk. You ask about it while noticing Spencer licking the corner of his mouth as he watches you.

It takes another five minutes before you’re at Spencer’s desk. “Hey!”

“H-Hey,” he says in return. He clears his throat and you can tell he’s biting the inside of his cheek. You furrow your brow.

“Are you okay?”

His eyebrows raise, “Y-Yeah, of course I’m okay.” You miss how Alex starts to smile.

“Sure. You just seem a little… on edge today.”

“Yeah, just… thinking about an upcoming shoot.”

You nod slowly, squinting your eyes like you don’t believe him. “Alrighty then. I’ll see you later on set.”

He waves you off and then hides his face in his hands. The pod of boys starts to laugh.

“You are completely hopeless,” Shayne wheezes.

Damien is more sincere, “You’re in a tough spot.”

“I think it’s gotten worse,” Alex says, taking a sip of a drink to hide their smile.

Spencer starts to bounce his legs with the nerves, his head bouncing with them. “This is ridiculous.”

“It’s sad,” Shayne chokes out, “You got to tell her.”

“Tell her what?” Spencer slumps back in his chair, “Hey, (Y/N)! Guess what? I’ve had feelings for you since you worked at that gas station, and I’ve been trying to get rid of them for months but seeing you every day has only made it worse. So anyway, you should leave your douchebag boyfriend and be with me instead!”

Damien sucks in his lips, trying to be genuine. “Yeah, I don’t think that’s going to go over well.”

Spencer groans, rubbing at his face with his hands, messing up his hat. “I don’t know what to do.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you this distraught before,” Shayne says, “It’s more than a little disconcerting.”

“It’s starting to scare me a little,” Alex confesses, “Why is it worse today? You look like you have a ticking time bomb up your ass.”

There are some laughs until Spencer wipes the sweat at his temples. “I’ve been trying to ask her to hang out, just us.”

“To do what?” Damien asks seriously.

“I never pictured you as a homewrecker, Spencer,” Shayne says surprisingly.

Spencer waves his hands around, “No, not anything like that. I’m trying to be her friend.”

“And spending an evening alone together will prove that?” Alex asks with a funny look on their face.

“No, I just… I don’t know.” Spencer is at a loss. “If I can’t be with her, then I want to be good friends.”

“With benefits?” Shayne asks in a low tone, less with humor and more with serious questioning.

Spencer is mortified, “No! Just being good friends. I think having her in my life, even as a friend, will make me way happier than without her.”

“That’s sweet,” Damien says with rosy cheeks. “I think you should ask her.”

Spencer thought he could fit the role of best friend rather nicely. Maybe it would help him put his feelings to rest. Maybe it would help convince him that being friends was enough. Just to have part of you would be worth it.

But the thought of having all of you… to unashamedly hold you, touch you, kiss you, call you his. It put that all too familiar ache in his chest. The same warm, pounding ache that he feels whenever you’re near. Whenever he thought of you.

It’s what he’s feeling as he walks toward the green room – a little section next to the hallway of pods. It has a velvet green couch and a black vanity beside it.

You’re sitting in the makeup chair, spinning around mindlessly while looking at your phone.

Spencer stands there awkwardly, hands stuffed into his pockets, thumbs tapping a restless beat against his thighs.

You finally notice him. “Oh, hey Spencer.” He gives you a quiet greeting and you sit up with that same worry you’ve felt over him all day. “What’s up?”

He clears his throat. “Well, I… I was wondering if maybe… um – well, what…” He shakes his head, using a hand to fix his glasses. “I was wondering what has you so engrossed in your phone?” He’s mentally kicking himself. “A new Ghost Files episode?”

You smile as he remembers one of the ghost investigation channels you really like. “No, I was just contemplating buying the new Wicked on Amazon Prime.”

Spencer raises his eyebrows, “I think as an established theatre kid you legally have to own that movie.”

“Have you seen it?” you ask with a wider grin.

He feels warm at seeing you smile. “Yeah, it’s good.”

“That’s…” you contemplate his tense demeanor. “That’s not what you wanted to ask me, was it?”

He lets out a breathy laugh. “No, you’re right. I wanted to ask if you wanted to hang out tonight.”

“Oh, yeah! What’s everyone doing?” you lean forward.

His throat gets drier, “Um… no, I meant just you and me. I don’t really feel like hanging out with a bunch of people.”

“Ah,” you say funnily. “The black cat emerges.”

Relief starts to trickle in as he takes in your smile. “Right.”

“Well, what did you have in mind? My place isn’t exactly free with Aaron being there. He’s having a poker night with his work buds. It gets… well, I wouldn’t want to be there while they’re playing.”

Spencer feels something steely grow in his stomach. “We can go to my place. Play a game; watch a movie. Or maybe a musical.”

Your eyes get wide, “You really know how to woo a lady. A night in with a musical?” you give a chef’s kiss.

And that night you do head to Spencer’s house. He offers you a ride, but you’re flustered as it is with evading Aaron and his poker friends. It would make it a lot worse if he were to see Spencer picking you up.

You grab your purse and leave a platter of finger food for the boys. Aaron is already three beers deep when he demands a kiss from you.

“You think you can leave without giving me a kiss?” He slouches in his folding chair, the plastic dipping dangerously.

You patter over and leave a kiss on his cheek. Aaron grabs your upper arm and pulls you closer, “A real kiss.”

After a beat where his poker friends are snickering, you lean over to kiss his lips. They’re sour with beer. He smacks your ass for good measure. “Don’t stay out late – I’ll think this company meeting is actually a rendezvous.”

You wave him off, leaving the apartment as quickly as you can. You speed to the bus stop, excited to have a night in the company of someone that you like being around.

Walking to Spencer’s apartment took longer than you were expecting, but it was worth it to see he had set up a Jenga game, favorite drinks out, and Wicked already on the tv.

“I’m so excited,” you say a little breathlessly, taking off your shoes. You wince a little when you notice that above your socks, there were open blisters from your shoes rubbing your heel. “Shoot, um… Spence, do you have some band aids I could use?”

He slides from the kitchen with worry in his expression, “Yeah, what’s wrong?” He looks at you twisting around to look at the back of your heels, “Damn, that looks like it hurts.”

“I didn’t realize my socks had slid down,” you laugh it off.

Spencer grabs two band aids from a cupboard, “Here, sit on the couch.”

“That’s all right, Spence, I can put them on.”

He’s already unwrapping one of the bandages, “I know you can, but let me do it.”

“Seriously, Spence, you don’t have…”

He stops you, pointing to the couch. “Hey, just because you’re able to do it, doesn’t mean you always have to. Let me help – you’ll be doing me a favor – letting me feel useful.”

You smile with embarrassment in your cheeks. You sit down and twist your hips so you can show the wound on your heels. Spencer sits on the coffee table and gingerly lifts your leg to his knee.

He carefully lays the band aid on your heel, holding your socked feet with warm hands. He’s gentle in how he puts your leg down and grabs the other. You accommodate by twisting your hips the other way to expose your heel to him.

He repeats the process, “Was it a far walk to my place?”

“Not too far.”

“Can you explain what not too far means?” he asks with a smirk.

You play with your fingers, pinching the skin around your nail. “Maybe fifteen-twenty minutes from the bus stop.” You notice his eyes look a little upset at that. “I was walking pretty fast. I didn’t want to keep you waiting.”

“And you wouldn’t let me pick you up because…?” he moves to throw away the band aid wrappers.

You continue to pinch and pick at your fingers. “Because my boyfriend is having a poker night with his friends. They get a little rowdy and drunk and I know he’d do something stupid if he saw you pick me up.”

Spencer returns to the coffee table, sitting on the carpet, “What kind of stupid?”

“Like…” you slide off the couch to meet him on the carpet. “He might try to pick a fight.”

“With whom?”

Spencer was definitely probing for a specific answer. He tries to be nonchalant.

You watch him remove a block from the Jenga tower. “Either of us, I guess.”

Something sad enters you. Something big and scary. It weighs on you and makes your shoulders sink. Spencer can hear it in your voice; can see it in your stance.

“That’s not very nice of him.”

A sad smile grows on your face but doesn’t meet your eyes. “No, I guess not.”

“Is he like that a lot?” Spencer asks cautiously.

You remove a Jenga block. “Maybe.” You look at Spencer and see the sincerity in his gaze. “Yeah.”

“And you’re with him still because…?”

You take a deep breath, leaning against the couch and pulling your knees to your chest. “To be honest, I don’t know.”

“Then why don’t you leave him?”

“Because he’ll be angry.”

Spencer looks at you with a furrowed brow, “You don’t want to make him angry?”

“And I don’t know – I still care about him.”

“Do you love him?”

You pause, the Jenga game still ongoing. “I’m not sure.”

“I’d take that as a sign.”

“It’s not as easy as it sounds,” you say quietly.

Your tone makes that ache in his chest pulse painfully. He hates to hear you sound sad and afraid. “You’re thinking about it, at least?”

You nod your head and silence consumes you. You did not want to dwell on boyfriend problems. “Can we watch the movie while we play?”

Spencer nods, grabbing the remote to start the show. Your mood instantly lifts. Like a flower turning towards the sun. He beams at your radiance.

He’s even more astonished when you start to sing.

“Holy shit, (Y/N). You can sing!”

You giggle as you continue to follow along with the musical. The Jenga game is eventually finished, blocks spilling over Spencer as he tries to pull some crazy move. You’re laughing as you pick up the blocks.

Spencer finds one of his blankets, Cleo the cat waking from her after dinner nap.

He sits on the couch beside you and drapes the blanket over you two. He is purposeful in how close he sits beside you.

“You should sing on our karaoke livestream.”

You shake your head, “No way.”

“But you sing so well!” he protests, gesturing to the musical you’re watching. “The viewers would go nuts for it.”

“I don’t know,” you say, leaning back into the couch. Your arms are fully touching. “They talk about me enough as it is.”

Spencer is determined, “I’ll sing a duet with you.”

“Seriously?” you ask, playing with your fingers again.

He watches you pick at your soft skin. “Of course, the fans have been begging to see you for months now. What a better way to do a face reveal than with a livestream for charity?”

“I’ll think about it,” you say quietly.

Spencer grabs your hand, keeping it from picking at your nailbeds. “Good.” He’s not sure what to do after that, letting go of your hand promptly.

You smile, content with leaning your head against his shoulder, unaware of how that little action caused his heart to pound.

That familiar ache consuming him.

An ache that Spencer is now beginning to wonder about. Wonder what would cause it. He was starting to recognize it as something equally terrifying and wonderful.

That ache was how he felt about you.

How he loved you.

~~~

Taglist: @maggiecc @tinkerbellsgf @georgeweaslysgirl

[mrsriddlenott]

~Another Lesson?~

Bsf!JJ Maybank x Innocent!Reader

Warnings: Smut(unprotected piv), Fluff, Love confessions, kinda unrealistic loss of virginity, lil bit of fingering, Praise kink, lil bit of Innocence kink, kinda breeding kink, hints of a Daddy kink, they make out while he’s still covered in grease so wtv warning that needs(I used it to represent his corruption kink😊), a lil bit of roleplaying, they shower together.

Not proofread so point out any mistakes ❤️

{masterlist} • {PART ONE}

————

“Who told you I lost my virginity?” You laugh to Sarah, eyes bouncing between her and Kie as their smiles drop with your words.

“We heard it from some kook, she said she saw you and JJ sneak off together at John B’s party the other night. Said she heard you slept together. She’s been telling everyone.” Sarah’s face contorts in a bit of a grimace at your face as she speaks, eyeing you apologetically.

You scoff, shaking your head as your eyes find JJ’s toned arms where he works under the hood of your rickety old car parked a ways in front of where you and your friends sit on the porch, “It wasn’t for lack of trying, I’ll admit, but no I have not lost it….yet.”

“Yet?” They say in unison as JJ smirks, clearly eavesdropping, his eyes catching yours for a second before returning to his work, “So you were with JJ though?” Kie asks, a smile growing on her face at your accomplishment.

“Yup, finally.” You announce, popping your P proudly and laughing together, catching those blue eyes over their shoulders again. JJ sends a wink your way before leaning across the engine of the beat up truck as you watch his hands, fingers covered in grease and expertly maneuvering. Eyes locked on the action even though you had no clue what he was doing under there, but you sure as hell liked the view his sleeveless shirt gave you.

You lean in as you continue speaking, not wanting to boost JJ’s ego too much more, “It was amazing by the way.” You whisper, leaning back to cross your legs together, ignoring the way JJ’s eyes linger on the action instead of his work on your car.

“That’s good, you deserve to have fun just like the rest of us,” Sarah states simply, smiling at you comfortingly, “Ignore the rumors and just do what you want, I did and it turned out great for me.” She shrugs, smiling as she remembers the secretive early days of her and John B’s relationship.

“That’s exactly what I plan to do Sarah, thank you for the wonderful advice,” Smiling at your obvious boost of confidence your friends look to each other again, knowing of your crush on JJ and understanding your excitement completely.

“If you weren’t gonna be too busy today,” Kie starts in a teasing tone, looking to you as she suppresses a laugh, “We were planning on getting lunch at the Wreck, Cleo’s probably already heading over if you wanna come too?”

“I do not plan to step foot in there on my day off, no offense Kie because I do love it there,” You laugh, watching as they eye eachother knowingly, arching their eyebrows to you suspiciously, “Okay, I might have other reasons to stay at this very empty, very private home, but you don’t need to worry about that.”

“Text us.” Kie states simply, giving you a wink as her and Sarah stand from the old couch in front of you, vanishing towards Kie’s parked car while you stand, making your way to your best friend as he works. Eyeing the sweat that drips down his arm, smiling as you let your eyes wander over his form. Your new found confidence urges you to go to him again, wanting to finally talk to him and get him alone.

“Why do you always insist on working on my car when I bring it over?” You ask, laughing when you approach JJ where he hunches under the hood of your truck. His eyes linger on your short shorts, rising to your exposed midriff from your crop top with a smile before looking up to you, one eye squinted in the sun.

“Because I can’t let you go to some sleezy mechanic who will cheat you outta money or try to get a lil something extra from my girl.” JJ lets his eyes fall back to your exposed thighs, licking his lips before finding your eyes again, “Especially since you look so fuckin’ good Princess.”

“The only mechanic I’d give somethin’ extra to as payment is you Jay.” You laugh, eyeing his greasy fingers as they work on your car with a content sigh at the view of your sweaty, greasy best friend.

“Oh really?” He asks, a teasing glint in his eyes when they meet yours “Well y’see this right here?” JJ says as he points out a suspicious looking piece of metal under the hood of your car, knowing full well you have no clue what’s wrong with it, “That would cost a lot to fix if you weren’t so beautiful Mama.” JJ says with a dramatic hiss, smiling to you as you immediately pick up on what he was doing.

“Oh no,” You exaggerate false worry into your tone, putting a hand in your back pocket and leaning forward to push your chest towards his eyeline, “but I don’t have any money Sir.”

“I’m sure we can work something out.” He laughs, pushing off your car to wipe at his fingers with a rag too coated in grease to really clean anything. His eyes find yours, excitement pooling behind them as they dilate before raking over you again. JJ steps closer to you slowly, dropping his rag as his now free hand reaches for your wrist and in a flash he’s tugging you into him as his other habs grips your waist possessively.

His lips meet yours, exploring your mouth instantly as he walks you backwards, knocking your back into the door of your truck. JJ tangles his fingers in yours, not caring as he smears grease across your waste and hand. Smiling into your mouth when he realizes you don’t care either. Drifting your free hand up his arm and smearing grease over his bicep as he cages you in front of him, tongue forcing it’s way past your lips immediately, making him groan at your taste.

He rakes his hand from yours down your arm, ghosting his fingertips against your skin and leaving dirty lines as they go. Gripping your waist on both sides to leave prints behind JJ marks you as he steps back to look at you, inhaling deeply at the sight of you dirtied just for him. You whine at the loss of him, tugging him back to you and smashing your lips into his and letting your tongue take over in his moment of shock.

“Do you wanna go inside?” JJ asks tugging himself off you, his lips still ghosting against yours as his hands pull at the loops of your shorts. Eyes falling for a second to take in the markings of grease across your skin, biting his lip and letting his eyes find yours again.

“Yes, but we need to clean up first.” You sigh, “You left handprints all over one of my favorite pairs of shorts Jay.” You huff, slipping your way out of his arms, knowing he would follow you as you make your way into the Chateau.

“I didn’t hear you complaining a second ago when you were practically melting in these filthy hands Gorgeous.” He counters, biting at his bottom lip when your eyes meet his again. You know if you had told him to stop he would have but something about being marked up by your working man sent tingles across your skin.

“You are genuinely so lucky this isn’t one of my good shirts JJ,” You say, tugging your shirt forward in order to stare down at the smudges of grease on your crop top, exasperated tone showing your annoyance despite your happiness at being alone with him again, “I would be throwing a fit if I wore my cropped white tank top.”

“Oh Baby me too, I fuckin’ love that shirt,” He wolf whistles as he follows you towards the small bathroom at the end of the hall, “Your nipples always poke out of it since you don’t wear a bra, gives Papa Jay a great view when the AC works.” He laughs, making little pinching motions with his fingers as he speaks, watching your back when you slip your ruined shirt off over your head to toss it out.

You fake gasp at his words, acting as though you didn’t do it on purpose just for him, “You perv,” you giggle turning to him with your hands on your hips, chest on full display for the first time as his jaw drops.

“Holy shit, can I touch em?” JJ practically begs, wetting his lips as his eyes bounce between your eyes and your chest. Without answering him, you turn away quickly, walking the rest of the way into the bathroom with JJ hot on your heels. You shriek a little when he smacks your ass, gripping the flesh tightly and leaving an almost perfect handprint of grease directly over the pocket of your shorts.

“I’mma hang these up as decor.” He hisses, gripping your hips tightly and leaning back to observe his handy work. “Look so fuckin’ hot all dirty for me, my innocent little girl gettin’ all messy just for me.” JJ states as he starts to enter the bathroom behind you, making you laugh to yourself as you attempt to shut the door. His foot quickly blocks it from shutting, his hand pushing on it as he laughs to you.

“Sorry, did you wanna shower first?” You ask teasingly when JJ pushes his way past the closing door. His eyes glint with happiness at your closeness in the small bathroom, turning to close and lock the door behind him quickly. His eyes rake over you, hunger raging behind them at the sight of your teasing smile, the pop of your hip, the rise and fall of your exposed chest. And he just can’t stop himself.

“We’ll save water if we do it together,” JJ says, jumping forward to kiss you, shoving you backwards by a strong grip on your waist, not caring if he leaves you entirely covered in filthy handprints. Gripping the hem of your shorts and tugging them down your thighs as he stares JJ contemplates a second before smearing a handprint across your thigh. Clearly not satisfied JJ drags his hand up his dirtied arms, smudging the grease further and collecting more before smacking it onto your thigh again. “Stay just like that for a second.” JJ orders as he tugs his phone out of his pocket, snapping a few quick pictures of his fist, filthy and gripping at your thigh before tossing it down onto the counter loudly.

“Now I get to help clean you up.” He sighs, gently shoving you backwards towards the shower and letting you step in before tugging his clothes off and following you in. “I have imagined this too many times Baby, you are literally helping make my fantasies a reality right now.”

“Lemme guess, you soiled me on purpose?” You fill your voice with a sultry tone, emphasizing your words with a flick of your tongue in his direction. “You wanted to clean me up after hm?” Turning around with a smile, letting JJ get an eyes full of your naked body. Listening as his breath catches at your question, his eyes following the way you bend down to turn on the water, letting it start to cascade down your back, taking some of the gease with it and painting down your legs, giving him a veiw of a lifetime.

JJ slotted himself behind you, placing a hand on your tailbone, snaking the other to your chest and tugging you up to him. Your back snug against his chest as he breaths in your ear, his fingers dig into your flesh as he controls himself.

“What do you want from me?” JJ breaths against your ear, his hands running up and down your waist, snaking around and playing in the darkening soapy water swirling off your body. Watching as it pools below you, swirling and working it’s way down the drain.

“What do you mean Jay?” Your voice comes out breathless, your heart banging against your ribcage, focusing on the water to control the shivers running over your body despite the steam rising around you.

“You’re fuckin’ perfect y’know that? I would give you anything you wanted,” His hands still for a second before spinning you around in front of him, steading you quickly as you gasp, “I just need to know what that is.” His voice comes out desperate, his eyes fighting the urge to drop down your body. “I want to be honest with you and that means telling you how much I want you, because I want so much more than sex.” Dirtied water slips down his chest and through his chiseled abs as your eyes follow it, giving yourself time to respond as you take a deep breath.

“I want more too, I’ve always wanted you as more than a friend, I thought it was obvious Jay.” His bright, excited eyes meet yours as a smile spreads across his face. He stares at for what feels like forever before his mouth is attacking yours again. Your back hits the cold shower wall as his hands explore your body freely.

“Tell me how you want me,” JJ whispers, “Please I want ta hear it, need to.” He groans, his head dropping to nip at the skin on your neck.

“I want you with me, even during all the bad moments, with or without the gold I just want you,” You smile as he stares down at you, the water from the showers dancing down your face as he tries to comprehend everything he’s feeling, “I want every version of you, I wanna celebrate with you and I wanna be there to help you when you crash out.”

“You already do that Baby.” He laughs, tugging you into him, his forehead resting on your shoulder as he sighs taking a second to inhale your scent before pulling back to look you in the eye, “I’m in love with you, you know?”

“I love you Jay.” You whisper, your words heavy as you watch his eyes watch yours. His smile only grows as you continue, “I think I always have.”

“That is so good to hear,” He groans, smasing his lips into yours, his hands run up your wet back tugging you off the wall, settling you both directly under the flow of the shower head. His mouth explores yours, water mingling in your mouths with each others spit before he’s pulling off you again. JJ’s hand falls to his body wash, wasting no time in popping the cap off to squirt it across your chest, “You’re gonna smell like me Gorgeous, everyone will know who you’re with.”

His calloused hands spread accross your chest, the bodywash becoming sudsy as JJ plays with your boobs, “Are you havin’ fun Jay?” You giggle, watching his look of pure adoration grow, spreading soap over your upper body.

“I am gonna be imagining this for a long time.” JJ whispers, squeezing at your boobs as you watch him with a smile.

“You didn’t even get them dirty Jay,” You state as you grab his body wash, laughing as you force him hands off of you and start to actually clean his filthy forearms, “Turn around.” JJ immediately listens, turning and showing you his muscular back as he flexes to show off.

“You know you have an amazing back,” you sigh, lathering him with soap as he cleans his front to save time, “I always watch it when you surf.”

“I know you do,” He laughs, breath hitching when your hands run down his lower back, snaking around and feeling his hard abs under your fingertips, “I show off for you a lot.”

“Really?” Your giddy tone has him turning around in your arms, letting your hans rest just above his ass, “Just for me?”

“I’ve spent years wanting you to watch me like all the other girls on this island do, of course I noticed when you did. If I thought it meant you felt the same I would have asked you out sooner.” JJ ghosts his hand across your hips and up your body, lingering on your chest for a second longer before moving up, gripping at your chin in both his hands as he stares into your eyes.

“Can I take you out somewhere tomorrow night?” You laugh at the desperate tone in his voice, shaking your head as your hands run up to lock behind his neck.

“I think we both already know the answer to the question Jay.”

“I wanna hear you say it though.” He begs, eyes bouncing between yours watching for any hint of deception, not entirely certain you felt what he wanted you to.

“Yes JJ, you may take me out on a date.” You whisper against his ear, tugging it into your teeth before continuing, “Do I need to wait until then for you to fuck me?”

“Nope, whenever you want it I can give it to ya’” You continue cleaning yourselves, letting his scent cover you as you help eachother wash your hair. You can feel the anticipation seeping through you as JJ turns the water off, stepping out before you and reaching back for your hand.

“I didn’t bring a change of clothes,” You realize, looking to the door and back to your naked bodies.

“I’d just be taking them off of you anyway,” He jokes, “I’ll give you some of mine and when were done I’ll put yours in the wash.” JJ’s voice stays calm despite the excitement coursing through him as he drapes his towel around you, wrapping you up like a present before opening the door to the bathroom. The house was empty but he knew you wouldn’t want to walk the short distance to his bedroom exposed so he blocks your towel-clad body with his own as he directs you into his bedroom. Immediately JJ turns, shutting and locking the doors behind him as you stand, wrapped in his towel before him.

He approaches you slowly, his hands immediately falling to tug the towel open admiring you like a piece of art, “I want you to lay down for me.” He says, excitement laced in his voice, trying to control himself as his eyes rake across you as of it was the very first time.

“Why don’t you make me?” Your teasing smile makes him laugh, poking his tongue into his cheek as he watches you. In a flash his hands shove the towel over your shoulders tossing it aside before shoving at your waist and pushing you both onto the bed behind you.

“I’m gonna finger you first okay? Get you ready f’me,” JJ nods as he speaks, making sure you’re following him, “You okay with that?”

“Of course Jay, I trust you.” Your legs spread subconsciously for him as he leans over you. JJ ghosts his fingertips across your thigh as he slowly moves closer to where you want him. His calloused fingers twitching in excitement as they reach your wet slit.

“Fuck you might not even need to be stretched out first you’re so fuckin’ wet,” He groaned, immediately slipping his middle finger into you with a sigh. The moan you release as he expertly maneuvers his finger sends a smile spreading across his face as he stares down at your face, “Is that good Baby?”

“Yes, yes do it again.” You gasp, your hand running up his muscular bicep beside you as he quickly moves to shove a second finger inside of you, watching your expression for any sign of discomfort as he slowly pulls them out of you. Watching your face with a smile as he slowly enters your again, happy to give you what you want.

His fingers thrust into you as your back arches against his bed at the new sensation. JJ feels as your juices slip around him, your arousal doubling as you prepare to take him in. His thumb plays with your clit as his fingers work inside of you, feeling your cervix as he caresses his fingers against your walls. He pushes himself up, leaving you feeling empty as he lines himself up with you almost impatiently before speaking, “Do you want me to wear a condom? I have some if you-“

“Would it be weird if I said no,” You interrupt, letting your nails dig into his shoulders as he stares at you with wide eyes, “I wanna feel it when you cum.”

“Jesus fuck that’s like the hottest thing you have ever said,” JJ hisses out as he presses his tip past your folds, groaning at the contact as he slides it through, coating himself in your juices. “I’ve never raw dogged anyone before,” His voice was breathless, talking through the tingles cascading down his spine at the thought of you being a first of his too, “I can’t promise I’ll last long when you’re all laid out for me and ready to please.”

“Don’t worry, we are doing this again.” Your voice comes out breathy and demanding as his tip slowly enters you.

“Fuck I love when you’re all bossy.” JJ sighs, breathing heavily as he holds himself above you by his forearm. JJ watches your face intently, slowing as he takes in the grimace on your face while you stretch around him. “You okay?” He whispers, the sound of his voice so close and soft that it may as well of been inside your own head.

“Yes, just keep going please.” You beg, your eyes meeting JJ’s as he bottoms out inside of you. Your jaw hangs open with a silent moan, the look in your best friends eyes as though he’s physically holding himself back makes it feel as though you’ll burst open any second. Heat rises up your chest and across your face at the squeaky sound of your own throat. The giggle JJ releases above you as his hand not supporting his weight caresses your cheek with a smile calms you. The feeling washing over you as JJ slowly removes himself from you, resting just the tip inside of you before entering you again slightly faster.

JJ holds back a moan as you suck him in deeper and deeper, the feeling of your walls tightening around him driving him crazy as he tries to hear every little sound you make rather than his own. The feeling of your nails digging into his side as he sets a slow pace makes him stutter inside of you, his tip twitching when his eyes meet yours. Yours pupils were blown wide, your mouth open as you moan his name like music serenading him, “Fuck.”

He mumbles, his teeth digging into his bottom lip as his dick pulsates inside of you. Your juices covering him, the feeling of your thighs locking around him and the sound of your pleasure start to send him overboard. “Fuck fuck fuck, I need to make you…cum before me.”

You laugh below him, a moan mixed with humor as your lip gets caught in your teeth, “No you don’t, your hands run against the muscles of his back, scratching him softly as you lean up to whisper in his ear. “I want you to cum inside of me Jay,” His pace quickens, his hips stuttering as he grunts, babbling slightly as he tries to stop himself, “right now.” Your lips graze his ear as you speak, a shiver running down his spine as he releases inside of you. Moaning loudly into your hair as his hands subconsciously grip your waist, tugging you impossibly closer, remaining connected as hot strips of his cum fill you.

The feeling makes you sigh below him, feeling marked and respected at the same time. JJ’s head shoots up as he comes out of his haze of pleasure, his eyes meeting your with an almost angry hunger. “I wanted to make you come.”

“Nothing’s stopping us from going again and again and again every chance we have Jay. You did exactly what I wanted.” You say with a teasing smile, JJ pulls back from you, eyes wide as he watches his cum seep out of you from around his dick.

“Fuck this is the hottest thing I have ever seen,” His eyes dart all over you, feeling complete yet somehow wanting more of everything you have to offer him. “You can always come to Papa Jay to get filled up Baby.”

——

Please point out any errors ❤️

Some blogs who wanted tagged wouldn’t let me so i am sorry

@ifilwtmfc @weeeoosworld @just-here-for-the-fanfictions @queennvane64 @maybankslover

[writer-logbook]

How to improve your writing style : a 5-steps guide.

Intro : I love the 5-steps format, don’t mind me. Again, this essay is based on my personal experience.

Read in different genres. Ok, I know you’ve probably heard this advice more than you can count but did you ask yourself why it is so important ? You probably wonder ‘‘How reading some historical fiction will help me writing my sci-fi novel ?’’ For that simple reason my friend : they meet different purposes. You don’t know how to describe a castle ? It’s okay, historical fiction got your back. Because it aims at something more realistic and accurate, it would tend to be more specific and detailed when it comes to describing clothes, furniture, places and so on. Why ? Because, most of the time, THEY ACTUALLY EXISTED. Take a closer look at how it is done and draw your inspiration from it (but please avoid plagiarism it’s bad - and illegal)

Take notes and CLASSIFY them. To make reading somehow useful, you have to actually make it concious, which means you have to write things down to remember them. When I come across a description I like, I tend to takes notes of the figures of speech that are used and class them, so when I have to write a similar scene, I have an idea of what have been already used, and weither or not it achieved its goal. I am NOT talking about COPY another author’s style !!!! It’s about finding inspiration and new approaches. I also tend to take notes of the new words I wish to incoporate into my writing. The thesaurus is my new bestie.

Rewrite the same scene from different POVs. First of all, it’s fun. And it’s a really good way to spot quirky formulations. For instance, if you describe a ship, the captain’s POV should be different from that of a simple observer. The first one would be naming each part princisely whereas the other would only be admiring the surface without knowing anything. If the caption is the same for both POVs, maybe you should consider write your passage again (or have a good reason, like a strong amateurism for the mere observer). It’s go hand in hand with coherence - but it would be an essay for another time (maybe).

Read your text aloud. I put major emphasis on that one because it’s as underated as reading books for various genres. You have no idea how much we DON’T speak the way we write. Even dialogues are crafted in our stories - so make sure to give them proper attention. (i even read my email aloud but-). I KNOW how cringey it might be as I am doing it MYSELF but the benefits are worth the 35-minutes shame I endure from my own mess. Before you can shine, you have to polish (shout out to the one who said that first if it’s not me).

Take a step back. I strongly advice you to let some time pass before reading your text again and profreading it. It will cast a new light upon your work and with fresh eyes you’d be more likely able to spot what needs to be erased or rephrased.

That’s all for me today. Since I would be entering my proofreading phase for my writing contest, the next essay would probably about proofreading (with examples from my own novel ?). Unless someone wants me to write on a specific subject first.

Gentle reminder that I’m still French and not a native so please forgive my dubious grammar and outrageous mispellings.

[kathaelipwse]

GOT7 | Headcanons

Theme: Members As Friends And Lovers

Requested by: @canigotosleep--plz

Warnings: Fluff and just fluff, Neutral gender!reader, my personal opinions!!!

Word Count: 1.0k

Mark Tuan

❀ As a Friend:

The type to listen quietly and then drop the most insightful advice.

Will send you a simple "You good?" text instead of asking too many questions.

Always down for a spontaneous road trip or late-night drive in silence.

The one who remembers your favorite food and orders it for you before you ask.

Rarely starts conversations but always responds when you need him.

❤️ As a Lover:

Love Language: Acts of Service & Quality Time.

Prefers subtle physical affection—hand-holding, thigh touches while driving, and soft back hugs.

He’s not the type for over-the-top gestures, but he makes sure you know he loves you through actions.

Might not say "I love you" often, but his eyes show it every time he looks at you.

Loves watching you when you’re not paying attention—he thinks you're the most beautiful when you're just being yourself.

The kind of boyfriend who lets you nap on his chest and absentmindedly plays with your hair.

Lim Jae-beom

❀ As a Friend:

Looks out for you like a protective older brother.

Roasts you all the time but will fight anyone who actually upsets you.

Is the first one to notice if you’re stressed and forces you to take a break.

Would drive you home at 3 AM just to make sure you’re safe.

If he says he’ll be there for you, he means it—he’s as loyal as they come.

❤️ As a Lover:

Love Language: Physical Touch & Words of Affirmation.

Super touchy but in a non-obvious way—lingering hand touches, resting his hand on your thigh, or pulling you close when walking.

Lowkey enjoys cuddling but won’t admit it—he just “accidentally” falls asleep with you in his arms.

He might act cool, but he’s obsessed with kissing you, especially slow, deep kisses.

If he’s jealous, he won’t say anything—he’ll just pull you closer and make sure everyone knows you’re his.

Finds excuses to touch you, like fixing your hair or tracing small circles on your back when sitting together.

Jackson Wang

❀ As a Friend:

The ultimate hype man—your biggest cheerleader in life.

Insists on FaceTiming you instead of texting.

If you're sad, he’ll take you out for a fun adventure to cheer you up.

Will introduce you to every single person he knows and brag about how amazing you are.

Gets over-the-top dramatic about everything just to make you laugh.

❤️ As a Lover:

Love Language: Physical Touch & Quality Time.

Super affectionate—hugs, kisses, and hand-holding all the time.

He has zero shame about PDA—if he loves you, the world should know.

Loves lifting you off the ground when he hugs you.

Needs constant physical closeness—he’ll drape himself over you from behind like a human koala.

If you’re apart for too long, expect a dramatic “I missed you so much!!” the moment he sees you again.

Park Jin-young

❀ As a Friend:

The mom friend—he always makes sure you're making smart decisions.

Likes intellectual conversations and debating random topics for fun.

Pretends to be serious but actually has the best sense of humor.

He'll send you book recommendations and expect you to discuss them with him.

If you have a problem, he’ll help you solve it logically but with a side of sarcasm.

❤️ As a Lover:

Love Language: Words of Affirmation & Quality Time.

Prefers small, meaningful touches—a hand squeeze, brushing your hair away, or a soft kiss before leaving.

He’s not the type for over-the-top PDA, but in private, he’s incredibly soft and loving.

Loves slow, deep kisses that last longer than expected.

Would rather whisper sweet things in your ear than say them out loud in front of others.

Writes you letters when he’s feeling sentimental but acts like it’s “not a big deal.”

Choi Young-jae

❀ As a Friend:

A literal ray of sunshine—his energy is contagious.

Always sending you memes and dog photos to brighten your day.

Will drop whatever he's doing if you need help.

If you're sad, he’ll hug you until you feel better (and maybe write a song about it).

The most genuinely happy for your successes.

❤️ As a Lover:

Love Language: Physical Touch & Words of Affirmation.

Loves cuddling—he could stay in bed all day just snuggled up with you.

Will randomly grab your hand and swing it back and forth while walking.

Likes to playfully boop your nose or poke your cheeks just to make you laugh.

Gets shy when expressing feelings but his touch says it all—soft, lingering, and full of love.

The type to hug you from behind while you’re doing something and just stay there for a while.

BamBam

❀ As a Friend:

Your fashion guru—always wants to go shopping with you.

Loves taking aesthetic photos of you for Instagram.

Teases you all the time, but if someone else does, he gets defensive real quick.

Randomly calls you just to gossip and catch up.

Will buy you a ridiculous gift “just because it reminded me of you.”

❤️ As a Lover:

Love Language: Gift Giving & Physical Touch.

Always flirting—he loves seeing you blush.

Loves PDA but in a playful way—wants to make others jealous of how cute you two are.

Randomly grabs your face and kisses you just because he can.

Buys you expensive gifts but acts like it’s “no big deal.”

If you’re feeling down, expect a shopping trip and a fancy dinner date to lift your mood.

Kim Yugyeom

❀ As a Friend:

The gentle giant—sweet but surprisingly mischievous.

Always down for a random dance battle.

Loves sending you weird, funny TikToks at 2 AM.

The friend who carries your bags without you asking.

If you need a hug, he's got you covered—big, warm, comforting bear hugs.

❤️ As a Lover:

Love Language: Physical Touch & Quality Time.

Loves touching you absentmindedly—playing with your fingers, resting his head on your shoulder, or leaning against you.

Slow kisses are his thing—deep, meaningful, and just enough to make your heart race.

Likes to wrap his arms around you from behind and sway gently.

If he’s lying down, expect him to pull you into his chest for cuddles without asking.

Prefers spending time together over texting—even if you’re just sitting in comfortable silence.

[onsomenewsht]

I've got peace and I've got love

About a surprise for your birthday even if you hate your birthday

》 Alexia Putellas x Reader

》 words count: +1k

》 for anyone who needs to feel celebrated

Birthdays are a complicated matter.

You don’t hate them, no one really does.

People should be loved loudly, their mere presence on Earth should be reason enough to celebrate them.

You care about your family and your friends, baking cakes and inflating balloons and dressing up for a themed party are not a problem - you’re the first one to arrive and the last to leave.

Celebrating your birthday though? Hell, no.

For most, it doesn’t make sense.

A day in a whole year when anyone is entitled to be under the biggest spotlight, getting gifts and all the wanted attention. Yet, you’d rather hide in the remotest corner of the planet than hear someone sing “happy birthday” to you.

Despite the insistence and the repeated attempts over the years, your mother has finally accepted that you don’t want to make a big deal out of it. Your best friend has accepted that you’ll avoid a surprise party like the plague. Everyone who knows you, knows it.

Alexia included.

At least she knows now, after last year.

The two of you got together just shy of three months before your birthday. Bless her good heart, she thought a surprise ambush might be appreciated.

She’s not going to make the same mistake twice in a row, but she wants to do something.

“You told me she hates birthdays”, Alba points out, a bit confused, sipping her coffee as if her sister isn’t in the middle of an inconclusive rant.

“She hates her own, not birthdays in general”

“I still think you should just buy her a nice present, wish her a happy birthday and move on like she asked you to do”

“It seems so, I don’t know, incomplete?”, the blonde tries to explain, “How do I make sure I show how much I appreciate her if I can’t celebrate her?”

“You better celebrate her every day, not just on the birthday–”

“I do it, idiot!”

Alexia is quick in her jab, but thankfully the younger girl is used to her attitude by now.

Cup saved from any spill, Alba barely has enough patience to give another, simple pearl of wisdom, “So do it like any other day, but, you know, on her birthday”

It’s good advice, even if she’d never admit it.

Alexia spends most of her day off plotting, her free time during the week before your birthday completely taken over by careful planning and prep.

You can tell immediately that something is off, but you let it slide because she’s cute when she’s on a mission, and you don’t really want to spoil her fun.

At the stroke of midnight, like a mischievous fairy godmother, your best friend calls you to sing a personalized rendition of “Die, Die My Darling” like every year since you’re sixteen and think you’re oh-so-funny.

Your mother sends a present from the entire family, along with a picture of a cake you’re not going to eat but you’re glad they’ll enjoy in your name. Alexia’s mother and sister send flowers, and you have to reassure your girlfriend that it’s a genuinely appreciated sentiment.

Said girlfriend kisses you for every year spent on this Earth and then moves on, as if nothing happened. As if nothing is going to happen.

It’s suspicious, really suspicious.

The day passes by without any major incident.

At work just a few colleagues know it’s your birthday, they politely hand you a card with bad jokes written all over it. You mindlessly send the same three reactions at every text message, nonetheless appreciating everyone who remembered and took the time to wish you a happy birthday. A kind waitress adds a slice of dessert as you pick up take-out at your favourite Mexican place, probably prompted by Alexia when she ordered over the phone and sent you to the restaurant.

Guard down, you open the door to your girlfriend’s apartment, still not connecting the dots.

Thank the goddesses and gods above for that nice waitress, because what you find inside is definitely a first and the food wouldn’t have survived the surprise if not for the well-secured package.

Soft music - that, to your shame, you only realise too late is your favorite record - resonates through the room, which is filled with dozens of floating balloons reaching the ceiling.

You take a few tentative steps inside, noticing pictures carefully tied to each string with numbers scribbled on the corners.

Snaps of the past year, memories so simple in their significance you sometimes fail to give a good measure of. Dinners out with friends, an unflattering portrait of an early morning during the summer, the first time holding your niece. You linger over a photo of you and Alexia talking on Mapi’s couch, neither of you looking at the camera, as it’s clear you had eyes only for each other.

“I’ve never seen this one”, you whisper, emotion thick in your voice.

Your girlfriend is leaning on the further wall of the entrance, a confident stance failing to hide a note of nervousness. The way her hands are buried in the pocket of old sweatpants and her eyes are studying every single macro-expression shifting on your face are a clear tell for you.

"Ingrid sent it to me some times ago”

“It’s beautiful”

“It is”, she agrees easily, still not daring to come closer.

Alexia’s gaze drops as soon as you notice there’s a handwritten message on the back of every photo, her cheeks flushing slightly.

You take the time to read each one attentively, smiling at her thoughtfulness and the care she put into all the moments chosen. People and occasions that hold meaning for you, no matter how big or small. You feel love in every single one.

“You put a lot of thought into this”

“I had to sacrifice a couple of good ones”, she mumbles, almost upset with herself.

The commitment to matching the number of pictures to your age it’s impressive, you have to admit.

A burst of laughter fills the entire apartment, Alexia finally meeting your gaze and taking in how moved you’re by her surprise.

The fear of overstepping had been like an annoying voice, whispering in her ear as she scribbled on the back of the photos or tried to wrap gifts without running out of patience or tape.

“Do you like it?”, her doubt creeping in her voice.

“I don’t hate it”, you joke, still eager to ease her worries, “No one has ever put this much thought or effort into– I don’t know, celebrating my birthday, I guess”

“You deserve to be celebrated”

You take the few steps to fill the gap between you two, food forgotten somewhere behind, and throw yourself into her already open arms.

“Thank you”

“I love you”

The kiss you share is a clear enough answer. Sometimes, it’s not even necessary to spell it out - action speaks louder than words, they say. She holds you for as long as you need, music still playing softly in the background.

“Is this a good moment to mention that you have to open as many presents as you have in years?”

“Alexia!”

[gothhabiba]

@ anon

I think it might be actually dangerous to publish your ask, but I'm sure from my response people will be able to tell what it's about anyway.

You're full of actual, absolute shit if you're pretending not to know by now that verification processes to ensure the legitimacy of Ghazzawin's fundraisers have been undertaken, and that details about what these processes entail have been shared by several people. Several people, some of them currently in Gaza, put themselves through countless hours of work video-calling people, judging their knowledge of dialectical Arabic, seeing their faces and their children's faces and their living conditions, seeing IDs and bank information, asking invasive, personal questions that they didn't want to be asking & that the people responding probably didn't want to be answering, and physically visiting people in Gaza and video-recording their interactions, just so that people like you could be sure that these fundraisers were legitimate. If you're ignoring all of the blood & tears that went into that process just so you can hand-wring about scams, no one needs to be concerned with convincing you of the legitimacy of anything, because you were never going to donate to these people anyway. You are just looking for any plausible-sounding excuse not to do what you already didn't want to do.

If, by some miracle, you actually didn't know about the verified fundraiser spreadsheet (which is frankly still blameable bc, where on earth have you been?), then there it is. The post of mine that you're referring to never even mentioned responding to asks; using this spreadsheet is an absolutely valid, reasonable way of donating directly to families.

Now let me treat some of your statements as though they were questions (which, they were not).

How do people in Gaza have internet access?

Internet infrastructure in Gaza is very robust (e.g. in what cables are made of, how deep they're buried, amounts of redundancy in the system, &c.) because they have been getting bombed by Israel all the fucking time for decades, so they expect this infrastructure to be put through a lot. There have still--if you've been following the situation at all--been several outages caused by damage that Ghazzawin have needed to repair. Though I do have to say that I find it odd that you doubt Ghazzawin have internet access, but also say that you buy eSims...?

A lot of people right now are indeed connected via eSim, which to my understanding only need to connect to wifi once, right when they're activated. People put themselves at risk to connect to eSims because they need to get a good wifi signal, which usually means walking for several miles trying to find high ground. One of my contacts once urgently called me (this is the only time he hadn't just texted) because he had been told his friend had found a signal and so they needed an eSim right then, before they went back to their tent.

I've been trying for some time to connect another of my contacts in Gaza to an eSim, but we're not having success. At Crips for eSims for Gaza they / we (I'm on the server getting advice and helping out but I'm not using their funding; I'm using what people on tumblr have given me to purchase eSims with) keep a constantly updated sheet of which eSim providers use which networks and which networks work in which areas--because the situation is constantly changing. Because my contact doesn't have an eSim on a personal phone, she has to go to a central location to be allotted three hours of internet access from someone who has managed to get connected. Lots of people, on their fundraising posts and pages, specify exactly how they've gotten internet access, how difficult it's been for them to get it, and how stressful it is to be relying on this tenuous connection, spending hours away from their families (at high risk of being shot at by IOF soldiers the whole time), just to message people for hours straight and then go home again.

2. How do people in Gaza have tumblr accounts?

This is a stupid question. Anyone with an email address who is capable of picking a username and password can make a tumblr account. I have personally helped several of my contacts in Gaza with the process.

3. How do people in Gaza know to come into people's tumblr accounts?

This is also a stupid question. I don't really see how you could ask this question if you saw Palestinians as, like, real humans beings. You understand that people talk to each other, yes? Like with words? As soon as a few people had success fundraising to evacuate Gaza on tumblr (nearly a year ago... this news has had a lot of time to spread), obviously they told other people about it.

One of the ways that Israel conducts its genocidal war is through the destructiveness of frustration and boredom. It's a strange situation because everything is extremely dire, urgent, terrifying, and dirty, but there's also seldom anything to do. People are singing, telling stories, going to the beach, inventing games and contests, to entertain children, but also to entertain themselves. And this is the situation--with a bunch of desperate, bored people packed into a tiny piece of land--this is the situation that you think it's impossible for people to talk to each other in? Come on.

If you want to donate to Anera and World Food Kitchen and buy eSims, that's fantastic. Please do that. But if you are as ignorant of the particulars of what this situation is like as your ask makes you appear, then I hope you refrain from speaking on what the situation is like.

I've been nattering on for a long time so here's my call to action:

Decide what you're capable of giving right now, or the next time you get paid

Scroll down on the vetted fundraiser spreadsheet and find someone very low on funds, or with injured children who urgently need treatment or evacuation, and give that money.

AND / OR give it to the PCRF or the IRW

[writersdrug]

The Good Friend

Chapter 1. A New Hobby

Summary: Johnny regularly checks up on Ghost after he sustained a bullet to the hip on their most recent deployment. It's already too late for him to escape, once he sees what's kept his beloved lieutenant so occupied over the past few days.

Warnings: DEAD DOVE: DO NOT EAT, kidnapping, implied violence, restraining, psychotic behavior, blood, forced to help in kidnapping, obsessive behavior. DO NOT READ IF YOU ARE SENSITIVE TO THESE TOPICS. By clicking "Keep Reading" you are consenting to be responsible for the media you consume.

A/N: The people have spoken

Simon on medical leave: a disaster and a headache for the rest of the 141.

There's a daily text along the lines of "Let me know when we get shipped out next." It never mattered how many times Price responded with "You're not joining us for a while. Find a hobby, Simon." He was persistent in coming back to work as soon as possible - shattered hip be damned.

Price had given Soap the job of checking up on the poor brute. "Maybe he misses the usual company." He'd say. "Go see 'im, check in with the muppet."

Soap was a good friend, but there was only so much grumbling he could stomach from Simon. Those "check-ins" would turn into a pity party, with Simon saying "I should be out there, helpin' you lot. Only wastin' away in 'ere. Losin' my head." And it was true - every time Johnny visited, there was an open can of beer on the coffee table, or a glass of whiskey in his hand. The bottle of prescription, opioid pain killers on the kitchen table. Some ill-advised coping mechanism within arm's reach.

It hurt Johnny to see it, it really did. He cared about Simon, missed him, would do anything to get his beloved L.T. back on the team. But he knew the man needed rest and recovery, despite how much it was sending Simon into a spiral. Johnny offered to help clean up his place, but Simon angrily denied the offer. "Don't need a bloody caretaker." He spat.

Just tryin' to be a good friend, Soap wanted to say, but instead he answered with a slam of Simon's front door and a hushed "feckin' bastard."

Johnny was tired of it. When the fuck was this medical leave supposed to end? Apparently, in two weeks ("thank the feckin' lord") -

But, Soap soon discovered, Simon had requested more time off.

Price stated he'd said something about "still not feeling right", which immediately had Soap confused. That old bawbag would've been back in the game the second the bullet was out of his hip, if it wasn't for regulations. It festered in the back of his mind all day: why would Simon do that? What could possibly hold his attention more than the task force? More than Johnny?

There was only one way to find out.

Soap stands in front of Simon's door, knocking loudly against the dark wood. An unexpected visit, which Simon might be frustrated by - but Soap is dying to see what's got his lieutenant so preoccupied. Hopefully, he hasn't fallen into a pit of depression, choosing to drink himself to death, rather than come back to the team.

However, after just a few moments of standing on his porch, Simon answers it rather quickly. And he looks happy. Delighted, even.

"'Bout time, Johnny." Simon says, stepping aside to let him in. "Was wondering if you got lost."

"Was wonderin' if you'd gone crazy." Soap banters back, kicking the door shut behind him. "Cap said ye want more time?"

Simon chuckled quietly, locking the deadbolt behind Soap. He shoves his hands - gloved hands - into his sweatshirt pocket. "Took his advice. Found a hobby."

"Lemme guess: knittin' me a Christmas sweater?"

"You fuckin' wish."

It's good. It makes Soap sigh with relief (internally), seeing Simon in such good spirits. He tosses the pack of blems onto the coffee table and follows Simon into the kitchen. The smell of rubbing alcohol hits him before he sees the counter; bandages, gauze, bloody gauze, hydrogen peroxide, and an open suture kit.

He stops in the doorway to the kitchen, his teeth bared in a wince. "Shite, Ghost- ye reopen tha' bullet wound?" he says, lifting up one of the bloodied pieces of gauze.

"Hm?" Simon turns to face him, then looks at what he's holding. "Oh- nah, I'm fine. Luvie here bumped her head."

Johnny looks up, confused, following Simon's back with his eyes as he makes his way into the dining room - his mind goes blank when he sees the poor, bloodied thing, tied to one of the chairs.

You're staring back at him, hair messed and blood dried against a nasty gash on your forehead. Fabric is stuffed into your mouth, with a strip of duct tape securing it around your head. Your eyes light up with hope as they take Johnny in; you're heaving, poor thing, breaths more like whines as you fight through the delirium of your concussion. Your right ankle is swollen and a nasty shade of purple. Blood all over the chair, your thighs, and now, Johnny finally notices, Simon's hands.

"Dinged 'erself pretty good on my bookcase." Simon says, too calmly, his broad frame standing behind the chair you're strapped into. "Slippery lil' thing, she is."

Simon rips the duct tape off - your voice immediately fills the room, echoing inside Soap's head with your begging and pleading, please please please get me out of here, please help me, he kidnapped me, he's a monster, please-

Johnny has to look away - there's too much noise, too much going on - his eyes trail down the dark hall and into Simon's bedroom. The bookshelf is toppled over, volumes strewn about the floor, a lamp shattered on the ground and casting an eerie angle of light through the room. He hears the sound of his own blood pumping, his chest and throat feel tight, mind racing a million miles a second. Did his LT do this? His Simon?

"Johnny."

He turns back to you. The duct tape is back in place, and now you're weakly thrashing about as much as you can - which really isn't much. Ghost is staring at Soap, one of his hands wrapped around your shoulder, knuckles white with how hard he's gripping you; which is most likely what's making you cry so much.

"Need ya to help stitch 'er up." Simon says, his eyes cold. It's an order. "'Fore she bleeds out on us."

Johnny feels like he's going to vomit. He needs to stop thinking, to stop shaking, and do something. His lieutenant's kidnapped a bloody civilian, for Christ's sake. Why? And what the fuck did he do to her?

"Won't let me touch 'er. Hard to stitch the wound when she's throwin' a fit - damn near stabbed 'er in the eye. I'll hold 'er while you do th' job."

Johnny finally inhales after holding his breath for so long. He stumbles backwards into the kitchen, remembering where the front door is, thinking he should have been in his car and on the phone with the police by now. If he does, though, Simon will be gone forever. Locked up in prison, far away from Soap. How can he save this? How can he save you, and him? "Simon, ye- ye can't be serious, mate-"

"If you walk out tha' fuckin' door I'll kill 'er before you reach it."

That ruffles your feathers. You're whimpering again, screaming against the gag - at him? At Ghost? He freezes where he stands, trying to remember his training. Act first, think later. Do what keeps the most people alive in the moment. That's what Simon had taught him. The same man who was threatening to kill you, ironically, based on what Soap decided to do.

"Get the sutures off the counter." Simon ordered, apparently sensing Soap's inner turmoil. He knows Johnny wouldn't leave you there, not after the threat.

He couldn't.

Soap exhaled heavily through his teeth, forcing his muscles to move. He snatched the suture kit off the counter and stormed back into the living room. He heard Ghost hum in approval as he slapped it down on the table.

"You do it." he said, his voice low and full with grit. "Ye stitch 'er up, I'll help ye take her to the hospital. We come back n' clean up-"

"Shut the fuck up-" Simon growled out to Soap, gripping your chin in his large hand and yanking your head back against his abdomen. "Get to work. Don't let 'er die on me, now."

Die. Die. You had a concussion and a headwound, but you weren't dying - still, he knew that wasn't what Ghost meant. If Soap didn't help, you would die, one way or another. He had to think of this differently, for the time being. He was helping you. He'd take this little by little - first, patch you up. Figure out what the fuck to do with you later; also, how to keep this from ruining Simon's career, because he couldn't leave the task force. Soap wouldn't let that happen.

So, he took the needle and sutures in his hand, and knelt on the floor, between your restrained legs. Ignored the way you screamed and thrashed, only held still by Ghost's meaty paws. Didn't focus on Ghost's satisfied grin. He was doing this to save your life, you'd understand that later. He was doing this to save Simon's career.

Like a good friend.

Next ->

Taglist: @a-sadmilky

Ghost photo credit to @chatskaja

[rafesslxt]

unknown number

pt. 1/2

SUMMARY: not only you are surprised when you get a drunk text from your brother that you should pick him up from a party - Topper's just as shocked as you are.

WARNINGS: Thornton!reader, brothers best friend trope, bickering, tension, quick deep talk with Topper

WORD COUNT: 1,7k

NOTE: english is not my first language | thank‘s to everyone for reading and supporting, comments and - are highly apprecaiated <3

🥥 🍋‍🟩 𓇼 ⋆｡˚ 𓆝⋆｡˚ 𓇼 🥭 🍍

Your body tried to make its way through the sweaty crowd dancing and drinking around you, the air thick with the scent of weed and expensive perfume. This wasn't on your agenda for tonight, getting your drunk brother out of a party, that's for sure.

"Hey sis, can u get me? I'm drunk as hell."

You weren't surprised, though. After Sarah had ditched him for John B, which was more than understandable for you but hey – Topper never wanted to listen to your advice, he seemed to try drowning the pain and hurt ego away by drinking and smoking.

The house you currently were in was familiar to you. Since Sarah's your best friend you spend a lot of time here but never during these party's, cause most of the time Rafe was the host and well - let's just say you tried to avoid any chance of being in a room with him together.

Because besides the hatred for their sister's trying to live the pogue life, Topper and Rafe had one thing more in common. They fell for the sister of their best friend. The only problem was, that Rafe never acted on his feeling. While Topper may be a complete idiot, he at least showed Sarah some kind of feelings, trying to wrap her around his fingers. But for Rafe? Bickering and hating was his way.

But Rafe apparently had a new way of drawing you into his space.

"Hey, did you see Topper?" You asked a guy which's name you could never remember no matter how often your brother tried to tell you. You just knew he often hang with them together. "No, sorry. Ask Rafe, he was with him a while ago." You instantly rolled your eyes but smiled at him and nodded in a way that was supposed to tell him 'thank you'.

You made your way further through the people until you reached the living room where you saw Rafe sitting on the couch, talking to two girls on either side of him.

Not bothering that you may interrupted something, you walked up behind him, not even caring enough to wait until he might realize you were standing behind him. "Have you seen my brother? He told me to come pick him up."

You looked down at his head which bend until it laid against the backrest, his pretty blue eyes meeting yours. Pretty ? No, you meant blue. Just blue.

"Oh If it isn't the princess of the Pogues, gracing us with her presence this night.", his voice dripped with sarcasm. "And to what do we owe this unexpected visit?" You rolled your eyes at his irritating words and crossed your arms in front of your chest. "Did you see Topper, Rafe?", you repeated.

His smile widened before he sat upright again, took a beer that was probably his from the desk, turned around and locked eyes with you again, walking around the couch towards you.

"Someone's in a grumpy mood today." he remarked, taking a sip of his beer. "Rafe If you don't-" "No need to be so uptight princess. The party just stared." You scoffed. "Well, apparently not If my brother's texting me to come pick his drunk ass up."

"Give him some time, he's trying to heal from a heartbreak. I mean I told him my sister is never hanging around for long but- well you know him. Had to try for himself."

You were slowly getting tired of the conversation and Rafe seemed to notice. "And as for where your brother is; I saw him with Kelce in the kitchen a few minutes ago. Just before you arrived, I think."

Without giving him a second more of your time, you turned around, walking towards the kitchen. Why didn't he just tell you 'Hey, Topper is in the kitchen.' ? Why does he always have to bicker with you and beat around the bush. Ugh.

Sarah always said he liked you but before Rafe Cameron actually had serious feelings for you or even anyone, hell would freeze over.

You walked into the kitchen of the Cameron's, immediately spotting your brother and Kelce, laughing loudly between some shots they were taking.

"Wow. You're really setting the bar lower and lower." You scoffed, making their heads turn towards you. "Y/n? What are you doing here? Aren't you with your little friends?" "Oh, hey pipsqueak." Kelce chuckled from behind Topper, waving at you with a drunken grin.

"Come on Topper, I don't have all night." I sighed, already about to leave the kitchen when he looked at me as If I had torn apart his favorite teddy bear apart that he hid under his bed whenever someone came over. "What the hell are you talking about?" "What the hell do you mean what the hell I'm talking about? You texted me to come pick you up because you're too drunk."

Just as he was about to answer, Rafe entered the kitchen and stood beside you. "Topper, why don't you listen to your sister and go with her, you've had enough for tonight."

Feeling betrayed, Topper was too stunned to speak, looking at Kelce for some backup. "Hey man don't get me into this." he replied to his look, throwing up his hands and spilling some of the liquid that was inside his shot glass.

"I didn't text you!" he exclaimed, reached into his pocket and searching for his phone. "Shit.. can't find it." You rolled your eyes, your patience slowly but clearly wearing off. "Topper.." "I swear I didn't!", he swore while continuing to search the insides of his few pockets. "Damn no really, where is it?", he asked himself.

"Come on man." Kelce chuckled and threw an arm around his friend, slowly guiding him outside the kitchen and towards the front door where you parked your car.

You stepped aside to let them pass, your gaze landing on Rafe who was already looking at you, licking his bottom lip before speaking. "Here." He reached into his pocket and handed you Topper's phone. "What? Why do you have my brother's phone ?", you asked him, as It didn't hit you yet what was going in.

"Thought he might need someone to pick him up before he would be a complete mess.", he chuckled, shrugging his shoulders and looking away for a short moment.

Your eyebrows shot up as the realization finally hit you."You texted me to come pick him up? Why would you do that?" He chuckled and looked down at you. " Like I said; I was worried about my friend." "Bullshit.", you called him out right away. "If you were worried about him, you would have told me where he was instead of beating around the bush."

"Just wanted some conversation." he replied simply, a hint of a smile playing on his lips. You took a deep breath and closed your eyes while doing so, trying not to let him get under your skin. It would only please him.

"Good night, Rafe." you smiled at him before turning around and pushing through sweaty crowd again, reaching your car where Kelce and Topper were already waiting for you.

You pressed the little button on your car key, allowing them to get in while you were still a few meters away. Kelce jumped into the back seat, and Topper settled next to you in the front.

You slid behind the wheel and closed your door, glancing over your shoulder at Topper’s friend. “Should I drive you home too?” you asked, reaching for your seatbelt and securing it right after.

“Sure thing, pipsqueak,” he grinned, his eyes heavy and his body slumping down onto the back seat. You rolled your eyes for what felt like the hundredth time in the last thirty minutes and started the engine, pulling away from the property.

A few minutes into the drive, you looked over to your right. “You’re lucky. Mom and Dad aren’t home tonight,” you smirked slowly, trying to lighten the mood since he was still your annoying brother. Annoying, but family.

A scoff escaped his lips as he stared out the window. “As if they’re ever home.” 

You sighed quietly, shrugging your shoulders. “Well, it’s still better than having to explain why you’re drunk and high.” 

“They wouldn’t understand anyway. They never do. All they do is scream and complain. They don’t care.” He turned his head toward you, studying your face. “But honestly, I don’t know which one of us they’re more disappointed in,” he chuckled.

“Yeah… Mom’s worried I’m drinking myself into a coma, while Dad is worried you’ll run off with Maybank or some other pogue.” The car fell silent for a moment before you both erupted into unexpected laughter. 

"Honestly, I don’t know which one is worse,” you giggled, gripping the wheel a little tighter as you turned onto your street. "Not sure who's setting the bar lower now, huh?" Topper smirked.

“I guess we should take him with us tonight before his parents have a heart attack,” you suggested, nodding toward Kelce, who was snoring in the back seat.

“Yeah…” he glanced at his friend and then back at you. “Thank you for picking me up, even though I didn’t text you. It’s good to know I can still count on you.” He smiled softly at you, placing his hand on your shoulder.

"No problem, Topper." you smiled back at him before turning off your car and finally parked in your garage. "Let‘s get him inside.", you grinned, eager to get out like Topper, when your phone suddenly vibrated in your purse.

Hm, probably the pogues asking If everything‘s alright after you left so quick with only telling them it‘s an 'family emergency'.

You opened your little white purse Sarah had given you on your last birthday and rummaged through it, fishing out your phone. You had a few messages from JJ and Sarah, asking you when - wait.

What was that? A message by an unknown number.

unknown number

i took the liberty of grabbing your number while I had the chance to.

was nice seeing you tonight, hot and bothered like always..

sweets dreams, angel.

xx rafe

That son of a - wait, why were you smiling together with your heart beating faster ?

masterlist | taglist | navigation | valentines day special

tags: @supernaturaldawning @cardibre91 @aegonsslxt @juliet-017

xoxo sarah <3

[zreamy]

things i know that i can't have (teaser)

jake's life was hard enough before he fell for you—balancing uni, football, and being a good christian son. in some cruel twist of fate, sleeping with you has only made things harder—and, according to sunghoon (and scripture), damned him to hell the first time he thought about it.

genres: college au, (established) fwb to lovers, smut, fluff, angst

teaser warnings: minors dni, smut (yn sends nudes and jake jerks off)..........extremely dramatic (jake is going through it basically)

teaser word count: 1,125 (chose peace)

fic word count: probably around 35k???

post date: apr 3 !!!

message from zo: yeah uh huh zreamy finally finished a jake fic.. yeah uh huh (i say as i'm still writing this fic.. im affirming #lawofassumption ..sigh whatever whatever) the wip page is literally cursed !!! it is it is it is .. anyway.. jake nation will always win accept me please jake nation.......

r/Christianity 

u/footballfan1511 | 2m

How bad is premarital sex, really? (Need quick answers!!!)

I (20M) have been having sex with my friend (20F) for three weeks now. I knew it was wrong, but she’s everything (very hot, totally, completely sexy), so I didn’t care. BUT I just saw this verse (Matthew 5:28-30) and apparently it’s a sin just to THINK about it??? 

The last time we did ‘it’ was this morning before church (sorry), and I was supposed to go over there tonight, but I’ve been freaking out about that verse all day…….. idk what to do but I really like her, so much, and I still want this, with her. Please give me advice .. 

Every Thursday night. Ten p.m. sharp. Almost no exceptions. You call Jake, talking shit for as long as it takes one thing to lead to another. Tonight is an exception—you had friends over, rescheduled for midnight. Jake lies in bed, hair still damp from his post-football training shower, counting each minute as it passes. 23:55. His leg is shaking. 23:56. He sits up straight, jolting as if waking from a nightmare, nerves sharp and restless as his thumbs fly over the keyboard, texting Sunghoon. 

Jake: What about phone sex?

Jake: Like if I don’t think about her while I do it? 

Sunghoon’s groan reaches Jake through the thin walls of their shared flat. Drawn-out and long-suffering. Read receipt. 23:57. Three dots. 

Hoon: I can’t tell you what to think, but if you’re asking me then you probably alr know

Hoon: Also..??? Do you think you can jack your shit on the phone without thinking about her 😭😭😭

Jake snorts despite himself, much too loud for the quiet. Echoing as if even the room disapproves. He closes his eyes, shakes his head. Palm to his cheek. A low smack, half-joking, half-sincere. Guilt snakes around him, a hot, unwelcome coil that won’t ease. Jake gets the sense that the choice ahead — to answer or not to answer — might drastically skew his life one way or another. 

A minute early. 23:59. Your name on his screen. Phone humming in his hold, pulse lashing his throat. On the other end of the line, before he has the chance to weigh his options, you dead the call—making his decision for him. 

Jake’s heart stumbles, clumsy in his chest. He thinks of the verse, sharp and prickly—crown of thorns on heavy head. He has been thinking about it since Saturday morning. Extra training with Team B, avoiding you, six-thirty wake-ups to join Sunghoon at the rink. Ice-cold mornings melting into afternoons. No matter what he tries, it always comes back. Lustful intent, adultery, with her. And despite his best efforts to pray for rapture, Thursday has come, and Jake has lived to see it. 

A minute late. 00:01. Your name on his screen. Hovering thumb. He knows that phone sex and sex-sex aren’t the same thing, Matthew didn’t even have a phone—but if he could’ve, and he could’ve known you, and you wanted him? Jake sighs. He should answer. If your right hand causes you to sin, cut it off, and throw it away. The words sink their senile claws into him, holding on for dear, frail life. His phone stills in his palm. 

You don’t call again. You never have. If this phone call is going to happen, it’s up to Jake to make it so. This knowledge and its weight multiply by the second. An itch he doesn’t try to scratch, knowing he won’t be able to reach it. Another agonising nine minutes trudge along. 00:10. His phone buzzes on his chest, and he knows it’s you before he looks. Two texts.

YN: Said you’d stay up for me Yunie :((( 

YN: You don’t think I’m worth the wait?

Reading your messages through the notifications, he’s having a hard time convincing himself not to reply. Not to tell you he waited, that of course, you’re worth it. His guilt loosens, making space for his desire to reassure you—he cannot rule out the possibility that this desire outweighs his guilt. Silence settles in his room, stretched thin and strange around him. He sighs. 

YN: Attachments: 2 images

YN: Wanted to hear your reaction, but you can tell me when you’re up ig.

YN: Night, loser :P 

Butterflies, sudden and bright—teenaged. Foolish. Tucked under the notification, the photos dare him to look. His curiosity clicks it, and the first picture fills the screen, yanking his breath from his lungs. 

Most of your face is cut off, showing only your lips—pouty and glossy and pretty. Pulling at him in a way he’s not quite equipped to name. This would be enough for him, an innocent selfie, you and those pretty eyes, that smile. More than enough—pulse quickening just thinking about it. His gaze lingers on your lips, stuck for a while. Then, unintentionally, his eyes flick lower. Hair fanned over your pillow, breasts peeking out from under black lace. Fuck. A sight he’s seen a million times, but somehow, each time feels like the first. Jake gulps. Holy shit. He ignores the throbbing in his pants, how much tighter they are—he won’t give in. No matter how badly he’s craving it. He’s stronger than that. With his eyes, he traces your lips. Ogles until his screen dims, locking the picture away again.

Picture two. Fuck. You on your stomach, grainy in your webcam. Arched back, black lace panties over your hips. Fuck. The lingerie, the shape of your body.. Seeing you like this, so perfect and all for him—it’s taking every last shred of his self-control not to get in his car and rush over to you. Want, need, tugs at him. A tether he can’t break. His phone locks. 

Enough is enough. He drags his feet all the way back to the shower, oppressive cold water hitting him. Doing absolutely nothing for his revolting need. This isn’t working—not the water, not the attempt at self-control. Not when he’s already hard and aching against his stomach. Soft breasts. Round ass. Wet—his hand moves instinctively, forehead resting on the cool tiles. He closes his eyes, your body clear in the dark. Full lips. Arched back. He’s breathless when he finishes, head bowed as heat coils low in his stomach. The water carries his release away. Nose crinkled as it swirls around the drain, cringing at the sight—guilt, shame curling around him.

Again, he dries off, pulls on clean pyjamas, and drags his feet to bed. On his side, he closes his eyes, your body like a brand behind his eyelids, thoughts filling the quiet in his room. Exhaustion however, is its own kind of mercy, and eventually, pulls him under.

[endofthelinegang]

falling together

authors note: if you're new here welcome, if not you know what's going to happen, spoilers sort of for the bolts of thunder. comfort fic, and just know that if you ever need to talk to anyone about anything even if its just to nerd out and make a friend please know my messages are always open and that i see all of you and i love all of you unconditionally. anyway, proceed with the bob fic.

If you heard one more bit of bickering, you were going to snap.

Between the phone calls between Sam and Bucky arguing with each other under the table away from their legal guidance, the girls and Walker fighting over stupid little comments he just had to make for no discernable reason, and Alexei walking around screaming instead of just talking about everything, you were practically picking at your skin to get out of the general living spaces.

It wasn't even that they were at each other's head that the tension was too much, it was actually more the noise of it all. Most annoying was the way that everyone thought they could talk to you about all of their issues all day every day and of course you cared and of course you wanted to listen. But my god it was practically useless, any and all advice you gave was just thrown away in an instant. Once that gratification of having a solution was there, it was like the issue never existed to them at all.

So there you sat on your comforter, bed still perfectly made with earbuds in as loud as you could get them with the noise cancellation on and the Do Not Disturb function on—even if no one texted you, your phone would be certain to tell you your volume was absurdly loud and ruining your ears.

You would have rather had the TV on as some mindless noise and to play on the phone, but then there was a chance one of them would happen to hear you sitting there and invade your space some more. Worse, they might try to watch TV with you and then that would lead to everyone eventually being in your room and possibly bickering.

With your phone thrown to the foot of your bed, you laid your head on your pillow. It felt odd to lay there without a blanket or source of warmth, in fact the thought gave you cold chills despite the perfect temperature being in the room. Not usually choosing to lay on your back for comfort, your arms and hands were unsure of what to do. So they laid gently in your lap and all you could hear was music, and all you could feel eventually turned into basically nothing.

Peace was overwhelming, so much so that it made you succumb to one of the most simple things peace could grant you. A fucking nap.

Headphones laid silently in your ears, your phone was somewhere not bugging you, until all of a sudden your body was made aware that it existed again. Unsure quite yet, you remained in a sleepy haze, until your body connected all of the dots: you were being very gently shaken.

Ordinarily, the correct response would be to sit up and see what was needed, maybe even smile and stretch out while listening. Instead, grabbing the hand and pushing backwards was the choice made without your eyelids even opening to see who or what was going on.

"I-I'm sorry, I just... I thought."

Fuck.

You could hear the voice past the noise cancellation, though it was muffled it made you sit up and rip the earbuds out, throwing them haphazardly around the bed and look to the space nearest your bed that was now entirely void of anyone.

Making your hands into fists, you shook them as you got out of bed and rushed down the hall to catch up.

"Wait, wait, wait," you were whispering-yelling, seeing that the day had come to be dark and you knew that the older folk did in fact prefer their sleep to start around then.

Chasing him made you think: when was the last time you saw him? You had been noticing everything else and focusing on everything at once, but when was the last time you had seen Robert?

You tried to count back the days, but it blurred together. Had it been two? Three? More?

That realization hit like a gut punch. You had been so wrapped up in managing everyone else’s meltdowns that you hadn’t noticed your own world—the one person who mattered most—slipping into the background.

Your bare feet padded against the cool floor as you turned the corner. “Robert!” you hissed, still trying not to shout.

He was already at the far end of the hallway, just about to turn the corner. His shoulders hunched like he was trying to make himself smaller, like disappearing would be easier than confronting… you.

You hated that. You hated that he thought he needed to hide from you.

“Hey,” you said, softer this time, voice catching up to your feet as you got closer. “Baby. Stop.”

And he did.

He didn’t turn around right away, but he stopped, head tilted like he was deciding if facing you would make everything worse. You reached out, your hand brushing his arm gently, and only then did he finally look at you.

His eyes were red. Not glowing with power, not burning with rage. Just… tired. So very tired.

“Oh, Rob…” you whispered, stepping in closer and wrapping your arms around his waist before he could say anything else.

He stood stiffly for a second, frozen in place like a man not used to comfort—but then he melted into you, arms coming up around your shoulders like he needed you to hold him together.

You buried your face against his chest and just held him. Not as Sentry. Not as some all-powerful being barely containing a force of destruction inside him. Just Robert. Your Robert.

“I didn’t mean to wake you,” he mumbled into your hair. “You looked so peaceful. I just—I didn’t wanna be alone anymore.”

Your heart shattered in slow motion. You leaned back just enough to see his face, cupping it in your hands.

“I’m so sorry. I should’ve seen it. I should’ve felt it.”

He shook his head. “You’ve been dealing with so much. I didn’t wanna add to it.”

“You don’t add to anything, Rob,” you said fiercely. “You’re not a burden. You’re not too much. You’re mine. And I want to be here for you the way you are for me.”

The silence between you was heavy but tender, like neither of you needed to speak to be understood. You guided him gently back toward the bedroom, fingers entwined with his, thumb brushing against his knuckles with each step.

Once there, you sat him down and climbed onto the bed beside him, pulling a blanket off the top of the bed frame over both of you. Your hands never left him—one stroking up and down his arm, the other resting on his chest where you could feel the steady, if somewhat erratic, beat of his heart.

He laid his head in your lap without asking. You threaded your fingers through his hair, soothing in slow, rhythmic movements.

He didn’t say anything after that. Not for a while.

You could feel him trying to breathe slowly—trying to make it look effortless, like nothing was wrong. But you knew him. You knew the way his body carried pain. You could feel it beneath your fingertips in the tension of his shoulders, in the way he held his jaw like it might fall apart if he let it go slack.

He wasn’t okay. And he hadn’t been for a while.

You let your fingers trail gently over his scalp, his hair soft and curling around your knuckles as you combed through it again and again. That kind of touch didn’t fix things. But it reminded him—hopefully—that he was here. That someone saw him. That he mattered.

The room was dark except for the soft golden spill of a bedside lamp, and the music had long since stopped. But it was quiet now. Finally, quiet. And for the first time in days, maybe weeks, you weren’t dreading the silence. It was giving him room to breathe.

You felt his voice before you heard it—a small tremble in his chest.

“I don’t know who I am sometimes,” he whispered. “I wake up and there’s this fog, and I try to remember what it felt like to be… human. But it’s like the edges are gone. I keep reaching for myself and finding nothing.”

Your hand stilled for a moment. You let his words settle before you spoke.

“I see you,” you said softly. “Even when you can’t. I see Robert. I don’t love you because you’re strong. Or because you’re the Sentry. I love you because… when you talk to plants, you whisper. Because you always wait for people to catch up, even though you could fly ahead. Because you care, so much, it hurts you. And I know that doesn’t feel like enough to you right now. But it’s still you.”

His fingers curled in your blanket, gripping tight. “You make it sound so easy.”

“It’s not,” you admitted. “It’s not easy to hold on when you’re falling apart. But you don’t have to do it alone. I’m here. Even when it’s dark. Especially when it’s dark.”

He blinked up at you slowly, eyes glassy and red-rimmed. There wasn’t drama in his crying—no shaking sobs or heaving breaths. Just quiet tears that he didn’t bother to wipe away.

Maybe that was worse. He was always so quiet when he was slipping.

You reached down and brushed one away with your thumb, as gently as you could. Like you were afraid you’d break him by accident.

“I’m scared of being loved,” he confessed. “Because if you really knew how broken I am, you wouldn’t love me anymore. And then I’d lose the only thing keeping the Void from swallowing me.”

Your chest ached in that deep, marrow-level way only grief and love and helplessness can cause.

“I have seen it,” you said. “I’ve seen the cracks. I’ve seen the days you can’t talk. I’ve seen you stare at walls like they’re screaming at you. And I still love you. Not because I’m delusional. Because I chose to love all of you. Even the parts that hurt.”

He closed his eyes, and you felt the air go out of him in a slow, trembling exhale.

“Okay,” he said.

It was a small word. Quiet. Shaky.

But it meant he believed you. Maybe not all the way. Maybe not forever. But right now.

He believed you.

You hesitated for a moment, then gently tugged the sleeve of your hoodie down past your wrist. Quietly, without saying anything, you wrapped it around his hand—his left wrist, the one he always rubbed raw when he was struggling but trying not to show it. The fabric hung a little loose, warm from your skin. You placed your hand over his, like sealing a promise.

“Hold onto this,” you whispered. “If you ever forget, just look at it. Or touch it. Or... just know I gave it to you because I love you. Not the powerful part. Not the superhero. Just you.”

His breath hitched again, but this time it wasn’t panic. It was something closer to relief. He didn’t say anything. He just curled his fingers around the cuff and nodded like he’d just been handed a lifeline.

So you stayed like that. One hand in his hair, the other wrapped around him. Guarding him not from the world, but from that part of himself he kept caged and silent and hurting.

You didn’t need to save him. He wasn’t a problem to solve.

He just needed you to stay.

And you would. For as long as he needed.

[coco-loco-nut]

Miss Americana

Pairing: Lando Norris x American!Reader

Summary: Moments with Lando and his silly, American, girlfriend

TW: AMERICA! RAHH🦅

a/n: i wrote this super quick bc the ideas were bombarding me at work and it is not proofread. it’s also silly and stupid as an apology for my last oneshot which seemed to break y’all.

requests are open! masterlist part two

—————————————————

Lando didn’t mind you were American, in fact, that might be why he loved you. You poked fun at his britishness, even trying to copy his accent. It’s almost like a joke with you two.

“Baby, where are you?” Lando whines from his gaming chair, needing attention, having texted you a minute ago asking you for cuddles.

“I’m declaring my independence!” You yell back, your voice coming from outside. He pauses his game and trudges towards your voice. The two of you are spending time in your American residence, near Miami. He spots you near the pool, holding something out.

“Baby, what are you doing?” He spots your camera recording.

“Happy December 16th!” You grin, dropping a box of tea into the pool. Lando’s brows furrow, thinking back to the book he read about the Revolutionary War. Needing to have some sort of reference for your jokes, he bought a book with the basics to read on the flights to races.

“Oh… I get it. Babe, we aren’t even IN Boston,” Lando says after a minute, and after you start laughing, he does too. Lando quickly grabs your phone and pushes you in the water too.

“Rude,” you huff, grabbing the tea box and climbing out of the pool. If it weren’t for your grin, Lando would be running away. You grab your phone and Logan pops out from behind the bushes as Lando’s phone dings.

“Wait, I thought you were recording,” Lando says, his eyes narrowing at Logan.

“Nope,” you pop the p and walk inside, the video quickly going viral and spreading around the drivers group chats. Logan makes his quick escape, leaving Lando to wonder why he agreed to associate with Americans.

———

“GO GO GO GO! YES! TOUCHDOWN!” You yell, seemingly oblivious to the cold. Lando surprised you with a trip to your alma mater’s biggest football game of the season. He asked Logan for help with the surprise, but the Floridian didn’t mention, well, how much of a cult the school was.

“Logan said it was going to be cold, but not this cold,” Lando grumbles, taking a cute pic of you cheering.

“Babe, he has terrible taste in schools, why would you take his advice? Also, this is the northeast, it’s obviously going to be way colder than Austin will be next week,” You snort before joining in on a chant. Lando was only slightly regretting choosing seats right beside the student section, however, he could get behind the drinking. Especially tailgating. When you drug him out of his nice warm bed to hang outside the stadium at 9am with your old college friends, he was skeptical. All it took was one freshly grilled meal and a beer to turn that around. He is planning on creating an American tailgate for the race next week in Austin.

“American universities are... something else,” Lando smiles at you. Seeing as you are only one year removed from college, you had plans for the weekend.

“Just wait until we go to the bars later. Oh! And the frat party tomorrow, it’s family weekend and my cousin is getting us in,” you smile back at him. It was indeed a long, drunk, weekend, but Lando couldn’t help but admit that he would be more than happy to come back for more games throughout the year.

———

Austin was something else the next weekend. You and Logan were quick to jump on board with Lando’s idea for a tailgate, and you all gathered at the Airbnb that you rented the night before the race, right after qualifying. The team’s socials loved the idea as well as the Formula One social media team, so you paid for nothing as the drivers and friends gathered at the Airbnb for your and Logan’s tailgate. You made sure there were multiple coolers full of alcohol, soda, and water while Logan manned the grill. You wore a NFL football jersey while Logan repped a Miami Dolphins jersey.

“Why are those two arguing,” Max asks Lando, observing you and Logan fight about whose team is better.

“Either college football or pro football,”

“American football, mate,” George says, standing on the other side of Max.

“All I’m saying is that you have TERRIBLE taste in teams!” You huff in Logan’s direction. He rolls his eyes, turning his focus to the grill as you grab a beer. Lando, who is sporting your alma mater’s football jersey, walks over to the two of you.

“She’s not wrong, Logan,” Lando chuckles as the blonde boy throws his arms up in the air in frustration. Honestly, the only thing that can top the bickering between the both of you is when you pull out the jell-o shots and people start grabbing food.

Half an hour later, you turn on the projector to the screen, a Disney logo behind you. You take position in front of the screen, remote in hand as a microphone. The crowd turns their attention to you. Lando’s lips twitch up in amusement.

“I just got three things to say. God bless our troops. God bless America. AND GENTLEMEN. START YOUR ENGINES!” You yell as you hit play on the remote.

“Okay, focus. Speed. I. Am. Speed.” The voice says over the screen. You and Logan decided to culture everyone, making the end of the tailgate partly a movie night. Eventually, everyone finds a seat in the lawn chairs scattered in front of the screen. Lando grabs your hand and kisses the back of it when you sit down.

“I love you, y/n,” he smiles softly as he nurses his beer.

“Love you more, Lan, but not as much as America,” you chuckle, teasing him. He playfully rolls his eyes, knowing you are jesting.

“Are you always so… American?” Daniel laughs as he sits in the open chair beside you.

“Shut up before she drunkenly sings the national anthem,” Lando hisses, cringing at the time he mistakenly took you to a karaoke pub in London on July 4th. Honestly, he should’ve known better.

“I hate you all,”

[lilyprettyremy]

How to Get Out of a Reading Slump:

Let’s be real—reading slumps happen to the best of us. One day you’re devouring novels like snacks, and the next, the thought of picking up a book feels like climbing a mountain. But don’t worry, this isn’t permanent! Here’s how you can reignite your love for reading with practical advice (and a little personal touch).

1. Start Small and Easy

Sometimes, the thought of diving into a big, heavy novel can feel overwhelming. Instead, reach for something light, fun, or even familiar. What Worked for Me: When I hit a slump, I re-read my favorite childhood book. The nostalgia pulled me in, and before I knew it, I was back in the reading groove.

Try This:

A novella, poetry collection, or short story.

A feel-good romance or an easy thriller that keeps you hooked.

2. Switch Formats

Who says reading has to be on paper? Shake things up with audiobooks, eBooks, or graphic novels. Sometimes, a new format is all you need to make stories exciting again. What I Loved: Listening to an audiobook while walking felt like having a friend tell me a story. It’s low-pressure and immersive.

Try This:

Download an audiobook for your commute or chores.

Explore comics or manga—they’re visually engaging and quick to finish.

3. Create a Cozy Reading Ritual

Make reading feel like a treat, not a task. Set the scene: grab a warm drink, snuggle up in a cozy blanket, and turn reading into a moment of self-care. What Helps Me: I light a candle, sip some tea, and read for just 15 minutes. Even if I don’t feel like continuing, I’ve created a moment of peace for myself.

4. Ditch the Guilt

If a book isn’t grabbing your attention, it’s okay to put it down! Life’s too short to force yourself through something you’re not enjoying. What I Do: I keep a “second chance” stack of books I didn’t finish but might come back to later. It takes the pressure off and lets me move on guilt-free.

Pro Tip: Give yourself permission to stop at any time. The right book will find you when you’re ready.

5. Set the Mood with Your TBR

Sometimes a slump happens because you’re not in the mood for what you’ve been reading. Change it up with books that match your current vibe. My Recent Trick: When I wanted cozy, wintery vibes, I picked up a snow-filled mystery, and it fit the season perfectly. It felt like I was part of the story.

Try This:

If it’s cold, go for a winter romance or mystery.

Feeling adventurous? Pick up a fast-paced fantasy.

6. Buddy Up

Reading doesn’t have to be a solo activity. Share the experience with someone who loves books as much as you do. What Worked for Me: My friend and I read the same book and texted each other our reactions. It made the whole process so much fun, and we got to geek out together.

Pro Tip: Join a book club, even if it’s online! Goodreads or apps like Fable make it easy to connect with other readers.

7. Take the Pressure Off

Sometimes, we fall into slumps because we set unrealistic expectations for ourselves. Forget about reading “x” number of books or finishing by a certain date—just read what you love. My Perspective: I stopped tracking my reading goals for a while and focused on enjoying the stories. That shift in mindset made all the difference.

8. Revisit Your Why

Ask yourself: Why do you love reading? Is it the escape, the knowledge, the way stories make you feel? Reconnecting with that "why" can reignite your passion. 💡 What I Remind Myself: Reading isn’t a chore—it’s a gift. When I focus on that, it stops feeling like something I “should” do and starts feeling like something I want to do.

9. Explore a Different Genre

If you’ve been stuck in the same genre, it might be time for a change. Trying something new can surprise you and pull you right back in. My Experiment: I went from contemporary fiction to fantasy and felt like I’d rediscovered the magic of reading all over again.

Pro Tip: Ask for recommendations in genres you don’t usually explore!

10. Go Easy on Yourself

At the end of the day, slumps happen. Don’t stress about it—it’s just a phase. The books will always be there when you’re ready. My Advice: Take it slow, experiment, and most importantly, enjoy the journey. Sometimes, stepping away from reading for a little while can also recharge your love for it.

Getting out of a reading slump is all about finding what sparks your interest again—whether it’s a cozy atmosphere, a gripping audiobook, or a change of genres. Be patient with yourself, and remember, it’s not about the number of books you read but the joy you find in them. So go ahead, grab that book, and take it one page at a time. You’ve got this!