#if i finish it i might share it - first time sharing anything I've written too - we'll see

[happyccino]

oh

that's

oh

i'm

i am legitimately tearing up oh wow

[meowmeowriley]

Ghost had been on his phone since Soap had entered the rec room. Not unusual, he tended to read emails or news articles in his spare time. No, what was unusual was that he had his phone sideways. Occasionally tapping at the screen with a thumb. Gaming then.

The 141's resident emo was full of surprises, one being that Ghost loved video games. The man had an old Playstation 3 that might as well have been his first born, the way he adored it. If the PS3 were his first child, then his Xbox One was rebellious problem child, the way he cursed it constantly, threatening to dismantle it and use its husk as a doorstop. Something about changing constantly, and adds on startup had been his most recent rant. He swore he loved it too, but the favoritism was obvious.

Ghost would be found in his room on one of the two consoles nearly every evening. With how often Soap found him gaming, this behavior shouldn't have struck him as odd, and yet it was the first time he'd ever seen the man play anything on his phone.

"Ya winnin', Lt.?" The glare he earned for that comment had him cackling as he fixed himself a midday coffee.

Soap sat down on the sofa with Ghost and turned on the TV. Ghost continued with whatever he was doing.

Beneath his mask the man's brow was pinched, he chewed his bottom lip, and each tap of his thumb was marginally more firm than the last. Ghost was seething, then.

Soap abandoned his show and instead watched something much more entertaining; Ghost's apparent descent into madness. He huffed on occasion, shifted in his seat, hunched his shoulders, and glared daggers down at his phone, a look that could make any of the rookies on base cry and wet themselves.

Soap was delighted. After he finished his coffee he jogged back to his room and snatched his journal so he could draw Ghost having his fit, he wanted to commit it to memory.

Soap was nearly done with his sketch, though it was a bit more than a simple sketch, nearing realism with how much detail he'd poured into Ghost's stormy eyes, when Ghost spoke quietly and for the first time in nearly an hour of them sharing space. "This game is for godless heathens." 

Soap nearly lost it, just barely managing to smother the laugh that bubbled forth. He coughed to hide what little escaped him, and used his hand to hide his face, scrubbing down to erase the smile that tried to give him away. "What, ah, what're you even playin', Ghost?"

"Tile Towers, on Webkinz."

Soap did lose it then. He'd seen the now ancient stuffy in Ghost's quarters, a scraggly looking leopard, but couldn't wrap his head around the man actually playing the game, let alone getting this angry over a mini game for children. He laughed so hard it hurt, tears streamed down his face, and Ghost booted him off the couch without even looking away from his phone.

***

Written by someone who recently found out that webkinz classic has a mobile app, and rediscovered their utter hatred for Tile Towers. Why do I keep playing it? It's awful, fucking stupid! And yet I keep. Going. Back. I'm also miffed that my original account has been deactivated. I've only been absent for like 13 years! Come on! 🤬

[nicksolemnlyswears]

DATING HAN LUE HEADCANONS

pairing: han lue x reader

word count: ~2k

warnings: 18+, no smut perse but mentions of it, language, not much really, this is pretty tame

a/n: hello there! it's been a while since i've written for this lovely man but i recently found this on my notes and figured it's a good time to finish it. this was a request i got a while ago, it was by an anon so anon if you see this, i got you!!

the request only asked for dating headcanons so there's not much plot in here unlike the waitress one.

i feel really bad cause i got my han girlies on my inbox asking for more han content and i've been jumping from fandom to fandom. i just need the last movie to come out to fuel the love i have for han.

enjoy <3

Han is a man who prefers long term relationships. Amongst a life full of chaos he relishes on those relationships he can lean back and find calm and comfort, someone he can rely on.

Doesn’t mean Han's not into hook ups though. Whenever he’s single he’ll have his fair share of one nights stands. At the end of the day he's a man with needs, especially since he loves putting his life on the line.

Han he keeps people in boxes: friends, off limits, hookups, and relationship material. Of course there’s also that box with bright red letters that spell TOXIC. Most people in that box are one night stands that thought they stood a chance after a hookup and became a little unhinged.

Whenever Han finds that person that is relationship material he doesn’t let them go. He’ll pursue them in his cool and nonchalant way. He’ll compliment them so smoothly they won’t notice until much later.

Han will invite you out to do random stuff, wording it as 'errands' and it’s only in the middle of it that you realize it’s a date. Lunch followed by a scenic walk in a park in Tokyo and then dessert? Definitely a date. It’s perfect because it takes those first date jitters out of the way.

You fall in love with him way too quickly and Han knows when you do. It's your own fault because once you realize you're head over heels you become this mumbling, blushing mess.

It was a smooth transition from friends to dating to being in a relationship and it's all because of Han. He's great at reading people and it helped him ease your nerves and figure out how you were feeling with every outing.

With entering a new relationship there's a period of getting to know the other person. Han is an open book, he doesn't see the point of hiding anything with the girl that might be his future. You either accept him as he is now or you don't and that's the end. He has nothing to hide although he tiptoes around his late teens.

When Han tells you of his life as a fugitive you don't believe him. You laugh in his face. Like, “Yeah, sure. You pulled off a heist in Brazil and stole from the richest mafia man with your posey of misfits. Hilarious.” Han shrugs and moves on.

You could've googled it but you don't. You just think Han had a rough upbringing he doesn’t like to talk about. Which is partly true but not the case. It comes to bite you in the ass afterwards.

Moving on, Han is not a fan of pecks on the lips. If it’s not a kiss that lasts more than 5 seconds don’t fucking bother. He’s an all or nothing kinda man, you know?

I mean it’s not like Han will fight you if you do but it's visible how he's left wanting more. You’ve learned your lesson the hard way. You’re in a rush and to say goodbye you quickly peck him on the lips and then Han will pull you back in and plant a good kiss in, successfully making you even more late.

That being said Han adores kisses on the forehead or temple or back of the head. Han will randomly walk up to you while you do chores around the apartment and press a kiss to the back your head with his hands on your hips. Then he’ll walk off like nothing happened, leaving you all ☺️☺️.

Dating Han includes spending nightfall in each others arms. Resting in the increasingly comfortable sofa and raking your fingers through his hair, coaxing him to stay in.

"Do you have to go out, Hannie?" You whisper, scratching on his scalp making him shudder.

"I told them I'd be there." Han's response is muffled as he gets more comfortable, his face pressed against your breasts.

"But do you have to?" You insist as your other hand goes to scratch his back.

"I guess I can stay in and see them tomorrow night," Han sighs as he relaxes even more against you. He's far too comfortable and this cuddling will soon evolve into something much more exciting by the way you're hanging on to him.

For a time there Han pauses his life for you. He stops going to the races and ignores the calls of the Toretto crew to nurture your growing relationship.

By pausing Han completely ignores that other part of his life leading the Toretto gang to come to Tokyo. It’s not like Han meant to ignore them he was just enjoying his time with you so much that he didn’t realize how much time had gone. We’ll get into that later.

Han is not one to argue a lot. If you’re annoyed at him for one reason or another he’ll take it and try to distract you. Whether it’s by calling you a sweet nickname or holding you or kissing you.

But if it’s about something that puts you at risk Han will put his foot down. You went out with your friends late at night and walked home alone? Unacceptable. Do you know how many sickos are out there? That's when real arguments form because you can be so stubborn and independent. You can handle yourself. Han trusts you fully, it's the outside world he doesn't trust.

If you prioritize your job instead of your well being? Nope. Han will have to step in. Hell you don’t have to work if you don’t want to. He has enough money for the two of you. The idea of being taken care of like that is so tempting but you do like having your own life and money.

Sleepy, morning ‘I love you’s.’ That’s when he says those three words the most. You typically wake up before him so you’ll play with his hair and trace your fingertips on his back to softly wake him up.

It's mid morning and you've just woken up. You turn in bed to find Han sleeping on his stomach, his long hair covering his eyes and tickling his cheeks.

You brush the hair away from Han's face, tracing your fingertips over his face to softly wake him. You'd typically let him sleep in more but you had plans for the day and he insisted in driving you around.

He starts to stir and softly groans. Your hands go to his naked back, because he loves when you do that. "Good morning, handsome."

"Morning," he says, opening his eyes and looking at you. His voice deeper and rougher than normal. He clears his throat and pull you to him, kissing your head and muttering an, "I love you."

"I love you, more," you say, kissing his chest before wiggling out of his arms, "Time to get up, you promised me to take me to brunch before going to the grocery store."

Han will absolutely let you drive his precious car. Whenever you want to for as long as you want to. Doesn’t matter if you scratch it or pop a tire. He can fix his car no problem. As long as you're safe he's all in for it.

Will silently get off on you driving fast and changing the gears of the car expertly. At that moment Han is a spectator and you're the show. He understands all the other girls he's either been with or hooked up with and how they got turned on at him driving.

Driving a fast car is sexy.

Han is the kinkiest yet softest lover ever. He will try anything at least once but is not into the harsher parts of BDSM. Spanking and bondage is okay he sees the appeal and he likes it but not the crazy parts of it. Han's favorite position is when you ride him. Not reverse cowgirl though because he likes seeing your face and your chest bouncing. He loves your expressions and hearing the curses that slip from your lips.

Han is a slut for long, messy make out sessions. The one's that start slow and then build up. His tongue in your mouth or his in yours he doesn't have a preference. Your hands in his hair, pulling on it. Wandering hands but not going anywhere. The ones where when he pulls away there's a string of saliva between you two.

I'm sorry but Han is a handsy man. In public he'll hold back so he'll keep a hand on your hips or waist, an arm around your shoulder is more common though. If he's being cheeky he'll grab your ass in public. In private though? Oh, hands always on you. Hand on your ass, hand on your tit, on your thigh, always a hand on you.

Han loves to buy you clothes and lingerie. He takes note on what clothes you like and will buy you a bunch of those but will also buy you clothes he would go crazy seeing you wear. He will demand you model them for him.

Clothes like a little black dress, four or five inch, expensive, high heels, lacy lingerie sets. You will model them but then you'll end up in his bed, clothes still on.

Han is quiet in public but in private, with you? That man loves to yap, especially when you get him to talk about things he's extremely passionate about. It's hard to get him to shut up.

Han won't succumb to his friends teasing him about the fact that his whipped, or a simp, oor any nonsense like that. He has you and he loves you. There's nothing to be ashamed of.

The day Domenic Toretto knocks on your shared home is the day you're thrown for a spin.

Han is right behind you greeting one of his closest friends. He introduces you two happily, urging Dom to come in and take a seat.

You stay right besides Han in the couch across from the big man. You've heard a lot about Dom and it's all been great things. You're just shocked at the surprise visit.

They make small talk until Dom says, "We need your help, Han."

"Anything, Dom."

When Dom leaves you're too quiet. Han approaches you, giving you a look, "What's wrong?"

"What's wrong? This man just came here to ask for your help in a secret mission to take down this dangerous mercenary. How do you think I feel?" You exclaim overwhelmed at what was discussed.

"You sound very surprised. I told you about Brazil and my past," Han cocks his head curiously.

"I didn't think it was real, Hannie!" You yell, "I thought you had a rough upbringing and this was your way to joke and cover it up."

"I'm sorry," Han apologizes, pressing his forehead against yours.

"Are you really doing this?" You ask, scared of what might happen now.

"I have to. They need my help," Han responds, cupping your face in his hands. There are tears in your eyes, afraid of the new reality. Gone are the days of ignorant bliss.

"What about me?" The question was heavy and loaded. You only asked one question but there were hundreds in disguise.

"I'll be back in no time. You will stay here and stay safe, alright?"

Han left early the next morning. He woke you up with a hand on your cheek and another in your back. Han gave you a long, sweet kiss and whispered 'I love you.'

You were left at home with all this new information, your computer to google Brazil, and time.

ta-daaaa. i hope you guys enjoyed this. i know it's not a lot but i feel like i would be repeating myself since dating han headcanons is very much like the waitress headcanons, except without a plot.

i'm trying to get back into writing for han it's just a little hard since i feel like all my fictional crushes are pulling me apart, begging for my attention. my love for han is always there it's just not string enough to make me sit and write a lot. it's why i need this movie to come out asap.

you guys have been so patient so thank you for that. in any case i hope you like or enjoy some of my other work while i try and bring back han <3

[luveline]

hi jade!!! i was wondering if i could request a bassist!remus x roadie!reader fic in which they spend time together on their day off from touring? maybe reader is totally surprised that he even asked her?

hi gorgeous!! modern au, fem 1k

cw vague adult theme, mdni 

"There you are," Remus says, as though he's said it a hundred times before, and he'll say it a hundred times again. "I've been looking for you." 

As a roadie (merchandising, mostly), there's no reason for Remus to know who you are, nor care, but he seems to like you anyhow. And there's nowhere for you to hang out in your downtime beside hotel lobby's or your literal assigned seat in the minivan, so here you are, in your pyjamas, laying on a random lobby couch with a book smushed to your chest. 

"What?" you ask, wiping the sleep from your eyes. 

"I've been looking for you. You weren't in your room." 

"I share my room with three other girls, one who has sleep apnea." The muscles in your back sing like plucked strings as you sit up. "It's quieter here… You're looking for me?" 

"Mm. Come on. We'll go get a late dinner." 

"I'm in my pyjamas." 

Remus gestures down at himself. "I thought you might be." 

He's dressed down too. Every roadie has their thing —it's hard, learning so many names at once, and eventually people begin to typecast one another as their most defining feature. Yours, to your indifference, seems to have become your more comfortable clothing choices. You're not gross, everything's clean, but is everything acceptable attire for going out into the world? 

"No one will even notice they're pyjamas," he assumes you, holding out his hand expectantly. "They look like jogging bottoms." 

"Remus, they're lavender." 

He pulls your hand toward his chest, encouraging you to stand. "They're nice." 

He ferries you out of the hotel, and you thank your lucky stars you wore your converse rather than the hotel slippers. He's clearly thought about this, offering you a hoodie (your size, clearly swiped from the merchandise van, 'marauders' written in jagged lettering across your shoulders like bat wings) as he explains the details of your trip. 

"First we'll get dinner. Then see a film in the cinema, if you want to? They have the new Exorcist." 

"I love horror." 

"I know." He nods to himself. "And then I have to buy you fresh donuts. James says they're the only way to eat them." 

"You don't have to buy me anything." 

"Sorry, I should say it differently. I'd love to buy you fresh donuts. If that's what you want to do." 

You peek at him from the corner of your eye. "I would've stayed in the lobby if I didn't want to come out with you." 

"In that case," he murmurs, wrapping his arm around your shoulders. 

This is worse than flirting. It feels like an initiation, or a turned tide. You smile at him from under his arm and he visibly pauses, falters, before his own smile hooks and he walks forward with a little more purpose. 

The day moves on as promised. You eat a quick dinner at a mid range restaurant before he takes you to the cinema, where he insists he doesn't want any popcorn but eats half of yours anyways. Then he takes you for donuts, and the entire time, you're thinking, what does he want from me? If Remus wanted sex he could fuck a groupie. Half the techs would crawl into bed with him if he asked. Maybe he's just gentlemanly? 

But why would he wanna fuck you? Ignoring any self-esteem issues, you're in cuffed bottoms and bare-faced, and he has no reason to believe you'd be any good in bed. 

He might want something slower, he decides. It's easier to believe when he asks if he can hold your hand on the walk home. 

"What?" you ask, sure you heard him wrong. 

"Can I?" he says, offering you his palm. 

It's different from his pulling earlier. You give him your hand and he squeezes his fingers between yours slowly, as though savouring the feeling.

You shake your head. "Was this…" 

Remus waits for you to finish. It's hard to ask under the weight of his gaze, happy but with that air of knowing you can't quite crack. He always seems so put together, even when he's asking for things, like any answer you give is one he's prepared for. 

"Was this a date?" you force out. 

"That depends. Did it go well?" 

"I would've said yes, if you asked me." 

Remus leans in like he's telling a secret, his voice hushed to match. "I know," he says gently, the tiniest hint of smugness threaded in the slight scratch of his voice. "That's mostly why I didn't ask." 

"Mostly?" 

"I couldn't face rejection. Not from you." His eyes light with an emotion you can't name. "But if you still want to reject me, I'll cope. It might be good for me, actually, it'll give me some material. Nothing makes for better music than losing a pretty girl." 

You fluster at his wording. "I would've worn something nice," you say apologetically. "If I'd known. I would've made an effort to look nice." 

"You always look nice. You think I'm put off by your pyjamas?" 

"Stop," you mumble, mortification creeping in. I can't believe I just went on a date with a rockstar in my pyjamas. 

"It's cute. You're cute, I love that you can fall asleep anywhere–" 

"Stop!" 

Remus laughs and pulls you that last inch into his side, elbow to elbow, hip to hip. "I can't. Teasing you is half the fun. It's why I haven't mentioned the powdered sugar on your lip." 

You sigh and turn your face away from him, wiping your lip with your sleeve. "You always do this." 

"Don't wipe it off, I'll get it. It'll taste sweet." 

You take your hand out of his. "Did you want this to be a date? I'll change my mind." 

He's kinder after that, and when he rubs your shoulder like he knows you need it, you almost pass out. 

[suzuran777]

Review: Ooe -Zenpen- (Adelta)

The first part of Adelta's new BL visual novel "Ooe" was finally released on the 25th last month! The second part is scheduled to be released in winter, but the first part was already so good I highly recommend playing it. I’ve been waiting for this game for a long time and also wrote some general information/theories about the game on this blog some years ago, as well as a review of the trial version. I won't mention any big plot-related spoilers, so if you’re waiting for an English version or are just curious what the game is about, you can still check it out!

Synopsis 30th year of the Showa era (1955), our protagonist Oosaki works for a small detective agency and one day receives a strange request from a client. He's asked to attend a memorial service on behalf of his client, which will be held on the remote island of Ooejima. During his stay on the island, a series of strange events happen, and the ship that was supposed to pick them up never arrives. The organizer who invited them is not there, and shortly afterwards they also lose all contact with the outside world. Stranded on this ominous island, ten people unravel the mystery of their shared pasts and the death of the actress An Ooe.

This version of the game focuses on three different routes, Ariake, Shimbashi and Aomi. Similar to previous Adelta games, you play all of the routes in a pre-decided route order, and with each route you finish, a new choice will show up allowing you to proceed to the next route. As I mentioned in one of my previous blog posts, each character was assigned one earthly desire/mental factor that kind of describes the character, so I will also include this again below. Now I've played the game I know that these factors are definitely not their only personality trait, but some parts of it definitely show up in the story eventually.

Ariake -  Disregard (Anapatrapya 無愧): A mortician who likes helping out those in need. After injuring his dominant hand, he has been receiving a lot of help from others. He's immediately very fond of Oosaki and wants to follow him everywhere. His mental factor pretty much indicates that he doesn't consider his own actions 'bad'.

Shimbashi -  Stinginess (Mātsarya 慳): A screenwriter who speakes in a rather strange way, combining overly-polite speach and insults. When he first meets Oosaki, he doesn't seem to trust him at all and doesn't want to tell him anything. His mental factor refers to him only wanting to satisfy his own desires, and doesn't intend to share anything with others.

Aomi -  Envy (Īrṣyā 嫉): A quiet music teacher who doesn’t talk a lot, and when he does speak, it’s limited to short sentences only. He doesn't like small talk and sometimes when Oosaki asks him something Aomi simply ignores him. His mental factor doesn't need much explanation, but even though it's envy I must say that he's not the overly-jealous type (?). It kind of refers to something more specific in his route which I can't really mention without spoiling.

I don't think you really need a guide for this game as it's pretty obvious when new choices unlock, just start a new game after finishing the first route and you'll see! Ariake does have an alternative ending scene, so during your second playthrough don’t immediately pick the choice that leads to Shimbashi’s route, and return to Ariake’s route one more time. Afterwards you can proceed as usual. Sometimes a few choices pop up, but selecting the wrong choice has no consequences and you’ll just be re-directed to the choice menu. The wind chime sound effect indicates which one is the correct choice, but I kind of enjoyed seeing everyone’s nervous reactions while falsely accusing them of something, so I recommend that too since there really are no consequences. By the way, important items are easy to notice because of their red color, like the record in the record player you can see below. Same goes for any text written in red, it might become relevant later (maybe even in part 2).

Introduction to the story Oosaki lives in a boarding house in Suga, a short walk from Hiratsuka station near Kamakura. His boss Shinkiba, who runs the detective agency, informs him about a request he received from a client. The client, a man who calls himself Shizuma Daiba, asks Oosaki to attend the memorial service of actress An Ooe on his behalf. According to Daiba, it was his father who received the invitation, however he fell ill shortly afterwards. Oosaki assumes that the person who invited him is a relative of the actress. Even though Oosaki never met her, he remembers reading news about her death. which shocked him because she was quite young and died by setting herself on fire. Even though it's a rather strange request and Shinkiba warns Oosaki, he still decides to travel to Ooejima. The island belongs to the Izu Island group and is located near Hachijojima. Originally, it was used as a military base during the Second World War, however after this it became uninhabited. Even though he has never been there, Oosaki knows about the island because his grandma who raised him was originally from this island, and he always felt like he'd travel to the island some day.

On his way to the island, he meets one of the other main characters in this game, Ariake, who’s also travelling to Ooejima for the memorial service. He’s surprised to find out Ariake’s grandmother is also from the island. After arriving at the Mikazuki inn, he receives a warm welcome from a trembling man with a knife (??), who later introduces himself as Funeno. He also meets Shimbashi who's staying at the same inn. The other characters are all staying at a different inn, but Oosaki meets them pretty soon too (Takeshiba, Shijoumae, Hinode, Aomi and Shiodome). The final character, Toyosu, appears a bit later and mentions he's in charge of the memorial service because the individual who invited them all (who nobody seems to know) couldn't come after all, which leaves everyone confused.

Since this is mentioned in the promotional material and also happens in the trial version, I think it's not really a spoiler to mention that Funeno is the first character who gets killed shortly after this. They decide to perform a ritual to put his spirit to rest, which involves burning a straw figure, though when they finally burn it they discover someone swapped the straw figure with Funeno's body and they end up burning his body instead... Afterwards, Shiodome reveals that they didn't just receive invitation letters, but they also got a letter describing the crimes one of the other attendees committed. They were all swapped, so everyone has a letter that belongs to someone else and knows about their crimes. The orders is as follows: Funeno > Daiba > ??? > Shimbashi > Takeshiba > Aomi > Toyosu > Hinode > Shijoumae > Ariake > Shiodome > Funeno. I guess now we know why Funeno acted so nervous around Oosaki, as he introduced himself as ''Daiba'' and Funeno got Daiba's letter...

Oosaki didn't receive any of these letters from Daiba though, so after they all return the letters to each other, Shimbashi is the only one who doesn't get his own letter, and let's just say he's not too happy about that. This also means that characters who had each other's letters know about their crimes, which is why some of them seem to be rather uncomfortable around each other. Most of the routes branch off a little bit after the scene where the trial version ends, and then the real murder mystery story starts in which they try to figure out who killed Funeno. Someone also destroyed the phone, so now there's no way to contact anyone anymore. At this point Oosaki's of course also suspicious of his client Daiba, because it's clear he was hiding something from him and sent Oosaki to the island without telling him important information.

Personal thoughts Since it’s a murder mystery game you never know which characters to trust, and because characters do die and will be absent throughout the entire route, it was a really suspenseful experience. I was interested in the story from start to finish, which is why I finished it so fast... I can't explain the feeling of dread every time one of the characters announced that something bad had happened, and you're wondering how bad it could really be. Even though the game doesn't show any super gory CGs (the most they'll show is blood), the descriptions are very detailed, so I think even without that it's easy to understand what happened to them. I also liked how the characters who die and survive are different depending on which route you play, so the game really stays interesting in all three routes.

Even though we know a second part of the game is coming, part 1 doesn't feel incomplete at all and the routes work very well on their own! So if you can read Japanese or want to use translation tools, I highly recommend playing this. It took me over 30 hours to finish the game, including the common route which is about 5 hours long, but I do play pretty fast and am already replaying some scenes, so it might be even longer. Also according to a message that came with the game, part 2's data will be free for everyone who buys part 1, so you don't need to buy them separately. I do want the physical version of the game, but I don't mind spending a bit more because the game's only 4400 yen (unlike most VNs which are about 8000-9000 yen).

My personal favorite character is Shimbashi because of his cat-like characteristics and short temper, I guess he's a bit of a tsundere now I think about it, but I also really like the abnormal way he speaks... he's super polite and extremely rude at the same time and I am curious how this would get translated in the English version. My second favorite is probably Ariake, and because he was the first route I expected his route to be good too, since it's the first experience anyone will have with this game after all. The final route is Aomi, who I was pretty neutral about when they showed him in the promotional material, but I really liked him... I should really not underestimate any character in this game because they will prove me wrong, and so far I really like everyone. I suddenly remember when the game was announced they said all the characters are ''straight'' lol, but as expected, so far it just means they haven't been together with another man before. They do not seem to care about Oosaki's gender at all and don't make it a big deal (I also like how there's multiple lines in this game acknowledging other gender identities btw... it's mentioned out of nowhere but I love to see it). If you didn't know btw, the protag of this game is a top, all of the previous Adelta game protagonists were bottoms.

I've always liked the Adelta game artstyle and character designs, but somehow the art in this game looks even better. Every CG in Ooe just looks so beautiful and I can't stop opening the CG gallery to look at it over and over again. As for the eye color... I also have my theories because in previous games this was an important plot element, and even by just looking at the promotional material, it's clear that those with ties to Ooejima are the only characters who have red eyes, so maybe that will be mentioned in the next part? Also every character has their own ending song, similar to what they did with Uuultra C. The game actually has no opening song/movie, but they might be saving that for part 2. The ending songs are so good though at this point I will not even complain.

The references to existing literature in this game are also comparible to the older Adelta titles, for example the caves on the island kind of remind me of the novel "Kotou no Oni" and the game sometimes references Agatha Christie’s "And Then There Were None" too, with Oosaki even owning a copy of the book, and eventually comparing the people on the island to characters in the book. As I mentioned in my first blog post about this game, some of the characters' first names also reference other novel characters. For example, Shiodome’s name is Michio, which is also an important character in "Kotou no Oni", Daiba’s name is Shizuma, which seems to be referencing a character in "Inugami-ke no Ichizoku" or "The Inugami Family" (this applies to the names of his brother and father too), and Funeno’s first name is Kureichirou, which is the name of one of the main characters in "Dogra Magra". In part 1, we learn the first names of a couple of other characters too for the first time, and I do have some theories what these could be referencing, especially Takeshiba's... I also want to know more about Shiodome because I mean, from the beginning it's clear the way he behaves isn't exactly what one would consider "normal", so I wonder how he would interact with Oosaki... Cool-B did preview one of his 18+ scenes and I have many questions. Then of course there's Daiba... he's so suspicious and the promotional material keeps referring to him as a ''side character'' even though he was literally on the cover of Cool-B magazine combined with Oosaki and Ariake, so I have my doubts about that.

Honestly there's so many things I could write about but at this point I might be theorizing too much and not actually reviewing the game, but I really don't want to spoil, so I think that's it for now! Part 2 is scheduled to be released in winter, though I'm not sure if that means December, January or later. You can buy part 1 here though! Please support them. It was mentioned that they are planning to release an English and Chinese version, though any information about that will have to wait until the release of part 2. When part 2 is released I'll write a review about that too!

[37sommz]

❁ : let it linger . . .

✼. masterlist — taglist — request. ✼. genre: fluff. ✼. wc: 7.3k.

the whispered promise of "just daniel" left michaela's lips at the beginning of the season. with the summer break now dawning, she has to do good on her promise.

✼. warnings: language, sexual references, a little suggestive but no smut.

✼. notes: the longest thing i've written in a while. extremely proofread so if there are any errors i will cry. don't think too hard about the dates lmao. i'm posting in chronological order and am relying on wikipedia articles to match it up with the 2021 season.

000.⠀⠀AUGUST 01, 2021    ›    Mogyorod, Hungary.

Michaela stood tall as she waited to be weighed, her lean body baked by the relentless Hungarian sun. Sweat beaded on her brow as she peeled off her racing helmet, revealing her blonde hair plastered to her forehead and beginning to curl from the heat. The roar of engines had faded into the distance, leaving a tense silence in its wake. This was not the performance she had hoped for—not even close. As the dust settled on the Hungaroring, she couldn't help but feel the weight of her lackluster performance at the Hungarian Grand Prix. It was the first time this season she had finished outside the points, and it stung deep.

With a sigh, she stepped away from the scale, her racing suit sticking to her damp skin. Jenson, her well-kept secret and former World Champion, was in the midst of preparing himself for the Sky Sports postrace coverage, his usual sly smile replaced by a look of concern. They shared a brief but knowing glance—there was something they needed to discuss, something they had been putting off for too long.

The press ring was a storm of activity, a blend of languages and camera flashes. Questions flew at her like jump scares, each journalist eager for a dramatic soundbite.

"Michaela, what went wrong today?"

"How do you bounce back from this?"

"Is the pressure getting to you?"

She faced the barrage of questions with a practiced poise that had seen her through countless press conferences. She took a deep breath, her chest rising and falling beneath the tight confines of her McLaren fireproofs, her papaya and blue race suit tied around her waist.

"It's just one race," she replied calmly, a hint of steel in her voice. "We'll review the data, make adjustments, and come back stronger for the next one."

The questions persisted, but her mind was already racing ahead to the looming conversation with Daniel Ricciardo. As she stepped away from the interviewer’s audio recorder, she spotted him weaving through the crowd, his trademark grin plastered on his face despite his own tough race. She felt a flutter of nervousness in her stomach. Their friendship was one of the strongest in the paddock, but she knew that revealing her relationship with Jenson might change things.

"Hey, Mick," Daniel called out, using her favorite nickname. Wrapping her up into a brief hug. She laughed, the tension in her shoulders momentarily easing. "You okay after that?"

Michaela nodded, her eyes meeting Lewis' who mouthed a silent 'You okay?' over Daniel's shoulder. "Yeah, just ready to put it behind me."

"I heard you've got some big plans for the summer break," Daniel said, his eyes twinkling mischievously. "You gonna spill the beans?"

Michaela's cheeks flushed as she felt the weight of her promise return to press at her shoulders. She had promised Jenson that they would tell Daniel about their relationship before the next race in Spa, but the timing had to be perfect. "Well, I might be going out to a very fancy, expensive lunch next week," she said, playing coy. "Would you be interested in joining?"

"Lunch?" Daniel raised an eyebrow. "You know I could never turn down free food." He grinned. "You're paying right?" His dark eyebrows dipped, his mischievous smile remained plastered to his face.

Michaela chuckled, "Anything for you, Ricciardo." She mentally calculated the cost of the meal she had in mind at one of the popular Monaco restaurants. "But there's a catch," she added, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper, "Jenson might be coming too."

The teasing light in Daniel's eyes dimmed slightly, and he studied her. "Okay, what's going on here?"

Michaela feigned ignorance, her heart racing. "What do you mean?"

"You two have been acting weird around each other since the start of the season," Daniel said, his gaze sharp despite the playful tone. "If you're hiding something, I'm gonna need details."

Michaela bit her bottom lip, a nervous habit that had surfaced more frequently in recent weeks. "It's nothing, really," she assured him, her voice a tad too high. "Just... mentor shit."

Daniel raised an eyebrow, his gaze not quite letting her off the hook. "Mentor shit, huh?" He chuckled.

"The best kind of shit," Jenson quipped, walking up to them, a smirk playing on his lips. He slapped Daniel on the back, the sound echoing in the emptying press pen. "You know how these young drivers are, desperately trying to one-up the vets."

Michaela's eyes darted to Jenson, a silent plea for help. He winked at her, understanding her predicament. "It's all in good nature, Daniel. Just making sure she's on top of her game for the rest of the season."

"Is that right?" Daniel looked from Jenson to Michaela, his grin unwavering. "Well, I guess I'll just have to come to this lunch and see what kind of 'mentor shit' you two have been cooking up."

Michaela felt a mix of relief and anxiety. She had successfully diverted Daniel's suspicion—for now. She had invited him to lunch, hoping the casual setting would help ease the revelation she was about to make. But the closer the day grew, the more nervous she became. The week leading up to the lunch was a blur of training sessions, Zoom strategy meetings, and sleepless nights spent rehearsing the conversation in her head.

000.⠀⠀AUGUST 10, 2021    ›    Monte Carlo, Monaco.

The morning of the lunch, she and Jenson met at her Monaco flat, their eyes locked in a silent understanding. Jenson looked at her, his handsome features etched with concern. His strong hands rested on her hips as she typed hurriedly into the laptop laid out in front of her. "Ready for this?" He spoke, face pressing lazy whispered kisses to her soft skin. The early morning light brought a gentle glow to her skin.

Michaela nodded, her stomach doing somersaults. "As ready as I'll ever be."

She wore a flowy, floral dress that hugged her midsection's curves before falling mid-calf. It was rare the McLaren driver felt comfortable enough to be seen in public with anything other than her safe tops and baggy jeans. Perhaps the choice was a testament to the comfort in the sensuality she felt around Jenson.

"He'll be supportive," Jenson murmured, stealing a mint from the bowl that remained untouched during the racing season. 'Too much sugar' is what Michaela would mutter whenever he questioned their pristine appearance upon the kitchen island.

"Yeah," she replied, not entirely convinced. "But it's going to be weird. You know how he gets."

Jenson chuckled, his eyes twinkling with amusement. "Weird? That's just his charm, love."

Michaela couldn't argue with that. Daniel had a way of making every situation seem a little less serious with his infectious humor and laid-back demeanor. It was one of the things she appreciated most about him, but today, she was dreading the potential awkwardness.

The three of them met at an open-air café, a stone's throw from the Monaco harbor. The scent of the sea mingled with the aroma of freshly baked bread and the faint hint of exhaust fumes from the street above. Daniel, dressed in a casual polo and board shorts, looked every bit the off-duty athlete.

They decided to show up separately, a strategic choice that Jenson suggested to ease her nerves. As Michaela approached the two friends and sat down, Daniel couldn't help but notice the ease with which Jenson pulled out her chair, the way their hands brushed, and the private smiles they exchanged. It was more than mentorship, and he felt a twinge of something that wasn't quite jealousy—more like the curiosity of a friend who had missed the plot twist of their favorite show.

"So, what's this big secret?" Daniel prodded, after they had ordered their meals. He leaned back in his chair, his arms folded across his chest.

Michaela took a deep breath, her eyes darting between Daniel and Jenson. "Well, it's not so much a secret as it is..." She trailed off, searching for the right words.

Jenson took the lead, his voice calm and steady. "We've been seeing each other, Daniel. It's been going on for a bit now." His hand found Michaela's underneath the table, giving it a loving squeeze as they both released tense breaths in relief.

The silence that followed was palpable, the only sound the clinking of cutlery and the distant chatter of other patrons. Daniel's eyes grew wide, his jaw hanging slightly. He looked from one to the other, as if expecting a punchline that never came.

"Wait," he finally managed, his eyes narrowing in disbelief. "You two are together? Like, together-together?" His tattooed hands fumbled for a moment before making an obscene gesture. His left index and thumb pressed against each other as his right index repeatedly poked through the small circle.

Michaela couldn't help but laugh at his reaction, while Jenson's smirk grew into a full-blown grin. "Yes, Daniel," she said, rolling her eyes. "Together-together."

"But..." Daniel sputtered, his gaze darting back and forth. "You're old enough to be her dad," He gasped, his words a bit too loud for comfort as Michaela groaned in embarrassment. Jenson could only belly laugh at the alarm in his friend's voice.

"Arse," the Brit muttered in response, quickly flipping the Aussie off as the younger of the two threw his head back with a hearty laugh.

Michaela couldn't help but feel a blush creep up her neck. "It's not like that," she said, her voice slightly defensive. "We met as drivers, not as...you know."

"Yeah? Not as," Daniel said, his voice trailing off as he tried to process the information. "Sugar baby, sugar daddy?"

Michaela's face flushed further, but she couldn't help the giggle that bubbled up from her chest. "You're such an idiot," she said, taking her turn to flip the Aussie off.

Jenson's laughter subsided, and he leaned in closer to Daniel, his expression growing serious. "Look, mate, it's not about age. It's about... well, you know, the spark."

Michaela's gaze softened as she looked at Jenson, and Daniel couldn't help but see it—the way her eyes lit up when she talked about him, the subtle blush that painted her cheeks. He felt a pang of something akin to protectiveness, but he also knew that his friends were grown adults capable of making their own decisions.

"Okay, okay," Daniel said, holding up his hands in surrender. "I get it." He took a sip of his water, the ice clinking against the glass. "But why keep it from me?"

Michaela glanced at Jenson, her eyes pleading for help. "Well, we weren't sure how everyone would take it," she admitted. "And I didn't want to distract from my season."

Jenson nodded in agreement, his thumb rubbing small circles on the back of her hand. "It's a tough business," he said, his voice carrying a hint of warning. "But we felt it was time to be honest with someone. So we picked you."

Before Daniel could process Jenson’s plea, Michaela added a caveat of her own. “We’re taking our time telling everyone personally.” 

When Daniel’s head cocked in a silent question that Jenson couldn’t quite catch, Michaela answered it immediately in recognition. 

“Courtney’s known for a while now. I swore her to secrecy, asked that she keep it between us.”

The tension at the table began to ease as Daniel studied them. The camaraderie between them was clear, the way they interacted was familiar yet filled with a newfound intimacy. He sighed, a genuine smile spreading across his face. "Fine, I won't say anything," he promised. "But you owe me details, you know."

Michaela laughed nervously, "I'm not sure that's necessary."

"Oh, it absolutely is," Daniel retorted, his grin widening. "But, in all seriousness, if you're happy, I'm happy. And you do seem... different."

Michaela felt the corners of her mouth tug upward at the observation. It was true, she had felt more relaxed since she and Jenson had started seeing each other. The weight of her performance at the Hungarian Grand Prix had been significantly lessened by his support.

"What do you mean, different?" she asked, cocking her head to the side.

"More... at ease, I guess," Daniel said, his gaze searching her face. "It's like you've got a secret no one else knows, and it's just making you glow."

Michaela felt her cheeks warm at his words. She had never thought of herself as someone who glowed, but with Jenson beside her, she couldn't deny the truth in Daniel's observation. She leaned into Jenson slightly, his arm wrapping around her shoulders in a comforting embrace.

"She does have a glow, doesn't she?" Jenson mused, his eyes darting over the figure of the embarrassed McLaren driver.

Michaela playfully elbowed him in the ribs, a gesture that seemed to make him chuckle more than anything. "Shut up," she murmured, her eyes not leaving Daniel's. She was eager to gauge his true feelings, to understand if their friendship would remain unchanged by this revelation.

The conversation grew more relaxed as they shared stories of their past racing experiences and the occasional teasing remark about their current situation. Daniel's curiosity was evident, his eyes flickering between them as if attempting to assess the situation, but it was a gentle, caring curiosity rather than one of judgment. The laughter that filled the air was genuine, a testament to the strength of their bond.

As the meal wound down, Daniel leaned back in his chair, a satisfied sigh escaping his lips. "Alright, I can't say I'm not surprised, but I'm happy for you two." He paused, a mischievous glint in his eye. "But now, I need to know—how did this happen?"

Michaela's eyes darted to Jenson, unable to hold his gaze for long before the heat in his eyes left her feeling vulnerable. "Well, it started in Tuscany last season," she began, her voice low and measured. "And, you know, one thing led to another."

Jenson chuckled, his hand moving to rest on her thigh. The action sent a rush of butterflies in the pit of her stomach. "It's not quite that simple," Jenson said, his voice filled with warmth. "But it's definitely been an adventure."

Michaela felt a sense of relief wash over her as Daniel nodded, his expression thoughtful. "Okay, okay," he drawled, his eyes darting between them. "But you're actually, like, dating?"

Jenson's hand tightened around her thigh under the table. "Yeah, mate," he said, his voice a little rough around the edges. "We are."

Michaela felt a swell of affection for Jenson, the way he was handling this with his usual grace under pressure. She took a deep breath and prepared herself for the next round of questions, hoping they wouldn't be too intrusive.

"So, when did you two officially, you know, become boyfriend and girlfriend?" Daniel asked, his tone light, but the curiosity in his voice was unmistakable.

Michaela felt a jolt of surprise. She and Jenson had never actually used those labels with each other, caught up in the whirlwind of secret meetups and stolen kisses between race weekends. She looked to Jenson, who returned her gaze with a hint of amusement. "Well," she began.

"It was a couple of weeks ago," Jenson interjected smoothly, saving her from further awkwardness. "After her win in Baku. We had a heart-to-heart after celebrating, and decided it was the right step for us."

Michaela nodded, the memory of their passionate night in Azerbaijan still vivid. She felt a thrill run through her as she heard Jenson refer to her as his girlfriend for the first time.

"So, you guys are official, huh?" Daniel said, raising his eyebrows. "Interesting."

Michaela felt a twinge of annoyance at the word "interesting"—it was always code for "I think this is fucking hilarious." But she took a deep breath and decided to just let him digest the information. "Yeah, we are," she said firmly, her voice steady despite her speeding thoughts.

"And you guys are, like, serious?" Daniel pressed, his eyes searching for any signs of doubt.

Michaela nodded firmly. "Yes, Daniel, we're serious. It's not just some fling." She tried to keep the defensiveness out of her voice, but it was clear she was more invested in this than she had let on.

"Alright, alright," Daniel held up his hands in a gesture of peace. "I'm just saying, you guys are pretty... intense together."

Michaela and Jenson exchanged a look that was a mix of amusement and affection. "We know," she said with a small laugh. "But it works for us."

Daniel leaned forward, his elbows on the table. "Well, I'm happy for you. But you know, I gotta ask," he paused, his eyes sparkling with mischief. "What's the juiciest bit of gossip you can give me? Something to take my mind off my own shit season."

Michaela shot him a glare, but Jenson chuckled. "You always know how to lighten the mood, don't you?"

"It's a gift," Daniel replied, a smug smile playing on his lips.

The waiter arrived with their food, a plate of linguine for Daniel, a Nicoise salad for Jenson, and a light risotto for Michaela. The aroma of garlic and white wine filled the air as the waiter served their meals with a flourish.

"Alright, if you want juicy," Jenson began, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper, "We did have quite the scandal in Austria."

Michaela's eyes widened in horror, "Jenson, you can't—"

"Oh, come on, love," Jenson said, a teasing smirk playing on his lips as he picked up his fork. "It's just a bit of harmless fun. Besides, it's not like we're going to tell him everything."

Michaela shot him a look that clearly said she was not amused, but the corner of her mouth twitched in a suppressed smile. She couldn't help but be drawn in by his charm, even when he was pushing her buttons. She took a sip of her wine, feeling the cool liquid wash down her throat. "Fine," she relented. "But only if you promise not to give him too much detail."

Jenson's eyes sparkled with mischief as he leaned closer to Daniel. "So, in Austria, we had a bit of a... situation," he said, his voice dropping to a whisper once again.

Michaela rolled her eyes, knowing exactly where this was heading. "You don't have to—"

"Too late," Daniel interrupted, his eyes gleaming. "Spill it, Button."

Jenson took a bite of his salad, savoring the moment. "Well, it was the night after qualifying. We had some...spirited celebrations, shall we say?"

Michaela couldn't help but laugh, remembering the wild night in question. "Spirited?" she echoed, raising an eyebrow. "That's one way to put it."

"Okay, okay," Jenson conceded, his grin unabashed. "It was a bit more than that. We had a bit too much to drink, and somehow ended up skinny dipping in the hotel’s pool."

Michaela's cheeks grew hot at the memory. She had been the one to suggest it, feeling wild and free in the moonlit water. "It was just a bit of fun," she protested, her voice a mix of embarrassment and defense.

"Oh, come on," Daniel leaned in, his eyes wide with excitement. "That's not the juicy part. What happened next?"

Michaela's eyes narrowed playfully at Jenson. "You tell it," she said, her voice a challenge.

Jenson took another bite of his salad, chewing slowly before speaking. "Well, after our little swim, we realized the security cameras had caught us in our...less than professional state."

"Oh my god," Daniel whispered, his eyes wide with excitement. "You're kidding."

Michaela couldn't help but chuckle at Daniel's reaction. "It's true," she said, her cheeks still flushed. "But we managed to bribe the hotel staff to delete the footage before it could go anywhere."

"Bribe them with what?" Daniel asked, his curiosity piqued.

"Let's just say I have my ways," Jenson responded with a wink, taking a sip of his water.

Michaela's eyes danced with amusement as she watched Daniel's jaw drop. "So, you're telling me you two have been fucking around, keeping secrets, and now you're just going to sit here and not tell me the full story?"

Jenson's laugh was rich and deep, a sound that made her heart flutter. "You know how it is, Daniel," he said, his voice a purr. "Some things are just for us." His words were accented by a heavy stroke of her thigh in his hand.

Michaela took a bite of her risotto, feeling the comfort of Jenson's body connected to hers. The conversation flowed easily, and she was surprised at how natural it felt to have Daniel in on their secret. The tension from earlier had dissipated, and Jenson and Daniel were back to their usual banter.

"So, what do we do now?" Daniel asked, his gaze flicking between them as he twirled his linguine around his fork. "Do we pretend like nothing's changed?"

Michaela swallowed a mouthful of her risotto, the creamy bite lingering on her tongue. "We don't have to pretend," she said, her voice firm. "But we do need to be careful."

"Understood," Daniel nodded, his eyes flickering between them. "But I can't lie, it's going to be weird seeing you two apart at the track."

Michaela felt a pang of anxiety. "I’ve been avoiding him like the plague whenever he’s got his Sky lanyard on," she assured him, her voice slightly defensive. "We know the stakes."

"It's not that," Daniel said, waving his fork dismissively. "It's just... you know, the paddock gossip can be a bitch."

Jenson's grip tightened on her leg, a silent reminder that they had agreed to keep their relationship low-key until she had secured her place in the team. "We'll be professional," he assured him. "It won't affect anything."

"Good," Daniel said, pointing his fork at them both. "Because I need you on the grid, Sommers. We all do."

Michaela nodded, the tension in her neck easing slightly. "You've got it."

000.⠀⠀AUGUST 23, 2021    ›    London, UK.

Michaela stirred in the early morning light, the soft hum of London traffic outside Jenson's flat lulling her into consciousness. Her blonde hair attempted to peak out of her silk scarf. The crisp, white pillow, drawing an intimate contrast to the brown skin of her bare shoulder. Jenson's arm was slung across her waist, his chest rising and falling steadily with each breath. She felt the warmth of his breath against her neck as he pressed a gentle kiss to her skin.

"Mm, it's too early," she murmured, her voice thick with sleep.

"It's only early because we had such a late night," Jenson replied with a grin, his voice a low rumble. He sat up, the sheets pooling around his waist, revealing the tanned muscles of his torso and the tattoos scattered across his skin. His blues eyes squinted in the light despite the shimmer of playfulness behind them.

Michaela groaned, her hand flying up to cover her eyes. "That wasn't entirely my fault. You're insatiable, love."

He chuckled, the sound reverberating through the room, and leaned in for another kiss. "I can't help it when you're irresistible." He hopped out of bed, his bare feet landing softly on the plush carpet. "Come on, let's go for a run. Clear our heads before we start the day."

Michaela groaned again, rolling over to bury her face in the pillow. "How about I cook you the most amazing breakfast instead?"

Jenson's grin grew wider. "Now that's an offer I can't refuse." He leaned over her, planting a firm kiss on her forehead before pulling her up and into his arms. "But only if you let me help."

Michaela's eyes lit up as Jenson lifted her bridal style. "Deal." She giggled, resting her head against his chest.

They padded into the en-suite bathroom, the scent of mint toothpaste and Michaela's favorite shower gel—a new addition to Jenson's shower caddy—filling the air. The shower washed away the lingering drowsiness of the night before, leaving them refreshed. Jenson's hands were everywhere, teasing and caressing, and despite her initial protests, she found herself responding to his playfulness. After a few more giggling reprimands, she managed to break free and stepped out of the shower first, wrapping a soft towel around her. She searched the closet for one of Jenson's shirts to wear, feeling a strange sense of comfort in the oversized garment.

In the kitchen, Jenson watched as she moved with ease, her long legs on comfortable display beneath the hem of the shirt. He leaned against the counter, sipping his coffee, enjoying the view. It wasn't often that Michaela got a chance to cook for Jenson who had a habit of pampering her endlessly during their rare moments of domestic peace. But as she hummed through her ingredient prep, she couldn't help but feel a rush of satisfaction that he had chosen to take a backseat that morning.

"What can I do?" he asked out of obligation. His eyes followed the hidden lines of her athletic curves that he had committed to memory, his tone revealing the half-hearted offer of help.

Michaela's laughter filled the room as she beckoned him over before placing a cutting board in front of him. "You can keep your hands to yourself, for starters." She pointed to the ingredients laid out on the counter. "And maybe chop the veggies for the omelet?"

Jenson feigned innocence, his eyes dancing as he took the apron. "Fine, but I expect a taste-test of everything." His knife skills were surprisingly good, a testament to his days spent preparing quick meals for Myla in the lulls of his busy schedule.

Michaela couldn't help but smile as she cracked eggs into a bowl, the sound echoing in the kitchen. "Anything for you, babe," she said, turning to face him, her own mug of coffee in hand. They worked in comfortable silence, their movements in sync despite their different tasks. The occasional pop of oil from the pan had her jumping back with a laugh, only to be caught in Jenson's arms again, the warmth of his embrace bringing her a sense of comfort she had come to crave.

As they danced around each other in the kitchen, Jenson's phone rang out, the screen displaying his mother's contact photo. "It's my mum," he murmured, his eyes flicking to the clock. "She never calls this early."

Michaela's movement paused as she observed the hesitation in Jenson's eyes, the omelet mixture momentarily forgotten. "Oh, you should answer."

He sighed, swiping the phone off the counter and hitting the decline button. "It can wait. I've got things to focus on right now." His gaze settled on her, the innuendo in his tone unmistakable.

Michaela playfully rolled her eyes, swatting his hand away as he reached for her waist. "We have breakfast to cook, remember?" She poured the egg mixture into the sizzling pan, the aroma of onions and bell peppers wafting through the room.

The phone rang again, the same name lighting up the screen. "Maybe it's important," Michaela said, turning down the heat in an effort to encourage her boyfriend to pick up his mother's call.

Jenson's eyes sighed playfully, but he knew she was right. He answered the call, keeping his voice low as not to interrupt the breakfast preparations. "Hi Mum, everything okay?"

Michaela listened to his responses as she slowly cooked their food on low heat, trying to ignore the sudden tension in his voice. He spoke quickly, nodding, his eyes flicking towards the door.

"We’re alright.”

“No, she's not here.”

“Holiday with Blair’s parents.”

“Yes, I'll tell her.”

“No, I don't need any help with... you're here?"

He turned to look at Michaela, his eyes wide with surprise and a touch of annoyance. Michaela's brown eyes widened in a similar response, mouthing 'She's here?' back to him, receiving a resigned nod in reply.

"But I thought..." He trailed off, listening. "Okay, okay, give me a sec." He ended the call and placed the phone back on the counter with a thud.

Michaela's heart was racing as she flipped the omelet before completely shutting off the stove. "Your mum's here?" she whispered, her sock-covered feet frantically carrying her to the small area Jenson had set aside for her within his closet. Her manicured hands hurriedly brushed various dresses and slinky lingerie aside, searching for a respectable piece of clothing she could throw on instead. She had met Simone only once before, and the idea of being caught in Jenson's shirt, cooking breakfast, was not the impression she had wanted to make.

"Apparently, she had it in her head that Myla was with me," Jenson replied as he appeared in the doorway of his closet, a hint of exasperation in his voice. He pulled her closer, kissing her cheek. "Don't worry, she's been eager to see you again."

Michaela's eyes darted to the door as she frantically searched for her clothes. "Again? We only met once, Jenson Alexander." The use of his full name instead of the typical nickname or term of endearment brought an amused chuckle out of him.

"Trust me, she'll love you even more after seeing you in this state." He smirked, his eyes glinting mischievously.

Michaela shot him a glare, her heart was racing with anxious nerves. She slipped into her own clothes, a pair of Nike shorts and an out-of-place McLaren t-shirt that she hoped would be acceptable for an unplanned breakfast with her boyfriend's mother. Jenson's reassurance did little to ease her anxiety as she heard the door unlock down the hall.

"Coming in," Simone's cheery voice echoed through the flat, followed by the sound of the door closing.

Michaela's heart thundered in her chest as she smoothed out the wrinkles in her shirt and took a deep breath, trying to compose herself. She stepped out of the bedroom to find Simone standing in the hallway, her eyes immediately drawn to the smell of the half-cooked breakfast. 

"Oh, how lovely!" Simone exclaimed, her eyes lighting up at the sight of the planned spread. She looked between Jenson and Michaela, her expression a delightful mix of amusement and surprise.

"I didn't expect to find you both up so early," Simone said, her cheekbones rising in a knowing smile.

Michaela felt the heat of a blush creep up her neck. She knew exactly what Simone was insinuating, and she couldn't help but feel a bit embarrassed. "I just wanted to cook something nice for Jenson," she said, her voice quieter than she intended.

"And you've done a marvelous job, darling," Simone said, walking into the kitchen with a grace that seemed to defy the early hour. She was dressed casually yet oddly impeccably intentional. Her blonde hair was pulled back in a sleek ponytail, and she wore a light-colored floor-length sundress.

Michaela felt a sudden wave of relief wash over her as she saw the affection in Simone's eyes. She had always known that Jenson's mother had a flair for the dramatic, but she had never seen this side of her before. "Thank you, Simone," she managed to say, her voice steadying. "I hope you're hungry."

Simone took a seat at the kitchen island, her eyes gleaming with curiosity. "More than you know, dear," she said, her gaze flickering to the phone in Jenson's hand. "I must apologize, I truly did believe Myla was with you this morning, Jense."

Jenson shrugged nonchalantly. "It's fine, Mum. She's with Blair's family on holiday."

Michaela busied herself with plating the omelets, placing a slice of toast and a dollop of chilled butter next to each one. She felt Simone's eyes on her, and she hoped she didn't look as flustered as she felt. "Would you like some breakfast?" she offered, her voice a bit too bright.

"Oh, absolutely," Simone said, her smile warm and genuine. "It smells heavenly."

Michaela felt a pulse of satisfaction as she served Simone, watching as she took a bite. The flavors of the omelet danced together, a blend of cheese, peppers, and onions that had been roasted to perfection. Simone's eyes closed in appreciation, and she nodded. "I fear I'll have to take drastic measures if Jense messes things up for you two, my dear. I might starve."

Jenson chuckled, sliding into a chair next to his mother. "Mum, you're terrible."

Michaela couldn't help but smile at Simone's antics, feeling a little more at ease. "It's okay, I've got him under control." She winked at Jenson, who rolled his eyes playfully.

"So, how did you two lovebirds spend your night?" Simone asked, sipping her coffee, her gaze knowing as it darted between them, eager for details.

Michaela felt her cheeks redden as she passed Jenson a plate, avoiding eye contact with his mother. "Just had a quiet dinner in," she said, hoping her voice didn't betray the memories of their very long night.

Jenson took the plate, his thumb brushing against her hand in a silent gesture of reassurance. "It was nice, actually. Just what we needed before everything kicks up again."

Simone nodded, her eyes softening. "Ah, yes. The second half of your season is around the corner." Her eyes were kind as she glanced up at Michaela from the food in front of her. She took another bite of her omelet, savoring it. "Myla talked about you non-stop after Silverstone, you know," she said to Michaela, her voice filled with warmth. "Such a bright girl, she is. You've made quite the impression on her."

Michaela felt her heart swell with affection for Myla and a newfound confidence. "I had a wonderful time with her. She's absolutely adorable."

"Oh, she thinks the world of you too," Simone said with a knowing smile. "And she's quite the little race fan. Can't get enough of watching her dad's endurance races, but she's been asking more about yours."

Michaela felt a rush of nerves at the mention of Myla. Despite her young age, she knew the girl's opinion would hold a significant weight in Jenson's life. She hoped she could live up to the expectations of being a good role model and a potential permanent figure in her life.

Jenson calmly echoed his mother's sentiments. "Myla's pretty smitten with you." He took a bite of his omelet, his eyes never leaving hers. "I can't seem to separate her from that signed cap you gave her." An unspoken question hung in the air—when would they tell Myla about their relationship?

Michaela's heart skipped a beat. "It's a lot for a seven-year-old to understand, isn't it?" she mused, her voice tinged with a hint of insecurity.

Simone set her fork down, her eyes warm and understanding. "It can be, but Myla's quite the bright little girl. You've got nothing to worry about."

Michaela took a sip of her coffee, the warmth spreading through her. "I just don't want to mess it up for her. She's been through enough with the divorce."

Simone's eyes grew serious. "You won't," she said firmly. "What you two have is different from the circumstances that drew Jenson and Blair together. Besides," she winked, "I've already told her that you'll be around more often."

Michaela felt her stomach flip, the unspoken implication that Simone had already accepted her as part of the family. She took a deep breath, trying to calm her racing thoughts.

"So, when do you think you'll tell her?" Simone's voice was casual, but there was an underlying curiosity that couldn't be ignored.

Michaela and Jenson shared a look, both knowing that the question had been hovering over them for a while. "We've actually been thinking about it a lot recently," Jenson said, his hand finding hers under the table. "We just want to make sure it's the right time."

"And that she's able to understand what that might mean in the future," Michaela added, her voice barely above a whisper.

Simone nodded sagely. "You know, I think she's more perceptive than either of you give her credit for. But timing is everything. Make sure it's right for all three of you."

Michaela took a deep breath, her heart pounding with both excitement and nerves. The thought of becoming a part of Jenson's family, of being a role model for Myla, filled her with a mix of joy and responsibility she hadn't anticipated.

"We will," Jenson assured her, giving her hand a gentle squeeze. "We'll sit her down when she gets back, tell her we've been seeing each other, and that we're serious."

Michaela nodded, her eyes glistening with a mix of hope and trepidation. She had met Myla only two weeks ago, and while the little girl had been sweet and curious, she knew that dropping the 'girlfriend' bombshell could be overwhelming for a child of her age.

Simone, seemingly reading her thoughts, offered her own take. "Myla's a smart girl, she'll understand more than you think." She took a sip of her coffee, her eyes never leaving the young couple. "But you're right to be cautious. She's still figuring out the world, and you're a new piece of the puzzle she'll need to fit in."

Michaela nodded, the gravity of the situation weighing heavily on her shoulders. Jenson's hand remained a steady presence under the table, his thumb tracing gentle circles on her palm.

"And remember," Simone continued, her voice gentle, "It's not just about how she feels now, but how she'll feel when she's older. You both have demanding careers, and it's essential she feels loved and secure between all the travel and chaos."

Michaela nodded solemnly, the gravity of the situation sinking in. She had never felt more connected to Jenson than in that moment, knowing they were about to embark on this new chapter together. "We'll take it slow," he promised, squeezing her hand.

The conversation flowed easily after that, with Simone sharing stories about Myla's latest adventures and her own travels. As the breakfast dishes were cleared away, Jenson suggested they all sit in the living room to chat more comfortably.

Michaela felt a wave of anxiety wash over her as she took her place on the couch next to Jenson. The thought of being an official part of his life, of being a constant in Myla's life, was a concept she hadn't fully digested yet. But as she watched him interact with his mother, she realized that she had already been accepted into his world, even if it was just in small, unspoken ways.

Jenson's phone began to ring again, this time the 'Blair' contact lacked a profile picture but the name was more than enough to make him sit up. "It must be Myla with her daily check-in," he said, a hint of excitement in his voice. He took the call, his expression immediately softening as he talked to his daughter.

Michaela took the opportunity to sit next to Simone, her mind racing with thoughts of how she would fit into Myla's life. Simone, seemingly aware of her inner turmoil, placed a comforting hand on her knee. "Don't worry, darling," she said, her voice a gentle purr. "Jenson might not say it, but he's absolutely smitten with you. And you're already making him happier than I've seen him in a long, long time."

Michaela couldn't help the smile that spread across her face. Hearing that from Jenson's own mother meant the world to her. She watched as Jenson chatted with Myla, his voice filled with love and warmth. It was clear that he was a devoted father, and she knew that she had big shoes to fill.

Simone leaned in closer to her. "He talks about you constantly, you know," she whispered conspiratorially. "Every time we're on the phone, he finds a way to bring you up."

Michaela felt a warm blush spread across her cheeks. "Really?"

"Oh, yes," Simone said, her eyes sparkling with mischief. "He's like a teenager experiencing his first crush. It's quite adorable, actually."

Michaela couldn't help but laugh at the image, feeling a swell of affection for Jenson. She watched him as he talked to Myla, his tone light and playful. She could see the joy in his eyes, the way his face lit up at the sound of his daughter's voice. It was clear that Myla was the center of his world, and she knew that she would have to tread carefully to ensure she didn't disrupt the delicate balance of their lives.

As Jenson spoke with Myla, Simone leaned in closer, her hand still resting on Michaela's knee. "You're going to be a wonderful influence on her, you know," she said with a knowing smile. "Jenson does his best, all things considered. And Blair... well, she's trying to rebuild their relationship. But you have a clean slate, a chance to be someone Myla looks up to, someone she can confide in, and learn from."

Michaela felt the weight of Simone's words, her heart swelling with a mix of excitement and fear. "I hope so," she murmured. "I just want to be there for her."

"And you will be," Simone assured her. "Just be yourself, and she'll continue being your biggest fan. Children are more intuitive than we give them credit for. They know when someone cares for their parents and for them."

Michaela nodded, her eyes still fixed on Jenson as he chuckled at something Myla said. She couldn't imagine a future without him and Myla in it. The thought of becoming a family, even in a non-traditional sense, filled her with warmth.

Jenson wrapped up their conversation and handed the phone to Simone. "Alright, I've had my fill of cuteness for the day," he said, leaning back into the couch and wrapping an arm around Michaela. She snuggled into his side, feeling more at ease with each passing moment.

Michaela watched as Simone's face lit up as she talked to her granddaughter. It was clear the bond between them was strong, and she hoped that she could one day share that kind of closeness with Myla too.

As the conversation on the phone grew more animated, Jenson leaned in and whispered, "Myla's been asking me about when she'll get to see you again."

Michaela's heart skipped a beat at the mention of her name. She felt a warmth spread through her, and she knew that she was ready to take this step with Jenson, regardless of the challenges that might lie ahead.

"What did you tell her?" Michaela asked with a sparkle in her eyes.

Jenson grinned, his arm tightening around her. "That she'd see you very soon." He leaned in to press a kiss to her forehead, his breath warm against her skin. "I just wanted to run it by you before I told her anything concrete."

Michaela felt a knot in her stomach loosen at his consideration. She turned to look at him, her eyes searching for any sign of doubt. "You're sure?"

Jenson nodded, his eyes full of love and confidence. "More than ever."

Michaela's smile grew as she leaned into his embrace, feeling his heartbeat against her cheek. "I can't wait," she murmured, her voice filled with genuine excitement.

Simone ended her call with Myla, her eyes shining. "Looks like things are going well with Blair’s parents," she said, handing the phone back to Jenson.

"Better than expected," he admitted, slipping the phone into his pocket. "But we've still got a way to go before everyone's happy."

Michaela nodded, understanding the complexities of co-parenting. She had overheard the occasional tension between Jenson and Blair, but she had always remained respectful of their history. Simone patted her hand. "You're going to be a fantastic addition to our little family," she said warmly.

Jenson looked over at her with a soft smile, his eyes speaking volumes. "We're all going to be just fine," he said, and Michaela believed him.

✼. taglist:⠀

@cha-hot @certifiedlesbianbaddie @nichmeddar

@d3kstar @thewannabewriter @hwalllllllelujah

@thearchieves @doodlehunz @evie-119

@bxdbxtxh @seaweed-orchid @glitterquadricorn

@99snse @ginghampearlsnsweettea @alliwantisadonut

@hiireadstuff @emilyval1 @anotherblackreader

@sv5beehives @mynameisangeloflife @tellybearyyyy

@melancholyy-hill @valluvsu @futuristiccroissantlampsludge

@treehouse-mouse @sunfairyy

[meggletoomanyfandoms]

Valentines Day!

(Not my gif!)

Alastor x Fem!Reader

Summary- Valentines Day is coming up and Charlie has decided to incorporate the holiday and use it to create an exercise to bring the hotel staff and residents closer together!

Word count- 1,625

TW- None really. Alastor fluff, super sweet!

Not proofread, there may be some spelling/grammar mistakes!

Author's Note- This might just be the sweetest thing I've written in forever! I can't wait to write more for Alastor, as I had so much fun writing this one! I am also taking requests, feel free to send one in!

“Alright everyone! So for today’s lesson, I thought it would be fun if we did something for Valentine's Day!” Charlie excitedly said, clapping her hands together with a big smile on her face, “This could be great to strengthen our bonds and help us get to know each other better!” You looked around the room and could see the other’s weren’t too happy about this, especially Angel.

“Look, do we really gotta do this?” he asked, rolling his eyes, “Noone hardly even celebrates that holiday here.” 

“True that may be, I still think this would be a great lesson and exercise for us all!” Charlie grinned, ��Okay, so what I was thinking is we draw names from this bowl and whoever you get is the one you have to make a valentine for and deliver them at the end of the day!” 

“And what are we supposed to be making?” Husk shook his head, “I gotta agree with Angel on this one, I think this is stupid…” You looked at Charlie who now had pleading eyes.

“Oh come now, this should definitely prove interesting,” Alastor said, his wide grin unfaltering. 

“Uhm.. I think this could actually be fun..” Charlie grinned and grabbed you into a big hug.

“Oh thank you, thank you!” she let you go and stuck the bowl with the names written on folded pieces of paper in it, “Here y/n, you can pick first!” 

You gulped but then stuck your hand in the bowl and grabbed one of the small sheets of paper, “Alrighty now, don’t tell us who it is! Simply make them a gift and give it to them!”

“What's the point of doing this if we’re not going to be sharing it with the rest of the group?” Angel asked as Charlie passed the bowl on, now holding it out in front of him. 

“I was thinking that we are always doing group activities so I thought that maybe this time we could do something sort of one on one! And if you’d all like, we can always share it with each other later!” 

You waited until Charlie finished passing the bowl around and everyone went to draw names., “Now everyone, see who you got!” she excitedly said as she unfolded the small piece of paper in her hands. With a racing heart, you followed suit and did the same. When you read the name on the small piece of paper your eyes instantly widened and your heart began racing.

Alastor. 

You immediately looked up to find a certain radio demon eyeing you and grinning, and after a few seconds he turned and made his way out the door. Around you you could hear a few sighs coming from the others but your thoughts drowned them out. What were you supposed to make for Alastor?You hadn’t really even spoken to the demon since you’d started staying here a few weeks ago; he really kept his distance from you and you from him. In all honesty, he kind of frightened you a bit as everything about him was so mysterious.

Sighing you made your way upstairs and into your room. You started rummaging through what few things you had in your drawer, hoping for any sort of idea to pop into your head but… Nothing. Not a damn thing. You rubbed your hands over your face and sighed once again until something at the bottom of your drawer caught your eye.

Red ribbon? You thought for a moment and grabbed it, an idea immediately popping into your mind. It won’t be anything big but it’s the best you’ve got…

--------- 

Putting the last few finishing touches on his Alastor’s gift, you felt kind of proud of yourself for making his gift. You managed to find a small box to put it in and now you just had to deliver it. Feeling suddenly nervous, you held the small box tightly in your hands as you made his way to his room. You stopped in front of his door and took a deep breath, then knockers slowly on his door.

“Come in, come in!” he said, static clinging to his voice. You did as he said and slowly opened his door to find him sitting at his table in his, er, swamp that connected to his bedroom? Yep, definitely mysterious…

“Oh my dear!” he said, standing up and making his way over to you, “yes I thought it was you got my name from the bowl!” You nodded.

“I did,” you said, “And I uhm, made you a gift but Alastor it’s not the greatest thing-” before you could finish speaking he simply shushed you.

“Now now, dear girl! I’m sure whatever you’ve made is marvelous indeed!” he held out his hands, “May I see it?” You handed the small box over to him and watched as he lifted the lid and tossed it to the floor. His smile didn't change a bit as he pulled the bright red bow out of the box and inspected it.

“I thought that maybe you'd like to put on your uhm, microphone thing? To uhh.. Liven it up a bit?” you felt your cheeks heating up instantly as you spoke aloud, what an awful gift! You could have made him literally anything else,  but this is what you came up with? 

“Thank you!” he said, sticking the ribbon onto his cane, just below the microphone, “this was a well thought out gift indeed!” You were surprised and were going to question him when he spoke again.

“For your gift my dear, we’ll have to take the long road if that is alright with you!” You shook your head.

“Uhm, Alastor I think you’re supposed to give a gift to the person whose name you drawn, not me-”

“Well whose name do you think I drew?” he said, reaching into his pocket and handing you a small white sheet of paper. Your eyes widened when you saw your own name written on the paper. He held out his arm to you, “Would you please accompany me?” You hesitated but finally took his arm and followed where he led you. 

His radio tower. You’d never been in there before- actually, you don’t think anyone except Alastor himself had been. “My gift is up here?” you asked him. He nodded his head and pointed to a seat, “Won’t you please sit, my dear?” Hesitantly, you did as he asked and sat in the chair. You watched as he took a seat at his desk and began speaking into his microphone. 

“Good evening, ladies and gentlemen,” he said, still grinning from ear to ear, “For tonight’s broadcast, I do have something special planned indeed..” You watched as he spoke and then, like it was absolutely nothing a.. Piano materialized in the room? Instead of him sitting at a desk he was now sitting in front of the instrument. 

“Yes yes, usually my broadcast’s are a bit more.. Different from the one I have planned for tonight, but ah, it is almost Valentine’s Day indeed so I thought to myself, tonight and tonight only, my dear listeners, I shall sing you a song,” he said, making sure to look directly at you with the last thing he said. It was then that he started playing the piano and you watched as his fingers effortlessly flew across the keys and then he began singing..

You instantly recognized the song, ‘La Vie En Rose’ and you were, well, most definitely caught off guard but also you were amazed. He had the sweetest singing voice and, since when did he know how to play the piano? The Alastor you knew was a ruthless soul whose only goal you thought was making deals and stealing other’s souls, but this? Maybe you really didn’t know Alastor, perhaps there was so much more to him then you had realized. 

He finished up the song and piano de-materialized and his desk reappeared, he continued on with his broadcast and you sat by him until he was finished. 

“And with that, dearest listeners, I shall bid you goodnight until next time..” he said, finishing his broadcast and then turning to look at you, still grinning from ear to ear. 

“I do hope you liked your gift, my dear,” he said to you, “Perhaps it wasn’t what you had in mind but I do hope you still enjoyed it.”

“Alastor, since when could you sing like that? And play piano?” you questioned, “Oh! Yes I did enjoy it, so much.. Nobody has ever done something like that for me.” 

“Ah my dear, there is so much that you don’t know about me,” he said, taking your hand and then kissing the top of it. You felt your cheeks begin to heat up as he did so, “Shall we go back to the others now?” You nodded your head.

“Uhm, y-yes Alastor,” you agreed, following him out of the radio tower and back down to the hotel to meet up with the others. 

BONUS:

In the hotel a radio sits upon Husks bar and is playing a certain radio demons podcast, with everyone gathered around it and listening intently. 

“Is that..?” Charlie questioned, turning one of the dials to turn up the volume. 

“Didn’t know the guy could sing, “Angel said, crossing his arms in front of his chest, “Who woulda guessed..” Husk rolled his eyes, taking a cloth and wiping out one of his glasses. 

“I seriously can’t believe it,” Vaggie said, turning to Charlie whose eyes were now tearing up, “Charlie?” 

“He has the most beautiful voice,” she said, now crying. Vaggie rolled her eyes but took her girlfriend into a hug, patting her back to calm her.

[aettuddae]

hole in one — extras : 1.

⌕ synopsis: at one of the most prestigious universities in the country, where everyone is battling to be the center of attention, yu jimin is just a regular. people want her because of her beauty, but all she cares about is sharing her freaky stuff with her friends and passing her subjects. although there's one thing that might push her out of her comfort zone, revenge. when nakamura kazuha, one of the richest and most well-known students of NCU, starts to spread gossip about her for thousands of followers to see, jimin decides to get back by taking away the thing kazuha cares about the most: her perfect girlfriend, the young golf star, kwon haru.

masterlist | chapter 1

[half written chapter]

her elbows resting on the bistro counter, her eyes scanning the menu. the girl with long brown hair looked confused, still unfamiliar with the place after having only been there for two weeks. it was the first time that she approached one of the several options that the club offered for eating. she didn't want anything too heavy, but the light dishes that she had in front of her eyes didn't appeal to her at all. she had been reading and rereading the sheet that had been given to her for a couple of minutes, without reaching any resolution.

“oh! you have to try the pajeon they make here.” a boy's voice came from behind her.

when she turned to see who was talking, she found two people, both dressed in sports clothes, a tall boy with black hair and a girl who accompanied him. she looked familiar, somewhere she had seen that face of hers. the moment she laid eyes on her she couldn't help but find her beautiful. her eyes were big and she found light there, as if she had stars in them, and a smile rested on her lips, she seemed to be a genuinely radiant person.

the boy… he was there.

“the bibimbap here is also good.” added her.

“if she's going to order something to eat, it should be something really good, not bibimbap.” her friend complained, carefully hitting her shoulder to nag her.

"if she chose to eat here she clearly doesn't want anything highly produced, otherwise she would have gone to the restaurant.” she hit him back.

“ask for the pajeon, i know what i'm talking about.” the boy turned his attention back to the chestnut haired. “by the way, i’m lee minhyuk.” he held out his hand for her to shake. “keep the name in mind, it will help you if you need anything.”

“in case you need, you know, a lawyer…” his company continued. “or a cellmate.” she joked, making her laugh. “kwon haru.” she presented her hand for her to take as well, which she did after letting go of minhyuk.

she now remembered where she knew that face with angelic features. kwon haru. of course the name rang a bell in her brain. in front of her was the new promise of korean golf, the new discovery of the sport. if you liked and followed this hobby, then you had heard of haru. with her hawklike vision and precision in her swing, at 21 she had already earned a place among the country's future sports stars.

“i know that name.” she said shyly. “i'm nakamura…” she paused unconsciously, usually her last name was enough to get a reaction. “kazuha.” she finished, laughing at the awkwardness with which she said that.

"you are rich!" the taller one pointed his index finger at her and exclaimed.

"i imagine that you too." she replied simply, assuming that if you had made it into rottary, you must come from a well-off family.

“her parents are well-known businessmen.” he commented to the girl.

“i’ve heard the last name.” she nodded, but didn't seem to care too much. "are you new here? we don’t see many people our age around.”

“i've only been here for two weeks.” she informed, intimidated, for some reason, with kwon's attention.

"hello!" minhyuk greeted the cashier, who seemed to know him well. “two servings of samgyeopsal and…” he turned his head to look at the new girl and wait for her response.

“oh…” the sudden pressure took her by surprise. “a bibimbap.” she asked, finally, directing her gaze to haru, who smiled upon hearing that she took her recommendation.

“a bibimbap.” the boy added as he rolled his eyes. “you're missing it.” he shook his head.

the employee wrote down the group's order and gave them an approximate time the food would be ready, suggested they choose a table, and then walked away.

“will you sit with us?” the black haired man proposed.

“actually, i wanted to eat quickly and continue training.” she rejected him, lowering her head.

“oh, don't worry, it's okay.” he patted her shoulder reassuringly, earning a sideways glance from the girl, causing him to cut contact quickly.

“we will be seeing each other around.” haru gave her a kind expression. “look for us if you need anything.” she added. “it was a pleasure meeting you, nakamura…” she paused for a moment as she began walking towards the tables with her friend. “kazuha.” she finished, causing the named one to laugh, turning on their heel to leave.

“she doesn't like me.” minhyuk whispered towards haru once they were far from her.

"i don't think so." she dismissed him. “you're just being paranoid.” she rubbed his back with her hand to calm him down.

“i'm sorry, haru,” the brunette spoke after seeing her ball land in the distance. “but i think i'm about to win this match.”

“after this, there is still one more hole, zuha." she replied confidently as she approached the tee. “i wouldn't claim victory yet.” she bent down to place her ball in the teeing area.

“i have fewer hits than you.” she recalled, following the girl's movements.

“and i am the next golf superstar.” she stood up and gave her a teasing smile.

kazuha opened her eyes in surprise and let out a dry laugh as she put her hand on her chest, pretending to be offended by haru's sudden ego. she lifted her club into the air, joking that she was going to attack her with it, to which the older girl ran off with the brunette chasing behind. kazuha dropped the object and concentrated on catching kwon, who was further ahead, eventually managing to close the distance enough to reach her sweater and pull it, making her stop running, and then jump on her back. haru held her thighs with her hands so she had something to lean on, and she wrapped her arms around her neck for support.

“i could hit it while carrying you." she assured with plenty of attitude.

“haru, i can see your legs shaking from here.” she contradicted her.

“i'm just nervous in the presence of a pretty girl." she lied with a flirtatious tone. “it's not that i don't have strength.”

"how shameless." she shook her head.

haru approached her club bag, still carrying kazuha on her back with some difficulty, and took out a driver from it. she didn't have much strength, but she had great pride that was forcing her to show that she could make a good tee shot even in that situation. trying to keep the girl in place and not fall, she approached the tee box and got into position. kazuha's leg was in the way when lifting the club, but she still did her best to carry it high and not hurt her during the swing, managing to hit the ball with force and precision without touching the girl, and more importantly, without dropping her.

once she saw the small white object flying through the air, she collapsed, falling to the ground on her knees, unable to support the weight of a human on her back anymore, and being pushed flat when kazuha's body collided on top of her. leaving them both on the ground, they began to laugh at the event that had just happened.

“wow, you're really good at this." spoke nakamura, who was now lying on haru's back.

“it's my vocation." the oldest answered in a low voice due to the little air that was reaching her lungs, with her head on her side, her cheek against the grass.

kazuha let her head fall forward of her, her stare remaining directly on haru's profile. she looked at her for a moment, appreciating her features from up close, forgetting the position they were in. she leaned down and placed her forehead on the girl's temple, closing her eyes and holding them there for a moment while her game partner caught her breath.

she rolled her body to her side, getting off of the girl and facing the sky, enjoying the warm weather and sunny day for a second. she stood up, sitting on the grass, then looked to where haru was still lying, with the hand closest to her, she adjusted her hair, then gave short, soft caresses on her cheek, to finally bent down to leave a kiss on it.

“and that?” haru asked, surprised after the sudden display of affection.

“nothing." she replied simply. “it's just that you made me feel very happy just now and i wanted to thank you.”

haru raised, remaining in the same position as her, wiping the lawn off her clothes. she gave her a tender look and smiled sideways. “it makes me happy that you are happy.” her smile expanded, showing her teeth and causing her eyes to disappear, causing a mirror reaction in the brunette.

kazuha couldn't contain the emotion that haru generated within her. in those months since she had met her and they had become close, her smile had turned into her favorite thing in the world. she was all the time searching for it, telling the girl the best jokes, doing stupid things that she wouldn't do for anyone else just to see it. she couldn't contain the need to shower her with affection all the time, to show her how much someone could adore her.

with her hands against the earth, she pushed herself, landing on her knees and launching herself towards her older one, who hugged her around the waist. kazuha surrounded her shoulders and, since she was thus taller like that, she looked at her from above, meeting her eyes with her own, the shine that haru carried in them was reflected in kazuha's everytime they made optical contact, and in the way the brunette admired her with her eyes, you could tell who her world really was.

“do you know how else you can make me very happy?” she inquired, the excitement generated by the girl's simple existence painted in her tone.

haru nodded, the euphoria impossible to hide on her face, and she moved her body forward to the level where she could touch her mouth with hers, and therefore capture her lips to share their first kiss.

"love." haru called from inside her apartment, walking towards the balcony, where kazuha was seated in a chair looking at the seoul skyline. “it's merely a job, you're not tied to this guy for the rest of your life.” she took a seat beside her.

“but i don't like him.” she took a couple of grapes from the bunch that haru had just brought in a bowl.

“you never like anyone.” she brought a unit of the fruit to her mouth. “there must be three people in total that you stand.” she gave her a scrutinizing look.

“the only thing that matters to me is that i like you.” the brunette leaned to her side to plant a chaste kiss on her girlfriend's cheek.

“and i like you.” this one responded straightforwardly. “but you need to learn to be more patient.” she advised.

“i'll attempt, but i don't guarantee anything.” she shrugged, to which haru replied with a knowing smile. “i was thinking we could got out for dinner tonight.” she changed the subject.

"sorry, love." she ate another grape. “the boy minhyuk met at the gym dumped him, so we'll go console him.”

“minhyuk gets dumped every week.” she sulked.

“it's not his fault he chooses the most idiotic men.” she defended her friend.

“i'm very certain that if the pattern recurs so frequently the issue must be him.” she reasoned.

“see that you detest everyone?” she remarked, but kazuha just rolled her eyes.

“why did he get broken up with this time? it seemed like this one it was real."

“the man told him he was going too fast.” she informed, making a displeased expression. ���like, just say that you don't want any commitment and don't raise the poor boy's hopes.” she spoke with irritation.

"right?" her girlfriend agreed with her. “you wouldn't do that to me, would you?” she changed to a serious tone.

"love." she gave her an incredulous grimace.

“what does that ‘love’ mean?” she raised an eyebrow, interrogating her. “have you imagined a future with me? because i do." she confessed, and haru was silent momentarily. “baby, we're not marrying tomorrow, i just want to know if you see me in your future.”

“clearly i do.” she nodded. “every time i wake up beside you i think that is what i would like for my whole life.” her gaze was filled with tenderness.

“that's the response i was expecting.” she approved with a firm tone and brought another grape to her mouth.

"that's your answer?" haru shouted indignantly. “i admit to you that i wish you to be part of my day to day eternally and you say that?”

"you already know that my universe is you.” she mentioned laughing at haru's reaction.

“forget it, after that reaction i'm not so sure.” she lifted her hand, placing it between them and obstructing her face from looking at her.

"baby." she seized her girlfriend's arm and pulled it down. “you know how in love with you i am.” she slid her palm down kwon's forearm until they intertwined fingers. “you know my dream is to live with you, drive to the club with you every day, kiss you goodnight every night, get married… do you remember where i would like our wedding to be?” she looked at her with furrowed brows.

"in spain." she replied, smiling without realizing it when she heard her girlfriend.

"exactly." she rested her head on her partner's shoulder. “move to a house with a lovely yard, have a daughter, and fight about whether we'll give her a japanese name or not.” they both chuckled. “you know i can't envision a future without you, i didn't think i had to remind you.”

"i love you." haru expressed and then planted a kiss on her head. “the future i dream with is exactly what you just described.” she assured. “i don't wanna grow older without your head on my shoulder.”

"that will not happen." she vowed. “you will listen to me complain about minhyuk until i have to wear dentures.” kazuha envisioned making haru burst into laughter. “and i love you too, by the way.” she kissed her face.

[not-poignant]

Stupid question, but I remembered seeing you mention having monthly minimum wordcounts on one of your previous posts and I wanted to ask if you're a professional writer? Because at first I was like "that sounds so stressful"* and then I realized that it makes a lot more sense if you're doing it for a living.

*Also acknowledging that people are different from each other and what is stressful for one person might be productive and useful for another.

I am a professional writer!

My original serials are my job, basically, and they're supported by generous folks at Patreon and Ream. That, in turn, allows me to do this in a more professional and focused way, vs. say just as a hobbyist who doesn't update for 9 months at a time. It also lets me share my works for free, in a fandom friendly manner, which lets me keep doing something I love in a way I love to do it, but in a way which is like...I guess more reliable than you'd necessarily be if you were only doing it for fun.

I can instead pledge high fidelity/loyalty to my main serials through thick and thin (hence my wild author's notes), which means folks following WIPs get to know they'll be finished, and I get to enjoy doing this for a living! It's hard, but it's a good hard. Except for taxes.

As for my monthly minimum, that actually started as a way to break out of the very ableist 'you should write every day' (as a professional writer) which is literally impossible for me and my chronic illnesses. I sometimes have big chunks of time where I can't write, sometimes weeks! And where it would be unhealthy for me to make myself.

(More about my writing process beneath the Read More!)

Alongside that, I have quite severe dyscalculia (think dyslexia but with numbers and directions and left and right lol) so I can't keep a 'running wordcount' because the numbers confuse me too much. Luckily, because my writing life is defined by chapters completed (and not novels), I count the wordcount of every finished chapter only. Unfinished chapters don't count! My growing wordcount per month grows only when that draft is finished (my drafts are clean, so chapters only tend to grow or shrink by about 100-150 words per edit, so give or take it all evens out).

It's not how any other author I know does it, but it works so well for me that I've been doing it for nearly a decade now.

I started the monthly minimum (which currently is 25k words per month) because I tend towards being a workaholic, and so my therapist and I established a minimum not as an unreachable goal that's hard to meet, but as an easy goal that's generally effortless for me to reach in good months, and average months, and even many bad ones. After I hit 25k words per month, if I crash, feel burnt out, feel awful, or life gets Life-y in a bad way, I have permission to stop writing. I can just stop. Everything else is gravy. (Though secretly I always want to hit 30-35k but shhh).

When I hit 50k words, I also have to stop immediately and take a mandatory 3-5 day break from writing even if I want to keep writing. Because I don't know it yet, but I'm probably exhausted on at least some level, lol.

I didn't hit 50k at all last year and there is at least one therapist who would be really proud of me about that even though I feel kind of guilty about it, lol.

Here's an example of my tracking:

You can see the chapters I've written, which dates I've written them. They're colour coded, so I can see at a glance if I'm writing enough of a story or not. And then on the far right is an addition of every month's wordcount.

April was so low because I took an intentional writing holiday (which I'll be doing again ideally in March this year). December was so low because December sucks.

And then I erase it all at the end of the year and start again. The blank whiteboard is actually very motivating to write that first chapter because I always feel like I haven't done anything until then.

This whiteboard is two feet away from where I write quite literally, and is never moved etc. so I have a yearly tracker basically that's extremely visible (super helpful to my ADHD brain, because if I put this in a spreadsheet I'll stop updating it after 3 weeks and then forget it exists). The colour coding gives me dopamine, so does adding chapters.

Also acknowledging that people are different from each other and what is stressful for one person might be productive and useful for another.

This is true! This is actually the least stressful way of doing things for me.

That being said, anon, it's still super stressful. Being a serial writer is one of the most stressful things you do, because you have constant and never-ending deadlines for years. Novelists can kind of escape this, in a way, because they can't release novels as often as I release chapters. But I have to be mentally switched on at least 8 times a month, re: putting work out there, making sure it's at least semi-polished, making sure I let everyone know, and tracking responses because obviously, unlike a novel, if you lose interest you can't just "skip ahead" you simply lose your readers. A lot of novelists couldn't live or work this way, a) because they couldn't write a hooky serial and b) because many realise that having to update all the time is really exhausting actually. There's a kind of social labour to updating a serial, and getting it Right every single time. One of my greatest fears that I have nightmares about

Serial writing is the most stressful kind of writing I've ever done (and I've done a few different kinds), I just happen to like the adrenaline rush of this kind of writing, and I happen to work well under a controlled level of stress! I know that, because I've been doing this for over 10 years, refining it, figuring out how to make it healthier (it was really unhealthy at first), getting better at it, figuring out my weak points (some of them are still weak points) etc. I actually think I'm pretty good at it now!

I'm also getting better at not thinking my entire career is over if I take 2 weeks off.

I went from being entirely dependent on a Disability Pension, and like, sometimes having to skip meals and doctor's appointments and even medication due to money issues (the Disability Pension is ironically not enough if you have mental health issues because our subsidised healthcare doesn't cover mental health adequately and Australia has no food stamps system), to being able to live a bit more freely and support my chronic health stuff a bit more because of writing this way!

For the first time ever through these stories I was able to afford a psychiatrist, and a few other things I really desperately have needed since I was a teenager. So being able to write like this, even when it's really hard and I'm really tired, feels still like a miracle to me. I've never been well or healthy enough to work a full-time job with typical 9-5 hours, and always kind of was stuck imagining a life where I'm just...never knowing how to afford certain things, to being in a position where I'm fairly confident I can get my meds every month, or pay for my dog's pet food, etc. It's really nice.

But yeah honestly serial writing is the most stressful form of serial writing there is as soon as you lock it in as a professional job where you must meet nearly 10 deadlines every month and you happen to have pretty intense ADHD so deadlines make you scream a little.

Sometimes what is extremely stressful and sometimes even distressing for someone is also extremely productive and rewarding for them too. We probably wouldn't have a lot of emergency surgeons if that were the bar for how we decide what we do!

[p1a9u3]

PeepHole Ch.1: Moving Day

Masterpost Ch.1 - Ch.2 Pairing: Dylan Matthews x Fem Oc

Rating: 18+ (mdni)

Genre: Neighbors/Strangers to Lovers, Smut, Angst, Fluff, Slow-burn

Summary: Moving isn't as exciting as Amoya thought, plus she may have pissed off her new neighbor.

Words: 3.2k

Warnings: (This story takes place in 2024) Mental illness (anxiety, ocd), Violent intrusive thoughts, Language, Age gap (5years), Using phone while driving

Status: Unedited

Author note: This is the first fic that I've ever posted, I've written before but I've never finished anything and published it so don't tear me to shreds, please. I chose to make an oc instead of just writing as a reader mainly because I made a whole character in my head before I wrote this so I decided to just make her an oc, if you would like a post going more into this oc of mine feel free to ask (I might post it anyway because I like her), there is no smut in this chapter btw. Please give me feedback and suggestions, constructive criticism, etc. Don't be a bitch about it though...please. I'm thinking of making this a series POSSIBLY, but I procrastinate a lot so that may never happen. To my fellow troublemakers hopefully, I do Dylan justice and my writing is at least a little bit accurate to his personality. Still, to be fair I'm a fairly new troublemaker having only found out about this man a few weeks ago, so if something isn't accurate please correct me...politely. He's become my new hyper fixation so when I saw there aren't really any fics about him I decided I should make my own so here we are. Anyway with that being said Enjoy <3. Update: Dylan is barely in this chapter

Monday, February 26, 2024 Time: 8:30AM Moving out was less relieving than you thought it would be. Having been by your mother's side for almost all your life, you'd gotten comfortable always having someone around.

'You can't live with your parents forever'

People would remind you whenever the topic of anyone's living situation would be brought up. Being twenty-seven and still living with your mother wasn't something you wanted to keep telling people, no one would take you seriously. Though your mother never pushed for you to move out, never mentioned it actually. You think you know why. You never say anything though, so you deal with the slight embarrassment, and ignore the judgmental stares you get whenever someone brings it up.

'They don't know our relationship'

More excuses you make up to justify your obstinance; and to mask the anxiety you're feeling as finish up packing your U-Haul. You had finished packing your stuff from your shared apartment and were now finishing the few boxes you had in storage. Now in the elevator mustering up the strength to carry the last two boxes back down to the truck. Grabbing the lock you had left on the floor, you place it on top of one of the boxes and stack the box onto the second one, bending down and lifting with a soft grunt. Long strides carrying you to the elevator, you push the down button with your foot. The doors open soon after, you step inside setting the boxes down as you push the bottom floor and wait. Pushing off the wall as the doors open you pick up the boxes once again, you quickly load them up into the U-Haul before grabbing the padlock from on top of the box, and then heading to the front desk of the storage building.

"Here, the unit is clean and empty." You smile at the woman as she takes the lock and keys with a thank you.

Turning on your heels you walk back to your U-Haul giving everything a once-over before locking it all up, now turning your attention to the hitch attached to the back of the Truck where your precious car is hitched too. It was a black and cherry red 1993 Nissan 240SX with a red interior, you had seen it while driving with your mom past a repair shop when you were 25, back then it had no windshield or wheels. You won't lie and say you fixed it yourself but you did invest all the money you had at that time to fix it up and color it how you wanted; you still would say it was worth it. Checking the hitch and chains attached to the bottom of the car making sure everything was set and ready.

"Everything looks good?" Your mother said making you jump

"Yah! A warning ma, please! And yes everything looks good, I packed up the last two boxes and returned the keys and lock to the front desk while you were in the bathroom." You let out a breath calming your heart from the scare you just had, your mom snickering next to you. You turn to her rolling your eyes playfully as you walk to the front of the truck, your mom following behind you.

"Good, let's get on the road." Your mom hops into the passenger seat and rolls down the window. "I wanna get home by Wednesday."

You climb into the driver's seat, buckling your seatbelt then checking your mirrors. You two had agreed on driving to your new apartment, taking turns every 5 hours, once you got there she'd help you unload and unpack on Tuesday, and your mom would then fly back to New Orleans on Wednesday. The more you think about it the more you feel yourself panic a bit.

"Okay."

Time: 9:00AM Starting the car, you let out a breath putting the car in drive and pulling out of the parking lot of the storage building. You could tell your mom was trying to keep herself calm by the way she would rub her right thigh with her right hand, it was a nervous tick she passed down to you. Unfortunately, you were just as nervous, so you decided to turn on the playlist you and your mom made while eating the night before, mixes of all kinds of genres put into one playlist to keep you both entertained during the drive. Pulling off the main road and merging onto the freeway, you glance over to your mom to see her smiling wide looking back at you. She has that look in her eyes, you know it well.

"Its happening ma." You smile back at your mom then look back to the road

Your mother places her hand on your thigh, letting out a long sigh and a soft squeeze before returning it back to her own lap. You see her wipe a single tear from your peripheral; you don't acknowledge it. She'll start bawling the second you tell her not to cry. So you pretend not to see it and start singing along to Erykah Badu, your mom turns the music up a bit and starts singing along too. You smile to yourself as you glance out your side window, watching as familiar buildings pass by in a blur, You think you'll miss this place. No, you know you will, but a part of you is kinda excited, relieved almost. You've silently always longed to live on your own, but another part of you calls you selfish for even wanting that until now

'How could want to leave your mother'

You know it's normal to want to move out of your parent's home, every grown adult has to move out at some point, and twenty-seven is a perfectly normal age to do so, You wanted to move when you were twenty-four. Hell, some people live with their parents till they are far in their thirties.

'But you know your mother may need you right'

All your brothers have moved out, they are doing good on their own, and you're the only one left. It was only a matter of time; you tell yourself. Your mom will be fine, she's dating a new man who treats her great and takes care of her. Hell he tried to hire a moving crew to move all your stuff, but you wanted to do it yourself and your mom wasn't going to let you drive almost halfway across the country by yourself.

'you could've found a place closer to her you know'

Phoenix, Arizona. You chose Phenix simply because it was affordable for you and close to LA, your mom agreed it was a good choice. There is work in LA, California is just so expensive, so you chose the next best thing. The apartment is nice from what you saw as well, one bedroom, two baths with a study. It was perfect for you.

Time: 11:23AM The drive was going well so far, your mother eating a bag of chips she packed along with all the other snacks and drinks. You were eating a Honeybun, one of your favorite snacks, and drinking water. Your mom had turned off the music and started watching YouTube with mostly commentary so you could listen and drive, Right now a video was playing talking about some ice cream drama in North Dakota. Author note: if you watched this video featuring Dylan is in Trouble, I know it's technically in the future but I don't care, this is all fake anyway. You found it interesting and kinda funny, laughing every now and then when your mom would pause to add her opinion. About two-thirds of the way into the video you glance down at the screen, there are two guys now instead of one, and one of them is wearing glasses, you glance back down looking at the title of the video 'Insane Local Ice Cream Shop Drama (w/ Dylan Is In Trouble)' You made a mental note of the second guy's name for later, his voice was nice you told yourself, he was also fine as fuck. You leaned your seat back as far as it would go, which wasn't very far, getting comfortable. You still have two more hours left to drive.

Time: 12:35PM Your mom had fallen asleep about ten minutes ago, YouTube was still playing, The next video had been the same guy as before. You looked down for a second, looking at the title of the video that had been playing for about fifteen minutes. 'Guessing Finales After ONE Episode (ft. Dylan Is In Trouble)' You smile to yourself a bit recognizing the name at the end of the title, you let the video play just listening to the guy talk for ten more minutes. You caught yourself smiling again when you recognized the second guy's voice as he joined in for the rest of the video, you took a sip of your water glancing down at the video, seeing him pop on screen whenever he had something to say

"he's funny." You mutter to yourself quietly, thinking out loud.

The video had ended and your lips fell back into their original position, as an ad played before the next queued-up video, you looked down at your GPS. 1322 miles to go; you let out a sigh.

'200 miles closer to leaving you mom'

She was helping you unpack, so you technically wouldn't be leaving her really. If anything she was leaving you since she had to fly back home. You prop your left elbow on the open window, your left hand holding the steering wheel, and your right hand comes down to your thigh, rubbing small circles back and forth.

'What happens if Devon goes back home'

Your oldest brother Devon was working at a mental facility. He was on his medication and was doing good, he managed to get a job there and has been making decent money. He was doing fine, He is doing fine.

'What if he stops taking his medication again.'

They will keep tabs on him, they know his habits, his symptoms, He is fine.

'Has another episode and gets out'

That wouldn't happen. He's fine

'He'll be there when mom gets back'

No.

"Hes gonna ki-'

-beep! beep! beep!-

Time: 2:00PM Your mom's alarm goes off, making you jump a bit. Reaching over to turn it off, your mom moans a bit as she wakes up from her short nap, stretching her arms a bit as she yawns.

"Jeste li spremni za promjenu." she yawns out, going for a sip of her water ( translation: Are you ready to switch)

Your mother's Croatian tends to slip when she's just woken up, or delirious. You nod your head looking at the next exit sign to find a gas station, spotting a Love's off the side of the freeway. Slipping off the freeway you pull up to the gas station before parking next to a pump.

"Bathroom?" You look over at your mom, she nods, unbuckling her seatbelt and hopping out of the truck, you do the same.

You both enter opposing stalls to relieve yourselves of all the water you had been drinking, washing your hands after. Your mother heads back to the truck to pump the gas as you browse the aisles for any extra snacks, spotting a honeybun you instinctively grab one, then two, and head to the cashier. You place your honeybuns on the counter and then look up at the cashier who seems to be invested in something on her phone, she wasn't wearing headphones phone volume at maybe thirty percent, you could hear what she was watching. You recognize the voice, the cashier finally looks up from her phone quickly apologizing for not paying attention.

"Oh I'm so sorry, will this be all" She quickly rings up the two honeybuns.

"No you're fine, that'll be it actually." You dismissively wave your hand pulling out your wallet to pay.

Looking down you notice her phone, she had put it on the counter, and the video on it had been paused but on the screen was that guy again, though it seemed to be a video of his own this time. You pull out some cash and hand it to the young woman behind the counter, she takes the cash, counts it, and then goes to get your change.

"No, it's fine, keep the change" Flashing a smile then grabbing your honeybuns you take another glance at the women's screen before it turns off from being left alone for too long.

Opening the passenger seat door, you climb into the seat buckling yourself in. Pulling out of the gas station your mom pulls off back onto the freeway continuing your journey. You pull out the bag you had brought for little activities, pulling out your book of choice. You had splurged at a Barnes and Noble a few weeks before you began packing, picking up a bunch of books you had either heard good things about or had been wanting to read. Red Rising was one of the books, it was also the one you were currently holding.

"I'm gonna put my headphones on, so you can listen to whatever you want." You tell your mom as you put your headphones on and pull out your phone.

You had gotten the book on Audible a while back and wanted to read and listen at the same time. Pressing play you turn to the first chapter and begin reading as the narrator spoke. Your mom seemed to have put music on, you could feel the bass as she turned up the volume and began singing along.

Time: 10:56PM Hours had passed, it was your turn now with two hours left till your next switch. Your mother was knocked out, lightly snoring as you drove in silence, you had stopped reading once you had switched. You also decide to put off reading it until you were moved in, the book had grabbed your attention, so much so, that you wanted to be able to focus on it solely; so you chose to wait. You had a couple hundred miles left to go and things were sinking in more as you drove silently. Your mind doing its usual thing, making you worry about things that most likely won't happen, even if it did, you know it wouldn't be your fault. You couldn't help but think maybe it would be though, it was a dumb thought but you couldn't help it

'What was that guys name again'

Your brain blanked for a second, random but ok, your brain goes back to the YouTube video your mom had been watching, that cashier was watching him as well. Dylan is in Trouble, you wonder what kind of videos he makes, most likely commentary. You pull your phone out glancing down and go to YouTube, you use the voice to text and hold your phone up to your mouth.

"Dylan is in trouble"

You press search, going back and forth between looking at your phone and watching the road. You look down to find his channel, press his icon, and scroll through some of his videos. Movie commentary is what you mostly see, occasionally you'd spot something different, you decided you'd dive into his channel later when you weren't driving.

Time: 5:00AM You were in the driver's seat, you had let your mom sleep more after she had been driving for about three hours. She was up now though, you could tell things were starting to catch up to her again. She was fidgeting a lot more now, well so were you, she looked very tense. She helped you find this apartment, but you assume she wants to see the neighborhood for herself, in person, wants to see how good the security is and what the neighbors are like. It's only natural, she's a mother and her only daughter is moving twenty hours away from her. You look down at your phone, your GPS says you are pulling up now, you look around the area, it was very nice, wasn't too far from the city. You spot the complex to the left, it was pretty big with multiple sections with apartments, you were building three, kind of in the middle of everything. You pull into the complex parking in front of the leasing office to speak to your landlord and to get your keys, your mom comes with you of course, sizing everything up.

"Hi welcome to Arts District Apartments, it's Amaya correct, my name is George?" An old-looking man stands from his desk, his hand reaching out to shake yours

"Thank you, George, it's Amoya actually" You reach out and shake his hand with a smile.

You two talk a bit about the complex and its rules etc. Your mom chimed in every now and then to ask her questions. Before you know it you're unloading the truck into your new apartment, you're realizing now that you didn't have as much stuff as you thought. The last thing you had left was your bed, you and your mom had been doing well with just the two of you, but after you two had gotten the mattress inside your mother's back began to bother her. Now you had your bed frame, you told your mom to relax for now and that you could get the frame up yourself. Partial lie, you previously took apart the bed frame and so there were mainly long pieces that weren't too heavy except the backboard, that thing was heavy as fuck, luckily you had a dolly at the storage building to help you carry it out, but now you have to carry it to the elevator and down the hall. You managed to get it down from the truck, and from there you lifted it and sped walked to the elevator, almost dropping the bed frame on your foot as you set it down to push the button. The doors had closed on you twice as you tried to pick the frame back up and lift it into the elevator, but alas you made it, now on the third floor and outside the elevator. You took pride in your body, you considered yourself strong, regularly went to the gym, and you would say your legs were the strongest part of your body, with that being said, you tried to make as little noise as possible since it was still early in the morning, you lost your footing. You were almost there, your door being right in front of you; but you fell. Landing on the door behind you hitting your head with a very loud thud.

"Bumbo." You whisper yelled at yourself in Jamaican as you set the frame down and leaned off of the door. (translation: Fuck)

Holding the frame upright you walk around it reaching for your door, the frame slipping from your fingers and falling against your neighbor's door again. You prayed that your new neighbor was either a very deep sleeper or wasn't home right now, though maybe you didn't pray hard enough. You lift the bed frame from your neighbor's door, getting your phone to get your mom to hold the door open for you so you can slide it the rest of the way inside. Stopping, you hear the door behind you click open. Your bed frame blocked your view of whoever had stepped out, but you could hear him.

Ch.1 - Ch.2

Updated Author note: Hopefully this was an enjoyable first chapter or part. The apartment is just a random apartment complex I saw on Zillow, everything in this is all fictional besides the YouTube videos and things that are obviously real. Anyway, I have decided to make this a series, I've gone into too much detail on little things like Amoya's intrusive thoughts and all that, and it'd be a waste to shorten and delete half of what I put and speed through everything, Amoya's intrusive thoughts and anxiety is a trait I added from myself, so you'll notice a lot of internal thinking and scenarios she makes up in her head. Hopefully, the idea is as cool as what I thought of in my head. If this does well, I will upload the other chapters one after the other, If it does bad I'll just delete everything, but please be patient I procrastinate a lot and I want the writing to be good. Please be honest and let me know how you all feel about this, if you like the writing, the main character, the pacing, the storyline, length, anything, and everything, I need criticism but don't be a bitch about it.

[08melancholie]

Hello! I've read a lot of your works, and I love them,

I was wondering if you could write something that has the reader’s admiration and almost worshipful awe for Micah’s boots(like licking them, being stepped on, etc.) with him also maybe hurting or insulting the reader as well, fully aware of the effect he has. A bit of hair-pulling would also be nice.

Thank you so much!

OOOH i love the filth of this sm 🙏🙏

i like to push the boundaries of my writing and i feel like this type of thing will do it perfectly for me as ive never written anything related to boot worship just yet and i absolutely needed an excuse to try it :) as always, thank you for the ask!

Spurs and Leather. — Micah Bell/Reader

tags: Micah Bell Being an Asshole, Micah Bell Is His Own Warning, Top Micah Bell, Dom/sub Undertones, Hair-pulling, Boot Worship, Sexual Tension, Blow Jobs, Grinding, on the boot... yeah., this fic is making me realise some things about myself, Degradation, Praise-Degradation, Spanking, Overstimulation, Orgasm, Multiple Orgasms, Cunnilingus, Oral Sex, Rough Oral Sex, Not Beta Read, no beta we die like micah bell

summary: Your knees turn a lighter, bruised color from kneeling on the floors of your tent so long, but his degrading words and harsh manner make you stay put. His boots shimmer at you, making you want more. Worship him like a God, and you might get yourself a small reward this night to go with your colourful bruises and other love marks.

a/n: oh boy this is something to write about.... feel like ill need a long overdue visit to church. EDIT: i finished this four hours before i had to wake up for church. yeah it didnt feel right at all

words: 2,472 | AO3 LINK

Things tend to always escalate with Micah around. Whether jobs and missions or sex, it'll go somewhere you wouldn't expect it to. Likewise for tonight, where he's got you fully nude before him while just watching, still clothed himself. Micah was a man into many different things in bed—spanking, per say. You don't remember which night, so far, left your ass the same color as the rest of your body—mostly always ending a more bruised color from his harsh slaps and blows, always soothed with his rough hand caressing your cheeks.

But you were no saint either; you had your own array of sick fantasies yourself, too.

"Well, 'ya know you want to, sweetheart,"

His words echo in your head, looking up at him on your shared cot from your spot on the ground, kneeling for him. His hand is on the top of your head, first gently running through the many locks of hair on it, before he makes a ponytail with the strands and tugs back slightly. "and I know it too. Get to it, give in." Your hair is let to rest slightly, though his hand doesn't fully release it just yet.

The sliver at the tip of his boot reflects the light of the dim-lit lantern in a corner inside the tent, and you can almost see your own reflection in it, only if they were polished better or washed more often. His hand kneads at your scalp and he sprays his legs a bit more out; closer to you. You know what to do.

Your back arches with you when you lean downwards to his shoes, not daring break eye contact with him. The metal tip is always the cleanest of any other part—thankfully, because of yourself and this usual endeavour. His erection twitches in his trousers when he sees your tongue flatten out over his shoe, licking a quick yet fine stripe on the metal. That flushed, embarrassed and downright humiliated look on your sweet face makes it even harder for him to not bend you over the cot and fuck any other thought out of your head; to leave himself and himself only on your mind, all the time. Oh, how he'd love that. Even if you look embarrassed, he knows your sweetness is a façade; you're loving this. You want to keep doing it, he knows how hot it gets you to treat his boots like a starved man would bread and water. He palms himself through his jeans, watching that hypnotising motion of your tongue painting saliva over his boot. Your focus is on only one of his two shoes, which is simply unfair to Micah. He pokes the tip of the other into your cheek, watching your eyes dart between them with a sinister chuckle. "Give 'em both some of your sweet, sweet love, hun."

From one to the other, the two shoes now share a small string of your saliva. You don't even know if you've blinked since you started treating his boots like so, but you can't even focus on that when you have to try your hardest to keep your eyes on his—and not his throbbing cock, practically pleading against the restraint of his zipped trousers. Micah isn't as cruel to himself as to you, as he groans and reaches for the restraints of his jeans, undoing them slightly sloppily. "Think it's 'bout my turn with that pretty little mouth, huh?" He frees himself out of the restraining material of his pants and shuffles them down more comfortably, not having to order you again yet again as you sit up and place your hands on his thighs, waiting for his little signal to taste the throbbing, precum-leaking shaft just inches from your hungry, almost salivating mouth.

Your little facial expression draws a low chuckle out of him, his cock giving another little throb. "C'mere then, bet you're real hungry." With the permission, you lower your head between his thighs and lick the tip, collecting a hefty amount of the precum dripping out of it. The salty liquid paints your tongue, smearing and helping slicken Micah's member when you lick a stripe up the throbbing body part. He gives you an approving nod, and you take the tip into your mouth, your eye-contact not faltering a single time when his mouth parts with a small pop at the feeling of you swirling your tongue around him. "Teasing me, little whore? Yeah, still haven't learned how bad of an idea that is, have 'ya?" He growls, gripping you by the hair tighter, the line between painful and pleasurable blurring significantly. He pushes you down his cock until you gag, gripping his thighs from the motion. "Oh, don't give me that; you always take me like a cheap street slut so this should be nothing for you, 'ya know?" Some of your saliva drips down your jaw when Micah's hips start thrusting up, his tip tapping lightly against the back of your throat with every push of his hips into your face. You see stars, per usual, gripping onto his thighs to ground yourself enough to not gag all over his cock as it pistons in and out of your mouth, the lower abdomen region repeatedly lightly slapping against your face with each quick thrust.

His pace is relentless and almost bruising, but you don't dare move even an inch—anything could make him stop the fun and leave you unsatisfied, before it's even truly started. You stay stiff in your spot, drooling and humming moans against his dick as he face-fucks you, essentially. You're so pent up yourself that your cunt is practically aching, for anything. And anything you will get.

You gasp and gag once more on Micah from the surprising feeling of a cold sensation suddenly pressing onto your clit, that being the tip of Micah's boot. And he just laughs in response, positioning it under you. "Get to it. Get yourself off on every part of me, fuck." He curses at the thought, biting his lip. "Oh yeah, do it." He repeats, brushing the boot against you again. You move up a bit, from the metal to the leather before you give a quick roll of your hips to test it out. It's rough, but it draws you to moan and for your hips to twitch for more, so you comply.

He continues to fuck your mouth in a bruising pace, all the while muffling your sounds of pleasure as you roll your nub and wet pussy over his boot, drawing yourself closer by the minute. "Fuck yeah, girl. Keep moving them hips, oh God," He rambles breathily, punctuating himself with a thrust into your mouth each few words. He grips your hair harder as time goes on, usually the indication that he's close, and to warn you of it. A few moments pass before you feel his hot cum shoot at the back of your throat and hear him groan, using the tight hold on your hair to push you down fully on his cock as he empties his balls into your mouth, not much caring for the protesting gags of your body—but you don't care either, anyhow. Once he finally lets go of you, you slip him out of your mouth and swallow before clearing your—probably bruised—throat, and starting to move off his boot. That's when he grabs you by the arm.

"Oh, no. You didn't cum, did 'ya?" He asks, using the hold on your arm to perch you back over his boot. "What, 'ya think I'm that cruel, won't let you finish?" He says with a small laugh, leaning back on the bed. "Make yourself cum for me. On my boot, nothing else." He orders, and you're torn between wanting his cock or his boot getting you off. And while you love getting fucked into by Micah's thick shaft, those boots do something to you.

You position yourself over his boot, and Micah takes your wrists into his hand—to make sure you get yourself off only on the oh-so precious leather shoe of his. Heat already builds in your abdomen when you brush your clitoris over the material to get situated on him, and it's even more prominent when you start moving again, grinding your sensitive sex on the leather. With Micah's dick out of your mouth, your moans are much more clear; whining and groaning to punctuate every thrust over his boot, hands and fingers clenching, sometimes digging into his hand holding your wrists and preventing you from touching him or yourself to get your orgasm going.

"That's it, move them hips. These boots will smell like your sweet cunt for weeks, won't even wash them." He rambles on as he watches you, his once-more-hard cock twitching and leaking again, eyeing you with mesmerised eyes as you lean your head back and moan almost pitifully from how your sensitive nub drags across the rough leather beneath itself, pleasure quickly mixing with the small stinging leaving you torn between stopping and giving your poor, bruised clit a break—or getting an orgasm out of yourself. Is your orgasm worth the slight hint of pain? Apparently so.

You speed up your hips just enough to draw yourself to that long-awaited orgasm, leaning forward into his lap as you cum over his boot, a whine leaving your parted lips straight into one of his thighs as you lean over onto him, dragging your orgasm out until you have to stop. Micah has been patting your head, like a dog, since you leaned into his lap, watching your hips twitch as you soak his boot. "Well, ain'tchu a sight.." He murmurs, but as always, you don't get a long enough break to count your stars.

Micah releases your wrists to get you up on the cot, laying you flat on your stomach as he places his hands on your hips, positioning them up slightly. Like the asshole Micah is, he gives a firm slap to your backside, laughing when you yelp and arch your back more. "What, you think I'm done? Come on, I gotta help.. ease yer nerves, after all that." He purrs, punctuating himself with another spank. You groan and your oversensitive pussy twitches, hands gripping the sheets. Micah positions your hips a little higher, and spreads your knees so that you're on display for him, gaining himself a good view of your soaked cunt and ass, which he gladly takes in for a moment before he rubs your clit with his thumb. You let out a pitiful whimper, still not nearly recovered from your high. "Micah, I'm not—" You almost huff out loud when he shushes you and awards the next slap to your cunt, your nub stinging from it as you gasp-whimper at him. He soothes the stringing by resuming the rubbing on your clitoris, brushing two fingers perfectly over it, enough to have your knees get weak and muscles to quiver and tremble under his touch. "Mm, look at that.. already shivering for me, and I've barely touched this pretty cunt." He hums quietly, pinching your clit which has you almost drooling into the sheets under you.

He shuffles onto the bed behind you while pulling and pinching, then slowly rubbing over you, before he stops to flip you over. Micah's met with your flushed, sweaty face and uneven, quickened breathing. "This is your best look, sweetheart—trust me on that." He comments with a small chuckle, before he leans down between your now-parted thighs. Your head rolls back when he instantly and roughly sucks on your bundle of nerves. You gasp and moan, arching off the bed as Micah places both hands on your inner thighs to keep them open, stopping your weak attempt at clasping them closed on him. His tongue runs a fine stripe between your labia's, drinking up the aftermath of your previous orgasm as your muscles spasm with every inch of your sensitive cunt his tongue covers. Your hands grasp at his hair, unsure if you want to push his head in closer or away to give yourself a break. Either way, Micah's head doesn't move an inch, devouring your pussy like his life depends on it. Your back isn't even on the cot anymore, it's hovering over the sheets as your moans become even more incoherent, gasping and heaving as you twitch your hips up into Micah's face, the overstimulation causing tears to form in the corners of your eyes. Like shit, you might be meeting God if he continues eating you out like this.

Micah isn't letting up for even a moment, his tongue drags between your lips, circles your clit or fucks into your entrance, as you sob and mewl under him desperately, slowly seeing stars again as your second orgasm quickly approaches, causing your legs to soon practically give out on you. Clearly, this doesn't bother Micah one bit—as he holds you up to his mouth to continue eating you out. You've been reduced to a whimpering mess by now, the tears in your eyes rolling down one cheek from the stimulation, and Micah's determined to get you to cum a second time.

He keeps one hand open on your inner thigh, the other snaking around to knead at your ass as he sucks on your clit hard, raising the volume of your moans to a whole new volume. You're practically howling at this point, and he's still not even tempted to let up.

It doesn't take him too long to finally draw that blissful second orgasm out of you, your legs spasming as you squirt and arch off the bed completely again. Micah fucks you through the orgasm, tongue delving between your walls as if drinking out of your pussy, collecting every drop your orgasm is offering him. He finally lets you rest after your eyes roll back slightly, and he sees you're finally too exhausted to continue. He kisses your mound before parting from between your soaked legs, and the damp sheets underneath you. He almost laughs at the sight of you so out of it, proud to know it's him getting you so foggy-brained. "That's my girl, always lettin' 'ol Micah get what he wants outta 'ya. Good fuckin' lady." He praises as he stands up to get a clean rag for the two of you, coming back and first wiping you down. "Need somethin'? Water, or.. think I got some crackers in 'ere somewhere." You thank him and he gets up to grab you the items, all the while collecting your clothes and tucking himself away, uncaring of the new erection in his pants.

This man can drive you insane, but damn—can he also make you see stars.

Kudos on AO3 heavily appreciated!!! This fic has been put off for a very long time because I was scared of writing boot worship, as I've literally never done it before, but I think I did fine! Do tell me what you think anyhow <3 Thank you for the request, anon!

[slytherinlives]

My Year in Fic 2024

Thank you to @mirdeli for the tag! (love you and your writing <3)

First of all, I can't believe how much I've actually written this year until I sat down and took it all in. When I first started actively writing for the legacy fandom, it was a very different experience. I wrote my first fic as a fun continuation of the main story. I thought about where these characters might go and how their relationships would change in the wake of their choices. Then I hated it, deleted all 30 chapters from the internet and then re-wrote it. Then I started a second story with a new mc and new dynamics, that at the time I was really proud of. But then as I'm sure you all know, there was this person that went around accusing the adults who wrote with more mature themes and aged up characters of being foul things. Including but not limited to leaving cruel comments on art or fics that had anything above a T rating. It got so bad that it discouraged me from writing with mc content completely, which really broke my heart because I loved what I was creating with it.

But even after all of that, I couldn't stop creating stories. A big thing that resonates with me as a person as well as a writer is wanting to tell stories with characters that people already know and love but introduce themes that feel authentic to a human experience. Such as things like sexuality, anger, tense family dynamics etc.

And with that in mind, I started testing the waters with a silly little au for one of my favorite disney films Sleeping Beauty. Only this time featuring a love story without "mc". Then I did another silly au that was centered around one of my favorite superheros, Spiderman. (Both remain unfinished, but I plan to focus back on those this year)

In doing so, I found this corner of the fandom where everyone had been nothing but accepting and encouraging each other with their art and I finally started to feel more comfortable in posting my works again.

So, before I make this entirely too long, let's get into it:

My fics written in 2024: (I've published nearly 30, but I'm only going to share completed fics and the one's I'm proud of.)

Growing Pains Ominis/Sebastian 26k -single father/self discovery-

Tell Myself I Wouldn't Feel Things Ominis/Sebastian 32.3k -enemies to lovers/fake dating-

Open Yourself Up to Me and Surrender Ominis/Sebastian 2.7k -age insecurity/body worship-

I Hold You Close (In progress) Ominis/Sebastian 27.1k -friends with benefits-

Pepper Me Up Ominis/Sebastian 7.8k -sick fic/crack-

The Greatest 'What If' Sebastian/Garreth 7.8k -friends with benefits/prequel spin off of I Hold You Close-

Side Effects (On Hold) Sebastian/Fem!MC 56.3k -Reuniting/Mutual Pining/Friends to Lovers-

Across The Stars Sebastian/Fem!MC 1.6k -one shot collection with the same characters from Side Effects-

I know I'm mostly known for writing Sebinis/Weaslow now, and I love that because the friends I've made and the fun I've had over here I would never trade for anything. But I do hope one day I'll feel the drive again to finish Side Effects. (maybe even my first ever mc fic that's still up but that one more complex) I do love those characters so much and I miss them. Maybe one day.

With that said, I can't wait to share more stories (after completing some active ones first.) Maybe I'll even feel more confident to start posting my backlog for other fandoms.

Anyway, I'd love to see that everyone else has been up to this year! So I'll pass this along to @shyamanuensis , @pr0serpinas, @sunsetplums, and anyone else who wants to participate, consider yourself tagged!

See you all in 2025! <3

[moorishflower]

Really looking forward to your next work!

I'm gonna be really honest with you: I haven't written anything. Not since I finished Tower and Rose. I haven't felt the desire! It worried me at first. It was a huge source of anxiety, even while I was writing. What if I lose it again? What if it never comes back?

There's a lot going on in Sandman-land right now. Understandably. I don't have much interest in getting deeply into it. Every literature student understands that you can't fully separate art from artist, but equally you can't disregard the quality of a piece, or the good it can accomplish, just because it was created by an asshole. Just ask Caravaggio.

This is the skin of a killer, Bella.

There are other things, too. I'm spending more time with friends in meatspace. I've gotten a bunch of tattoos. I'm looking at buying a house. I'm reading a lot about environmental disasters. A lot going on. I don't know if writing will come back to me. I hope it does; I'd rather it didn't take 8 more years to show its face again. But also, it's a hobby! I keep telling myself that. I don't owe it to anyone. I like to share it, the same way I would like to share a cookie I baked. Eventually, the cookie is gone, and I might bake more.

We'll just have to see!

[johnwgrey]

Two posts from me in one day might be an actual christmas miracle! (here's the first one icymi) but I've one (1) other snippet from my WIP I'd like to share and if not on snowbaz day, then when?

I said last time that I didn't want to say too much about this WIP just yet and that's mostly because I don't know if I'm going to finish it (I plan to but you know... Anything might happen) however, I can say that it's a victorian era AU and that this snippet might give a hint as to what it is to some people (very cryptic, I know. Sorry!) Perhaps next time, I'll be able to talk more about it but in the meantime, feel absolutely free to try and guess what it is if you feel like it!

This and the snippet I shared last time are both from the third chapter of my fic. I have started the fourth but I've been in poor health for the past month or so and haven't been able to write. Hopefully I'll resume writing in the new year as my goal is to start posting around the end of 2025 at the latest and I've only written about half of it so far.

Well, anyway. Hope you enjoy!

When Simon was a child, he used to lie in bed, eyes trained on the ceiling, praying that sleep wouldn't come for him. That his demons wouldn't reach from the darkest corners of his mind and pull him to them, kicking and screaming.  He would lay very still and hope that the Sandman from [his nurse's] tales would not notice him. But of course, he always did and Simon would wake in the small hours of the morning with not sand in his eyes, but tears, salty as seawater. That night however, tossing as he might, begging and threatening, sleep eluded him and Simon lay in bed, listening to the clocks of Pitch Manor chime the hours away with sweet Selene, round and beautiful in her court of stars, and the ghost of Mr Pitch's hand on him for sole company.

thanks for the tags these past weeks ❤️ @bookish-bogwitch @confused-bi-queer @ileadacharmedlife @ic3que3n

[wickedsick]

Fuck it it's Christmas in Australia

-

@psi-spectacular I was your secret Santa this year!

I don't really engage in the psychonauts fandom as much nowadays, but I still love the secret Santa. It's an event where I get to make something for someone else, and it helps push my writing boundaries.

I've never done a sickfic before. I don't think I've even read a sickfic before. Still, I gave it my best go, and I hope you enjoy!

And thank you once again @kibasniper , for setting up this whole thing! Truly the most special time of the year.

“Ugghhh…”

“Dear, where do we keep the pickled hog noses?”

“I threw those out years ago, caro! They had expired!”

“They don't expire, they ripen! Like cheese!”

-

A few days ago, Raz came back from a mission with a blocked nose.

The next day, his eyes were watering, his temperature was rising, and soon after that, he had been stuck in bed.

-

“Doctor Sparckzinger is an extreme germophobe,” Hollis had explained to Donatella and Augustus. “Sasha thinks that Raz managed to catch an imaginary virus inside his mind.”

“Does that happen… often?” Augustus asked.

“No. Again, Sparckzinger is an extreme case. Regardless, we're planning to have Otto and Sasha monitor him to see if we can learn anything else and potentially create a cure.”

“You mean you do not even know if he will recover?” Donatella asked angrily.

“This is an unprecedented incident. If we had any more information, we'd share it. For now, we're going to prepare a quarantine area in case he's contagious.”

“Couldn't you ask this…”

“Sparckzinger,” Hollis offered.

“Yes, Sparckzinger. If it comes from inside his mind, shouldn't he know about it?”

“It's not that simple. It's derived from his subconscious. If anything, he might know less about it, due to not having the best understanding of illnesses and viruses in the first place.”

“That's it!” Augustus snapped his fingers.

“What is it?” Donatella and Hollis asked in unison.

“If it's a mental illness, then we just cure it mentally! Whenever I got sick, Nona would make me soup! I think we still have the recipe written down somewhere, maybe the main caravan? I'll go check!” And with that, Augustus rushed off.

“I will go make sure he does nothing too…” Donatella stood up.

“Your son may be contagious,” Hollis said. “I still strongly suggest isolation, to prevent more people getting sick. We have rooms in the Motherlobe-”

“The children all sleep in separate rooms, and there are latches on their doors besides. We shall do just fine.”

-

Augustus had found the recipes quickly enough. Nona had scribbled them down on loose-leaf paper and kept them in her room. The one that he remembered most fondly was an onion soup with hog noses. Unfortunately, the hog noses were no longer with them, so he had moved onto the next recipe.

“Hmm… peppers, ginger, potatoes, some chicken… did we finish the chicken last time?”

“Yes, I think we did… I had been planning to buy some more in the next town, but then everything happened, and…”

“Ah, yes, now I remember. Do you think we could get some from the psychics?”

“What, do you think they have a chicken farm hidden somewhere?”

“...Noodle Bowl…” Raz said, his voice weak. He was in his bed, swaddled in blankets.

“What was that, son? I couldn't quite hear.” Augustus came over, still holding the recipes.

“He said ‘Noodle Bowl’,” Dion said. He had been hanging around the outside of the caravan, pacing.

“‘Noodle Bowl’? Hmm, I might have some noodle recipes…”

“Maybe he wants some of that chicken noodle soup from that one town? I saved a box of it a while back,” Mirtala piped up.

“That's probably also expired,” Dion said.

“That stuff expires?” Mirtala asked, tilting her head to the side like a confused dog.

“For the- it's written on the box!”

“The Noodle Bowl’s a place in the Motherlobe,” Frazie said. “Raz told me he got some bacon there once, I think?”

“Raz wants bacon?”

“No, Mirtala. Wait, do you want bacon?” Dion asked, turning to Raz, who shook his head.

“...get chicken from the Noodle Bowl…”

“Wow, his voice sounds bad,” Mirtala said.

“He's probably got a sore throat,” Augustus said. “Now, let's see, when I had a sore throat, Nona made…” 

He wandered off again, muttering to himself while flipping through the paper.

“Is it just me, or does it sound like Dad was sick a lot as a kid?” Frazie asked.

“Oh, his constitution was never the best,” Donatella’s voice came from outside. “He had a weak heart as a boy, but it cleared up when your older brother was born. Although, I was worried it would come back after The Incident.”

“...’m sorryyy…” came a sickly moan from indoors.

“Oh, no, I wasn't talking about you running away, Pootie. I was talking about when that horrid old man’s hypnosis came undone and your father realized the last three decades of his life had been a lie. I can talk about more than one Incident.”

“Anyway, Frazie. Go see if you can get some chicken,” Dion said. “Tala, can you get another bag of ice?”

“Why do I have to go get the chicken?”

“Because none of us know where the Noodle place is? Tala, the ice block’s in Nona's old tent. Chisel’s next to it.”

“‘kay!” Mirtala hopped outside.

“Dion, I heard about it once. I know as much about where it is as you do.”

“Then go ask your friend Norma. She'd probably tell you.”

“In that case, you can go ask Gisu.”

“No fighting, you two,” Donatella said. “Frazputin, you go talk to the mind-readers. Dionysus, you go make sure Mirtala is using the ice chisel responsibility.”

Wordlessly, but with slight groans at the usage of their full names, Frazie and Dion headed off on their errands.

-

On her way through the Quarry, Frazie ran into Lili, throwing stones into the water.

“Hey, you're… Lily, right?”

“Lili.”

“That's what I said. Anyway, do you know if I could borrow some chicken?”

“Why? Does this have to do with Raz?”

“Yeah. Dad's decided that the best way to treat a mental illness is with a mental cure, so he's trying to make a stew Nona made for him when he was sick.”

“...okay, but don't call it a mental illness. That's… that's a different thing.”

-

Eventually, they had managed to convince the cafeteria workers to loan them some chicken. 

“Dad, I'm back!”

“Oh, good. Did you get the chicken? Ah, Lili! Good to see you!”

“We ran into each other in the quarry,” Frazie explained. “She helped me get in.”

“Splendid. Now, I'll start on the stew… what else?”

“Once I got sick at camp, and Agent Vodello gave me some tea with honey and lemon. Would that help?”

“Sounds splendid!” Augustus said. “Could you go get some honey and lemons? Who knows, maybe the fact that you're helping out will make all the difference- mental illness, mental cure!”

“Don't- don't call it that.”

-

As Raz lay in bed, he thought.

He'd been feeling horrible ever since coming back from the mission. On the plane back his symptoms had just gotten worse and worse, but the moment he was back in the caravan things had started to get better.

Everything his family was doing had been helping, little by little. Even just hearing Dion ask if he wanted bacon felt like it had lowered his fever a bit.

He still felt absolutely horrible, but it was less horrible.

“Hey, Raz!”

“Oh- hey, Queepie,” Raz said, his voice still weak. 

“Dad's almost done with the stew and he told me to ask if you can sit up,” Raz’s little brother asked brightly.

“Yeah- yeah, I should be able to.”

“Great! I'll go get the thing we used that one time we tried to make breakfast in bed for Mom.”

That brought back memories. One year, they decided to make Donatella breakfast in bed. They had gotten a tray with folding legs to put the food on, and did their best to cook eggs and bacon.

The eggs got overcooked, and the bacon got a bit undercooked, but she had still said it was delicious. 

Well, she said that the food was horrible, but the taste of the love they put into it outweighed that. And then she had banned Raz, Mirtala, and Queepie from using the stove until they turned twelve. But it was the thought that counted.

Maybe that's what it was, he thought. The fact that they were thinking of him. Just the idea that they were trying to help was helping.

“I got the tray thing!” Queepie said, running back into Raz’s room. “I unfolded it already.”

“Thanks, Queepie.”

“Dad said he's gonna be getting a bowl for the stew soon! One second!”

At this rate, he'd probably be out of bed by tomorrow.

-

The stew was good. Spicy, too, in a way he hadn't really gotten from any of the food at Camp or the Motherlobe. It filled him with warmth with each bite, even if the chicken was a little dry.

Eventually, he heard a knock at the door, and muffled voices, before the door swung open.

“Hey, Raz. Holding up?”

“Doing better, Lili. The stew's helping.” Lili was holding a two-handled mug, with a cartoony pink figure on it. “What's in the mug?”

“Well… I was thinking about how I could help out, and I remembered that one year, I got sick at camp, and Milla gave me some tea with honey and lemon. So, I thought that might help. I got the tea from Agent Boole, some honey from Agent O’Pea, my uncle let me borrow a lemon, and the mug belonged to Helmut,” she said, setting it down on the tray. “And I ran into Sasha and Otto on the way and they asked me how your condition was doing. So, how are you doing?”

“Better now,” Raz said, picking up the mug. “I think… so, the virus comes from Sparckzinger’s thoughts, right?” 

“Right. Your dad said that it might help to just do what he thought would help.”

“Well, I think he was right. All day, I've been feeling better and better. The moment you came in here, I could feel my fever dropping,” Raz said. As he drank, he could feel his throat getting less sore- his body getting less weak. “This, plus the stew- I could probably get out of bed right now!”

Taking another sip of the tea, he pushed back the tray, and extracted himself from the pile of blankets and pillows.

“Thanks, Lili.”

“No problem. You'd do the same… hopefully.”

“Well, I don't know how to make stew, and I don't know if the tea thing would work for you too, but I'd try.”

Lili let out a small chuckle. 

“Feeling better already, huh, Pooter?”

Frazie was looking in through the caravan window, hanging upside-down from the second-floor windowsill.

“Wha- Frazie!”

“You’re not sick anymore, so we get to make fun of you again. That's the rules,” Dion said. 

“Oh, is Razputin up? I was just about to see if I could figure out Nona’s strudel recipes. I'm sure we have some preserves somewhere…”

“I mean, I still feel a tiny bit sick!” Raz called.

Augustus chuckled. “Alright, strudel it is. Is your girlfriend staying for dinner? We've still got plenty of stew!”

[thisapplepielife]

Thank you thank you thank you for writing the masterpiece that is 'Tuesday's Gone with the Wind' 💕 I think I've reread it 4 times since it was posted, it has carved a space in my chest and taken root. It has sincerely changed the way I listen to live music, what I listen to and how I think about these characters! The love, the story, the found family is truly something I think about all the time.

A thank you for letting me live in the universe a little longer with 'Wildflowers and All the Rest' it's such a great companion piece, it's always bittersweet finishing it cuz I want more but I know it's time.

I love all your writing (TTMAR also holds a special place in my heart) but this story is a masterpiece!

Thank you so, so much!! Truly, sincerely. To know that you've enjoyed it enough to re-read (4 times!!) is just beyond amazing. Hearing that it has connected with a reader is always the best feeling in the world. It's my favorite thing I've written. It might not have been as read as Take the Money and Run, but it changed me, getting to spend that time writing and getting to know those versions of the characters.

And it changed the way I listen to live music, too! The drums in any given song now stick out like a sore thumb for me, all because of this version of Gareth. It's still so weird that I had no strong feelings at all for Gareth when I started Tuesday's. Now he lives in my head rent-free and doesn't seem to have any intention of leaving soon, haha.

Wildflowers was my opportunity for him to flourish a little further, take the forefront. The fact that you wanted to follow him, and the rest of these characters, for a little longer means so much to me. I knew it wasn't for every reader. Hell, Tuesday's wasn't for every reader. So, Wildflowers was always going to be a niche of a niche from the jump, and that was a-okay with me. Because Gareth wanted his side of the story to be told, and I wanted to hear it. In some ways, I feel that I was just along for the ride.

Now, approaching two years since I wrote the first words for this universe, I've spent so much time with these versions of the characters in my head, that knowing that they managed to reach even a handful of readers has been beyond anything I could have ever asked for when I put it out into the world.

I wrote every word of that universe for myself. I don't think I had the option not to, really. It was just...there. I was the lucky one that got to tell their story. That might sound crazy, lol, but it feels true. Yes, I researched. A lot. But the story? The characters? Maybe it's rose-colored glasses, with time and distance. But they feel like they came easy. And getting to share the finished fic with those of you that wanted to read it has been a delight. Thank you, thank you.

Also, I really appreciate you letting me know that you still think about this story and these characters. I think about them, too. ❤️

(I just threw on the Spotify playlist for Tuesday's, just to hang out with them for a little bit longer today. Thanks for allowing me think about them again today. ❤️)