#if you’re actually reading this I’m so sorry

[occamstfs]

Conjuration: The Call

Ozzie begrudgingly plays a thinly disguised trading card game and finds some fun teaching his meathead friend a lesson.

Something between a role reversal and devolution! Jock -> Twink and Nerd -> Brute! Hope you enjoy this tale of a wishful role-player growing to dominate a try hard, Best! -Occam

Ozzie absolutely hated trading card games, he missed the boat and loathed being made to feel stupid like they always end up doing. Perhaps some self-reflection could see him giving Conjuration: the Call a fair shake, when a game of CTC was thrust on him instead of the DND session he was coming to play, the man was in not so charitable a mood.

Prepped to play his Druid all night, Ozzie is sulking in the kitchen when his friend Lily, patient zero of getting their group playing CTC again, brings over a proxy deck she made for him. “Heyyy babe~ Sorry about the bait and switch, I thought we were going to play DND too but apparently Mark’s sick and Alex thought this would be a great chance for you to learn how to play!”

His scowl quickly shifts between Lily, her half-hearted olive branch, and their friend group’s surly Adonis, Alex, who winks before returning to set up the table for their game. Ozzie sighs, not wanting to make a scene, he reaches out to inspect the printed deck in her hands. She perks up, “perfect! You’re gonna love it I swear!

The hitherto hater sighs, “ughh. You guys are just going to steamroll me like always! Is the deck too complicated to learn on the fly?” Her eyes glimmer as she slyly makes sure Alex can’t hear, “Not at all! I’ll be right there if you need any help and-“ 

Before she can explain, the man at the table interrupts, “you ladies done yet?” In their running campaign the impatient Alex plays a barbarian which mimics both his stature and nature out of game quite well, in Conjuration however he’s emerged as quite the rival to Lucy. Which Ozzie knows as she begins to explain, now at a whisper, “okay so it’s actually a deck to counter Alex’s.”

She immediately goes to defend her ulterior motives as Ozzie’s scowl returns with a vengeance, “oh c’mooon Ozz, I made this whole deck for you! I found the commander in the bulk bin and thought it sounded like your thing!” Shuffling through the box he checks it out, Loggan the Brain, nice and holographic. He pauses to appreciate how it feels in his hands, heavier than expected and almost warm to the touch. After a moment he looks up to find Lily has already gone to join the rest of the party at the table.

Finishing up his huffing, Ozzie sits opposite Alex who performatively flexes as he shuffles his deck, “Ready to get schooled by the man?” They’re friends at the end of the day so Ozzie doesn’t try to hide his irritation as he responds, “oh I’m sure there’s nothing you love more than beating newbies huh”

Alex takes a few seconds trying to think of some clever reply but after a few playful jibes from Lily and Tim, their fourth player, he decides to save any further taunts for the game. It’s not Ozzie’s first time playing Conjuration, how else would he hold it in such blatant disregard. Resolutely he refuses a tutorial from Alex and Lily. The pair make eye contact as they try to push down the urge to take candy from the new player and instead scheme how they can both use his inexperience to their advantage.

The first couple rounds go by in a flash, the other three begin setting up decks they are clearly incredibly familiar with while Ozzie races to read the little cheat sheet Lily made for the deck before performing a decent opening few rounds himself. Ozzie figures Alex must be running some kind of counterspell deck as Lily’s notes make it very clear that this proxy is a counter-counterspell deck, as it were. 

Lily would never be able to play this deck as it relies on someone counterspelling the Loggan the Brain without checking the specifics, and Alex would never do so to someone with as firm a grasp as her. When Ozzie goes to summon his commander though there's a glimmer in the jock’s eyes as his fingers go to counter the summon before Ozzie even announces, and in doing so he falls into the trap of the deck. 

Alex reaches over to push Loggan back off the board only to be stopped by Lily, almost shaking from excitement as she bursts out into laughter and explains the situation. She points to the ability text Drain: Start of the round gains one “Devolution” spell card. When “Devolution” is used to counter an offensive spell on yourself, put a token on Loggan the Brain. After ten tokens are placed on Loggan the Brain, replace him with Ogg the Brawn.

Hearing his opponent groan from an easily averted own goal he finishes his turn to see Alex scratching his chest and complaining, “I’ve never seen these stupid cards before, are you sure these are legal?” His eyes narrow at Lily who shrugs and tries to taunt him into casting a spell at Ozzie, “Who knows man, maybe it’s not even that good? You should cast a spell at him to see what it does!” With a wry grin she meets Alex’s scowl. For now he stills his hand as they prepare to deal with the quiet Tim as he quickly becomes the biggest threat on the board.

When it comes back to Ozzie’s turn the fun begins at last, launching a spell at Alex who has no choice but to counter, which is of course met with the new player’s own “Devolution” counter. Ozzie and Alex both open their mouths to complain, about the game being convoluted and unfair respectively. Before they can lash out however both men see a token appear on Loggan the Brain without anyone reaching to put it there. 

Only Alex and Ozzie seem to notice the board changing without any human aid, before they can react however they are both filled with an alien warmth. Alex’s hands shoot to his crotch and his face flares with embarrassment. All eyes fall to him as he almost squeaks as his meaty hands struggle to hide the fact that he’s getting obscenely hard at the CTC table, “GrheEEK! AH- hEM” the macho man tries to hide the voice crack from the table, failing to do so they all incredulously stare.

“Psh jeez- can’t a dude sneeze? Fuck!” Knowing they have most of a game still ahead of them no one goes in too hard on Alex, even as his complaints sound decidedly whinier to their ears. Were they to look even a smidge closer at the sscowling man’s face they’d surely see its hard edges begin to soften as his scratchy perma-stubble starts thinning. Alex flips through his bulky hand wondering how he’s going to overcome the pair of opponents, ignorant as his arms are slowly drained of the strength he has honed for over a decade at the gym.

oes Ozzie fail to see how he too begins to shift over the next round. When all hands go to counter a spell cast once more the situation ends once more with Alex being rebuffed by a Devolution card Ozzie drew. Thin fingers go to cover his mouth as he tries to quiet his laughter at Alex’s lips pulling into a pout, looking plumper than usual. Ozzie ignores the flitter at finding that exciting to instead taunt the man looking mousier but is distracted as he scratches his cheek, “Ah c’mon there Aluh- hm.” 

Ozzie pauses as he hears his fingers scratching at, well it sounds like stubble? After a few more strokes he speaks up again, “Uhh guys did I need to shave when I came in?” The party is focussed on his question so they take no heed of his voice sagging deeper with every word. Instead they narrow their eyes at his jawline. It takes him quite a while to grow any kind of facial hair so it’s not like it just sprouted up all of a sudden? Right? Alex laughs and rubs his own face, “Ah Hah! Followin’ the lead of your favorite role model huh! Heehee! Er-”

All laugh as Alex giggles uncharacteristically, cuing him up to go all out and defend his fragile masculinity. Ozzie sits back and watches as him and Lily tag team their fourth player into an early knock-out. All the while though he begins to feel odd? His palms are sweaty, upon closer inspection he realizes his whole form is sweaty. 

Eyes off him he airs out his chest and yelps as he accidentally grabs a tuft of chest hair. He looks down his shirt, slightly obscured by a stubbly little mustache poking out of his upper lip and barely quiets a gasp from shock as he sees a few curls sticking out the center of his bony chest. His inspection then falls onto the hand still grasping at his tee, almost imperceptible blond hairs that have humbly decorated his wrist have lengthened, darkened, and spread into a truly thick jungle on his forearms.

Needing to draw a few more cards to get his target out, Alex can’t help but shoot a couple more spells out at Lily who then redirects them to Ozz. Returning his focus to the board he grunts and prepares to take the hit before checking his hand to find two more copies of Devolution in his hand. He tosses them clumsily on the table and guffaws and shouts in his gruffer voice, “Hah! When’re you gonna learn to not target the man, fucker!” Ozzie reclines once more as Alex ignores his taunts and continues to take his turn.

Half-way to switching out his commander for a card he hasn’t read yet he tugs down his shirt as he feels a breeze on his exposed midriff. There seems to be a volley of new curls stretching above his waistline, briefly making sure no one’s watching he scratches at the pubes slowly inching into a dense treasure trail and almost moans at the distracting pleasure. With each quivering new sensation the blonde curls he has long been proud of darken and recede to something choppy and brown, shrinking back as from every inch of his form curls of the same pervasive brown race to assert his primal masculinity.

With each drag into the growing garden of hair on his waist the urge to vocalize his pleasure grows more difficult to ignore. The stubble on his face continues to thicken, growing into something more than five o’clock shadow that would put Alex’s to shame at its best. Speaking of, as his usual ungroomed stubble continues to fade and shrink into a face shifting as smooth as porcelain he can’t help but stare at Ozzie’s face with jealousy, his cock pulsing once more in his gym shorts and he grits his teeth, forcing himself to focus on the game and not on how Ozzie’s sleeves almost seem to be hugging his arms.

Ozzie similarly doesn’t see as his eyes are closed to be almost obscenely lost in the fulfillment of scratching his itch. Though he feels it. His arms slowly edging larger, straining his sleeves almost to tearing with each meagre movement. He feels stubble slowly growing up past his neckline, giving him a few stray curls that would need a turtleneck to hide as his chest begins to amass new weight and muscle itself.

In his death throes Tim follows Lily’s lead and forces Alex to toss a few more spells that will hopefully be blocked at Ozzie. Still lost in the reverie of his changing form, Ozzie doesn’t even check his cards as his hand quickly shoots up from his crotch and tosses two cards onto the table. Without looking two more tokens appear on Loggan the Brain and both Alex and Ozz clench the table as they are struck with another wave of changes. 

The other two players at the table are suddenly engrossed in checking their hands, as if compelled to not notice as Alex is suddenly swimming in clothes that he chose explicitly to highlight how built he was looking today, his neckline droops low enough that it should expose his burly-hair covered chest. The only thing it shows now however are two spray-tanned pecs that seem to be shrinking.

Alex doesn’t notice as his shoes almost fall off of his feet as they drop a few sizes, no instead he bites his lip and stares hungrily at the man who was supposed to be his quarry. His cock feels wanting his balls blue, more than that though for the first time in his life his ass almost feels empty, in need of something- or someone. He doesn’t put two and two together as he continues to stare at Ozzie growing hairier. 

The once mousy man finally fills his nerdy tee enough that it begins to fray and tear. Similarly do the slacks he threw on for game day find themselves more than filled with meaty thighs and a package that has blossomed into an absolute veiny beast. His eyes widen in wonder as he takes it in for the first time. His thicker, rougher hands reach downward and with the slightest touch his hips buck and his zipper blows out as his cock strains it to the breaking point. Barely contained in his briefs Ozzie has to ignore the wet patch of pre staining through them and put all his energy towards not cumming then and there in front of his friends as the game remains ongoing.

While the two were distracted by their changing tastes and bodies, Tim was officially knocked out of the game leaving everyone worse for wear. Though after another couple rounds it becomes clear that Alex is very much off his game. His white teeth continue to chew at his plumper lips as he’s lost in thought. 

Ozzie similarly chews his lip, champing at the bit as he stares at the shrinking man. Fuuuck, he’s real cute when he works himself up. His inner monologue sinks deeper in tone to match his new voice as his thoughts grow rougher, simpler. Under the table his hand can’t help but go to his crotch as images of some massive beast of a man dominating the twink push to the front of his mind. Drool dripping from teeth bared onto Alex’s back as he arches up into heavy pecs, as if he were made to be under the man, if he were made to be under Ozz- Fuck.

Alex shivers as the table shakes from Ozzie rutting into it, gasping as his own ass fills out. He’d never really spent dedicated time crafting the perfect butt, or no- is that true? His phone suddenly fills with nudes taken of his sculpted, smooth butt and sent to- Ozzie’s bearded face forces itself to the front of his mind. Alex can almost feel his sweaty muscular chest against his own, his fingers curling around hair that inches up from his ass and down from his shoulders. He can almost feel the phantom cock he’s bouncing on before across the table the only player not lost to their lusts clears her throat.

“What is up with you guys?” There’s forced confidence but something is clearly throwing her off her game. Something’s not right. Is it? Oggie- Er, Ozzie? He’s always been a tank, it’s why he’s been so against playing right? And Alex, well shoot that twink is obsessed with Conjuration since it’s the only game or sport that he can beat his- She clenches at her head as she’s seized by a migraine. Perhaps that’s how she falls into the trap that Alex has been setting since turn one.

“Ah HA! Finally biitch! You played right into my hands!” His voice cracks higher, something in the back of her mind swears she’d never let Alex call her a bitch but as she looks at the twink she can’t imagine why. The cocky sneer remains on Alex's face as his hair lengthens into a floppy garden of dirty blonde curls, after looking at the board it fades a little as he struggles to recall how exactly he’s supposed to finish her, “Uhm?”

He scratches at his head and the sleeve hanging on his thin bicep slides back, revealing his pit as the last few hairs remaining of his once proud tuft fall away, leaving behind a fruity scent that will never quite fade instead of the heady musk that could never be quenched. Ozzie didn’t realize he was staring at the twinks pits as they finished smoothing. Looking to his own pit stains on a shirt that seems moments from bursting off his form, he grins toothily and figures he produces well enough stink for the both of them. His canines almost feel larger in his mouth.

 After the song and dance of Lily walking Alex through her own defeat, accompanied by a fair share of giggles from a man who wouldn’t be caught dead speaking even vaguely ‘like a chick’ before the game, Lily heads off with Tim to go grab pizza before the next game. Leaving behind Alex and Ozzie as the game nears its close. Both men struggle to decide on their next moves, or rather if they care enough to even make them, as the other players depart. Ozzie scratches the back of his head like an ape, apathetic to his arm finally bursting free from its sleeve and exposing a hairy pit that Alex eyes hungrily. 

Drooling and wanting to be done with the game as soon as possible the once jock eyes his hand filled with spells and wonders why he has so many? Was there a reason he wasn’t using them? He hesitantly throws one down and is immediately met by a counter. Ozzie grunts as his form bulges larger, brow jutting slightly over blue eyes that don’t quite look so bright any more. He tears off his shirt with one meaty fist before moving to scratch at the carpet of hair covering his torso as if it were a shirt itself.

Ozzie’s own eyes glaze over as he drops his cards on the table, he want game over. His underwear is filled to breaking and he grimaces before going to tear them off just like his shirt. Grunting he punches the table in shock as the elastic band snaps back against him. Veins bulge everywhere across his form as rage fills him enough to rival his hunger for the twink sitting across from him. Struggling to control his breathing as he sits stewing in lust and anger he speaks in a gravely town as his stomach begins to bloat, “Your turn,”

Alex similarly is lacking the focus to continue the game, tossing his hand down his eyes flash as the remaining tokens stack onto Ozzie’s card. Neither man notices as a final line of text appears at the end of the dense paragraph, “If you lack a copy of Ogg the Brawn in your deck, become one.” He doesn’t read the card of course, nor will he chase the urge to read much of anything anymore, but as the ability is activated OzzOgg obeys the instructions to a tee.

Spit drips between gnashing teeth as Ogg stands to his new height. Waist filling out as he pounds onto the table and he grows into a true brute. The elastic band digging into his waist acts like a flank belt as he glowers at Alex and bucks into the table, making a mess of the organized decks as he feels his mind unable to focus on any pursuit other than chasing his hunger.

Alex stands and his pants fall to the floor, unable to remain on his thinned waist, “O-Ogg?” he squeaks out, what was was a tight muscle tee now hangs off a shoulder, perfectly framing a hard nipple and hiding the noticeably smaller bulge where his dick must be. Ogg knocks the table over and tackles the twink with power he never imagined or desired to have. 

Grunting, Ogg can’t control his hips as they continue to rock and thrust as he struggles to position his twitching cock over Alex who endeavors to roll over and present his perky ass. Ogg forces his face down into the nape of Alex’s neck, breathing in his scent, magically alluring and the diametric opposed to the bestial musk that steams off the man whose eyes dull to a dark brown as his stomach bulges into a massive muscle gut.

Underneath, the twink’s mental faculties grow similarly vacant as he feels the hairy stomach scratching against his back, as Ogg’s massive cock finds purchase and fills him with far more powerful pleasure than what Alex has inflicted on many a partner throughout the years. His moans fill the air, rivalling Ogg’s grunts as the pair leave sweat and cum stains on the cold tile. 

The air of the apartment is filled with Ogg’s primal, almost proto-human musk which only makes Alex hungrier for the man he is evermore to be obsessed with. When his face is shoved into Ogg’s jungle of pit hair he wonders how he lived before now as his cock is pressed up against Ogg’s bulky, curl-covered torso.

Eventually their preternatural lusts absolve themselves and in a brief refractory period Alex rushes to clean up the worst of their mess before the other two return with pizza. Ogg of course is no help as he throws on a pair of boxers Alex would’ve sworn were his own and goes to sit on the couch, arm behind his head to air out his steaming pit and continue to rile Alex up. After righting the table and wiping away all the stains he could see the twink indeed goes to nestle up alongside the man on the couch as he throws on some nature documentary.

Alex doesn’t notice as his head finds itself almost immediately in the man’s crotch as his cock starts to poke out the leg of his boxers. Well, when in Rome- Before they can get up to too much fun, they hear the door being jostled. Alex jolts up and swallows the pool of pre-cum filling his mouth before doing a poor job of hiding the rock hard rod in Ogg’s boxers. The brute grunts in irritation and grasps at his needy balls, apathetic to the return of the other platers.

Setting down the pizzas Tim looks over at the clearly worked up pair and rolls his eyes as if this is normal, “Well are you two horndogs up for another game?” Eying both Alex and Tim something besides the Id in Ogg rears up, still seems like there’s a lot left he can drain from the two men. Bulge already inching larger, he stands and goes to pick up Loggan from the floor. Time for round two-

[ye4gerz]

my game, your rules. — ldh part three (FINAL)

‧˚⭒ pairing: lee donghyuck x afab reader 18+MDNI ‧˚⭒ genre: brothers best friend au! fake dating! friends to lovers! humor! fluff! angst! smut! adult life au! jenos sister! flirty hc! ‧˚⭒ word count: 11k+ ‧˚⭒ cw: the beginning part is mostly angst, sorry! smut towards the end. dirty talking, raw sex, choking, etc. drinking, mentions of jaehyun, dom hc. ‧˚⭒ summary: you’re fed up with your family constantly telling you how to live your life, but what would they think if you showed up with your brother’s best friend as your new boyfriend? even worse—what happens when you realize you’re actually falling for him?

‧˚⭒ a/n: thank you for the wait everyone! i realized due to my personal life being so busy sometimes, i’m prob better off sticking to long one shots lmao. sorry i had to end it short at three parts. i'll be working on another one shot soon, thank you to everyone who engaged with the series, enjoy! (ignore any grammatical errors if any)

previous

It was one thing to pretend to be with your brother’s best friend, and another to actually be with your brother’s best friend, but what do you call it when the best friend you’re fake dating starts to feel… real?

You guessed it was whatever complicated, undefined thing you had going on with Haechan right now.

It had been several nights since the first time you’d slept together, and somehow, it had slipped into your routine without much discussion. Every evening, he was there—waiting outside your job to pick you up, a sly grin on his face as if it was the most natural thing in the world. Days and nights repeated like clockwork, neither of you acknowledging the shift, as if naming it would make it too real. Instead, you both just… enjoyed it.

“Fine, we’ll talk about it in the morning.”

Your own words replayed in your mind endlessly, and you found yourself wishing they had been a promise instead of an empty phrase, left to dissolve into the early hours of the day.

Yet, even without a label, you couldn’t deny the effect he had on you. Your stress was melting away bit by bit, the weight of work no longer consuming you like it used to. For the first time in what felt like forever, you were beginning to understand the elusive concept of a work-life balance.

As you stood in front of the mirror, your gaze traveled over your reflection. Love bites peppered your skin, faint but impossible to ignore. Each one held a memory, moments you couldn’t help but replay in your head. You smiled softly, warmth spreading through you at the thought of him.

You missed him already.

“What’s taking so long?” Karina’s voice snapped you out of your thoughts, followed by a series of impatient knocks on the bathroom door.

“Sorry!” you called back, hurriedly finishing your last-minute outfit adjustments. “I’m coming out now!”

Tonight was girls night—a night you’d promised yourself would be nothing but fun, but as you opened the door and met Karina’s scrutinizing gaze, you couldn’t help but wonder how much of the night your thoughts would linger on Haechan.

“Impatient much?” you teased Karina as you slipped on your earrings.

“It’s been forever since it’s just been the two of us,” she said with a dramatic sigh. “I swear, I should sue Haechan for stealing you away from me.”

You laughed lightly, shaking your head. “No need to worry. Tomorrow’s the night he meets my family, and soon after, our ‘relationship’”—you emphasized with air quotes—“will officially be over. I get my peace, and they get to meet someone who isn’t you for once.”

Karina leaned against the doorframe, her sharp gaze raking over you like she was trying to read between the lines. “You’re not convincing me,” she said, raising a brow. “Do you think you can hide those marks? Please, you two are so deep in denial it’s almost painful to watch.”

Her words hit like a sucker punch, and you fumbled for a response. It had nothing to do with your best friend, but all with the fact that Haechan has been a bit distant today. You didn’t want to flood your thoughts with worry, but the intensity of your underlying feelings were too much to ignore. Instead of addressing the comment, you busied yourself with adjusting the strap on your heels, your eyes glued to the floor. “Like I said, it’ll be ending soon. Can we not talk about him right now?”

Karina frowned but didn’t push further, though her knowing expression didn’t go unnoticed.

Meanwhile, across town, Haechan sat on his couch, the glow of his phone illuminating his frustrated expression. He knew you were going out with Karina tonight—you’d told him—but something about it gnawed at him. He hadn’t responded to your last text, and even when he did, it took hours because every reply felt like walking a tightrope.

The thought of you at a club, surrounded by strangers, without him, it sent his mind spiraling. What if some guy tried something? Worse, what if you met someone—someone you actually liked—and decided to drop this whole fake relationship?

“Would that be cheating?” he muttered under his breath, running a hand through his hair. “Yes—no—shit.”

This wasn’t real. At least, that’s what he kept telling himself; every lingering glance, every stolen moment, and every kiss that left him breathless felt all too real. The weight of unspoken feelings hung between you both like a thread threatening to snap. He turned his phone off and on again, trying to distract himself, but the pull you had on him was intoxicating, inescapable.

Back at your apartment, Karina softened, rubbing your back in a gesture of comfort. “I’m sorry,” she said quietly. “It’s not my place to bring up your love life. Let’s just go have fun tonight, okay? Who knows, maybe we’ll both go home with someone new.��

Her attempt to lighten the mood made you smile despite yourself. “Yeah, let’s just have fun,” you echoed, grabbing your purse and heading for the door.

Even as you walked out with Karina, a small part of you wondered if Haechan was thinking about you as much as you were thinking about him.

Meanwhile, Haechan logged online with Jeno, hoping a few rounds of gaming would help clear his mind. However, playing with your brother, of all people, might not have been the smartest way to distract himself.

“So, are you nervous about tomorrow night?” Jeno asked as they waited for the game to load.

“Not really,” Haechan replied honestly. “I’ve met your parents before. They’re nice people.”

Jeno adjusted his mic. “Yeah, but you’ve met them as my friend. You’ve never met them as my sister’s boyfriend. Not to mention, it’s the first time she’s bringing someone home.”

Haechan shifted uncomfortably in his seat, the weight of Jeno’s words sinking in. The idea of meeting your parents in this new role suddenly felt a lot heavier than it had before.

He had pitched this whole fake dating idea to help you out, to make your life easier during a time when you needed it most. He’d told himself that was all it was. Deep down, he knew it wasn’t just that anymore. Somewhere along the way, the lies stopped feeling like lies.

The hand-holding wasn’t just for show. The playful teasing, the lingering touches, the way his chest tightened whenever you smiled at him—it had all become painfully real. With each passing day, the guilt of keeping this from Jeno gnawed at him more.

He thought back to one of the nights you’d slept over. You’d fallen asleep in his arms, your breathing soft and even, while he stayed awake, unable to tear his eyes away from you. His gaze had traced the curve of your cheek, the way your lashes fanned out against your skin. Without thinking, he’d leaned closer, pressing a ghost of a kiss to your hair.

This had become his new normal—holding you, being with you. Every time he thought about what came next, a deep ache settled in his chest. What if this all ended? What if he lost you?

“Hello? You good?” Jeno’s voice broke through his thoughts, dragging him back to the present.

“Yeah, my fault,” Haechan muttered, fumbling with his keyboard. “Um… yeah, I guess I am nervous— but you’ll be there too, so not much to worry about, right?”

“Exactly, bro,” Jeno said, his tone light. “You’ve got this. Now, focus up—I’m getting mobbed over here!”

Haechan managed a small laugh, though it didn’t reach his eyes. “On it,” he replied, diving into the game.

As the action picked up, his thoughts remained elsewhere. His grip tightened on the mouse, his chest heavy with the weight of his own emotions. This was going to be a long night.

Three shots in, and you were already feeling it. You’d never been one to hold your alcohol well. While you weren’t completely gone, you were definitely teetering on the edge of tipsy and drunk. The music thumped through the club, vibrating in your chest, and the dim lighting made it easy to lose yourself in the atmosphere.

“There’s my girl! Look at you having a good time!” Karina cheered, hyping you up as you squeezed the life out of a lemon wedge after your latest shot.

You coughed, shaking your head with a laugh. “I’m getting there, that’s for sure.”

Karina plopped down on the barstool beside you, resting her chin in her hand as she watched you with a fond expression. “Not to kill the buzz or anything, but do you think you’re ready to talk about what’s been weighing on you? I can tell you’ve got something on your chest, and you won’t fully let loose until you do.”

You hesitated, your eyes drifting to the crowd behind her. That’s when you spotted him—a man dressed clean and sharp, head to toe. His neatly parted black hair framed deep, unreadable eyes, and they were locked on you. Feeling a strange flutter of nerves, you quickly shook it off, turning back to Karina as you fidgeted with the rim of your shot glass.

“I guess it’s no secret that Haechan and I have been… kind of together? I don’t really know what to call it.” You sighed, glancing at her. “I mean, yeah, we’re supposed to be pretending, but lately, it’s felt a lot more serious. No matter how much we try to keep it casual, we just keep getting pulled toward each other— and sleeping together? That’s only made it worse.”

Karina’s brow arched slightly, but she stayed silent, letting you continue.

“I’m scared this is all Haechan wants,” you admitted, rubbing your temples. “What if I’m just something to pass the time? I’m too afraid to bring it up because if I’m wrong, and I read this all wrong… what then? What if I ruin everything, and he rejects me for real? That would be awkward as hell.”

Karina’s wide eyes softened, and she reached out to rub your back. “Wow. Yeah, that’s a lot to carry around. No wonder you’ve been so tense,” she said gently. “But listen, you’ve got to talk to him. Tell him exactly what you just told me. If it doesn’t work out, at least you’ll know you tried—and hey, this whole thing has already benefited you in some ways, right? Don’t feel guilty for walking away if that’s what you decide to do. You’re not actually together, so you don’t owe anyone anything. You can do what’s best for you.”

Her words brought some comfort, and you smiled at her, feeling a flicker of gratitude. Before you could respond, the bartender approached, placing a tall margarita with a cherry on top in front of you.

“A gentleman paid for your drink and the next few shots for you two,” he explained.

“What the hell…” Karina whispered, scanning the room with wide eyes.

Your gaze followed hers until it landed on the same man from earlier. He was making his way toward you now, a confident stride and a charming smile revealing deep dimples.

“Hello, ladies,” he greeted smoothly, his voice rich and warm.

“Well, hello, handsome,” Karina replied, nudging your leg under the bar as she batted her lashes.

His smile lingered, but his eyes moved to yours, the anticipation in them unmistakable. “I’m Jaehyun,” he introduced himself, “I just wanted to say you both look absolutely stunning tonight.”

“Thank you, Jaehyun! We appreciate that, don’t we?” Karina said, looking at you expectantly.

You hesitated before giving him your name, your voice quieter than you intended. His reaction caught you off guard—he took your hand and kissed it lightly. “Wonderful to meet you,” he said, his smile deepening. “I’ll let you get back to your conversation, but if you’d like to have a good time together, well—this is for you.”

As he walked off, Karina grabbed your arm. “Wow! Talk about dreamy! What did he give you?”

You unfolded the napkin he’d placed in your hand, already knowing what to expect. Inside was a neat scrawl: In case you need another shoulder to lean on ;) – J followed by his number.

You rolled your eyes. “Great. Just what I needed.”

Karina laughed, shaking her head. “If you’re not going to use it, you can pass it my way!”

“No way,” you said firmly. “I don’t need the reminder of this awkward interaction if you end up hooking up with him.” Stuffing the napkin into your purse, you resolved to toss it later.

“Fine, but that’s a major loss,” she teased. “How about this instead: we finish our free drinks, grab something sweet to eat, and call it a night?”

You smiled at her sincerity. “Sounds like a plan.”

The plan, however, turned out to be a little hazier than expected. Jaehyun had paid for more shots than you realized, and by the time you left the club, you and Karina were beyond tipsy, stumbling into an Uber together.

After dropping Karina off safely, you found yourself standing in front of Haechan’s building instead of your own. Buzzing his apartment repeatedly, you chuckled loudly into the intercom when his tired, slightly annoyed voice answered.

“May I ask who’s obliterating my buzzer at this hour?”

“It’s meeee!” you said through a fit of giggles.

There was a pause, and then the door buzzed open. Moments later, Haechan met you in the hallway, his arms crossed as he watched you nearly trip over your own feet.

“Someone had fun tonight, I see,” he teased, shaking his head as he walked over to steady you.

You clutched onto his shirt, looking up at him with glassy eyes. “Can’t have fun when I’m missing you so much,” you mumbled.

His teasing grin softened into something gentler, and he wrapped an arm around you, guiding you to his apartment. Once inside, he carefully sat you on the edge of his bed, rummaging through his drawers for some comfortable clothes for you to change into.

Haechan gently changed your clothes for you, his touch careful and deliberate. Using the makeup remover wipes you’d left at his place over the past few weeks, he softly cleaned your face, wary of being too rough as he worked around your features.

“Let me grab you some water, okay? Just get comfortable,” he said, tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear. You nodded sleepily, sinking into the pillows as he disappeared into the kitchen.

Your gaze wandered across the room, catching the faint glow from his gaming monitor. A small smile tugged at your lips as you pictured him sitting there, completely immersed in a match, his focused expression etched in your memory. You reached toward the side table, expecting to find your phone, only to remember it was still in your purse.

“Hyuckieeee!” you called, raising your voice as much as your drunk tired state allowed. “Can you bring me my phone, pleaseeee? It’s in my purse!”

“Yes, ma’am!” he replied, his voice light and playful.

In the kitchen, Haechan grabbed a glass of water before reaching for your purse. As he rummaged through it to find your phone, a folded napkin clung to the device, slipping free and floating to the floor. He bent to pick it up, expecting it to be nothing—but then his eyes caught the scrawled handwriting.

In case you need another shoulder to lean on ;) – J xxx-xxx-xxxx.

His playful smile vanished instantly. It was like the air had been sucked out of the room. For a moment, he stood frozen, blinking at the napkin as though he could force the words to change.

Who the hell was J? Why did you have his number? And why the hell did he feel like the ground beneath him was starting to crumble?

“Hyuccccck!” your voice whined from the other room, pulling him out of his spiraling thoughts.

His heart pounded as he shoved the napkin back into your purse, burying it as deep as he could. Grabbing your phone, he forced himself to compose his expression before walking back into the bedroom.

“Here,” he said, his voice a little too quiet as he handed you your phone and set the glass of water on the nightstand.

You barely noticed the change in his demeanor, already distracted as you unlocked your phone. Haechan, however, didn’t linger. He walked to his desk, muttered a quick goodnight to Jeno—completely ignoring whatever your brother was saying—and shut down his computer.

“W-Wait!” you called after him, frowning when you realized he was heading toward the door. “You’re not staying?”

He paused, his back to you. “You’ve had a long night, and tomorrow’s going to be even longer,” he said flatly, his voice devoid of its usual warmth. “You need sleep, and I can’t afford for you to get distracted.”

The coldness in his tone made you sit up slightly, confused. “Hyuck—”

“I’ll take the couch,” he interrupted, not turning around. “I’ll drive you home in the morning. Goodnight.”

Before you could respond, he flicked off the light and shut the door behind him.

You blinked at the closed door, baffled by his sudden shift. However, the exhaustion weighed heavy on your body, and soon enough, your head hit the pillow, pulling you into a deep, dreamless sleep.

Meanwhile, Haechan sat on the couch, your purse on the table in front of him like it was mocking him. His mind raced, replaying every moment of the night and every possibility of what that napkin could mean.

His jaw clenched as a wave of jealousy surged through him, mingling with something deeper—something more vulnerable. Was this all a game to you? A distraction? Did this J mean more to you than he did?

Haechan leaned back, staring at the ceiling with a heaviness in his chest he couldn’t shake. Tomorrow was supposed to be the big day—the day he met your parents—but now he wasn’t so sure he could go through with it.

The couch was uncomfortable, but that wasn’t the problem. You were just down the hall, sound asleep in his bed, yet Haechan couldn’t close his eyes for more than a few seconds before they snapped back open.

Your purse sat on the coffee table like it was taunting him, the folded napkin inside feeling heavier than it had any right to. He rubbed his hands over his face, letting out a frustrated sigh as he leaned back against the couch cushions.

It wasn’t real. That’s what he kept reminding himself. You weren’t really his girlfriend, so why did the idea of someone else trying to be with you twist something so raw inside of him?

He replayed the events of the night, the way you had stumbled into his arms at the door, laughing and clinging to him like he was your safe haven. The way you’d told him you missed him—it echoed in his head, warm and sweet, and he had wanted to believe it.

Then he’d seen the napkin.

In case you need another shoulder to lean on.

The words looped in his mind like a curse. He sat up, staring at the purse again, his jaw tightening. Who was this J? Why did you have his number?

You had been with Karina, sure, but what if this guy was someone you’d met at the club? What if he’d been the one to buy you drinks, to make you laugh, to look at you in a way that Haechan foolishly thought only he did?

His fists clenched at the thought, his nails digging into his palms as he tried to push the images out of his head. He had no right to feel this way, he told himself. You weren’t his. Not really.

The idea of you leaning on someone else, laughing with someone else, kissing someone else—it made his stomach churn.

The minutes turned to hours, and the city outside the window grew quieter, yet his mind stayed restless.

He thought back to the times you’d spent together recently. The way your eyes softened when you looked at him, the way your fingers would brush against his as if it were second nature. The quiet moments after the fake laughter, when it felt like everything between you wasn’t fake at all.

Could he have imagined it all? Were the feelings one-sided?

He threw himself back against the couch, running a hand through his hair in frustration. Maybe this was what he deserved. Maybe this was the fallout of blurring the lines, of letting his heart get tangled in something that was never supposed to be real.

Then he thought about tomorrow—or rather, tonight. Meeting your family as your boyfriend. Pretending to be yours in front of the people who mattered most to you. The thought had filled him with nerves before, but now it felt unbearable. How was he supposed to stand there, play the part, when he didn’t even know where he stood with you?

His eyes drifted back to the purse again. It was a small thing, insignificant in the grand scheme of things, yet it felt monumental. That napkin had shattered whatever fragile understanding he thought you shared, leaving him questioning everything.

As the first rays of sunlight began to creep through the window, Haechan sighed deeply, running a hand over his face. His body was heavy with exhaustion, but his mind refused to let him rest.

One thing was certain—if he didn’t get answers soon, he wasn’t sure how much longer he could keep pretending.

The faint scent of coffee and something savory woke you first. You blinked groggily, your head heavy and your body sluggish as you turned toward the nightstand. There, beside a glass of water, was a small bottle of Tylenol waiting for you.

The gesture brought a soft smile to your lips. Even after nights like this, he always took care of you.

Rubbing your temples, you sat up slowly, the ache in your head reminding you of last night’s drinks. The apartment was quiet, save for the faint clinking of dishes coming from the kitchen. Pushing yourself out of bed, you shuffled toward the source of the noise, following the smell of breakfast.

When you stepped into the kitchen, he was already there, leaning against the counter with a coffee mug in hand. A plate of scrambled eggs, toast, and bacon sat on the countertop, clearly made for you.

“Good morning,” you murmured, your voice scratchy from sleep as you pulled out a stool.

He barely glanced at you, taking a sip of his coffee before setting the mug down with a soft clink. “Eat up,” he said flatly, his tone devoid of its usual warmth. “You’re probably hungover.”

The coldness in his voice made you pause. You looked at him carefully, noting the stiffness in his posture, the way his eyes refused to meet yours.

“Thanks,” you said hesitantly, sitting down and picking at the food. You watched him from the corner of your eye, trying to gauge his mood.

When the silence stretched too long, you finally spoke. “Are you okay? You seem… off.”

“I’m fine,” he replied quickly, too quickly.

“You don’t seem fine,” you pressed, setting your fork down. “Did something happen last night?”

He let out a sharp breath through his nose, finally looking at you. His expression was guarded, but there was a flicker of something beneath it—hurt, frustration, something he wasn’t saying.

“I’ll start getting ready,” he said abruptly, brushing past your question. “You should eat and get some rest when you get home. We’ve got that big dinner tonight.”

You reached out instinctively, your fingers brushing against his arm to stop him, but he yanked it back before you could get a firm hold.

The motion was reflexive, but it felt like a slap. The shock of it lingered in the air between you, and you froze, your hand hanging in the space he’d just pulled away from.

“Did you just pull away from me…” your voice trailed off, your words caught somewhere between disbelief and hurt.

“I didn’t mean—” he started, his voice sharper than he intended. When he saw the look on your face, he cut himself off, turning away from you entirely.

“No, talk to me,” you said, standing now. The frustration bubbled up in your chest, and you didn’t care if your head was pounding or if your voice cracked. “What’s going on with you? You’ve been weird since last night. Did I do something?”

He clenched his fists at his sides, his shoulders rigid. “It’s nothing. Just drop it, okay?”

“Nothing?” you echoed incredulously, stepping closer. “You won’t look at me, you won’t talk to me, and now you’re pulling away like I did something wrong. If it’s nothing, then why are you acting like this?”

“Because I’m tired!” he snapped, spinning around to face you. His voice was sharp, the anger in his tone startling you; but beneath it, you heard the cracks, the weight of something deeper. “I’m tired, okay? Of this, of pretending, of…” He stopped himself, running a hand through his hair as if trying to physically push the words back down.

“Of what?” you pressed softly, your heart thudding in your chest.

His jaw clenched, his gaze dropping to the floor. “It doesn’t matter,” he muttered. “I just think you should go home, get some rest, and be ready for dinner tonight. That’s it.”

You stared at him, frustration and confusion swirling in your chest. He wouldn’t look at you, wouldn’t explain himself, and the distance he was putting between you felt suffocating.

“Fine,” you said quietly, the word laced with hurt. “If you want to push me away, then that’s on you.”

He didn’t respond, didn’t look up, didn’t move as you turned on your heel and headed back toward the bedroom to grab your remaining belongings. The door clicked shut behind you, and for a moment, all you could hear was the pounding in your head and the ache growing in your chest.

Whatever was going on, whatever he was holding back—it felt like it was slipping through your fingers, and you didn’t know how to stop it.

Meanwhile, he stood frozen in the kitchen, staring at the spot where you’d just been. His chest felt heavy, and the words he hadn’t said echoed in his mind, louder than anything else.

You stormed out of his room, grabbing your things with shaky hands, your chest tight with frustration and hurt. The air between you had been tense and suffocating, and you couldn’t stay another second in that apartment.

“Wait—” he called after you, his voice laced with urgency.

“I don’t need a ride home, and I don’t need a pity breakfast,” you snapped, your voice sharper than you intended as you reached the door. You turned back for a moment, your heart aching but your pride keeping you standing tall. “I’ll see you tonight, and then after that, whatever this is will be officially done.”

Before he could respond, you slammed the door shut behind you, the sound reverberating through the hallway.

The cold morning air hit your face as you made your way home on foot, each step heavy with unspoken emotions. The weight of everything pressed down on you, but you pushed through, your pace quickening as if moving faster would stop the thoughts from racing in your head.

When you finally reached your apartment, your hands were trembling as you unlocked the door. Once inside, the silence of your room felt deafening. You tossed your bag to the side and collapsed onto your bed, the weight of the morning and everything leading up to it crashing over you.

And then, it all came out.

Tears spilled down your cheeks, hot and relentless as you buried your face in your pillow. The ache in your chest felt unbearable, and no matter how much you tried to quiet yourself, the sobs broke free, filling the room.

The sound must have carried through the walls because moments later, a soft knock came at your door.

“Hey,” Jeno’s voice called through the wood, cautious and concerned. “Are you okay? Can I come in?”

You froze, your breath hitching as you quickly wiped at your face, trying to compose yourself. “I’m fine,” you croaked, but your shaky voice betrayed you.

“Please,” Jeno insisted, the worry in his tone clear. “Let me in.”

Reluctantly, you reached over and unlocked the door. Jeno pushed it open gently, stepping inside and closing it behind him. His eyes immediately found you on the bed, your tear-streaked face buried in your hands.

“Hey,” he said softly, walking over and sitting at the edge of your bed. “What’s going on? Why are you crying?”

You hesitated, your throat tightening as you tried to find the words. “I… I don’t know if we should even do the dinner tonight,” you admitted, your voice trembling.

Jeno frowned, tilting his head in confusion. “Why not? What happened?”

You swallowed hard, debating how much to tell him. For a moment, you considered brushing it off, but the weight of everything you’d been holding inside was too much.

“I—” you started, hesitating before letting out a shaky breath. “I need to tell you the truth about something.”

Jeno’s brows furrowed, his expression soft but cautious. “Okay… I’m listening.”

You sat up slowly, wrapping your arms around your knees. “Haechan and I… we’re not really dating,” you confessed, your voice barely above a whisper.

His eyes widened slightly, but he didn’t interrupt, letting you continue.

“We started fake dating because you and Mom and Dad wouldn’t get off my back about finding someone. I thought it would just be for a while, to take the pressure off, but…” Your voice cracked, and you rubbed at your face, frustrated with yourself.

“But what?” Jeno pressed gently.

“I fell for him,” you admitted, the words tumbling out before you could stop them. “I don’t know when it happened, but it’s not fake for me anymore. Now he’s barely talking to me, and I don’t know what I did wrong or what’s going on in his head. I feel like I ruined everything.”

Jeno stared at you for a moment, his expression unreadable. Then, he let out a sigh and reached over, pulling you into a hug.

“I’m sorry,” he said quietly, his voice full of genuine regret. “I didn’t realize how much pressure we were putting on you. I never meant to push you into something like this.”

You buried your face in his shoulder, the warmth of his embrace soothing some of the ache in your chest.

“I think you need to talk to him,” Jeno said after a moment, pulling back slightly to look at you. “You’re never going to get answers if you don’t. If he doesn’t feel the same way, that’s on him, not you. You were just trying to protect yourself, and there’s nothing wrong with that.”

“What if it makes things worse?” you asked, your voice small.

“Then we deal with it together—or not at all,” Jeno said firmly. “But you deserve to know the truth. Don’t let him leave you in the dark.”

You nodded slowly, the weight of his words sinking in.

“What about me moving out and finding someone? Isn’t that what you want? Isn’t that what Mom and Dad want? To push me out?” you scoff, the words spilling out as your mind flashes back to the way Haechan pushed you away earlier.

Jeno’s reaction is immediate, his tone sharp with hurt. “What are you talking about? You think that’s what this is about? That I want to kick you out?”

You can’t bring yourself to look at him. Instead, you nod slowly, wiping the tears off your cheeks with trembling hands.

Jeno starts to say something but stops, his chest rising and falling with a deep breath as he forces himself to calm down. When he speaks again, his voice is softer, steadier.

“I love you,” he says firmly, his words cutting through the silence. “You’re my sister, and you’re the only one I’ve got. It’s just you and me here, besides Mom and Dad back home. I don’t want you to leave. You’re my real best friend.”

The sincerity in his voice makes your chest tighten, and you blink back fresh tears as he continues.

“I just want to see you happy,” he says, his tone gentle now. “I want to see you live your life, not bury yourself in work or stress. You put so much pressure on yourself, and it kills me to see you overwhelmed all the time. I thought… maybe having someone close to you, someone new, might give you a sense of peace.”

He pauses, running a hand through his hair before sighing. “And listen, I know you said you and Haechan schemed this whole thing, but it’s obvious there’s something between you two. Anyone with eyes can see it.”

Your sobs come back harder, and Jeno instinctively moves closer, rubbing soothing circles on your back. His touch is warm, grounding, as his words wrap around you like a protective shield.

“I’ve always just wanted the best for you,” he says softly, leaning his head closer to yours. “I want you to be happy and healthy, and if that means staying here as long as you need, then stay. I don’t care how long it takes. I’ve got your back. I’m sorry I made you feel like you weren’t welcome. That was never my intention, and I hate that I made you feel this way. I don’t want to push you away.”

You collapse into his arms, burying your face in his shoulder as your sobs come freely. His embrace is strong, steady, as he holds you like he’s anchoring you to the ground. For once, in a while, you felt wanted by your own blood.

“Thank you, Jen,” you manage between cries. “For everything. I’m so sorry I lied to you. I love you.”

He pulls you closer, his chin resting on your head. “I love you too,” he says, his voice thick with emotion. “No more lying, okay? I’ve got your back, no matter what.”

For the first time in what feels like forever, the weight on your chest lifts just slightly, enough for you to breathe. You stay like that for a moment longer, letting yourself cry until the tears run out, until the warmth of your brother’s hug melts away the worst of your pain.

Jeno gave your shoulder a reassuring squeeze before standing. “Thank you for opening up to me. I’ll give you some space. Just let me know if you need anything, okay?”

As he left your room, you could hear him muttering something under his breath. A moment later, the sound of his voice carried through the apartment as he tried to get a hold of Haechan.

“Yeah?” Haechan answers after the third ring, his voice tense.

“Meet me in front of my building in ten minutes,” Jeno says, his tone tight as he tries to keep his anger in check.

“So, she told you?” Haechan asks, his voice low.

“Yeah,” Jeno replies curtly.

Haechan pulls the phone away from his mouth, letting out a desperate sigh as his eyes fix on the ceiling, silently pleading for something—anything—to save him from what’s coming. After a long pause, he exhales sharply. “Okay, I’m on my way.”

Jeno stood outside the complex building, the afternoon sun casting long shadows across the sidewalk. The air was crisp, but it didn’t stop the tension from coiling in his chest. His hands were shoved into his jacket pockets as he waited, replaying the conversation he’d had with his sister earlier.

Her tears, her shaky voice—everything about it had gutted him. Whatever had happened between her and Haechan, it needed to be resolved. Jeno wasn’t the kind of brother to let things like this slide, not when it was so obvious how much she was hurting.

Finally, he spotted Haechan approaching from a distance. The usual lightness in his step was gone, replaced by a slower, heavier gait. His hands were stuffed deep into the pockets of his hoodie, his head tilted down, as if he already knew what was coming.

When Haechan reached him, Jeno didn’t waste time. “Do you love her?”

The question hit like a punch, straightforward and impossible to dodge. Haechan froze for a moment, his eyes widening slightly before his gaze darted to the ground.

“Yes,” he admitted, his voice quiet but steady. “I do. I have for a while now.”

Jeno’s shoulders relaxed slightly, but his expression remained firm. “Then what the hell happened?”

Haechan let out a long breath, running a hand through his hair. “I… I don’t know, man. She came over last night after the club, and everything was fine until I found this note in her purse. It was from some guy—‘J’ or whatever—and it just… messed me up. I didn’t know what to think.”

Jeno frowned, his brows furrowing. “A note? From who?”

“I don’t know,” Haechan said, his voice rising slightly. “It was just some number and a message about being there for her. It made me think—what if I’m not enough? What if she’s keeping her options open?”

Jeno’s jaw tightened, his frustration bubbling. “So you let your jealousy get the better of you and pushed her away instead of talking to her?”

“I didn’t push her away,” Haechan argued weakly, though the guilt in his voice was evident. “I just… I didn’t know how to handle it.”

Jeno shook his head, exhaling sharply. “She loves you, Hyuck. She told me everything—how you two started this whole fake dating thing because of me and our parents. Only, it’s not fake for her anymore. She’s scared you don’t feel the same, and now she’s in her room crying because she thinks you don’t care.”

Haechan blinked, his breath catching. “She… she said that?”

“Yeah, she did,” Jeno said firmly. “And let me tell you something—you’re one of my best friends, Hyuck. You’re a good guy, but if you care about her, you need to prove it. You can’t keep shutting her out every time something scares you.”

Haechan swallowed hard, the weight of Jeno’s words sinking in.

“You’ve been a great friend to me,” Jeno continued, his voice softer now. “I know you’re the kind of person who would go to the ends of the earth for the people you care about. So if you really want to be with her, if you see a future with her, then you need to go upstairs, talk to her, and fix this. Don’t let one very stupid misunderstanding ruin everything.”

Haechan’s hands clenched at his sides, his heart racing as he processed everything.

“What if I screw it up again?” he asked quietly, his voice barely above a whisper.

Jeno placed a firm hand on his shoulder, his expression both serious and reassuring. “Then you keep trying. Relationships aren’t perfect, but they’re worth it when it’s real—and this? I can tell it’s real for both of you. So don’t waste any more time.”

Haechan nodded slowly, the resolve in his chest growing stronger. Without another word, he turned toward the building, his legs carrying him toward the confrontation he both dreaded and needed.

Jeno watched him go, letting out a deep sigh. For the first time all day, he felt a glimmer of hope that maybe—just maybe—things would turn out the way they were supposed to.

You had finally managed to calm yourself down after a long, warm shower and curling up under the covers of your bed. Yet, no matter how hard you tried, your mind kept replaying the events of the morning. Every sharp word, every look, every lingering feeling—it all circled in your head like a storm you couldn’t escape.

A sudden knock at your door interrupted your spiraling thoughts.

“Yeah?” you called out, assuming it was Jeno checking on you again. The door creaked open slowly, and when you looked up, it wasn’t Jeno.

Haechan stood there, hesitating in the doorway, his hand gripping the frame as if he needed it to steady himself.

“Hey… Can I come in?” he asked, his voice quieter than usual, almost cautious.

You swallowed hard, fighting back the tears that you’d fought so hard to push down. Fidgeting with your hands, you nodded. “Sure.”

He stepped inside, closing the door behind him gently, as though he was afraid of shattering the fragile air between you. He moved to the corner of your bed, sitting down hesitantly, his posture stiff and uncertain.

“I’m sorry,” he began, his voice tinged with guilt. “For the way I reacted this morning. I was upset, and I shouldn’t have taken it out on you. You gave me every chance to talk, and I just… didn’t.”

You stayed silent, watching him from the head of your bed, the weight of his words making your chest tighten.

“Truth is,” he continued, rubbing his hands together, “I found that napkin in your purse last night. You know, the one with the note.”

Suddenly, everything clicked.

“I got jealous,” he admitted, his voice breaking slightly. “At first, that’s all it was. However, the more I read it, the more frustrated I got—not because some other guy was interested in you, but because I realized it was more than that.”

He sighed, his hand running through his hair, tugging at the strands in a way you recognized as his tell when he was struggling to get the words out.

“I like you,” he said, his voice soft but firm. “A lot. I like you a lot more than like, actually.” He let out a small, nervous laugh, shaking his head as his eyes dropped to the floor.

“Ever since we met, I’ve liked you,” he confessed, his voice quieter now. “At first, I didn’t say anything because you’re Jeno’s sister. What kind of friend would I be if I got feelings for my best friend’s sister, right? Then, it turned into something so much more than that. You became my best friend, too. The first person I think about when I wake up, the last person I think about before I fall asleep, and the only person in my dreams. You’re everywhere in my head.”

Your breath hitched as his words sank in, tears spilling down your cheeks before you could stop them.

“I know,” he continued, his voice thick with emotion. “It was my idea to start all of this. At first, it was just pretending, but then it became real. For me, it became so real. And that note? That stupid, meaningless note? It wasn’t even about the guy—it was about me. I hated that a complete stranger had the courage to tell you how he felt when I couldn’t, even after everything we’ve shared. I let my pride and my fear get in the way, and I hurt you because of it. I’m so sorry.”

This time, he looked up, his eyes locking with yours. They weren’t cold like they had been this morning. They were warm, soft, familiar—filled with the Haechan you knew and cared for. Slowly, he reached out, his hand brushing against your cheek as he wiped away your tears.

“I’m truly sorry, love,” he said, his voice trembling slightly but full of conviction. “If you’ll let me, I don’t want to pretend anymore. I don’t want this to be fake. I want us—you and me—to be real. Please, let’s make this real.”

His words hung in the air, each one wrapping around your heart and tugging at it. You stared at him, your lips parting slightly as you tried to process the raw sincerity in his confession. The way his eyes bore into yours, the vulnerability etched across his face, it all broke down every last wall you’d built to keep your feelings hidden.

Slowly, your body moved on its own. You crawled across the bed, closing the small space between you and Haechan before throwing your arms around his shoulders. His warmth engulfed you as your head nestled against his neck, and for the first time all day, you allowed yourself to melt into him.

Haechan’s arms wrapped tightly around you, pulling you even closer as he let out a shaky breath. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, his lips brushing against your hair. “I’m so sorry. I’ll never do that to you again. I promise, I’ll never hurt you like that again.”

His voice cracked with emotion, the words tumbling out over and over as he held you. His hand ran soothingly along your back while the other cradled the back of your head.

You stayed like that for a moment, soaking in his warmth and the steady beat of his heart. When you finally pulled back, your hands remained on his shoulders, and you found yourself looking into his eyes—those deep, soulful eyes that were filled with nothing but regret and love.

“The note,” you started softly, your voice steady despite the lump in your throat. “It was from some random guy at the club. He handed it to me, and I shoved it in my purse so I could throw it out later. But… we got drunk, and I completely forgot it was even there.”

His expression shifted instantly, from shock to embarrassment, and finally to guilt. “So it really didn’t mean anything?” he asked, his voice almost timid.

You shook your head firmly. “Not a thing. I didn’t even remember it existed until just now.”

Haechan exhaled a deep breath, running a hand through his hair. “I’m an idiot,” he muttered, more to himself than to you. “I overthought everything, and I pushed you away when I should’ve just asked you.”

You gave him a small, tentative smile, your fingers absentmindedly smoothing over his shoulders. “You’re not an idiot,” you said gently. “You were scared, and honestly? So was I.”

His brows furrowed slightly, his gaze softening as he tilted his head in curiosity. “Scared?”

You nodded, your cheeks warming under his intense gaze. “Scared because… I like you, too. A lot. Maybe more than a lot.” You let out a nervous laugh, your hands dropping to your lap. “I think I’ve been trying so hard to convince myself that this was just pretend because I didn’t want to ruin anything between us. But the truth is, I don’t want to pretend anymore either. I want us to start over—for real this time.”

His eyes widened at your words, and for a moment, he just stared at you, completely still. Then, as if something clicked inside him, his expression changed. The regret and guilt melted away, replaced by something so raw, so full of love and passion that it took your breath away.

Haechan reached for your face, his hands cradling your cheeks as if you were the most delicate thing in the world. “You mean that?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper, his eyes searching yours.

You nodded, your smile trembling as tears welled in your eyes. “I mean it.”

That was all he needed. In an instant, he leaned in, capturing your lips with his in a kiss that was both passionate, real, and impossibly tender. His lips moved against yours with a reverence that made your heart ache, as if he were pouring every unspoken word, every hidden feeling, into that single moment.

Your hands found their way to his chest, clutching at his hoodie as you kissed him back, matching the intensity of his emotions. It was like the world had faded away, leaving just the two of you, tangled in each other and the overwhelming feelings you’d kept buried for so long.

When he finally pulled back, his forehead rested against yours, and his thumb brushed against your cheek, wiping away the tears you hadn’t even realized had fallen.

“I love you,” he whispered, his voice trembling with the weight of his confession.

Your breath hitched, and your lips curved into a smile as you looked into his eyes. “I love you, too,” you said, your voice steady and full of truth.

The smile that broke across his face was radiant, and he pulled you into his arms again, holding you like he never wanted to let go. For the first time, there was no doubt, no pretending—just the two of you, finally on the same page.

The evening had finally arrived, and the three of you—Jeno, Haechan, and yourself—stood outside your parents' house. The warm glow of the porch light illuminated the path, casting a comforting hue that did little to calm the nerves buzzing in your chest. Haechan stood beside you, his hand brushing against yours, and when you glanced at him, he gave you a small smile, his own nerves barely hidden beneath his confident exterior.

“You guys ready?” Jeno asked, breaking the silence.

You nodded, inhaling deeply as you stepped forward.

When the door opened, the familiar warmth of your parents' home enveloped you. Your mom greeted you with a tight hug, her smile as radiant as ever. Your dad stood just behind her, his eyes lighting up as he welcomed all of you inside.

“Come in, come in! It’s been too long,” your mom said, ushering everyone inside.

As you stepped into the living room, Haechan gave your parents a polite bow, his usual charm already working its magic. “Thank you for having us tonight,” he said, his voice steady but tinged with warmth.

“Of course, Haechan,” your mom replied, smiling at him. “It’s nice to finally have you here as more than just Jeno’s friend.”

Your dad raised an eyebrow, a curious look passing over his face. “Oh? What’s that supposed to mean?”

This was it. You glanced at Haechan, and he gave you a reassuring nod, his hand discreetly finding yours. Together, you both stepped forward, standing side by side in front of your parents.

“Well,” you began, your voice steady despite the butterflies in your stomach. “We wanted to let you know that Donghyuck and I… we’re together now. Officially. He’s my boyfriend.”

Haechan’s smile widened as he looked at your parents, his voice filled with pride and sincerity as he added, “It’s true. I care about your daughter a lot, and I promise to always treat her with the love and respect she deserves.”

Your parents exchanged a quick glance, their expressions softening.

“Well,” your dad said after a moment, his voice warm, “if our daughter is happy, that’s all that matters to us.”

Your mom’s smile was beaming now as she stepped forward, squeezing you into a hug first before turning to Haechan. “Welcome to the family,” she said, patting his shoulder affectionately.

Behind you, Jeno let out a low whistle, crossing his arms as a smug grin spread across his face. “I told you they’d approve,” he said, clearly enjoying the moment.

You shot him a playful glare, but the warmth in his expression softened your teasing.

As the night unfolded, the five of you gathered around the dining table, the smell of your mom’s cooking filling the air. The conversation flowed easily, laughter punctuating the clinking of silverware. Haechan charmed your parents effortlessly, sharing stories of how you two had grown closer and subtly leaving out the “fake dating” part of your history.

Jeno leaned back in his chair, watching the scene with a satisfied look. His best friend and his sister were happy, his parents were smiling, and for once, everything felt exactly as it should be.

Your dad clapped Haechan on the back after dinner, laughing at one of his jokes. “You’re alright, kid,” he said. “Take care of my daughter, okay?”

“Always,” Haechan replied, his voice full of conviction.

By the time dessert was served, you felt a weight lifting from your chest. Sitting beside Haechan, with his hand resting comfortably on your knee under the table, you realized this was the first time you’d truly felt free. No more hiding, no more stress, no more pretending—just you and him, together, surrounded by the people you loved.

As the night wound down and your mom started clearing plates, Haechan leaned over to you, his voice low enough for only you to hear. “I can’t believe this is real.”

You turned to him, your smile soft. “It is, we don’t have to hide anymore.”

He grinned, leaning in to press a gentle kiss to your temple. “I love you,” he whispered.

“I love you too,” you replied, feeling the words settle warmly in your chest. Finally, you weren’t scared to say it.

As you glanced around the table, seeing the joy on your parents’ faces and Jeno’s approving nod, you knew this was the start of something beautiful. A life where you and Haechan could love each other openly, honestly, and fully—just as it was always meant to be.

BONUS

Months had passed since that dinner with your parents, and your relationship with Haechan had only grown stronger. Gone were the days of pretending and sneaking around. Now, you could openly love each other, and you savored every moment of it. Tonight was no exception.

The neon lights of the club bathed the group in a kaleidoscope of colors. Music thumped through the air, and laughter echoed as you, Haechan, Jeno, Karina, Mark, and Chenle occupied one of the larger booths. Drinks lined the table, and everyone was in high spirits, swaying to the rhythm of the music or yelling jokes over the pounding bass.

“Here,” Haechan said, sliding a glass across the table to you. “One for the prettiest girl in the room.”

You rolled your eyes playfully, taking the drink. “You’re shameless.”

“You love it,” he teased, leaning in to steal a quick kiss before anyone could interrupt.

“Hey!” Karina exclaimed, pointing her straw at the two of you. “We agreed to keep the PDA to a minimum tonight!”

Haechan shrugged, throwing an arm around your shoulders as he smirked. “What can I say? I can’t help myself.”

You nudged him, trying to suppress a laugh as Jeno and Chenle made exaggerated gagging sounds.

“Alright, lovebirds,” Mark said, grinning as he tipped his drink toward you both. “At least try to make it through one night without making the rest of us single people feel bad.”

“Who’s single?” Karina piped up, earning a round of laughter from everyone at the table.

As the night went on, the group gradually dispersed onto the dance floor. Haechan stayed by your side, his hand never leaving yours. You danced with him among your friends, his playful energy infectious as he twirled you under the flashing lights.

At one point, you found yourselves back at the bar, catching your breath and sipping on water.

“You know,” Haechan said, his tone suddenly lowered as he leaned closer, “you look absolutely stunning tonight.”

Your cheeks warmed under his gaze. “You’ve told me that about three times already.”

“I’ll say it a hundred more times if I want to,” he replied, his eyes glinting with mischief.

You tilted your head, narrowing your eyes at him. “Careful, Donghyuck. You’re laying it on a little thick.”

He grinned, leaning in so his lips brushed your ear. “If you think this is thick, wait till I get you alone.”

Your heart skipped a beat, and you pushed him lightly, trying to hide the flush on your cheeks. “You’re impossible.”

“You’re irresistible,” he quipped, finishing his drink and setting the glass down. “Come on.”

“Where?” you asked, watching as he grabbed your hand and started leading you away from the bar.

“Somewhere we can actually hear each other,” he said with a wink, weaving the two of you through the crowd.

It didn’t take long before you found yourselves in one of the quieter private rooms tucked away in the back of the club. The walls muffled the music just enough, creating a more intimate atmosphere. A small couch and a dim overhead light added to the cozy vibe.

Haechan shut the door behind you, turning to face you with a smirk that sent butterflies fluttering in your stomach. “Now this,” he said, stepping closer, “is more like it.”

You laughed, backing up until your legs hit the couch. “So, what’s your plan now that you’ve dragged me back here?”

He didn’t answer right away. Instead, he pulled you into his arms, swaying gently to the faint rhythm of the music that still seeped through the walls. His hands rested on your waist as he leaned his forehead against yours.

“Dance with me,” he whispered, his voice soft.

Your breath caught in your throat, but you smiled, wrapping your arms around his neck. The two of you moved slowly, completely lost in your own little world.

As the song in the distance changed to something slower, Haechan tilted your chin up, his eyes locking with yours. “You know,” he said, his voice barely audible, “I think this is my favorite place to be—with you.”

Your chest tightened at the sincerity in his words. “Hyuck…”

Before you could say anything else, he closed the gap between you, his lips capturing yours in a kiss that was both tender and electric. His hands tightened on your waist, pulling you closer as the kiss deepened, leaving you breathless.

The world outside faded entirely, leaving only the two of you wrapped up in each other. His fingers traced gentle patterns along your back, and when he pulled away just enough to whisper, “I love you,” his voice was steady and sure.

Your heart swelled, and you cupped his face, your thumbs brushing against his cheeks as you whispered back, “I love you too.”

Haechan grinned, his eyes lighting up with pure joy before he kissed you again, his movements more urgent but still filled with the same passion.

Getting lost in not only the kiss but in his touch you find yourself breathing heavier the closer his lips moved down your neck.

"W-What are you doing?" you asked, a low chuckle escaping your lips despite the tension in the air.

"My girlfriend," he murmured between kisses, his voice low and filled with desire. In that moment, the world beyond the locked door ceased to exist.

With skilled hands, he slipped the straps of your dress off your shoulders, letting them hang low and exposing your already hardened nipples. His eyes raked over you, taking in every detail as though he couldn't believe you were real.

"I'll never get tired of this," he whispered, his voice dripping with awe as his mouth latched onto your left breast, his tongue swirling against your sensitive skin.

A loud moan escaped you, echoing faintly in the private room, but the thundering bass of the music outside was loud enough to drown it out.

"Get loud for me, baby," he urged, his voice teasing and commanding all at once. "I wanna hear how beautiful you sound for me."

His hands slid to your back as he unzipped your dress, letting it pool around your ankles. Without hesitation, he positioned you on the sofa, one of your legs resting over his shoulder as his dark eyes zeroed in on your glistening core.

"Barely did anything, and you're already begging for me," he teased, slipping two fingers inside you with ease, the smirk on his lips widening when your sharp gasp filled the air.

"Haechan... please," you pleaded, your hands gripping the fabric of the couch as your body trembled beneath his touch.

"I'm not done, babe," he murmured, his fingers curling inside you, expertly hitting that sweet spot that made your back arch.

His tongue flicked out, meeting your needy clit as he lavished every inch of you with attention, his lips and tongue working in perfect harmony.

Your moans grew louder, your hips bucking against his mouth as your hands tangled in his hair. He groaned into you, the vibrations driving you wild as he watched you lose control, grinding yourself against him with abandon.

Haechan's free hand wandered to his hardened bulge, brushing over his strained cock that twitched with every sound you made. He bit back a growl, desperate to feel you fully but savoring every moment of your unraveling.

When your release finally washed over you, your scream of his name echoed in the room. Your body shuddered as your juices dripped down his chin, his tongue greedily lapping at everything you gave him.

As you lay there, trying to catch your breath, Haechan rose to his feet, unfastening his belt with swift hands and tugging his pants down to his ankles.

Your eyes widened at the sight of him, your lips parting in awe as you noticed his hard cock, his tip red and aggravated with precum.

He leaned down, lifting your legs to wrap around his waist before gripping your hair gently but firmly. His dark, hungry eyes bore into yours as he spoke, his voice dripping with authority. "You're going to take me right here, right now. I don't want you holding back those pretty moans of yours. Got it?"

You nodded quickly, barely able to speak before he lined himself up and thrust into you with a deep, powerful motion. A low growl escaped his lips as he buried himself to the hilt, his face buried in the crook of your neck.

"So fucking tight for me," he groaned, his voice rough in your ear. "Always so tight."

His pace started slow but deliberate, each thrust pulling moans from you that sent heat coursing through your entire body. His eyes locked onto yours as he noticed the outline of his protruding length against your stomach.

Grinning, he grabbed your hands and pressed them to it.

"You feel that, baby?" he said, his voice husky. "Soon, I'll fill you up right there. Is that what you want?"

Your sweat-slicked skin glistened as you bit your lip, nodding feverishly. "Yes! Please, Donghyuck, I want you to fill me up with every drop!"

His thrusts quickened, each one deeper and more relentless as his free hand trailed up to cup your throat. "That's my girl," he praised, his voice thick with desire as he watched you fall apart beneath him.

When your walls began to flutter and clench around him, his groan turned into a deep growl. "Donghyuck!" you cried out, your nails digging into his back as your release crashed over you.

He wasn't far behind. His hips stuttered as his grip tightened, his eyes rolling back as he spilled himself inside you, his body trembling with the force of his climax. Even as he came, he rocked his hips, ensuring every last part of him stayed buried deep within you.

For a moment, the room was silent except for the sounds of your labored breathing.

Haechan's forehead rested against yours as his hand moved to brush damp strands of hair from your face.

"Round two at my place?" he asked, a mischievous smile tugging at his lips.

Your laugh echoed softly as you cupped his face, your gaze filled with warmth. "Only if we manage to sneak away without getting caught."

"Say less." He grinned, standing to pull his pants back on before helping you dress. His hands lingered a little too long on your hips, his touch still filled with the passion of the moment.

Hand in hand, the two of you slipped out of the private room, sharing whispered laughs and conspiratorial smiles as you made your way through the club and out into the cool night air.

You felt completely free, the chaos of the night left behind as you escaped into a world where it was just you and him. Together, you'd already won a lifetime of love

‧˚⭒ taglist: @jaeminnanaaa17 @scoobysnackszoo @1800-jigglemywiggle @karmasbestie @cathamada @yoursyuno @oneeew @serenedreamscape @moryymor @yesohhsehun @dnihyuck @doyotint @kodasity @rainverry

[orphicmusings]

this is so self indulgent but i love the idea of modern!viktor with reader who is more artistic/humanities inclined rather than stem…museum dates are a staple, obviously, whether they’re art or history, you walk hand in hand and sit on the little benches when you need a break and talk about your favorite parts (he loves seeing artifacts and antiques!!!) and he loves that he gets to hear you gush about each subject you come across and watch your eyes flicker with absolute light as you learn more and more, the passion for it being the best thing the two of you share other than your love for each other.

and then he’ll take you to one of those science discovery places, and he loves to freak you out with gnarly facts and will spend an hour in the planetarium with you if they let you, mapping out the constellations in the dim light in your own little journals, pretending you’re ancient astrologers. one time, on a particularly slow day, due to the relaxing music and general ambience, you both had fallen asleep in there— your head on his shoulder, his head on top of yours, and a staff member found you about a half hour before closing.

spoiling your partner with fine things such as designer clothes and jewelry is great, and he would if you wanted it, but to him? the most fun he’ll ever have spoiling you is watching you go absolutely ham in a bookstore. following behind you through the shelves with a basket to collect your pile, and you making sure you’re picking out a few you can read together (you reading aloud to him to get his mind to quiet down enough for him for fall asleep—he loves jane austen). seeing you geek out over limited edition covers of classics, dracula, frankenstein (which you affectionately call him, viktor frankenstein, when he is particularly too stubborn to leave his lab), greek myths, shakespeare, even if you already have a copy, he’ll buy you this one simply because it looks better on your joint bookshelf.

and if you ever doubt your intelligence in comparison to his? after trying to figure out something mathematical and handing it to him and him getting it done within seconds? even muttering a “right, sorry, i’m stupid” as a kneejerk reaction to existing in a lifetime of academic settings where stem is prioritized as The Smart People Subject and the humanities are only there as frivolous endeavors— will earn you the most disappointed look. “do not talk about yourself like that, my darling. i mean it.” he tells you firmly, getting more annoyed at you putting yourself down than he ever would with you asking him for help. oh, and if you were feeling particularly self deprecating and decided to go back at him?

god have mercy on you as he has you reading and retaining information from dense texts to him as he’s buried between your thighs, just to prove you can do what he couldn’t.

“mhm, and what have we learned?”

“that…” you caught your breath. “orpheus actually proved he loved eurydice by-“

“no.” he chided gently with a breathy smirk of his own. “that my love is entirely capable, and skilled, the most clever little darling i know…yes?”

you can’t stop the bashful smile that pulls at your lips and the heat that dusts your cheeks when you answer in affirmation.

[floraleevee]

Caveats/notes:

Many growers have reported success with “ZeroWater” filters. Not recommended if you have a lot of plants, as you’ll burn through filters quickly (but if you do, you probably already know all this). Additionally, ZeroWater filters have a tendency to FLOOD your water with nutrients when the filter is old (like, higher TDS than normal tap water). So highly recommended to have a TDS meter to make sure it’s still good. Tbh I’d just get distilled at the store, but some growers prefer this option 🤷

There are cheap RO systems that hook up to sinks. I’ve used an RO Buddy for over 5 years without having to replace any of the filters. Since I used to have hundreds of carnivorous plants for the majority of that time, that’s pretty dang good. I think I was going through ~10 gallons a week during my peak years, though am down to 4 gallons a week now. iirc it cost about $60. I don’t use the optional 4th filter, as it’s unnecessary and is so fine that the flow rate is reportedly abysmal. I will say the RO Buddy is fairly slow when using a sink - I get about 1 gallon every 15 minutes. The RO buddy generally can hook up to kitchen sinks in the US just fine, but idk about outside the US. Additionally, I’ve found it doesn’t work on bathroom sinks. You can get a cheap adapter at a hardware store for like $5, though, and then can use your bathroom.

Deionized water is good too. Most people probably don’t have access to it, which is why I’m guessing bogleech didn’t mention it. But if you work in a lab you may have access to deionized water.

Some people collect the condensation from their a/c units. Don’t ask me how, I don’t know.

Be careful with rainwater. Some roofs are treated with chemicals that over time begin to leach out. Nothing too terribly harmful for the native plants around your house, but can reportedly kill carnivorous plants.

I just want to reiterate bogleech: Not all wetlands are equal! Even if you do have a bog nearby, I highly recommend not using that water. For one, bogs are extremely sensitive and it’s generally recommended you don’t step in one if you can avoid it. I’ve done conservation research in bogs and had to submit my plans to the land manager, who came back to me and said “you’re permitted to access this small portion of the bog. That’s all I’m willing to sacrifice for research”. Because, yeah, they are THAT sensitive. Also, there are gonna be potential pathogens in the water that you don’t want on your plants.

You actually can get away with tap temporarily. If the options are “let my plants dry up and die of thirst” or “water with tap water”, give them tap. As soon as possible, flush their pots/soil with DI/RO water. If your plants are in trays/nested pots, don’t let the water collect in them when flushing. Growth will likely be stunted for several weeks/months as the plants work to regrow their damaged roots, but stunted growth is better than dead. This is highly variable between taxa, with at least one study showing Sarracenia having some of the most resilient roots (though anecdotally I’ve heard Nepenthes hold up fairly well as well).

Related to the last point: some people live in areas with really low TDS tap water. Generally, this seems to be from people that use well water rather than city water. Again, TDS meters (total dissolved solids meters) are a handy tool. The lower the TDS the better, with consensus being that ~50 ppm* is the upper limit (again, anecdotes from growers report Nepenthes can actually handle a bit higher, but those are circumstantial and I wouldn’t risk it) * it might actually be parts per thousand. My TDS meter is already set to the units I need, so I don’t remember which. Sorry 😅

I highly, HIGHLY recommend anyone looking to grow carnivorous plants read The Savage Garden by Peter D’Amato. There’s a good chance you’re going to mess something else up with your plant(s). Carnivorous plants are extremely sensitive to other factors, such as soil type and (in the event of pathogens) fungicides/pesticides/miticides. Most want more sun than you think they do. Peter’s book is incredibly well detailed and organized, so you can easily find whatever info you need. I’ve also found most libraries carry it both physically and digitally, and both types of copies are generally not checked out.

Every day in carnivorous plant groups someone asks why their carnivorous plant died and reveals that they used pond water, or filtered tap water, or mountain spring water.

Carnivorous plants cannot adapt to anything but water with the properties of fresh condensation. This is ABSOLUTELY INFLEXIBLE, there is no wiggle room, you cannot get away with giving them the wrong water, not temporarily, not even once!

The only sources for this water are:

Bottled water with "distilled" on the front label, and no other different wording, no "purified" or "spring!"

Water from a reverse osmosis filter. Not a brita filter or any other filter! A reverse osmosis filter is a large expensive system, so no filter you just plug onto your tap will count.

Fresh rainwater that has not touched soil, ie collected in a plastic tub.

Water from a natural bog, which is a very specific type of wetland and very rare in most of the world!

[sun-kissy]

helloo!! I absolutely LOVEEE everything you´ve written, everything you do, may I request a Remus x fem!reader where the reader has shaky hands all the time and remus has to help and comfort her? it’s not that good of an idea but I’d like to read something like that ahah😭

hi angel! thank you for your patience 😭😭😭 and the request! here you go <3

sweetness | r.l.

remus lupin x reader

cw: reader has shaky hands, reader is a bit frustrated at the start

“Hey, sweetheart.” You feel the pressure of a warm hand between your shoulder blades, gently rubbing at the tense spot. “You okay?”

You grunt begrudgingly in response and lift your head slightly from between your hands to frown at Remus. “I’m fine. Just, I — I can’t chop these,“ you inhale shakily, straightening up. “My hands are just —“

“Hey,” he murmurs, coasting his hands across your back to squeeze your shoulders.

Remus is used to this, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t worry about you. “It’s okay; you’re okay. Take a deep breath.”

His lips tilt upwards bemusedly when you roll your eyes, taking exaggeratedly deep breaths in an attempt to mock him.

It actually helps — you feel the frustration clogging up your throat ebb away. Your heartbeat doesn’t sound so loud anymore.

“Better?” he murmurs after a few moments, thumb gently rubbing a line up and down the nape of your neck.

You exhale quietly, nodding your thanks. “Yeah, sorry. My hands are just… being difficult again,” you mutter, glaring down at your trembling fingers. “I was making brownies, I wanted to surprise you.”

“Hm,” Remus glances down at the bar of chocolate on the chopping board. “For me, huh?”

You nod defeatedly. The sympathy in his heart seems to be pressing against his ribs. He smiles softly, dotting a grateful kiss to your cheek.

“What about,“ he gently manoeuvres you aside, “I do this part?”

You frown. “But then it’s not a surprise anymore.”

Remus gives you an indulgent smile and takes your hands, giving them a squeeze. “It’s a surprise that you wanted to bake me brownies, whether or not you got through to the end, lovely girl.”

“Now,” he presses his lips to your knuckles, “it’s a surprise and a time for us to bond. What could be better than that?”

You give Remus a small, appeased smile. He grins at the sight of it, pressing another messy kiss to your temple before letting go. “Why don’t you get started on the wet ingredients?”

“Okay. But I get to mix it all up later.”

He sighs exasperatedly, though the underlying fondness is obvious. “Yes, yes you do.”

[kathlare]

taste

Lando Norris x Amelie Dayman

Summary: Amelie navigates a moment of frustration after stumbling upon online gossip about her ex, Lando, and his rumored new romance.

Wordcount: 1.5 k

Warnings: none

full masterlist // request over here!

August 19th, 2023 - New York City, NY

liked by f1gossipgirl, wags_f1, and others

landoupdates: Lando spotted living it up in Ibiza with Portuguese model Magui Corceiro during summer break! 🌴🍹👀.

View all 483 comments

amelie4ever: Y’all, bring back the Amelie and Lando era. This ain’t it. → lando_obsessed: @amelie4ever Fr, we traded peak wholesome vibes for this Ibiza nonsense 💔 → lanmelie_sunshine: @amelie4ever Can’t believe he fumbled the literal QUEEN for... this.

f1tea_spill: Okay but are we sure this isn’t just a PR stunt? 👀 → gridgossip88: @f1tea_spill PR or not, I’m TIRED of this man acting like a walking red flag 🚩

magui_not_it: I’m sorry but MAGUI?! Out of all the people?? Lando, sweetie, no.

wicked4amelie: Y’all, remember when he used to simp HARD for Amelie on streams? I miss THAT Lando. → landoluvr88: @wicked4amelie The "Lanelie compilations" era hits harder now. 😭

mclarenmeltdown: I SWEAR if he’s actually dating Magui, I’m uninstalling this app. → lando_fanatic: @mclarenmeltdown Nah, sis, we’re ALL about to block him at this point.

amelie_supremacy: Can’t believe I used to root for this man. Amelie deserves SO much better.

f1teaqueen: NOT MAGUI AGAIN 😭😭 Lando really said "let me ruin my reputation this summer" 💀

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

The New York heat pressed against the windows of the rented studio, the kind that made the air feel heavy, like a humid blanket. Amelie sat cross-legged on the couch, her phone clutched in one hand, her jaw clenched as she scrolled through Instagram. The post had popped up out of nowhere, another notification from a gossip page she’d never followed but whose posts always managed to find her.

“Lando spotted living it up in Ibiza with Portuguese model Magui Corceiro during summer break!”

The caption was enough to send her stomach into knots, but the photo was what did her in. Lando sat in a club booth, his signature grin faintly visible as he leaned over to chat with someone she couldn’t make out. Magui, meanwhile, sat close beside him, her legs crossed and her phone in her hand. She looked effortlessly beautiful, like she knew the cameras were there.

Amelie tossed her phone onto the cushion beside her, leaning back with a frustrated groan. It wasn’t jealousy, not exactly. She was long past hoping for some grand romantic reunion with Lando, not after how they’d ended things and the fights that followed. But Magui? That was a name that still burned.

Rozzi walked in, carrying two iced coffees and a bag of pastries, her eyes immediately landing on Amelie’s face. —Oh no,— she said, setting everything down on the small studio table. —What happened? Who pissed you off?—

Amelie gestured toward her phone without a word. Rozzi picked it up, her eyebrows knitting together as she read the caption. —Ibiza, huh? Well, that’s a choice.—

—Right?— Amelie said, exasperated. —It’s not even about him being with someone... it’s her. She’s... God, she’s so fake, Roz. And the fact that she’s still hanging around after all the shit she pulled, ugh.—

Rozzi handed her an iced coffee, sitting down beside her. —Okay, so what are you gonna do about it? Besides glaring at your phone like it personally insulted you.—

Amelie took a sip, the coldness of the drink cutting through the heat in her chest. —I’m not doing anything about it. It’s not worth it.—

Rozzi gave her a pointed look. —You’re lying. I know that look. That’s your ‘I’m gonna channel this into something destructive but artistic’ face.—

Amelie smirked despite herself. Rozzi knew her too well. —Fine. Maybe I’ll write something. I mean, I’m here, right? Might as well use it.—

Rozzi grinned, reaching over to grab her acoustic guitar, which had been resting in the corner. —That’s what I like to hear. Let’s make this a masterpiece of pettiness. You wanna start with the hook or just rant your way through it first?—

Before Amelie could answer, Amy walked into the studio, her energy filling the room like a breath of fresh air. —What’s the vibe today? Drama? Sad girl anthem? Revenge banger?—

Amelie and Rozzi exchanged a look, then burst into laughter. —Revenge banger, definitely,— Rozzi said, tossing the phone to Amy. —Here, this is today’s inspiration.—

Amy glanced at the post, her eyebrows raising slightly before she handed the phone back. —Oh, this one’s gonna be fun. Alright, Amelie, where’s your head at?—

Amelie stood up, pacing the length of the small studio as she spoke, her voice steady but laced with underlying irritation. —I just... it’s not even about him. It’s about the audacity. She had the nerve to DM me when they were together, saying all this bullshit about how I was trying to steal him or that I couldn’t let go of him. And now, here she is, acting like she’s some perfect accessory to his life. It’s laughable.—

Amy nodded thoughtfully, her fingers already fiddling with the keyboard in the corner. —Okay, so we want something sharp. Taunting, maybe? Like, a ‘you’re in my shadow, and you’ll never be me’ kind of vibe?—

—Exactly,— Amelie said, her eyes lighting up. —I don’t want it to sound bitter, though. It needs to feel confident. Like, yeah, I know you hate me because I’ll always be in the picture, whether you like it or not.—

Rozzi strummed a few chords, the melody playful yet cutting. —How about something like this? It’s got that cocky energy but leaves room for the lyrics to really hit.—

Amelie nodded, humming along until a phrase popped into her head. —"Oh, I leave quite an impression, five feet to be exact..."— She paused, turning to Rozzi. —What do you think? It’s like, yeah, I’m small, but I’m unforgettable.—

—Love it,— Amy said, jotting it down. —What’s next? Something about how he can’t shake you, no matter what?—

Amelie smiled wickedly, her mind already racing. —"You’re wonderin’ why half his clothes went missin’, my body’s where they’re at."— She laughed as the words spilled out. —Petty enough?—

Rozzi’s jaw dropped. —That’s gold. Keep going.—

The next hour flew by, the three of them bouncing ideas off each other like they were in perfect sync. Amelie’s emotions poured out into every line, her frustration giving way to amusement as the song began to take shape. They leaned into the taunts, crafting a narrative that was unapologetically bold and dripping with confidence.

Amy played around with the track’s beat, layering in a sultry bassline that matched the teasing tone of the lyrics. —This is gonna be dangerous,— she said, grinning. —The kind of song you scream in the car with your friends.—

Amelie took the mic, testing out the melody with a smirk on her face. —"I heard you’re back together, and if that’s true, you’ll just have to taste me when he’s kissin’ you..."—

Rozzi whooped, throwing her head back in laughter. —Oh, she’s gonna hate this. And it’s perfect.—

As the song came together, Amelie found herself letting go of the tension she’d been carrying. By the time they reached the bridge, she was fully leaning into the catharsis of it all. —"Every time you close your eyes and feel his lips, you’re feelin’ mine. And every time you breathe his air, just know I was already there."—

Amy looked up from the console, shaking her head in admiration. —You’re savage, Am. This might be one of my favorites.—

They wrapped up the recording late that evening, the final version of Taste feeling like a triumph. Amelie leaned back in her chair, her body buzzing with the rush of creation.

Rozzi nudged her shoulder. —Feel better?—

Amelie shrugged, but her smile gave her away. —A little. It’s not like it changes anything, but... yeah. It feels good to take something shitty and turn it into something that’s mine.—

Amy grinned. —Well, whatever it is, this song is gonna light a fire under someone’s ass. And that’s the best kind of art.—

As they packed up for the night, Amelie glanced at her phone one last time. The gossip page was still there, but the knot in her stomach was gone. She smiled to herself, knowing that while the world might be watching him, soon they’d be hearing her.

[greyeyedmonster-18]

Five Times Sirius Black Fucked James Potter and One Time He Didn't

(in a slytherin!sirius au...part 3/5. read parts one, and two here)

-

James could hear his mother's voice in his head telling him to stop fidgeting as he continued to adjust the shoulders of his new Healer’s robes. Allegedly, this was how they were supposed to fit, the typical loose sleeves of other robes an occupational hazard. Apparently. As he waited in front of the double doors past the reception of St. Mungos, he was already counting the days until he was no longer a trainee and respected enough to show up to St. Mungo’s in robes far more comfortable.

But as it was, today was a special occasion at St. Mungo’s, the entire hospital buzzing around him, in preparation for the arrival of a donor--investor?--someone who wanted to sign over too much money St. Mungo’s to support the development of a children's ward. Most of the trainees were given the sage orders to stay out of the way and not do anything stupid. One of James’s colleagues was actually given the day off in lieu of coming it at all, to avoid any major catastrophes, everyone eager and anxious to impress. 

Except James.

Not you, Potter. People like you. You have that kind of face that people like. And James was given two orders from his supervisor in preparation for greeting the donor at the entrance of the hospital: 1) look presentable and 2) be charming. 

Both of which would’ve been a lot easier to do if he hadn’t felt like he was crammed into his robes like stuffed sausage, and if the mysterious donor wasn’t already ten minutes late. Nearly fifteen. He sighed, glancing up at the clock on the wall for the hundredth time.

“Did I miss them, Grace?” he asked the receptionist witch, leaving his position behind the desk to stand in front of it.

“Who, Mr. Potter?”

“I’m not exactly sure, I wasn’t given specifics,” he said, “Only to be here at 10 am sharp to greet some…old, rich, prat, and they are the ones who are late.”

“I’m not--”

“And why wouldn’t they be? It makes perfect sense. They can just buy back the time they lost, and surely everyone else has nothing better to do than wait for them.”

“Sir--”

“I’m sorry, I know, this isn’t your fault,” James sighed, “It’s just the principle of it all. I understand they’re giving us money, doing us a favor even. All that gold in a vault, and they couldn’t buy themselves a watch?” 

“James--” she stressed, dropping formalities to give him a look with wide eyes and a polite smile.

“Sorry, you’re just trying to work. I’ll keep my mouth shut, don’t worry,” he teased, turning back around to resume his waiting for the selfish, rude, prick, he was supposed to be meeting, but his pasted-on smile quickly faded from his face. “No.” he whispered under his breath, so soft James barely registered he had spoken at all. 

The years had been kind to Sirius Black. 

Too kind. Too. Kind.

Dark curls skimming his shoulders now, and skin more golden than James remembered it being five years ago, like he had just finished a holiday. Well-fitted grey suit and a black tie, expensive robes draped over his shoulders with casual elegance. The same dark eyelashes. The same cocky smirk. The same burning in his finger tips, confident voice suddenly caught in his throat at the sight of Sirius.

Nearly twenty-five, and James felt all of seventeen again. Or nineteen.

“By all means, please continue. I am eager to hear what was coming next after old, rich, prat,” Sirius said, counting off the descriptors on his fingertips, “Unfortunately, only two of those things are correct.”

“So you admit you’re a prat,” James said instantly, unable to stop himself.

“I was admitting to being old,” Sirius responded, rolling up the sleeve of his robes to reveal a gold watch with a handsome teal face. “As you can see, I do own a watch, and I am perfectly on time, early even. My correspondence indicated I would arrive at half-ten.”

James felt insane staring at Sirius, starched Healer robes becoming hotter and more stifling by the minute, “Your correspondence said ten.”

“Did it?”

“I--” James didn’t have a rebuttal. He did not see the letter, he hadn’t even known who this investor was going to be and was merely following instructors from Healer Bones. For all James knew, he was sent to stand out at reception a half-hour early just in case. For all James knew, no one was expected until noon, and he was just supposed to say “yes!”. 

“No matter. What did you say your name was?”

“I didn’t.”

“Sirius Black,” Sirius said, grey eyes twinkling with unreleased laughter as he put on a show for the receptionist, extending his hand to James as if they had never met. Meanwhile, Grace had made herself quite busy with paperwork, keeping a smile on her face, cheeks tinted pink.

“James Potter.” James extended his hand to meet Sirius’s, shaking it briefly. Black didn’t break eye contact, their warm palms meshing together. “Welcome to St. Mungo’s, we are so…honored to have you,” he managed. If Sirius was going to put on a show, so was James. 

“Are you a Healer here?”

He pulled his hands away from Sirius’s, carefully placing both behind his back, “Trainnee, and given the responsibility of greeting you. If you can follow me, Mr. Black, Healer Bones, and Healer Fletscher are waiting for you, and will be thrilled to speak with you further.”

“Oh, but we were just getting to know each other.”

“What a shame,” James replied, with a fake smile, and watched as Sirius rolled his eyes in response now that they were further away from reception, walking through the double doors together. 

It was primal.

But James could smell him. Feel him as they walked in pace, shoulders brushing against one another, perhaps intentionally. Every inch of James was screaming, and he barely contained his sigh of relief once he saw the faces of his supervisors, rushing to greet Sirius and make a good impression.

“Mr. Black, we are so pleased you could make time for us today,” Healer Bones said, presenting her hand to Sirius. James had to stifle his own eye-roll as Healer Bones’s cheeks even flushed as Sirius began speaking. Because why wouldn’t they?

The charm.

The smile.

James knew. Of course, James knew. Even after five years, of no contact-- not a letter, not a run-in on the streets of Diagon Alley, nothing-- James knew how disarming Sirius Black could be without saying a single word. 

James had made a vow, though, at the front of an aisle, his family and friends gathered around him, holding hands with a beautiful, kind, caring, woman, that the night before his wedding was the last time. And it was. 

A marriage.

A war.

A child, who was now almost five years old. 

James kept his vow, staying clear of Sirius, no matter how many times a tiny thought crept into the back of his mind, wondering where he was, how he was, what he was doing, who he spent his time with, every question under the sun. And now Sirius was here, wiggling his way into his supervisors’s minds the way he had done with James. 

Good luck getting him to leave.

Healer Bones turned into puddy in Sirius’s palm, Healer Fletscher seemed to be standing up straighter, gesturing proudly and broadly to the conference room, talking in a voice much louder and lower than he usually did. Did James look the same when he began to unravel around Sirius? 

Absolutely foolish?

“I hope you’ll forgive my lateness, I was merely engrossed in conversation with Mr. Potter here, and completely lost track of the time,” Sirius’s voice cut into James’s thoughts.

So he was late. Bloody prick.

“No trouble at all. I am glad to hear Mr. Potter was a pleasure. He is one of our finest trainees, has a bright future ahead of him,” Healer Fletscher said. 

“Is that so?” Sirius asked, tilting his head and looking at James. “Well, then I’d love to take this opportunity and have Mr. Potter give me a tour of the hospital. Hear more about this bright future and, of course, the future of our collaboration together.” 

“I really don’t think that's necessary,” James said quickly, “Healer Bones, didn’t you say you wanted me--” but James stopped short, noticing the expression on his supervisor’s face that clearly indicated shut up, if he wants a tour, you’re giving him the tour.

“Nothing that can’t wait until this afternoon, if you don’t mind, Potter,” she said, unblinking. 

James smiled, thinking he would rather die than be left alone with Sirius Black, “Of course.”

If Sirius heard the nearly pathetic, whispered whine James made in the back of his throat, sounding an awful lot like his toddler when he didn’t get his way as he walked back down the hallway to begin the tour, he didn’t say anything.

Just smirked.

Dragon hide boots clicking on the tile floor as they made it past the double doors once more.

“You know who I am, you twat.” James remarked, as soon as they were out of earshot and heading into the magical elevators to the second floor. All facades dropped.

“Sure, I do, Jason.”

“You’ve been to the hospital before, you don’t need a bloody tour,”  

“Maybe,” he mused.

“And I knew you were late. Fifteen minutes! You’re such a bloody arsehole.”

“Now, that’s no way to speak to someone who is about to generously donate hundreds of galleons to this hospital.”

“What are you doing here anyway? Sudden change of heart and surge of kindness? Quarter-life crisis? Finally got bored of tucking yourself in with your piles of money and thought you’d take pity on some sick kids? Good publicity? Need to clear the Black name? Or did you just come here to see me?”

“Your ego is showing, Potter. Careful, someone might notice.”

“You’re one to talk. People have jobs to do, you know. This is a hospital, with sick people. Who need us. We can’t just drop everything to cater to you--And this is the Magical Maladies and Injuries Wing, it has approximately 200 beds, and is usually our most impacted unit.” James said, half-heartedly gesturing to the wing as a small group of Healers walked by them, nodding to Sirius, “--and your empty promise to build a new bloody ward or cure Dragon Pox, or whatever else you told them you would do. It’s rude, and it’s cruel, and--”

“Are you going to let me speak?”

“Not if I can help it,” James said quickly, and louder than he intended. 

It was a strategy and the best of options James could think up in such a short time. The quickest tour known to man, and stop Sirius from talking to him. Because that was the problem.

He had been just fine. With his wife, and his kid, and his home in Godrics Hollow, and his blossoming career.

He was fine.

Sirius was the problem, and they were both better off.

Except.

“Okay, fine, this one time, you can talk because I actually do want to know the answer of how you got here, but after that…”

Sirius laughed softly, slowing down the pace of his steps, and the sense of urgency James had to get this done as soon as possible. “My parents have both passed, my Uncle is deceased, which means the Black vault finally belongs entirely to me, and I get to choose what to do with it,” he said, “I’m looking for some worthwhile investments, and this seemed like a good place to start.”

“Why?”

“Why not?” Sirius asked back, shrugging, “As you might say, I can tuck myself in with my bags of gold and donate to a hospital that is in need at the same time. There’s more than enough to go around.”

“...Galleons?”

“Yes,” Sirius stated simply, “Merlin knows I don’t need all of it.”

“Well, now I feel like the arsehole.”

“Good.”

“I take it back.”

Sirius grinned, as they stepped into the elevator to the third floor, and his heart turned upside down in his chest. It was just a smile.

This was just a tour.

You have a life. You have a wife. 

“You really didn’t know I worked here?” James asked cautiously, all too aware of how stupid he sounded. 

For Merlin’s Sake.

“No,” Sirius said, “That was a pleasant surprise.”

“Oh.” pleasant. 

“Why did you decide to become a Healer?”

James swallowed, taken aback at the question, and looked down at the floor, running a hand through his hair, “I was forced to go into hiding…and it’s a helpless feeling to know people are out there fighting and you’re trapped inside, and so many people were injured and killed…I just told myself if I got out alive, I’d try to save more lives in the future to make up for it.”

“How noble.”

“I was being sincere.”

“So was I,” Sirius stopping their walk in the middle of the hallway, just outside a group of patient rooms. “For what it’s worth, I’m glad you're okay.”

“Not worth anything,” James replied briskly, tugging at the stiff collar of his robes, and pulling down the sleeves. 

“Stop pulling. They look good on you.”

“On the right, you’ll see a wing dedicated in the name of Griselda S. Harrington, she was a Healer who--” James began loudly. 

“It’s just you and me now, Potter.”

“Exactly.”

“How’s your wife?” he quipped.

“Exactly,”  James repeated and stopped in his tracks at the end of the hallway near the annex. “Can we just…can I just give you a tour? Can I just fulfill this obligation I have to appease the hospital, and you can give us your money, and we can go back to…”

“Pretending the other doesn’t exist?” Sirius finished, with a raise of his eyebrow. James closed his eyes and inhaled deeply. Was that what he was doing? “That was…nice, wasn’t it?” 

He felt Sirius’s hand on the side of his face and opened his eyes again. Sirius’s robe sleeve was hanging down his arm, and just beneath the cuff of his shirt sleeve, at this angle, James could make out the beginnings of a tattoo. That was new. 

What else is new?

“I don’t need nice,” Sirius said, but James grabbed Sirius’s wrist, taking his hand off his face and pushing it down. “Hm. I guess I didn’t realize you did. Guess somethings change, Potter…”

Forgive me.

“Let’s take the stairs this time around,” James offered, inclining his head to the door they were closer to, rather than making their way back toward the elevators.

“I can’t care, Potter.” 

Forgive me, please.

James pulled Sirius’s arm roughly through the doors before shoving him against the wall of the stairwell. It was satisfying to see grey eyes grow wide with surprise; to hear Sirius’s breathing hitch just slightly. James slotted one of his legs between Sirius’s, grinding his hips into Sirius’s and biting at his ear. 

“P-Potter,” Sirius gasped, head inclining backward onto the wall. Five years later, and maybe this time James could finally have the upper hand. 

James’s hand moved slowly down Sirius’s chest, expensive dress shirt beneath his fingers, until he reached the waistband of his trousers secured with a dragonhide belt. Gold buckle. 

He pulled the it upward, unhooking it, the metal prong clanging against the frame of the buckle.

“Potter,” Sirius said again lowly, head still against the wall, chest rising and falling rapidly. One of his hands on James’s forearm. 

“Hm?

“This is--” James undid the fly of Sirius’s trousers. How easy they fell to the ground, sitting crumpled around Sirius’s ankles, undoubtedly expensive material simply ruined, collecting Merlin knows what else from the stairwell floor. Bare thighs covered in dark, dark hair.

“You were saying, pretty boy?” James asked, before pressing his hand firmly against the visible bulge in Sirius’s briefs. “About not needing nice? You think I need nice?”

“I don’t, I didn’t--” Sirius breathed, but couldn’t manage the rest, James’s mouth cutting off his words. Tongue darting deep into Sirius’s mouth with such force, he felt Sirius’s grip tighten around James’s arm. 

This was better.

The moaning, the dark curls sticking to the wall behind his head, crisp white shirt pulled halfway up his torso. 

“You’re going to be death of me, I think, Black,”

James wanted nothing more than to make a mess of this man. 

“I can live with that.”

[triplefrontierbabe]

Hey! I love reading your work eSPECIALLY the smaus they're just 🤌🏼🤌🏼🤌🏼 I want them to be in my soul you get me?

Anyways I wanted to request a sebastian vettel x reader fic where he's living alone/occasionally gets his kids around the house and the reader is his neighbour, a little bonding over the snowstorm and power outage, and him helping w the occasional car trouble (wink wink) Nothing too specific just wanted to read about seb through your writing!

Snowed In with Sebastian Vettel

summary: you’re snowed in, so is Sebastian

pairing: f! reader x single! dad! Sebastian

warning: pining, some fluff?

a/n: I’m absolutely in love with all the Sebastian requests I’ve gotten. Also, anonymous, you’re so kind 😭🥹 I hope this did your idea justice! (should I make a part two???)

word count: 2k

Life has always been quieter in the countryside; less people, less noise and more distance between yourself and others. Although being a solo-flying person has its perks, it does feel alienating at times. You learned this all too fast once you finally moved towards the countryside. No longer did you have to share a wall with a noisy neighbor who has no regard for those around them, you were on your own and your closest neighbor was more than just a couple meters away.

Sebastian- that’s your neighbor- a single, recently divorced dad of three. When you first moved into your house, you went around your neighborhood to introduce yourself to your neighbors, most of whom seemed to be empty nesters, retired or both. Sebastian however was only retired, although you came to find out he said he still works philanthropically. The day you first met him, you also met his kids but it was only through an absentminded observation in the coming days that you realized he was single… not that that is important.

The days of living in your quant neighborhood came and went. Summer turned into fall which turned into winter. Through that time you occasionally had run-ins with Sebastian on the street, checking the mail or going for an afternoon walk. Eventually those run-ins became more intentional on both your parts. You figured out that he checks the mail at the same time each day, he figured out that you leave for work in the mornings promptly at 7:31 on the dot.

One fall morning, you got off to a very rough start. Your tire was flat and you could not find your car jack for the life of you. So, you made your way next door in search of help. You knocked on Sebastian’s door since you knew he was still at home and you’re pretty sure his kids were with their mom this week.

“This is gonna sound so stupid, but do you have a car jack?” You said as soon as Sebastian opened his front door. He chuckled a little at your distressed state, your usual cardigan you wore to work was thrown somewhere in your garage in a fit of slight rage earlier.

“Well, good morning to you too.” He said, smiling at you. Before then, you never realized how much taller he is than you. You have to crane your neck just to meet his gaze.

“Sorry, good morning, Sebastian.” You respond, letting out a huff of frustration.

“Well, you’re in luck,” He began “I happen to know a thing or two about cars.” You’ll never admit this to his face but upon the first time you met him, you were able to figure out he was a retired Formula 1 driver, though you’ll never admit that realization to his face.

“Why don’t you step in for a moment, the jack’s in the garage and it’s chilly out.” He says stepping aside to let you into his house. It’s the first time you’ve actually stepped foot in his house since all your interactions have occurred on the exterior. As he walks away to grab the jack, you let your eyes scan over the entryway. There’s a table with pictures of him with his kids and a photo of him from his beginning days in Formula 1. He was cute back then but his rugged look now fits him best you think to yourself. Despite being a home of three kids, the house is surprisingly clean, at least from what you can see from your spot in the foyer. After a few moments, Sebastian returns with the jack in his hand.

“Alright let’s go fix your tire.” He exclaims, waving the piece of metal in his hand. You turn on your heel to head out the door. Sebastian is close behind you and as he opens the door, he lightly lays his hand on your lower back to usher you out.

It only takes Sebastian a few moments to replace your tire which is half the time it would’ve taken you.

“There, good as new!” He says excitedly standing up and brushing his hands off on the sides of his jeans. You are quick to snap yourself out of the daze you were in– his arms just looked really good and muscular.

“Thank you so much, I owe you one.” You say clasping your hands together, bringing them up to rest beneath your chin as your gaze meets Sebastian’s. Thankfully, you were able to get to work on time with just a couple minutes to spare.

Ever since that one fall day, you circumstantially saw each other more often. Like one time Sebastian accidentally received a piece of your mail in his mailbox, or one time the lid of his garbage can blew into your yard, so on and so forth.

But no interaction could compare to the one you were bound to experience today. This winter’s weather is the nastiest the town has had in years. Every news station is predicting inches of snow, enough to keep everyone snowed in and worst of all, potential power outages. Snow began falling earlier today and it was enough to keep you home to work remotely. Last night you prepared yourself for Snowmageddon by breaking out all the candles and flashlights you would find.

Around lunch time, you noticed the snowfall begin to pick up. The accumulation was beginning to become serious and borderline worrying. And as you were beginning to prepare yourself a cup of soup for dinner, the power went out.

You thought you could power through the night without power, but the lack of heat got the better of you. The previous owner’s of your house had boarded up the fireplace and you always told yourself you’d get around to it but you never did. It only took a look out your side window to see smoke coming out of the chimney next door. So, you bundled yourself up in your coat, hat, scarf and blanket and trudged through the snow to the house next door.

Which brings you to where you are now; on the front porch of Sebastian’s house. It only took a couple knocks for Sebastian to come and answer the door.

“Are you okay?” He immediately asks, grabbing your hand and pulling you inside. He’s wearing a black crewneck and gray sweatpants with an old Red Bull beanie which makes him look like an off-duty lumberjack since he’s let his hair and beard grow out.

“My power is out and my stupid fireplace is boarded up and I feel like I’m freezing to death.” You say as water fills your eyes. It’s hard to tell if the tears are from the blistering cold or just sheer frustration. In the back of your mind, you kick yourself for only having these interactions with Sebastian when you’re in a moment of desperation.

Sebastian gives you a look of pity when he sees a singular tear roll down your cheek. His heart breaks a little at the sight of your lip quivering and more tears welling up in your eyes.

“Please, make yourself comfortable in front of the fire. I’ll get you a cup of tea.” He says guiding you to the couch that’s in front of the fireplace, crackling with comforting heat. You sit down and wrap your blanket tighter around your body. Looking around the room you see more photos of him and his kids and a few pieces of memorabilia from racing. By a quick glance, it’s hardly noticeable that he was ever a world renowned driver but it’s evident that since his retirement, he’s been trying to assimilate as normal of a life as he can.

Sebastian returns to the room with two mugs of herbal tea and a cup of soup. He sets the tea and soup down in front of you as he sits himself on the other end of the sofa.

You both sit in silence for a few minutes as you eat your soup and occasionally steep your tea. It’s a comfortable silence, neither of you feel the need to disrupt it as you drink in the moment of being in someone else’s company.

“This is very kind of you,” You begin to say while taking a sip of your tea “after this, I really do owe you.”

“Don’t even worry about it, seriously. After all, I have been meaning to invite you over ever since you moved in– I mean we’ve lived next door for months now and there’s only so much you can know about a person by checking the mail.” He says laughing. You offer him a smile as you nod your head. He is right, for months you’ve lived next to him but your words have always been very limited.

“Well, why don’t you start things off? Tell me about yourself.” You say, turning your body sideways so that your back rests against the armrest of the couch to face Sebastian.

He tells you the cliff notes version of his life, from his racing career to starting a family and retiring and he quickly brushes over the divorce that happened two years ago. In turn, you tell him about yourself, your job and what made you move out to the countryside. Easily enough, your conversation flows into talking about anything and everything. He tells you tales from the paddock and you tell him about the drama happening in your office.

In the middle of your hours-long conversation, Sebastian gets up to add more firewood to keep the fire burning. The domesticity of the situation is now at the forefront of your mind. You can’t remember the last time you really sat down and talked with someone like this. A small smile appears on your face when Sebastian turns back around to you.

“What?” He says with an inquisitive look on his face.

“Nothing. Just relishing in the moment.” You say as your smile grows wider. Sebastian stops in his tracks for a beat before he breaks out a toothy smile.

“Ever since I moved out here, I’ve just felt a little lonely so it’s nice to be in good company.” You say holding Sebastian’s gaze while he sits back down on the couch, closer to you this time.

“I know how you feel. The solitude out here is nice until it’s not.” He says looking at the fire. You’re still looking at him and you notice how the glow of the fire reflects in his bright eyes. Absentmindedly your eyes travel down his nose to his lips then up to his hair. It isn’t until you bring your gaze back to his eyes that you see he’s turned his attention back to you and he most certainly caught you analyzing his features. Your eyes meet his and your cheeks immediately flush out of embarrassment. How has it taken you this long to finally look at him, let alone really be in his presence?

“You should get some rest, it’s been a long day.” He says finally breaking the silence and you out of your thoughts. His eyes quickly flicker down to your lips then back up to your eyes. You’re too shocked to move or say anything. Whatever happens, happens you think to yourself. But nothing does. Sebastian simply stands up from the sofa, says goodnight then moves to the other sofa in the room. You’re too tired to overthink the interaction that was just had, you’ll do that in the morning. After a few moments of listening to the fire crackle, you drift off to sleep.

A couple hours later, Sebastian wakes up to feed the fire more wood to keep the warmth going. He sees you peacefully asleep on the couch with your hair tousled and your lips slightly parted, but to him you’ve never looked more radiant than in that moment. On his way back to his sofa, he leaves a small kiss on the crown of your head. Maybe being snowed in isn’t such a bad thing.

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[spellwell]

my neighbor; richard grayson.

dick grayson fluff one-shot

fluff; sfw

summary: Janet has lived across from the richest man in town and his son for years, but seeing as he’s the most popular kid at school they’ve never spoken. When Dick’s teacher tells him he can raise his grades or quit the football team, he’s paired with the smartest girl in school- Janet. After countless study sessions, a friendship begins to blossom. One night while walking home alone she is saved by the infamous Robin, Batman’s sidekick. She becomes infatuated with Robin and can’t seem to stop thinking about him. What happens when she finds out Dick, who she previously never saw herself with might have a secret?

warnings: none. cussing ig. just fluff

universe: random batman and robin

notes: this can be read as this girl Janet that I made up or you can pretend it’s you, totally up to you. either way I thought it was a cute idea :) enjoy. PLEASE SEND IN STORY REQUESTS!!!

words: 5.7k

Every day I wake up, and go to the same stupid school around all the same stupid classmates that I’ve known my entire life. Due to the high crime rate in Gotham, no body wants to move here, let alone bring their kids and enlist them into Gotham high. Not all of it’s bad, some of the people are better than others but one I can’t stand is Dick Grayson. Every day I sit here and watch as the girls in this class fall all over him, like he’s some kind of king. Sure, he’s conventionally attractive and plays football but what else does he do, really?

Last I heard he’s failing this class, and probably others, what kind of girl would want a guy with no brains?

“Foster! Grayson! Come and see me before the end of class.” The teacher’s crude tone interrupts my thoughts, causing my gaze to snap towards her direction. Just like she had manifested, the bell rings shortly after her announcement, a groan leaving my chest. I heard her correctly, my last name along with… his. I begrudgingly stand to my feet and shuffle in the direction of her desk, hearing Dick’s annoying voice ring as he says good bye to his many wives. Am I in trouble? Why would I be? I pay attention and get straight A’s, something Dick has never done in his life.

His presence beside me is oddly intimidating, but that quickly goes away once he opens his mouth. “What’s up teach? I gotta go to practice.” He says in a rushed tone, causing my eyes to roll. She gives him a stern look, like he’s not happy about what he’s about to hear. “Practice is none of your concern anymore, Richard. You are failing this class along with math, history.” She scans her computer screen and then looks back up at him. “The works Grayson. If you do not get these grades up by the end of this week, you will be cut from the team.” Her voice softens, trying to show him the severity of his situation. A giggle threatened to escape my lips, and it would have if she hadn’t looked at me next. “And you Ms. Foster, would be the perfect tutor.” My eyes fly into a saucer like shape, mouth agape. Dick opens his mouth before I can even think of a response. “So if Janet helps me study, and I pass, I can stay on the team?” His voice is hopeful, excited even.

“If she agrees to it, yes. Until you pass, you’re still cut from practice.” She looks back and forth between us, a sigh leaving my lips. “No, sorry.” I finally get the courage to look up at him. “I don’t have time.” I look back at the teacher with a pretend sad face and shake my head. “You’ll have to find someone else.” I know out of anyone in this class, my grades are the highest, but no way am I helping this jock pass any of his classes.

I begin to exit but Dick is close behind me. “Janet! Janet wait! What do you mean you don’t have time? Ya gotta help me, right?” I swear this guy is actually stupid! He’s been handed everything his entire life hasn’t he? Won’t get the memo. “I’m surprised you even know my name. I’m busy just like I said, sorry I can’t be more help.” I speed up my pace, but his pace simply begins to match my own. “Of course I know your name! We’re neighbors, we’ve been neighbors Janet, oh come on!” Not only am I surprised he knows my name, but that we live in the same neighborhood. I’ve watched this guy grow up, his rich dad always giving him anything and everything he wants, which is something I’ve never had. “Please.” He took my silence as another no, which it was. “Please, I’ll do anything. My dad can pay you, or I could! Oh- uh, I could take you to prom?” This causes me too groan in disgust as we approach the back doors of the school. “I said no, Dick!” My voices raises, hand almost to the door. Before I can reach it and escape, he fills the space between me and it, making me jump back. “Look, I know we’ve never been friends, but you’re super smart and I could really use your help…please?” I look up at him, watching his expression morph into the face he makes when he gets anything he could ever want. I sigh, tapping my foot on the ground. He looks so sad, hopeless even… plus he said please. Oh man, am I really about to say yes? My arms cross as another large sigh escapes my lungs. “Alright, I’ll help you study-“

“No way! Thanks Janet I really needed-“

“On one condition! We meet at your house every day after school for the next two weeks, excluding weekends. No flaking! This is my time you’re using here.”

He nods quickly like an excited dog. “Sounds great, yeah. We start tomorrow?” I nod back, accepting that answer, but refusing any kind of smile. Him on the other hand, has the largest grin iv’e ever seen. “And if you still fail, it’s not my fault! You can’t blame me.” He rolls his eyes in a playful manner. “Yeah, yeah. Thanks again, Janet!” He turns to run away, looking back in my direction one last time.

“Oh and Janet, that was two conditions, not one.”

-

It’s Friday and unfortunately my school day isn’t quite over. Sure I get to leave this building, but it’s the first day of tutoring Grayson. Now I get to leave here and go over to the Wayne mansion, where my new student lives. I was surprised to learn that I actually exist to him. In middle school I moved here with my parents, never having many friends so none were really left behind. I think I secretly hoped I could make a friend upon moving here but the few friends I do have are more quiet and reserved than me. So the idea of going to someone’s house is intimidating but kind of exciting. Especially a house like Bruce Wayne’s, one of the richest men in town. My house is no where near this size and it intimidates me even further as I approach it. I wasn’t sure what to do as I got close to the gate, nerves filling me. A doorbell sat to the right of the gate, my finger raising to press it. I gently press the button, a sound erupting from the device it was connected to. Nothing happens after this and I stand there, slightly embarrassed and confused. That was until I watched Dick ran from the top of the driveway, towards me. He had that big stupid grin he always has, which oddly calmed the nerves. “Hey! I thought I’d come get you.” He said, using the remote in his hand to open the gate. Admittedly, that was nice of him seeing as I wasn’t really sure how to get into this place. “It’s kinda huge, but I promise it’s much more inviting on the inside.” He goes on and on as we go up the long walk way. “Alfred’s pretty cool, don’t let him intimidate you.” Not a word has come from my mouth yet, but Dick seems to talk and talk and talk.

He definitely lied about the inside being more inviting, Mr.Wayne also seems to like keeping it dim in here. “Do you need anything, Master Dick?” Who I assume is Alfred says as Dick ushers me through the front of the house. “No thanks, Alfred! Janet is here to help me study.” Alfred looked in my direction, a small smile appearing on his face. “Welcome Mrs. Foster, it’s nice to have a neighbor over for a change.” This made my eyes widen, the idea of the Wayne estate residents acknowledging me and my families’ presence was surprising. I flash him a small smile before Dick nearly drags me up the stairs like an embarrassed child. The place really is huge and there are so many doors that I can only imagine lead to huge rooms. The house was covered in old things, vintage looking decor like it had been there for a long time. Eventually we made it to what I assume is hie bedroom, much more proper looking than I was expecting. “We have a library, but I thought you’d be more comfortable in here.” He was right, his room may also be huge, but much less intimidating than a large library. “Sorry about Alfred, he’s just excited about about having a guest.” I shake my head, a small chuckle leaving me. “No need to apologize.”

As the studying commenced, I began to realize Dick is actually really nice and that I may have judged him too quickly. He’s also not as dumb as I took him for, especially with numbers. “You’re really not that bad at math, y’know.” I said as I watched him finish his last problem on the homework. “Yeah?” He looked up with his bright blue eyes, a small grin on his lips. “Still not better than you.” I giggled, rolling my eyes. He keeps telling me how smart I am, but really if he applied himself I could see him getting pretty good grades. “So what’s it like, living in such a huge house like this? Is it just you, your father and Alfred?” I ask, watching him write the last number to his final answer. “Yeah it’s just us. This place is amazing, but kind of quiet and lonely sometimes.” He says with a shrug, pushing the paper to my direction on the floor. The more I see into his personal life, the more I understand why he would thrive off the attention at school, which I previously found obnoxious. With this new found understanding, his personality comes off as more endearing. “What about you? I mean what’s your home life like?” I look at him before darting my eyes down to his paper, he got it right. “Your answer is correct.” I said with a smile, going to pull the history book out of my bag. “You didn’t answer the question, that bad huh?” He motions to the book in my hands. “Before you start going on about that, I wanna know more about you, seriously.” I groan and roll my eyes, a small smile threatening to creep onto my cheeks. “It’s nothing special… really. I mean my parents are well off but we aren’t the closest, I focus on my studies mainly.” I shrug my shoulders, opening the book to the page we’ve been working on in class.

He rolls his eyes back at me, sitting back on his hands. “That’s all your gonna tell me, really? I’ll get more out of you by the time we’re done with this studying deal.” He says with a smirk, that classic smirk he uses on all the ladies. Unlike these other girls at school, I do not have the hots for Grayson. Now that I’ve gotten to know him though, I guess I understand the charm.

-

It’s been a week since we started tutoring, and he’s improved his grades a lot. All he really seemed to need, was a little bit more focus and motivation. I’ve decided I like this guy more than I thought I did, maybe he’s not the spoiled brat I assumed him to be. Dick has seemed to take a liking to me, saying hello in the halls and talking my ear off when I go over. He even invited me to the game tonight, to which I said no of course. School games have never been my thing, and Dick Grayson is not going to change that.

I am at the school, however to finish my last online paper of the week. Once a week I stay late and finish any computer work I need, seeing as I hate asking my dad to borrow his work computer over school papers. I always pick nights like this, a big game going on, staff and classmates a like making all tons of racket. It may seem like an odd time to get quiet study time, but this school is terrifying to be nearly alone in and the racket helps fill the overly silent room.

The paper took longer than I had hoped, but once I finished the last sentence it was all worth it. I wasn’t expecting the sky to be so dark as I exited, realizing I took my sweet time tonight. I usually try and leave right before the game ends, but tonight it’s just now ending. I make my way down the path in front of the school, passing all kinds of people I recognize. My eyes trail around to see Dick, standing with three girls that I see follow him around all the time. “Janet!” He seems to notice me as well, motioning in big movements for me to come over. I roll my eyes and make my way over, not exactly wanting to stay and chat. “Our basketball team did great, ya missed it!” He gets so excited about sports, just another thing we don’t have in common. “I think I’ll survive.” He grins at my sarcastic comment, like he always does. “You want a ride home?” He pulls his keys out of his pocket and shakes them, the girls next to him watching the charms dangle like cats. Dick will show that car daddy got him to anyone, he’s obsessed with it and I definitely don’t want that much attention. “Thanks, but no thanks. I’m walking home.” The girls next to him stop glaring and look away, happy with my answer. He gives me a disapproving look, hands flying to his hips. “It’s dark, Janet. Is that really safe?” I mock his stance, hands resting on my hips. “You can take me home, Dickie!” I nearly gag at that nickname, but this blondie always calls him that. He seems to get distracted by this easily, making my escape easy. He goes to speak again, but I swiftly had walked away and I’m sure those girls will take care of him just fine.

The walk home was going to be like any walk home, that was until I stumbled upon an old playground that i’ve loved since I moved here. The thing is falling apart and truly, it should probably be removed but on late night walks like this, I can’t help but gaze at it. The idea of sitting here and getting some much needed me time is great, so I go and take a seat at one of the swings that are barley hanging on. One thing I did not consider, is who ever else may also want to come to this park and if they could be unsafe. The air feels still, maybe even a bit too still. Gotham tends to be loud and polluted with the energies of overpopulation, but tonight it feels empty and calm. My phone begins to ring, the sound making me jump out of my skin. I go to check it, until a figure comes around the corner of a tree and makes me jump out of my skin once more.

Quickly standing up, the phone leaves my mind like it’s not even making sound anymore. The figure wastes no time making it’s way over and I waste no time attempting to get away. “What’s your name?” The mystery figure asks in an odd tone. “Do you wanna hang out?” The figure comes into light, it’s features now apparent to me. My heart gets caught in my throat, a decent sized man now in front of me. He looks disheveled, an evil grin adorning his face. I want to open my mouth and speak, but anxiety has my vocal chords tied. “I’m not gonna hurt you.” He gets closer, speaking again. I don’t trust his words, backing up further than I intended and almost falling over the swing behind me. “I gotta go.” That’s all I could get out as I prepare to book it. We make eye contact for a good amount of time, like he’s trying to intimate me. I take this second to split, but he proves to be faster than me and gets a good hold on my wrist. I scream, body instantly tensing and going into panic mode.

This guy has me, and based on his smirk I can only imagine what he plans to do with me. I struggle against his grip, pulling and tugging until his grip begins to cut off circulation. “Let go of me!” I scream, hearing a laugh erupt from his chest as he watches me struggle. I yank hard enough to send my body onto the concrete beneath me, this guy now preying from above me. I watch as he goes to grab me again, but within a blink he is now also on the ground. The wind gets knocked out of him as he hits the ground, “Grabbing young girls in the middle of the night? Is that really a good look?” A male voice asks, now standing in between me and my predator.

I look up to see my savior, a raven haired masked man. The guy gets up, panicked that he got caught and begins to run away. The masked man grabs something out of his pocket and throws it towards the running villain who instantly goes back down as it reaches him. My eyes go wide, darting from him to the masked man. I quickly get up, scrambling to find the courage to just run away back home but before I can the masked man turns to me. “Are you okay?” He asks, making my paranoia settle. I can’t see his eyes, but his expression is kind. I nod slowly, words still hiding from me. He checks back to see the guy is in fact down, the sharp object he threw sticking out of his ankle. Pained groans leave his mouth as he rolls around and holds his ankle, deserved.

“Did he hurt you?” My attention is brought back to my hero. “No… thanks to you.” I said softly, still shaken up. He smiled at my words, a smile I don’t think I’ll ever forget. He looked me up and down, his concerned expression returning. “You gotta be more careful, there’s some serious creeps out at night.” He looked around and then back at me. “I’ll take care of this guy, go home.” His voice was sweet but stern, just like the rest of him. I stare for a moment, looking between him and the guy on the ground. “Okay…” I finally find the words, “thanks again…” my voice soft, blushing at the grin he holds on his cheeks. I flash him the smallest grin before running from the scene, just glad to be okay.

I watched my back as I got home, making sure to avoid any more confrontation for tonight. Who was that guy? I couldn’t see beyond his mask. All I know, is that he will forever be my hero.

-

It’s now Monday and the idea of telling Dick he was right made my stomach turn. I should have let him drive me home, but a small part of me is glad I didn’t. After being saved by the infamous Robin, Batman’s side kick, I have a new idea of what a man should be like. No seriously, he’s all I could think about all weekend. The male love interests in my books have all become him and any cute boy at school now disinterests me. I’ve known of the vigilante and his side kick for a while now seeing as well… everyone here knows of Batman and Robin. I however never thought I’d find myself being saved by either of them, especially the cute sidekick. The sweet smile on his face, the confident way he holds himself, really everything about him seems so intoxicating. I’d be lying if I said school was on my mind at all today, like… at all. Of course I didn’t tell my parents, or anyone for that matter, I don’t want anyone knowing I put myself in such a risky situation. But Robin knows, and now I can’t help but wonder who on earth he could be.

“Earth to Janet!” Dick’s loud, obnoxious voice broke through my day dreams, making me realize I’m currently sitting on his bedroom floor. “C’mon, Jan! We got a test tomorrow and you’ve barley been here for the last hour. What are you thinking about?” I look up from the floor and to him. He’s leaning back against the bed frame, a puzzled look on his face. “I mean, usually you’re yelling at me to pay attention.” He chews on the gum in his mouth, a large smack sounding every few minutes. “Sorry Dick, I just have a lot on my mind.” The idea of telling him about my mystery savior scares me, but maybe he can help me figure out who it is. “Oh yeah? I didn’t know anything could be more important to you than studying.” I give him a playful glare, deciding to glaze over his comment. “Something crazy happened to me Friday night.”

This caused him to perk up, instantly sitting up. “Crazy? Like what?” He blinked a few times, watching me react hesitantly. “I can see the wheels turning Jan, what happened?” He practically jumped up and down in his seat, obviously intrigued. I sigh, leaning in like I’m about to reveal a huge secret. “I got attacked by some psycho at the park…” His eyed went wide, mouth opening to say I told you so I assume but I cut him off. “He tried to hurt me… I mean I really thought I was a goner. But Robin showed up!” I could feel my own eyes light up, lips threatening to yank a grin onto my cheeks. “He saved me!” He raised a brow, the same puzzled look still adorning his face. “Robin? Like Batman’s sidekick Robin?” I nod furiously, adjusting in my seat on the floor. “Yes! He flew right in and saved me. I mean really Dick, you should have seen the guys face, he was flabbergasted!” This made us both chuckle, before he got real serious again.

“I’m glad he was there to save you, but what did I tell you about walking home at night… alone?! Seriously Jan, you could have been seriously hurt.” I roll my eyes, groaning at he sound of him shrilling. “I know, I know-“

“And who even is this Robin guy? I mean isn’t he a vigilante?” I quickly shake my head at the idea of Robin being any less than a masked hero. “No, no! He’s a hero… he’s my hero. I mean, he saved me!” A small grin appeared on his face, for why I’m not sure but he seemed to like that answer. “Just be careful…” He says soft, both of our eyes darting down to the book in front of us. He’s right, I haven’t been very focused on our study course today. A small smile sits on my cheeks as I think of Robin and how he saved me, reliving it as I told the story to Dick. “Soooo… you got a thing for this guy or something? I don’t think I’ve ever seen you smile this much.” My eyes dart up from the page, a crimson blush taking over my entire face. “A what-“

He smirked, closing the book and accepting his fate of no studying today. “A crush, you have a crush.” A shocked sound leaves my mouth, if this booknwasnt so heavy, I’d throw it at him. “He saved my life!” He laughs, causing a giggle to also erupt from me. “Hey, I get it, don’t gotta make excuses with me.” I laugh harder, embarrassed but he just smiles down at me.

“If you figure out who he is, can I come to the wedding?”

-

A month later

After school activities had gone back to normal after me and Dick’s study agreement was over. He finally passed the classes he was in trouble for and got to return to the team. We may not hang out every day anymore, but I was surprised to see him still talk to me. Some days, he even has me come over to help with homework. Dick is very smart, it’s not that he can’t do it, he just really needs help focusing sometimes.

As for my crush on Robin, nothing has come of that. I did as much research as possible, or at least to my knowledge and this guy has done a really good job of concealing his identity. I’ve seen him a few more times, in the middle of some crime fighting with Batman in the city but haven’t tried to approach him. Really, all hopes of ever finding him have left me and I’m happy with that. I’ve spent my whole life so far alone, and it will continue that way, it’s not like anyone would ever like me like that anyways.

Today I agreed to go home with Dick, who wanted some help with a project and while I really wanted to meet him there, he’s insisted he drive us there. I feel terribly awkward and uncomfortable as I walk down the hall and towards the back door, next to Dick Grayson. “You’re gonna love my car, she purrs like a kitty.” He makes a cat sound, causing me to cringe even further. “You’re so weird, Dick.” He laughs as we pass girls and guys, all with weird looks on their faces. I’m not used to this kind of attention, in fact I do not like it. This is the kind of attention I had expected though if I let him drive me home, no body would expect him to have me in his car. He held the back door open for me and dragged me out to his car, grinning and waving to some of his fan girls on the way.

“Your first ride in the Grayson mobile!” He actually opens the passenger door for me, which makes a small grin appear on my cheeks. “And only.” I mutter to myself, but he seems to miss it and quickly jump into the drivers seat, taking no time to take off. I try and ignore the feeling of eyes staring at me as we speed out of the parking lot, admittedly this car does go pretty fast, but I’m still not convinced it could charm me like the other girls it works on. The drive to his house was fast and I enjoyed the silence for once as he focused on driving. Alfred seemed happy to see me, as he usually is and Bruce is no where to be found… as he usually is. I have actually met him a few times now and swear he even recognizes me now.

I’ve gotten a full tour of the Wayne mansion by now, so I grew surprised when I realized I got lost. On my way back from the bathroom I must have taken a wrong turn somehow and now found myself in an area of the house I don’t recognize as much. I will admit, this house leaves me curious with it’s age and size so I begin to peek into different rooms I’ve never seen before. One of them seems like an office, an older office that Bruce may not use anymore so I quietly slip in, planning to just look for a second. A large bookcase sat behind a desk, which is the first thing to grab my attention. I stand back and look at a few books, until a few specific titles take my attention away from the rest. Leave it to me to instead of snooping, get distracted by books. After listening for anyone coming, I go to grab a book from the shelf but it seems stuck. I tug a few times, the shelf shifting before me after the last tug. I hop back as the small opening appears from behind the now pushed aside case.

A dark room is now before me, small and quiet. I decide after an internal battle in my head to step inside and look around. It’s dusty in some spots, and I’m not able to see all too well because of the dark, but I do see the reflection of a glass case. I get close, finding old torn up fabric behind the said glass of the case. This isn’t any normal fabric though, these are a pair of Batman and Robin suits, a few of the things I’ve seen them wear. My eyes widen, breathe getting caught in my throat, why does Bruce Wayne have these? I scan them from top to bottom, they look used and torn in some places, like they really have been used in battle. I’m not stupid, and there’s no way Bruce Wayne is just a huge Batman fan, I know what this must mean. “You’re not gonna like- tell anyone right?” This makes me nearly jump out of my skin and fly through the ceiling. “Oh shit!” I yelled in surprise and fear, whipping around to see it’s just Dick who must have snuck in here quieter than a mouse. “Bruce is batman?” I quickly ask, words pouring out of my mouth. He gets closer quickly, movements also rapid and nervous. “You can’t tell anyone!” He whisper yells, now close enough for only me to hear him. He looks down at me, an expression of fear painting his eyes. “I mean seriously, Janet-“

I look him up and down before turning to look at the Robin suit that sat next to Batman’s. “This means that…” I trail off, nerves starting to consume me. “You’re… No way.” He seems to get even more nervous than before, showing a side of him I’ve never seen before. He sighs as I stand and look at him, dumbfounded. “Yes Janet… I’m Robin. And Bruce is Batman, but absolutely nobody can know-!”

“I won’t tell anyone I swear, okay?” I quickly reassure him, wanting his trust. “I mean it.” We both stare at each other for a moment, my cheeks heating as I think about the fact that… well Dick is Robin. The same Robin I’ve been crushing on… the same crush I told Dick about. Oh my god, I can’t tell if this is exciting, confusing or embarrassing. I’ve never seen Dick like that, but Robin is the most infatuating person I’ve ever seen. This also means that Dick was watching, an saved me, one of the sweetest things anyone has ever done for me. Dick is my hero. His face slowly changes from shaken to smug, a smirk tugging his lips’ upward. “Does this mean you got it bad for me?” He says, biting his own lip and holding his hands together. My cheeks go hot and red, spit getting caught in my throat as I watch him stand and look at me, almost excited like.

“You don’t have to be shy about it.” He says soft, inching closer. I stutter, not sure how to respond. I’ve always found Dick Grayson to be overrated and annoying, but over time I have learned to love him as a friend. “I don’t know what to say…” I say soft, my eyes trailing down to the ground. I’ve learned Dick is a decent guy, but now I know he’s even better than I thought, a real hero. I look back up, seeing that his smile remains, but softens from smug to sweet. “You could ask me out.” He says soft, his thumbs still pulling at each other. It almost seems like, he wants me or something like he’s been waiting for this moment and wants me to ask him out. “Do you want that?” I asked, head cocked to the side. His smile fades, this seemed to embraced him, oops. “Yeah.” He says bluntly, making me confidence leave me and nerves return. “I’ve liked you for a while now… since you started tutoring me.” He looks at me with soft eyes, a small smile returning. “If you don’t feel the same it’s okay-“

“No! I do like you.” The words just seemed too again, pour out of me like an uncontrollable waterfall. “I like both of you… you and Robin I mean. You just happen to be both of them. You’re the one that saved me.” He watched me from a few inches away before deciding to break the distance and pull me into a gentle but close hug. “You’re the only person that seems to like me for me, of course I’d save you.” He said softly, pulling away to look at me for a moment. We lock eyes as he leans down to kiss me softly, but only for a moment to leave it soft and gentle. “What about all the others girls at school that like you?” I ask softy, eyes trailing to the side, his kiss tingling my lips. I always tease him about all the girls that he flirts with, little did I know the whole time I was who he wanted. “I only want you, though.” This made me smile and lean up to give him a peck on the cheek. He chuckled to himself, pulling me closer and squeezing me to death which also admitted a chuckle from me.

“No seriously though, you can’t tell anyone about the Batman and Robin shit.” I look up at him with a smirk, a way to tease him. “On one condition.” He rolls his eyes, hand reaching up top hold my cheek in his palm. “You and your conditions.”

“I get to be your girlfriend.”

“As long as I get to be your boyfriend.”

love, spell <3

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Meet My Family

Requested Here!

Pairing: Jim Street x fem!baker!reader

Summary: Street is ready to introduce you to his family. You become fast friends with his SWAT team, but meeting his mother is a difficult challenge. After she tries to scare you away from Street, he faces a tough decision about who he considers family.

Warnings: Karen is Karen, Jim Street is a flirt™️, brief angst, fluff, not proofread

Word Count: 2.1k+ words

Masterlist Directory | Jim Street Masterlist | Request Info\Fandom List

“Hey, handsome,” you greet before kissing Jim’s cheek.

“Hi,” he responds slowly, his eyes narrowed as he watches you. “What’d you do?”

“Why do you think I did something?” you ask, blinking innocently.

“Because you met me at the door with a kiss and it smells like cookies in here.”

“I am a baker.”

“And I’m a cop. I can read you, babe.”

“Babe?” you repeat with a smile. “Are you flirting with me?”

“Not until you tell me what you want,” Street stipulates, failing to hide his smile.

“You said you were ready to introduce me to your team. And I accidentally tripled a few trial recipes, so I have a ton of cookies right now.”

“You want to bribe them,” he concludes, nodding.

“Not exactly what I meant, but… yeah.”

“Are you sure? They can be a lot. They’re going to like you, probably more than they like me, but I didn’t say I wanted to introduce you to rush you into anything.”

“You’re not rushing me. I’m ready to meet them. They’re important to you, and I love you.”

“Enough to save some cookies for me?”

“Of course.”

Less than half an hour after arriving at the station, Chris inhales deeply and says, “I love you.”

You smile as Street asks, “Because of the cookies?”

“Really?” Hondo asks you. “Street?”

“I see why he hid you,” Tan says, reaching for another cookie. “We’re going to need the address of your bakery.”

“The cookies aren’t the only reason we like you,” Luca explains. “You’re great for Street.”

“He’s great for me,” you reply. “But I’m glad you like the cookies, too.”

“How’d you meet?” Deacon inquires.

“He stole a cake.”

“I did not steal it,” Street corrects, looking at you as if you just accused him of murder. “I accidentally knocked it out of her window.”

“How do you accidentally knock a cake out of a window?” Hondo asks.

“I’ve asked the same thing almost daily since we started dating and I’ve never gotten a clear answer,” you say.

“Did you start dating after that?” Chris wonders.

“The same day,” Street brags. “I apologized for ruining the cake, and when I saw her, I had to ask her out.”

Hondo looks at you for confirmation, and you shrug. It’s close enough to the truth. Street tried to salvage the cake, offering apology after apology until you laughed. He looked up at you, with cake and frosting up to his elbows, and couldn’t find any more words to say. He finally blurted out a proposal to buy you dinner, and you haven’t looked back since.

“You should come to dinner with us on Friday,” Hondo tells you. “We’re going to a diner that just opened on Wilshire.”

“I’d love to,” you reply. “I’m sorry if I overstepped by just showing up today with no notice.”

“Family can drop by anytime,” Luca assures you.

After you say your farewells and gather the now empty cookie trays, you exchange numbers with Chris and talk to her about some of your shared favorite recipes. Meanwhile, the guys tell Street you’re perfect for him and welcome anytime, whether you’re bearing baked goods or not.

“How long have you been together?” Deacon asks him.

“About a month,” Street answers.

“What does your mom think about the new relationship?” Hondo inquires.

Street looks at you, where you’re laughing with Chris, then admits, “She doesn’t know. I wanted to introduce her to my actual family first.”

Deacon pats Street’s shoulder and encourages him to do what he thinks is best.

“We are your family, kid,” Hondo promises. “And we’re here for you – both of you.”

Street stops outside his door. He begins speaking but doesn’t get past your name before trailing off.

“I know,” you whisper comfortingly. “I’m here for you, Jim. Not your mom. And if she doesn’t like me, that’s okay. At the end of the day, it’s your decision about who you love, not hers. You know that, right?”

“I do. Okay, let’s get this over with.”

Street takes your hand and leads you into his apartment. His mom is living with him temporarily while she gets on her feet again and figures out what exactly she’s going to do for the remainder of her parole – or so she says.

“Jimmy!” she greets warmly. When she sees you, her smile drops.

“Mom, this is my girlfriend,” he introduces. “And this is my mom, Karen Street.”

“Nice to meet you, Ms. Street,” you greet with a smile, offering your hand.

“You too,” she answers. She then turns to Street, wiping the hand she used to shake yours on her pants, and says, “I couldn’t remember how to use the coffee maker. Could you show me again?”

“I’ll just make you some right now,” he offers before asking if you want anything.

“No, thanks,” you answer softly. Sitting with Karen, you ask how her day is going so far.

“Let’s just skip all the niceties since Jimmy isn’t here,” she interrupts. “You know as well as I do it will never work out. My Jimmy is a cop, he’s handsome, and you’re… a baker? Do you honestly see that working?”

Your smile droops, but you’re unwilling to let Karen Street deter you or scare you away from dating the man who makes you happy.

“We can make it work,” you answer. “I’m sorry that you feel that way.”

“It would be in your best interest to leave,” she snaps.

“Here you go, Mom,” Street says, placing a steaming mug of coffee beside her.

Karen looks between you and Street, then asks, “Could I speak to you alone, Jimmy?”

“Mom,” he begins, shaking his head.

“I actually need to use the restroom,” you offer, standing.

Street nods, points you in the right direction, then takes your previous seat. He brushes his fingers against yours as you pass him and prepares for his mother to be back to her usual antics.

“That girl is not good for you, Jimmy,” she warns. “She’s rude, uncaring, and she told me that I was a bad mother! Can you believe that? She practically admitted to using you for your law enforcement ties and for money.”

“That doesn’t sound like her,” Street replies, knowing perfectly well that you didn’t say anything rude or about using him.

Karen gets desperate then, unwilling to lose Street because he’s her access to everything. Jim can get her everything she needs and wants, and she will not let you win him over and take him from her.

“I’m sure it doesn’t, not to you,” Karen continues. “She mentioned another man, so I’d bet she’s not loyal. And you, Jimmy, are the most loyal and caring person I’ve ever met. I don’t want to see her hurt you.”

You linger by the door and scroll on your phone in the bathroom. You’re going to give Street and his mom five minutes to talk, you decide. Smiling as you reply to a message from Chris, you don’t concern yourself with hypothesizing what Karen is saying about you. When you do return, Street stands and rises from his seat.

“Did Chris text you too?” he asks. “About coming over to help with the paint?”

“She did,” you reply, following his lead. Chris texted about helping her paint; that wasn't a lie, but she doesn't need help until next weekend. If Street’s taking it as an out, you’ll go with him. You’d go anywhere with him, you think. “It was a pleasure,” you tell Karen. “I made blueberry scones earlier and thought you might like them. They're on the counter.”

“Thank you,” she replies flatly. “Be safe, Jimmy.”

“I’ll be back later, Mom,” he assures her.

As the door closes behind you, Street sighs and wraps his arm around your shoulder.

“C’mon, homewrecker,” he murmurs.

With a laugh, you ask, “What?”

“I’ll tell you later. I need ice cream.”

“And cookies?”

“So many cookies.”

After arriving at your home, you share a plate of fresh cookies and homemade ice cream with Street. He stays close to you, stealing kisses between cookies, and makes you feel incredibly loved. As always.

“Now that you’ve met the family, what do you think?” he inquires.

“If you and Tan ever get tired of SWAT, you should do standup comedy,” you begin.

As you continue raving about 20-David squad and envisioning yourself staying friends with them for years to come, Street smiles. He knew his team would like you, but he’s glad you’re joining the group as seamlessly as he hoped you would.

“Oh, Deacon texted me yesterday,” you remember. “I’m making Sam a birthday cake.”

“Charge him double,” Street jokes.

“I said Deacon not Hondo.”

“You talk to my friends more than I do.”

“They’re great.”

“But my mom is insane.”

Your eyes widen and you sit up straight. Pulling your leg beneath you, you promise, “I was not going to say that.”

“Oh, no, it wasn’t a question,” Street assures you, tugging you closer. “You’re not going to see her again unless you really want to.”

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s not your fault. My mom… My mom isn’t good for me, I’ve known that for a long time. Today, she showed me that she isn’t good for you either, and, if she can’t be supportive of us, I’m done. She’s pulled me in too deep before and I’m not going to let her do it again.”

“She’s your mother, Street.”

“And I’m not risking what I have with you for her manipulative schemes. I think I have to cut that tie before I give her something I can’t get back.”

You nod, frowning sympathetically. You feel uncomfortable giving input on the situation because it’s Street’s decision. As you hug him, he knows exactly what he has to do. His mom was scared of losing him, but she was going to be the one to drive him away.

“Is that why you called me a homewrecker earlier?” you ask against Street’s shoulder.

“Oh, yeah, she thinks you’re seeing other men. Just using me for my loyalty, good looks, and SWAT money.”

“Please,” you scoff. “That order is way off.”

Street gently pries your arms off of him and shakes his head. “Apparently you also called her a bad mother and if she were a fraction less manipulative and self-serving I’d think she was finally engaging in some reflection.”

“I’m sorry that your relationship is the way it is,” you offer. “But I’m here for you, no matter what you need.”

Street looks at the last cookie, and you smile as you nudge him toward it. Someone knocks on your door, and you leave Street’s side to answer it.

“Uh, I think it’s for you,” you murmur as you open the door wider.

Deacon, Hondo, Tan, Chris, and Luca walk into your home and look expectantly at Street.

“She didn’t like her,” he answers with a shrug. “Hondo was right.”

“Say that one more time?” Hondo requests, raising his phone to record it.

“No.”

“It smells good in here,” Luca whispers to you.

“There’s cookies and a cake in the kitchen,” you tell them. “I still can’t get that cake right. The one time I made a passable version, someone knocked it out of my window.”

Street prepares to defend himself, but you whisper, “Luckily for me, I fell in love with him.”

“So,” Hondo begins as he returns from the kitchen. “How’d it go with your mom?”

“As expected,” Street says quickly. He turns to you and says, “I love you, too.”

A few weeks later, you wait at your open door for Street to arrive. His mom is going back to jail for a parole violation, and his entire team came by your bakery today after a stressful day of saving lives and arresting domestic terrorists. Now, you want to provide Street with the comfort he gives you daily.

“I love you,” Street says as he hugs you.

“I love you,” you reply, brushing your hand over his hair. “Come on in, I have something I want to show you.”

Street nods, catches your falling hand, and follows you inside. Sitting on the counter is a cake that looks nearly identical to the one that brought you together.

“I didn’t get to taste the first one, so I need you to let me know if this is a redemption cake.”

Street forces you to take several pictures with the cake before he takes a small bite. His eyes widen, and he nods rapidly.

“It tastes similar, but even better,” he says. “Can we have this at our wedding?”

“Sure,” you answer with a smile.

Street offers you his fork, and you admit it’s a good cake.

“Speaking of our wedding,” you say after taking another bite, “your future groomsmen invited us to dinner at Deacon and Annie’s tomorrow.”

“I don’t know if I should introduce you to Annie.”

“We’ve already been texting.”

Street shakes his head and kisses you before reminding you that he loves you. "And the cake," he adds as he pulls back and steals another piece.

[beartitled]

Found your art through the STP Reddit and now I have a new TSPUD artist to enjoy!!! Your style is gorgeous :)

Reddit 🤨❔

I don’t have reddit

*sounds of paws tapping on the keyboard*

Aha repost with no permission I see? 🔍🐻‍❄️👓

This ask actually send me on a mini research lmao

I didn’t expect to see like 4 posts on Reddit with ppl posting my comics/sending a screenshot from ?Pinterest? and asking who the author is

That made me chuckle :'D

To be clear, I don’t really mind reposts if a person credits me

Always appreciate ppl askin permission 👍

For the reference: Reblog - a button that looks like this 🔄, shares a post on your page while showing the original author; Repost - when you screenshot/save someone’s art and post it on your page (ideally with credit, but if you’re a meanie you will just post images with no word about og author); Credit - a reference to the author «this art was made by [@author] on [this social media]». Sometimes see ppl mixing up terms 🫡

(Most of the time creators dislike reposts, bc it often leads to art theft)

Since we’re on the topic, specifically what I do have a problem with:

- Don’t use my art for AI training or for NFTs

- Don’t profit off my art (no merch is allowed without my approval, if you want to use my art for commercial purposes, this must be discussed with me in advance)

- Don't pass off my work as your own (here does reposting my art without credit, creating blogs/accounts impersonating me and so on)

- Don’t use my personal projects (this applies to my ocs, any original IPs/content I create: picture books, comics, artbooks, megadrawings etc. At some point in the future I may register a legal copyright for them btw.)

I’m more flexible and forgiving with fandom art, but still would appreciate ppl communicating with me. Fandom comic dubs - are welcomed, just be sure to credit me (tag me and share the final dub too man, I’m always interested). Fandom comic translations - ask permission first please.

This list is a pretty standard for any artist really, if you’re doubting something - feel free to ask 👍

If you see somebody breaking those/potentially breaking those - feel free to notify me 👍

I considered creating “blog rules” or “list of boundaries”, but I’m not sure if it’ll work on my blog 🤔 My header is pretty oversaturated as it is - portfolio, tags, navigation and so on; if I add rules to the pile, something tells me ppl won’t even look at it 💥 + I didn’t have specific issues with anyone yet (as far as I’m aware), I might create a list if something happens, but stayin hopeful for now

There’s certain things that do make me very uncomfortable/are triggering to me. But again didn’t have any specific issues where it was a huge problem + those stuff are highly personal to me to just put publicly. For now, I prefer to resolve issues personally, there wasn’t anything I couldn’t handle at this point 🫡 Mayhaps in the future it may change, we’ll see

Also some might have noticed that I don’t use any watermarks/signatures on my art, again considered that, but never ended up implementing that 🐻‍❄️ Some part of me just likes lookin at pictures in full HD quality with no watermark 😭 (I have an art signature, but I mostly use it in my mega drawings or if someone specifically asked for a commission lmao)

Sorry for a wall of text on such a sweet ask 💥 Just saw an opportunity to talk and took it lmao

Thank you, I really appreciate your words ❤️💕

Made a doödle of the narrator bois for the old time sake :D

Surprisingly there is a bunch of reposts of my art, with is a bit wild to me (you guys actually like my comics? 🤨 what? 🤨)

Especially never imagined my voices x princesses would get so popular 💥

Oh I see you went under read-more

Come closer

Closer

Just a smol step more

I forgot to draw Smitten’s brows in this specific frame

Now you will never unsee it 😈😈😈

*tiny mischievous bear giggling*

[docholligay]

@thoughtfulfuri sorry this took me so long! A revised list of books you should look into reading this year. I could have added more ahaha, but this will keep you plenty busy.

Deeply informed by your list and the brief of:  “Books that have deeply influenced the thrust of the genre and media broadly” 

I also went for breadth over depth--you had some authors with a TON of books on your list, and if you’re looking for understanding of media influence I’m not sure that’s the best use of your time. THis isn’t a perfect list but I think it’ll provide a better net than your original. I do not know what you have an haven’t read. Spots where I think you might have read my recommendation I supplied a second. An incomplete list, because no list is ever complete, and always has huge gaps in judgment. WE can always make a new list next year! 

Agatha Christie -- And Then There Were None This was already on your list and it’s perfect. I prefer Murder On the Orient Express, but in fairness, those are the only two Christie novels I’ve ever read. And I’d keep it to one from each author. 

The Art of War — Sun Tzu  From your list, I have no issue with it

Kurt Vonnegut -- Slaughterhouse Five  This is his best and most enduring work. IF you’re looking for incredible influence, this is the one. 

Octavia Butler -- Kindred  I winnowed down your multiple Butler works to this big hitter. 

Isaac Asimov -- I, Robot From your list, make total sense

Daphne DuMaurier -- Rebecca You had My Cousin Rachel, which is great fun, but Rebecca is THE DuMaurier book. 

Leo Tolstoy -- War and Peace I replaced Crime and Pnishment with this not because I don’t like Crime and Punishment, but because if you’re going to commit to a russian novel, you may as well make it the most influential one ever written. This is routinely hailed as the best fucking novel ever written. It is in fact great. I will reread it with you this year! 

Frank Herbert -- Dune. This is from your original list and it’s fine I guess. I think reading Dune is a waste of time unless you’re super into sci-fi, but I won’t fight it. 

JRR Tolkien-- The Fellowship of the Ring From your original list and yeah absolutely. Cannot hope to ujnderstand fantasy as a genre without reading this. If you like it I recommend the whole series, but Tolkien can be hard for people. 

Harper Lee -- To Kill A Mockingbird From your list. Yes, this is an incredibly important American piece. 

Jane Austen -- Pride and Predjudice. There is no more influential Austen novel. You gotta. If you’ve read P&P read Sense and Sensibility, which has the added benefit of being at least four times better (according to people named Doc, who are me, who do not like P&P) 

Ray Bradbury -- Fahrenheit 451. I actually prefer Something Wicked from your list, but F451 is much more influential. If you’ve read Farenheit, read 1984 by George Orwell. IF you’ve read that, read Brave New World by Huxley. If you’re read that, scrap totally, your list is very sci-fi weighted anyhow. 

Oscar Wilde -- The Picture of Dorian Gray. Replaced A Woman of No Importance, which most people haven’t even heard of, with Picture, a deeply and widely referenced novel. If you’ve read picture, read “The Importance of Being Earnest” or better, watch a proshot of a play. 

Gregory McGuire--- Wicked. I dunno that I think this deserves a spot on your list, but I get that everyone’s talking about it right now. And I like the book! But it’s just not very genre influential, it’s more deeply influenced BY the genre. I left it, because I get wanting to engage with everyone talking about it, but those are my reservations.

WE ARE OFF YOUR LIST TOTALLY NOW. So I took a bunch of repeats off your list. I admire wanting to track influential books, and broaden your understanding of media generally, but I think you were sorta getting into the weeds. So I added a few others that have huge media impact. 

Charles Dickens -- David Copperfield    Boy did this suck for me to try and pick. I fucking love Charles Dickens. He was a dick in a lot of ways, revolutionary in others, and the man could write his ass off. He knew how to write a serial style that also keeps track of itself, and there is stuff that blows my mind as a modern reader even now. (If I hadn’t unintentionally made last years book clubs essentially Brit Lit 2: Brit harder i would be doing a Dickens novel for book club. I do have an idea of theming this year as “The American Answer” so like, we did Brideshead last year and the, well, an, American answer to that book is the Secret History. Here On Earth for Wuthering Heights. I don’t know. Actually, there’s an AMerican restyling of David Copperfield in my to-reads for this year) BUT ANYWAY, I ended up picking David Copperfield. It was Dickens’ own favorite, it’s one of his only first person novels, and it is the clearest example of Dickens’ tendency to impress himself upon a character. It has its flaws, of course, but I think centering yourself on David, a nostalgic, emotional writer trying to make his way in the world up from poverty, gives you a great understanding of both Dickens’ incredible influence and his own understanding of HIMSELF. Wow that was a lot of words. I have feelings about Charles Dickens. Sorry. 

Toni Morrison -- Beloved I didn’t like this book, when I read it. But it is good, it won the fucking Pulitzer Prize. I think Song of Solomon is better for me though. Anyway, you have to read Toni Morrison. The way she weaves in the Black American experience with undertones of magical realism impacts the way stories of what I’m going to call “difficult narratives” are allowed to be told today, influencing even people outside of the Black community. 

Salman Rushdie -- The Satanic Verses A masterwork of parallel storytelling, people keep trying to kill Rushdie over this book, a fantastic story about the immigrant experience in Great Britian. 

And some genre stuff for flavor: 

Spy Novels:

Ian Fleming -- Casino Royale  You know who james fucking Bond is. He was a book character first! 

John LeCarre -- The Spy who Came in From the Cold Okay, I am gonna level with you that this and fleming are two opposite poles, but I think they are two opposite poles that give you a really good look at what the spy novel can be and has been. I really enjoy John LeCarre despite not being huge into the genre

Horror: 

Shirley Jackson -- The Haunting of Hill House  This is the novel that launched Stephen King of all people, among others. Jackson is a fucking genius. 

Stephen King -- The Shining Horror is hard, because I read and love a lot of it. But The Shining had a huge influence on both horror and the American consciousness broadly. 

Fantasy:

TH White-- The Once and Future King. Were you at the book club for this? I cannot fucking remember to save my own life. Anyway, if you weren’t, this and LoTR changed fantasy forever. Same time period, even. How we understand fantwasy broadly today comes out of how Tolkien and White were thinking of it. If you read this, read The Lion, The Witch, and the Wardrobe by CS Lewis. 

Grr Martin-- A Game of Thrones Oh, I’m gonna get letters. But genuinely this book changed the game in fantasy, and had a huge cultural impact on America and many other Western countries.

[foreverisntenough]

‘Movie Night’

Summary: If only life was like the movies. For years, you’d flirted with the idea of something more with Trent, your brother’s best friend.  You'd always danced around the edges of something more with him, sharing flirty moments that felt like scenes straight from the cinema. You had been silently desperate for the main character of your life’s film to finally get the boy but you knew moments like that were saved for Hollywood. The lines were clear; you were always going to be his mate’s little sister. So what happens when you go off script? In a whirlwind of passion, secrets, and stolen moments, you're left wondering: will you and your brother's best friend get the happy ending you've been waiting for, or was it never meant to be more than a fantasy? 

Index:

Warnings: This series is 18+ MDNI [ smut, dv, loss of a parent, drinking - not sure what else really… if i miss anything please lmk!

Note: Thank you for reading! Please be sure to like, comment, or message me what you think of the series!

Disclaimer: Still the same.

Chapter 22 - 'I'm Sorry' | ‘Movie Night'

word count - 11.1 k

You sat cross-legged on Trent’s bed, your phone resting limply in your hand as you watched your screen light up. Your phone rang with a call from Layla.  Your thumb hovered over her name, hesitant to answer. It continued to vibrate as you built up your courage.  You answered slowly, exhausted from the emotional rollercoaster you’d been on for days before her voice came through, soft and careful.

“Alright, babe?” she asked. Her tone alone made your chest tighten. You hesitated for a second, swallowing the lump in your throat before replying. 

“Yeah… uh, actually a little better. I need to see you to explain.” Your voice was small, weak even, but there was a flicker of resolve in it.

“Okay. Better is good,” Layla said gently, but her concern was palpable. There was a brief pause before she continued, almost sheepishly. “Just wanted to see if you saw that invite come through.” You frowned, confused for a moment before remembering the notification you’d ignored earlier. The invite from Shelby—one of your mutual friends—to a Manchester United end-of-season party. You’d skimmed it, immediately feeling your stomach drop at the thought of Josh possibly being there. “I’ll do what you want,” Layla continued, sensing your hesitation. “I imagine all those lads are going. I don’t want you going, obviously…” She expressed but you cut her off, your voice sharper than intended, you didn’t want to ruin the beginning of her summer.  

“Lay, you go. You and Shelbs will have fun. It’s just a big party. I just… I can’t be near—” You paused, your throat tightening at the thought of him. “Josh,” you finally said, his name burning your tongue. “I don’t know… I’m so scared of him, so please just be careful.” You cautioned her. Layla’s inhale was sharp. You could feel her anger brewing through the phone. 

“God, I’m so sorry, babe. I fucking hate him. But seriously, do you want me to come be with you tonight? I’m worried. I’m here for you.” She offered sincerely. You closed your eyes, her offer tempting, but you knew what you needed. You needed to stay put.  

“No, have fun. I… I…” You stuttered, trying to work up the courage to tell her your plans for the night. “I’m with T. I just need to be with him,” you admitted, your voice cracking as emotions began to resurface.

“Oh…” Layla paused, the shock evident in her tone. “So… you’re with him?” She asked curiously but not judgmentally. 

“Yeah.” You sighed, tears stinging your eyes again. “We’re… Or I… I just need to talk to him. Lay, Josh threatened him with a video of us. Somehow he got a video of me and him. It’s a total fucking mess. He said he didn’t hook up with Jess. And I’m terrified, but I just feel safer with him. I can’t go anywhere. I wa- I need to be with him.” You whimpered embarrassed by your dependency on Trent. The ebb and flow of your trust in him was expectedly concerning to your best friend. Layla’s response was immediate, her voice laced with fury. 

“Fucking hell. I’ll kill him.” She snapped imaging Josh’s smug look having a video like that in his possession. She paused when she heard your sharp inhale, realizing she needed to rein it in. “I’m sorry. I know. You are safe with Trent, Y/N. Be with him. He loves you.” She cooed. Her words offered some comfort, but you still felt unsteady and she could sense it. “Should I not…” she started, trailing off, you knew she’d not go tonight if you’d prefer that but it wasn’t what you wanted. 

“No, no, no,” you interjected quickly. “Please, go. It’s not like it’s his party or something. He can’t control everyone.” Layla nodded even though you couldn’t see her, your words sinking in. 

“Okay, but Josh can’t control you either, babe. We’ll handle this. Just be with Trent tonight. Someone who just wants to protect you.” Her voice softened as she reassured you.

“I love you,” you whispered, barely audible.

“Love you. You’re safe, babe. Call me anytime,” Layla said firmly, her support unwavering. When the call ended, the silence in Trent’s room felt deafening, but for the first time in a while, you didn’t feel entirely alone. Layla believed in you. Trent wanted to protect you. Maybe you could start believing in yourself again, too. The call ended, and you stared blankly at your phone, Layla’s words echoing in your mind: ‘You’re safe, babe. Call me anytime.’ The reassurance was meant to soothe you, but it only amplified the whirlwind of emotions swirling in your chest. You set the phone down on the edge of your bed, your fingers trembling slightly. You could feel the familiar sting of tears creeping back into your eyes, but you closed them tightly, willing yourself to stay composed. It wasn’t working. You leaned forward, pressing the heels of your palms into your eyes to stop the flood, but the effort only made the sob that escaped your throat sharper. Everything felt like too much—Josh’s threats, the fear that he still had control, the relief and heartbreak of being with Trent again. It was all tangling inside of you like a knot you couldn’t undo. You got up and made your way to the en-suite of his room in an effort to try to compose yourself before Trent came up for bed. 

The room felt heavy and silent, save for the faint hum of the air conditioning. It made the en-suite feel cold, sterile, like it was closing in around you. You sat on the edge of the sink, gripping the porcelain until your knuckles turned white. Your reflection stared back at you, pale and tear-streaked, eyes rimmed red. You barely recognized yourself. But then you noticed the earrings. The tiny gold butterfly pinned on your left ear, and the delicate blue one in your right. They shimmered faintly under the bathroom’s light, and your chest tightened. The earrings had been a gift from Trent, a token of the promise you’d made to each other when your relationship had finally begun. He had chosen them because they reminded him of you—fragile yet strong, beautiful, unique. But also your relationship; this evolving thing. Now, though, they felt like a cruel reminder of what you might lose. Your trembling fingers brushed over the butterflies, your heart aching as memories of that morning came flooding back. The way Trent had looked at you when he gave them to you, his voice soft as he told you how much you meant to him. How special you were. You’d been so happy, so sure that he was your safe place in a world that had hurt you too many times. Now, you didn’t know what to believe. You gripped the butterflies tighter, as if they could ground you. For a moment, you thought about taking them out—ripping away the reminder of everything that had fallen apart. But you couldn’t. Something in you refused to let them go. Maybe it was hope. Maybe it was the way Trent had looked at you earlier in the greenhouse, his eyes full of love and regret, like he’d carry the weight of your pain if he could. Or maybe it was the act that you felt like you got a momentary reminder from your mum there that he was good. You let out a shaky breath and placed your hands on the counter, trying to steady yourself. Slowly, you reached for the tap, splashing cold water on your face. The coolness jolted you back to the present, and you let out a deep exhale, watching the water drip down your reflection. The earrings still caught the light. A tiny flicker of beauty in the midst of your heartbreak. You couldn’t let Josh take this from you. You couldn’t let him win. You grabbed a towel and patted your face dry before turning toward the door. Trent would be waiting for you. For the first time in days, you allowed yourself to believe that maybe, just maybe, you could find your way through this. One fragile step at a time.

That night, as you curled into Trent’s chest, his familiar warmth began to ease the chill that had settled into your bones. His arm was draped securely around you, his fingers tracing idle patterns against your shoulder. The comfort of his touch usually calmed you, but tonight it wasn’t enough. Fear and worry churned in your chest, refusing to let you rest.

“Baby, I’m scared,” you finally whispered, your voice small and trembling. The admission felt heavy, like you were unburdening yourself but also laying bare your vulnerability. Trent’s hand stilled, and he pressed a kiss to the top of your head. 

“I know, pretty girl,” he murmured, his voice soft and soothing. “But I’m here. I’m not going anywhere. I’m so sorry I hurt you the other night. I never wanted to.” His apology tugged at your heart, but the knot of fear inside you refused to unravel. 

“He’s going to release it, T,” you said, your words barely audible as you tried to steady your breath. “If he finds out about us, he’ll release it.” Trent’s entire body tensed beneath you. His arm around you tightened, his jaw clenched, and you could feel the storm brewing within him. When he finally spoke, his voice was low and brimming with anger.

“I’m gonna fucking kill that lad,” he growled, the words cutting through the quiet room like a blade. “I am fucking fuming. I will fucking kill him. He can’t hurt you. He can’t fucking touch you.” His grip on you grew firmer, not out of aggression but out of his overwhelming need to protect you. Yet, in that moment, the intensity of his voice and the pressure of his hold sent you spiraling. Memories of Josh resurfaced like an unrelenting tide—his hands gripping you too tightly, his voice sharp and cruel, his presence suffocating and inescapable. Your breath hitched, and tears began to spill down your cheeks, hot and relentless. Your chest heaved with silent sobs as your body trembled against Trent’s. “Ah, fuck,” Trent muttered, his voice breaking as he realized what was happening. He immediately loosened his hold, his hands moving to cup your face and pull you back slightly so he could see you. “Fuck, pretty girl. Baby, baby, I’m so sorry,” he whispered, his voice thick with guilt. “I’m sorry for raising my voice. I didn’t mean to scare you. C’mere. I got you. I got you.” He wrapped you back into his arms, but this time his touch was featherlight, as if he were afraid of breaking you further. He pressed kiss after kiss into your hair, murmuring apologies and reassurances as you sobbed against his chest. “It’s okay,” he cooed, his lips brushing against your temple. “You’re safe with me, yeah? I’m here. I’ll always be here.” His words started to sink in, soothing the jagged edges of your fear. The rhythm of his heartbeat under your ear grounded you, steadying your breathing and slowing your tears. “What he’s doing is fucking extortion,” Trent muttered after a moment, his tone calmer but still resolute. “He can’t blackmail us. I’m speaking with Ty first thing. We’ll handle it legally. No one is taking my baby away from me. No one. Not now. Promise.” His words carried a sincerity—a vow that he would protect you at all costs. You sniffled, your face still buried in his chest, and nodded weakly.

“I’m sorry I’m such a mess,” you whispered, your voice hoarse from crying.

“Don’t you dare apologize,” Trent said, pulling back just enough to cup your face. His thumbs brushed away the tear tracks on your cheeks as he looked at you with an intensity that made your heart ache. “You’re my whole world, Y/N. I’ll do whatever it takes to keep you safe. I swear it.” You blinked up at him, the sincerity in his eyes anchoring you. His touch, so gentle and steady, reminded you that despite everything, this was the man who loved you unconditionally.

“You promise?” you asked softly, your voice cracking.

“I promise,” Trent said firmly, leaning down to press a soft kiss to your forehead. “I’ve got you, pretty girl. Always.” You exhaled shakily and let yourself melt into his arms again, his embrace wrapping you in a sense of safety you hadn’t felt in days. Despite the chaos that awaited, in this moment, you knew you weren’t alone but you couldn’t fight back the tears. Josh had hurt you too deeply. You were battered and cruises and the cracks in your resilience were starting to show. You were breaking down.

You buried your face deeper into Trent’s chest, your tears soaking through his shirt as you clung to him like he was the only thing tethering you to the earth. His arms wrapped around you firmly, one hand cradling the back of your head while the other traced gentle circles on your back. He didn’t speak much more at first, letting you cry. The weight of everything—Josh, the video, the fear, the shame, and even your own complicated feelings about Trent—poured out of you in waves. Each sob tore at his heart. Trent had never felt so helpless. He wanted to take all of it away: the pain, the fear, the scars left by people who should never have been close to you. But he knew he couldn’t. All he could do was hold you through it.

“I’m so sorry,” you whimpered after a long stretch of silence. Your voice was weak and strained, like the words were dragging out pieces of you as they left your mouth.

“Sorry? For what, baby?” Trent asked softly, his voice thick with emotion. He pulled back just enough to look at your tear-streaked face, his hands cupping your cheeks. His thumbs wiped away the tears as they fell, his eyes searching yours with a tenderness that made your chest ache.

“For… for being like this,” you whispered, ashamed. You couldn’t meet his eyes, staring instead at the fabric of his shirt where your tears had left dark stains. “For being such a mess. For making things so hard.” You kept on trying to rationalize your apology, hoping maybe he'd understand.

“Y/N, stop, serious,” he said gently but firmly, tilting your chin up so you couldn’t avoid his gaze. His eyes were glassy, the tears he’d been holding back threatening to spill. “Don’t you ever apologize for feeling. For hurting. For being human. You’re not a mess, pretty girl. You’re my girl. And I love you, okay? All of you. Every single bit.” The sincerity in his voice broke you all over again, and the tears started fresh. Trent pulled you back into his arms, rocking you slightly as he whispered reassurances. “You’re okay, baby. I’ve got you. I’m not going anywhere. Ever.” For a moment, you let yourself believe him. You let yourself trust that someone could hold you through your brokenness, that you didn’t have to hide or pretend. But as the minutes stretched on, the weight of Josh’s threats crept back in, darkening the tiny flicker of hope Trent had sparked in you.

“Baby, no, I’m scared,” you admitted, your voice muffled against his chest. “What if Josh does something? I’m serious, what if he releases the video? It would ruin you, T. Your career, your reputation… everything. I don’t know if I could handle that. I don’t want you to lose everything because of me.” Trent’s body tensed beneath you again, and for a moment, you felt the anger radiating off him. But when he spoke, his voice was steady, deliberate.

“Listen to me,” he said, pulling back just enough to look you in the eye again. “I told you. I’m gonna speak with Ty, but besides that… I don’t care about a video. I don’t care about my career, or what people think, or any of that. None of it matters if it means losing you. You hear me? You’re all that matters, Y/N. And I’ll do whatever it takes to keep you safe.” His words were like a lifeline, but they also scared you. The intensity of his love felt like a double-edged sword—comforting and terrifying all at once. You continued to cry into Trent’s chest. It felt like the fear of Josh ran deeper than his comforting embrace. But then you kissed his neck out of instinct. It was impulse. It was something you’d almost trained yourself to do. So many times you’d been upset in tear and had to put them aside for sex. You began kissing his neck. Trent’s body betrayed him. He felt all the blood rush down to his cock. You were turning him on but he didn’t want you to. He didn’t want you like this. Trent putting his hands on you felt terrifying. He felt like you were glass. He pulled away from you and your heart broke. It was like rejection all over again. Trent studied your face, his heart breaking as he saw the pain written in every inch of you. 

“Baby,” he whispered, his voice trembling. “I don’t want to hurt you. I need you to understand that.” His words made you freeze. His gaze wasn’t one of anger or frustration—it was pleading, desperate. He wasn’t trying to take anything from you; he was trying to stop you from giving away something you didn’t truly want to share in this moment. Your throat tightened, and a lump of shame built in your chest as the realization hit you. What you were doing wasn’t about love or desire—it was about survival, about falling back into a pattern Josh had ingrained in you. Sex had always been a way to pacify, to distract, to feel needed. Your hands had moved on instinct, exploring Trent as if you could erase the fear in your chest by drawing him closer. “I can’t believe what you’ve been through, baby,” Trent said softly, his voice pulling you out of your spiral. His hands gently caught yours, stopping them in their tracks as he looked into your eyes. “Please. Don’t do this because you think you have to. Not with me.” Trent pleaded, begging you to follow your heart and not your hands exploring him. Your heart shattered. You wanted so badly to bridge the gap between you and him, to feel close to him again. But your mind and your body felt like they were living in two entirely different worlds.

“Please want me,” you whispered, tears brimming in your eyes. Your voice cracked, the vulnerability in those three words raw and exposed. You hated how needy you sounded, but it was the truth. You wanted him to want you, to make you feel something other than the numbness that had taken hold of you. Trent’s jaw tightened, and for a moment, he hesitated. His love for you was at war with his fear of hurting you, but when he saw the tears rolling down your cheeks, he gave in. His lips found yours in a tender kiss, and for a moment, you let yourself believe it was what you needed. But as his hands brushed over your skin, the dense thud in your chest grew heavier. It didn’t feel right. It didn’t feel like him. The love and warmth you always felt when you were with Trent were nowhere to be found. This wasn’t passion; it was a mechanical act, an autopilot response. You were setting him up to take the bait, and he was taking it because he thought it would make you feel better but it felt like he’d lost a game you didn’t want him to even play. Deep down, you both knew this wasn’t what either of you truly wanted. It hurt in a way you couldn’t explain. Trent was nothing like Josh but right now you were acting like he was. 

Without another word, Trent had leaned in, his lips capturing yours in a slow, deliberate kiss. It was gentle at first, like he was testing the waters, but as soon as you responded, something shifted. His hands found their way to your waist, pulling you closer, like he couldn't bear the space between you. Your fingers tangled in his curls, gripping them as your body arched into his. The kiss deepened, no longer hesitant but filled with an urgency that neither of you could contain. It wasn't just desire-it was need. A desperate, unspoken plea to feel something other than the ache that had settled between you. His hands moved with purpose, slipping under your shirt, the warmth of his touch sending shivers down your spine. His fingers traced your skin like he was memorizing every inch, every curve. You gasped softly against his lips, and he took the sound as encouragement, his touch growing firmer, more confident. The tension in the room didn't dissipate-it lingered, heavy and unresolved-but it was joined by a different kind of intensity. The sadness and fear were still there, woven into the fabric of your movements, but they were eclipsed by the desperate need to be closer. To lose yourselves in each other, even if just for a moment. The air grew thick, filled with the sound of your breathing, the rustle of sheets as Trent shifted to press you further into the mattress. His lips left yours, trailing down your jawline, across your neck, leaving a trail of heat in their wake. You tilted your head back, giving him more access, a soft moan escaping your lips as his hands explored your body with reverence.

"Tell me you want this," he murmured against your skin, his voice husky and strained. "Tell me it's okay."

"I want this," you whispered, your voice shaky but certain. It was all he needed to hear. His lips were back on yours, hungrier this time, his body pressing into yours as if trying to merge you into one. Your hands roamed over his back, his shoulders, pulling him closer, deeper. The friction between you sent sparks through your veins, igniting something that had been smoldering for far too long. But even as things grew more heated, there was an undercurrent of something else. A sadness that neither of you could escape. This wasn't just about passion-it was about holding on. About finding some semblance of connection in the middle of the chaos. Trent continued kissing you, his lips moving with deliberate care as he shifted to hover over you, his large frame blanketing yours. His eyes searched yours, silently asking for reassurance even as his hand gently cupped your cheek. His touch was tender, as though you might bruise beneath the weight of his hands, and yet his need to be close to you was palpable. You didn't trust your voice, so you let your actions speak. Moving on instinct, you reached for the hem of your top, pulling it over your head in one swift motion. Left bare save for the soft fabric of your panties.  "Please." You whispered. Your voice was shaky but filled with yearning. Leaning up, you kissed along his jawline, your lips traveling to the warm column of his neck, nuzzling into his skin before you began to suck gently. Trent froze for a moment, his chest rising and falling unevenly. He took a deep breath, conflicted. He wanted to give you everything, but he also didn't want to push you or himself into something too fragile. Yet the way you clung to him, the way you pleaded, left him wondering if maybe this was how you both could heal. Slowly, tentatively, Trent removed his own clothes. His shirt came off, revealing the toned expanse of his chest, and soon the rest of your garments joined the pile on the floor. The cool air kissed your skin, but it was his hands, his lips, his touch that truly burned. Your hands roamed his chest, feeling the firm muscles under your fingertips, the rapid thrum of his heart. Reaching up, you wrapped your arms around his neck, tugging gently on the soft curls of his hair. He groaned softly at the sensation, his lips beginning their journey down your neck. He kissed your collarbone, leaving open-mouthed kisses in his wake, before traveling lower. When his lips finally closed around your nipple, you let out a desperate moan, arching your back to meet him. The warmth of his mouth, the gentle scrape of his teeth, sent shivers down your spine. His hand cupped your other boob, his fingers playing, pulling, and pinching with just the right amount of pressure. His eyes flicked up to meet yours, dark and filled with emotion, but he didn't stop. He lavished attention on your sensitive skin, his kisses, touches, and the slight rasp of his stubble making you feel electric. You buried your hands in his hair, holding him to you, desperate to keep the connection alive. His hands slid down your sides, rough yet gentle as they traced every curve, as though memorizing every inch of you. When his lips left your chest to continue their descent, you shivered, overwhelmed by the intensity of his attention, the way he worshipped you.

"You okay?" he murmured softly against your skin, his breath warm and ragged. You nodded, biting your lip as tears pricked the corners of your eyes-not from pain but from the sheer vulnerability of it all. 

"Just... don't stop," you whispered, your voice trembling.

"I've got you," Trent promised, his voice husky, filled with an emotion that made your heart clench. "I've got you, baby. Tell me you want this.” Trent mumbled against your skin. You nodded with a whine as he lined his cock up with your entrance. Your arms wrapped around his neck tightly begging for him to come inside. He rubbed the tip of his hard cock leaking precum against your sopping wet folds. You shouldn’t have been turned on. In a way this was exactly the way Josh had trained you. Your heart aching, sadness engulfing you, and yet your body acting completely normal, inviting him in with vigor. You shifted beneath him to pick your hips up allowing him to guide himself inside with more ease. He moved slowly inch by inch letting you adjust to his size but he just wanted to get as deep as possible until he bottomed out. You gripped the sheets in an attempt to ground yourself at the stretch. The feeling was enough to wipe your mind clear of anything other than how he was making you feel.  As wrong as it was, you both craved this. He kissed down your neck as he pulled out slightly before easing back in slower, fully burying himself one more.  “I love you so much.” He whispered. Trent rested his forehead against yours but you couldn’t look at him. You felt like you were going to cry so you kept your eyes shut. Your head tipped back onto the pillow with one hand squeezing your own nipple as Trent kept his strokes steady. You tipped your head back further as his pace became more relentless. Your jaw slack, eyes closed tight. 

“I love you.” You whimpered with a sniffle as a tear rolled down your cheek. Trent swallowed, feeling a lump form in his throat. He cupped your cheek wiping away the tear. 

“I’m here. Right here.” He murmured. He knew you didn't want to stop. You would’ve been more upset if he did. So you continued on. There was no other noise in the room but the sound of heartbreak and your slickness as he fucked his cock slowly and gently into you. Your legs stayed wrapped around him tightly as you let one of your heels drag down his muscular back, making sure he didn’t pull out but your tears continued falling, your body shaking a little. If anyone else did this he would be confused and probably turned off but he understood you, he understood the lustful desire and unfortunately the aching pain in your chest that he was feeling too. He leaned over you, your tear stained cheeks and heaving chest pressed against him as he continued to fucked you gently. Your pussy dripped around him. Trent could feel the veins running along his cock throbbing. He worked his hips faster, harsher. Both of your pleasure building higher and higher. 

“T... I’m… I’m going to cum” You mewled and he felt dizzy from the sound of his name sounding so weak from your softly parted lips. He groaned, feeling himself barreling close to his own release though from the way you were squeezing his cock now. Your body succumbing to pure euphoria and seeing white. He bit down onto your shoulder, his pace growing sloppy. 

“Cum for me baby. Doing so good for me.” he cooed, nipping at your collarbone. You whined and felt your eyes roll back as you reached your high. Your pussy quivered around him.  Every little shift was orgasmic. You couldn’t hold in the soft whiny cry you let out. Your lips parted, biting the skin of his neck. Your pussy was sopping wet now, the slow and intense movements had you gushing all over him. The sex was so tender and sweet yet equally sad. “Gonna cum, yeah? That okay?” He asked you through a strained voice as you held onto him. You could only nod again, tears reappearing, toes curled before everything went white, falling apart. Despite the emotional turmoil, he felt so good and you didn’t want him to pull out. This felt too good. His thrusts began to slow as he buried himself deeper inside you. He gripped you so tightly, holding you completely flush against him. Stilling as his warm cum pumped deep inside of you. His hands rubbed your trembling slightly sweaty body in the softest way. He kissed you everywhere he could. You just stayed tight to him refusing to break away.  “You alright, baby?” Trent whispered, his voice soft and full of concern as he hovered over you. His fingers brushed your cheek gently, his thumb catching a stray tear. His dark eyes searched your face, taking in every detail—the way your cheeks were flushed, your lips trembling, and your eyes squeezed tightly shut, as if holding back a flood. You nodded quickly, unable to trust yourself to speak. Your throat felt tight, and you knew that if you tried to answer him, your voice would crack, betraying just how fragile you felt in this moment. The weight of everything—of your past, your pain, and the overwhelming tenderness of the man above you—pressed against your chest. Trent’s brow furrowed, his concern deepening as he leaned closer. “Baby,” he urged gently, his warm breath fanning over your face. Your lips parted slightly, as if you wanted to say something, but no words came out. Instead, you reached up, your fingers curling around his wrist as his hand remained on your cheek. It was your silent plea to stay close, to not pull away. “I’m right here,” he reassured you, his voice cracking slightly with the weight of his own emotions. His thumb continued to stroke your cheek, grounding you. “I’ve got you, yeah? Always.” Your breath hitched, a fresh wave of tears slipping from your closed eyes. You hated feeling this vulnerable, hated that you couldn’t hide the rawness inside you, but Trent’s presence made it bearable. His love wrapped around you like a shield, softening the sharp edges of your fear and sadness. Finally, you opened your eyes, meeting his gaze. His expression was so full of love and patience that it broke something inside you. 

“I’m so sorry,” you cried, your voice barely audible but nonetheless broken. Trent stayed on top of you, his weight grounding you even as the guilt began to creep in. His breathing was still heavy, matching yours, and his curls tickled your skin as he rested his face between your boobs, his warm breath fanning over your damp skin. The room was quiet save for the sound of your heartbeats slowing, the intensity of the moment dissipating into an uncomfortable stillness. Neither of you spoke any more after your vacant apology. There were no words for the complicated knot of emotions tightening in your chest. For a while, you simply lay there, your fingers brushing lightly through his hair, but even that small gesture felt hollow. It wasn't comfort. It wasn't resolution. Eventually, Trent stirred, his lips brushing against your collarbone in a fleeting touch. He lifted his head slowly, his eyes dark with something you couldn't quite name-sadness, maybe, or regret. Without a word, he shifted, carefully pulling out of you, his body leaving yours cold in the absence of his warmth. The air completely sucked out of the room. He rolled off of you and onto his back, staring up at the ceiling. The weight of everything hung heavy in the room, pressing down on both of you, suffocating in its intensity. The physical high you'd just shared only amplified the emotional low settling between you. You turned your head to look at him, your eyes scanning his profile-the way his jaw clenched, the way his chest rose and fell in uneven breaths. He looked as though he wanted to say something but couldn't bring himself to.

"T," you whispered, your voice soft but strained. He didn't respond right away. His hand came up to rub over his face, and when he finally spoke, his voice was hoarse. 

"I'm so sorry." He murmured into the empty silence of the dark room.

"For what?" you asked, your own guilt weighing heavily on you.

"For... this," he said, gesturing vaguely between you but he didn’t turn his head towards you, his gaze stayed fixated on the ceiling. "For not stopping. For letting it happen when I knew... when I knew it wasn't what you needed right now." He sheepishly told you. Your heart ached at his words because they felt true, and yet you couldn't bring yourself to regret it fully. He was not Josh, he didn’t want what just happened. Not like that. It felt wrong. Josh relished in using you for sex to rectify problems, to act like he cared, but all you did was just create a new one with Trent. He was hurting.

"I asked for it, T. I wanted it." You earnestly told him. That was true. You did want it, but why and what for, was a glaringly obvious reg flag. A remnant of Josh’s disgusting conditioning. The only way he could possibly love you was if you fucked hin, and so you did the same with Trent. It was fucked up. You watched him blink a few times, his perfectly curled dark eyelashes batting away what you prayed wasn’t the build up of tears. Even though he wouldn’t turn to look at you, you could still perfectly make out that his eyes were filled with turmoil. 

"But did you need it? Did it help, or did it just... make things worse?" He asked you pleadingly. He knew you wanted to have sex with him. It wasn’t about the consent of the act but rather the consciousness of it. The question hung in the air, and you didn't have an answer. You both laid there with the other, the silence between you louder than any words could be. Neither of you could shake the feeling that you'd both taken a step further away from the connection you were trying so hard to hold onto. The room fell silent for a long while after that. Trent lay motionless, his chest rising and falling unevenly as his mind raced. The dim light cast shadows on the ceiling, but his eyes were unable to focus. He couldn’t wrap his head around the blur between the physical sensations still humming through his body and the weight of the emotional aftermath sinking into his heart. He couldn't reconcile it-how his body could feel one thing, while his heart ached with the opposite. His arms rested limply at his sides, too heavy to move. The thin sheen of sweat cooling on his skin only made him feel exposed, raw. Tears welled in your eyes, and you turned your head away momentarily, unable to look at him anymore. You felt defeated, ashamed, and more alone than ever-even with him right next to you.

"T.." Your voice broke through the thick silence once over, soft but trembling. He hummed in response, his throat dry. But he didn't turn his head to look at you still. He couldn't not yet. Guilt clawed at his chest, despite everything. You asked for this yet it felt cold. You wanted it. He hadn't forced you-but why did it feel like he'd done something wrong? "Did you love her?" you whispered, your voice so small it almost disappeared into the air between you. The question hit him like a blow. He blinked, the ceiling above him suddenly too sharp, too vivid. He exhaled sharply but still didn't meet your gaze. His lips parted, but no words came out at first. Not because he didn't have an answer, but because he was overwhelmed-confused, emotional, and drowning in a wave of guilt and frustration. You couldn't stop yourself. You stared at him, inspecting every detail of his face. The way his bottom lip hung slightly gaped from the top, the tense line of his jaw, the crease in his brow. He laid there feeling hollow despite his best efforts to help. You needed to understand him, to break past the wall he seemed to be building in this silence. The insecurity was clawing at your insides, threatening to consume you. Your past haunted you and right now it was seeping into your present. The way Josh had rewired you to think all men were, had you fearing Jess. She was the ghost in the room you couldn't escape. All you could think about was her-her presence in Trent's life before you, the ways she might have had touched him, been with him, loved him. You hated it. Your thoughts spiraled into a desperate need to prove yourself to him, to make him see why you were different. Why you were better. You'd done everything-fought for him, forgiven him, fucked him, even begged him. You wanted to show him that you would do anything for him. But now, as you lay beside him, all you felt was a hollow emptiness. The act that was supposed to bring you closer had only widened the gap, leaving both of you in the cold. This was new to you because this time, the man next to you in bed truly cared.  Finally, Trent turned his head to look at you. His eyes were red-rimmed, a storm of emotions swirling in them-confusion, sorrow, regret.

“Never.” Trent finally muttered, his voice barely above a whisper, the only other sound were the sheets shifting beneath you pillowing his words. He cupped your cheek and made you look at him, really look at him. Trent’s hand stilled on your cheek as your words lingered in the air, cutting through the fragile peace between you. His chest rose sharply with a deep, steadying breath, but the storm brewing behind his soft brown eyes betrayed him. “Not even close,” he repeated, his voice firm but strained, as if clinging desperately to the truth of his feelings. His thumb brushed against your skin, grounding himself in the contact, but you could feel the tension in his hold—the way he was barely keeping it together. “Look at me,” he whispered, tilting your face gently so your eyes met his. The weight of his gaze made it impossible to retreat further, even though every instinct told you to. You wanted to hide, to shield yourself from how raw, how real this moment was becoming. But in a moment of vulnerability… you felt yourself pull away from him. You knew Trent was different. This was different. You couldn’t fix things or gain anything by using sex as a bandaid like you did with Josh, not when real feelings were at play and so the only thing you could do was set it on fire in an effort to protect yourself. 

“Did you ever think that maybe… maybe we shouldn’t be together?” you asked, the words falling from your lips without forethought, sayinging something you didn’t even think about. It wasn’t what you wanted to say. It wasn’t what you felt deep down. But it was easier to let those words fill the space than to confront the fear twisting inside you. Trent flinched as if you’d struck him. His blood going ice cold. He didn’t know how to convince you this was right when in the moment you were making it feel so very wrong. You were hurting but now so was he. Trent really thought when he just turned to look at you things would be better, not worse. It was quiet. The silence of the room was deafening. His hand faltered for a moment before settling back on your cheek, his touch softer now, almost hesitant. 

“Why would you say that?” he asked quietly, his voice barely audible over the heavy stillness in the room. You swallowed hard, your throat burning with unshed tears. His jaw tightened and he shut his eyes and you watched his eyelashes lay on his cheek for a moment longer than comfortable, shielding himself from the hurt; as if he was bracing for impact and so you took the final blow. 

“You said you didn’t want to take advantage…” you whispered, your voice cracking. It wasn’t what you meant, not really, but you knew the weight of those words would land, and you hated yourself for using them. You didn’t mean it but you knew what you were doing. You didn’t know why you were doing it but it was happening nevertheless. You were letting this relationship go up in flames with an ease you loathed. An ease Josh made you have and now you were letting the flames engulf Trent with you. Trent’s eyes snapped open, wide and glassy with disbelief. He searched your face as if trying to find some hint that you didn’t mean it, that this was all a misunderstanding. The weight of the night settled heavily between you. It was unbearable, suffocating, like the air had been vacuumed out of the room. You both laid completely still. You felt like you were tearing down the house you’d built together—stripping it bare, brick by brick, without even meaning to. Ripping the walls out, slashing the pipes and yet only his silence and heartbeat made a sound. There was no shouting, no anger, no big crash. Just the quiet dismantling of something fragile, something that felt too precious to lose but too painful to hold onto in the moment. His silence pierced through you, and yet, it wasn’t cold—it was sorrowful, the kind of quiet that spoke volumes about his own inner turmoil. Trent's hand, which had dropped to rest on your arm, tightened slightly on your arm, his heart aching at the sound of your pain. 

“If you feel like I’m taking advantage of you,” Trent finally whispered, his voice raw and achingly soft, “if you feel like I’m in control of this in a way that you’re not… we can’t do this. I won’t.” His hand on you withdrew slowly. It wasn’t harsh, but it left a hollow ache in its absence, as though he were pulling back to keep from causing more damage. There it was. The white flag you indirectly and subconsciously pushed him to raise. He was defeated. He couldn’t win. He felt powerless. He felt so awkward. Like if he touched you again it would change your perspective but if he didn’t it would do just the same. You had dismantled something so quietly, so swiftly. He exhaled deeply, his breath shaky, like he was trying to keep himself from crumbling entirely. It felt like there were worlds between you to now, when in reality it was mere inches but as the night engulfed the room, Trent moved from facing you onto his back creating a distance that felt like something you may never be able to close. Trent’s words hung in the air like the faint echo of a storm, their quiet weight pressing down on you as he pulled away. The warmth of his hand left your skin, replaced by an emptiness that seemed to seep into the space between you. His quiet resolve settled over the room like a suffocating blanket. You had spent so long trying to survive, to appease, to navigate a world where love meant control and touch often felt like an obligation. And yet, here he was—letting you go, even if it broke him. Trent’s restraint wasn’t rejection; it was love. It was understanding. But it hurt all the same. 

“I’ve only ever been in love once… I’ll only ever be in love once. And that’s with you.” he murmured, his gaze fixed on the ceiling. His voice cracked slightly, and the sound shattered you. Your heart clenched painfully at his confession. The vulnerability in his words was unbearable, and yet you couldn’t bring yourself to meet his eyes. You stared at his profile, the way his lashes rested against his cheek when he blinked, the tension in his jaw as he tried to steady himself. “Just… take your time,” he added, his voice quieter now, almost inaudible. And then, with the finality of someone who had resigned themselves to the pain, he rolled over, his head resting on his pillow. You watched him, the way he clutched the pillow beneath his head as though it was the only thing keeping him grounded. His back was to you now, and it felt like a wall you couldn’t scale, no matter how much you wanted to reach for him. “I just don’t want to hurt you,” he whispered again, so softly you weren’t sure if it was meant for you or for himself. His words hung in the air, heavy and unresolved, as the night overtook the room. Trent wasn’t like Josh. He wasn’t trying to control you or force you into anything. But in that moment, the weight of your past, the weight of your fears, was too much for either of you to carry alone. And as he lay there, quiet and still, you realized just how much you had both been hurt in ways neither of you fully knew how to heal. You watched the way his shoulders rose and fell with each deep breath, steady but strained. It wasn’t just awkwardness you felt—it was guilt, raw and biting, clawing at your chest. You wanted to speak, to reassure him, to take back the words you didn’t even mean, but your throat felt like it had closed up.in an effort to save yourself you had somehow managed to cut off the only thing that was keeping you alive. Trent had let you go, the chasm in the bed now was too much to breach. The silence between you was deafening, punctuated only by the faint sounds of the night filtering in through the window. It was strange how a room could feel so full of unspoken emotions yet so achingly empty at the same time.

The morning light filtered softly through the curtains, casting a warm glow over the room that felt at odds with the tension between you. The quiet was almost suffocating, the kind of silence that held so much unsaid. Despite the turmoil of the night before, your bodies had instinctively found each other, seeking comfort in a way words couldn’t offer. You’d spent hours wrapped around one another, as if letting go would mean accepting what neither of you wanted to face. Trent’s arms had stayed around you, his heartbeat steady beneath your ear, grounding you even as your mind raced. The morning finally had arrived, it felt like an unspoken truce, a shared understanding that this moment, however fleeting, couldn’t last. You stayed in bed longer than usual, the weight of reality pressing down on both of you. Trent’s fingers traced absent patterns on your arm, and neither of you spoke, afraid to shatter the fragile peace. When you finally sat up, the loss of his touch was immediate and jarring.

Getting dressed felt mechanical. Each movement slow and deliberate, as if prolonging the inevitable goodbye. By the time you made your way downstairs, the air between you had shifted. You could feel his eyes on you, but you couldn’t bring yourself to meet them. At the door, you hesitated, your hand resting on the handle. Your throat was tight, the words you wanted to say lodged somewhere deep inside. 

“T…” you whispered, your voice trembling. He was leaning against the counter, his arms crossed over his chest, his jaw tight. He didn’t respond immediately, his gaze fixed on a spot just beyond you. It wasn’t that he didn’t hear you—he was trying to hold himself together, to keep from begging you to stay, from saying something that might push you further away. When he finally looked at you, his eyes were heavy with emotion. 

“Yeah?” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. You swallowed hard, your fingers tightening around the strap of your bag. 

“I… I just want to say thank you. For… for last night.” Your voice cracked, and you looked away, your own emotions threatening to overwhelm you. It was all you could say. What had transpired last night couldn’t be encapsulated in a sentence or two. Your feelings for him, the hurt you felt would fill volumes and so you settled for a thank you. Trent shifted, his body tensing as if he was fighting every instinct to close the space between you. 

“You don’t have to thank me,” he said softly, his voice tinged with sadness. “I just… I just want you to be okay.” You nodded, your eyes stinging with unshed tears. 

“I don’t know what okay looks like right now,” you admitted, your voice breaking. He took a cautious step towards you. 

“I know, pretty girl,” he replied, his words careful, measured. The pet name hurt. He sympathetically smiled at you but it was insincere. His heart was in pieces, shattered on the floor right next to yours. “But you know I’m here, right? No matter what… I’m here.” His words broke something in you, and you glanced back at him, finally meeting his eyes. He was being mature and understanding and it hurt. The depth of his care, his pain, and his love was laid bare, and it was almost too much to bear.

“I know,” you whispered, tears welled up in your eyes, ready to spill over. “I’m sorry. I don’t know how to be loved like this. I’m just so sorry I’m hard to love,” you confessed, your voice cracking under the weight of your emotions.  “I don’t know how to feel safe and not push you away when I do.” You whimpered as the tears slipped down your cheeks. Trent’s jaw tightened, his heart breaking as he watched you crumble in front of him. He took a deep breath, steadying himself, before pulling you into him. His arms enveloped you, one circling your waist while the other cradled the back of your head. You pressed your face into his chest, your tears dampening his shirt but he didn’t care, not one bit. He kissed the top of your head, his lips lingering there as if trying to transfer every ounce of his love and reassurance. 

“You are the easiest girl to love, pretty girl. And I will love you in whatever way and any way you need me to love you,” he whispered into your hair, his voice steady despite the ache in his chest. His grip tightened slightly, as though he was memorizing the feel of you in his arms, just in case it would be the last time. “Forever, it’s you,” he murmured, his words so soft they were almost lost in the quiet of the room. “Just please know that will never change, no matter what you decide you want.” Your breath hitched and you sobbed into his chest, overwhelmed by his words, by the way he loved you so unconditionally. 

“I love you,” you whimpered, the words breaking as they left your lips. He closed his eyes, his own tears threatening to fall as he held you. 

“I know, baby. I know,” he whispered back, rocking you gently as you cried. “And that’s enough for me.”

The house was alive with chaos—a sea of bodies swaying to deafening music, flashing lights bouncing off the walls in a kaleidoscope of color. Conversations were drowned out by the thrum of bass, laughter spilling over in waves as the party hit its peak. Layla stood in the center of it all, a drink in hand, but her focus was fractured. Her chest felt tight, as if a weight pressed against it, the absence of you palpable. You weren’t here, and while you’d told her to have fun, it didn’t feel right. Still, she pushed through. You needed her to, even if she didn’t fully understand why. Fifteen songs later and five drinks deeper, Layla felt the alcohol warm her insides, dulling some of her guilt but sharpening her resolve. She scanned the room, her sharp eyes skipping over familiar faces until they landed on Devon, standing by the edge of the kitchen, drink in hand, smirking as he caught her gaze. Josh wasn’t here yet—or at least, she hadn’t spotted him—but Devon would have to do. He was Josh’s friend, and as much as Layla disliked him by association, he was her best shot at getting answers. He was handsome, she was hot, they’d met a few times before and maybe there might’ve been some chemistry there but really there was only one reason driving Layla that night. She didn’t trust him, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t use him.

Their banter had started easily enough, a few playful comments traded back and forth. Devon leaned in close, his lips hovering near her ear as if he had to compete with the music, but Layla knew it was more than that. He was testing the waters, his hand brushing hers just lightly enough to be suggestive.

“I think we’re crossing enemy lines here,” he teased, his voice low and full of charm. Layla smirked, meeting his gaze with a confidence she didn’t entirely feel. 

“I’ll cross any line you want,” she whispered, leaning in close, her breath warm against his cheek. “But let me borrow your phone first. I just need to text my friend before we leave.” Devon blinked, caught off guard by the sudden shift, but the bait was too tempting to resist. He handed over his phone without hesitation, his smirk deepening. 

“Make it quick, yeah?” he said, his tone dripping with suggestion. Layla turned on her heel, spinning away with a flirtatious glance over her shoulder. Devon’s gaze stayed glued to her as she made her way toward the hallway, phone in hand, pretending to type. She could feel the heat of his eyes on her, but as soon as she rounded the corner, her facade dropped. Her fingers moved swiftly, navigating his phone with practiced ease. She scrolled through messages, DMs, and photos, her heart pounding in her chest as she searched for anything—any hint, any clue that could tie Devon or Josh to what had happened to you. She dug deeper and deeper, her frustration mounting as nothing turned up. She huffed, leaning against the wall. The blue light of the phone screen illuminated her features in the dark hallway, casting shadows under her eyes that betrayed her exhaustion. Layla was starting to second-guess her plan as the party raged around her. The house felt suffocating, the music thundering through her chest as if it was synced to her racing heartbeat. Layla was so invested in her hunt she barely noticed Devon coming to lean lazily against the wall beside her, a smirk tugging at his lips as he watched her hold his phone.

“You find what you’re looking for, or are you just trying to steal my playlist?” he teased, his voice low and laced with amusement. Layla forced a playful laugh, flipping her hair over her shoulder to buy herself a moment. Her fingers worked quickly, scrolling out of his apps and messages, trying to stay one step ahead of Devon’s curiosity.

“I’m just making sure you’re not boring,” she shot back, her tone teasing but with a slight edge of distraction. Devon raised an eyebrow, intrigued. 

“Trust me, babe, I’m anything but boring.” He cooed. Layla ignored his cocky response. Devon noticed her change in demeanor, his smirk fading as he pushed off the wall and stepped closer. “You alright?” he asked, his tone shifting slightly to one of genuine concern. Layla forced a smile again and handed his back to him as casually as she could. 

“Just had to make sure my girls know I’m with you. Don’t want them thinking I’ve disappeared.” She cooed, turning into him. Devon grinned, clearly pleased with her response. 

“Disappeared, huh? I’ll make sure you stay right where I can see you.” He leaned into her pinching at her waist. She giggled swatting at his hand with a sloppy smile. Maybe it was the alcohol, but a part of her kind of wanted to actually go home with Devon. She didn’t find anything incriminating, he was sort of sweet and definitely handsome. Her mind was racing though, the threads were unraveling, but the knot at the center was still tied too tightly. She needed to find out more. She was committed for you… and maybe there was a little bit in it for her now. So she played along, laughing at Devon’s jokes and letting him guide her through the crowded house. Her focus drifting from being laser-sharp, every glance, every word a calculated move with intent to something a bit looser.  She’d come here for answers, and she knew Devon had to know something so maybe spending a little more time with him wouldn’t hurt. 

The soft hum of Devon’s snores filled the dimly lit bedroom. Layla sat up slowly, careful not to disturb him, and slipped his phone from the bedside table. Her pulse quickened as she padded to the en-suite bathroom, the door creaking slightly as she shut it behind her. She pressed her back to the wall and sank to the floor with a deep breath. Her fingers trembled as she unlocked the phone. Devon had been easy to charm, he actually wasn’t so bad, nice in fact, but what she held in her hand right now would tell her the harsh reality, what he really knew. 

The room was dark, the blue light burning her eyes as she scrolled in Devon’s phone, sat on the floor. Scrolling through his messages again Layla’s breath became unsteady, uneven. Her pulse quickened as she skimmed through group chats and threads. Still, there was nothing that immediately jumped out as damning. She finally decided to go back to Devon’s messages with Josh, her hands trembling slightly. The messages were cryptic as she delved deeper. It felt like she was missing something, a part of their puzzle, so she continued to scroll. She almost didn’t want to find more context, even the thought made her stomach churn but she had to do this. Her grip tightened on the phone as she scrolled faster, reading more and more messages. Her eyes darted over the screen, piecing together fragments of a conversation. 

“Fuck,” she muttered under her breath, shaking her head. But just as she was about to give up, something caught her eye—an attachment buried deep in their thread of texts. Layla’s vision blurred with anger and panic. She shut her eyes tight. She could feel her heart hammering in her chest. There it was: a screenshot of an Instagram DM from Jess to Josh, and then, her stomach dropped—the video attached. The video of you. You, on your knees for Trent, vulnerable in a way that made Layla’s blood run cold. She felt sick.  Her hand flew to her mouth, stifling the gasp that escaped her lips as tears stung her eyes. The room felt heavier than the silence that followed. Layla sat with her knees pulled to her chest, the dim blue light of the phone casting ghostly shadows on her face. She couldn’t stop trembling. The weight of what she’d seen, and what it meant, pressed down on her like a tidal wave.

“You really are interested in my phone, huh? Find anything good?” Devon’s tired voice shattered the silence, making her jump. Layla turned, looking up at him, fumbling the phone as she tried to recover. 

“Fuck… I was just—” She stumbled out words.  Devon leaned against the doorframe, his arms crossed, watching her with an expression that was far too calm for her liking. He had a sleepy smile that was handsome but it couldn’t mask what was on his phone. 

“You find that screenshot of the video Jess sent?” he asked, his tone softer than she expected. He smirked but not smugly. He smirked in a way that was sympathetic. His eyebrows raised as if he himself couldn’t even believe he had seen what she sent. He assumed that's what she was looking for. It was really the only thing that tied him and Layla together. The only reason they knew one another. Layla’s jaw dropped in surprise though that he knew it existed at all and still had the audacity to try to be with her.

“So Jess actually sent that... and you've seen it?” Layla asked again, her voice cracking. She needed him to confirm it—needed him to say it out loud so it felt real. Devon sighed, running a hand over his hair, his expression torn between guilt and discomfort. He shrugged, sliding down the wall to sit beside her. 

“I haven't seen it, no. But. yeah… she sent it to Josh. I don’t know why. Guess she wanted to stir shit up.” He cooed gently looking only at Layla, not his phone that she currently was planning on holding ransom until she got answers. Layla glared at him, her chest heaving with frustration. 

“You’re lying.” Her voice wavered, sharp and accusing. 

“Look, baby, I don’t know what’s going on there, but I’m keeping my hands clean. I don’t want any part of it.” Devon tried to explain his arm reaching out towards her knee but Layla winced at the pet name. Her eyes narrowed, her anger bubbling over. 

“Well, you are playing a part, Devon. You know Josh has that video—of Y/N and Trent, two people in a relationship, in love—and he’s using it to blackmail them. That makes you complicit.” She harshly bit back. He paused for a moment. He didn’t know you and Trent were a couple, let alone in love. He saw you at dinner once, but people go on dates all the time. The only things he heard were from Josh’s perspective. And in his opinion you weren’t allowed to be with Trent. In fact, you wanted Josh instead.

“I didn’t know they were properly together,” Devon muttered, his voice quieter now, guilt flashing across his face. 

“They shouldn’t have to be,” Layla snapped, shoving the phone back into his hands. Her tears were threatening to spill over now, her emotions a tangled mess of fury and heartbreak. “And they fucking can’t be if he has this. This is fucked up, Devon. You’re letting him ruin someone’s life, and you just sit back like it’s nothing? I don’t understand how you can be okay with that.” She whimpered.  Devon winced, the weight of her words visibly sinking in. He leaned back against the cold wall, his hands rubbing his face. 

“Fuck… I’m sorry. You’re right,” he whispered finally. Layla sniffled trying to keep herself together. She was aching for you. “I should’ve done something, stopped it. I just… I didn’t want to get involved. It’s Josh, you know? I mean yeah, I see him a lot, were on the same squad but I try not to fuck with him too much.” Devon weakly tried to explain. Layla’s tears started to spill, her voice growing more impassioned. 

“She’s my best friend, Devon! Do you even understand what this is doing to her? He’s blackmailing her. That video—it’s not just some stupid gossip. It could ruin everything for them… For Trent. And you’re just sitting here pretending like you’re not part of it? Like imagine if someone had a video of you and sent it to the fucking media… Because that's what he's doing. People's private relationship being broadcasted publicly and used to hurt them. Imagine what they feel right now that people like you even have fucking screenshots of this.” Layla yelped with a little more force. Devon sat still, the seriousness of her words bearing down on him. 

“I… I didn’t know it was like that. I didn’t think about it that way,” he said softly. Layla’s comment had landed. Devon felt stupid. He didn’t really know nor care for Trent, they played for rival clubs too after all, but the sentiment still stood. He understood this wasn't the little tiff he dubbed it to be before. He realized what Josh was threatening Trent with. “I thought it was just… I don’t know, some drama between exes that didn’t involve me. I didn’t… I didn’t think of how damaging it could be.” Devon spoke earnestly.

“It is,” Layla shot back, wiping her tears angrily. “And if you care at all…” She shook her head and took a deep breath attempting to compose herself. “You know, maybe about me.” She said unexpectedly to even herself. Maybe she had developed more feelings for Devon then she realized or maybe she was using it as leverage- she couldn't decide but she didn’t care, that wasn't the focus right now. You were. “Or just being a fucking good person and do the right thing, you need to help me fix this.” She pleaded. Devon looked at her, his liable gaze meeting her hurt one. For a moment, it was just the two of them illuminated only by the dim phone screen, the air between them thick with tension. “Devon, you know he hurt her right?” she looked at him curiously. Devon’s eyes narrowed. He looked confused and a part of Layla prayed it was honest innocence. She hoped maybe Devon wasn’t bad. That this was an indiscretion and he was nothing like Josh. If he knew, she could never forgive him. In fact, she’d kill him. “He abused her. The way he spoke to her… Fuck! The texts I’d see that he’d send her. She’d have cuts and bruises all the time… Did you know that?” Layla weakly asked him as tears coursed down her cheeks. 

“No.” Devon responded flatly. He swallowed feeling sick. He didn’t know any of that. He shut his eyes for a moment and then cleared his throat. “He can’t do that. I’m so sorry. What do you want me to do? What can I do, Layla?” He asked finally, his voice resigned but sincere. Layla straightened, her jaw tight as she wiped the last of her tears. 

•

Thank you for reading! Please like, comment, or message what you think of the chapter or of what's to come!

Next part - Chapter 23 xx

[mirandasidefics]

But Home is Nowhere- Chapter 13

Pairing(s): Lucien x Plus Size Reader, Azriel x Plus Size Reader, and Ruhn Dannan x Plus Size Reader.

Summary: Reader and Ruhn have a heart to heart and your friendship finally begins to move forward. Those from Midgard also learn some interesting information from their most recent trip.

Word Count: 5.8 K

Warnings: Some mild spoilers for Cresent City 3. If you haven't read this series, or this book I highly recommend that you do as parts of this story will make much more sense in the next chapter.

Author's Note: I'm so sorry for the delay of this chapter. December was an extremely rough month for me. I'm going to be talking with my psychiatrist about a possible medication change to see if that will give me some more energy and focus without adding to my anxiety.

As always, a HUGE thank you to my beta reader @hardcoremarvelfan for all her help!

Series Masterlist Divider by @/tsunami-of-tears

Previous: Chapter 12 Pt2 Next: Chapter 14

Ruhn didn’t even register that he had fallen asleep until he turned over and a bright light attempted to penetrate the darkness of his closed eyes. Groaning, he turned back over, his arm draping over the plush body next to him. A soft gasp caused Ruhn to open his eyes to find (e/c) orbs staring directly at him. 

“Uh…” Ruhn cleared the gravel from his throat as he gave the woman a sheepish smile, “Hi?” (Y/N) glared at him for a brief moment. Ruhn held his breath waiting for her to berate and kick him out. However, her expression softened before she pressed her forehead against his chest. 

“You’re home,” Her voice was soft, muffled by how close her face was to his chest. Ruhn had to suppress the shiver her warm breath generated on his skin.  

“Of course,” He carefully tightened his hold on her waist. “I had no intention of not coming back. Just…took me a bit longer to get here than I thought it would.” She nodded against his chest; however, the softness of the moment was short-lived.

“You fucking jackass!” She perched herself on her elbow before smacking the center of his chest. “Do you have any idea how worried I was last night? Where the hell were you?” Ruhn couldn’t stop the laugh that escaped him as he looked at her stern expression. 

“I’m sorry,” He apologized through his laughter. “I didn’t mean to make you worry. I was out with Cassian. Apparently I looked like a kicked puppy, so he thought alcohol would make that better.”

“Don’t blame Cassian,” She narrowed her eyes. “You knew perfectly well that…” She paused, releasing a long breath through her nose. “You know what, you don’t owe me any explanation or apology. You’re a grown male and capable of making your own decisions.” Her eyes returned to his, and Ruhn had the good sense to recognize that there was more on her mind. He knew that a week of active avoidance between them would require work to recover from. 

“I do owe you at least one apology for what happened last week,” He corrected. “That is if you’re willing to listen to me now.”

“Excuse me?” The woman sat up fully. “You could have apologized at any-”

“Would you have actually listened to me before you had a chance to calm down?” He smiled softly. She narrowed her eyes again, but allowed him to continue. “I know that you needed some time.” After a moment she relaxed her expression, laying back down against the pillows. 

“I hate the fact you know me so well,” She turned her head to look up at the ceiling, “But you’re right. I did need that time.” 

“I know,” Ruhn teased, watching as she rolled her (e/c) eyes. He paused before his voice took on a more somber tone. “I am sorry for what I said on your birthday. I didn’t…I never want you to feel like you’ve been forgotten. You mean too much to…everyone here.” He paused, allowing his lackluster apology to sink in. He couldn’t tell her exactly what he revealed to Azriel a few hours ago. He couldn’t tell the woman lying next to him that he was in love with her. Not just yet anyway, not while there were things he needed to figure out if he wanted to do things right. 

“Thank you, Ruhn.” She turned on her side to face him again. “I know you didn’t mean to be hurtful. While there is a lot that needs to be…worked out; I just want things to go back to how they were before. Return to the day to day life with one of my best friends.” Ruhn could tell that her words also held a mixed bag of emotions. He doubted that he knew the subtle twitch of the corner of her lips before curling up into a half-hearted smile indicated she was attempting to prevent tears from springing to her eyes. 

“Friend…yeah” Ruhn paused. “I haven’t been a very good one of those have I? I’ve kept you at a bit of a distance, and that isn’t exactly fair to you.”  

“You went through a lot. You don’t have to tell me anything about your past if you don’t want to.” Her voice was gentle. “And I shouldn’t be holding that against you.” 

“That isn’t the reason I’ve held back,” He admitted. “I’ve been so scared that…it's been a few years and fear has ruled almost all of my actions. I don’t want that to continue, at least not with you.” 

(Y/N) nodded, understanding evident in her eyes as her gaze met Ruhn’s. A heavy silence fell between them. Ruhn could tell that she was allowing him time to decide how the rest of the morning would unfold. As the silence in the room pressed on, she remained curled up against his side, head resting on his shoulder. Her hand lazily-and likely absent mindedly-following the geometric pattern of the tattoo spanning from his left bicep to his shoulder and extending down to his left pectoral. 

He wanted to savor this quiet moment. The peace of lying next to her warmth and softness. If there was ever a perfect moment to open up to the human woman, now would be the time. Ruhn recalled that when he first started to share his personal history with Agent Daybright he spoke to her of his father. He would have to start with something different this time. It was only the right thing to do to ensure that he didn’t treat (Y/N) like a replacement.   

“Would you like to hear about my mother?” His voice broke through the comfortable silence. She tilted her head up, a soft hum of confirmation.

“Please.” Her voice was soft as she looked up at him. 

“Her name is Lorin…” As soon as Ruhn began to speak to her about his mother, it was like the flood gates had finally burst open. He rambled from one topic to another, and he certainly hadn’t intended to reveal so much of the trauma he endured at the hands of his father. She quietly listened to everything he shared. No judgment or pity filled her eyes. She never interrupted, only nodding occasionally to show she was following him. He even shared a few things that he had not spoken to many people about. Not only did he explain how the tattoos started as a way to cover up scars, but he also told her the meanings that each design held for him. 

A rendition of the Starsword, surrounded by a few simple stars, covered the inside of his left forearm. He recounted the details of his Ordeal, the desperation he felt to find a way to protect his friends, Declan and Flynn, his brothers if he was being honest. On the outer side of the left forearm were roses mixed with thorn covered vines. While he had grown to hate his Father’s villa in FiRo, it had been where he grew up. 

Above that, in the space of his inner bicep, was a simple design of The Embrace. He explained the image depicted Solas and Cthona coming together as one. This led to him talking to her about how each of Midgard’s houses were blessed by or honored at least one of the five major deities from his world. While Solas was the deity for his own House, he couldn’t remember exactly why he had been so compelled to have what was more commonly regarded as a symbol for the House of Earth and Blood inked into his skin. It took him a minute to realize this was the last tattoo he had gotten before their attempt to overrun the Asteri. Shortly after he had started speaking to Agent Daybright. However, he kept that last bit of information to himself as he remembered who Agent Daybright turned out to be…and which House she belonged to. 

He continued to his right arm, a series of braided knots covered the entirety of his right forearm, the design covering the area that held the worst of his scars. The outer bicep depicted a tree, its branches creating an intricately woven knot and its roots a mirror image. A perfect balance above and below. Her hands traced along each of the designs. He thought he heard her muttering to herself as she examined the tree, taking extra care to outline and follow each branch and root pattern.   

“I’ve seen this tree before,” She admitted softly. “Yggdrasil, the Tree of Life. It was believed in some parts of my world to be what holds the nine worlds of the cosmos.” The woman paused, and Ruhn could see the gears in her mind twirling. “No… ” With a quick shake of her head she sat up, pushing the covers to the side. 

“No, what?” Ruhn sat up as well, moving to follow her. 

“Where did you get the idea for this tattoo?” She asked, brows bunched up together as she stared at the black ink design. He had yet to add any color to it. Mainly because he wasn’t sure what colors best suited the image. It was one of his more rare black and white dreams where it first appeared. 

“I-I saw it in a dream,” His voice was slightly hesitant. He had never told anyone that before. He always made up some story about seeing it in an art piece on Avallen decades ago. But for some reason, the truth slipped from his lips as he looked at her. 

“What was the name of the deity for that scary house in Midgard again?” Her eyes remained on the roots of the tree as her hands twisted up sheets in front of her. 

“Scary…you mean the House of Flame and Shadow?” Ruhn continued to watch as (Y/N) nodded acknowledgement. “Urd, a Goddess of Fate. While she may be considered more of the patron of that house, all of Midgard honors her in some fashion.” 

“What do depictions of her look like on Midgard?” She finally looked at him. Again, Ruhn could see that her mind was putting together bits of information. Information that he knew she would only continue to withhold. 

“I honestly don’t really know. There aren’t very many pictures of statues of her outside of the Bone Quarter in Lunathion. That’s where her temple is believed to be. Only the dead and necromancers are really allowed over there. Unless you have a death mark. Which are not at all easy to get.”  She nodded again, chewing her lower lip and picking at her thumb nail. Her (e/c) eyes staring off into the distance. “What’s going on, (Y/N)?” His use of her name snapped her out of whatever rumination plagued her mind. 

“Nothing,” She shook her head a final time before a smile took over her features. “We should probably get some breakfast going. You can tell me some more about your Ordeal and the Drop.” 

The months after Ruhn’s apology, things returned to normal for the most part. The biggest change for the better was that your and Ruhn’s friendship improved significantly. He moved all of his belongings back into your bedroom, including things that you didn’t know he still kept in the other room at all. He also resumed sleeping in the bed with you each night. The only exceptions were the times he went to Midgard, which were becoming more frequent. He explained that his friends, Declan and Flynn, had spent months looking on their own for any information regarding the Star sword and Truth Teller. This, of course, resulted in him finally opening up to you about all the events that preceded his capture by the Asteri. Listening to him recount the highlights of the year before you met had never made you feel more grateful for being a person of no importance back on your own world.  

His opening up did have perks as he also filled you in on many of the Fae traditions and life on Midgard in general. You had so many theories running through your head that your attention couldn’t be divided anywhere else when the subject of life on Midgard came up. Of course, it wasn’t the only reason you listened to him so intently. The way those blue-violet eyes of his lit up…it was clear that cared deeply for those that had remained on Midgard. He missed them fiercely, his family. That’s really who they all were to him, his family. Despite Bryce and Hunt also being in Prythian alongside him, it was clear that he struggles with being separated from the bulk of his family. You had to suppress the intrusive desire of wanting to be included in that sentiment. Any time the thought arose you found yourself remembering that the events on your birthday were simply a fluke. Just because you grew close with the male, didn’t mean he saw you as anything more than a friend. He was no different in that regard to Lucien, a simple yet close friend. 

It was a strange concept to think about. You had been in Prythian for nearly five years, and you still felt like an outsider. An intruder posing as someone who is supposed to belong. To anyone looking in from the outside it would look that way. Nanny for the High Lord and Lady, friends with the first Valkyries in centuries, and routinely seen around Velaris with the elusive and infamous Shadowsinger. Regardless of what they all said or how close you had become over time, you could still feel the tension from where you were kept at a distance. You couldn’t exactly blame them either. You were mortal. You would die in just a few short decades while the rest of them would continue to live on for centuries if not millenia. 

The only person that you knew, with absolute certainty, saw you as an included member of their life was Nyx. You were well aware of how much the little heir adored you, and you adored him in turn. Knowing that there would be at least one person- 

The landing of Hunt’s feet on the cobblestones outside the townhouse distracted you from further diving into a downward spiral. The crunching of stone was followed by the beating of wings as he took off again, likely to get whomever he had left over at the Moonstone gate they built at the Sidra’s edge near the River House. No sooner than hearing the angel take off again did Bryce burst through the front door. 

“(Y/N)!” Her voice held an excited sing-song lilt. The corner of your  lip twitched up as she rounded the corner from the foyer into the parlor. Bryce’s crimson hair flowed around her, reminding you that despite her half human heritage she looked fully Fae. You tried to push the faint sting of envy, reminding yourself that she doesn’t exactly enjoy that half of her heritage. Though you knew she’d be grateful when she finally realized her long life span will allow her to have as much time with her mate and found family that many humans crave.  

“I have a surprise for you,” Bryce continued, bringing a wrapped gift box out from behind her back. The absolute look of mischievous glee on her face was the only thing that gave you any pause. You still took the fairly large box from her outstretched arms before the two of you resumed sitting on the sofa. 

“What is this? My birthday was six months ago and it’s not yet solstice,” You asked, eyeing the perfectly square package. Nothing about the box or its wrapping gave away what the contents could possibly be, and there wasn’t anything that either of you had specifically discussed her getting from a more “modern” world. 

Bryce had been kind enough to obtain some basic feminine essentials for you during some of her past trips to Midgard. You were extremely grateful for her efforts in gathering a variety of period products for you. You spent your first few cycles bleeding through scraps of cloth and felt like you were practically confined to your bedroom and the ensuite bathroom. You quickly decided that you did not want to spend a week every month in that condition. While you had asked the females in your new life how they managed their own cycles, Nesta explained that High Fae only experienced two cycles a year. Due to the infrequency of cycles the pain was reported to be nearly unbearable and resulted in many females being completely bedridden. Nesta also confirmed that scrap linens were the preferred method of keeping things clean for humans and Fae alike, regardless of the financial resources available. 

“Just open it,” Bryce encouraged, plopping the box into your lap. “Especially if you don’t want the guys to see what’s inside.” She tapped the top of the box, a shallow sounding thud indicating that the box was entirely filled with only the Gods knew what. You lifted the box, examining the meticulous wrapping. Each corner of the golden paper was tucked in tightly and secured. 

“What the hell did you get then?” You narrowed your eyes in her direction as you held the box up to your ear and began to shake it. “Doesn’t Hunt know anyway?” You set the box down when it didn’t make any sounds. 

“Nope,” Bryce chirped. “If he did, he would not have let me give that to you.” Her smile grew as she patted the box again. 

“Okay, now I’m worried.” You eyed her warily, your fingers subtly twitching against the smooth surface of the paper. “Do I even want to know what this is?” 

“Yes, you do.” She moved closer to you on the couch. “I can say with absolute certainty that some, if not all, of the items in there will be…useful in the future.” Her amber eyes shone as bright as the starlight that simmered under her light bronze skin.  You rolled your eyes at her playful insistence and quickly tore open the golden wrapping. The box itself was fairly nice, sturdy and could be easily kept to hold whatever its contents already included. 

“I swear to whatever is holy Bryce if this is some-” The words immediately died on your tongue and your jaw literally dropped. Bryce erupted in a fit of giggles at seeing your shocked expression. Inside the box was a plethora of items that made up what you could only describe as a ‘family planning care package’. You could admit upon immediate inspection that at least half the items in the box would be useful. PH balancing feminine wash, extra sanitary pads, a few reusable menstrual discs and cups. The other items…well, she was right that you definitely didn’t want anyone else seeing the contents. Especially Ruhn. You didn’t know how you’d explain the presence for the large box of condoms, two decently sized bottles of lubricant, two packages of pregnancy tests and…

“Ovulation tests? Are you fucking kidding me Bryce?” You wanted to be mad, but her laugh was too infectious. You fell into your own fit of laughter right alongside her. Through your laughter you took another look at the box of condoms.

“Fucking hell, how much sex do you think I’m going to be having?” You held up the box of condoms, a variety pack, and began to examine it. “One hundred condoms? Really?” You shook the box at her for added emphasis on just how ridiculous the item was. 

“Hey, I just wanted to make sure that one of my closest friends had everything that she would need.” Bryce managed to defend through her continued laughter. “Especially if she is going to continue sleeping with my brother.” 

“Bryce! You know perfectly well Ruhn and I are not like that,” You placed the care package in between the two of you while the box of condoms remained in your grasp. 

“Sure, whatever you say,” She smirked, the deep red of her lip stick amplifying her mischievous tone. “Then this can all be for whenever you do meet that special someone, which you will.” She held up a finger to silence the objection which was poised on the tip of your tongue. “I know this, because you’d be-” 

“A novelty, Bryce. Anywhere I go in this city I am looked at as a novelty.” Your voice took on a slight edge. “I am the only human living in the Night Court. Hell, I’m the only human living in all of Prythian.” You sighed, setting the box of condoms in your lap. 

“Which is exactly why I picked a variety pack,” She smirked, completely ignoring your statement. Your eyes followed her elegant finger as it pointed to the side edge of the box.  “Glow in the dark.” 

“Oh sweet Jesus,” Your laughter returned and doubled as you read the words on the box, directly under the list of flavors making up a quarter of the box’s contents. Tears of laughter quickly filled your eyes as Bryce broke down right beside you on the couch in the parlor. The two of you were so busy laughing that you didn’t hear Hunt return with Ruhn in tow. 

“What are you two so giggly for?” Ruhn smiled from the entrance to the parlor. Still facing Bryce your eyes went wide, the box of family planning items still opened between you and the half fae female. Without even needing the ability to speak mind to mind, Bryce immediately started helping you repack the box with lightning quick reflexes. 

“Nothing! It’s nothing!” You shouted, sliding the box under the couch. Once it was fully tucked away you looked up at the male. Your jaw dropped for the second time and gasped, “What the fuck did you do to your hair!” You stared at Ruhn, eyes watering as you stood to meet him. The past two months Ruhn had allowed the hair on the shaved side of his head to fill in. You had been unsure as to why, but now you knew. You lifted your hand to the right side of his head, where the beautiful waist length locks had once flowed. 

“I know,” Ruhn brought his hand up and gently grasped your fingers. His hair was short, equal in length on both sides. The style honestly reminded you of Azriel’s typical cut. However, the fresh cut combined with Ruhn’s features made his resemblance to Rhysand all the more striking. 

“You’re not sleeping next to me when you look like him,” There was no laughter in your voice. 

“It will grow back, don’t worry,” He reassured, his fingers interlacing with yours as he led you both back to the couch. His arm easily fell along the back of your shoulders as he leaned in to kiss your temple. You felt your lips twitch trying to suppress the smile. Your friendship had certainly gone back to normal, yes, but there were times when he was a little more affectionate than before. Just like he was right now. From the corner of your eye you saw Bryce’s wide knowing grin. You’d have to remind her, yet again, that your relationship with Ruhn was platonic. Even though a small part of you wanted the dynamic to go in a more romantic direction. 

“I tried to tell him he didn’t need to cut it that short,” Hunt joined in on the conversation, sitting himself on the arm of the couch behind Bryce. His own hair also appeared freshly cut compared to the last time you saw him. 

“And steal your and Cassian’s signature look? I don’t have the wings to pull it off, ” Ruhn joked, his blue-violet eyes turning towards you. “Besides, it's not exactly like I wanted to cut it.”  His thumb gently stroking the sliver of exposed skin on your shoulder. 

“So why did you?” You asked, your hand reached out again and this time he allowed you to pinch a few strands between your fingers. 

“Well, I had planned to just grow it all out.” He answered, a soft sigh escaping his lips. “But that prick was right. Even with the long hair I’d be too recognizable.” You bunched your eyebrows together as you looked between them. 

“Our father,” Bryce supplied, her tone now short and clipped. You nearly choked on air at the news. A sinking feeling in your stomach had you anticipating that this last trip was much more eventful than any of their previous trips to Midgard had been over the past few years. 

“Your father?” You angled your body towards Ruhn. “You saw him?” 

“Yeah, and we actually had a fairly interesting conversation,” Ruhn admitted. 

“If you count not immediately being turned over to the Asteri as interesting,” Hunt added, a slight smirk on his lips. You blinked, trying to prepare yourself for whatever asinine reasoning they could have had for going to such a well guarded location such as the Autumn King’s villa given their high profile fugitive status. 

“Why would you even risk a trip like that?” You focused your attention on Ruhn, even though you were fairly certain the entire meeting was likely an impromptu affair by Bryce. Both siblings had told you all about their respective histories with the selfish male that sired them. It went without saying that you had no desire to ever meet the asshole. “How do you know that he isn’t planning to just turn you in the second you all get back to Midgard? What was so important that you had to risk-”

“Easy sweetheart,” Ruhn reassured, his arm bringing you closer to his frame. “We had very good reason, and at this point seeing him and getting the information we got out weighed the risks.” He met your eyes, his expression soft as he tried to subtly comfort your worries.  

“Fine,” You relented. “What did you learn then?” You settled back into your spot on the couch as you waited for them to explain.

“We learned what the Star Sword and Truth Teller may be able to create when used together,” Bryce answered. “Something that may be able to destroy the Asteri.” Her voice no longer held any hint of the playful spirit it had moments ago. You sat up straighter. This was news you had not anticipated hearing. In fact, you had hated to admit that you long gave up any hope that you would live long enough to hear any good news for your friends in their efforts to rescue their world. If the blades could truly be combined to destroy the Asteri, well that was worth risking a visit to their father. Honestly, that was information worth risking everything. 

“What…” You were at a loss for words. “W-what can they do?” Your voice was hesitant, and you hoped that they didn’t see the true reason behind your question. You knew it was important for them to be able to go home. You also knew that once the Asteri were gone, the three of them would return to Midgard permanently. You tried to stop the thoughts of how much you would lose if the trio left Prythian so soon. Specifically, the loss of one of the people that had become so important to you. The fact that you didn’t want to be parted from Ruhn permanently hit you like a ton of bricks. It was only Ruhn’s gentle squeezing of your shoulder that pulled you back to the moment.  

“Legend has it the two blades are supposed to open a portal when combined,” Bryce’s voice was eerily calm, “Specifically, a portal to Nowhere.” 

“What?” You stared at her, waiting for a punchline that never came. “Nowhere? Really? You’re telling me the giant skull of a deceased Celestial is real and floating around somewhere in the universe?” All three of them looked at you as if you had morphed into said giant skull. “Guardians of the Galaxy? Come on, you don’t have the MCU or Marvel comics in your world?” While Bryce and Hunt stared at you with confused expressions, you could make out the subtle twitch of Ruhn’s lips as he suppressed a desire to laugh. “Nowhere is the name of the skull in the Marvel Cinematic Universe…or multiverse…point is I was trying to be funny.” 

“You are funny,” Bryce’s lip finally curled up in a half smile. “At least I assume you are when your audience knows what it is you’re referencing.” You gave her an exasperated smile before tilting your head back and groaning.  

“Okay, so what the hell does your father mean by ‘Nowhere’ then?” You asked leaning back against the couch. Ruhn’s arm remained draped over your shoulder, his thumb resuming its gentle strokes along your skin.  

“Unfortunately the fucker was less than helpful in that regard,” Bryce’s good humor was gone again at the reminder of the Autumn King. 

“She means that he wasn’t entirely sure,” Ruhn clarified. “All he found on the subject was what the blades were supposed to do and nothing more. However, he indicated that maybe the Fae archives on Avallen held more information that he had yet to locate.” You couldn’t suppress the snort quick enough. Hearing the name of the island where the Fae first settled on Midgard always amused you. Another item to the growing list of similarities between your world and theirs. 

“Well that is maddeningly unhelpful,” You shook your head softly and pulled your legs up onto the couch. You leaned your body closer to Ruhn’s. 

“Yes, but there is one positive.” Hunt gently reminded both siblings. “He already had Flynn and Dec looking in the archives.” 

“They didn’t even find anything useful,” Bryce countered, crossing her arms over her chest. 

“Yes they did,” Ruhn snapped. “The series of maps they found-”

“Show nothing but the fact that land masses change over millennia,” Bryce spat. 

“Bryce,” Hunt’s calm tone cut through their bickering. “It may not have been what we were hoping to find, but the information is interesting.” Hunt took a moment to look towards you. “Dec and Flynn found maps of Avallen, some of which included smaller islands that had since disappeared. The disappearance of the smaller islands wasn’t over thousands over years, but within a couple of decades, which makes the information interesting.”

“Yeah, land masses don’t change that quickly Bryce,” Ruhn added childishly. You smacked his chest before shushing him. His sister responded with her own equally childish response of sticking her tongue out in Ruhn’s direction. 

“That is interesting,” You looked between Ruhn and Hunt. “But I’m with Bryce on this. How is that information relevant to defeating the Asteri?” 

“It likely isn’t relevant,” Hunt conceded. “But the land where the Starborn Fae settled in Midgard underwent massive changes and significant loss of fertile land. I don’t think that’s a coincidence when their former home underwent similar changes.” 

“The Prison island…” Your voice trailed off as Hunt nodded, a soft approving smile on his face.

“I told you she was smart,” Ruhn boasted. “Hunt and I came to the same conclusion. Something caused the islands to become barren.”

“Well according to that magical hologram Silene left, the land was reduced to its waste land status after she made it into the prison,” Bryce added. “A collection of nasties poisoning all traces of life apart from themselves.” You felt the gears turning in your mind. It was hard to argue that both islands would become practically devoid of life around the same time by chance. The list of potential reasons was endless. Anything from a saturation of dark energy to a specific spell to a lack of magic entirely. You also speculated that perhaps Midgard and whatever planet you were currently occupying were mirrors or alternative versions of each other. Though, there was more evidence that both worlds were part of the same universe rather than some type of multiverse bullshit. A confirmation of the existence of a multiverse was not quite on your bingo card for expected life experiences. Then again, neither was going through a magical portal and landing in a world that you- 

“Bryce, you need to take me to the Prison island again.” You turned to face her fully. “Please. I don’t care what Rhysand says, I need to see the island and those tunnel carvings for myself.” The half-fae female looked at you, her eyes studying the determination on your face. 

“Alright,” Bryce’s conspiratorial smile returned. You knew that she enjoyed any opportunity to piss off the High Lord. “When do you want to leave? We can even go right now if you want.” She stood from her spot on the couch.  

“Oh no,” Ruhn immediately stated, also standing from his spot next to you on the couch. “You’re not going by yourselves.” 

“I agree,” Hunt looked at Bryce. “I know that you’ve been down there several times now, but you’ve made the Drop and you’re a badass, but…(Y/N) is human.” He softened his eyes as he looked at you. 

“Are you Alphaholes for fucking real?” Bryce scoffed, hands immediately going to her hips. “She has daily training with two 500 year old warriors AND the two of you. You really think that she’s not a badass in her own right by now?” Despite Bryce’s faith in your self-defense skills you knew Hunt was right. Your eyes met Hunt’s, his expression reflecting what you knew was true. You may be able to defend yourself in some scenarios, but your body couldn’t heal itself in the same way if you were to get injured. The chances of you surviving any major injury were significantly smaller. However, the reminder that you were simply a fragile human stung nonetheless. 

“Yeah, I am being ‘for real’,” Ruhn met his sister’s glare. “We have no idea what kind of creatures are in the prison. We also don’t exactly know our way around apart from a single path down to that room leading to the tunnels.” Bryce rolled her eyes. 

“Well I can’t teleport more than two others plus myself. So unless you’ve managed to finally learn long distance travel through your shadows you might be stuck here as look out Big bro,” Her smile was less than friendly.  

“She needs protection Bryce, and no offense to Hunt, but if she went down he’s more likely to protect you than her,” Ruhn looked at the angel. You watched in silence as the two males just stared at each other. The two of them were clearly having a mind to mind conversation. 

“You know it's rude to have a private conversation in front of others,” You quipped, trying to help ease the tension from before. You turned and started to make your way to the staircase. “I’m going to get a warmer coat so the two of you had better figure out who's going with us by the time I get back.” 

General tag list: @loving-and-dreaming

Series tag list: @jenniferpendragon @impossibelle @sweet-chai-amore @myheartfollower @iimichie

@fightmedraco @nikkitch0703 @eerievixen @ang-taylorsversion

@randomness-it-is @thehighlordishere @rachelnicolee @hardcoremarvelfan @awkardnerd @sundayysunshine

@jpgtae @cheneyq @morganwdarius @latinxbipride @catharticlovewriter

@mis-lil-red @rcarbo1 @celmentine111002 @abacteriamicroorganismsalmonella

The crossed-out name means tumblr wouldn't let me tag you

[jinxsleftmiddlefinger]

timebomb highschool au

(part 8)

(pt1) (pt2) (pt3) (pt4) (pt5) (pt6) (pt7) (read on ao3)

description: timebomb highschool au pretty much sums it up lol. there’s also canon storylines (vander death, vi conflict etc.) but translated into a modern context

note: sorry for any mistakes I’m exhausted lol

Ekko didn’t know what to think when he received the text. He wasn’t really apart of the high-school party crowd, but this wasn’t even a high school party, it was a college party. And Jinx wanted him to be there…

It really didn’t take much convincing. He had texted back almost immediately, and she had sent him a smiley face and the time she’d pick him up the next day.

Now, he’s getting ready, looking himself over in the mirror, trying to figure out what he’s supposed to wear to a party.

His phone buzzes on his desk, and he walks away from the desk to check it.

Jinx: I’m hereeeeee

Jinx: come outside !!

With one last quick glance in the mirror, Ekko left his house with a quick goodbye to Benzo over his shoulder. He hadn’t told Benzo exactly where he was going, not because he thought he wouldn’t be allowed, but because he would not enjoy the teasing about the girl he was going out with.

Not that this was a date or anything. This was a friendly hang out. As acquaintances.

Jinx’s car was pulled over on the road, and he could already hear the bass bumping all the way up the driveway. He knew Jinx was fond of music, especially loud music, so it wasn’t that much of a surprise.

He opens the passenger side door, pulling himself into the car and smiling at her.

“Hel-lo, Ekko!” She says over the song playing on the car speakers, a song about ‘bombs and bullets’ and getting jinxed. “You excited?”

“Yeah it, uh, sounds cool.” He hates how stupid he sounds, especially with having to raise his voice after the music Jinx seems insistent to let play, despite it interrupting their conversation.

“Sorry I was late, had to sneak out!” She yells over the song.

Ekko had been so preoccupied with checking his appearance, he hadn’t even noticed.

She starts driving, and the road is mostly empty except for them. Thankfully, Jinx turns the music down once that song ends, and Ekko is actually able to hear his thoughts again.

His relief is quickly ended when Jinx suddenly hits the gas and starts driving like she’s going to the damn hospital. She veers around every corner like she’s in a race car and he’s pretty sure she sped up when going over a speed bump.

“Are we in a rush?” He laughs nervously. “Why are we going so fast?”

“What do ya mean, boy saviour?” Jinx’s face clearly shows she takes pleasure in his new nickname and his discomfort. “We’re barely even going that fast. If there wasn’t so many damn cops out tonight, I’d show you some real speed.” She giggles.

Ekko should have known that this girl would drive as crazy as she is. He doubts his seatbelt would protect him from a crash with her driving, and he’ll be lucky if he even survives this car ride.

“I’m pretty sure you’re over the speed limit.” He reminds her.

She glances at him like he’s the insane one. “You check that shit?”

Ekko fights to keep his jaw from dropping. She thought it was weird to check the speed limit?

He had no idea how this girl had survived for so long.

Before he could remind her to be more careful on the road or inquire on how she even got a license, they arrived. The house house was a McMansion, a basic, whit hulking with bass louder than the one in the car had been.

“Let’s go!” Jinx turned off the car and hopped out, gesturing him to follow as she ran up the steps.

Ekko followed behind, putting his hands in his pockets and trying not to stand too awkwardly. 

The door swung inwards, revealing a very drunk boy, despite it only being around 8:40. He was staring off into space instead of really looking at them, and he simply laughed dreamily when Jinx pushed past him and opened the door wider for Ekko.

Being very drunk seemed a common theme here. Everyone in the room was either completely wasted or on their way there, and Jinx seems excited to see it. His face heats up when she grabs his wrist and starts pulling him towards the kitchen. 

“Do you want a drink?” She claps her hands together, looking at the bottles of liquor lining the counters, overwhelmed by the choices.

In truth, Ekko had only drunk once, and he had barely even drank anything. After that, he decided it wasn’t for him. He didn’t like the way it muddled his brain and dulled his memory. He understood that some people might drink it to forget stuff, but if anything, it just made him feel worse.

“Who’s going to drive?” He asked her.

Jinx looked thoughtful for a moment, like she hadn’t considered that before. “I will! I won’t drink that much.”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea.” Ekko said, a touch too fast.

If Sober Jinx was a scary driver, Tipsy Jinx driving was nightmare fuel. No way in hell was that happening.

“Trust me!” Jinx drawled, grabbing a red cup from the stack and filling it with a few juices and some random liquor from a bottle. Even that much was enough to concern him on how impaired her already perilous driving skills would become.

He sighed, grabbing a cup of his own and filling it with some liquids. He barely put any liquor, just enough for her to not call him a wimp.

The music was blasting behind them; house music that didn’t have a steady beat or a rhythm, just noise for people to move to. Out in the living room, people were dancing and jumping all around each other, surely spilling their drinks on other people in the crowd.

“Come on!” Jinx grabbed him with her free hand. “I need to find someone.”

Ekko felt his stomach drop. Find who? A boyfriend? A girlfriend?

He needed to stop. It’s not like he had thought this was a date anyway. Not technically.

They walked past two guys sitting close to each other on a couch, one who looked like a common high school fuckboy and the other who was a skinny dude with a cane and an accent. Ekko looked away, thinking he was interrupting some private moment by the way they were basically eyefucking.

Ekko hid his sigh of relief when he saw who it was that Jinx had to meet. An older girl with pink hair whose facial structure was practically the same as hers. This must be Jinx’s sister.

“Vi!” She said. “We made it!” He could the liquid in her cup sloshing around as she took another long drink.

“Is this your friend?” Vi was leaning against a wall, a canned drink in hand, looking at him up and down.

She must think he’s her boyfriend.

“Yeah! This is Ekko, he’s new to Zaun High, so I’m showing him around a bit, y’know?” Jinx put a light arm on his shoulder and Ekko prayed that the butterflies he felt in his stomach weren’t written all over his face.

Jinx practically chugs her drink and barely even makes a face when she finishes off the surely burning liquor. “Hold on, I’m going to get a little more to drink.” She slips past dancing bodies towards the kitchen, leaving Ekko completely alone with her sister.

“So, Ekko,” Vi is clearly not entirely sober. “How’s it going with my sister?”

Ekko clears his throat, his face burning even more. “We, uh- Well, good, but we’re just friends. I think you might have the wrong idea.”

She raises an eyebrow and he takes a nervous sip of his barely alcoholic drink. 

“Not, it’s really not like that.” He sounds like he somehow managed to get drunk off the little amount of alcohol in his cup. “Honestly.”

Vi leans closer, intimidatingly. “Listen, buddy, I don’t really care about the technical status of your little fling. I don’t care if you’re officially dating or not. If you hurt her, I swear to-“

“I’m ba-ack!” Jinx sing songs, walking towards them with a demeanour that suggests she’s already become tipsy. “What are-“ She cuts off, and Ekko watches as her eyes widen, turning from an expression of surprise to one of rage.

“What the fuck, Vi? Again?” She bursts out, looking at her sister.

Vi looks up and almost drops her cup. “No, it’s-“

The person that made Jinx so emotional approaches the pink haired girl Jinx is now glaring at. “Vi, I’m sorry, you forgot your phone back at the apartment and I-“ She gasps quietly, looking in the direction of the pissed off blue haired girl. “Oh. Shit.”

He can hear Jinx breathing heavily, and he sees her fingers gripping her cup so hard that they’re turning white.

Ekko starts to get the distinct feeling that he should not be here.

The next thing he knows, Jinx is lunging at the girl and Vi is pulling her away. There’s yelling and pushing and Ekko watches silently, not entirely sure what to do. The music is still so loud that the other people at the party barely even notice.

“Jinx!” Vi lets her go once she’s finally calmed down enough to not physically attack. “What the fuck was that?” All three of the women are breathing heavily.

“You brought Caitlyn here! What the fuck, Vi, again?” Jinx glares at her.

“I didn’t! I swear!” 

“I was just trying to bring her phone, I didn’t know-“ Caitlyn says meekly, gazing between the pink and blue haired girl.

“Shut up,” Jinx growls, her eyes never straying away from her sister. “I should have known. You’re always going to choose her over me. Always.”

“No!” Vi shakes her head, looking at her sister with glassy eyes. “That’s not fair!”

“What’s not fair is that my sister is a liar! A liar who left me!” Jinx yells, still drowned out by the house music.

Vi’s face hardens. “You’re not acting like my sister right now. I miss Powder, Jinx. What happened to her?”

Ekko thinks Jinx might kill her in that moment.

“She’s dead! You killed her!” Jinx backs up, no longer breathing heavy from adrenaline, but instead breathing heavy from her emotions. “Powder’s gone. And you’re right, Vi…Jinx and Vi aren’t sisters.”

Vi’s face falls, and he can see the regret swirling in her eyes, can practically hear her apologies, but Jinx is already done with her.

She starts to walk away, pushing through tipsy dancers, then stops and considers. She turns and grabs Ekko’s arm before pulling them together through the halls of the bustling McMansion. She takes him out on a balcony.

They’ve been sitting in silence for a few minutes, Ekko picking at his hands, when she finally speaks.

“I’m sorry you had to see that.”

He looks up quickly, looking at her just in the corner of his eye. “It’s fine.”

“Do you hate me now?” She looks out at the fading night sky. “Do you think I’m a crazy bitch?”

He crossed his arms over his knees, looking at her fully this time. “No, no, I….I understand. I mean, not fully, obviously, but I think I get it.”

She snorts. “So you don’t think I’m insane?”

“I didn’t say that,” He smiles faintly.

She giggles in a way that reminds him of her tipsiness, of the cup she’s still nursing. Nevertheless, it sounds beautiful.

She is beautiful.

God, he barely drank anything and his thoughts were already turning to things he definitely shouldn’t be thinking.

“You know,” Jinx leans her head back on the balcony railing. “You’re pretty cool, Ekko. Especially for a new kid.”

“You’re pretty cool too, Jinx. Especially for a crazy girl.” He responds in turn.

“Aw, come on. My craziness is part of my charm.” She winks, and Ekko thinks that he could spend hours thinking about that sparkle in her eye.

“Yeah,” He says, so quietly he’s not even sure she hears him. “It is.”

He tilts his head farther, to get a better look at her, and he sees her doing the same thing. They laugh in unison.

Then they’re getting closer, and closer, and he swears he can feel the tiny amount of alcohol he drank racing through his bloodstream, infiltrating his brain. He’s drunk on just that look on her face alone, anyway.

He’s so close that he can smell the sweet alcohol on her breath, can count the hardly visible freckles across her nose and cheeks, can see the flecks in her eyes.

Then he’s so close that their lips are touching.

She kisses him in the way you would expect a girl like her to kiss; fast, without hesitation, fearlessly, crazily, and all consumingly. He hopes the way he kisses her back is sufficient. 

The kiss deepens, and he forgets about everything around him. The thump of the house music fades into the sound of his heartbeat, the feel of the railing against his back unimportant compared to the feel of her lips on his.

He doesn’t care if she’s crazy or insane or hates her sister. He doesn’t care about any of it when she kisses him like this.

This girl he barely knew yet felt like he understood so well, this girl he felt like understood him. 

Jinx was a good kisser. When they finally broke apart to breathe, that was the only thing he could think. And then he thought about how badly he wanted to do that again.

Ekko ended up being the one having to drive them home that night, though one might say he was as drunk on Jinx’s lips as she was on alcohol. When they said their goodbyes, she kissed him again on his cheek, and he knew then he was a goner.

[justaragdollysblog]

Sweet Things

a Ragatha x Gummigoo fic!

Hi guys!!!!! i’m trying to get motivated to write more so here we are!! i absolutely adore this ship i think they’re so cute shdhdjdj

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Sugary sweet and perfect.

That’s what Ragatha thinks as she sits next to Gummigoo on a bench at the Carnival.

The two are sharing a funnel cake together, and the sun is setting, painting the coded sky oranges and purples.

It had been a few months since Ragatha convinced (read as: begged) Caine to let him stay, and the two were quickly enamored with each other.

Ragatha was just as accommodating as she always was: showing him around, explaining the rules of the world, etc.

But there was something about his charm, and how he seemed to see right past Ragatha’s fake happy act and what she actually was:

A human. A human being in a bleak situation.

Ragatha’s snapped out of her thoughts by the roller coaster passing overhead. “Oh- Sorry, Gummi! I didn’t mean to space out there.”

“You’re alright, sheila. Everything okay?” He asked in a concerned tone. He set aside the plate of sweet food and wrapped his tail around her comfortingly. Ragatha, she found, was a sucker for this.

She leaned her head on his shoulder, the candyesque texture soothing her further. “Yeah, I’m okay. I was just thinking.”

“Penny for your thoughts, darlin.” He wrapped an arm around her. He never thought his limited worldview (widened unintentionally thanks to Pomni) could account for so much love. But it did, and he loved Ragatha more than anything or anyone.

She smiled softly and genuinely. “Just thinking about how we met. When I practically begged Caine to let you stay, and you stayed in my room that night.” She was quickly melting under his touch.

Gummigoo smiled softly at the rag doll in his arms. “What a day that was. I remember when I saw you for the first time, love. I thought I would’ve melted right then and there.”

He leaned down and pressed a kiss to her head, using his alligator-like snout. “And I just fell deeper in love with you. And it’s been a learning curve, even a little difficult at times.”

Ragatha glanced up at him, concern in her eye. “I hope it hasn’t been too rough…”

He simply shook his head. “There’s no other way I’d want to spend my time. I mean that, doll. You’ve done so much for me, and…I love you so, so much.”

Ragatha felt her eye well up with tears of joy. The circus was hardly a place of peace and fulfillment, but as the cool breeze passed through her hair, and the sky was ablaze in a sunset,

it was still nice to have these sweet things.

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WOOOOOO FIRST FIC OF 2025

i wanna get more consistent for u guys!!!

reblogs are appreciated!! see you guys next time!!