#if there is a problem with me you tell me and we work on it together. you do not just decide to train me like a dog.

[raidermomma]

I work for a solicitor, and the number of times we get shell-shocked women come through the door who've been blindsided by an out of the blue divorce, and can't even tell my boss about their assets or the details about their finances honestly makes me want to cry on a regular basis.

Ladies, nobody is saying its gonna go wrong, but if he's got a problem with you knowing these details, it's already gone wrong.

maybe i’m a joyless bitch but i actually do NOT think it’s funny to see women being like “the house is just in my husbands name” or “my husband makes all the money” or “i don’t even know who our mortgage is with” or “the only bank account/credit card is his and i get an allowance” like i do NOT find that cute or romantic and i am begging these women to Stand Up. you should at least be named on the deed to your house and the title to your car and the bank accounts even if you don’t pay for them/earn all the money. you can’t stop existing in the eyes of the law and the credit unions simply because you have a husband. if you’re raising his children and washing his socks half of everything he’s got is yours and it needs to be yours LEGALLY BY NAME. "he takes such good care of me :)" girl you are a PRISONER!! that’s all

[natalievoncatte]

Lena crouched down and carefully undid the buckle, pulling the watch from Lex’s limp wrist. His cold hand fell to the floor with a soft flopping sound and his eyes stared at nothing, unfocused and dull. Lena had once read that a dead man stared as if trying to solve a complex problem, but Lena did not see metaphor in her dead brother’s eyes. She saw only an absence that was a presence, a nothing that was somehow something.

Lex finally had his father’s eyes.

The gun was still heavy in her hand, her palm and wrist tingling from the force of recoil, ears still ringing from the blast. A single hole marked the center of her brother’s forehead; the meat of his genius was splattered across a bank of screens all playing surveillance footage of Kara performing inhuman feats.

(Two to the chest, one to the head, he had taught her, teaching her to repeat the mantra as he held her wrist to guide her aim as she took her very first shot)

The world was starting to come back, sweeping in. She couldn’t be here. She’d have to figure out what to do with the body and the evidence. She had to get out.

The interface on the watch was simple enough. The portal flashed open and she stepped through into her apartment. That could be convenient.

The watch crystal was dotted with her brother’s blood. She threw it and it skidded across the kitchen counter and it fell on the floor. She looked at the weapon in her hand. She would have powder burns.

Looking up, she spotted her reflection in the stainless steel of her fridge, blurred but real. There was red on her.

Lena never wore red.

There was more than she thought. She was covered in blood. In a panic, she ran for her bedroom and began shedding clothes on the tile floor of her bathrooms, wrapping the gun in a towel before throwing it on the bed. Stupid, stupid. That revolver was registered to her in Metropolis, and like all guns sold in-state, the police had a spent shell casing from it, fired and then stored for police records before it was sold.

Fuck.

Hot water blasted her skin. She let her hair fall down around her shoulders in wet locks like streaks of ink smeared across her pale skin.

(Why must you be so pale? You look like a dead fish.)

(That’s enough, mother. Leave Lena alone.)

She wasn’t sure when the tears started, or when she began to sob. She scrubbed at herself with a wash cloth and soap until her skin was raw and beet red. She was still sobbing when she stumbled out of the shower and threw on a robe, choking back tears as she sat on the edge of the bed.

She reached for her phone on the nightstand, but who to call?

Not long ago she’d have called Kara, or perhaps her sister. She could have called Nia or Brainy but they had all fucking lied to her. Even James. James knew while he was… while they…

It was Kara. Kara has asked her boyfriend to spy on her, questioned her motives.

Kara… Kara had lied most of all.

She stared at the phone. There was Sam, but Sam was away from all this madness, busy with her work and her daughter. Lena would just be a burden to her.

She stared at her list of contacts- the only people she knew outside of her employees and associates were in Kara’s circle, except for Sam…

…and Jack.

Lena jabbed the call button and waited.

It rang, rang, rang again.

Finally, he answered.

“Lena?”

“Hello, Jack.”

“I must say I’m surprised- it’s rather late, and we haven’t spoken in a while. What’s on your mind?”

“I shot Lex in the face,” Lena said, shocked by her own hollow, distant voice.

The line was silent for too long a beat.

“Dear God, you’re serious.”

Lena choked out a sob.

“I had to, Jack. She was never going to be safe while he was alive. He almost killed her this time. He would never let her live if he knew how I feel.”

“Lena, darling, please, you’re not making sense. Look- I’m booking a flight out there now, but please, stay calm and try to tell me what happened.”

She didn’t know where to start, so she went back to the beginning, when she had learned how to trace Lex’s portals and followed him back to his lair.

She stopped herself before she gave it away.

“He showed me Supergirl’s real identity. He had proof.”

“I see.”

“I… she…”

“It doesn’t matter who she is. It hurt you, I know that. Listen to me, Lena- I’ve charted a flight and I’ll be there in six hours. Where is the gun?”

“I have it here.”

“Unload it, please. Let me know when you’ve finished.”

Lena flicked open the cylinder and dumped the shells into her hand, three spent and two unfired, then closed it again.

“Now, lock it up.”

Once it was in the safe she said, “done.”

“Now I want you to lie down. Stay in the apartment and wait there for me, I’ll be there presently.”

For once in her life, Lena did as she was told. Somehow, she fell asleep and didn’t wake until she heard the intercom buzzing.

Without thinking she pulled on sweats and a Midvale High Mathletes sweatshirt.

Kara’s.

When she opened the door she found a haggard Jack Spheer on the other side. He was a little older, beard salted with gray, but he was still him.

He swept into the apartment without a word, found the liquor cabinet, and poured drinks.

“Talk to me.”

Lena sat down and downed her two fingers of scotch in one motion. He poured her another.

“Kara Danvers is Supergirl.”

“The Kara Danvers? Your reporter friend? Your best friend?”

He took a drink.

“Your crush?” he added.

Lena stared at him. He met her gaze levelly.

“What you said on the phone before I left. That he would never let her live if he knew how you felt.”

Lena’s throat felt like sandpaper. She took another drink. It didn’t help.

“She’s not… I’m not… I don’t…” The words would not take shape. “She lied to me,” Lena finally choked out. “She did something I shouldn’t forgive and she used her double life to play both side against me. I don’t know what part of our relationship was real now.”

Jack studied his drink for a long time. He picked up the bottle and pretended to read the label.

“The last time we spoke she seemed quite taken with you. I assume that Lex knew all of this, or most of it.”

“He knew the broad strokes, I’m sure. I think he hoped that if he showed me, I’d join him.”

“But you didn’t.”

“No,” Lena said, in a tiny whisper. “I killed him.”

“Your brother is dead.”

“Yes.”

He poured more drinks, another round for both of them.

“Tell me about him.”

“You’ve heard all the stories.��

“Tell me anyway.”

Lena considered that for a moment, then began talking, rattling off whatever popped into her head. She started with the first time she ever met her brother when he and Lionel had come to Ireland to take custody of her, then began jumping around in time from the treehouse he tried to build to the time he told Lillian he’d kill her if she hurt Lena to his college graduation to when he declared to her that he was going to kill Superman, as if it were the most obvious thing to do.

Eventfully she ran out of stories, and they were running out of scotch. There was enough for one more glass each.

It was The Next Day by now, and mid-morning sun filled the penthouse.

“Are you ready to tell me about her?”

She was. Lena began with the first time they met- the mousy little wannabe reporter who followed Superman into her office as he posed as a reporter, how the Man of Steel himself seemed unimportant compared to Kara, how even then her heart fluttered and she felt a hot pressure low in her hips and Kara seemed to feel spending too.

She told Jack all about it- not just Kara but Supergirl too, about the plane and the office full of flowers and the lunches and brunches and movie nights and how this woman had burrowed into her life and made a home there and gave a home in return, about all the times she had saved Lena’s life.

Again the words ran out.

“Do you want my advice?”

“Yes,” said Lena.

“Talk to her. The woman cares for you deeply, that much is clear. Talk to her and see where you stand.”

“But,”

He raised a hand. “I’m telling you this because I think you’ll listen to me. You want my real advice?”

Lena swallowed. “Yes.”

“Your psychopath brother is gone. You own and run a Fortune 50 company. You’re on a dozen lists, 30 under 30, most influential women… you have virtually unlimited wealth and, if I dare say so, a woman who loves you.”

Lena sucked in a breath.

“Take the money, take the girl,” said Jack, “and live your life.”

She looked down at the empty glass, feeling the cold austere minimalism of her stark penthouse around her, and the tears began to flow anew. She wrapped her arms around herself and didn’t flinch when Jack took her in a bear hug.

“I want what’s best for you, and right now I think what’s best for you is ignoring that little voice in your head that’s telling you to blow up your life because you think you can’t be happy.”

“I knew,” Lena finally admitted. “I knew the whole time. I knew she was Supergirl and I knew I was in love with her.”

Lena wept softly on his shoulder for a time. He ended up staying the day and slept on her couch before leaving to return to Metropolis.

She was still wearing Kara’s sweater when she made the call.

“Lena? Are you alright? I was worried about you,” Kara said.

“Please come over,” Lena whispered. “I need to see you, Kara. You can come in through the balcony. The door is open.”

There was a too-long pause, and then the double impact of Supergirl’s boot heels on the concrete.

[sugarplum217]

The Fire We Make (Part One)

Pairing: Terry Richmond X Black Female/Plus Size/Curvy Reader, MDNI

Authors Note: Hi guys, please be kind this is my first story on here and I hope you all enjoy it . Comment and tell me your thoughts.

Warnings: very heavy smut, unprotected sex, nasty & dirty talk, mention’s of abuse, triggering topics, not suitable for anyone under 18+, oral sex, sort of a slow burn, casual sex, fluff, use of the N word, AAVE, somewhat age gap relationship, mentions of verbal abuse, use of abusive lanuage. Do not copy or steal my work.

Summary: You came back to Elizabeth, South Carolina, to handle Nana Rosalyn’s land and tie up some loose ends, sign a few papers, and be on the next flight back to her real life. Simple. Or at least, that’s what she thought. Enter Terry Richmond: ex-Marine, built like a damn problem, and apparently living in your grandmother’s house like it’s his own. He’s quiet, unreadable, and way too fine for your peace of mind. Between the thick summer heat, old memories creeping in, and the way Terry keeps looking at you like he sees straight through you, one thing is clear…..This trip might not be so simple after all.

They say there’s no place like home, and maybe once upon a time, you would’ve agreed. Back when summers here meant running barefoot through the grass, shelling peas with Nana on the front porch, and falling asleep to the sound of crickets and old gospel humming through the walls. But that was a long time ago. Before life had a chance to show you just how cruel it could be. Now, sitting in front of your grandmother’s house, all you feel is the weight of everything you tried to outrun. The air is thick, heavy with that signature South Carolina heat, clinging to your skin like a second layer. Even the damn trees look the same—tall, unmoving, watching you like they know you don’t belong here anymore.

This place holds secrets. Buried in the dirt, woven into the foundation of this house, settled deep in your bones no matter how much distance you put between you and it. You swore you’d never come back. Swore you left this town and everything in it behind the moment your father died and your mother made it clear she wanted nothing to do with his side of the family. And yet, here you are. Staring at the same porch you once sat on as a little girl, knees scraped up from playing too rough, hands sticky from fresh peaches Nana sliced up just for you. Except now, Nana is gone. And her house—this land—is yours. The air inside the rental car was thick, heavy with the kind of heat that made it hard to breathe. The A/C worked overtime, but it was barely spitting out enough cool air to do anything besides tease your skin. The heat still clung to you like an unwanted memory, curling around your neck, sticking to the crease of your thighs, making your tank top feel like a second skin.

You gripped the steering wheel, staring straight ahead at the house that used to feel like a second home—but now? Now, it just felt like a reminder of everything you tried to outrun. Your stomach twisted, nerves tangling themselves into something tight and uncomfortable. You hadn’t stepped foot in this place in years. Hadn’t even had a reason to. Not since—You inhaled sharply, cutting the thought off before it could sink its teeth in.It wasn’t like you had much of a choice being here now. Your grandmother’s passing made sure of that. And as much as you wanted to sit here, let the A/C struggle against the heat, and pretend you weren’t parked in front of the very place you swore you’d never come back to… you knew you couldn’t avoid it forever.

But damn, if you didn’t want to try. The loud buzz of your phone rattling against the cup holder snapped you out of your thoughts. The sudden sound made you flinch, your heart kicking up like you’d just been caught doing something you had no business doing. You blinked, shaking off the moment before grabbing your phone and swiping the screen without even checking the caller ID.

“Girl,” you groaned, already knowing who it was.

“I know that ain’t attitude I hear,” Tasha’s voice came through clear, dragging her words like she already knew what time it was.

“Of course it’s a damn attitude, I’m hot, sticky and do you know I had to drive a whole 4 hours from the damn airport?!” you grumbled, shifting in your seat.

“This ain’t my scene, Tasha. I’m sweating, my thighs sticking together, and the air out here smells like—” You paused, inhaling deeply. “Like grass, hot stank wood, and somebody’s granddaddy’s chewing tobacco. I ain’t cut out for this country-ass shit.”

Tasha cackled on the other end. “Now girl, your ass been there for all of five minutes and already ready to run back to the city?”

You sighed dramatically, wiping at the light sheen of sweat on your chest. “Girl, I ain’t even turned the damn car off yet.”

“The way your Nana used to talk about that place, you’d think it was paradise.” She snickered.

You snorted, side-eyeing the house. “Meanwhile, I pull up, and it’s giving—”

“Ghetto woods.” Tasha cut in, taking the thought right from your brain as if she was looking through it.

“Exactly.” You rolled your eyes, glancing at the property that inspite of it being ages since you had been there, things looked pretty decent.

Tasha hummed knowingly. “And yet, here you are.”

“Not because I wanna be here Tasha.. You know that,” you shook your head, inhaling deep againing as a exasperated sigh left your sticky gloss filled lips, “If it were up to me, I would have let my uncle’s and drunk fool of an aunt fight over this place.” You added, with a nonchalant shrug.

“Didn’t you tell me that none of your daddy’s siblings were her kids? So how in the hell would that even have worked?” Tasha questioned, and rightfully so.

None of your father’s siblings belonged to your sweet Nana Rosalyn. They were products of her late husband’s constant infidelities during their entire relationship and even part of their marriage. She had been young when she married him, head over heels for a man who sold her dreams but only ever delivered nightmares. And when the truth of his betrayals became undeniable, she made one thing clear—she wasn’t having no damn kids by a man who couldn’t keep his vows. But then life played its own hand.

Your father came later, unexpectedly, and he was her one and only, her redemption after years of being shackled to a man who never deserved her. And because he was born from love and not betrayal, Nana cherished him more than anything in this world. That alone was enough to breed resentment.

The siblings never could stay on one page. Too much history, too much pain, too much deep-rooted hate for the way your father had been the baby and the favorite. Your grandfather’s other children—some older than your father by decades—never let him forget that he was the only one born into real love, not just obligation. They carried that bitterness, wielded it like a knife, slicing through any chance of peace in the family.

And Nana? She may have loved them in her own way, but she wasn’t blind. She saw how they moved, how they made her son’s life hell, how they took every opportunity to remind him that, in their eyes, he was an outsider in his own bloodline. So, she made a decision. She wrote them out of her will. All of them.

Every last one of your grandfather’s children got nothing but the memories they made and the grudges they refused to let go of. Instead, she left everything to your father. And when he passed, she made sure that her estate—her house, her land, every last piece of what she worked her whole life for—would go to you. Because she knew they would never do right by her legacy. And truth be told? You didn’t blame her one bit.

Still, you never could understand how she stayed. How she spent years, decades, by the side of a man who disrespected her with every child he brought home. How she smiled and cooked and raised kids that weren’t even hers. How she carried the weight of a marriage that gave her nothing but heartache. If it had been you? That man would’ve met his damn maker on some railroad tracks.

“It wouldn’t have worked because she didn’t leave their asses a damn thing, not one fucking dime or penny. I can’t really say I blame her though because she took good care of them and when she needed somebody, those greedy motherfuckas weren't there.” You huffed, tone bitter and cold at the thought of how none of your father’s siblings even showed up for him, once he got sick.

Tasha let out a low whistle on the other end. “Damn. So Nana just cut them off completely?”

“Completely.” You adjusted in your seat, the leather burning the back of your thighs. “She ain’t leave them a damn thing. No land, no money, not even a ‘God bless you’ in that will. Just my daddy, and when he passed, it all came to me.”

Tasha hummed, her tone knowing. “And that’s why they got all that hate in their hearts.”

“Like I give a damn.” You rolled your eyes, reaching for your water bottle. The condensation dripped onto your fingers as you took a swig, but the lukewarm liquid didn’t do much against the heat. “I just need to handle this shit and get the fuck back to New York. I ain’t got time for all this country backwoods drama. This place suffocates me.”

“Girl, you've been there ten minutes… And you already sound like you are fighting for your life. ” She giggled, making you roll your eyes again.

“Because I am,” you stressed, flipping the sun visor down and fanning yourself with the nearest piece of mail you found in the passenger seat. “I step outside, and I swear the air is thick like molasses. The trees leaning in too damn close, like they trying to hear my business. I can’t even breathe right.”

Tasha cackled, fully enjoying your suffering. “You sound so damn dramatic.”

“Ain’t shit dramatic about the truth, Tasha,” you shot back. “I need to get in here, get this property situation squared away, and then I’m ghost. I’m going back to where the streets don’t smell like wet grass, and the heat don’t feel like it got hands.”

Tasha smacked her lips. “Mmhmm. Keep talking that ‘I’m leaving soon’ shit. Something tell me you gon’ be there longer than you think.”

You sucked your teeth, flipping her off even

though she couldn’t see it. “Yeah, alright. Let me get off this phone before I melt in this damn car.”

Tasha laughed again. “Hit me later. And don’t get your thick ass into any mess.”

You snorted. “Me? Never.”

With that, you ended the call, tossing the phone back into the cup holder. Taking one last deep breath, you reached for the door handle, already bracing yourself for the suffocating heat waiting outside. The sooner you handled this, the sooner you could leave. At least, that’s what you kept telling yourself. Immediately, the heat wraps around you like a thick-ass quilt fresh out the dryer.

“Damn,” you mutter, shifting your shorts as you grab your bag from the backseat. The old house stands in front of you, still the same shade of off-white, still with that wrap-around porch your Nana used to sit on every evening with her sweet tea. The screen door creaks when you walk up the steps, but you aren’t worried. You already know where the key is. Just like when you were little, it sits right under the worn-out mat. You bend down, grab it, and unlock the door, stepping into the house. The air smells like lemons, cedarwood, and something else you can’t quite place. Your fingers brush over the familiar wooden banister as you walk through the hallway, a strange mix of comfort and melancholy settling in your chest. Just as you were about to sit your purse to the side, the sound of sudden footsteps alerted you. You paused your movements as you listened closely to the steps nearing closer, coming from the end of the hall. Immediately the unfamiliar scent you had picked up on earlier, became stronger as the heavy steps came towards the living area. Soon the footsteps halted and you

You froze and your breath caught in your throat as your eyes snapped toward the hallway. And then, stepping around the corner, a man appeared. A very fine, very built, very wet man. Fresh out the shower, droplets still clung to his deep caramel skin, highlighting every hard-cut muscle like he was sculpted straight out of bronze. A white towel sat dangerously low on his hips, barely hanging on, and his broad, glistening chest rose and fell in slow, even breaths. His shoulders were massive, arms thick with veins that ran down to strong, capable hands. But his face? Strong jaw. Full lips. A nose that screamed royalty. And his eyes—God, his eyes—a stormy mix of hazel and gray that shifted with the light, catching hints of ocean blue, hell maybe even green when the sun hit them just right. For a second, neither of you moved but then—

“Who the hell are you?” His voice was deep, rough, carrying an authority that made your stomach flip.

“NO! Who in the hell are you?” you shrieked back, stepping further into the house but keeping a tight grip on your car keys—because you might just have to stab this man.

His brows furrowed slightly, gaze flicking over you like he was assessing whether you were a threat. “I live here. What the hell you doin’ breaking in?”

You damn near choked. “Breaking in?! I live here!”

His nostrils flared slightly before something in his expression shifted. His shoulders eased, his jaw relaxed just a fraction, and then he exhaled like something just clicked.

“Wait…” He dragged a hand down his face, water trailing along his fingers. “You—You Rosalyn’s granddaughter?”

Your chest still rose and fell from the adrenaline rush. “Yeah. Who’s asking?”

“Terry, Terry Richmond..” He said like that was supposed to mean something to you. When you just stared, he nodded toward the mantle, where an old framed photo of your Nana and you sat beside a dusty Bible. “She used to talk about you all the time. Should’ve recognized you.”

You blinked. Once. Twice. “You mean to tell me my grandmother didn’t just leave me this house, she left me a roommate? Just great…” Your voice trailed off, annoyance seeping from your tone. Terry smirked at you, slow and knowing, and somehow, that tiny expression made him look even finer. He leaned against the doorway like he had all the time in the world, eyes dragging over you now like he was trying to figure you out. You instantly felt uncomfortable under his gaze as crossed your arms, shifting your weight to one hip.

“So, you’re telling me you were my Nana’s caretaker?” You suspiciously questioned.

“That’s exactly what I’m tellin’ you.”

You narrowed your eyes. “If that’s true, how come I ain’t see you at her funeral?” You tilted your head, watching him closely. “You supposed to have been close to her, right? Where were you?”

His jaw tightened slightly, but his expression stayed unreadable. “I was there.”

Your lips parted, but he cut you off before you could press him.

“I sat in the back.” His voice was even, calm. “Ain’t family, so I kept my distance.” His stormy eyes flickered with something unreadable as he added, “Ain’t too fond of church anyway.”

You almost called his bluff, ready to argue, but then—

A memory flashed in your mind.

Most of that day was a blur, but… there was someone sitting alone at the back of the church. A man, broad and still, his head dipped low, hands clasped together like he was deep in thought—or prayer. He never moved, never spoke, just sat there, solid as stone, while grief and sorrow swirled around the room.

It could’ve been him. But then again… your memory of that day was shaky at best.

You had gotten high out of your mind just to get through it. Hit a blunt in your car before even stepping foot in that church. And then there was the tequila—more than a few shots—because there was no way in hell you were about to face your father’s side of the family sober. The whole funeral was a blur. You barely remembered the service, barely remembered speaking. Even now, when you tried to pull up details, they slipped through your fingers like water. Still… you felt like you should remember someone as fine as him. Your eyes flickered over him again—the sharp cut of his jaw, the way his towel clung just low enough to test your focus, those ocean-storm eyes watching you with quiet patience.

Yeah. There was no way you wouldn’t have noticed him.

“…Hmph.” You didn’t realize you made the sound out loud until his lips twitched.

“That a problem?” he asked, voice edged with amusement.

You rolled your eyes. “No. Just making sure you ain’t lying.”

He huffed a quiet chuckle, shaking his head as he continued to lean his body on the doorframe, still way too at ease for your liking. Something about him told you he was telling the truth. Despite the weirdness of finding out you suddenly had a damn roommate, you had to admit—it was kind of a relief. At least you wouldn’t have to struggle dragging your suitcases inside by yourself. But asking him for help? Yeah. That was the real challenge.

You cleared your throat, plastering on your sweetest smile as you tilted your head slightly. “Umm… so Terry, is it?”

“Mmhmm.” He raised an eyebrow, his full lips twitching like he already knew where this was going.

You hesitated, shifting on your feet. “You mind helping me with my luggage?”

Terry let out a low chuckle, deep and rich, before shaking his head. “After you just basically called me a liar?” He sucked his teeth. “Your Nana wasn’t lying when she said you was a piece of work. Said your little ass always needed a good spanking.”

For some damn reason, that sent a tingle straight to your pussy, making you shift uncomfortably. You quickly cleared your throat, rolling your eyes to cover your reaction. “Whatever. You helping or not?”

His smirk deepened, eyes darkening just a little as he let the moment linger. Then, after a beat, he pushed off the doorframe. “Yeah, yeah. Just let me get some clothes on first.” He gave you a lazy once-over before adding, “Can’t have the helpless princess out here struggling, now can I?”

You scoffed, crossing your arms. “I ain’t helpless.”

“Uh-huh.” Terry just laughed under his breath and shook his head as he turned toward the hallway. You rolled your eyes again but couldn’t stop yourself from glancing down as he walked away. And damn. His back was all muscle, broad and defined, tapering into a tight waist. And that ass? Whew. Tight, round, sitting just right in that towel. You didn’t even realize you were staring until he suddenly glanced over his shoulder.

Busted.

You quickly averted your gaze, looking anywhere but at him. But you weren’t the only one caught slipping. Because as you quickly moved past him to head upstairs to your old room, you felt his eyes trailing down, and lingering on the curve of your thick thighs before he snapped his gaze back up, clearing his throat. As Terry disappeared down the hall to throw on some clothes, you made your way up the stairs, your feet moving on autopilot toward your old bedroom. The door creaked as you pushed it open, and the moment you stepped inside, nostalgia wrapped around you like a thick, heavy blanket.

Everything was still in place. The same twin bed with the floral comforter Nana Rosalyn had bought you when you were ten. The same wooden dresser, still covered in stickers you had no business putting on there. Even the faint scent of lavender and brown sugar lingered in the air, like Nana had just been in here yesterday and not… Your throat tightened as you swallowed against the thought. You hadn’t really let yourself think about it—her being gone. You’d done everything you could to avoid feeling it, pushing it down so deep you could almost pretend it wasn’t real. But standing here, surrounded by all these pieces of your childhood, it hit you like a gut punch. She was actually gone and now you were here, back in this house that held more love than you’d ever felt anywhere else, but she wasn’t.

Your vision blurred as you ran your fingers over the old wooden vanity, tracing the edges where the paint had started to chip. A lump formed in your throat, but before you could get too lost in your feelings—

Your phone buzzed loud as hell from your pocket.

With a sharp inhale, you wiped at your eyes and pulled it out, already groaning when you saw the name on the screen. It was your darling mother dearest, the last person you wanted to speak to at the moment. You debated letting it go to voicemail, but you already knew she’d just keep calling. So, with a deep sigh, you answered.

“Hello?” You took a seat on the edge of your old bed.

“Took you long enough.” Her voice was dry, clipped. No hey baby, no how was your trip? Just straight to the point, like always. “Did you make it?”

You clenched your jaw. “Yeah, I’m here..”

“Hmph.” A pause. Then, “Well, please hurry up and sell that damn place. I told your daddy when he was alive to put that woman in a home and get rid of it.”

Your grip on the phone tightened, anger bubbling up fast. “That woman was my grandmother… and your mother in law–”

“And your father’s biggest mistake,” she shot back, voice sharp as glass. “He let that old country woman manipulate him his whole life. Should’ve cut the cord a long time ago instead of running behind her like a lost puppy.”

You squeezed your eyes shut, inhaling deeply through your nose. “You know what, Ma? I don’t wanna do this with you right now.”

She let out a dramatic sigh, the kind she always did when she was about to make you feel like you were the problem. “Oh, please. I’m just trying to get you to do the smart thing for once. That house ain’t nothing but a money pit. Sell it and move on.”

You bit down on your tongue so hard you swore you tasted blood. Before you could say anything else, she switched gears, her tone suddenly shifting into something damn near sweet. “By the way, did you get that link I sent you?”

Your stomach dropped.

You knew exactly what she was talking about, but you played dumb anyway. “What link?”

“The link to the doctor,” she said, like it should’ve been obvious. “The one I told you about for the weight loss surgery. Dr. Reynolds. He’s the best in Atlanta. Books up fast, so you need to get on it. His prices are fairly reasonable and I think he accepts most major insurances.”

“Wow. Not even ten minutes into this conversation, and you already back on that shit.” You let out a bitter laugh, shaking your head.

“Oh, don’t start,” she huffed. “I’m helping you. You’d actually be able to keep a man if you lost some of that weight.”

There it was. That same damn wound she’d been digging into your whole life. You could still hear her voice from when you were a kid, standing in front of the mirror in some dress she’d picked out, sucking in your stomach while she pinched at your waist.

“No man wants a fat wife, baby. You don’t wanna end up like those big, miserable women who can’t even get a date.”

And then your daddy, always stepping in, always fighting for you.

“Leave her alone, Monique. She’s perfect just the way she is.”

But your mama never listened. Not then, and definitely not now.

You exhaled slowly, forcing yourself to stay calm. “I’m not having this conversation with you.”

“Oh, so you like struggling to find clothes in your size? You like being the biggest one in the room?” she snapped. “I don’t know why you’re so damn stubborn. I’m trying to help you, and you act like I’m the enemy.”

You let out a humorless chuckle. “Maybe because you are…”

She gasped like you’d just slapped her. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me,” you said, voice flat. “And I’m done talking about this.”

Silence stretched between you for a moment before she scoffed. “Fine. Be fat and alone for the rest of your life. See if I care.” And with that, the line went dead. You pulled the phone away from your ear, staring at the screen until it blurred. You shouldn’t have been surprised. This was classic Monique Walker. Still, it hurt like hell. Tears slipped down your cheeks before you even realized they’d fallen. Your hand tightened around your phone as you gritted your teeth, voice barely above a whisper but thick with emotion.

“I swear, I fucking hate her.” You seethed. The words felt heavy leaving your mouth, but damn if they weren’t true in that moment. You swiped at your face roughly, sniffling, before your eyes drifted over to the small wooden dresser in the corner. Your breath caught as your gaze landed on a framed photo of Nana Rosalyn, her warm brown eyes staring back at you, lips curved into that soft smile she always had whenever she looked at you. She had loved you, no conditions, no judgments, no backhanded comments about your weight or your worth. Just pure, unshakable love.

You exhaled, blinking back more tears as you whispered, “I miss you, Nana. I wish you were here.”

The air in the room felt heavier, like she was listening. Like she was there in some way. You let yourself sit with the feeling for a moment, let yourself pretend you weren’t completely alone. Then the sound of footsteps and the scrape of something heavy against the floor made you snap back to reality. You turned just as Terry strolled in, carrying both of your heavy-ass suitcases like they weighed nothing. His arms flexed with each effortless step, muscles glistening with a light sheen of sweat, the white ribbed wife beater he had on stretching tight across his chest. His cargo shorts hung low on his hips, showcasing strong, toned thighs, and with every movement, the fabric shifted just enough to make your thoughts derail.

Damn….

Toni Braxton’s You’re Makin’ Me High played faintly in the back of your mind, slow and sultry, like the universe was tryna set you up. Your thighs clenched involuntarily as heat licked up your spine. This nigga was too damn fine, and he knew it. You barely heard whatever the hell he was saying because your brain had short-circuited the second he stepped into the room, muscles on display like some damn fantasy come to life. It wasn’t until his deep voice cut through the fog in your head, low and laced with something you couldn’t quite place, that you realized you were staring.

“You good?”

Your breath hitched abruptly. “H-Huh?”

His hazel-gray eyes flickered over your face, studying you. “You was cryin’?”

You blinked fast, quickly wiping at your damp cheeks, trying to play it off. “Uh… yeah. But I’m fine. Just… thinking about my grandma. It’s been a while since I’ve been here.”

Terry didn’t say anything right away. He just set your suitcases down near the foot of the bed, then leaned back against the wall, arms crossing over his broad chest. His eyes never left your face, unreadable and steady, like he was taking in more than just your words.

“Yeah,” he said after a beat, voice softer now. “I know how that feel.”

You swallowed, suddenly feeling a little too exposed under his gaze. “You ever lost somebody close?”

His jaw twitched slightly. “Yeah.”

The way he said it—short, clipped, like he wasn’t ready to unpack that—made you nod and let it go. Silence stretched between you, but it wasn’t exactly uncomfortable. Just… thick.

Heavy.

Charged.

Terry’s eyes lingered on you a second longer before he exhaled through his nose, pushing off the wall. “Aight, well, if you need help with anything else, just let me know.” He turned to leave, and you should’ve let him go. Should’ve just said thanks and let him walk out. But instead, before you even knew what you were doing, the words tumbled out.

“Terry.”

He stopped, looking at you over his shoulder, brow raised slightly. “What’s up?”

You hesitated, lips parting, then closing again as you tried to figure out what the hell you were even about to say. You just… didn’t want to be alone. Not right now.

“…Never mind,” you murmured, shaking your head. “It’s nothing.”

Terry didn’t press. He just gave you a long, lingering look before nodding once.

“Aight, then.” And with that, he walked out, leaving you alone with your thoughts—and the lingering heat he’d left in the room.

“Heavenly father give me the strength.” You sighed, flopping backwards on the old childhood bed. You had no idea how you were not only going to survive cleaning out your grandmother’s home of history, and memories. But now you had to figure out how you were going to do all of that with an extremely sexy and fine added edition to the puzzle. Your nana always had a way of being funny, even in the afterlife it seemed.

The heat had been relentless all day, and after everything—the long drive, the tension with your mother, the weight of being back in this house—you needed to wash it all away. Stepping into the shower, you let the cool water run over your skin, sighing as it soothed you, easing the sticky film of sweat and stress clinging to your body. The scent of your Dove vanilla & shea body wash filled the air, mixing with the lingering humidity as you lathered yourself, fingers gliding over curves that you tried not to think too much about. But the moment you stepped out and reached for your towel, reality smacked you in the face. It barely fit. You huffed, tugging at the edges, trying to cover as much as possible, but no matter how you adjusted, something was exposed. Your thighs, thick and soft. The curve of your ass peeking from the bottom. Your cleavage straining against the top. Your mother’s voice slithered into your head, uninvited.

You need to do something about that weight. A man isn’t going to want all that.

You swallowed, turning toward the mirror, your fingers instinctively gripping the towel tighter as you stared at your reflection. Your stomach wasn’t flat. Your thighs touched. Your arms weren’t slim. Maybe she was right. Maybe— A sharp knock at the door startled you, making you jump. Before you could even react, the door swung open.

Terry stepped inside like he owned the place, holding an envelope, his mouth already moving. “Your Nana left you a letter, figured you’d—” His words stopped short. His entire body stilled. Your breath caught in your throat.

You didn’t know if it was the shock of him barging in unannounced or the way his stormy gray, hazel-green eyes flicked down—slow and deliberate, like a man taking in a sight he knew he wasn’t supposed to see but couldn’t help himself. His gaze dragged over you, over the bare curve of your thighs, the deep dip of your cleavage, the towel that did little to hide any of it. And for a split second—just a split second—you saw sensual lust. Something dark and unreadable flashing in his eyes before he blinked it away, locking his expression into something neutral. Like he hadn’t just been openly devouring you with his eyes.

“Terry, what the hell?! Ever heard of knocking?” You yanked the towel tighter, heat rushing to your face. His gaze lifted to yours, slow and unbothered, as he leaned casually against the doorframe, his biceps flexing just enough to make you want to scream.

“Didn’t know you’d be indecent,” he said smoothly, though his voice was just the slightest bit rougher than before.

“I just got out the shower!” you hissed, shifting your weight, hyper-aware of how exposed you were. “What do you want?”

Terry, still infuriatingly relaxed, held up the envelope. “Your Nana left you a letter. I was instructed that soon as you arrive to give it to you.”

You glared. “And you couldn’t wait until I wasn’t half-naked before busting up in here?”

He shrugged, eyes glinting with something too smug for your liking. “Wasn’t expecting a show.”

Your mouth fell open. “Boy, if you don’t—”

“You gon’ take this letter or keep fussin’?” he interrupted, stepping closer, holding the envelope just out of reach like he wanted to make you work for it.

You snatched it from his hand, still scowling. “Get out.”

But he didn’t move right away.

Instead, his gaze lingered, just for a second too long. Just enough to make your thighs press together, to make your skin prickle with awareness. Then, finally, he turned to leave. But right before stepping out, he glanced back over his shoulder, his smirk damn near lethal.

“Nice towel, by the way.” And just like that, he was gone.

You stood there, heart pounding, body still tingling from the heat of his stare.

This man was gonna be a problem, you thought to yourself. You flopped down on the bed, still clutching the towel like it was the only thing keeping you from completely losing your mind.

“That nigga done lost his damn mind,” you muttered, shaking your head. “Barging in here like he payin’ rent.” Your body was still humming from the intensity of his stare, the way he’d looked at you like he saw everything and had the nerve to act like it ain’t affect him. Like he wasn’t phased, but you knew he was. And now, here you were, sitting on your old bed, legs still damp from the shower, wrapped up in this raggedy-ass towel, heart still racing. You sighed, finally turning your attention to the envelope in your lap. Your childhood nickname was written in familiar, neat cursive across the front.

Your heart clenched as a lump formed in your throat. Your fingers trembled slightly as you opened it, pulling out a piece of aged, cream-colored paper. You could almost smell her as you unfolded it—cocoa butter, vanilla, and something soft, like the scent of home. Then you began to read.

My Sweet Sunshine,

If you’re reading this, that means the Good Lord finally saw fit to call me home. Now, don’t you go sittin’ there cryin’, ‘cause you know I lived a full life, and I ain’t scared of no Heaven. I done raised my babies, spoiled my grandbabies, and loved with my whole heart. That’s more than some folks ever get to do.

Sunshine, I know you didn’t want to come back here. I know that city’s got its hooks in you, and I ain’t mad at it—never was. You always had big dreams, always wanted more than this little town could offer. But baby, don’t you ever let nobody make you feel like you ain’t enough just as you are. Not your mama, not them folks whisperin’ behind your back, nobody.

You always was my bright star, even when you ain’t see it yourself. Even when you was a little thing, sittin’ on my porch, talkin’ ‘bout how you didn’t feel pretty enough, or small enough, or good enough. I used to tell you then, and I’ll tell you now—you are enough. God made you just the way you s’posed to be. Don’t let the world tell you otherwise.

Now, about this house—I know it might not mean much to you right now, but baby, this ain’t just wood and nails. This is our history. This is where I loved your granddaddy, where I raised your daddy, where I held you in my arms and rocked you to sleep when life got too big for you. It ain’t just a house—it’s home.

I don’t expect you to stay forever, but I do expect you to sit with it for a little while. Let the memories wrap around you. Let yourself feel whatever you been runnin’ from. And don’t you let nobody make you do nothin’ you don’t wanna do. Not even your mama.

Take your time, baby. I love you bigger than the sky.

Always, Nana

Tears blurred your vision before you even finished. You pressed the letter to your chest, inhaling shakily…She knew… She always knew. And just like that, all the emotions you’d been pushing down, all the grief, all the anger, all the damn confusion, came bubbling up to the surface. You curled your legs up onto the bed, hugging the letter like it was the last piece of her you had left. And for the first time since you got here… you let yourself cry.

As you wiped the last of your tears away, you pulled yourself together, slipping into a simple oversized ‘90s-themed graphic T-shirt that stopped just below your ass, paired with black boy shorts that hugged your curves. Your fur slides slid easily onto your feet, accentuating the shimmer of your two delicate anklets against your smooth brown skin. Your toes, freshly done in a clean French acrylic set, peeked out perfectly, proof that even on your worst days, you refused to neglect the little things that made you feel like you. Your damp curls were drying into their natural coils, wild and free, and for the first time since stepping into this house, you felt somewhat like yourself again. Then, just as you were about to head downstairs, voices floated up from the front door. A woman’s voice. Sweet, a little too breathy, laced with the kind of forced shyness that women used when they were trying to be cute. You paused, leaning slightly against the railing as you listened.

“Terry, you really ain’t have to do all that. I swear, you a lifesaver.”

“Mmhmm,” came Terry’s deep, unbothered reply.

You stepped forward just enough to peek over the banister, instantly rolling your eyes at the sight in front of you. A woman—slim, with long curly hair cascading down her back, a high round booty sitting just right, and a rack that was damn near spilling out of her little sundress—was standing way too close to Terry, handing him a plate wrapped in foil. And the way she was looking at him? Yeah. She was on that.

“Oh, and here’s the money I promised you.” She slipped a few bills into his hand, her fingers lingering a little too long against his palm. “And I made you a little something as a thank you… some smothered pork chops, greens, mac and cheese, and cornbread.”

You smirked slightly. Cornbread looking a little dry.

Terry took the plate with a nod, glancing down at it. “Appreciate it, Celeste.”

Celeste. Figures.

She bit her lip, her eyes scanning over him like he was a damn menu. “And I made a little pound cake too. My mama’s recipe. But I guess you’ll just have to tell me how it tastes next time I see you.”

You sucked your teeth. Girl, be for real.

Terry, still unreadable as ever, just smirked slightly, shifting the plate to one hand. “I’ll let you know.”

Celeste giggled, reaching up to play with a stray curl like she knew she was the baddest thing standing in that doorway. “You know, Terry… you should really stop by sometime. I got plenty of food, and my son’s at his grandma’s for the summer, so…” She trailed off, her meaning clear. You folded your arms, arching a brow as you waited to see how he was gonna play it.

Terry, ever cool, leaned one broad shoulder against the doorframe, looking down at her with a knowing expression. “That right?”

She nodded, batting her lashes. “Mmhmm. You know, a man like you shouldn’t have to eat alone.”

Terry exhaled, shaking his head slightly. “Celeste.”

“Hmm?” She replied breathily, trying to act innocent.

“I ain’t interested.” The words landed so casually, so smoothly, that for a second, she didn’t even process them.

But then her lips parted slightly, her cheeks darkening in embarrassment. “Oh… um, well…”

“But I do appreciate the food,” he added, nodding toward the plate. “Your little boy needed that room fixed up, so it wasn’t no big deal.”

Celeste recovered quickly, forcing a laugh. “Right, right. Well, um… enjoy, Terry.”

He gave her a simple nod before closing the door, shaking his head as he turned toward the kitchen. You, still standing at the top of the stairs, watched the whole thing unfold, biting back a smirk. Celeste was pretty, no doubt. Probably more his type. But the way he had shut her down so smoothly? Interesting…. Very interesting. You padded down the stairs, moving casually into the kitchen, acting like you hadn’t just been eavesdropping on that whole embarrassing exchange. Terry was standing at the counter, peeling back the foil on the plate, and the expression on his face had you fighting back a laugh. He looked… disturbed. You leaned against the fridge, arms folded as you watched him poke at the smothered pork chops with his fork. The sauce looked a little too gray for comfort, the mac and cheese had a strange, gluey texture, and the cornbread? Yeah… dry as hell. He let out a slow breath, tilting the plate slightly as if inspecting it under better lighting was gonna change the fact that it looked like a crime scene.

“Damn, she really put her whole heart into that, huh?” You smirked.

Terry cut his eyes at you, his expression flat. “Don’t start.”

You laughed, moving toward the cabinets. “I’m just sayin’. If you value your life, you might wanna pass on that.”

He set the plate down, shaking his head. “Damn shame. I did all that work and got paid in food poisoning.”

You chuckled, pulling out a pan and setting it on the stove. “Lucky for you, I actually know how to cook.”

Terry leaned against the counter, arms crossing over his chest as he watched you. “Oh yeah?”

You rolled your eyes. “Yes, boy. I can throw down. What you want?”

He smirked slightly. “Something that won’t require me to get my stomach pumped.”

“Keep talkin’ shit, and I’ma lace your food with extra salt.” You shot him a playful glare, going towards the fridge to see if there was even anything cookable for you to whip up a quick meal. Terry chuckled, watching you move around the kitchen with an ease that he could appreciate.

“Aight, then little mama. Let’s see what’chu workin with.” He joked, licking his plump bottom lip. You fought the surge of butterflies in your tummy as your french acrylic nails gripped the counter, to steady yourself. Turning toward the fridge, you pull it open and blink in surprise at the contents—fresh meats, crisp produce, eggs, dairy. Whoever stocked this place before you arrived really knew what they were doing.

“You did all this?” You softly ask, glancing over your shoulder at Terry.

He leaned against the counter, arms crossed over his broad chest. “Had groceries delivered before you got here. Figured you’d want a stocked fridge.”

You bite the inside of your cheek, trying not to let that small, thoughtful gesture soften you. Instead, you hum and start pulling out the ingredients.

“Alright,” you say, setting things down on the counter. “I’m making honey-glazed salmon, garlic butter asparagus, and jasmine rice.”

Terry raises an eyebrow. “Hony glazed?”

You smirk, not letting him off the hook. “What? You thought I was only good for frying chicken and making cornbread?”

His lips twitch like he’s trying not to smile. “Didn’t say that.”

“Mm-hmm.” You grab a cutting board and get to work, dicing, seasoning, and moving around the kitchen like it’s second nature. The wine Nana he had ordered as well was surprisingly good, and after a few sips, the tension from the day starts to slipped off your shoulders.

Terry watches you, quiet at first, before finally speaking up. “So… what kept you away?”

You pause for only a second before continuing to chop the asparagus. “What do you mean?”

“From your Nana. You used to visit all the time, then you just stopped.” His eyes don’t waver. The question hits harder than you expect.

You swallow and focus on the cutting board. “My mom.”

Terry stays quiet, just waiting, giving you the space to continue.

You sigh, stirring the honey glaze in a small saucepan. “Nana was my dad’s mother. When he died, my mom didn’t see the point in us coming down here anymore. She never liked my Nana anyway.”

“Why?” His eyebrow perked up.

You let out a humorless laugh and shake your head. “Because she’s an elitist. My mom grew up privileged, went to the best schools, rubbed elbows with all the right people. She married my dad because he was successful, but she never respected where he came from. And when he passed, she made it clear that his side of the family didn’t fit into her world.”

Terry’s gaze feels heavy, and the weight of it makes your throat tighten.

You flip the salmon in the pan, watching the glaze caramelize. “I wanted to come back,” you admit softly. “I always told myself I would. I promised Nana I’d visit.” You exhale shakily. “But life kept getting in the way… and now, I’ll never get that time back.”

The silence that follows is thick—understanding without pity, heavy without pressure.

You wipe the corner of your eye before turning to face him fully. “But, um… I don’t really wanna keep digging into that.” You force a small smile. “What about you? How the hell did you end up here, taking care of my grandma and her land?”

Terry is quiet for a long time, his jaw shifting slightly. Then, finally, he speaks.

“I got out the Marines a few years ago,” he says, his voice steady. “Came back home, trying to get my life right, but shit has a way of following me...”

Something about the way he says it makes your stomach twist.

“What do you mean? Shit like what?” You cautiously questioned, not wanting to get all up in this man’s business, but at the same time you felt you had the slightest right. Terry stayed quiet for a long time, his jaw shifting slightly. Then, finally, he spoke.

“My cousin got into some trouble with the law a few years back,” he said, voice steady. “I went down to bail him out, but I ended up getting into some shit myself. Crooked-ass cops—racist bastards—decided they ain’t like me asking too many questions. Things got ugly real fast.”

Something about the way he says it made your stomach twist. “How bad did it get?”

Terry’s hazel-green eyes darken, something distant flickering in them. “Damn near died over it,” he says, voice calm but heavy.

“Oh, I’m um.. sorry to hear that.” You felt bad for even asking. Terry only hummed in response as a somewhat comfortable silence fell over the kitchen. You decided to drop the 21 questions all together and focus on finishing up the meal you were in the midst of preparing as he just quietly watched every move you made. The air inside the house was cooler than the sticky, suffocating heat outside, but it wasn’t enough to stop the slow trickle of sweat at the nape of your neck. Or maybe… just maybe… it wasn’t the weather making me feel like you were burning up. You could feel Terry watching you intently. It wasn’t obvious at first—he was too smooth for that. But after a while, you noticed the weight of his gaze, the way his stormy eyes followed every move you made as you prepped the food. His attention was heavy, unreadable, but not in a way that made you uncomfortable. No, it was the opposite. It made you hot. You shifted my weight from one foot to the other, clearing your throat as you reached for the bottle of wine, pouring yourself another sip just to have something to do. Everything about this man was turning you on and you loved it and despised it. It wasn’t just the fact that he was tall—though he was definitely tall, standing at least 6’3 with a solid frame that made it clear he was no stranger to manual labor. It wasn’t just the broadness of his shoulders or the way his arms stretched the fabric of his white tank, hinting at thick, corded muscle beneath. And it wasn’t just his face, though damn—that strong jawline, full lips, and a nose that looked like it belonged on a king? Yeah, he was definitely blessed in the looks department. But it was his presence that caught you off guard. Terry Richmond wasn’t the type of man you could read at a glance. His face was unreadable, expression calm yet watchful, like he was always two steps ahead of everyone else in the room. His stormy hazel-gray eyes, rimmed with thick lashes, carried something unreadable—something sharp, calculating. And depending on how the light hit them, they almost looked ocean blue, like a hurricane was brewing behind them, waiting to be unleashed. But right now, that intensity was locked onto you. And that shit made your stomach flip.

You turned back to the stove, pretending like the weight of his gaze wasn’t burning a hole straight through your back. The kitchen was already hot as hell, but somehow, his presence made the air feel even thicker. The pot on the stove let out a soft simmer, the scent of garlic, onions, and seasoning filling the air, but you barely noticed it because Terry was still watching you. And you felt all of it. His gaze wasn’t casual. It wasn’t some absentminded glance or a passing curiosity. No, he was studying you, eyes moving slow over every dip and curve like he had all the time in the world. You weren’t new to male attention, but the way he did it? This wasn’t some hungry, obvious ogling. This was different. Intentional. Like he was learning you. Like he was figuring out what made you tick, what made you fidget, what made you heat up. And Lord, were you heating up. You adjusted your stance, shifting your weight from one leg to the other, but that only made things worse because you didn’t know he was the type of man who appreciated a body like yours. The type that saw thick thighs, wide hips, and soft curves and lingered—the kind that recognized a woman built to carry healthy babies and be just as healthy herself. And sure enough, when you glanced over your shoulder, you caught him licking his lips, eyes still locked on you like you were a full-course meal, and he was starving.

“Damn, you gon’ cook everything in the kitchen?” His voice rumbled from behind you, smooth and deep, with that natural Southern drawl that could make a woman’s knees buckle if she wasn’t careful.

You smirked, turning back to the pot. “You got a problem with a woman feeding you?”

He let out a low chuckle, the sound vibrating through the air. “Nah, just surprised. Didn’t peg you for the domestic type.”

You scoffed, stirring the food. “Just ‘cause I can cook don’t mean I’m tryna play house with you, sir.”

That chuckle turned into a full-blown laugh, deep and rich, sending a shiver down your spine. You were too aware of him now, of the space between you and the way it was closing, little by little. The heat of his body was at your back before you even realized he had moved, and suddenly, his voice was right at your ear.

“You need any help?” His deep voice reverberated.

You sucked in a sharp breath, your fingers tightening around the spoon as his presence seemed to take up all the air in the kitchen. His body was close—too close, his heat pressing against your back, his sheer size making you feel small, even though you weren’t a small woman. The scent of his cologne—dark, musky, and clean—wrapped around you, making your head swim for a brief second. For just a moment, the energy in the room shifted. A slow, charged moment where neither of you moved, where the only sounds were the bubbling of the food on the stove and the quiet, measured breaths between you. It was subtle but impossible to ignore—the low hum of something heavy, something thick and unspoken. Then, just as quickly as it came, it passed. You cleared your throat, forcing yourself to focus, though you swore you felt him smirk behind you.

“I got it,” you murmured, trying to keep your voice even. Terry didn’t move at first, letting the moment sit before he finally stepped back, his absence somehow just as noticeable as his presence.

“Aight then,” he murmured, his voice amused.

But even as he walked away, you could feel his gaze still on you. And something told you that this slow-burn tension between you? It was just getting started. After about twenty minutes, the food is finally done, the kitchen filled with the warm, savory aroma of glazed salmon and buttered asparagus. You take your time plating everything carefully, making sure it looks just as good as it smells. Since Terry is your guest, you serve his plate first, sliding it across the counter toward him before pouring yourself another small glass of wine.

“You tryna impress me or somethin’?” he teases, eyeing the plate like he don’t quite trust it yet.

You roll your eyes, lifting your glass. “Boy, please. If I wanted to impress you, I would’ve pulled out the big guns.”

His brows lift slightly. “This ain’t the big guns?”

“Not even close.”You smirk. Terry hums like he’s considering that, then finally picks up his fork and takes a bite. He chews slowly, his face unreadable, and you find yourself leaning in slightly, waiting for his reaction.

After a few beats, he nods. “Alright, I’ll give it to you. This is good.”

You wink cutely, sipping your wine. “Told you I wouldn’t let you die in my care.”

He chuckles, deep and smooth, before digging into his plate with more enthusiasm. You pretend not to notice the way his biceps flex when he moves, how his jaw tenses up when he chews. You felt your clit pulse at the way his lips became glazed over from the moistness of the salmon.

“Told you I know what I’m doing,” you added with a nervous giggle, watching him enjoy the meal as you tried to push the naughty thoughts back and out of your mental crevices.

Terry smirks, setting his fork down just long enough to meet your gaze. “I don’t know yet. You cookin’ good, but that don’t mean you can really throw down. Anybody can follow a recipe.”

“Excuse me?” Your mouth dropped open slightly.

He shrugs, eyes dancing with amusement. “I mean, this is cute and all, but I don’t see no mac and cheese, no smothered chicken, no collard greens. Where the food that’ll have a man ready to sign over his life?”

You narrow your eyes, setting down your glass. “Oh nigga, you really talkin’ reckless now.”

He leans in slightly, grin widening. “I’m just sayin’—”

“You just saying what, exactly? That I gotta cook like somebody’s Big Mama before you give me my flowers?” You scoffed, fighting your smile.

Terry’s eyes flickered towards you with something unreadable, something dark and playful all at once. “I’m just saying… if you wanna prove you really got skills, you might have to cook for me again.”

You shake your head, laughing under your breath. “Oh, I see what this is. You tryna finesse another plate outta me.”

He smirks, grabbing his fork again. “Maybe.”

You fold your arms, eyeing him. “What do I get outta this arrangement?”

Terry lifts a brow, chewing another bite of salmon before answering. “What you want?” His voice dropping down to an even lower, sleek register. The sudden change shot an electric current straight to your pussy, making it moist and slippery. Although your lips below quivered and ached to be touched, you kept a pokerface.

“Hmm. Let’s see… If I’m cooking, then you’re cleaning.” You tapped a finger against your chin, pretending to think.

“Nah. Try again.” He scoffed.

“Uh-uh. I think that’s fair. You eat, you clean.” You playfully pouted, making him crack a small smirk at you.

“I fixed your grandma’s whole damn house. Ain’t that enough?” He countered, tone heavily amused.

You smirk, enjoying this way too much. “Oh, so now you keeping score?”

Terry leans in a little, his stormy ocean eyes glinting with something dangerous, something that makes the air between you tighten. “Nah, sweetheart. Just making sure I know what the stakes are.”

Your stomach flipped, causing heat to crawl slowly up your spine. This man was absolute trouble, and not the good kind. This man was the type to have you outside of his job, throwing bricks through his car window because he ain’t answer quick enough for your liking. This wasn’t no young nigga you were used to , this was big dawg.

You picked up your wine glass again, taking a slow sip. “Well, you let me know when you’re ready for that real meal. But just so you know… once I really start cooking for you?” You lean in slightly, voice dropping to something softer, silkier.. Almost wet and seducing. “Ain’t no going back.”

Terry’s smirk deepens, his gaze dropping—just for a second—to your lips before dragging back up to your eyes.

“That right?” he murmurs.

You swallow hard, feeling your pulse kicking up. You knew you had to get out of this here kitchen before you did something stupid.

Pushing off the counter, you grab your own plate. “Eat your food, Terry.”

He chuckles, shaking his head as he digs back in. “Yeah, alright. But don’t think I’m forgetting this conversation.”

You roll your eyes, turning away—but not before catching the way he watches you, heat flickering behind that cool, unreadable expression.

Yeah, this is nigga here was definitely trouble. As you take your plate and head toward the table, you can still feel Terry’s eyes on you, the weight of his gaze heavy against your skin. You tell yourself you’re imagining it, that the warmth curling low in your belly is just the wine and not the way his voice dipped when he said that right. But then, just as you sit down, he speaks again—low, teasing, but laced with something else. Something thicker.

“Hope you know what you just started.”

You pause, your fork hovering over your plate, your pulse skipping before quickening. When you finally look up, Terry’s already focused on his food like he ain’t just sent a shiver down your spine. And just like that, the game had officially begun. You might’ve thought you were just cooking a meal, just having a little harmless banter over dinner—but Terry? He had other plans. The way he said it, the way his voice dipped into something slow and rich like molasses, told you plain as day that this was just the start. And whether you were ready for it or not…

Things were about to get real interesting.

[queenshelby]

The Peaky Role (Part 20)

Pairing: Cillian Murphy x Reader

Warning: Age Gap, Best Friend's Dad, Smut

Just as you had finally found a casual dress to wear and were about to put on some make-up, there was a knock at the door that jolted you from your thoughts.

"Y/N?" Cillian's voice broke through from the other side of the door, laced with an urgency that sent your heart racing. You swallowed hard, glancing at the mirror one last time before you opened the door.

"Yes?" you asked as you saw Cillian standing there, tension radiating from him, his brow furrowed.

"I need to talk to you," he declared, his voice low but firm.

You opened the door wider, letting him inside, the warmth of your apartment contrasting with the storm brewing in his eyes.

"What's up?" you asked as soon as he stepped inside, closing the door behind him with a resolute click.

"I heard about your dinner with Barry tonight," he cut straight to the point, his jaw tightening. "And I think that you shouldn't be going out with him."

A sharp breath caught in your throat.

"And why not?" you asked as you crossed your arms, defiance sparking within as you took a step back, the heat of the moment igniting an argument.

Cillian ran a hand through his hair, frustration visible in the tight lines of his face. "He's not right for you and I don't want you to screw up your career by hooking up with him or another actor on set." 

"Well, for starters, I wasn't going to hook up with him but, even if I was going to, what business is it of yours?" you asked him with your arms still crossed tightly, daring him to challenge you.

"I am a producer of the movie and it is my business when...," Cillian began but you cut him off.

"Don't even start this conversation as though you actually care about the rules, Cillian," you retorted, fire flashing in your eyes. "You broke them yourself by sleeping with me, didn't you?" you said, anger simmering in your chest, eyes locked on his. It was a low blow, you knew it, but you couldn't help it. The words tumbled out, fueled by a mix of frustration and the raw, exposed emotions that had been building up inside you.

"That's different and you know it," Cillian countered, his voice tight, his eyes flashing with a mixture of anger and something else—pain, perhaps. 

You scoffed, the sound bitter and harsh. "How is it different Cillian?" you challenged, your voice rising despite your best efforts to keep it steady. "You slept with me while we were already working together, so how is that any less of a mess than me going out with Barry? You're a hypocrite, Cillian. You can't tell me what to do when you're doing the same thing."

Cillian's expression darkened, his jaw clenching as he struggled to maintain his composure. "Alright, he said, his voice low and controlled. "You're right. I did break the rules, and I shouldn't be lecturing you about them. But this is different, Y/N. Barry is... he's not good for you. He's got a reputation," Cillian tried to argue but you knew what the real issue was. He was jealous.  You could see it in the way his eyes flashed, in the tight set of his jaw. He was jealous, and it sent a thrill through you, a dangerous, exhilarating sensation that made your heart race.

You took a step closer, your voice softening as you challenged him. "You know what I think the problem is here?"�� you asked, your voice barely above a whisper as you stepped closer to him, your eyes locked onto his. "I think you're jealous."

Cillian's eyes widened slightly, a flicker of surprise crossing his face before he quickly masked it with a scowl. "Don't be ridiculous," he snapped, but the heat in his voice betrayed him.

You smirked, taking another step closer, your voice a low purr. "Am I? Because it sure seems like it to me. You're not worried about my career, Cillian. You're worried about me being with someone else."

Cillian's jaw tightened, and he looked away for a moment, as if gathering his thoughts.

When he looked back at you, his eyes were stormy, a mix of frustration and something else—something darker, more primal. "Fine, maybe I am," he admitted, his voice low and gruff. "But that doesn't change the fact that Barry is bad news. He's a great actor and a nice guy, but he is also player, Y/N. He'll use you and toss you aside. I don't want to see you get hurt."

You raised an eyebrow, a smirk playing on your lips. "And what about you then? Didn't you  use me and toss me aside?" you asked, your voice soft but laced with a challenge. You could see the conflict in his eyes, the battle between his desire for you and his guilt over the situation.

"You know I had no choice and you know very well that we can't actually be together, right?"  Cillian's voice was low, his eyes searching yours for understanding. "I have a family, Y/N. I have responsibilities. This... what we have, it's complicated and messy, and I cannot promise you anything," Cillian said, his voice heavy with regret and longing. "But I also can't stand the thought of you with someone else, either. It's selfish, I know. But I can't help it."

You took a deep breath, your heart aching at his words. You knew he was right—this was complicated, messy, and ultimately doomed. But you also knew that you couldn't stop thinking about him, couldn't stop wanting him. And seeing him like this, vulnerable and honest, only made it worse.

"I never asked you to make me any promises Cillian,"  you whispered, your voice soft and gentle, your fingers trailing down his arm. "I never expected anything from you. I knew what I was getting into. I knew the risks. I knew the consequences. I just... I don't like you pushing me away and that's exactly what you have been doing this past week,"  you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper as you stepped even closer, your breath mingling with his. "I know this is complicated, and I know it's messy. But I also know what I feel when I'm with you, Cillian. And I can't just turn that off because it's convenient or because it's what's expected of us."

Cillian's eyes softened, the storm in them slowly dissipating, replaced by a warmth that made your heart flutter. He reached up, his hand cupping your cheek, his thumb gently brushing against your skin. "Y/N, I—" he started. "I can't turn that off either," he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. "But we are playing with fire here and both know that. And eventually, someone is going to get burned."

You nodded, your heart pounding in your chest. You knew he was right, but you also knew that you couldn't walk away. Not yet. Not until you had to.

Cillian's hand dropped from your cheek, his fingers tangling with yours as he took a step closer, his breath warm on your skin. "I can't promise you anything, Y/N. I can't promise you a future, or a happily ever after. It's just not on the cards,"  Cillian said, his voice barely above a whisper, his eyes locked onto yours. 

"Then don't. Just don't promise me anything," you whispered, your voice barely audible, your heart pounding in your chest. You could feel the heat of his body, the electricity that sparked between you, and you knew that you were playing with fire. But you also knew that you couldn't resist him, not anymore. "I can't promise you a future either, Cillian, but I still want to be with you, and I think there is nothing wrong with living in the moment if we are smart about it," you added, your voice steady despite the storm of emotions raging inside you. 

"Y/N," Cillian objected  , his voice barely a whisper, his eyes searching yours, the intensity in his gaze making your heart race. "You're too young to be involved in this mess. You deserve better than this." 

You scoffed softly, a sad smile playing on your lips. "Better than what, Cillian? Better than being with someone who makes me feel alive?" you asked, your voice soft but firm. "I mean, I know it's fucked up because you are my best friend's father, but I like being with you and, even if nothing ever comes of this, I want to experience it while I can. I want to feel this," you added, your voice barely above a whisper as you took a step closer, your eyes locked onto his. "I want to feel everything with you, Cillian. I don't want to miss out on this because we're too scared of what might happen," you said, your voice steady despite the storm of emotions raging inside you.

Cillian's eyes searched yours, a mix of emotions flickering in their depths.

You could see the struggle within him, the battle between his desires and his responsibilities. He took a deep breath, his voice barely above a whisper as he spoke,  "Fuck Y/N. You know I can't stay away from you." 

You took a step closer, your heart pounding in your chest, the air between you thick with tension. "Yeah, I have noticed," you said, your voice barely a whisper, your eyes locked onto his and, as you did, Cillian's eyes darkened, the storm within him brewing and, before you knew it, he had grabbed you by the hips and pulled you against him, his lips crashing down onto yours in a fierce, hungry kiss.

You gasped , your body melting against his as his tongue invaded your mouth, exploring and claiming, his hands gripping your hips tightly, his fingers digging into your flesh.

"I want you so much Y/N, you have no fucking idea ," he growled into your mouth, his voice low and primal, his body pressing against yours.

You moaned into his kiss, your body responding to his touch, your nipples hardening against his chest. "I think I have some idea," you breathed, your voice husky with desire as you wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him closer, deepening the kiss. His hands slid from your hips to your ass, squeezing and kneading, pulling you tighter against him, his cock hard and insistent against your stomach already now, which surely did not take long.

"If we are going to do this, no one can know," he whispered against your mouth, his voice rough with lust and desperation. "We have to be careful, Y/N. We can't let anyone find out about us for a very long time." 

You nodded, your breath coming in short gasps as you ran your hands down his chest, feeling the hard planes of his muscles beneath his shirt. "I know," you whispered back, your voice barely audible. "I know we have to be careful."

Cillian's hands gripped your ass tighter, his fingers digging into your flesh as he lifted you off the ground, your legs instinctively wrapping around his waist. He carried you to the bed, his mouth never leaving yours, his kiss hungry and desperate.

You could feel the heat of his body, the hardness of his cock pressing against you, and you knew that you were in for a wild ride. As he laid you down on the bed, his body covering yours, you could feel the weight of him, the strength in his muscles, and you knew that you were exactly where you wanted to be.

Cillian's hands roamed your body, his touch firm and possessive as he explored every curve, every inch of your skin. You moaned into his kiss, your body arching against his, seeking more of his touch.

"You need to tell Barry that you aren't coming to dinner,"  Cillian growled, his voice low and demanding as he trailed hot, wet kisses down your neck, his stubble rough against your skin.

"Oh shit, I had forgotten about him already," you gasped, your head falling back to give him better access, your body already aching with need.

"Just tell him you're busy," he insisted, his teeth grazing your collarbone, sending a shiver of pleasure down your spine.

"Fine," you breathed, your fingers tangling in his hair, pulling him closer. "I'll text him. Just don't stop," you gasped, your body writhing beneath him, your hips grinding against his cock, the thick, hard length of him pressing against your clit through the layers of our clothes.

While you reached for your phone  to message Barry, Cillian's fingers found the hem of your dress, pulling it up and over your head, his eyes darkening as he took in the sight of your breasts, barely contained in your lace bra.

"You're so fucking beautiful," he growled, his voice low and primal as he leaned down, his mouth capturing one of your nipples through the lace, his teeth grazing the sensitive flesh, sending a jolt of pleasure straight to your core while you tried to text Barry. 

After you sent the message, the phone fell out of your hands and landed on the bed and you did not care. He was too busy kissing and sucking your breasts, his hands roaming over your body. 

"Oh god, Cillian," you gasped, your body arching off the bed, pressing against him while he tried to take off his t-shirt.  "I need you to fuck me , please," you begged, your voice breathless and desperate as you watched him take off his t-shirt. 

Cillian's eyes darkened with lust, his breath coming in ragged gasps as he quickly unbuttoned his jeans, pushing them down along with his boxers, his cock springing free, hard and thick, the head glistening with pre-cum. You reached out, your fingers wrapping around his shaft, stroking him gently, feeling the velvety softness of his skin, the hardness beneath.

"Take off your panties," he ordered, his voice a low growl as he ripped the lace bra off you, tossing it aside.

You quickly complied, shimmying out of your underwear, your body aching with need. Cillian's eyes darkened as he took in the sight of you, bare and exposed, your legs spread wide for him. He groaned, his cock twitching in your hand, a drop of pre-cum beading at the tip.

"Fuck, you're so wet already," he growled, his fingers trailing down your stomach, his thumb circling your clit, sending a jolt of pleasure through your body.

You moaned, your hips bucking against his touch, your body aching for more.

"Cillian, please," you begged, your voice breathless and desperate. "I need you inside me. I need to feel you."

Cillian's eyes darkened with lust, his breath coming in ragged gasps as he positioned himself at your entrance, the head of his cock pressing against your wet folds. "Is this what you want?" he asked, his voice low and gruff, his eyes locked onto yours, a challenge in his gaze.

"God, yes," you moaned, your body trembling with anticipation. "I want you to fuck me, Cillian. I want you to fuck me hard," you demanded, your voice laced with desperation and need. "I want to feel every inch of you inside me."

Cillian's eyes flashed with hunger, his jaw clenching as he slowly pushed into you, the head of his cock stretching you wide, filling you completely. You gasped, your back arching off the bed, your body accommodating his size, the sensation of being filled by him again overwhelming and intense.

"Fuck, you feel good," he groaned, his voice strained as he began to move, his hips thrusting against yours, his cock sliding in and out of you with ease, despite your tightness.

"So do you ," you gasped, your nails digging into his back, your legs wrapping around his waist, pulling him deeper. "Harder, Cillian. Fuck me harder."

Cillian's eyes darkened, a low growl escaping his throat as he complied, his hips snapping against yours, his cock pounding into you with a force that stole your breath. The bed creaked and groaned beneath you, the headboard banging against the wall with each brutal thrust. The sound of flesh slapping against flesh filled the room, a raw, primal symphony that sent shivers of pleasure down your spine.

Cillian's body was slick with sweat, his muscles tensed and flexing with each powerful thrust. You could feel every inch of him, the thick, hard length of his cock stretching you wide, filling you completely, hitting that sweet spot deep inside that made your toes curl and your vision blur.

"Fuck, Y/N," Cillian grunted, his voice low and strained, his eyes locked onto yours, the intensity in his gaze sending a thrill through you. 

You moaned, your body writhing beneath him, your hips meeting his thrusts with equal force.

"Yes, yes, yes," you chanted, your voice breathless and desperate. "Just like that, Cillian. Don't stop. Please don't stop."

Cillian's eyes were wild, his breath coming in ragged gasps as he pounded into you, his muscles tensed and flexing. "I won't stop," he grunted, his voice low and primal. "I can't stop. You feel too fucking good."

You reached up, your hands tangling in his hair, pulling him down to you, your lips crashing against his in a fierce, hungry kiss.

His mouth was hot and demanding, his tongue invading your mouth, exploring, claiming. You could taste the salt of his sweat, the faint hint of mint on his breath, and it only served to heighten your arousal. His hands gripped your hips tightly, his fingers digging into your flesh, holding you in place as he pounded into you, his cock sliding in and out of your wet, eager pussy with ease.

The room was filled with the sound of flesh slapping against flesh, the wet, obscene sounds of sex, the low, primal grunts and moans that escaped from both of your throats.

It didn't last long. It was as if  the room had been set on fire and the two of you were the flames. You could feel it in the way his body moved against yours, the way his muscles tensed and flexed with each powerful thrust. You could see it in the way his eyes darkened, the way his breath came in ragged gasps, the way his jaw clenched with each grunt of pleasure. You could hear it in the way his voice grew hoarse, the way his words became more and more desperate, more and more filthy.

Him fucking you like this, raw and primal, made you cum  hard and fast. You could feel your orgasm building, a coil of tension deep in your belly, ready to snap at any moment.

"That's it, Y/N," Cillian grunted, his voice low and strained, his eyes locked onto yours, the intensity in his gaze sending a thrill through you. "Cum for me," he demanded, his voice a low growl as he pounded into you, his cock sliding in and out of your wet, eager pussy with ease.

You moaned, your body writhing beneath him, your hips meeting his thrusts with equal force. "I'm close," you gasped, your voice breathless and desperate. "So close, Cillian. Just a little more." You panted, your body trembling with the force of your impending orgasm until, after ten minutes or so, you came.

It was explosive, your body convulsing around him, your inner walls clenching tightly around his cock, milking him for all he was worth. You screamed his name, your voice raw and desperate, your body arching off the bed, pressing against him as wave after wave of pleasure crashed over you. "Cillian! Fuck, Cillian, I'm cumming!" you cried out, your voice hoarse with exertion, your body shaking with the force of your release.

Cillian's eyes darkened, his breath coming in ragged gasps as he watched you cum, his cock still pounding into you, his hips moving faster, his body tensing as he chased his own release.

"Fuck, Y/N," he grunted, his voice low and strained. "You're so fucking beautiful when you cum. I can't get enough of you," he groaned just before, he too, climaxed.  His body tensed, his muscles flexing as he drove into you one last time, his cock pulsing deep inside you, filling you with his hot, sticky seed. You could feel every jet of it, the warmth spreading inside you, marking you as his.

"Fuck, Y/N," he grunted, his voice low and strained, his body shaking with the force of his release. "You feel so fucking good."

You moaned, your body milking him, your inner walls clenching tightly around his cock, drawing out every last drop of his cum.

Cillian collapsed on top of you, his body slick with sweat, his breath coming in ragged gasps. You could feel his heart pounding against your chest, the steady rhythm a soothing lullaby after the storm of your passion. His cock was still hard inside you, pulsing with the remnants of his release, and you couldn't help but clench around him again, drawing a low groan from his throat.

"You're going to fucking kill me, Y/N," he murmured, his voice low and husky, his lips brushing against your ear and you knew that this was just the first of many times that night.

As you were up to your third time however, there was another knock on the door to your tiny studio apartment.

It was a light tap, but it was enough to make you both freeze, your bodies still entwined, hearts pounding in sync. Cillian's eyes widened, and he quickly pulled out of you, his cock still glistening with your combined releases. You bit your lip, trying to suppress a giggle at the absurdity of the situation. Cillian, on the other hand, looked like he was about to have a heart attack.

"Y/N, it's Barry," came the voice from the other side of the door. It was soft and gentle, but it cut through the air like a knife.

Cillian's eyes widened as he looked at you, his voice barely above a whisper.

"Did you text him?" he asked, his voice low and desperate, his eyes searching yours. "I thought you had texted him."

"I did," you whispered back, your voice barely audible, your heart pounding in your chest. "I swear, I did. He shouldn't be here."

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[seat-safety-switch]

Folks, it's time for me to tell you about this grudge I have. At the mall – yes, it still exists – the pretzel guy has a loyalty card. Like all Canadians, I cannot resist the urge to use a loyalty card whenever possible. Once, I left a perfectly good coffee shop in order to drive across town and use a loyalty card to a big chain just so I could get that feeling of being 17 points closer to the 35,000 that I needed to get 50% off my next coffee. That loyalty has a limit, though, and the pretzel guy is fucking trying to find it.

Here's the problem, succinctly. Whenever I visit there, I only get one stamp per visit. Even if I buy more than one pretzel – let's assume it's for a business associate and I'm not eating 600% of my daily carbs in one gluttonous, horrifying sitting – one stamp. And I need, like, 20 of those for a free pretzel. I could stampede an entire Italian wedding through this guy's fucking booth and a solitary measly stamp is all I'd get. That's gratitude for you.

Every time I open my wallet, I see the bright red face of this dis-loyalty card mocking me. That enormous span of unfilled bubbles before the free pretzel. Bubbles that I know I have earned. Once, I bought an extra pretzel for the person behind me in line, just to "pay it forward." Did this work of generosity impress the guy working the stand? Not enough to give me three – I mean two – stamps.

The worst part is, there's not much I can do about it. Sure, I could go to the other pretzel stand in the mall. They have lower prices, and the quality of the food is much better. I just don't go there because they don't have a loyalty card.

Here's what we can try, though. This weekend, you're coming with me to the mall. I'll give you some money. You stand behind me in line, and I'll pass you the card after I'm done paying. Two pretzels, two stamps. It's only fair. Wait, you have a card too? We're gonna need a third person to pull off this heist.

[lynzishell]

Prev // Next

Transcript below the cut:

Iris: Is this your move then? You invite women back to your place to check out your record collection? Ezra: [shrugs] I work with what I have. Iris: Not even properly displayed, just thrown on the floor. Ezra: They’re not thrown— [exhales] Are you going to spend the whole night criticizing me? Iris: I might. It’s kinda my thing.

Ezra: Ahh. Okay. I think I get it. Iris: Get what? Ezra: You. Iris: Oh really?

Ezra: Mhm. You criticize people to keep them on the defensive because it keeps the spotlight off you. It’s a clever way to avoid being vulnerable, but I can’t imagine it serves you well. Iris: Ooh someone took a semester of psych in college. Very impressive.

Ezra: Two semesters, actually. Iris: Even better. Ezra: How about you put on a record, and I’ll pour us some wine, and then we can relax on the couch while you tell me something about yourself. Something real. Iris: Well, I won’t turn down the wine.

Iris: Okay. So, what do you want me to tell you? What qualifies as “something real”? Ezra: Hmm… Are you close with your family? Iris: I am, yeah. Ezra: What are they like?

Iris: My parents are very kind and generous people. My mom genuinely loves everyone she meets, it’s the weirdest thing, but it’s true. My brother is like that too, loves people. Ezra: How many siblings do you have? Iris: Just the one. And, honestly, I think he’s my best friend. He’s the one person I can talk to about anything.

Ezra: That must be nice. Iris: It is. What about you? Are you close with your family? Ezra: Not as close as I used to be. My parents are quite conservative and… traditional. We don’t see eye-to-eye on much these days.

Iris: What about siblings? Ezra: I have three older sisters. They’re all married with children, so I have eight nieces and nephews. I haven’t seen them since moving here. They’re all busy and far away, you know how it is. But I try to send them gifts for their birthdays and Winterfest.

Iris: Eight? Wow. Do you like being an uncle? Ezra: Yeah, it’s great. Iris: My brother and his husband are having twins, so my first niece and nephew are on the way. Ezra: That’s exciting, you’re gonna love it.

Iris: Is it hard being away from your family? Ezra: Sometimes. I’m happy here, but I do miss them, and I miss being surrounded by family all the time. Iris: Well, if you ever meet my mother, I’m sure she’ll adopt you straight away. It’s what she does. Ezra: Sounds good to me. When can I meet her?

Iris: [wrinkles her nose] Bit soon for that. Ezra: Yeah, probably. But it does feel like we might have something special here, you and me. Don’t you think? Iris: Yeah, it does.

Iris: But, um [sighs]… Look, my last relationship was… bad… so I’m gonna need to take this slow. Ezra: No problem. We can take things as slowly as you need to. Iris: Thank you.

Iris: I should get home. Ezra: No, it’s late. You can stay here tonight. I’m happy to sleep on the couch. Iris: I can’t. I have an early appointment. Ezra: Alright. Do you want a ride home? Iris: No, I’ll be fine, I promise, it’s not far.    Ezra: Are you sure? Iris: I’m sure. Maybe I can stay over tomorrow night, if you’re free. Ezra: I’d like that.

[httpsminsgirl]

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪ 𝙥𝙪𝙗𝙡𝙞𝙘 𝙨𝙚𝙭 𝙬𝙞𝙩𝙝 𝙗𝙣𝙙 ⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪

pairings: campusbf!jaehyun, personal trainer!sungho, dance partner!riwoo, idol!Taesan, idol!leehan x fem!reader contains: established relationship(except Riwoo), dom!bonedo, public sex, oral (f receiving), masturbating, fingering, chocking, hairpulling, petnames, toxic! reader, unprotected sex, voyeurism, a/n: english is not my first language and i'm a bit dyslexic so if there are any grammar mistakes I apologize. :b can you guys give feedback? I'm trying to improve my writing TT^TT please send request or ideas on ask me... what do we think about stalker Taesan? >-<

๋ㅤ ࣭ ㅤ⭑ ☆ㅤ ๋࣭ㅤ ⭑๋ㅤ ࣭ ㅤ⭑ ☆ㅤ ๋࣭ㅤ ⭑๋ㅤ ࣭ ㅤ⭑ ☆ㅤ ๋࣭ㅤ ⭑๋ㅤ ࣭ ㅤ⭑ ☆ㅤ ๋࣭ㅤ ⭑

Jaehyun:

Contains: masturbation (f receiving), darling, teasing (wc: 430)

Jaehyun and you were sitting at the back of the class. You were taking notes and paying attention, but you could tell your boyfriend was a bit bored as he doodled on his notebook. ''are you that bored?'' you asked whispering looking at him and he nodded as he pouted causing you to roll your eyes and shake your head in disapproval.

After some minutes you felt Jaehyun caress your thigh, not that you really cared, he was always extremely touchy. The only problem was that he was caressing your inner thighs and you were wearing a skirt. Jaehyun knows how sensitive your inner thighs are, but maybe he was just caressing mindlessly so you tried not to pay attention to him. Until you felt his hand slowly creep further up. ''Jaehyun'' you whispered now looking at him and he looked at you with a smirk, leaning close to you as he kissed your cheek to then whisper in your ear.

''just be quiet and pay attention to class, darling'' he said to then sit comfortably, his hands now getting dangerously close to your clothed pussy which was already warm and wet thanks to his caressings. You could see him smile from the corner of your eye which made you blush but you just tried your best to play it off. he parted your lips to then start caressing your clit from the top of the fabric making you hold your breath in for a second. ''Jaehyun'' you whispered unsure.

''shut up'' he whispered demanding now pulling your panties to the side, his fingers slid through your pussy getting wet by your juices. You were at the back of the class, and the tables covered your legs completely, there was no one next to you but there was people sitting in front, as also the teacher who was facing you making you unsure of your acting skills and forcing you to look at your notebook as you held your breath from time to time while Jaehyun pinched, caressed and played with your clit.

As you felt your orgasm closer you started closing your legs but Jaehyun put his leg on top of yours pulling it closer to him keeping them open. You hid your face against the table now almost crying from the pleasure and arousal ''j-jaehyun... i'm-'' before you could even finish you heard your boyfried shushing you softly, he knew you well enough to know when you were close. It didn't take more than 10 seconds for you to end up coming just from him teasing and playing with your clit. He kept on going softly letting you ride the waves of the orgasm to then just grab the wet tissues from your backpack cleans his hands and kiss the top of your head cause your face was still buried in your arms embarrassed.

๋ㅤ ࣭ ㅤ⭑ ☆ㅤ ๋࣭ㅤ ⭑๋ㅤ ࣭ ㅤ⭑ ☆ㅤ ๋࣭ㅤ ⭑๋ㅤ ࣭ ㅤ⭑ ☆ㅤ ๋࣭ㅤ ⭑๋ㅤ ࣭ ㅤ⭑ ☆ㅤ ๋࣭ㅤ ⭑

Sungho:

Contains: toxic gf!reader, possessive!reader, cursing, grinding, hair pulling, marking. (wc:648)

You truly didn't feel like going to the gym that day, feeling a bit lazier than usual as also tired, but seeing your boyfriend in a tight compress shirt and some sweatpants was more than enough to get your ass up and ready to go with him, after all you couldn't let other girls think they even had a chance with him. You warmed up next to him, helping each other. Today was leg day which you absolutely despised doing legs was horrible keeping in mind that your work building had stairs, but he couldn't care less about it. Work outs went as usual, with a shower of praises coming out of Sungho's mouth as he stayed close spotting you and motivating you.

You then left for some minutes to go get some water for the both of you, but that was enough for some bitch to get close to your boyfriend and try to hit on him. You could see him politely decline and look for you so you walked to him and gave the girl a mean look ''you know he's taken so how much of a whore do you need to be to hit on someone else's boyfriend?'' you said annoyed making the girl look at you surprised as your boyfriend just tried to hold back a laugh ''okay'' you heard him say before feeling him just carry you on his shoulders and walk away.

You agreed to meet up at the sauna and there you were, waiting for him, he came in not long after and he greeted you with a kiss ''baby, you need to learn how to keep your thoughts to yourself sometimes'' he said softly as he caressed your arm ''no. She deserved it, she saw you with me before she came to hit on you... that-'' you looked at him who was just smiling fondly at you finiding you amusing ''whatever, i'm making you a shirt that has my face and says 'I have a girlfriend' in it'' you crossed your arms and heard him chuckle as he now started kissing your shoulders and neck ''how about you just mark me up instead?''

You heard him whisper making your cheeks flush surprised by the sudden switch up, as you felt his hand on your legs caressing you until it got to your waist now squeezing it. He started kissing you and you corresponded now as he got you closer to him until he got you on top straddling him feeling directly your bare wet pussy against his now erect member making him gasp softly in your mouth. you strarted grinding on him not really caring about anything, after all saunas were barely used at this hour and there wasn't that much people at the gym at that hour of the day.

His hands were on your waist and ass helping you grind against him as you started kissing his neck, biting and nibbling on the skin leaving some marks just like he asked you to, while he moaned and whimpered in your ear softly. he then just grabbed his dick positioning himself at your entrance and went in harshly making you gasp and him let out a small growl ''fuck baby'' he moaned as you started moving on his dick now while he kissed you shoulders and chest leaving some marks on you too.

You both were conscious this was really dangerous so he just grabbed your hair pulling you close to him to start kissing you and try to die out some of your moans as his other hand wrapped around you keeping you in place as he pounded onto you keeping a fast harsh pace, it didn't take you long to feel the knot in your stomach built up thanks to the arousal and you knew he was close to. ''s-sungho...'' you said in between kisses to then pull away and hide on the crook of his neck as you both came and rode out your orgasm.

๋ㅤ ࣭ ㅤ⭑ ☆ㅤ ๋࣭ㅤ ⭑๋ㅤ ࣭ ㅤ⭑ ☆ㅤ ๋࣭ㅤ ⭑๋ㅤ ࣭ ㅤ⭑ ☆ㅤ ๋࣭ㅤ ⭑๋ㅤ ࣭ ㅤ⭑ ☆ㅤ ๋࣭ㅤ ⭑

Riwoo:

Contains: toxic! riwoo, dom! riwoo, dry grinding, cursing, 'pretty', unprotected sex. (wc: 694)

Riwoo was your dance partner, you've known him for quite some time and everything was really good among you two, except for the fact that lately you felt like there maybe was some type of tension among the two of you but you couldn't describe quite well what it was. Today some new people joined the class and there was this cute guy that was a bit lost, so like a good senior you were you helped him without much thought. He was kind and flirty, and you most definitely could feel Riwoo's killer gaze everytime you chuckled too hard at this guy's jokes but you tried not to overthink it. He asked you for your number but you said it was too personal, so you just followed each other on instagram, as everyone left you were now picking up the dance studio with Riwoo. ''was he that funny?'' you heard him ask.

''not really'' you said giggling but he didn't seem in the mood so you just straightened your face and cleared your throat ''are you okay?'' you asked him now and he got closer to you ''I don't know, would you be okay if you saw me joke around some girl making her laugh all the time'' you thought about it for some seconds, and yeah it definitely bothered you, but you weren't even dating anyways. ''I.. don't know'' you said unsure looking up at him who had his tongue against the inside of his cheek going down.

Before you could get something else out of your mouth you felt him kiss you, you blushed completely unsure on what to do on how to react, but as you felt his hands on your waist bringing you impossibly closer you just followed the kiss putting your hands on his shoulders. he walked back and you let out a soft gasp when you felt your back hit the wall, he then just lifted you up to then bring you to the dance studio's sofa, laying on top of you just kissing you but you got a bit impatient and put your hands under his shirt feeling his bare chest and abs earning a soft moan from him, he started now grinding himself against you, somehow perfectly rubbing your clit now making you both moan in each others mouth.

''fuck'' he said as her now felt your hands on the hem of his pants, you didn't know why, but you just needed him desperately in that moment so you pulled his pants down making him smile against your lips ''hm, you're a bit impatient, pretty'' he whispered as he pulled away from you pulling down his pants and yours ''you're lucky i've been waiting for this moment or else I would've made you wait longer'' he said before he started rubbing his tip against your wet cunt before lining himself up and going in. you heard a sigh from him as he started kissing your neck, straightening up and grabbing your waist as he started picking up a fast pace.

With his free hand he lifted your shirt up caressing your side and kneading your chest, you could see how much the view was affecting him and it was most definitely affecting you too. he leaned down lifting your bra to then start kissing and softly nibbling your nipples as you caressed and pulled him closer feeling the knot form in your stomach ''riwoo... I'm- i'm close'' you moaned now as you rolled your eyes to the back of your head and he started going deeper and harder, he started kissing you trying to stop you from moaning but it was almost impossible for you both, you just bit his shoulder now leaving some marks ''cum for me, pretty'' he said and that's when you let go completely now feeling your insides clench around his legs before he pulled out and masturbated himself now cumming all over your stomach and chest as you tried to get your breath back to normal.

๋ㅤ ࣭ ㅤ⭑ ☆ㅤ ๋࣭ㅤ ⭑๋ㅤ ࣭ ㅤ⭑ ☆ㅤ ๋࣭ㅤ ⭑๋ㅤ ࣭ ㅤ⭑ ☆ㅤ ๋࣭ㅤ ⭑๋ㅤ ࣭ ㅤ⭑ ☆ㅤ ๋࣭ㅤ ⭑

Taesan:

contains: idol! taesan, hard dom! Taesan, chocking, hair pulling, degradation, praising, dirty talking, unprotected sex, (wc: 718)

You weren't one to visit your boyfriend at schedules, respecting his space, but this time he personally asked you to come, so of course you did. You greeted the staff and then the guys as you arrived there, Taesan greeted you with a smile and excused himself from the guys and staff to then grab your hand and walk away ''where are we going? are you not busy?'' you asked now confused but he didn't seem to care much, greeting staff as he got farther and farther from his waiting room ''I am, but I need you right now, it's fine we won't take long'' he reassured you now before checking around and pulling you inside of a room, it looked like an storage room that wasn't really used ''Taesan'' you said slowly catching on what he wanted to do.

But he didn't listen to you just locking the door before he walked to you grabbing your cheeks and starting to kiss you. You didn't even fight it just corresponding him and wrapping your arms around his shoulders, he started kissing your neck now putting his hand on your hair and pulling it forcing you to look up to get more space around your neck. You put your hands inside of his shirt caressing his stomach and chest trying to take out his shirt but he didn't let you ''I can't darling'' he whispered in your ear before raising your top up and burrying his face in between your chest now kissing them, his hand going down to your skirt.

He caressed your pussy from the top of the fabric making you moan softly in his ear and he pulled your panties to the side now playing with your clit introducing one of his fingers inside you, he kissed you and introduced a second digit now doing scissor movements preparing you for his dick, as he felt you were wet and stretched enough he took his fingers out carrying you and sitting you in the table that was there. You caressed the tent forming up in his pants making him moan but he just swept your hand away ''behave and wait you slut'' he said as he undid his belt and pants, pulling them down along his boxers enough to get his dick out.

He pumped his lenght few times before pressing his tip on your clit and rubbing his dick against your pussy getting his tip wet with it. He positioned himself and now grabbed your hair again pulling it to force you to look at him when he very hardly went it making you gasp loudly ''keep it quiet for me now, yeah?'' he said and you nodded desperately ''good girl'' he said as he kept on pulling your hair now starting to move. You bit your lip trying to keep it quiet so he started kissing you, you had one hand against the table for support and the other one on his shoulder and hair.

The hand that was on your hair now trailed down to your neck, gripping on the sides of it pressing it softly as he got closer to your ear moaning while he kept his fast hard pace, stretching you out so deliciously no matter how many times he had been inside of you. ''you're taking it so well, princess'' he said as his grip on the sides of your neck got stronger making you roll your eyes back, his arm holding you ''fuck, Taesan'' you moaned now desperately ''shut the fuck up whore'' he said demanding ''do you want me to stop?'' he asked now as he went faster ''n-no, please'' you begged trying to keep it quiet almost crying out ''then shut the fuck up and take it'' he said and you nodded now getting closer to him burying your face in the crook of his neck.

You felt closer and closer now placing your hands under his shirt scratching his back ''Taesan'' you cried out ''just cum for me darling, show me how good I make you feel'' he said in between moans and you did just that, milking his cock for all it was worth and it didn't take him more than one second to start cumming too as he let out quiet moans and deep breaths.

๋ㅤ ࣭ ㅤ⭑ ☆ㅤ ๋࣭ㅤ ⭑๋ㅤ ࣭ ㅤ⭑ ☆ㅤ ๋࣭ㅤ ⭑๋ㅤ ࣭ ㅤ⭑ ☆ㅤ ๋࣭ㅤ ⭑๋ㅤ ࣭ ㅤ⭑ ☆ㅤ ๋࣭ㅤ ⭑

Leehan:

contains: oral sex (f receiving), fingering, praising, voyeur? (wc: 721)

Leehan and you went to a nice restaurant to celebrate your 9 month anniversary, it was a high end restaurant which you were unsure of going to as he was an idol, but he got a private room for the both of you, out of prying eyes. Dinner started just fine, until he noticed the waiter hit on you and shamlessly ogle your bust which was making Leehan madder per second. he then pulled your chair next to his bringing you closer to him. he slid your dress up and you looked at him surprised ''you're mine, right?'' he asked now making you giggle

''we're celebrating our 9th month, Donghyun... of course i'm yours'' you said caressing his hair but his hand started sliding up your dress ''hyunie'' you said a bit unsure and he just left a peck shushing you ''then just take what I give you, okay pretty?'' you nodded a bit unsure as he just pulled your legs apart and quickly your panties aside too now caressing your clit and teasing your entrance making you blush and let out soft moans, you were both facing the entrance door and the table and table cloth was enough to cover your legs and Donghyun's possessive antics.

you were almost done with the food course but at this point it didn't even matter, until the waiter came in once again making Leehan stop for one second and making you blush completely as you tried to take his hand out of your pussy but it didn't work, didn't seem like the waiter really noticed anyways. ''are you done with the food?'' he asked and you nodded ''uh, yeah'' you said now and Leehan grabbed the table cloth covering your legs as he took his hand off your thighs now. ''great, I'll bring dessert now, tiramisu cake, right?'' he asked and you nodded ''yes please'' you said and he picked the plates up to then leave.

You looked at Leehan now ready to cuss him out for being so risky but he was getting on his knees under the table ''what are you doing?'' you asked confused as you watched him disappear under the table before you felt him grab you waist pulling you closer to the end of the chair and spreading your legs open ''let me have some of my dessert in advance'' he said as he covered himself and your legs with the cloth ''hyun-'' you started but you heard the door open again, it was the waiter with your tiramisu cake, he set it on the table and then just walked some steps back, he looked at your boyfriend's empty chair noticing his absence as you felt Leehan's tongue run along your pussy making you drop your head sighing slightly

''is everything okay? where's your boyfriend?'' he asked and you cleared your throat while you felt Leehan suck and kiss your clitoris, clenching your hand as strong as you could ''he- uh...'' you started off now really clumsily ''he went to the bathroom'' you said and tried your best to offer a polite smile ''I see... are you okay? you know, I don't want to sound mean but dating an idol can be...'' he started talking now but you couldn't even focus on whatever he was saying just looking at the tiramisu cake holding your breath at times swallowing your moans feeling Leehan's tongue inside of you ''you can always let me know'' was the last thing you heard the guy say.

''I have a boyfriend, and i'm really happy in my relationship, please just leave'' you said politely almost out of breath but shot him a death glare as he wasn't leaving ''did you not-'' you started off before letting out a soft moan feeling leehan starting to finger you while eating you out which you played off as if you were about to cry and the waiter just excused himself leaving ''fuck, fuck, fuck'' you cried out softly now just grabbing Leehans hair pulling him closer almost riding his face without a care in the world ''i'm close'' you moaned right after still riding his face, he kept on sucking your clit and kissing it letting you ride out your orgasm. ''good girl, darling'' he said as he licked his lips going away ''you're a great actress'' he said smiling and you hit him softly ''shut up''

๋ㅤ ࣭ ㅤ⭑ ☆ㅤ ๋࣭ㅤ ⭑๋ㅤ ࣭ ㅤ⭑ ☆ㅤ ๋࣭ㅤ ⭑๋ㅤ ࣭ ㅤ⭑ ☆ㅤ ๋࣭ㅤ ⭑๋ㅤ ࣭ ㅤ⭑ ☆ㅤ ๋࣭ㅤ ⭑

taglist: @ciovio ☆

[can-i-make-image-descriptions]

[Image IDs: Text reading: I have known Elon Musk at a deep level for 14 years, well before he was a household name. We used to text frequently. He would come to by birthday party and invite me to his parties. He would tell me everything about his women problems. As sons of highly accomplished men who married venuses, were violent and lost their fortunes, and who were bullied in high school, we had a number of things in common most people cannot relate to. We would hang out together late in Los Angeles. He would visit my San Diego lab. He invested in my company.

Elon is not a Nazi, per se.

He is something much better, or much worse, depending on how you look at it.

Nazis believed that an entire race was above everyone else.

Elon believes he is above everyone else. He used to think he worked on the most important problems. When I met him, he did not presume to be a technical person—he would be the first to say that he lacked the expertise to understand certain data. That happened later. Now, he acts as if he has all the solutions.

All his talk about getting to Mars to "maintain the light of consciousness" or about "free speech absolution" is actually BS Elon knowingly feeds people to manipulate them. Everything Elon does is about acquiring and consolidating power. That is why he likes far right parties, because they are easier to control. That is also why he gave himself $56 Billion which could have gone to the people actually doing the work and innovations he is taking credit for at Tesla (the reason he does not do patents is because he would not be listed as an inventor as putting a fake inventor on a patent would kill it and moreover it would reveal the superstars behind the work). His lust for power is also why he did xAI and Neuralink, to attempt to compete with OpenAI and NeuroVigil, respectively, despite being affiliated with them. Unlike Tesla and Twitter, he was unable to conquer those companies and tried to create rivals. I fired him with cause in December 2021 when he tried to undermine NV.

Elon did two Nazi salutes.

He did them for five main reasons:

He was concerned that the "Nazi wing" of the MAGA movement, under the influence of Steve Bannon, would drive him away from Trump, somewhere in the Eisenhower Executive Office Building, rather than in the West Wing which is where he wants to be. He was already feeling raw over the fact that Trump did not follow his recommendation for Treasury Secretary and that the Senate also did not pick his first choice.

He was upset that he had had to go to Israel and Auschwitz to make up for agreeing with a Nazi sympathizer online and wanted to reclaim his "power" just like when he told advertisers to "go fuck yourself". This has nothing to do with Asperger's;

There are some Jews he actually hates: Sam Altman is among them;

He enjoys a good thrill and knew exactly what he was doing;

His narcissistic self was hoping the audience would reflect the abject gesture back to him, thereby showing complete control and dominion over it, and increasing his leverage over Trump. That did not happen

Bottom line: Elon is not a Nazi but he did give two Nazi Salutes, which is completely unacceptable.

N.B. For the few whining about my post "sans connaissance the cause" and either trembling about my having shattered their illusions about their cult leader or thinking I am defending Elon:

I. My point is that he is transactional rather than ideological;

II. That being said, I am not defending him or his actions, just explaining them and confirming that he did, in fact, do two Nazi Salutes if anyone had doubts or believed the doctored footage of Taylor Swift doing the same thing to normalize what Elon did;

III. At some point, it matters to a few people if one is a Nazi or if one acts like one. My father was a Holocaust Survivor. 32 out of 35 of his family members were murdered by the Nazis. My mother's grandparents were murdered in Auschwitz;

IV. After Elon tried to manipulate NV's stock in 2021, I fired him with cause, and he was unable to exercise his stock options. In the aftermath of the Nazi Salutes, I told both him and his wealth manager to fuck off. Any remaining friendship between us ended with the Nazi Salutes. He is blocked on my end and I am pretty sure I am blocked on his;

V. I did not share what he told me in confidence. I just happened to know him extremely well, the person, the aspirations and the Musk Mask;

VI. I know who I am, have no desire to be famous and give exceedingly few media interviews. I prefer to work in obscurity and let the work speak for itself. I am certainly not envious and would definitely not want Elon's life, including living in a bubble and having to make one outlandish claim after another and manipulate the public, elections and governments to shore up my stock and prevent the bubble from bursting. Unlike Elon, I am an actual scientist and inventor and I am not pretending to be someone I am not like a fellow who got his BA in Econ at 26 all of a sudden pretending to be an expert in mechanical engineering, chemistry, rocket science, neuroscience and AI and keeping the people actually doing the work hidden and paying people to play online games in his name to appear smart and feed his so-called "Supergenius" Personality Cult—the "Imperator" has no clothes, and he knows it. I am just very disappointed in what happened to someone I had a lot of deep admiration for and the first person to found out about my concerns about his behavior was always him;

VII. He is the one who betrayed a number of his friends, including Sergey, and, given his actions, many other people who believed him and believed in him. I have no sympathy for this behavior, and at some point, after having repeatedly confronted it in private, I believe the ethical thing to do is to speak out, forcefully and unapologetically, whatever the risks may be, so as to not be part of the timid flock remaining silent while evil is being done, including propping up far right governments around the world in part to deregulate his companies and become the first trillionaire and otherwise to "rule the planet"—he knows Mars won't be terraformed in his lifetime and he really wants his planet. No joke... Ethics matter. People matter. The truth matters.

I took down Descartes (through the Cambridge Declaration on Consciousness) and I am definitely not afraid of a so-called inventor whose greatest invention in his image.

I will not be silent. You should not be either. I am a sovereign individual, and so are you. I stoop up to bullies, and am stepping out of the dark to do it again.

Stop working for him and being exploited by him. Sell your Tesla and dump your Tesla stock. Nikola Tesla was a great, creative and courageous man who led with ethics and by example and he would not have wanted for his good name to have been used by him and would agree with my principled stance. Sign off of "X" which is boosting far right propaganda, and of your Starlink as well. He is a complete cunt who doesn't give a shit about you—only about power. Just ask Reid Hoffman. He only wants to control, dominate and use you—don't let him and cut him and his business out of your and your loved ones' lives entirely. Remember he is a total miserable self-loathing poser, and unless you are too, he will be much more afraid of you than you should ever be of him.

He will probably come after me, and I am completely fine with that. I am a self-made multibillionaire with an armada of lawyers—literally—and most importantly, I know who I am and who I stand for, the people and their freedoms, whatever happens. He can send his dumb Proud Boys and Oath Keepers after me and they will be butchered on sight. Either way, I would rather die with honor than live as a coward.

"Silence encourages the tormentor, never the tormented."—Elie Wiesel, Holocaust Survivor and Nobel Peace Prize laureate /End IDs]

[utilitycaster]

Imo (as someone who didn't watch the finale, so I'm happy to be wrong), one of the bigger problems with the ending that isn't being discussed is that religions don't work like that. I'm not talking about cosmology or divinity, which people have already spoken on plenty, but the people who actually believe the beliefs.

There are people who believe their god was in some way mortal (Buddhists, some Christians), but they still practice the belief. I'm Jewish, and if it was definitively proven that God isn't real, I would still be a practicing Jew. The gods of Exandria becoming mortal would definitely cause schisms and theological debates, but the gods as concepts would continue to hold power regardless of their mortality or continued existence. Vasselheim would change, but it wouldn't be rocked to its knees.

Obviously, the cast has their own biases and thoughts on religion. That's understandable, but in a campaign and world that is increasingly about How Religion Amd Gods Shape Things, why is religion treated only as a plot point and not a dynamic of understanding the world, yaknow?

This is a hard question to answer since I think to truly give a good answer I'd need a thesis statement and several weeks of writing, but in short, as myself a practicing Jew and philosophically somewhere between weak and apathetic agnosticism I agree that Exandria as a setting did a good job of exploring individual faith/devotion to divinity, and a very bad job of exploring the concept of religion on an anthropological level.

I do think the fact that most of the people with whom I can have a conversation about this are either fellow non-Christians existing in a Christian dominated society; left-leaning Catholics from a rigorous intellectual tradition in the Protestant-dominated US; or people who left a more conservative Christian sect for a more progressive one and in doing so interrogated the nature of religion and faith is telling. I think if you were raised strictly Christian and either swore off religion entirely (the ex-Evangelicals who never unlearned lack of empathy/self-centeredness and simply applied it in a different direction) or were raised Christian but not particularly religious and live in a culturally Christian society in which that is the norm and thus you never had to see yourself as a person with an identity and a practice outside said norm, you are far more likely fail to adequately notice this as a problem with Exandrian worldbuilding.

Something that struck me as I thought about this (on my solo walks to and from synagogue today, no less) is that I am someone who for various reasons, academic, religious, and otherwise, has spent a lot of time thinking about the role of ritual in daily life. And the thing is, "ritual" has in many cases been coopted into a thing you do very much for yourself, often with a capitalist slant - self-care as consumption as ritual. (If you look up companies named Ritual, it's zero proof spirits and vitamins/supplements and takeout). It is individualist and is intended to soothe one's self.

Ritual is far more than that. Ritual is a sign of community. It is a means of remembrance. It is a reminder to look outside of yourself. We light candles on Friday night not for ourselves - indeed, we are prohibited from using them as a light source - but to welcome someone of something else. We blow the shofar to wake ourselves and our community up to what we can can change and do better.

Jester and Caduceus are in my opinion the strongest practitioners of ritual across campaigns, but both are from very small groups of practitioners. We meet many clerics and adherents, but their stories or their experiences with religion as part of daily life are largely untold.

And this is just about ritual, which is in many cases neutral or even positive, but as discussed there is no real hegemony - Vasselheim holds respect and serves as a vault for divine secrets, but outside of that has little political sway. Caduceus and Fjord do not answer to Hierophant Ophera. We also see very little of those theological questions or debates - one must imagine they occur, but it, like the world of ritual or religious service, feels oddly empty. There are temples, and there are keepers of those temples, but the temples always feel like they pop into existence for the PCs and vanish when they're not present. I remember during Campaign 2 there was a great discussion of how D&D offers a concept of religion without the need for faith in the unseen - the gods exist definitively - and it just feels like that's never been reflected meaningfully in the world of Exandria, and that wasn't really a problem with Campaigns 1 or 2 and it very much was with the concepts C3 attempted to tackle.

[will80sbyers]

Obviously, part of his story is that Will needs to accept himself and be proud of being different, but the thing they focus on the most in his story is how deep, selfless, and beautiful his love for Mike is, and how sad he feels when he thinks he's losing Mike. The idea of losing Mike hurts him too much, and even the thought of just having to let go is painful. He says that if that had to happen, he wanted it to be like ripping off a bandaid, but the monologue was supposed to be that bandaid being ripped off, and it simply didn't work. He's still in love with him, and this will be addressed next season with the painting situation ✨

One of the things that makes me sure of Byler is that it's already clear to all of the viewers that absolutely no one in his family or friend group will hate Will for being gay. There's no doubt that Mike would accept him platonically because we have S1 where Mike beats up that kid for being homophobic to Will, and just knowing Mike's character he wouldn't be the type to be homophobic to his best friend, he would not give a fuck about that, ESPECIALLY if he was meant to be straight... so basically there is not really a decent story to tell there and Mike loving him too is the best story they can tell, the most surprising and happy and the most satisfying writing-wise

A story where Will confesses and is proud of himself but then gets immediately rejected by Mike is just such an ugly and underwhelming story to write, and it wouldn't make much sense to make so many explicit parallels to other love stories for byler and then focus this much on how beautiful Will's love for Mike is too if that didn't pay off at the end

This storyline would also help Mike's character arc, separating it from his fears around losing El to focus on a self discovery journey in general, we would see Mike gain more confidence in himself as a leader because of the type of love that Will has for him where he explicitly calls him the heart and inspiration of all of them!!!

Will's love for Mike gave him confidence VS. what we have seen happens to Mike when he's in a relationship with El... Eleven having superpowers and constantly choosing to leave him behind makes him feel like he's useless, he feels like he's not even Lois Lane in their dynamic now and her gaining independence growing up and not really needing him to be okay emotionally makes him feel insecure in himself... to the point he has resorted to pretending to be someone cooler than who he really is ( in s3 dismissing his love for D&D/games that are considered childish and in S4 arriving dressed as a "cool" surfer guy ) for the fear of her not wanting him anymore in her life in any way, clearly there's something not working out between them, love is not supposed to make you feel like that about yourself and it should be a natural and automatic thing that's coming directly from El resolving this problem, certainly not a 3rd person using his own feelings to fix their relationship.

This storyline would also tell a story of growth for both El and Mike at the same time, one where they let go of their first relationship that was based more on circumstance and fear of losing the other as a familiar person than actual intentional choices, and then they can show how you can still stay friends after.

I know this is the arc Melvins want for Will, but I believe it will be the other way around instead because... again, they focused too much on his love, making it too strong in the story to dismiss, and instead they showed how El was happy even without a relationship with Mike multiple times during the past seasons - they focused a lot on the relationships with her family and friends for her, it has always been what she needed the most and what she truly wanted 🌈

[floralcavern]

Vivziepop just cannot write, hm?

So… I think we’ve noticed a trend here. Vivziepop cannot write for shit. Let’s take a look at something.

So, most people I’ve met agree that the Hazbin pilot is way, WAY better than the actual show. Even hardcore Hazbin fans can mostly agree on this. So, you gotta wonder, what the hell happened? Was it because of Prime? Well, maybe, but probably because Vivziepop DID NOT write the pilot.. Ya. And, in typical Vivziepop fashion, she did not give credit or acknowledge someone else’s contributions to her stories. It’s almost like she has a history of this! So, Vivziepop was the writer in the actual show… ok, well, Prime definitely could’ve been part of the reason why it wasn’t good! Ya, studio interference has a history of ruining shows, especially in the animation industry. That’s the reason, right?

Well, that excuse could be used if Helluva Boss didn't exist.

Season 1 of Helluva Boss SLAPS. It is so good, so funny, so witty. Season 1 was written by both Brandon Roger’s and Viv. But, when did the quality in the show drop? Season 2, when the show completely abandoned the plot and focused on a generic, toxic, Wattpad type of romance rather than the original cast and the original show’s pitch. But, how did this happen?! Well… season 2 was almost entirely written by only Vivziepop. … OH!

And I just… ugh. It really, really frustrates me because she has so many good ideas, but terrible execution. And that’s fine! If she had other writers on the team that she’s actually willing to listen to, I do think that the show could be incredible. Good ideas and concepts are an amazing place to start! But geez, if you struggle with applying those concepts, GET OTHER WRITERS! And actually GIVE THEM CREDIT.

And, allow me to rant about how Helluva Boss’s new melodrama approach COULD have worked. Look at The Office. A workplace show with absurdist comedy. Wow, that’s a lot like Helluva Boss season 1! And, like Helluva Boss, The Office stayed like that at first. Ridiculous, episodic, and hilarious. But, as it went on, it became more of a dramedy. And it worked because it knew how to balance everything. Everything worked off of the characters well, because they actually got us to care about these characters, enjoy them, think they’re funny. Characters faced punishments, even in the most ridiculous and cringiest ways possible. But Helluva Boss doesn’t do this. It’s not a comedy anymore. It takes itself too seriously. And the problem with it taking itself too seriously is

It was originally pitched as an episodic comedy and

Vivziepop plays favorites

But with The Office, there are certain characters that you can tell are the writer’s favorites. Jim, Pam, Dwight, Michael. But wanna know something? None of these characters are safe from consequences. They get development and depth, all within this office setting, never letting go of that core setting. That it’s an office. Helluva Boss’s setting? It was originally this office filled with these demon assassins. But now it’s… Stolas’s castle with this toxic yaoi ship that we just can’t help but hate.

[feral-renaissance-cat]

I got a repetitive stress injury in my shoulder and it caused me a lot of pain at my retail job. Because of the pain and anxiety over the prospect that my bosses would ask me to keep working, I got heavy brain fog that essentially put me on default autistic factory settings where I forgot everything I knew about interpreting neurotypical subtlety. The problem with that is that I also masked harder to make up for it, and that meant even when I was describing my pain I did it with a flat voice so no one believed me. Then I received multiple scoldings from managers for not doing what I was "asked", when in fact the way they asked me was to say "Hey maybe don't do that thing you're doing because this other thing needs to get done." So of course the default autism factory settings scan that phrase, don't see a direct order, infer that someone else could do the other thing, and toss it out in favor of not having to switch tasks. Cue further stress because now my bosses are mad at me, I can't tell what I've done wrong, I'm still being asked to do stuff that hurts my shoulder because my bosses don't believe it's that bad, and eventually my body just shut down and I was sick for a week.

No one should get treated like that in general, but everyone at that store knew I was autistic because I never shut up about how it made me really good at inventory management. The bosses really took one look at me and said, "Well we don't see a reason to treat you different because clearly you're capable of working, so you probably just need a disciplinary write up or two and you'll realize you're fine."

Being autistic is like screaming through a megaphone “please don’t overwork me, i WILL explode” and everyone responds like haha well. You’ll get used to it over time :)

[plumeria1]

Her Dream Gift

Masterlist

Note : Vi is in the spotlight for this second day of the Arcane Valentine's Day Week. I think this is my favorite post of this week dedicated to love.

Pairing: Vi x Fem Reader

Warning: None

Content: Fluff

Summary: You give to Vi her Valentine's day gift

For the past three years that you had been together, on every Valentine's Day you always wore a pretty dress, yet this time you surprised her by wearing leather pants and a white denim jacket over a purple t-shirt.

You surprised her by picking her up in a taxi after her day at work at her father Vander's garage.

-Hey, angel, what are you doing here?

-I'm here to give you your Valentine's Day gift.

You had a smile and a mysterious look. She knew you were up to something, but what surprised her was that you had come by taxi. You had a car and she knew you had no problem, so why didn't you come with your car?

She quickly moved on, far too happy to see you, and got into the taxi, kissing you quickly. She would have liked the kiss to be longer, but she preferred to wait until you were alone.

-Where are we going?

-If I tell you, it will ruin the surprise, and don't try to guess either.

She laughed, you knew her so well.

-I didn't have time to change.

It was true, she had just had time to grab her red leather jacket before joining you; underneath, she was still wearing her tank top with a few grease stains and black pants.

-You didn't need it. Besides, even if you were wearing a garbage bag, you'd still be beautiful.

-Do I have the right to ask a question?

-Of course.

-Why did you come by taxi? Does your car have a problem?

You knew she would ask you the question, sometimes she could be quite predictable.

-My car's fine, but I had forgotten that I had agreed to lend it to your sister for tonight. And I don't mind coming by taxi, it's not a long ride.

Vi slightly furrowed her brows but didn't ask any more questions; it often happened that you lent your car to Powder, so it wasn't strange.

The thirty-minute drive went by quite quickly, probably because you spent all your time chatting about your day, you at the clothing store and Vi at the garage.

You felt the taxi slow down and then stop in front of a small dirt path that led to a small clearing where Vi and you often went to relax.

-We're here, ladies.

You paid the driver and he opened the trunk for you. Vi got out, thanking the driver, and watched you pull out a large black sports bag from the trunk. You had just added another question to her internal search to guess what you were going to give her.

She offered to carry the bag for you, thinking she might be able to guess its contents.

-Okay, but don't open it.

You looked serious when you told her that. She absolutely must not know what was in that bag, or it would ruin the surprise. A gust of wind made you tighten your jacket around you.

-Come on, or you'll end up freezing to death.

You laughed sarcastically.

-Very funny, it's easy for you, you're a walking radiator.

-That's why you love me.

You climbed the path, and when you arrived, Vi was impressed. A fire was burning, on the floor, pillows were arranged on a tablecloth, and as she moved forward, she saw that you had placed most of the things she loved to eat on this tablecloth, and you had even thought to bring beers because you knew she hated wine and champagne.

-You did this?

-Yes, but I had help.

She kissed you long and hard, and you had to push her away because you knew that if you let her continue, you would end up being her dinner. You guided her to the pillows where she let herself fall heavily, making you laugh; she knew that doing this didn't bother you.

It's one of the reasons why she loved you so much, she knew that with you she could be natural and unfiltered. Simply being herself. And you did the same on your side because for her, as for you, the most important thing in a relationship was to be yourself above all, and that's how you were.

After a dinner full of laughter and a few kisses, it was finally time for Vi to receive her gift. You made her turn around while you blindfolded her, then you helped her get up.

-Why the headband?

-For the element of surprise.

-Why didn't you just put your hands in front of my eyes?

You let out a sigh through your nose.

-Because you are taller than me and I know very well that as soon as I take my hands away, you will try to cheat.

After a few steps, you stopped and told Vi to remove the blindfold. She frowned when she saw a large black tarp covering something she couldn't guess. She turned to you, curious.

-What is...

You pushed her gently.

-Go check it out.

She followed your advice and headed towards the tarp, lifting it under your hopeful eyes, hoping she would like her gift.

She stopped before she had finished removing the tarp, having lifted it enough to see what was underneath.

-No way.

She removed the tarp in one go, and in front of her was a BMW R 1250 GS Adventure. She had been dreaming of this bike for over a year but had never managed to save enough money.

Vi looked at you again, still in shock.

-How did you...

You knew she would be surprised, but you didn't imagine she would be this surprised.

-Happy Valentine's Day, Vi.

She rushed towards you and took you in her arms, lifting you up with a laugh. When she set you down, she kissed your entire face and ended with a long kiss that you returned this time.

-I can't believe it, you're crazy for giving me this, it costs a fortune.

You could see the joy in her eyes; you had never seen her so happy. She was right, that motorcycle had cost you a fortune, but seeing her so happy was worth its weight in gold.

You gave her time to admire it and went to get the bag you had placed next to the tablecloth.

-There's that too.

Vi took the bag and opened it, inwardly jubilant at the thought of finally knowing what it contained. She smiled upon discovering two helmets. One was obviously for you because she had promised to take you with her when she had the money for the motorcycle.

"Even if it's in ten years, there's no way I'm not taking you with me." That's what she had told you.

-Why am I not surprised by that from you?

-You didn't really think I was going to give you a motorcycle without considering your safety first, did you?

She had that tender look you loved about her, you thought it made her look like a puppy.

-I don't know what to say, thank you angel.

-I don't need you to thank me, you also gave me an incredible gift.

She had to give you your gift a day earlier because you caught her wrapping it.

She didn't expect you to come home earlier than planned, she was a bit disappointed to have to give it to you before the date, but you told her it didn't bother you.

When you opened it, you jumped for joy upon seeing that she had managed to find what you had been looking for for a month without success.

-By the way, for your information, you will be the first to drive it; no one has ever even gotten on it.

She took you in her arms again and kissed the top of your head. There was a question she had just thought of.

-Wait, if no one got on it, how did it get here?

-It's thanks to Ekko, he borrowed Benzo's trailer and brought the motorcycle with him.

-I will need to remember to thank him.

A gust of wind brought you back to reality.

-What if we leave now?

-Very good idea, I'm starting to feel cold.

Vi pulled you towards the motorcycle and got on with a smile before putting on her helmet, letting you do the same. Then she felt your hands grip her. Internally, she suspected that was why you loved riding with her so much, but she would be lying if she said she didn't like it.

You were enjoying her warmth and she was enjoying the sensation of your hands on her. With a kick, she folded the crutch and started, taking both of you home.

[lsunstreakerl]

sunny i would die for seb and lewis’s reactions to finding out they neglected max in that a/b/o verse

maybe... maybe more on this later... I'm already at 1.6k words though so here you go!

"I mean, come on man, it can't be any worse than Max."

Lewis's voice is light as he laughs, and he's trying to ease the new rookies into the pack, make them feel at home, but Daniel's jaw clenches anyways, scent sharpening.

He's been butting heads with Lewis for the past year- hard enough convincing Max that his omega status didn't have anything to do with him leaving, even harder to actually leave him.

He'd been hoping with three new rookies maybe the pack would start to ease up- they're closer to Max's age, knew him as kids.

But here Lewis is, using him as some kind of scapegoat, and Daniel-

Hulk nudges him gently.

"Mate- you are going to stink up the whole room if you don't quit."

Daniel forces the feeling back down, gets control back over his scent. Still- when Lewis gets a taste of it, looks over at him with concern- Daniel meets his gaze head on, lip curling slightly in a snarl.

It's openly defiant, and he's lucky no one else notices, otherwise Lewis would be forced to confront it immediately, handle whatever challenge Daniel has for him publicly.

But Lewis doesn't like to lead like that, so he just narrows his eyes before he finishes the rookie tour.

Daniel means to forget about it, scrolling his phone in the lounge when the door swings back open. Lewis stalks back in, and his scent is both confused and agitated.

"What the fuck, Daniel?"

Daniel barely glances up from his phone. He hasn't done anything close to forgetting about it- he's spent the last forty five minutes remembering every slight against Max, getting progressively more worked up about it, and his scent is permeating the room, defensive and angry.

If he's finally going to blow his lid about the Max thing, he's going to make it worth it.

Seb slips in, and both Charles and Hulk follow- two people Daniel is likely to listen to if somehow the pack alpha and omega can't get through to him.

They'll probably have a whole crowd by the time Daniel is done.

"Can I help you?"

Seb's eyebrows shoot up as Lewis snarls softly.

"I don't know what your problem is Dan, but if we could talk about it, instead of you challenging me when I'm bringing in rookies-"

Daniel scoffs.

"What, like bringing in rookies is sacred? I'm not exactly sure when you two started giving a shit about that."

Seb looks startled at being included, but Daniel's certainly not letting him get out of it.

"Daniel- bringing in rookies has always been important to us."

The snarl from his chest surprises even him, the result of years of watching Max, endlessly hopeful for approval and acknowledgment but never getting it, watching a pup- an omega pup- try and hide his heartbreak each time he's passed over-

Garages are not meant to be packs, but Redbull is, because the drivers pack has failed.

"Go ahead and tell that to Max, yeah? I'm sure he'll agree with you."

The scents in the room sour, and Lewis's face scrunches up.

"Okay- I know we dropped the ball on Max, but Daniel- he's a beta. And he's okay, clearly."

Daniel's scent is a thick cloud in the room, ozone and lightning, a near oppressive miasma.

"Alex is a beta. So was Sergey. That didn't stop either of them from being brought into the pack, did it?"

He abruptly stands up, and Seb takes a step back while Lewis snarls back at him, but Daniel's not backing down, not even to the pack alpha, not for this, not for Max.

"And don't fucking tell me that 'he's okay'. You aren't in that garage- you'd love to pretend he doesn't exist, wouldn't you?"

His accent has thickened, and Seb releases his scent a bit, tries to sooth the room.

"Daniel- I think we've had a miscommunication, yes? Max has not wanted to be in the pack."

"Oh don't- don't even start-"

Daniel's growling, low in his chest.

"You wouldn't know, because you never fucked asked- and if you had, maybe you would have realized that he did, he just doesn't know how to say it- and maybe that's because he's a fucking pup!"

He's right up and Lewis's face, and Lewis finally lets go on his scent- there's a brief moment where it's smothering, telling Daniel to stand down, but-

"Or maybe you could use your eyes, or your nose, or if you're feeling really generous, your brain- and you'll notice he's not a damn beta at all, you stupid cunts, he's an omega, and right now Redbull's picking up all the slack!"

Max had- Max had begged Daniel not to tell them, but Daniel can't keep it to himself anymore, can't bear to watch it- and Max feels betrayed enough already, it's not like he can make it worse.

There's a sharp scent change, horror from Seb and a deep note of surprise from Charles and Hulk, but Lewis-

Lewis makes a wounded noise, stepping back.

"No- no? No, we would have- we would have noticed."

Daniel feels the laugh bubble out of him.

"Well, great job on that front, cheers to the pack alpha, yeah? Wrap it up, Lewis Hamilton is soooo great he can decide dynamics now!"

"Daniel."

Seb's voice is sharp, the one he used when Daniel was younger, getting into things he shouldn't, toeing the line in press conferences. Daniel doesn't care- he's not the rookie anymore, he had his own rookie, and he's doing exactly what Seb taught him to do- protecting him.

Daniel doesn't want to hear whatever it is Seb has to say- something to smooth over the situation, to make it less than it is, and he doesn't-

He doesn't want to hear it.

"No, fuck that, I'm going out."

He stalks past Lewis, who takes a few steps after him.

"Hamilton, if you don't actually want to fight with me right now, stop following."

Daniel lets the door slam behind him, and some part of him feels the sting- he's treating pack like shit right now, but deeper, tucked underneath it-

He wants to go see Max. If only to sooth the ache in his own chest. Wants to curl up in the team nest and have Max doze off next to him, bury his nose in his hair and smell pine and tart blackberries, the slight edge of milky pup scent he hasn't quite managed to get rid of yet.

No one in Redbull has told Max- as far as Daniel is aware- that when he's curled up in a pack pile, deeply asleep, sometimes he'll purr.

It's a treasured memory, because Max straight up refuses to do it any other time. GP has the best luck in the team of drawing it out, but Daniel is a close second.

Was a close second.

He stops for a moment, realizing he can't. He can't go to back to Redbull and climb in the nest, can't curl up with Max and the others, and this is why garages aren't usually pack- it hurts too much when a driver leaves.

"Fuck."

------

It's Charles that breaks the silence, looking wide-eyed at Seb.

"Max? Max is an omega?"

Seb opens his mouth before shutting it again. He's not-

He doesn't know what to say. Doesn't know how to make it better, hasn't even fully digested the implications of what Daniel had shouted at them.

Max Verstappen is a beta. He's an aggressive beta, cocky and arrogant, who wants nothing to do with them, and he's a danger to the pack on track.

Seb's head hurts. Trying to reframe it-

Max Verstappen is an omega. He's practically still a pup, has pack bonded with his garage, and-

And wanted to be part of the pack. As a driver. Because he is, he's a driver, and he's so young still, and he's-

"Seb,"

It's Lewis with his hand on his shoulder, soothing him, and Seb barely recognizes his own scent, drenched in shame and guilt and sorrow.

"We'll fix it- we can go talk to him."

An omega. They're few and far between as is- the loss of Nico to the grid had been rough, and even now as Seb is thinking about it, Nico had spent so much time with Max-

"Lewis- Lewis, Nico knew-"

He sees the moment it hits Lewis as well, jaw clenching as his squeezes his eyes shut briefly.

"Damn it."

Lewis turns to Charles and Hulk.

"You two- none of this leaves this room until Seb and I get it figured out, got it?"

Charles nods meekly, half hidden behind Hulk, and Seb is sure the two of them smell horrid at the moment, but they need to fix this-

Omega. A pup, and Seb had seen Jos, there's no way Max got what he needed, and he's-

He's relying on his garage for his needs, when garages aren't built for it, aren't designed to withstand pack dynamics. They can't function under the strain, and the chances of having a Team Principal who is also a pack alpha are slim. A Team Principal and separate pack alpha leads to issues within the pack, and he has no idea how Redbull has been managing for two years.

God. Max wasn't even an adult, and all Seb had seen was an arrogant kid, hadn't even taken a second to look further.

Maybe if he had they wouldn't have missed it.

Instead, they now have a deeply damaged pack bond with Daniel, a nonexistent pack bond with a grid omega, and potentially an entire team under packbond strain.

How this is only blowing up their faces now is a miracle.

[sinnabarmoth]

Idk if you’ve done this already, but what do you think the LIs’ “type” would be, focusing on personality? Ik they’re in love with MC, but I’d like to give hope to those who don’t relate to MC (including me T^T)

Zayne: For Zayne I get the vibe that he would love a soft extrovert. Someone who enjoys going out and trying new things and can pull him out of his shell but is very chill about it. They are a very optimistic person and are bubbly but in a laid back kind of way. Ideal dates are trying out new restaurants or signing up for a one night beginners tango class but also like taking walks through the park. I also think someone with a lot of patience and organizational skills would just be a big plus for him too. He not only wants but needs someone like that in his life because he will only work and go home otherwise.

Xavier: Xavier for sure likes the cozy gamer girl introvert! Despite his job what he really seems to like is just staying at home and having a peaceful time in. She's in his hoodie 24/7, is on year 5 of a Stardew Valley farm, snacks on the desk, the whole shebang. They are the cuddle couple. They will be sat in the living room playing a co-op game and she is in his lap while they are playing and tries to distract him by suddenly kissing him and stuff. She's baking cookies partly for snacks and partly to make the house smell incredible. When they do go out it's usually to an old reliable favorite restaurant or playing at the arcade. I think someone who can just be this well of soft mundane pleasures to come home to after a long day is what he would love!

Rafayel: Rafayel is the kind of guy where his partner needs to be able to match his freak. Whatever energy he is coming at them with his partner has not only gotta be able to receive but also deal it back at 200%. Someone who isn't afraid to tease and be sarcastic and a little dramatic. Raf is the kind of guy who will play fight with you whenever just cause he's bored. You'll be at an art gallery and he'll be looking for an excuse to cut out early and gives you a look and you both just silently agree to start having a stupid verbal fight right then and there. He's trying not to laugh the entire time and it always ends with one of you chasing after the other like "No baby! Don't go! I'll change I swear!" Someone who will drag him out of his house and force him to be social but also loves being able to cancel plans to stay inside when they are straight up not feeling the crowd vibe. Someone not so serious and with a good sense of humor is a huge win in his book!

Sylus: Sylus is looking for someone adaptable and able to roll with the punches. Oh we have to go to a different restaurant for dinner super last minute? Sure, not a problem. Someone who is independent and has a sharp tongue that isn't afraid to call him out on stuff. I really just see him with someone who is like "this is my guard dog Sylus, I can tell him stand down but 9 times out of 10 I will let him kill you. He needs the enrichment." He likes someone who likes new experiences and doesn't mind being the center of attention because you know he is going to be dragging them along everywhere he goes. He loves to be able to flaunt his partner and while being shy can be cute there's something so damn attractive about a partner who knows they are hot stuff.

[marbofmoorock]

I am convinced this is a Daydream Zooble has.

I'm making an abstragedy story out of this:

TADC AU: Skater Gangle Universe

Cast:

Gangle: Kind of a jaded, yet friendly tomboy punk, she's more like Zooble in this Universe, kind of passive aggressive with a bit of an edge, but she kills it on the board, shredding everything in the circus, adventures included. Caine is secretly impressed, and Zooble is infatuated with Gangle, always doing doodles of her and the other cast members. Gangle is pretty bold, not taking any of Jax's junk, often calling out his pranks before he can pull them on her, often breaking it with her board, due to being fed up with Jax(Caine often snaps her board back to normal with no problem). Often Gangle spends her free time in her room designing boards. She's also great at surfing and snowboarding. She sticks up for herself and what she knows as right, taking on an honest outlook on the circus, knowing she's trapped and enjoying it.

Pomni: A new arrival to the circus, she pops into the circus with her Jester outfit, trying to enjoy the adventures. In this Universe, Pomni has a knack for telling really lame jokes as a way to deal with the fact she can't find the exit. Cringeworthy dad puns which get on Jax's nerves such as "What wears shoes, but has no feet? The pavement." (Haahahahahahaha). Constantly laughing at her own jokes, she lives up to being the Jester, constantly cackling and giggling at even a semblance of humor. Everybody treats Pomni kind of like the crazy one, as Pomni sort of acts like Kinger, laughing maniacally at times and speaking of nonsense due to occasional memory lapses.

Kinger: in this Universe, Kinger is intact mind wise, and loves to spend time with the others. Sad over Queenie's death, he commits to helping the others in her honor, being like a group father and uplifting everyone while sharing trivia and fun facts. He and Ragatha immediately take Pomni as if they're both Aunt and Uncle, looking after her as if she was her niece. Ragatha is super cuddly, especially with Jax.

Zooble: Shy and Sweet, sort of swapping personalities with Gangle, Zooble is timid, shy, and very agreeable. Often letting Jax Jax play with her parts and throw them around until he gets bored, Zooble kinda just plays along to the adventures and goes with the flow, often indifferent to Jax's antics in order to get him to stop in a more subtle way. She's always lending a hand because she has so many to spare, sensitive, easily upset by others.

Ragatha: Kind, gentle, and devoted, Ragatha in this universe is about the same as the digital circus Ragatha, with one exception. She is more openly loving towards all members of the cast more than she was before, always putting her heart foot forward to provide them with her love with Kinger being like an uncle to Her Ragatha and him working together to be the group mom and dad so nobody is left behind, which annoys Gangle slightly(but reluctantly agreees), but Zoobie and Pomni are happy that there is a group. Ragatha and Jax are close.

Jax: Jax is mostly the same character we all know and love/hate, but with a slight twist. Instead of being a jerk and purposely hurting others for fun, Jax in this AU prefers to pull harmless pranks instead, and go soft on others, especially Ragatha, whom he had a HEALTHY relationship with(too much abusive relationship posting with bunnydoll shippers).

TADC AU: Shredding Mask

"I wish she would shred me..." Thought Zooble, as she stared in awe as Gangle boldly skates and slides on a railing and around the tent, lots of sparks trailing behind, leaving Zooble in awe.

Gangle sees Zooble watching and gives her a wink, and Zooble falls backwards fainting, all her interchangeable limbs falling apart when she falls on the ground. "Gosh, I hope she skates holding my head next time, mmm, yes~" Says Zooble, blissing out getting to see Gangle do tricks yet again.

Jax walks up, "Well, well, I guess somebody really broke down, huh? You and Gangle should get a room already."

Zooble is too focused on Gangle to even hear Jax, which he shrugs his shoulders at.

Ragatha then walks up, helping Zooble get back together, Jax assists Ragatha and soon she's back together but easily dazed. If she had a nose, it would be bleeding.

"Golly..." Muttered Zooble as she was still dazed by Gangle.

Ragatha chuckles, " Come on Jax, let's give our friend with a crush some space."

"Whatever you say, dollface. " Says Jax as they glance toward each other in their own flirtatious way, happy to be with each other as they give Zooble some space.

Pomni and Kinger are watching all of this go down.

"So, they're like, in love?"

"HA-Well, I suppose that could be the case for Zooble. Maybe Gangle hasn't fully noticed yet."

"Oh Gosh, it's one sided?!"

"Ha-Don't worry, word will get around fast. I remember when Jax was trying to tell Ragatha how he felt. It was the same old story, but Ragatha's certainly no Tomboy like Gangle."

"The Skater Punk and Bashful Artist, I think there's potential..."

Gangle rolls over and does a circle around Zooble, to which Zooble watches quietly.

"Hi Gangle"

Gangle stops, and kicks up her board in her hand, somewhat huffy from her workout. "Yeah, What up, Potato Head?"

"You think I'm a...potato~?" Zooble blushes intensely.

Gangle, slightly weirded out, responds: "It's a joke, but whatever."

"You're funny... you know that?" Zooble says in a wistful sort of way.

Gangle found Zooble's statement kinda odd, but didn't dislike her or anything, so she walks over and helps her up.

"So uh, did you draw anything cool?"

Zooble gets giddy and excited hearing her say that, but then tries to play it cool so she doesn't freak Gangle out.

"Yeah-Oh, uh, yeah, yeeeah...feel free to check it out or whatever."

Zooble gives Gangle her notebook, and Gangle looks through it, finding a bunch of pictures of her skateboarding.

"Wow, these are really good. I look awesome. Thanks Zooble."

Zooble blushes doing her cute signature hand wave(Ep. 4): "Ohoho, it was nothing, I like drawing you. You're so inspirin-" Zooble tries to stop talking, embarrassed she unveiled so much about her feelings gushing.

Gangle was touched as she looked through more of the album, realizing half of the pictures were of her, so she turns to Zooble, and uses a softer tone as she didn't realize how much Zooble noticed and cared about her until now.

"Zooble, I...am really happy you drew these pictures of me. You're a very talented artist."

"I am?" Says Zooble, flustered by Gangle's sudden complement.

"Yeah, I reeeally like it." Says Gangle, as she gazes at Zooble.

Zooble sees Gangle's pupils dilating as she gazes, and she gazes back.

"Gangle..." Says Zooble as she stares, "I...always wanted to tell you..."

"No need," retorted Gangle, "I already know."

They walk over to each other and share a long heartfelt hug.

Pomni and Kinger are still secretly watching from behind a corner.

"Ha-they're a total item now."

"Yeah...It's so adorable..."

"Reminds me of Queenie, she always loved hugs the most, she'd whisper bug trivia while we hugged, it always made me chuckle."

"That's so sweet, in the most nerdy kind of way."

"I did study computer science for 7 years. Nerdiness comes with the territory, as does an insect collection and obsessions with game shows."

"Oh Kinger, i have a joke for you."

"Haha-Lay it on me Pomni."

"Did you hear about the Circus Fire? It was in Tents."

"Haha, Good one PomPom."

Caine watches secretly out of sight from an orb, excited about shipping everyone!

"Yeees, YEEESSSS, GANGLE AND ZOOBLE ARE IN LOVE, YEEESSS! NOW THEY'LL ENJOY ALL OF THE ADVENTURES MORE. Now we have an Abstragedy and BunnyDoll! And Pomni and Kinger have a father Daughter thing going on! WAHOOOOOOO! I AM SUCH A GOOD RINGMASTER!"

"Yeah you are." Said the Moon flirtatiously, walking up to Caine, massaging his shoulders.

Caine then Turns to face Moon. "Oh Moon, I am so glad you're here."

"You know i love you~"

Caine Blushes: " I do. I really do."

"Kiss me already with those teeth lips of yours."

Caine and the Moon Kiss.

The End.

Skater grill gangle bc i like grills