#it was supposed to be a short shift today. quick and easy

[tampon-on-the-sidewalk]

A word to anyone considering leaving their job for whatever reason:

Give two weeks notice AND work the last of your scheduled shifts.

Not only does it make you look better to other potential job offers (you see things through to the end as opposed to dropping prior obligation, ie previously scheduled shifts)

But it makes it so much better for your coworkers, who otherwise would have to work themselves to the bone just to make it through the day.

Sure, fuck corporate. Fuck your managers. Fuck your customers, even, if they ain’t treating you right. But please respect the others who absolutely can’t handle being a person short when hours are already spread so thin.

[luveline]

Mothers day lil fic with eddie x reader from june baby? 👉🏻👈🏻

mom!reader, 1.5k “Big stretch!”

You hold your arms above your head, stretching as tall as you can go. Your t-shirt rises and exposes the soft stretch of your tummy, stretch marks decorating your skin and lightened in the sun as you lean to your left side.

“Okay, now we count. One, two…”

“Three,” Junie says. “Five, six, seven.”

“You forgot four, babe. Let’s try again, okay?” You stretch to your right side. “One, two, three…”

“Five, six, four–”

You giggle. Junie, who wasn’t doing a very good job at copying your yoga poses to begin with, hears you laughing and drops her short arms to her sides. “Tummy!” she says, jumping forward to push her hand into your stomach.

“I’m telling Eddie you did that. So nasty.” You drop your arms.

“Tummy,” she says again, poking at your belly button.

You catch her hands in yours and level her with a feigned glare. “What are you trying to say about my tummy?”

She beams. It’s lovely to have a little baby that looks like you. Her joy is yours, her smile made up of your lips and teeth. She’s a mirror, and you could never not think she was gorgeous —it makes you gorgeous too.

“Guess we’re done stretching?” you ask.

She lifts her hands to your sides, a gesture to be grabbed. You lean down to collect her and drag her up for a hug, holding her low at the back to encourage face to face time. “What, you’re not talking to me?” you ask warmly.

She touches your neck.

“I know,” you say. You’re pretty sure you get it.

Outside, tires roll across grass and road alike. You listen for the whine of Eddie’s van as it parks, grinning all over again when it comes. He’s not supposed to see you today, it’s Sunday, he has too much stuff to do.

If he’s outside, it means he swapped his shifts again or called out, which means he’s gonna give you one of his speeches about being sickly sweet in love with you. You can pretend you don’t like them as much as you want, but there’s no better feeling than being loved like you’re something special.

You open the door before he can, and he needs it, anyhow. To your confusion, he’s carrying a cellophane wrapped bouquet made up of a hundred different colours and a white box in the other, arms full and naked, no jacket to hide from the early summer sun. Your eyes widen as he gets to the steps. He looks like he made an effort to see you (and it doesn’t matter that he doesn’t always, you love him as he is, but you can’t help asking yourself why).

“What’s going on?” you ask.

Eddie smiles. “What do you mean?”

“What’s the stuff for?” There’s a bag hanging from his elbow.

“This stuff?” he asks, cresting the last step.

“Hi,” Junie says.

“Hi, babe.”

“Hi.” She reaches for the flowers. “Pretty.”

“You think so? I got them for your mommy but I’m sure she’ll share them with you.”

You’re nonplussed as he moves in to kiss your cheek and skirt around you. “Come on. This stuff’s heavy,” he says, the cellophane crunching against his chest as he squeezes past you into your home.

“Eddie, what is that stuff?”

“You don’t know what day it is today?”

You think about it for a second at least. “No?”

It’s not your birthday, not Junie’s. You and Eddie can’t have made it to your first anniversary already, but perhaps six months? You try to do the maths in your head. Eddie puts the white box on your kitchen table, the bag on Junie’s high chair, and the flowers by the sink.

“You really don’t know, do you?” he asks, some sympathy in play.

“Eddie, we did stretches!” Junie says from your arms.

You offer her to him. He wraps her up and makes it look easy, baby on his hip. Quick kiss pressed to her cheek. “Yeah? Mom’s got you doing yoga again?”

You’re drawn to the box like a magnet.

“What is it?” you ask.

“It’s for you, babe,” he says easily, smiling as Junie tucks a curl behind his ear. “It’s all for you. You can open it.”

“You sure?”

“Of course I am. Open it up.”

You take the box’s lid off, lips parting in surprise. Happy Mother’s Day has been written in white writing against a baby pink cake. It’s simple, without frills, but it’s sweet and it looks soft to the touch.

“Is it today?” you ask.

“Yeah, babe. I can’t believe you didn’t know.” Eddie shifts Junie forward to stop her from tangling his hair. “That’s a lie, I totally can. Quick, come here.”

You slot into his side, expecting the kiss, but not the second one against the apple of your cheek. “Happy Mother’s Day. I would’ve been here sooner, but I had to make sure my mom knew I was thinking about her first.” He taps your noses together before pulling away. “You’re the best mom ever, so. Me and June got you some presents. No biggie.”

“Junie got me this?”

“Who do you think wrote on the cake?”

Eddie pretends to eat Junie’s hand, to her delight. You feel the cardboard of your box between your fingers, no attempt made to hide the achingly huge smile that’s taking shape. “And the bags for me too?” you ask.

Eddie can hear it in your voice. “The bag’s for you too, of course. You're the mother.” He snarfs against Junie’s wrist. “Um-num-num.”

You drag the bag from Junie’s blue and orange high chair across the table to peek inside. It’s a flat, paper bag from a clothing store, so the contents surprise you for being much more than clothes. Your smile gets worse with each item unveiled from its tissue paper depths: a humble box of fancy chocolates, a bag of your favourite chips, a small black box and a pair of pyjamas wrapped together with a ribbon.

You hesitate with the box, hand atop it, head tilting toward your shoulder. Eddie doesn’t notice your hesitation, or at least he’s pretending not to, pretending to nibble Junie’s sleeve where she’s laughing it up in his arms.

“What’s in the box?”

He looks up quickly. Not pretending. “Oh, that’s– If you don’t like it, I can take it back. It’s nothing crazy.”

“You’re proposing.” The box is shaped for a bracelet or necklace rather than a ring.

He nods severely. “Will you do me the honour?”

You laugh softly and line your thumb to the box’s seam. It opens on a tense hinge, clicking into place.

It’s a bracelet made up of silver beads. There’s a small flat-circle charm between the beads, that, upon closer inspection, harbours two hearts, one bigger than the other.

“It’s nothing fancy, okay? So if it breaks you won’t feel bad. It’s real silver though, you don’t have to take it off much if you don’t want to. I don’t know. I think it’s, like, a reminder of her when you’re not together.” Junie whines, encouraging Eddie to press another peck to her cheek as he hugs her tighter, and takes a step closer to you. “If you don’t like it, it’s really fine.”

You slip the bracelet onto your wrist. It goes without saying you’ve never had much jewellery.

Taking his face into your hands is easy. Holding him tenderly is second nature. “Thank you,” you say, eye to eye, willing it to sink in deeply. “I love you.”

“Yeah, I love you, too. And Junie loves you more than anybody. You deserve to know that.”

“I do,” you say, glad when he puckers up for a kiss. You kiss his pouting lips misaligned to nobody’s worry, adding another for thankfulness, and a third just because. He’s smirking before you’ve so much as pulled away.

“And thank you!” you add saccharinely, stroking Junie’s cheek, though the idea that she had anything to do with your gifts is funny. “I wouldn’t get to be a mommy if it wasn’t for you. I love you.”

“Love you,” Junie says distractedly, more interested by the stud earring in Eddie’s lobe.

He gives you both a soft, soft look, startlingly yards away from his previous smirking. “You’re the best girls in the world.”

“You're the best boyfriend.” You curve an arm around him to steal him and press your face into his arm. “I love you,” you say, smushed. “Thank you so much for everything. I love you.”

“I love you, too,” he says.

“I really love you.”

“Yeah,” he says, his nose touching your head as he cranes his head down to you. “It’s okay, sweetheart, I love you too. You deserve it, alright?”

Junie pats your head. “Love love love you. Kiss?”

She almost blinds you trying to kiss you in the eye as you turn your face toward her, but it’s nice.

[ssahotchnerr]

could we maybe get some momfriend!reader and jack dynamics, maybe from before her and Aaron were even together?

something special

<333 cw; fem!bau!reader, very tiny blood description (& yes i know you're supposed to wash a paper cut right away but for the sake of the setting and aaron being cute i didn't include that step 😭), mentions of haley, mutual pining

"whatcha drawing?" you asked mid-writing, your pen flying across your paper but still finding the opportunity to peek over.

"spiderman and superman." jack replied happily, switching from a red to a blue crayon. "see, they're teaming up to fight the bad guy because he keeps doin' crimes."

about an hour or so ago, jessica had dropped off jack at the bau. long story short; she was called into work urgently and with aaron in a meeting, you were quick to volunteer yourself to keep him company. rather than cramming into the small space of your desk, and jack potentially hearing conversations or details not fit for a six year old, you've made home in the roundtable room. you could work, jack could color.

you had also fired off a quick text to aaron; letting him know jack was with you, a brief synopsis of the situation and where he could find you both once his meeting concluded. it had, and he was about to join, but found himself pausing outside the door, listening to your easy, lighthearted conversation for just a moment.

when it came to you and jack, there was just something about it. something extraordinarily special.

"i see," you nodded along to jack's words, an encouraging smile on your face. "that's really good. since when did you become an artist?"

"since always." jack grinned proudly.

"then you have to promise you'll make me a drawing soon. my desk is pretty boring, i need something to brighten it up." you held out your pinky, eyebrows raised. "promise?"

"i promise." jack linked his pinky with yours, and turned back to his masterpiece with renewed vigor.

a sense of warmth filled aaron's chest, the ends of his lips turning upwards into a faint smile at the natural bond you and jack had developed so quickly, over the course of a few weeks. deciding it was as good a time as ever to join, aaron reached out to fully open the door when a wince-gasp came from jack, stopping him.

"oh no," your head turned. "paper cut?"

jack nodded meekly, grimacing as his gaze shifted to you. his big, sweet eyes were tearful, "it stings."

"can i see?" he offered his hand limply, hanging downwards at the wrist. you cradled his small hand in yours; it was just a tiny cut - no more than a few centimeters, a faint line of red gradually seeping to the surface.

"hm, well," you huffed a breath, turning his hand face-up face-down - vaguely exaggerating the examination. you got up to retrieve the first-aid kit stationed in the room, aaron sidestepping a bit to keep out of potential view. "i think luck was on your side today, i don't think we'll have to amputate this time." you spoke with an airy tone, quick to bring light to the situation. it worked, jack stifling a laugh as you retook your seat. "nothing a bandaid can't fix."

there was the click of kit opening, a slight shuffle of what sounded like paper.

"and don't tell anyone i told you this," you applied a bit of ointment onto the bandaid before wrapping it onto his finger - not too tight or too loose, all to avoid cutting off circulation and to let the wound breathe. "we gotta keep extra band aids around because your dad always seems to get one himself."

"dad gets paper cuts? really?" jack's eyes widened in surprise.

just as his son, a breathless chuckle exited aaron; that wasn't necessarily true, but your intentions were clear: cheering jack up.

in addition, the last time he had heard someone talking to or interacting with jack like this - empathetically, attentively, motherly, was, well... haley.

it touched the usually unattended part of his heart that had been vastly empty since the divorce. since that one, horrible day. while the emptiness still lingered, you had made a pull at it. for a moment, you had healed it, even.

again, there was just something special about you. and again, the only way aaron could describe it was extraordinary.

"really." you nodded convincingly, tossing the little plastic scraps into the nearby trash bin, giving top of jack's hand a consoling pat. "it happens all the time."

aaron mentally rolled his eyes at that, a smile itching at his lips.

jack picked up his brown crayon, pain forgotten, eager to get back to his drawing. "i'm gonna draw daddy and put a bandaid on him. he's a superhero too, y'know?"

"yeah," your smile was rather bashful, your tone of voice so admirable it caused a blush to rise in aaron's cheek. "i know."

[flemingsfreckles]

Safe Space

Synopsis: based off of a request I got (that I can no longer find) that wanted to see reader comforting Jessie, Jessie seeks comfort from her girlfriend after a hard couple days at the Olympic Games.

Warnings: discussion of the Canadian Olympic scandal, that’s it

WC: 1.6k

A/N: hi, I’m on vacation again, so here’s a sort little blurb (I have no idea when this is posting because my time zones are all messed up!) I also may or may not have reviewed this after being awake for like 24+ hours so no promises on the grammar and spelling.

You had quickly wrapped a towel around your body as you stepped out of the shower, hearing a second knock on your door you originally figured it was the hotel sending up the extra blanket you had requested before you hopped in the shower. However, when the knocking continued, becoming more insistent you turned and moved over to the door, double checking that you were covered before looking through the peephole and immediately pulling the door open.

“What are you doing here?!” You said, shocked to see Jessie standing in front of you. “You can’t be here.”

“I know but, can I come in?” Her voice was quiet, she only made eye contact with you in short glances. She shifted her weight, hands fiddling together.

“Jess…” as you say her name she looks up giving you the chance to fully take in her appearance. You notice her slightly disheveled appearance, a frown across her face, eyes watery, her lip had a slight shake to it as she awaits your answer. Your heart sinks at the obviously distraught appearance she had. “Yeah, come in.” You open the door to your own hotel room before quickly glancing into the hallway to see if anyone else was around.

“You’re not supposed to be here Jessie.” You tried to gently remind her as you follow her into your hotel room.

Jessie sighs. “I know, I just, I needed you. Even if it’s just for a few minutes.”

The Canadian team had spent the last couple of days playing their first games of the Olympics, all wins but outside of the game, everything was a mess for Canada. Everything was a mess for Jessie. Drone scandal, being labeled as cheaters, losing coaching and staff, constant pressure from the press to make statements, nothing about this tournament had been easy.

You knew the pressure your girlfriend was holstering. Not only was she captaining her first major tournament, she was captaining what felt like a sinking ship. She had been nearly silent since the news broke, calling you just to say a hello before falling into silence and letting you speak until other obligations caused you to hang up.

You saw her briefly after the first game, she had looked tired, as did every other player. You got the chance to talk with her, remind her how proud of her you were, how proud everyone was, but you knew she didn’t care to hear it.

By the end of the second game she looked not just tired, but drained. Only coming over to quickly see you following their victory she hardly spoke, muttering a greeting and letting you kiss her cheek and give her a quick hug before she retreated to the locker room, head down as if they had just been beaten.

The third game she hardly looked like herself. Dark circles had formed under her eyes that had slowly lost the sparkle you had become so used to seeing. She hardly smiled, only looking like she was having fun during a goal celebration before her face would return stoic. She hardly even spoke during the game, not to her teammates, not to the ref, not to the other team. She simply waved to you before leaving the field, not utter a word to you, her family, or any fans.

It was unlike Jessie, she wasn’t one to usually let a games or the sport in general ruin her mood for the day, a couple hours sure, but today and this week was different. To say you were worried about her was an understatement.

You worry for her had set in days ago, when the news first broke. You knew your girlfriend well and you knew how she’d likely cope with the situation. Jessie would do her best to take the weight off her teammates inadvertently putting it on her own back. She’d try to hold the team together as best she could, at the expense of herself. She’d stay up late to talk with the other girls, to make sure they felt reassured, not caring that she lost sleep over it. You knew she’d do anything for her teammates, even if it meant hurting herself.

You felt like you were watching your girlfriend break apart, unable to do anything.

When she showed up, unannounced at your hotel room, you knew things were bad. It was so different, she was actively going against the team's rules and guidelines sitting in your hotel room. Jessie wasn’t one to mess around with the rules. She followed them and encouraged her fellow teammates to follow them as well. Thus meaning she never left the team hotel to see you when she wasn’t allowed, she didn’t sneak off, especially not to come to your room, her being here meant she needed you.

“What’s going on?” You said looking over your shoulder at her as you rummage through your suitcase for some sweats. You give her a second to respond and when she doesn’t, you turn around as you drop the towel and pull a shirt over your head.

Jessie is laying on your hotel bed, one arm slung across her eyes, her other resting on her stomach. You watched as she took a few deep breaths, her chest rising and falling. Slipping on underwear and a pair of sweats, you quickly moved to hang up your towel before sitting on the edge of the bed.

Your hand comes to rest on Jessie’s thigh, giving her a comforting rub. “Jess, do you want to talk about what’s going on with you?”

“It’s, just all of it, it’s too much to get into, I can’t do it.” Her voice quivers slightly, to anyone else they might not have noticed, but you knew. “I know I can’t be here but, just a quick cuddle please?” She pulled her hand away from her face, and sat up. Seeing the mix of disappointment and sadness in her eyes made your heart ache. You never wanted to see her this upset over a game, especially one they didn’t even lose.

“Sure babe, but it’s gotta be quick, you can’t be getting in trouble for sneaking out.”

“I know, but I, I can’t be in that hotel anymore, I just can’t. They’re all looking to me, and I don’t have the answers!” Her words stop and you notice she’s suddenly breathing unevenly.

“Jessie, hey.” Trying to pull her attention, you quickly stand up from the bed to squat in front of her, putting your hands on her face. You can see her relax slightly into your touch. “Look at me, Jess, look at me.”

“You’re doing the best you can, that’s all anyone can expect of you. That’s all you can do.” You try to convince her of the words you were saying, letting your thumbs gently caress her cheeks.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“No, I’m so tired of talking about it, I just need you.”

“Okay, come here.” You stand up, climbing onto the bed to lay down before lifting the covers out so Jessie can join you. She curls her body into your side, her head coming to rest on your chest and her arm draped across your chest, her hands resting just under your breast. “I love you.” You kiss the top of her head, feeling her hum in response.

You run your fingertips along her back, scratching lightly, aiding her in falling asleep. It’s not long before her breathing slows and you feel her completely relax against you.

You remained still in bed, the last thing you wanted to do was to stir and jostle the head that rested on your chest. The arm that was wrapped under her body had fallen asleep a long time ago but you couldn’t move her. You watched as your girlfriend’s phone rang, Janine’s face on the screen, you debate answering it for her before letting it go to voicemail.

Your own phone then begins to ring, this time you answer. “Hey Janine, what’s up?” You whisper, trying to keep your voice low.

“Hey, have you heard from Jess? I don’t mean to panic you but she’s not in our room, haven’t seen her in a bit.” You can pick up on the worry in your girlfriend’s best friend’s voice.

You look down to where your girlfriend’s head was resting on your chest, soundly asleep. For the first time in days she looked peaceful, she looked like she was okay.

You whisper back to Janine, not wanting to wake Jessie. “I don't want her to get in trouble, but I’ve got her, she’s fine.”

“She’s with you?” Janine asks, sounding confused.

“Yeah, I know she shouldn’t be, but she showed up and I think she just needed a break. She’s sleeping.” You continue to whisper, pausing when you notice Jessie stir slightly.

You hear Janine’s sigh of relief through the phone. “Okay, good, good. I don’t think she’s slept more than a few hours the past 5 days. I won’t say anything, everyone just wants her to be okay.”

“She’ll be back tonight, don’t worry.”

Janine thanks you before hanging up a second later. You feel the weight on your chest get lighter as Jessie lifts her head to look at you. “Was that for me?” She looked up at you with eyes still heavy with sleep.

“Janine just wanted to check on you.” You whisper, bringing your hand to her head with a gentle push in an attempt to get her to relax back against your chest.

“Am I in trouble?” You can hear the worry in her voice.

You give her another kiss to her forehead before running your hands through her hair and down her back to scratch her skin again. “No, not at all, go back to sleep Jess, I’ve got you.”

[pers1st]

can't quit you - alexia putellas x reader

pairing: alexia putellas x reader

warnings: bit suggestive, angst but happy ending

Taking a quick breath in after sleepily glancing at your phone to check the time, you shoot up in the bed that is not yours, next to the body that is not your dog's, whipping around. Your head drops as you get ever so dizzy, and you hit the nightstand next to the bed with a loud bang.

"Ow", you wince, holding your forehead tightly and pressing against it, as if that would help your pain in any way.

"Joder", a soft voice mumbles next to you as you push the covers back, revealing your still naked body. Usually, it would be dark when you left Alexia's bed, but by now, the sun had risen and you were late.

Fuck.

"Get up", you instruct her as you crawl out of the warmth of the bed, hastily gathering the clothes you'd left on the floor last night.

"Ale, we have training." The blonde is still laying in bed, the duvet cover all the way up to her nose as she shields herself in comfortability. She doesn't react to your words.

"Ale, we're late", you huff as you pull your sweatpants on. At that, the seemingly unconscious body shoots up, banging her head the same way you had.

"¡Joder!", she curses as she mimics your actions.

It's been two months since you last spent a night in Alexia's bed. Your relationship was a long and stable one, and when you broke the news to your teammates, every single one of them was shocked.

You and Alexia, however, weren't. Despite the two years you called yourself her girlfriend, the both of you agreed that it was time to call it quits. Time to go back to being friends. You let yourself become too comfortable, and, along with it - clingy. The two of you could never be apart, and you both know that it wasn't beneficial for you or Alexia individually.

Still, you know that, no matter what happened, you can always count on Alexia, and so the breakup felt less like a stop in your relationship and more like a shift. That's how you found yourself in her bed after a team night out, and then, just a month ago, the two of you silently agreed that whatever this was - it was okay. You had, after all, agreed to remain friends (with benefits, it seemed).

But the golden rule of it all seems to be that you don't stay over. You and Alexia agreed to spend time apart, to be on your own, and although it included late night calls and (sometimes drunken) hookups, you didn't sleep over anymore. You didn't wake up in her arms anymore. Until today.

"Ale, I don't have any training clothes", you sigh, the realization dawning on you that of course, you didn't pack an overnight bag. Why would you? You never stay over.

"So? Wear mine", Alexia shrugs, throwing a pair of shorts into your face. You duck away quickly and watch as the fabric gets caught on the lamp.

"Yeah, sure", you chuckle.

"You go to training, I'll be there once I've driven by my house."

"But that'll mean more extra laps, no? Just wear mine", Alexia huffs, seemingly unbothered by your problem. It's, however, not as easy as it used to be.

"I can't, Ale. We're not together anymore, we don't share clothes, we don't fucking fall asleep together!"

You didn't notice your voice raised until Alexia raises her eyebrows at you, wincing ever so slightly.

With her still looking at you like a deer caught in headlights, you grab your keys from her wardrobe and leave her behind, not caring to say goodbye.

Your ex-girlfriend confuses you. How does she not see the problem? How does she not see the gravity that comes with the night you spent at her flat? How does she not understand the problems this causes?

You huff in annoyance as you walk towards your car, knowing that you'll be running laps for a good half-hour after training, seeing as officially, you were supposed to be there five minutes ago. With the extra ten minutes it took to go home, and the fifteen minute drive to the training grounds, you know that Jona will have a very stern talk to you. The only hope you can cling onto is that Alexia is already there, and the fact that no one notices how weird it is for the both of you to be late on the same day, when you usually never are.

Jona's words are harsh, but they are nothing you can't handle. Alexia already finished her laps during training, it seems, as she is not with you while you round the pitch over and over again. With only two laps left, you speed up slightly, not noticing the figure sat on the bench before you finally come to a stop, reaching for your water bottle.

Keira raises her eyebrows at you silently as you take greedy gulps. It's not a particularly warm day, but the sun is beaming down on the pitch as if it is Summer and the excessive running left you dry.

"What happened? You're never late."

You know by her tone that she is hinting at something, but you shrug as the two of you begin walking towards the building.

"My alarm didn't go."

It's a lie. You didn't even set an alarm, with how exhausted you had been last night. Keira wants to say something else, you can sense it in the way she keeps looking at you and then back down, but you don't urge her to, because you don't want to hear it. You don't want to hear anything, really. You didn't speak a single word to Alexia during training, dodging her every time you were asked to partner up and not cheering her on the way you usually did.

Even now, as you joined Keira for lunch in the cafeteria after a quick shower, you lead your friend to the table furthest in the back, away from everyone else. She doesn't mind, though, instead yapping to you about everything and nothing. Aitana joins you halfway through your meal, and you quickly become the third wheel, though you can't exactly complain. Your head is dangerously close to exploding, with the speed that thoughts are racing through your head.

Maybe sleeping with Alexia after the breakup has been a bad idea. After all, you split because it seemed impossible to spend time away from each other. With the excuse of remaining "friends", you still partnered with her every time, made conversation with her about everything and nothing, ended up in her bed every evening just to escape mere minutes later and pretend nothing happened. It's a vicious cycle, and it needs to stop. And that realization is what's bothering you the most. The fact that you need to stop. The fact that you actually need to be apart from the woman you still love so dearly.

You don't notice Keira and Aitana already left until a new body appears in front of you. Glancing up, you find the one person you didn't wanted to see.

"Estas bien?", she asks, looking down at your full plate. Feeling nauseous all of a sudden, you declare your lunch finished and throw your wet hair over your shoulder.

"Sí", you mumble as you rise from your seat, beginning to walk to the tray of dirty dishes.

"Estas segura?"

"Sí, Ale", you huff, reaching around her to discard your plate.

"Okay", Alexia shrugs. "Are you coming over tonight?"

You shake your head, looking at her with a stare that, admittedly, she doesn't deserve. Alexia isn't the catalyst of this problem, anyways. It was the both of you who made this decision, silently agreeing on a plan that now seemed so foolish. How did you expect to spend every night with her, not allowing yourself to be embraced by her warmth and love, and not fall for her all over again? Alexia agreed to the breakup. She is okay with the two of you not being together again. So, why the hell aren't you?

"No, I can't tonight", you reply, though it is a total lie. You don't have plans at night, ever, because you always know where you'll be. Where you would have been. If the two of you were still together.

"Okay", Alexia says, though it sounds more like a question. You can't seem to stand in her presence for another second, as you bid her a quick, cold-hearted goodbye only to sprint away from the cafeteria and to the locker room to gather your bags and speed home.

Alexia and you agreed. You need to be alone. And you need to practice it, now that you can't drag yourself into her arms again. There is no space for you anymore.

You can't seem to sleep on your own. Before, you were so worn out from Alexia's persistence to wreck you in every possible, leaving you in a sleep so deep the only thing to get you to stir was your shrieking alarm. Now, though, you fall into bed with a thousand thoughts rummaging through your head, and you lie awake for hours, watching the sun set, watching the sun rise, all while tossing and turning around, desperate to find rest.

It's not difficult for the team to catch on. You sweat off every bit of concealer meant to hide the shadows beneath your eyes, and your movements are slow - hazy, almost. Your performance is average, at most, and no one had ever seen you perform averagely.

Alexia notices too - at least you hope, because there is no way she can just forget about you, is there? She watches you curiously, but she never says a word about your piss poor sprints, your late passes or weak shots.

Even Jona seems hesitant to say something - and that is what you're left with. Everyone looking, no one asking. Everyone noticing, no one checking. The whole situation is beginning to drive you insane - Alexia is starting to drive you insane. Though she is not the culprit of this, you can't help but feel your heart wither away every time you look at her and feel just a little bit of anger. This isn't how you want to feel about the woman you loved for such a long time.

It takes you exactly a week to end up in her bed again. Alexia doesn't ask why you are behaving the way you are, and she doesn't react to your hesitation to come over to hers again, which makes you crave her even more. You're a bit like a child, when it comes to these things. You always seem to want what you can't have, to want what doesn't want you. Her head just peeks up from between your thighs as you lean back into her cushions, eyes hazy and head spinning. Alexia is so, so good to you. The anger is long forgotten, at this point.

"Estas bien?", she asks the way she always does, and it causes you to chuckle.

"Sí, Ale. Muy bien", you huff, as she lays down next to you gently, her own body covered in beads of sweat. You push yourself up from the mattress with the last bit of strength you have left, gently straddling her lap as you lean down to capture her lips in another kiss. Realistically, you are worn out, at this point. You've been in Alexia's bed for hours, and the both of you are likely satisfied. But it is so hard to leave.

She chuckles into your lips, intertwining the both of your hands with hers as you finally steal another kiss from her.

This- it felt oddly domestic. There was a softness in her eyes that you haven't seen- or potentially just not noticed, since the two of you broke up. It makes you stop in your tracks.

"What's wrong?", she asks as you lean back on her lap, looking at this glint in her eyes that completely captures you. You can't describe it, but this feels so right- being here, in her bed, being on top of her, laughing, kissing, sharing intimacy, the look in her eyes as she gazes at your every inch, that it feels entirely wrong. These moments are over. Your relationship is over. You have to remind yourself, again and again.

"I should go", you huff silently, pressing one last kiss to her lips before climbing off of her. You almost whimper at the loss of contact, but you rise to your feet anyways, searching for your clothes on her wooden floor.

"You could stay." Alexia sits up, patting the spot next to her as she looks at you, following your every movement with her eyes.

"No, Ale. I should go", you remind her, and remind yourself, and pull your hoodie over your head.

"I'll see you tomorrow?", you ask, though it is a given. The two of you always see each other at training.

"Will you partner with me for passing?", she asks back, a chuckle on her lips.

"Why? Miss me already?"

You only catch the meaning of what you said by the time you are in her hallway, and you pull the door of her apartment close a little harsher than expected. Alexia doesn't miss you. The both of you know it.

It seems like a vicious cycle that the two of you are caught in. Every time you decide to put some distance between the two of you, it leaves you craving her even more. It almost feels like an addiction you are so badly trying to break, but you relapse every time, soaking in every second you can spend in her arms. You go over to hers a few times, indulging the attention she gives every inch of you, and then you leave her high and dry, the wall between you rising again as you dodge her during training and outside of it.

Just last night, you were in Alexia's arms, letting her take care of you the way she always does, letting her kiss every inch of you until there was nothing left and the two of you were breathless.

Today, you didn't speak a single word to her.

Unable to stand the silence in your apartment, you asked Keira to join you for dinner at home, after texting Alexia that you couldn't come tonight.

Alexia, obviously, doesn't seem to believe you as she knocks on your door furiously, all the while Taylor Swift is echoing off the walls of your kitchen quietly, with Keira sitting on the countertop, stirring the pasta every now and then. It is dark in Barcelona already, and just twenty four hours ago, you were with Alexia. Still, she is the last thing you expect when you open the door.

She is dressed in sweats, but she still looks so good. It takes you a second to actually recognize her presence.

"Alexia, I have-"

a guest.

That's what you intended to say, but the woman pushed past you already, barging through your apartment.

"We need to have a talk", she declares as she strides through your hallway. You only manage to catch up to her by the time she has noticed Keira, who looks between the two of you questioningly.

"You, out!", Alexia points to the door as Keira shakes her head, a grin on her face.

"But we haven't had dinner yet!", she protests with a chuckle, but at seeing Alexia's stern face, which isn't kidding in the least, she looks at you, pleadingly.

You shrug. No one disagrees with Alexia.

"Wow, just kicking me out? I'm hungry, you were supposed to feed me! I can't believe this", she mumbles as she pushes herself off the countertop, shaking her head in disbelief as she walks past you.

"I hope your food burns!", she yells from the hallway when Alexia sits down on the couch and you go to turn the stove off. The door crashes closed with a loud bang.

"That wasn't nice", you point out to your ex-girlfriend. Alexia is strict when it comes to football, but outside of the sport, outside of the captain-responsibility, she is the sweetest teammate, friend, girlfriend. Her behavior towards Keira makes you sense the gravity of whichever conversation she is going to have with you, and it makes anxiety tingle in your stomach.

"Sit with me", she orders, though it sounds more like a question when she looks at you and you can see the slightest bit of doubt in her eyes. Along with that softness. That glint.

You are next to her within seconds.

"Y/N, I need to know. If we are friends or not- I can't do this hot and cold", she starts, and the vulnerability in her voice makes you shudder. You didn't know that this affected her at all, she never voiced any complaints, but the way she looks at you makes you realize that this whole situation had nagged her more than she admitted.

"Why did you agree to this- whatever, if you don't want it?", you ask, not knowing how else to describe the situation, curious to know what she is asking of you. Does she not want you to come over anymore? Does she want you to be over every night?

"Because I can't..."

You allow her the time to search for whatever word she is looking for, knowing that she always struggled with English.

"Quit you. I can't quit you, and seeing you, holding you, if you are in my bed I can convince myself that this isn't real, that we didn't break up", she mumbles, her voice barely above a whisper but loud enough for you to hear. She spins your head.

She agreed to the breakup. She agreed that it would be best for the both of you when you first opened the conversation of how dependent you felt on her. In truth, the realization of how much you love Alexia had only hit you when every footballer had suddenly gotten engaged, and you realized that all you wanted was to marry Alexia. The thought was scary, and it sent you into a rabbit hole for a bit, wondering silently whatever you were going to do with yourself when Alexia decided that this relationship just didn't work anymore. Now, as you look at her, you realize that it's foolish. Calling dibs on the breakup was your worst idea yet. But Alexia agreed.

"But you- you agreed, when I broke up with you. You wanted the breakup", you look at her with a questioning gaze, lingering on the freckles on her cheeks.

"Because I don't want to hold you back, amor. If breaking up with me is what you need then I'll try to survive, somehow. But that doesn't mean I want it."

At that, you throw yourself into Alexia's arms. How have you been so stupid? How have you hurt the one and only person you have ever, truly loved, just because you were scared?

You sense Alexia's hesitancy, but after a few seconds, she wraps her arms around you, pulling you even deeper into her chest. You can feel her heartbeat, and smell her perfume, and it makes you question how you have survived the past months without being hers. Her arms feel so familiar, so comforting, that you crave nothing more than to be here - in her embrace - forever.

"I only broke up with you because I was scared. I was so scared of you ever leaving me, and-"

Alexia interrupts you.

"I could never. I could never quit you, amor. You are stuck with me forever", she mumbles into your hair as she gently rocks the two of you from side to side, her arms never loosening around you. You chuckle at her choice of words, though you do admit it is somewhat fitting.

"You'll never quit me?", you ask, a slight smile on your lips as you pull back slightly. At that, she only tightens her arms around you.

"Never. I will never quit you."

notes: this is literally horrible

[reigns-devotee]

The substitute master list

Part 2

Word Count: 10.7k (she's a huge chapter)

Warnings: Language, forbidden want, angst, 18+

The sharp, repetitive blare of Alicia’s alarm jolted her awake. Her hand shot out from under the plush white comforter, blindly patting the nightstand until her fingers found her phone. She squinted against the glow of the screen as she tapped snooze with a groggy sigh. But there was no point in going back to sleep — she was already awake.  

With a heavy groan, she pushed herself up, the cool air of her room biting against her warm skin. Her hair was a mess of curls, some flattened against her cheek from how she’d slept. She rubbed her eyes with the heels of her hands, blinking a few times to clear the sleepiness.  

Her feet hit the soft, plush carpet, and she sat there for a moment, letting the weight of the morning settle on her. Another day, another class. But today felt... different. She couldn’t quite put her finger on why.  

Shaking off the thought, Alicia moved through her usual routine. She shuffled into the bathroom, turning on the lights with a quick flick of the switch. The bright, clean glow reflected off the marble countertops and mirrored walls, making everything feel a little too sharp for her half-asleep state. She brushed her teeth, rinsed with cold water, and turned on the shower, letting the steam rise and fill the air. The soft sound of running water echoed in the quiet of the condo.  

Her shower was quick but calming, the warmth washing away the last traces of sleep. She let the water run down her face, her mind blissfully empty for a few short minutes. But once she stepped out, wrapping herself in a fluffy white towel, her eyes drifted toward her open closet.  

And that’s when she saw it.  

The white top. 

It hung neatly on a sleek silver hanger, right at eye level, like it was waiting for her. Her lips pressed into a line as she stood there, towel draped around her shoulders, droplets of water sliding down her arms. She tilted her head, narrowing her eyes at it like it had personally offended her.  

"Ugh, not you," she muttered under her breath, running her fingers through her damp curls.  

She knew exactly why it was on her mind. Zoe. Zoe and her big mouth. Wear the top, she’d said. It was supposed to be “iconic,” whatever that meant. And if Alicia knew one thing, it was that Zoe’s version of "iconic" usually meant trouble. 

Her gaze lingered on the top a little too long. It wasn’t flashy — it was simple, clean, fitted just right. But that was the problem. It was too right. It hugged her in all the right places, and every time she wore it, Zoe made it very clear that people noticed.  

Her fingers tapped against her arm as she bit her lip in thought. Just wear something normal. A hoodie. A sweater. Anything safe. She took a step toward the other side of her closet, eyeing her go-to oversized sweatshirts. They were comfortable. Easy. No attention. No stress.  

But her eyes shifted back to the white top.  

Her fingers fidgeted with the edge of her towel, chewing on the inside of her cheek. It’s just a top. It’s not a big deal. But even as she tried to convince herself, her brain threw in one stubborn reminder — he’ll notice. 

Her heart did a tiny flip at the thought. She hated that. Why am I thinking about him? She shook her head, gripping the towel a little tighter around her shoulders. He’s just a sub. It’s not like he cares what I wear.

But still...  

Her gaze flickered back to the top once more, her chest rising and falling in a slow, drawn-out sigh. It wasn’t like she was doing it for him. It was just a shirt. It just happened to look good. Thats all.

She stood there for another moment, eyes locked on it like it was a decision that would change her whole day. 

Her phone buzzed from across the room, pulling her from her thoughts. She glanced toward the bed, already knowing who it was. Probably Zoe, ready to hype her up (or bully her) into wearing the shirt.  

“Okay, fine,” she muttered to herself, turning back toward the closet. Her fingers brushed the fabric, soft and smooth under her touch. Her lips quirked into a small, knowing smile.  

“Iconic, huh?” she whispered to herself, pulling it off the hanger.  

Fine, Zoe. You win.

The white top hugged Alicia like a second skin, sculpting her silhouette in a way that felt just a little too noticeable. As she reached for the cold metal handle of the student center’s glass door, she pulled it open with a firm tug, letting the warm, coffee-scented air rush over her. Her curls shifted as the slight gust followed her inside, and almost instantly, she felt it.  

Eyes.  

She didn’t have to look around to know. People at tables, leaning against walls, scrolling through their phones, or typing on laptops — they glanced up. Some tried to be subtle, others didn’t even bother. She kept her gaze straight ahead, heart thudding in her chest as if it knew something she didn’t.  

Ignore it. You’ve worn this before. It’s just a shirt. But even as she thought it, she tugged lightly at the hem, smoothing it down. Her eyes darted through the crowd, scanning for the familiar sight of Zoe.  

When she spotted her best friend in the far corner, feet propped on the edge of a chair, head tilted back as she scrolled on her phone, Alicia's jaw tensed. No coffee in her hand.  

No coffee on the table.  

No coffee anywhere.  

Alicia narrowed her eyes. She’s dead.  

Her gaze snapped to the left, landing on her next destination — Brews & Muse. The cozy little coffee stand in the center of the student lounge had a line, but not a long one. It wasn’t like she had a choice. Her caffeine levels were at zero, and dealing with Zoe on an empty tank was a death wish.  

Her boots tapped against the smooth floor as she made her way over, dodging a couple of guys deep in conversation and a girl pulling books out of her bag. The smell of espresso and warm vanilla wrapped around her, comforting in a way that only Brews & Muse could pull off.  

The line was short, just two people ahead of her, giving her a moment to glance at the menu overhead — not that she needed to. She ordered the same thing almost every time. Her gaze flickered to the pastry display, and her eyes instantly locked on it. 

The croissants. 

Golden brown. Flaky. Perfectly puffed like little clouds of buttery heaven. Her stomach growled, low but fierce, and she rolled her eyes at herself.  

"Alright, alright, I hear you," she muttered quietly, stepping forward as the line moved.  

Her phone buzzed in her pocket. She pulled it out with one hand, tapping the screen to see the message from Zoe.  

Zoe: girl i know u see me in the corner like a whole celebrity and i know u also see i didn’t bring ur coffee. oops 😏  

Alicia's thumb moved fast.  

Alicia: you better pray i don’t choke you with this croissant when i get over there. 

Zoe: ohhh spicy 😏 i’ll be ready.  

Alicia’s lips pressed into a thin line to stop herself from smiling. She’s so annoying. 

“Next!”  

The barista’s voice pulled her attention back. It was the same guy who’d been working there all semester — tall, broad shoulders, always wore that gray Brews & Muse apron like it was high fashion. His dark hair peeked out from under his cap, and he gave her a grin like he knew something she didn’t.  

“Back again, huh?” he asked, leaning one elbow on the counter like they were old friends.  

“Don’t start with me, Damon,” she said, stepping up to the register. “You already know how this goes.”  

“Croissant and a vanilla iced coffee, right?” He tilted his head, his grin growing. “Or you feeling bold today?”  

“Don’t fix what’s not broken,” she shot back, pulling out her card.  

He tapped a few buttons on the register and raised a brow at her. “You ever think maybe you are broken, and a new order might fix you?”  

Her eyes narrowed playfully as she slid her card into the reader. “Keep it up, Damon, and I’ll take my business to Perk & Pour.”  

He put a hand on his chest, pretending to be wounded. “You’d betray me like that?”  

“Without hesitation,��� she teased, grabbing her receipt as it printed.  

“Cold,” he muttered, shaking his head as he turned toward the pastry display. He slipped a croissant into a small white bag, folded it twice, and placed it on the counter like it was a gift. “But I respect it.”  

By the time she made it to the end of the counter, her iced vanilla coffee was already waiting for her, condensation gathering on the plastic cup. She grabbed it with one hand, the croissant bag with the other, and turned toward Zoe’s table with renewed determination.  

The eyes were still on her. Of course they are. 

But this time, she didn’t care. The buttery smell of the croissant and the sweet, creamy swirl of her vanilla coffee were the only things that mattered. Oh, and maybe strangling Zoe. 

Alicia weaved through the crowd, her iced vanilla coffee in one hand and the croissant bag in the other. The cold condensation from the cup chilled her fingers, but the warmth of the buttery pastry balanced it out. Her gaze stayed locked on Zoe, who was still sprawled in the booth like she owned it, her feet propped up on the chair across from her. She hadn’t even looked up from her phone.  

Bold move, Zoe. Real bold.

“Move,” Alicia said sharply as she reached the table.  

Zoe glanced up, her brown eyes glimmering with mischief. She grinned, slow and smug, like she’d been waiting for this moment. "Well, well, look who decided to grace us with her presence. Miss Main Character herself.” She dropped her feet from the chair, slowly sitting upright as if it took every ounce of effort.  

Alicia slid into the chair across from her, tossing the croissant bag onto the table like a judge slamming a gavel. Her coffee cup followed with a soft thud. “You’re real lucky I was in a good mood today, Zoe.”  

“Oh please,” Zoe leaned forward, her chin resting on her palm, grinning like a cat who’d caught a mouse. "You look too good to be mad today. I know you saw them looking."  

Alicia rolled her eyes, unwrapping the croissant with sharp, deliberate movements. The flaky crust crunched softly as she peeled back the paper, revealing its golden surface. "Yeah, I noticed. Kinda hard not to when everyone’s acting like they’ve never seen a shirt before."  

Zoe snorted, shaking her head. "Girl, it’s not the shirt, it’s you They’re not looking 'cause of fabric. They’re looking 'cause you finally stepped on their necks today.” She waved a hand in the air, like she was presenting a masterpiece. "And I, for one, am so proud of you."  

Alicia arched a brow, biting off a flaky edge of the croissant. “Proud? For what?”  

“For finally listening to me,” Zoe said, leaning back in her seat, arms spread wide. “I told you that top was dangerous and here you are, causing distractions, stopping hearts, making people forget their student loans for five whole minutes. Look at you — doing community service out here.”  

Alicia’s laugh came quicker than she expected, and she shook her head, hiding her smile behind the croissant. “You’re so annoying.”  

“But I’m right,” Zoe said, tapping a finger against the table like she’d just made a closing argument in court. “Tell me I’m wrong.”  

Alicia didn’t answer. She just took another bite of her croissant, eyes drifting to the side where a group of guys from her econ class sat. Sure enough, one of them was looking her way, his eyes flickering between his laptop screen and her like he was trying not to get caught.  

Her heart gave a little thud.  

She looked back at Zoe, who wiggled her brows, clearly having seen it too.  

“See?” Zoe leaned forward, propping her elbows on the table. "You can't fight facts, babe. Just embrace it."  

“Whatever,” Alicia muttered, popping the lid off her iced coffee to stir it with the straw. The creamy vanilla swirl blended into the cold brew, creating a soft caramel-colored gradient. She stared at it for a second too long, letting her thoughts settle.  

Her mind shouldn’t have drifted to him — but it did. Mr. Reigns. 

Take your grades seriously.  

The way he’d said it, like it wasn’t just about her grades. Like it was about her. And then, the way he corrected her when she called him sir. His voice was sharp but smooth, like velvet hiding a blade. Call me Mr. Reigns. She felt the shift in her chest all over again just thinking about it.  

Her fingers tapped lightly against the side of her coffee cup, eyes distant.  

“Uh oh,” Zoe said, snapping her fingers in front of Alicia’s face. “What’s that look? You got quiet.” She tilted her head, eyes narrowing in suspicion. “Don’t tell me you’re thinking about Mr. Reigns right now.”  

Alicia froze, her eyes cutting to Zoe in a panic. “I’m not.”  

Zoe’s jaw dropped, and she let out a loud, dramatic gasp. Her hands slapped the table. "OH. MY. GOD. You are”  

“Zoe, shut up,” Alicia hissed, eyes darting around to see if anyone heard. “You’re literally so loud.”  

“I KNEW IT!” Zoe’s voice was quieter, but her grin was ten times bigger. She leaned in so close their faces were inches apart. “He got in your head, didn’t he?” She tapped her temple with a knowing smirk. “Rent-free, baby.”  

Alicia shoved a piece of croissant into Zoe’s face, smothering her with buttery crumbs. “Eat this and leave me alone.”  

Zoe choked on laughter, pulling back with her hands raised in surrender, still grinning like a maniac. “Okay, okay! But I’m just saying, you might wanna wear that white top again on Wednesday.”  

“Not happening,” Alicia muttered, but she knew Zoe wasn’t going to let it go.  

"Mm-hmm," Zoe hummed, reaching for a napkin to wipe the crumbs off her chin. "We'll see."  

The rest of their conversation shifted to other topics — Zoe’s crush on some guy in her film class, weekend plans, and random TikToks they’d both seen. But no matter how much Alicia tried to focus on the present, her thoughts kept drifting. Mr. Reigns.  

Her phone buzzed.  

She glanced at it, expecting another message from her brother, Nikolai. But it wasn’t.  

It was from an unknown number.  

Her brows pulled together in confusion as she unlocked her phone and opened the message.  

Unknown (10:42 AM): Alicia, I expect you to be on time today. — Mr. Reigns 

Her heart stopped.  

How does he have my number? 

Her hands hovered over the phone screen, unsure if she should reply. Her gaze flicked up, landing on Zoe, who was distracted by whatever video she was watching. For a second, Alicia debated telling her.  

But something about the message felt… personal.  

She stared at it for a few more seconds, feeling her pulse pick up. Slowly, she locked her phone and set it face down on the table. She didn’t tell Zoe.  

Her fingers wrapped around her iced coffee, taking a slow sip. The vanilla was sweet, but her mind was too busy to enjoy it.  

Her heart was still beating too fast.  

The soft hum of voices echoed through the hallway as Alicia and Zoe strolled toward their classroom. Their footsteps tapped lightly against the polished floor, blending in with the shuffle of other students heading to their own classes.  

“We’re early for once,” Zoe said, flipping her hair over her shoulder with an air of accomplishment. “Look at us being responsible citizens of academia.”  

“Don’t get used to it,” Alicia muttered, shifting her tote bag higher on her shoulder. Her eyes flicked toward the classroom door, the faintest trace of nerves bubbling in her chest.  

They stepped inside, the cool air of the classroom immediately wrapping around them. Students were scattered in small clusters, chatting quietly or scrolling on their phones. Zoe made a beeline for their usual seats in the second row, and Alicia followed closely behind, eyes darting around as she scanned the room.  

Her gaze stopped instantly when it landed on him.  

Mr. Reigns.  

He was standing at the front of the room, back to the class, writing on the whiteboard in clean, sharp strokes. His black suit jacket was perfectly tailored, the fabric pulling just right against his broad shoulders every time his arm moved. The smooth line of his back, the precise way he stood — it all felt too intentional. Too controlled.  

Alicia’s heart did a slow, heavy thud.  

Just sit down. Don’t stare. Don’t make it obvious.  

Her eyes darted away as she followed Zoe to their seats. She set her bag on the floor and slid into her chair, smoothing down her white top as if it needed adjustment. Zoe pulled out her notebook with a sigh, tapping her pen lazily against the edge of the desk.  

“Ugh, I forgot to bring a snack,” Zoe groaned, glancing at Alicia. "You got anything in that tote of yours? Gum, candy, a bag of chips, anything?”  

“Nope,” Alicia replied, her voice distant. Her eyes were already drifting toward the front of the room again. She didn’t mean to look, not really. But she had to check.  

Her gaze shifted slowly over her laptop screen, just a peek. Just a glance.  

There he is.  

He’d turned around. His back was no longer to the class. He stood facing them, hands casually in his pockets, his head tilted slightly as he scanned the room like he was taking in every single face at once. But then, his eyes stopped.  

On her.

Alicia froze. Her fingers hovered over the keys of her laptop, but she didn’t type. Her breath came just a little too shallow as she felt it — the weight of his stare. His eyes were sharp, dark, and entirely too focused.  

Her heart thudded again. She dropped her gaze back to her screen, pretending to type something, even though her fingers weren’t moving. Ignore it. He’s just looking around. You’re not special. Stay calm. 

But her hands didn’t stay on the keys.  

Instead, her fingers slipped under the edge of her laptop, slowly, carefully lowering the screen. Her chest tightened as the dim glow from the screen disappeared, her reflection fading into the glossy black. Her hands felt stiff, like they didn’t want to listen to her anymore.  

Her gaze lifted.  

Big mistake. 

Because his eyes were still on her. No longer scanning the room. No longer looking anywhere else. Just her.  

Her throat went dry.  

Her mind scrambled for something, anything logical to tell herself, but all she could do was watch as his eyes lingered, unblinking, steady as stone. But then, something shifted. A flicker. A hesitation.  

His gaze dropped.  

Not far.  

Just an inch or two.  

Her chest.  

A flash of heat shot up her spine so fast it almost made her shiver. Her breath caught, heart pounding so loud she swore it echoed in her ears. It wasn’t a long look, just a split-second slip of his gaze. But it happened. She saw it happen.  

And so did he.  

His eyes snapped back up, sharp and quick, like he’d caught himself too late. His jaw shifted just barely, his teeth pressing together for a half-second. His tongue darted out, a fast flick across his bottom lip before he pulled it back. It was barely a movement at all, but she caught it.  

Her fingers curled into fists on her lap.  

Don’t react. Don’t react. Just breathe.  

But he didn’t flinch. He didn’t look embarrassed. He didn’t apologize. He just turned his head away, eyes focused on the whiteboard as he picked up the marker again. Calm. Collected. Like it never happened.  

Her heart didn’t get that memo.  

“Are you good?” Zoe’s voice snapped her out of it. She was leaning toward her, eyes narrowed like she knew something had happened. “You’re all quiet again, and you only get like that when you’re either plotting or panicking.”  

“I’m fine,” Alicia said quickly, straightening up in her seat and opening her laptop again. The glow of the screen washed over her face, but it didn’t make her feel any less warm.  

Zoe’s eyes narrowed further, her lips pressing together like she didn’t believe a word of it. “Mhm. Sure, okay. Noted.”  

“Zoe, please,” Alicia hissed, tapping at her keyboard like she suddenly had something urgent to type.  

“Okay, okay, I’ll mind my business,” Zoe muttered, holding up her hands. “But I know that look.” She smirked as she sat back in her chair, casually twirling her pen. “It’s the 'I'm thinking about someone I shouldn’t be thinking about' look.”  

“Shut. Up,” Alicia shot back, her voice low but firm.  

“Shutting,” Zoe whispered, still grinning like she’d won something.  

At the front of the room, Mr. Reigns’s voice cut through the quiet hum of the class like a blade. “Alright, everyone, let’s pick up where we left off last week. Laptops open. Notes ready.”  

His voice was calm, steady, deep. The kind of voice that didn’t have to get loud to demand attention. It just took it.  

Alicia’s fingers hovered over the keys. She glanced up one more time, just to see if he was looking at her again. He wasn’t. His eyes were on the whiteboard, marker moving in smooth, effortless lines as he laid out a diagram.  

She breathed out slowly, trying to match the calmness he was putting on display. But the way her heart was still racing told her she wasn’t fooling anyone — not even herself.  

“Notes, Miss Brown ,” his voice cut through the air like a warning shot.  

Her head snapped up. Did he just —  

Her eyes locked with his for the third time that morning. His expression was unreadable, lips pressed into a firm line. His gaze didn’t drop this time. It didn’t shift.  

She quickly glanced down, typing anything just to look busy. Don’t look again. Don’t look again. 

“Don’t fall behind,” he added, his tone cool, detached, but somehow heavier than it needed to be.  

I’m not falling behind. I’m not falling behind. She repeated it like a mantra in her head as she stared at her screen, hands moving with no real direction.  

Zoe’s quiet snicker floated from beside her. Alicia didn’t have to look to know that she’d heard every single word.  

“Yup,” Zoe muttered, still typing on her own laptop. “Rent-free, baby.”

The faint ding of the bell echoed through the classroom, signaling the end of the period. The room came alive with the clatter of laptops closing and chairs scraping against the floor. Students moved in a wave toward the front, handing in their completed assignments with barely a glance at Mr. Reigns.  

Alicia sat back for a moment, fingers still drumming on the edge of her desk. Her notes were neat, her quiz complete, but for some reason, she didn’t feel as relieved as she should have.  

Just get up. Hand it in. Leave.  

She stood, sliding her paper into her hands and walking toward the front of the room. Her heart thudded in her chest with each step, the sound seeming to grow louder with every inch she moved closer to him.  

By the time she reached his desk, she realized she was the last in line. Everyone else had already filed out, the door swinging shut behind them. Her footsteps slowed.  

No big deal. Just drop it off. Easy.  

Her fingers lightly placed the paper on the top of the desk, sliding it into the pile.  

But Mr. Reigns didn’t just take it.  

He reached out slowly, his large hand sliding across the surface to grip the edge of her paper, his fingers curling deliberately. He didn’t look at it. He didn’t look at her either — not at first. Instead, he shifted his weight, sitting back in his chair, his eyes on the paper like he was scanning it for some invisible flaw. Then, with unsettling calm, he set it down, so gentle it barely made a sound.  

Her breath caught in her throat.  

When he finally looked up, it wasn’t quick or casual. It was slow, deliberate, like he wanted her to feel every second of it. Dark, steady eyes locked onto hers, and her body froze in place.  

"Take a seat," he said, his voice calm but firm, like it wasn’t a request.  

Her brow furrowed. "I—"  

“It’s not an option,” he cut her off, his voice sharp as a blade.  

Her breath stilled. Her lips parted like she might protest again, but she stopped herself. She glanced toward the door where the last of her classmates had just disappeared, and for a moment, she considered bolting. But something in his tone, that low, commanding tone, had her sinking back into the chair without a second thought.  

Her palms pressed flat against the cool wood of the desk. Her eyes stayed down. Don’t look at him. Don’t look at him. 

But then she heard it.  

The soft click of his dress shoes against the floor. Slow. Measured. Each step landing like a clock ticking in a quiet room. Tick. Tick. Tick. 

Her head shot up just in time to see him stand.  

Fully upright, he was massive. His frame towered over her, broad shoulders filling the space like a storm cloud that just rolled in. His black suit hugged every inch of his frame — the sharp cut of his jaw, the smooth line of his tie, and the sheer size of his build left no doubt that he had every ounce of control in this room.  

Her heart was in her throat.  

He leaned forward, palms pressed against the desk, his eyes pinned on her with an intensity that made her grip the edge of her chair. His stare lingered for a moment too long before he straightened up, his gaze sharp, calculating. Then, with slow, purposeful steps, he moved.  

Click. Click. Click.  

He circled her.  

Like a lion, his pace was slow, steady, predatory. Her pulse picked up speed as he moved behind her, and her eyes stayed straight ahead. Her back stiffened. She could feel the weight of him, feel him moving even though she couldn’t see him.  

Her eyes darted forward, watching him out of the corner of her vision.  

Don’t turn. Don’t turn around. 

But she could hear his breathing. Not loud, just present — that quiet kind of breathing that you only notice when there’s nothing else making a sound.  

Her heart hammered so hard she was certain he could hear it.  

Then, suddenly, he stopped.  

Right in front of her.  

Her eyes flickered downward for a moment, and that’s when she noticed them — his legs. His thick, solid thighs filled out the fabric of his slacks in a way that seemed almost criminal. The way they strained against the material with every movement was distracting, dangerous.  

Her gaze shot back up, burning with embarrassment. You did NOT just look there. 

But he’d seen it.  

Her throat went dry as she caught the faintest twitch of his lips — a smirk that he wiped away just as quickly as it appeared.  

“First,” he began, his voice smooth but sharp, like honey laced with something bitter. His eyes locked on hers, not blinking, not looking away.  

He stepped forward, slowly closing the distance between them. Her breath hitched, and her legs pressed together instinctively under the desk.  

“You walk in here late,” he said, his eyes glancing briefly at the clock on the wall. The rhythmic tick-tock of it echoed like a countdown. Tick. Tick. Tick.  

Her mouth opened to explain, but his eyes flicked to hers, and whatever excuse she had dissolved on her tongue.  

“Then,” he continued, leaning in just enough for her to feel the shift in the air, “you pull out your phone in the middle of my lesson.”  

Her eyes widened. He saw that She’d only glanced at it once to reply to Zoe’s text. How did he even see that?

Her gaze dropped to her lap, cheeks burning hot. She pressed her lips together, her fingers curling into the fabric of her jeans. Don’t say anything. Don’t make it worse.  

“And,” he said, his voice lower now, more deliberate, as he slowly circled her again. Her eyes followed him this time, her head turning to keep him in her sight.  

Don’t turn your back on a lion.  

He stopped once more, this time directly in front of her. Her heart felt like it was caught in a chokehold, her breathing shallow and quick.  

He didn’t crouch. He didn’t lean in this time. He stood perfectly still, like a storm that hadn’t quite hit yet. His eyes were darker than she remembered, the brown so deep it looked almost black under the classroom lights.  

His gaze trailed downward slowly, inch by inch, and she felt every single second of it like a weight pressing on her chest.  

“And you decide,” he said softly, his words like a hook drawing her in, “to walk in here… wearing that.”  

Her eyes shot up, mouth opening in shock.  

His gaze stayed locked on hers, unwavering. “A shirt that exposes,” his eyes flicked lower, dragging like a slow burn, “more than enough skin.”  

Her breath hitched.  

Her eyes darted down to her top — the one she’d put on that morning without a second thought. It wasn’t even that bad. Sure, it was fitted, and maybe a little more snug than usual, but it wasn’t scandalous. Her mind reeled as she tried to come up with something to say, but no words came out.  

Her heart felt like it was trying to beat out of her chest. Her gaze shot back up, and her eyes met his once more. Don’t look away. Don’t let him see you fold.  

“I wasn’t trying to—” she started, voice quiet, shaky, but his eyes narrowed just a fraction, and she stopped herself.  

He didn’t move. Didn’t blink. He just stared at her like he could see through every word she didn’t say.  

The silence was deafening.  

She swallowed hard, her throat dry as sandpaper. Why does he have to look at me like that?  

“Don’t waste my time with excuses, Miss Pierce,” he said, voice low but sharp. He stepped forward, leaning down just enough so his face was closer to hers. Too close.  

“You’re better than this,” he murmured, his eyes so close that she could see the faint flecks of amber in the brown. “Aren’t you?”  

Her breath felt like it had been stolen from her lungs.  

Here's the revised version of the scene with your requested changes:

“Yes, sir,” she whispered, her voice barely audible, her eyes locked on his, unable to look away.

Mr. Reigns' gaze darkened, and he leaned in just a fraction closer, so close she could feel the heat radiating from his body. His breath brushed against her cheek, making her pulse quicken. His lips barely parted as he spoke. “I told you,” he said, his voice low and dangerous, “don’t call me sir.”

A shiver ran down her spine as his eyes flicked down to her lips, then back up to her eyes. He didn’t step back. Instead, he lingered, hovering just inches from her face. The tension in the air was thick, suffocating.  

His tongue darted out, slowly licking his lips, his eyes never leaving hers. She felt her body freeze, a jolt of something she couldn't name shooting through her, making her feel both exposed and trapped.

He straightened up a little but kept his face close to hers. His lips curled into a faint, almost imperceptible smile — the kind that didn't reach his eyes. “It’s Mr. Reigns,” he corrected, the words dripping from his mouth like poison.  

She swallowed hard, trying to steady her breath, but it was no use. The air was thick with anticipation, and she was caught in it, struggling to breathe, struggling to break free from the magnetic pull of his presence.

Alicia stood in her kitchen, the warm steam from her shower lingering in the air. The soft hum of the refrigerator was the only sound as she pulled open the cabinet to grab a mug, her mind still reeling from the moments in class. Her fingers trembled slightly, but she couldn’t quite pinpoint why — whether it was the tension from earlier or the electric charge that still hummed in her veins. She ran a hand through her damp hair, pushing it back from her face.

The sudden buzz of her phone broke the silence, sending a shockwave through her body.  

She glanced at the screen — the name that made her heart race even faster than it already was. Mr. Reigns.

Her stomach flipped. No way. She had been expecting to hear from him, but she wasn’t sure when or how. Still, there it was.

She hesitated for a moment, biting her lip, before unlocking the phone.  

Mr. Reigns: Did I tell you to call me sir today?

Alicia’s pulse picked up as she read the message. She took a deep breath before responding.

Alicia: Sorry, Mr. Reigns. I won’t do it again.

Her fingers hovered over the screen, wondering if she should add something else — something more daring. But she wasn’t sure how far she could push things. She tapped a few words, then deleted them.  

She sent the message and waited.

Mr. Reigns: Good girl. I’m glad we’re clear on that.

Alicia’s breath hitched, the words on the screen sending a spark straight to her core. She couldn’t believe he was texting her like this, but a part of her couldn’t deny how it made her feel — the mix of curiosity and heat that twisted in her stomach.

She quickly typed back.

Alicia: Understood, Mr. Reigns. Anything else?

She bit her lip again as she hit send, trying to ignore the butterflies swirling in her chest.

Seconds later, the reply came through.

Mr. Reigns: Oh, I think you know what I need. But I’ll let you figure it out for yourself.

Her heart skipped a beat. She read the text again, her fingers trembling as she set her phone down on the counter. Was he… flirting with her? Teasing her? The idea of him letting her figure it out made her stomach twist in excitement.  

But then, another message pinged in. 

Mr. Reigns: “Maybe it’s better if I show you instead.”

Alicia stared at the screen, her heart racing now. The heat building between them felt undeniable, and as much as she wanted to reply, part of her feared what would happen next if she did.  

She typed, her fingers shaky.

Alicia: “Show me? How?”  

She hit send, almost afraid of what he might say.

Seconds passed, then another text appeared, and this time, there was no holding back.

Mr. Reigns: “Let’s just say, it’s more than a lesson you’re going to need.”  

Alicia’s breath caught in her throat. Her phone buzzed again.

Mr. Reigns: “I’ll let you know when. Don’t keep me waiting.”

Her hands were trembling now, the anticipation building until she didn’t know whether to feel nervous or excited. She quickly put her phone down, her chest rising and falling with every shallow breath.

The thought of him — so close, so commanding — kept swirling in her mind. She couldn’t deny the pull she felt toward him, the heat that surged through her as their exchanges became more intense, more... daring.  

But for now, there was nothing more to say. He’d left her hanging, and part of her *loved* that. The uncertainty. The promise of what could come next.  

What the hell have I gotten myself into? she wondered, but deep down, she was more than ready to find out.

It was a lazy Sunday morning, sunlight pouring through Alicia’s large bedroom windows, casting warm golden streaks across her bed. She didn’t have class today, which meant one thing — no rushing, no deadlines, just the slow, blissful ease of doing absolutely nothing. Except today wasn’t just any Sunday.  

Today was party prep day. 

Once a year, like clockwork, Alicia and her best friend Zoe threw the biggest party of the semester. It was a tradition they’d started back in their freshman year, and somehow, it had grown into one of the most talked-about events on campus. People would clear their schedules, rearrange their weekend plans, and beg for an invite. This year was no different.  

The kitchen smelled faintly of vanilla candles, and the soft hum of music played from a speaker on the counter. Alicia stood by the fridge, sipping on a cold bottle of water. Her hair was tied into a loose bun, and she wore a cropped tank top and gray sweatpants that hung comfortably on her hips.  

Zoe sat at the kitchen island, scrolling through her phone with one leg crossed over the other. She looked up with a mischievous grin that Alicia recognized way too well.  

“What if Damon comes?” Zoe asked, her eyes lighting up with excitement.  

Alicia snorted, twisting the cap back on her water bottle. “If Damon comes, he better leave his ego at the door,” she replied, shaking her head.  

“Pfft,” Zoe waved her off. “Please, like that boy even knows what humility is.” She tapped at her phone for a second, then glanced up, her eyes glittering with something far more devious. “Better yet… what if your professor boyfriend shows up?”  

Alicia’s eyes shot up, narrowing on Zoe like a laser. “Ugh, he’s not my boyfriend, Zoe,” she groaned, dragging out the words like they physically pained her. “That’s not… that’s not even professional.” She emphasized the word like it had weight, but even she knew how flimsy it sounded.  

Zoe tilted her head, her lips curling into a grin like she’d just been handed front-row seats to the drama of the year. “Not professional, huh?” she teased, setting her phone down so she could lean forward on her elbows. “Girl, please. I saw the way he looked at you on Tuesday.”  

Alicia’s eyes darted away, suddenly very interested in the pattern of the tile floor. “Nothing happened,” she muttered, crossing her arms.  

“Oh, really?” Zoe raised an eyebrow. “What even happened Tuesday? I never asked 'cause I figured you’d tell me, but you went radio silent. I texted you like, a million times.”  

Alicia rubbed the back of her neck, her fingers pressing into the tension there. “It’s… it’s nothing,” she muttered. But the words tasted like a lie. Her mind flashed back to Tuesday — the steady tick of the classroom clock, the slow circle he made around her desk, his deep, smooth voice, and the heat that rose to her cheeks every time he was too close for comfort.  

Zoe’s eyes widened with realization. She gasped, slapping the counter. “Oh my God, something did happen! Look at you, all fidgety!” She pointed at Alicia like she’d just cracked the code. “Spill. Right now.”  

Alicia sighed, tugging her bun tighter like it would somehow ground her. She glanced at Zoe, debating for a second before giving in. “He… he kept me after class,” she admitted slowly, her voice quieter now.  

Zoe’s jaw dropped. “*And?*” she prompted, practically bouncing in her seat.  

“And… it wasn’t a big deal,” Alicia said, rolling her eyes. But she could feel her face heating up, betraying her. “He just talked to me about… participation and professionalism and… stuff.”  

Zoe tilted her head like she could see straight through the cracks in Alicia’s story. “Stuff?” she repeated, eyes narrowing.  

Alicia waved her hands. “Yes, stuff, okay?” She shot Zoe a look. “He was just being a teacher.”  

“Please.” Zoe leaned back, her grin full of mischief. “You don’t go silent for 24 hours over ‘just teacher stuff.’ You were all up in your head about it, huh? Tell me the truth, Alicia. Did he do that thing where he tilts his head just a little while he’s staring at you, like he’s trying to figure out what’s under your skin?”  

Alicia froze.  

Zoe gasped, pointing at her again. “He did, didn’t he?! He totally did!”  

Alicia grabbed a pillow from the couch and threw it across the kitchen, hitting Zoe square in the arm. “Shut up!” she said, covering her face with her hands. “You’re so annoying, oh my God.”  

“Admit it!” Zoe teased, tossing the pillow back but missing. “He had you flustered. He’s totally into you.”  

“No, he’s not.” Alicia rubbed her temples, trying to massage away the stress. “He’s just one of those intense people who stares too much. You know the type.”  

“Uh-huh,” Zoe said, crossing her arms with a knowing smirk. “Sure, babe. He’s just ‘intense.’” She made air quotes with her fingers. “Keep telling yourself that.”  

Alicia groaned, walking to the sink and splashing her face with cool water. She didn’t want to admit it, not even to herself, but Zoe wasn’t entirely wrong. There was something about the way Mr. Reigns looked at her that felt different — like he was studying her too closely, searching for cracks.  

The memory of his eyes on her chest flashed through her mind, and she quickly shook it off, drying her face with a kitchen towel. Nope. Not thinking about that. 

“Okay, enough about him,” Alicia said, pointing at Zoe like she could command her to drop it. “We have a party to plan, remember?”  

Zoe grinned, not ready to let it go but willing to play along — for now. “Yeah, yeah. But if he shows up, I’m calling it Alicia’s Love Triangle Party.”  

“Don’t you dare,” Alicia warned, her voice firm but her smile threatening to break through.  

“Too late, babe. It’s already trending in my mind,” Zoe said, hopping off the stool to grab her phone.  

The two of them spent the next hour making a list of everything they’d need — snacks, drinks, decorations, and, of course, the perfect playlist. Zoe took charge of the music while Alicia texted a few people to spread the word.  

But no matter how hard she tried to focus on party prep, she couldn’t shake the feeling that someone might actually show up.  

And she had no idea if she’d be ready for it.

The low thrum of bass-heavy music pulsed through the walls of Alicia’s condo, sharp and steady like a racing heartbeat. Warm, colored lights cast shifting hues of blue, purple, and red against sleek modern decor, giving the entire space a nightclub glow. The air smelled like spiked punch, faint vanilla candles, and a hint of citrusy perfume.  

Alicia leaned against the wall near the hallway, her fingers curled around a cool red cup. Her fitted black mini-dress hugged her curves, the soft fabric moving with her every subtle shift. She wasn’t here to stand out — but she always did, whether she wanted to or not. Her sharp cat-eye liner and glossy nude lips caught the colored lights just right, adding to the effortless glow she’d perfected over the years.  

“There you are, superstar.”  

Her eyes flicked up, and there he was — Damon. Of course. Leaning one arm on the wall beside her, his gold chain catching the light just right. His grin was sharp, his dark eyes doing that slow once-over like he was entitled to look. She sighed inwardly, taking a sip of her drink.  

“Damon,” she said flatly, not even bothering to look at him fully.  

“Aw, come on,” he said, flashing that same grin he’d been using on every girl since junior year. “You can’t hit me with the cold shoulder tonight. Not when you’re looking like this.” He tilted his head, his gaze dipping down to her dress, lingering on her legs like he had all the time in the world. “Don’t be like that, Alicia.”  

She didn’t budge, eyes still forward. “I’m not being like anything Damon. Just existing.”  

“Yeah, well, you’re existing real nice tonight.” He stepped in a little closer, his arm dropping from the wall but not enough to back off. He had that casual, cocky stance like he thought being in her space was his right. “How ‘bout you let me steal you for a dance? Just one.”  

She tilted her head at him, eyes narrowing slightly. “Steal me? You’d have to be slicker than that, Damon.”  

His grin widened. “I’m slicker than you think.”  

“Mm-hm.” She took another sip of her drink, slow and deliberate, then fixed him with a raised eyebrow. “And yet, here you are. Talking.”  

That earned a laugh from someone nearby — Zoe. Her best friend stood a few feet away, holding her own cup and watching like it was prime entertainment. Her eyes danced with mischief as she mouthed, Drag him.  

Alicia turned her attention back to Damon. “If you’re so slick, Damon, go prove it on somebody else.”  

His smile faltered just barely, and she caught it. It was quick — too quick for most people to notice — but she’d seen it. He let out a breathy laugh, rubbing his hand over his jaw like she’d actually hurt his feelings.  

“Alright, superstar,” he muttered, eyes flicking to the side like he wasn’t even talking to her anymore. “Guess you got it all figured out.”  

“Been had it figured out,” she shot back, eyes still steady on him. “Now if you’ll excuse me—”  

Her words stopped mid-sentence.  

Because she felt it.  

That prickle on the back of her neck.  

Her gaze flicked to the entrance of the condo, her heart doing that slow, heavy thud. The kind that wasn’t supposed to happen at a party. But there he was. Him. 

Mr. Reigns.  

He walked in like he owned the entire room. His broad frame moved with that same calm, controlled energy she’d seen in class — like nothing could shake him. But tonight? He wasn’t in his usual suit. He was in a plain black T-shirt that clung to his chest and arms just enough to be noticeable, paired with dark jeans that hung low on his hips. He didn’t look like a teacher. He didn’t move like one either.  

People turned to look at him as he walked past, their eyes following him like he was gravity itself. Nobody asked why a grown man was at a college party. They didn’t have to. He had that presence — the kind that didn’t need permission.  

Her throat went dry.  

“Girl…” Zoe whispered, sidling up next to Alicia like she’d just witnessed a plot twist in a TV show. “Tell me that is not Mr. Reigns.”  

Alicia didn’t answer.  

“Alicia.” Zoe’s voice was urgent now. “I know you see him.”  

“Shut up,” Alicia muttered, eyes still locked on him. Big mistake. 

Because the moment she looked, he looked back.

Their gazes met across the room, and her breath caught. Not again. His eyes did that slow sweep — from her face, down to her dress, then back up like he’d just memorized it. The air in her lungs suddenly felt too heavy. He tilted his head, his lips curving into that subtle, knowing smirk.  

“You’re done for,” Zoe muttered, nudging her in the side. “He’s been looking at you like that all week, and now he’s at your party? Girl, pack it up.”  

“I didn’t invite him,” Alicia hissed, eyes narrowing as she stared him down like she could somehow force him to look away first. He didn’t. Of course, he didn’t.  

“Somebody did,” Zoe said, taking another sip from her cup. “And if I had to guess? He didn’t come for the punch.”  

Before Alicia could respond, she felt movement beside her. Damon. Of course.  

“Yo, who’s that?” he asked, his eyes narrowing in on Mr. Reigns like he’d just spotted a rival in his territory.  

Alicia didn’t answer, but Damon kept going.  

“Lookin’ kinda old to be here, huh?” He tilted his head, lips pursed in that cocky, confrontational way guys do when they feel threatened. “You know him?”  

“Yeah,” Alicia said simply, her eyes still on Mr. Reigns.  

“Yeah?” Damon echoed, his voice sharper now. “How?”  

She exhaled through her nose, finally glancing at him. “He’s my teacher.”  

“Your teacher?” Damon blinked like he’d misheard her. He glanced back at Mr. Reigns, his face twisting into something closer to disbelief. “Man, what kinda teacher pulls up to a party like this?” He let out a short laugh, but it didn’t sound real. “He supposed to be here for, what, extra credit?”  

Alicia’s jaw tightened, and she stepped away from the wall, eyes locked on Mr. Reigns.  

Forget it. She wasn’t about to stand there and let Damon turn it into a whole scene. She cut through the crowd, heels clicking against the floor until she was at the kitchen counter, refilling her drink with sharp, deliberate movements.  

“Long night already?” a low, familiar voice asked behind her.  

Her breath stilled.  

Slowly, she glanced over her shoulder, already knowing who it was. Mr. Reigns. He was closer than he should’ve been, standing at her side like he’d been there for hours. Her fingers gripped the edge of the counter tighter than necessary.  

“Something like that,” she muttered, turning to face him, her eyes narrowing. “You’re a long way from the front of the classroom, Mr. Reigns.”  

His lips tugged into a slow, easy smile. “Not that long,” he said, eyes on her and only her. 

Her heartbeat drummed in her ears, matching the bass of the music. She tilted her head, raising an eyebrow. “How’d you even know about this party?”  

His smile widened just a little, like he’d been waiting for her to ask. He leaned in, not enough to crowd her, but enough to make her pulse trip.  

“I have my ways,” he murmured, voice like smoke curling through her ears. “You’d be surprised what I hear.”  

Her eyes darted to his, and she swore he was enjoying this. Too much.

“Surprised?” she repeated, lips parting with disbelief. “You do know you’re a whole teacher, right?”  

He leaned back, that smirk still on his face. “And you’re a whole student.” His eyes did that slow sweep again. “Guess we both forgot for a second.”  

Her breath caught. She hated how fast her heart was going.  

“I didn’t forget,” she muttered, eyes steady on his.  

“Didn’t say you did,” he replied, his eyes flashing with something sharp.  

And just like that, he was gone, walking off like he hadn’t just set her whole world on fire.  

“Girl…” Zoe appeared at her side, eyes wide. “You’re done for.”  

Yeah. She was.  

The music throbbed like a second heartbeat, loud and relentless, its bass vibrating through the floor. Multicolored lights flickered in sync with the rhythm, washing over the crowd in waves of blue, red, and purple. Bodies moved together, fluid and wild, a tangle of limbs and heat. The air was thick with the mingled scents of sweat, spilled liquor, and faint perfume. It was the kind of chaos Alicia loved — no expectations, no rules, just movement and music.

Her head buzzed, warmth spreading from her chest to her limbs with each drink she’d downed. It wasn’t until the fifth — or was it sixth? — that her laughter became louder, her movements looser. Her hands were in the air, fingers brushing the air like she could catch the music itself. She threw her head back, hair spilling down her shoulders in a wave of soft curls. Her eyes were half-lidded, lips parted in an easy, careless grin.

Damon’s hands were on her hips.

Her body rolled to the beat, fluid and instinctive, like she’d been born for it. Damon’s hands guided her, his fingers pressing lightly against her waist as he matched her rhythm. His breath was hot against her ear, words she didn’t fully catch slipping past his lips — something about how good she looked, how she’d been "playing too hard to get." She didn’t care. Not tonight. Her world had narrowed to the pulse of the music, the glow of the lights, and the fire spreading in her veins.

“Damn, girl,” Damon muttered, voice low and rough. His grip tightened just a bit, like he thought he could claim her if he held on long enough. “Finally letting loose, huh? ‘Bout time.”

Alicia laughed, her head tilting back so she could look at him over her shoulder. Her smile was hazy, her eyes slow to focus. “Don’t get too excited, Damon,” she teased, twisting her hips a little sharper, pulling away just an inch before rolling back against him. “You’re still not special.”

His grin widened. “Yeah? You’re makin’ it real hard to believe that right now.”

Her eyes closed for a moment, letting herself sink into the music, the feel of it in her bones. Her hands slid up her own sides, fingers grazing the fabric of her dress like she needed to feel it to remember it was there. Her heart was racing, her blood alive with the rush of it all. Her mind floated somewhere above her body, untethered and free.

Then everything stopped.

It was sudden — a shift in the air, like a vacuum had sucked out all the noise and left only a single, sharp presence behind her. The warmth on her hips disappeared. Her heart lurched as a strong hand gripped her arm, firm but not rough. She whipped her head around, ready to snap at Damon for being too handsy — but it wasn’t Damon.

Mr. Reigns.

Her breath caught. Her whole body went still. Her gaze snapped to his face, and her heart skipped, not from the alcohol this time, but from the sharp, searing intensity in his eyes. His jaw was tight, his lips pressed into a flat line that said more than any words could. His fingers curled just slightly around her arm, not enough to hurt, but enough to remind her he was there — and he wasn’t happy.

“Come with me,” he said, his voice low and controlled, the kind of tone that didn’t need to be loud to be dangerous.

Her brow furrowed, confusion and defiance flashing in her hazy gaze. “What are you—” she started, but he was already moving. His grip didn’t waver as he pulled her away from the center of the dance floor. She stumbled, her heels catching on the slick wood for half a second before she found her footing. “Hey—what—”

“Quiet,” he ordered, glancing at her over his shoulder, his eyes sharp and unyielding. It wasn’t a request. It was a command.

Her mouth opened, a protest on the tip of her tongue, but she swallowed it. Maybe it was the shock of seeing him there — here, at this party, dressed in dark jeans and a plain black T-shirt that hugged his chest and arms just right. He didn’t look like a teacher. He didn’t look like anything safe.

Her eyes darted to Zoe, who stood at the edge of the crowd, wide-eyed and frozen. Zoe’s mouth opened like she was about to say something, but she stayed quiet, her eyes darting between Alicia and Mr. Reigns like she was trying to solve a riddle. Damon’s face was twisted in confusion, brows drawn low as he watched Alicia get pulled away.

“Yo, man,” Damon called, stepping forward. “Where you think you’re takin’ her?”

“Away from you,” Mr. Reigns said without looking back, his voice sharp as the crack of a whip.

“The hell you are,” Damon muttered, stepping forward like he was going to follow, but Zoe’s hand shot out, grabbing his wrist.

“Don’t be stupid, Damon,” Zoe warned, her eyes locked on Mr. Reigns' back. “Trust me. You don’t want that fight.”

The stairs loomed ahead, each step creaking underfoot as Mr. Reigns led her up, his grip firm but not painful. Alicia’s heart pounded harder now, her pulse in her ears. She twisted her arm just slightly, testing his hold, but it didn’t budge. Her eyes flicked up to his face, sharp with shadows from the dim hallway lights.

“Where are we going?” she demanded, her voice lower now, her earlier bravado starting to crack.

“Upstairs,” he said, glancing down at her, his eyes unwavering. “Where it’s quiet.”

“I don’t need quiet,” she snapped, planting her heels against the step to slow him down. “I’m fine. Let me go.”

He turned, looking at her fully now, his eyes darker than she’d ever seen them. Not angry. Something else. Something heavier. His hand didn’t move from her arm.

“You’re not fine, Alicia,” he said, his voice so low it sent a shiver down her spine. “You’re drunk. And you’re dancing with people you shouldn’t be.”

Her eyes narrowed. “I can dance with whoever I want.”

“Not like that,” he replied, his eyes flicking to her lips for a second too long before snapping back up. “Not tonight.”

Her breath hitched, and she hated that he’d noticed. Hated it even more that she’d felt it, too. Her heart was still racing when they reached the top of the stairs, the hallway dark except for the faint glow of a distant lamp.

He opened the first door on the right and pulled her inside. Her bedroom. Her pulse jumped in her throat as the door clicked shut behind them.

“Sit,” he ordered, nodding to the bed. “Now.”

Alicia laughed, the alcohol getting to her more now. "You complain about me on campus, now you're complaining in my home," she said, eyes half-lidded but sharp with challenge. Her words carried that telltale looseness that came from too much punch, but her voice still had that edge of defiance.

Mr. Reigns didn’t respond right away. He leaned against the closed door, arms crossed over his chest, his eyes fixed on her like she was a problem he’d been assigned to solve. The soft glow from the hallway light framed him in shadows, his broad shoulders taking up too much space in the doorway. His gaze never wavered, steady and unyielding, and that only made Alicia’s pulse tick faster.

"Mr. Reigns, the big and bad substitute teacher. Thirty-four years old at a twenty-three-year-old’s party. How appropriate," she said, lifting her cup like she was toasting him, her grin slow and teasing.

His jaw ticked, the muscle there flexing as he held back whatever response had been on the tip of his tongue. "Careful, Alicia," he warned, his voice a low rumble that vibrated through the room. "You’re walking a line you don’t want to cross."

She stepped forward, hips swaying with an exaggerated confidence that the alcohol made her believe she had. Her eyes narrowed as she tilted her head up to meet his gaze. "Oh, but isn’t that what you like? People walking lines they shouldn’t? Isn’t that why you’re here, Mr. Reigns?" Her voice lilted with sarcasm, sharp and sweet like a sugared blade.

He uncrossed his arms and took a slow, deliberate step forward. It wasn’t fast, but it was enough to make the air shift in the room, heavy and thick with tension. Alicia’s breath caught, her heart drumming a little harder now, not from fear, but from something else she didn’t want to name.

"You think you know me," he said quietly, his eyes dropping to her lips for a brief, dangerous second before snapping back up to hers. "But you don’t."

Her grin faltered for half a second, but she leaned into it, chin tilting up in defiance. "I know enough. You’re here, aren’t you? No suit. No tie. Just a guy at a party he has no business being at." She took another step forward, close enough now that she had to tilt her head back just a little more to hold his gaze. "So tell me, Professor, how did you even know about this party?"

He raised a brow, his lips twitching like he was holding back a smile. "You think people don’t talk? You think your name doesn’t come up?" His eyes flicked down her frame, slow enough to make her feel every inch of his gaze. "They talk about you, Alicia. Loudly."

Her breath hitched, but she didn’t back down. "Yeah? And what do they say?"

He leaned in, so close now that she could see the faint stubble on his jaw, the sharp line of his cheekbone. His voice dropped to a murmur, low and dangerous, like he was sharing a secret only she could hear. "They say you like to play with fire. They say you think nobody can touch you." His gaze met hers, steady and unwavering. "But you forget what happens when you get too close to something that burns."

Her heart stuttered in her chest, her throat tight with something she couldn’t name. Her fingers curled into her sides, nails pressing into her palms like an anchor.

"Maybe I like the burn," she shot back, her voice quieter now but no less sharp. "Maybe that’s why you’re still standing here."

They stared at each other for a moment too long, the air thick with things neither of them was willing to say. The music downstairs was a distant thump, the voices of the party muffled beneath the heavy weight of the silence in her bedroom.

He pulled back just an inch, his eyes still locked on hers. "You should sit down, Alicia," he said, his voice firm, quiet, but final. "Before you say something you can’t take back."

Her chest rose and fell with slow, deep breaths, her gaze still locked on him. But after a beat, she turned and sat on the edge of her bed, her back straight, her chin lifted like she was the one calling the shots.

She watched him as he leaned back against the wall, arms crossed again, his gaze still sharp and unmoving.

"You’re still here," she said, tilting her head, eyes narrow and curious. "What does that say about you, Mr. Reigns?"

He didn’t answer right away. Just stared. His silence was louder than anything he could’ve said.

"Guess we’ll both have to figure that out," he said finally, his eyes never leaving hers.

His gaze darkened as he stepped forward, slow and deliberate, his presence swallowing up the space around her. His eyes dropped, lingering too long on her face before sliding lower, the weight of it enough to make her breath hitch. He tilted his head, his eyes sharp and unreadable as he said in a voice low and rough, "You do crazy things to me, Alicia." His hand shifted to the front of his jeans, gripping himself through the fabric where the strain was undeniable. "Things I can’t stop thinking about."

Her breath caught in her throat, and she watched him, her gaze darting between his face and the unmistakable evidence of his desire. The air grew thicker, heavier, charged with an intensity that wrapped around them like a vice.

His eyes found hers again, and he let out a slow, quiet exhale through his nose. "Ever since I saw you for the first time, you’ve been in my head," he murmured, his voice grittier now, rough like gravel. "You’re a storm I can’t get away from. I want to punish you for it." His hand tightened briefly, his fingers pressing into the fabric of his jeans before he released it, letting his arm fall to his side.

Her heart pounded so hard it echoed in her ears, but she couldn’t bring herself to look away. She knew she should say something — anything — but every word was caught in her throat.

He took one step back, just enough to give her space, his eyes never leaving hers. "But not tonight," he said, his tone final and absolute. "Not like this. Not when you’re like this." His gaze flicked to the half-empty cup on the dresser, then back to her face. "When you’re sober, we’ll see if you still want to play with fire."

She blinked slowly, the weight of his words settling over her like a blanket too heavy to throw off. The air felt colder when he stepped away, like the heat he’d brought with him had been snuffed out.

She stayed on the bed, heart racing, mind whirling with too many thoughts she couldn’t sort through. Her eyes stayed on him as he walked to the door, one hand gripping the handle.

He glanced back once, his eyes darker than they’d ever been.

"Goodnight, Alicia," he said, his voice still low and rough, and then he was gone.

Tag List: @isabella-2025 @trentybenty @potatosackk

[serafilms]

song 35! candy (nct dream) + nishimura riki (spotify wrapped event)

honestly, today's the day, i’m gonna break up with you, i’m going to go see you, hope you'll understand

closest to a happy niki fic we’ll get i guess 😢 but happy birthday to the coolest guy on the planet (a year younger than me and still eating up my whole life’s achievements in one fancam) 🥳 requested by @sammm5225

“I love you.”

Riki freezes. What. Why did I say that? Did I just say that?

He did, in fact, just say that, and his face flushes as yours does too.

“W-what?”

Well, he has to commit to it now. “I love you,” he repeats.

Your cheeks redden even further and he can’t help but feel his stomach flutter. “I love you too,” you say, and Riki knows he’s absolutely fucked.

Because there’s no way he just said that, not now, not the day when he was supposed to break up with you.

Nishimura Riki woke up this morning with a warm feeling in his chest. He felt different today. The sun was shining on his face and the air was crisp and he felt light as his feet touched down on the floor. It was a good day, as good a day as any, but something was different about it. He checked his phone and saw a text from you.

Y/N: hii are we still on for today??

Right. Your date at the park today. He felt a twinge of guilt. He totally forgot about that, if he was being honest. He realised now that he’s barely even thought of you the last few days. Was that why you were asking?

Part of him wanted to cancel, because at that moment, Riki just didn’t really want to be around you. Not that he dislikes you, but he thought he’d rather stay home and just chill while watching a movie, or go to the dance studio or play football with his friends.

Riki looked at himself in the mirror in his room. His eyes shifted to the polaroid stuck in the top left corner. It was a photo of the two of you. You’re both smiling and you have a peace sign up next to your face, while his arm is looped around you and his hand is pinching your cheek on the other side.

He smiled at it with some fondness, but even that wasn’t enough to stir his heart. Nishimura Riki is not the type to make impulse decisions. But he does like to base them off of the logistics, and the fact was that he didn’t think he felt anything for you anymore. He still cared about you for sure, and he hoped that you’d still talk sometimes, but the jig was up. The expiration date on your relationship had passed and he thought that today might be the day to throw it away.

He picked up his phone and sent a quick affirmative text. Short and sweet, but not enough to make you think he was super excited for it. Because he was not excited, of course! What kind of psycho would be excited to break up with someone?

“But it is a beautiful day,” he admitted to himself as he walked down the street. The park wasn’t too far from his house, and he wanted to enjoy the time to himself on this lovely walk. Then, as he walked under the shade of a tree, something dropped right in front of him. He looked down and saw a tiny puddle of white and green liquid, right in front of his shoe. Bird poop. Riki stared down in disbelief. Well, thank god it didn’t land on him. They say this is good luck anyway, or something like that.

He stepped over it with a wrinkled nose and continued to walk down the street with his hands in his jacket pockets. By the time he arrived at the park, he could already make out your figure waiting on a bench. You were wearing a parka and your nice jeans, and your hair was neatly styled, and Riki felt a little bad that you put so much effort in. He’d try and let you down easy, he thought.

“Hi Y/N.”

“Riki, hey!” you greeted him with a pretty smile and stand to meet him. When he approached, he felt a jolt of shock when you grab his hand and lean towards him. Before he could stop you, you’d kissed him square on the mouth. Something tickled at his heart and he blinked in surprise before regaining his composure. Okay, this is fine. You’re fine, Riki. Be normal.

“I- uh, do you wanna go get some ice cream?” he asked. Yes, back on track. He’d get a jump on the gun so once he’d broken up with you, you would already be equipped with some dessert to console you. Maybe that’d soften the blow.

“Sure,” you beamed.

Riki led the way to the ice cream truck. He ordered your favourite for you without thinking, and regretted it instantly when you gave his hand a squeeze and leaned into his side.

“Aw, you two make a cute couple,” said the ice cream vendor as he handed you the ice cream.

“Thank you,” you said back.

Yeah, thanks a lot, ice cream guy, Riki thought bitterly. This was not going to be easy. But he knew what he wanted, and he had to stay strong.

As the two of you made your way to a spot under the tree where you usually sit, he steeled himself. He could totally do this.

His ice cream was left untouched as you both sat on the grass and he looked at you happily eating away. Okay, here goes nothing.

“Hey Y/N? I need to talk to you about something.”

You looked a little surprised at his sombre tone but you nodded anyway. Riki’s heart was beating very fast and he’d starting to panic a little bit. Okay, a lot. God, I’m about to go into cardiac arrest. He could see the headlines now. Nishimura Riki dies of heart failure at 18.

He looked out at the park, the grass green, the sun shining above him. The sky was so clear, so beautiful, and his heart seemed to stop for a moment, almost as if being rebooted before it started back up at a mostly normal pace. Something shifted inside him and he wasn’t sure what it was, but he was turning and looking at you and suddenly you looked like the most beautiful person in the world.

Your eyes were wide and glistening like some sort of anime character and your lips looked so pink and kissable, and now his mouth was opening before he’d even realised it.

“I love you.”

“W-what?”

“I love you.”

“I love you too.”

He’s speechless. You’re blushing and he can feel himself doing the same. Well, he messed that up. But it’s okay. He can work with this. Nishimura Riki swears he will never leave your side again. That’s a promise.

once again happy birthday ni-ki ‼️‼️ AND HAPPY CANDY SEASON EVERYONE START LISTENING TO CANDY YOU CAN ONLY STOP ON DEC 31ST 🍬

[blushingwife]

I've Got You - a soft!Ghost x OC short story

When I say I'm very anxious about posting this, I mean I'm *deathly* anxious. HOWEVER. I'm so very proud of myself for completing this. You did it, hun :) This is what I've chosen to kickstart my "writing career". I decided to indulge in my deepest guilty pleasure: soft!Ghost. My teenage self would gag at how cheesy this is but you know what? She was lying to herself because she loved the cheesy stuff. There's something in me that wants to keep writing for her. So I think I will. I hope someone enjoys this as much as I loved writing it. More to come. CW: some self-deprecating thoughts. Otherwise, just pure unadulterated fluff.

Failing at his attempt to not panic was causing Simon to panic even more. It wasn’t the first time he’d felt scared in this relationship with Liz. The initial few weeks had been a constant battle with himself to stop believing she would leave once she realized his facade was a scam. A feeling had nagged at the back of his mind telling him he was a fool to trust her. That he was setting himself a trap. Then, the first time they’d argued with intensity, he’d been ready to end it and spare her from the effort and pain. But, truthfully, the thought of leaving was more painful than feeling unworthy of her. They both wished to do better. He’d apologized. She’d apologized. They’d basked in each other’s company after that and realized the experience had brought them closer to understanding how to make it work.

In time, his instincts calmed down. He learned to lean on her when he needed support and also to be her support as needed. So the current rising panic in his gut brought him to those first months and he did not like it one bit.

He kept playing with the loop of his black tie, never quite satisfied with its position. Liz’s younger brother was getting married, the first in the family. Everyone was coming, no matter how remotely they knew the bride and groom. Simon had never been anyone’s plus one before. Was convinced he’d never be. But as he raised his eyes from his neck to the deep brown irises of his reflection in the mirror in front of him, he remembered all of this was as real as it was gonna get. And after today, it would be official. All her family would know they were together.

“You’re fidgeting,” Liz’s voice said behind him. He forced the tension in his neck away with a quick roll of his shoulders.

“’M not” He dropped his arms as a pair of hands rounded his waist and then her weight settled on his back.

“Right.” He could almost feel her amused smirk. “You’re not.”

He raised his arm and reached back, inviting her forward. Liz slid underneath it to his side, never leaving the embrace. She raised her hand to his tie, arranging it exactly to where he wanted it to be, then glanced at him.

“You look handsome.” She kissed his cheek. Simon leaned his head toward her but kept staring into the mirror, into that maskless face that was supposed to be him but felt like someone else.

She ducked her head into his neck as she studied him through the mirror, trying to guess what it was that kept Simon’s attention.

“It’ll be okay,” she whispered. That made Simon divert her eyes to her reflection. “Whatever you’re worried about. It’ll be okay.”

He turned his head to her real self, getting trapped in the depths of her eyes. He swallowed the urge to deny her statement, out of habit. It was still not easy to believe that she actually meant her words. “Yeah,” he agreed, then pressed a light kiss on her lips.

“I’ll be with you,” she said, pressing her palm to his chest. “You know that, right?”

He nods, shifting his stance toward her to pull her into a hug that he felt deep into his soul. The knot in his stomach relaxed when she didn’t press for further explanations. He should tell her what was going through his head. He’d always felt better when she knew. This wouldn’t be any different. Would it?

“Come on,” she pushed him back gently. “We need to get going.”

As they separated, Simon kept his grip on her hand and followed her out of their apartment into the elevator to the garage. They were silent the whole time but she drew small circles in his hand with her thumb. It grounded him. Left room in his mind meanwhile to gather the courage to tell her why he was anxious.

She offered him the car keys as they approached her vehicle. He tilted slightly his head at her as a silent question and she shrugged.

“Not really in the mood to drive,” she explained scrunching her nose. Simon took the keys as Liz dropped them in his hand, then entered the driver’s seat, started the engine and began the ride.

Liz spent most of the silent trip sparing brief glances at him, hoping she wasn’t making him too uncomfortable with her observation. He was gripping the steering wheel too hard almost since they had left. For a whole minute she thought she might have been paranoid, seeing things that weren’t there out of a desire to understand, but she’d watched him enough to know the difference between him being alert and being nervous. Something was bothering him. None of her theories were enough to bring proper conclusions.

“Simon?”

His hands relaxed in an unconscious reflex. His eyes moved for a second toward her before turning to the road ahead.

“Are you okay?” she asked. He rolled his shoulders again, giving her a nonchalant look.

“Sure” She glanced down. Wrong question to ask.

She looked at him for a long time, unable to figure out her next words. How to help him. None of the sentences she thought about seemed decent enough. He would shut down or lie. She swallowed a sigh. It was beyond frustrating. Feeling like being there for him wasn’t enough.

“What?” he asked and arched an eyebrow at her once he noticed she’d been staring. She pursed her lips into a slight smile.

“I love you.”

She had said it so easily he was unable to hide his own grin. His scalp and cheeks warmed. He switched his own palm from the wheel to underneath hers as it rested on her leg and clenched it firmly. Something inside his body stirred uncontrollably every time he heard those words. He wanted to think his actions talked louder. That he always demonstrated his love for her through small daily acts. Trying to say it out loud still felt scathing. Like it would become a duty he needed to step up for while in reality he had nothing to offer. And yet, when he dared ask her why she had not given up on him, her answer was always the same: she didn’t want anything else.

He straightened in his seat as he realized. Yes, he was still scared. Of not being worthy of it. Of fucking it all up. If he said it… there was no going back. But wasn’t he already too far down at this point?

The sound of the GPS reminded him they were arriving at the venue.

The crowd started from the parking lot. Not even minding the unrelenting heat of the sun above their heads, little groups of people talked and laughed while others headed toward the yard or restaurant beside it. Simon chose to park further down, a bit more isolated from where most cars were. He switched off the engine, glancing to his left at the building as Liz stepped outside. Too many people to meet. Would they consider him enough for her, like Liz did? He didn’t want to know.

Liz had walked out and to his side of the car. Her eyes were on him, expectant. He stood, closed the car behind him, then took Liz’s hand in his. As he started walking, Liz pulled him back.

Simon swung to her as she dug inside her tiny party purse and brought out a carefully folded piece of black cloth with white paint.

“I brought it for you,” she said, as she offered his old ghost mask. Simon blinked, tempted by the offer to hide behind his usual facade. He shook his head and she tilted hers to the side, inquisitive. He was not about to turn back on his decision.

“I want to make a good impression on your family.”

She frowned.

“They already know you.”

For the last couple of years, her family had already hosted several Christmas parties and other gatherings to which the 141 was invited. Yes, they’d met Ghost. But they hadn’t met Simon.

“It’s not the same.”

She watched him, as she usually did and only put aside the mask in her purse when Simon pushed her hand down in confirmation. Then, she closed the distance between them as he glanced to the ground. She lifted her hands to his cheeks and forced him to look at her.

“Why not?”

“It just isn’t”

She caressed his cheeks with her thumbs. “Okay. Well… You know you’ve already made a good impression, right?”

He slid his arms around her in silence, holding on to the comfort of her presence.

“They have loved having you around. A mask didn’t make a difference.” She leaned forward, bringing his forehead to hers. His frown deepened Liz’s own. Her heart accelerated in silent outrage.

“Do you know why I know?” she asked. He waited.

“Because wearing it or not, I still see the same man I fell in love with.”

He swallowed thickly. Closing the distance to her lips with his own, he savored her sweet taste like a man drinking in a desert oasis. When they parted for air, Simon leaned into her neck and closed his eyes, trying to print the memory of her scent into his brain as she slid her arms above his shoulders.

“I’ve got you, okay?”

He nods as she strokes his scalp soothingly. She was in no hurry.

“I love you too,” he said, after a while, before the impulse grew weaker.

Her grin lit up her whole face.

“I know.”

When they separated, she was the one to kiss him one last time before walking toward the venue hand in hand, his step lighter than what she had seen for the entire day.

As they made their way toward the entrance, Simon instantly recognized Liz’s mother, Mrs. Hale, a woman in a pale green floral dress with a slight hunch, gray hair in a high bun and still commanding her surroundings with a kind smile. Judging by her welcoming stance and eagerness to spare a greeting to everyone passing, she had taken the role of greeter and guide, pointing out areas of the venue. When Liz and Simon came in, almost the last ones in the queue, the woman immediately lit up at his sight.

“My! Dear, how wonderful to see you again,” she said, going straight for a hug towards a stunned Simon. As far as he remembered, the woman had never seen him before without his mask.

“Good to know you missed me, Mum” Liz retorted with a chuckle “You know I always do but him, I don’t see him that often.” They parted and it was Liz’s turn for a motherly hug.

“How’d you know who I was?”

The woman turned to Simon again with a wide grin, the skin around her eyes wrinkling deeper but in the same way that Liz did when she smiled.

“How could I not?” she waves away his puzzled expression as if it were obvious what she meant. “Dear, let me introduce you to the other side of the family, come, you two,” she urged, then walked further inside without concern about the last of the guests she hadn’t greeted.

Liz felt Simon’s hesitation but she squeezed his hand and when he looked at her, she nodded again to let him know she would be right beside him. Always.

[ddejavvu]

you’ve probably done something like this before but stepdad hotch when the reader comes back late after a hookup or smth and he’s just pissed off cause like..what??

today is multiverse monday! send me any au you can think of :)

this post is 18+ and dark, minors dni.

You're a master at opening the door silently, but it doesn't matter, because Aaron is sitting in the living room when you get back.

You freeze up when the door swings open and reveals him, and at the sight of your too-short shorts, he does too.

Then he speaks, voice low and sharp, "Where have you been?"

"Out." You shrug, slipping your keys back into your pocket, "I don't have a curfew. I'm not a kid."

"Out? Oh," He chuckles, but there's absolutely no humor in the sound, "You mean out in the driveway? That engine was loud. Did you really think no one would see you two through the windows? You really thought it was a good idea to fuck in the backseat like some cheap hookup?"

"It was a cheap hookup!" You fume, "All he had to do was pay for dinner."

Aaron's jaw clenches, and he squeezes his eyes shut, "You are worth more than that."

"What, you think a hookup determines my worth? I know I'm worth more than dinner, Aaron," You huff, "But I don't define my worth by my body, or who I give it to."

"I'm not saying that you're only worth your body," He scoffs, "I'm just saying you deserve better. You deserve someone who takes you inside and doesn't bend you against the center console."

Your nose scrunches, your chest hot, "Were you watching?"

"No! I wasn't watching," Aaron insists, his eyes blazing, "All I'm saying is that you don't have to cram yourself against a car door to get a quick fuck."

"No one's offering anything else," You laugh, sarcasm bleeding through the raw cracks in your voice, "What am I supposed to do, huh? Who's lined up to romance me, Aaron? You know someone?"

He looks to the ground. It's the first time he's broken your gaze since you stepped through the door, and it makes you feel like you've won, somehow.

"Go to your room," He murmurs face faintly rose-colored, "Clean up. You need to rest."

"What?" Your stomach churns slightly at his shift in tone, softness not a typical component of his grumble.

"Did he- are you... okay?" Aaron glances back up at you through his lashes.

"I'm fine." You mumble cautiously, "It.. it was fine."

He stalks off to the kitchen without another word, a scowl on his face.

You walk up the stairs with an uneasy feeling in your stomach. You like testing boundaries with him; he's easy to rile up and some rebellion leftover from your teenage years helps your case. But this seemed different, he... broke.

Changing into your pajamas feels nice, the soft fabric a stark contrast against your skin from the jeans and sticky underwear. When you step out of the bathroom with a clean body but a muddled mind, Aaron is sitting on your bed.

You stiffen at his presence, and he stands.

"There's water there," He motions to your nightstand, "And a cookie. Just... rest. Okay?"

You eye the chocolate treat on your side table warily, "Thank you?"

"Yeah. And sleep in tomorrow," He orders, stern once more after his strange lapse of grouchiness, "I'll tell Jack to leave you alone."

You slip under your bedsheets in lieu of a response, reaching for the water to take a sip. It only delays your response more, and Aaron stands there awkwardly.

"Thanks," You finally breathe, throat refreshed and muscles relaxing against your mattress.

He looks like he wants to tuck you in, fingers twitching at his sides. He stares for just a moment too long, then meets your eyes once more to nod silently. Once.

"Goodnight," He murmurs, letting himself out and shutting the door behind him. He's such a presence that your room feels empty without him, too empty. The cookie helps, though, heart-shaped and chocolatey, just as gooey as the feeling in the pit of your stomach as you recall Aaron's pinky cheeks.

[oumaheroes]

Now I have to send this answer back to you! Do you feel you have changed the way you write England (and France!) since the beginning? In what ways do you think you have improved when writing them?

Oh GOD yes!

On England:

I used to write him more as per old fandom norms: stereotypically tsundere, grumpy, quick to react, and emotionally a bit all over the place in regards to how he came to certain conclusions. All from the anime, of course, which definitely flavoured how the fandom wrote and portrayed him as a whole

But mostly, he's unchanged. Most of those traits didn't last too long for me. As soon as I tried writing him in a long form story he rigidly rebelled haha. He's always had a very strong and set personality in my head and my Arthur from 2011 is the same guy he is for me today, just with a few more bells and whistles that I've since chipped off

The main ways he's changed I think is just through me improving as a writer and being able to better understand and portray nuance. I think he's a very complciated person, very layered and confusing even to himself, and whilst on the surface he might be contrary or stubborn the reasons he has for his behaviour make sense to him. I wasn't very good at showing this when I started out writing and my early Arthur is clearly written by a less mature writer and person. As I've grown, he's grown with me

On France

Boy, my old France got the short end of the fandom stick whacked at him. Unlike Arthur, who has always been himself with me for the most part, my old Francis personality was much more fandom incarnate from the early twenty tens. Bit of a sexual leech, a nudist, a party animal... a bit of a silly show piece with not too much thought into him. Dramatic for no reason

I think my old France is probably still recognisible as the character I write today for the most part, but I've since taken away all of the old silly fandom traits he was given and matured him up to make him more complicated. As the fandom has aged I feel we've all moved further and further away from the old anime portrayals, and I loved reading stories of Francis as this hyper intelligent cruel and vulnerable guy. I love giving him that capacity now, along with Arthur, and layering him up like a pretty lil onion

FrUK together

Honestly, I have said this before somewhere but as soon as I put the two of them in a scene that was it, they were the stars of the show. The first proper Hetalia fic I tried to write was USUK and Francis was supposed to be Arthur's childhood bestfriend and instantly they were the main characters. Instantly, their scenes together were my favourites, their dialogue my best, and they had more chemistry and intimacy than anything else. I converted myself to FrUK, I am the problem ahha

As soon as I wrote them together their relationship set solid and it's been unchanged ever since. It wasn't even planned, there was no room for growth- how they are now is how they were then. I abandoned that USUK fic and shifted to Reset and welp, been here with them arguing in my head ever since

The only way I write them differently is maybe how easy they are together? I used to write England more reluctant with affection and France more forceful, and they've softened with age as I've smoothed out the old rigidities of their characters. It's the same now, just softer

[debu-neko-kun]

Sammy’s Formula

Short second-person weight gain and moo-cow TF; I kept it pretty gender neutral, since everyone can be fat and moo-y. Anywho, is this my first story in several years starring my boy Sammy? Yes. Is he going to make you a giant obese milky cow? Also yes. Enjoy! “Alright darlin’, drink up when you’re ready!” 

The wide, green-haired moo-boy stood in front of you, his sizable hips taking up most of your view of the back of the spacious barn-turned-laboratory. An excited grin is plastered on his chubby face; his fat-heavy arms jiggle as he hands you a cup. It’s a regular clear plastic cup labeled “Serum B”, the pink liquid contained within smelling strongly of sweet cream and strawberries. 

“I’ll be filmin’ this for scientific record, just like we talked about; that still okay, sugar?” 

You nod. You’d come this far, traveling all the way out here to Sammy’s Sunshine Dairy, answering an ad calling for volunteers to help with a product trial. You skimmed it, noticing that It promised 500 dollars, and with Sammy being a reputable local business owner that specializes in weight-boosting milkshakes and products for moo-boys, you figured it was easy money. Taste testing for 500 bucks? Yes please. Besides, Sammy’s calm and friendly demeanor instantly put you at ease, which made it all the easier to say yes.

With one last little breath, you bring the cup to your mouth. As soon as it hits your tongue, your senses are awash with sweet, fresh strawberry flavor; it’s like the best strawberry ice cream you’ve ever had, but somehow better. You can’t help yourself and take another big gulp, then another and another.. Before you know it, you’re standing in the middle of the room holding an empty cup. Sammy beams at you from behind the camera. 

“I reckon that means you liked it.” he chuckles, shifting his stance to get a better angle with the camera, black skirt riding up to expose a considerable amount of his girthy cheeks. If he noticed, he didn’t say. “Lemme know if ya feel anything yet.”

As soon as he finishes speaking, your gut rumbles loud enough to echo across the walls. You put your hand to your stomach, a little embarrassed; maybe dairy wasn’t quite agreeing with you today. As you hold your hand there, you begin to notice something; your shirt is shifting beneath your grip, sliding and bunching, tightening around your middle… and that’s when you feel the mass of your belly growing out, pushing your hand away as it thickens and softens into a proper belly right before your very eyes.

“Woah, that’s fast! Didn’t expect it to go so quick, sugar. Should stop right about… now.” Sammy spoke. 

You watch in stunned silence as the soft swell of flesh begins to peek out beneath your shirt, the fabric unable to cover it any longer; a small sliver quickly turns into a wide patch of exposed flesh. You can feel a strange soothing warmth as the rest of your body begins to rapidly soften like rising bread, pants pulling tight around your growing cheeks, underwear receding, shirt sleeves gripping the dipping lard-wings you’re developing. 

“U-Uh, any second…” Sammy shuffles nervously, watching you grow fatter and fatter. 

What was that stuff? What’s happening? These questions escape your lips as your chest fills out like water balloons stuck on a milk spigot, blowing up and up, nipples perfectly visible through the tightening fabric, growing faster than the rest of you to catch up; the sudden onslaught is too much for the shirt, and it begins to tear from the collar straight down the middle. 

“W-Wait, didn’t ya read the advertisement?” Sammy speaks, a look of confusion now mixing with mild panic. “It said you’d be testin’ my new line of moo formula; y’know, like the formula that turns ya all chubby and cow-like? This was supposed to be the beginner dose, but it looks like ah might have… well, overshot it…” 

Your pants are the next to go, a catastrophic failure beginning with the sudden rupture of the seat of your pants and culminating in so many ripped and snapped seams you were rapidly left standing in just your underwear. The camera captures your enormity in frame, from your bare rolly thighs that squish together in silken flows to the gut dipping down and encroaching on their territory, to your bra-obliterating breasts that encroach on your belly in turn. As if turning into a parade blimp weren’t enough, you feel a warm, numb tingle on your head like running water; reaching up, you can feel two cow horns poking out of your skull, nubby and short, but otherwise sitting amongst your hair like they’d always been there. You turn your head, fat cheek pressing into shoulder in an effort to look at your couch-filling ass, and feel two fuzzy new cow ears flopping against your cheek. 

You reach out to your belly with lardbag arms as thick as bed pillows and place your dimpled hands on the gut that grows, and grows, and grows some more… you feel your back fat touch the shelf of an ass that has by now outgrown even your underwear and you shiver; everything on you is softening, drooping, widening, filling, touching, jiggling. The sensations are almost overwhelming, but… 

It’s not bad? 

Not something you’d thought you’d think, given the circumstances, but it was true. You felt like you had just crawled beneath a comforter straight out of the dryer, or slipped into a hot tub: only the hot tub is *you*, your girthy circumference and sheer volume certainly enough to fill one at least. 

“Oh, it looks like it’s slowin’ down… a-at least, ah hope so…” he mumbled in his thick southern accent, looking more than a little embarrassed himself over his formula error. 

You confirm his suspicion: the growth is finally slowing, the last pounds creeping in at close to solidify you as a nearly spherical ball of lard. But just as it stopped, a tingle began at the peaks of your breasts; you pat at them, hammy arms squishing them together as you work to try to soothe the tingle. 

The tingling builds and builds until finally, like a dam breaking, streams of milk begin pouring down your breasts, tickling your belly before dripping to the floor.

“W-Well… if’n you want, ah can just… pay ya now and send ya home with some of my pajamas…” Sammy spoke sheepishly. “But bein’ that large, might be a little bit of an adjustment… ah can always set you up a room in the farmhouse, let ya work here for a while if you’re interested. Long as you want, ‘till you’re adjusted to bein’ a cow– seein’ as it’s permanent an’ all– or just for as long as you wanna work ‘round here as a dairy cow. What’ya say? You want to hang around?” 

You grip your belly and let out a long, happy moo. 

“Good enough answer as any, I reckon.” 

[shitouttabuck]

wip wednesday

tagged by @forthewolves @rewritetheending @try-set-me-on-fire @jeeyuns @rainbow-nerdss @alyxmastershipper @eowon @giddyupbuck @icecreampotluck 💘

from i love you like a dog

When he comes back out to put his shoes on, Eddie’s obediently heading to bed, albeit muttering grouchily to himself the whole time. Buck’s struck by this sudden and violent urge to stride over and kiss him on his forehead, just a short and sweet goodbye. He wants to do it now, and he wants to do it tomorrow and every time he ever has to leave, however brief it may be. Eddie pauses at his bedroom door and peers back at Buck down the dark hallway. Then he grins, quick, before bossily saying, “Well, don’t keep my kid waiting. And expect that list. I will not be taking comments on my friendship with our meat vendor today, so not one word if you also happen to receive some questions to relay to her.” With that, he marches into his bedroom, leaving Buck’s face aching with the span of his smile and his heart aching with the easy way Eddie’d referred to Mariana as an our. It's hard to know when something shifts when you’re living in it. But if Buck from two weeks ago had harboured any thoughts of dizzyingly domestic goodbye kisses, he’d have folded it up as small as possible and tucked it into the recesses of his mind. Today? Buck folds it once, twice, and tucks it into his back pocket. It’s not that it’s suddenly conceivable, more that—the last couple weeks have felt like such a dream already, and maybe Buck’s feeling indulgent. He knows he’ll have to wake up soon, so until then, he’ll let himself pretend it’s within reach.

i think. this might be the last i love you like a dog snippet i post? i only have one scene left to write and then. PLENTY of editing. i love u guys SO bad for sticking w me and being so unbelievably lovely through the whole deranged writing of this fic like i want to kiss each and every one of you. she is so special to me but so personal it would’ve driven me insane in a bad way if i didn’t have y’all. do u wanna guess how long she accidentally became. it's stupid long for a fic that was never supposed to be more than 15k at MOST.......

tagging @anxieteandbiscuits @colonoscopys @transboybuckley @zahlibeth @diazblunt if y’all have anything 💗

[angelofrainfrogs]

Going Back: Ch. 14

~Coauthored by @zeitghest~

Fandom(s): Five Nights At Freddy’s: Security Breach

Description: Things are looking up for Gregory. After putting the soul of a formerly-immortal killer to rest, he and his new family can finally begin their lives anew. Sure, Gregory might have been cursed with mysterious Remnant in exchange for being involved in this mess—not to mention his caretakers consist of sentient robots and ghosts… But there’s no doubt that the bond they share is unbreakable. They love him, and he in turn. 

All in all, life is finally starting to go right for once. 

…Unfortunately, true peace is a hard-won battle. There are other things to contend with besides William’s decrepit soul, and Gregory will learn that his role in the lives of the Aftons and Emilys is far greater than anyone could’ve imagined. 

Rating: T

Read on Ao3

Amazingly, Michael slept until the crack of 3 pm. He left the land of sleep in a daze, barely registering he was awake at first. Rolling onto his back, he stretched his arms out and accidentally smacked Charlie’s face with the back of his hand in the process. It was her retaliating punch to his ribs that fully brought Michael to reality and with a mumbled apology he got out of bed, rubbing his side like it was now a bruised as he meandered to the shower. Clean and refreshed a short while later, Mike headed off to the Pizzaplex. Thankfully he didn’t need to eat and was therefore able to head straight to Sam for an update on the day and to see what was on the docket for tonight’s tasks.

Meanwhile, Gregory stirred a few minutes after Michael left the hotel room. Freddy had been dozing, getting more used to the concept of sleep as time went on, although he immediately perked up when the boy next to him began shifting.

“Good morning, Gregory,” Freddy said, pressing a quick kiss to his son’s forehead. Amazingly, the hoodie was mostly still on, having shifted only slightly during Gregory’s deep slumber. Bleary silver eyes peered up at Freddy from underneath the set of bear ears, making the ursine man’s heart absolutely melt. 

Charlie was lucky Sam didn’t want her in “officially” to work until Monday. That’s when she was supposed to be settled to help Sam out; invoices and directing his calls sounded fairly easy when it came to her more logic oriented brain. For today, Charlie was content to sleep with her now-bruised cheek facing the ceiling.

Gregory had been mindful of Charlie’s slumber in the bed next to them as he quietly greeted Freddy. “Morning, Dad…”

A fast smile returned to his face. He was the luckiest kid—not just statistically. Today he felt good. With no hide nor hair of his foster parents around, Gregory was relaxed and happy to wake up with people who actually cared about him. He rolled over, throwing his arms around his dad as he thought of how close he was to never having a life like this.

***

Sam looked a lot better. The bags under his eyes were beginning to clear up nicely thanks to those strange melatonin candies Moon carried around, the natural sleep aids doing wonders for Samuel’s complexion. Outside the Daycare, Sam met with Michael and instructed him on what this shift was going to look like this afternoon.

“I was going ask you to help me get started on Roxy’s restoration, but Sophie’s going to meet you in the main security hub first,” Sam said, refilling a coffee thermos in a break room behind a Staff Only door. “She’ll show you the security route and protocol stuff. You know, newbie training and everything. It would be kind of unfair if everyone but you had to do orientation and all." Grimacing, Sammy leaned in close and cupped a hand over his mouth. "Plus, between you and me, she's the most suspicious about you guys—best not to give her any reason to make it worse.”

“I understand,” Michael replied, shoving his hands in his pockets. He raised an eyebrow as Sam inhaled the coffee, recalling the days when he too survived mostly on pitchers of the stuff. “I’ll meet her now then, I suppose?” When Sam hummed in confirmation, the guard nodded and headed off to the security hub. He wondered what Sophie thought of all this…

Would she still be mildly terrified of him as the Afton heir, like she’d been during past interactions? Thankfully Mike could now do away with that stuffy persona modeled after his cold-hearted father, although he knew the personality change would probably throw poor Sophie for a loop.

And speak of the devil—she was waiting for Michael right where Sam indicated, staring off into space.

“Hey!” Mike greeted as he approached, giving Sophie a little wave. He lowered this hand and offered it for her to shake with an apologetic smile. “Sammy said you wanted to show me a few things? I, uh… I’m sorry if we got off on the wrong foot earlier this week. I promise I’m not a complete asshole.”

Inside the room, Sophie had paused the video feed she was reviewing. Michael didn’t ask why, so she didn’t explain her reasoning for looking over the tapes. She tried hiding her jump when Mike began to speak, and his suddenly friendly demeanor had her very confused.

This was the same Michael Afton with the shitty attitude and muscle shirts, right? Sophie decided for the sake of their jobs, it was best to throw that mess under the bridge.

“Oh, it was a stressful week for everyone, Mr. Afton. No worries!” she replied with an easy going shrug before reaching out and taking his hand. She shook it firmly, and felt more at ease when she could feel him respond and match the strength of her grip. “But hey! Now that you’re here, I can start your tour!”

“Sounds good,” Michael responded, although he grimaced slightly at the name. “Oh, and no need for all that formal stuff anymore—Mr. Afton was my father. Just call me Michael or Mike; whichever you prefer.”

“You got it.” An easygoing smile returned to Sophie’s face. Perhaps the off-putting behavior had all been caused by stress. Intrigued, Sophie stood and began explaining the typical duties of a Fazbear night guard. “So—if you're doing nightshift, the first stop is making sure the auto locks go off at twelve at night. Starting from there, I'll show you the route we normally take! I personally just like taking a walk down the atrium from the front doors. Then it's just checking the backrooms in the fastest way possible before making it back to the security room.”

Gathering her flashlight and walkie, Sophie was sure to log out of the computer before hitting the door button on their way out of the room. No one needed to know she was snooping through video surveillance...

Michael instinctively patted down his work belt as he watched Sophie get her supplies. Everything was intact and accounted for, as usual. The day Michael Afton forgot or misplaced a piece of security guard gear would mark the failing of his mental capacities—after everything he’d been through, he’d never lose a potential weapon unless it was from throwing it at an animatronic that was after his blood. Hopefully they’d never have to worry about that again, though.

As Sophie continued speaking, Mike managed to pull his thoughts back to the present and follow her out the door. “Auto locks go off at twelve, then case the back rooms and return to the security office—got it.”

His gaze swiveled around as they walked, really trying to take in the building he’d be working and half-living in for god knows how long. “I know there’s multiple offices, though the one by the stage is the central hub. Does the night guard switch between them, or are the others more so there for back up or extra dayshift security?” 

“Daytime security mostly. We used to have... More night guards. And day guards.” Sophie subconsciously reached up and pinched the bridge of her nose.

Yeah, Vanessa had scared off a few newbies trying to learn the ropes. Honestly she was glad that Ness decided to take a wellness trip. Someone that high-strung sorely needed it, especially if she was keeping other people from doing their jobs.

When they hit the atrium, Sophie explained it a bit more thoroughly. “Usually if we had more staff, they’d be helping you out by watching their own sectors while you do rounds. Not many people want to work here these days... Go figure.”

Sophie spoke honestly, maybe even against her better judgement as she knew Mike and Sam must be friends of some kind. Still... Everyone knew this place had a weird history. Sophie was aware before even taking the job, and yet—probably against her better judgement—she still signed the employee contract.

“Speaking of which...,” she began, slowly drawling her words as she carefully meandered around the subject. “Why did you want to work security anyway? It doesn't exactly have the best reputation as a fun job...”

A wistful smile crossed Mike’s face.

“No, it certainly doesn’t,” he agreed, pale eyes flickering to Sophie’s briefly before looking away. “I’ve got personal stake in this place, for one thing.”

He might as well flaunt the Afton name even though he hated it. Maybe he could even reclaim it in time. While he’d never be rid of the dark blot of terror William created that forever loomed over Fazbear Entertainment, Michael could at least do his best to convince his coworkers that not every Afton was evil… or dead.

Kind of.

“Also, like we told you before we came to check in on this place per Sam’s request,” Michael went on as he and Sophie meandered casually through the Pizzaplex. “When I saw the state of things and the clearly overwhelmed night guard, I had to stick around to help. I might not look like it, but I’ve got a fair amount of security detail experience under my belt.”

He stopped himself from rambling more, not wanting to say too much. Michael got the strangest sensation that Sophie might actually understand some of his sordid past if he told her—or at the very least accept it. But that wasn’t a fair burden to put on anyone, let alone someone so young just trying to do their job. For now, Michael would remain the enigmatic Afton willing to help his family friend Samuel anyway he could.

The pair meandered through the Pizzaplex, chattering idly as Sophie explained the standard duties of what security here entailed. Eventually, their trip took them to the Daycare. The closer they got, the more Mike realized that this might not be the best idea. So far, Ennard had done a great job of avoiding dayshift staff, although they’d never been so close to Michael as they would be in the Daycare…

Of course, it was entirely possible that the amalgamation was chilling in the basement with Henry, though with technically two new friends if counting Sun and Moon separate, Ennard was spending most of their time in the rainbow room of fun. It would be too suspicious if Michael asked Sophie to wait outside while he scouted the area. Instead, he opted for loudly announcing their presence, hoping the knowledge that he was with someone else would be enough to send Ennard running for cover if they were around.

“Sophie, have you gotten the chance to visit Sun since he got all fixed up?” Michael asked, speaking a bit louder than might be necessary as they ducked under the garage door leading to the drop-off area.

“Oh yeah! I visited him this morning,” she answered in a perky way, figuring he was just making conversation. She approached the slide, which was honestly one of her favorite ways to enter any of the attractions. “Dude, I felt so bad. I tried asking Sun what was wrong but he just sort of covered his mouth and screamed? I think Sam said he was stuck between personality matrixes. And because he's sort of scared of the dark, it left him freaked out for like the whole weekend!”

Standing aside, Sophie waited for Mike to go down first. “Have you ever taken the slide into the Daycare? It's so much more fun than it looks.” 

Inside, Mari was currently having the time of her life. Running around and chasing after both Sun and Ennard in one of the more enriching games of tags she's ever played, mostly her and Sun were the ones shouting over any attempts at signaling those robots inside the Daycare. 

Well, shit. Michael caught a flash of movement—three shapes, and that’s all he needed to know. Sun and his new friends were playing and clearly didn’t hear his warning. Mari he could explain away: Charlie’s little sister, come to visit the Pizzaplex and Sam. The CEO needed to get some work done, and therefore dropped her off in the Daycare for Sun to watch over. Ennard though… now that would be a tough one.

Michael ran a stressed hand through his hair. As usual, that thing was the bane of his existence. Thinking quickly, he flashed Sophie a grin and took her offer of going first down the slide. Wasting no time, he practically threw himself down feet first, landing in a crash of plastic that instantly caught the yelling robots’ attention. They had about ten seconds max before Sophie made it into the ball pit, and as Michael scrambled out of the way he hissed frantically: “Dayshift guard right behind me! Ennard, GET OUT!”

Ennard briefly caught that flash of muted white and black of the security guard uniform. They were excited to see the human man and shouted a greeting to him.

“MIKEY! I AM WINNING TAG!” They stopped right by the ball pit, leaning over to loom over Michael, excited to finally talk to his friend after some silence for the past few days. But when they felt Mari's strong little hands shove them hard into the ball pit, they knew they were out of the game for now.

“TAG!” Mari shouted at the big old mess of wires and gears. “Now stay hidden you big goober!” She said, clapping the dust from the grody carpeting she had to touch.

Behind Michael there was a shout of joy from Sophie as she slid face first down and crashed into the ball pit, unaware what was lurking just out of sight in the plastic pool.

“Wooo... Man, that never gets old!” she laughed, shaking her hair out as she resurfaced. Though confusion quickly over took her as she saw Mari standing before Michael at the edge of the pit. “Oh—hey? What's your name? Are you lost...?”

Mari was quick to answer, her only downside being that she was a very truthful person by nature.

“No ma'am! I'm not lost; I'm Mari!” she protested, a cheeky grin on her face. Very cute, but Sophie did not quite like being called ma'am. It made her feel far too old. Standing up and wiping invisible dust off her pants, Sophie slowly made her way over to the young girl.

“Well, sweetheart, we've been closed for the past week. Do your parents know you're here?” she said, taking a very gentle approach to helping her. Although Mari looked kind of old to want to hang out in the Daycare area...

“This little angel is Charlie’s sister!” Michael quickly chimed in, scrambling out of the ball pit before a wiry tendril under the surface could fully wrap around his ankle and lock him in place. Once on the padded floor of the play area, he snaked an arm around Mari’s shoulders and pulled her into a side hug. “She came to visit Sam, but he must’ve needed to get some work done and dropped her off in the Daycare. Right, Sun?”

Michael shot a glance over his shoulder to where Sun was stooped, gazing at the interaction with rapt interest. It was a good thing his static face was stuck in a permanent smile, for the way he wrung his hands together indicated his nervousness at the situation. However, he immediately latched onto Michael’s direction, shifting his hands to clap them together.

“Oh yes!” the lanky animatronic exclaimed, bells on his wrists jingling as he swayed from foot to foot. “I’m watching over her until Sam or Charlie comes to pick her up! Ooh, but isn’t she just the cutest little ray of sunshine?!”

In a fit of what could only be described as cute aggression, Sun bent at the waist and reached forward to pinch both of Mari’s smiling cheeks at once, much to the girl’s chagrin.

“Sun?! How could you!” she said, feeling betrayed that her friend played along a bit too well as to treat her like a small child. She reached up, grasping his wrists and silencing the golden bells there. “You’re it now…” Mari said, reminding them that they were still playing a game. Sophie cracked a smile, believing them right off the bat due to the sheer resemblance she saw between all the Emily’s.

“Yes—” Sophie laughed, watching the maliciously compliant little girl interact with Sun. “—she’s cute. Looks just like the boss and Charlie. Are you having fun, Mari?” 

“This is my second favorite place to be. But Sun’s one of my best friends…,” Mari admitted, now rubbing her face into the soft fabric of Sun’s stripped pants in a way that made Sophie's heart melt. 

It took literally all of Sun’s willpower not to scoop Mari up and squeeze her until she was out of breath from the affection. To be called one of her best friends was the highest praise in Sun’s book. He patted the top of her head, slightly mussing up her shaggy waves in a way that framed the cherubic face even more adorably.

“Like Mari said, we’re playing tag!” the Daycare attendant exclaimed, looking to the guards expectantly. “Do you want to play with us?! It’s always more fun with more people!”

“Uh, well we're kind of on a schedule,” Mike explained. It’s not that he didn’t want to play tag—he was more worried about Ennard’s weird obsession that might entice them to stick an eyeball out of the ball pit to watch the fun. If Sophie caught sight of the creature lurking in the depths below, she’d probably freak out. With an apologetic smile, Michael shrugged up at Sun. “Next time, for sure; I’m technically in a tour right now for my new job, but we wanted to check in on you.”

“How sweet!” Sun gasped, completely unfazed by Michael’s denial of playtime. “I’m doing just great! And so is Moon! I’m sure he’d say hi to you both if he could!”

Under the pit, Ennard's wires shuttered and stalled with having almost gotten their prize. It was like Mike had developed a sixth sense when it came to their attempts at grasping for him. Despite his wishes not to play, Ennard knew he would be back later. Then they could chase each other down like old times once more…

As Sophie rose herself out and carefully over the lip of the rainbow river, she told the Daycare Attendant: “I’ll be back before my shifts up, Sun! I’ll bring some Fizzy-Faz to make up for it. We still have to get back to the security office for midday clearance.”

It was a rule from the start that all personnel that clocked in had to be accounted for by midday. A safety precaution that Mr. Emily took very serious. She was hardly worried about the boss’s daughter. The girl was in the safest part of the Pizzaplex. With its own lockdown features and 7 foot tall animatronic, people were hesitant to break rules under their charge.

“WAIT!” Mari shouted, jumping and grasping onto Sophie’s arm which had nearly been enough to make her panic right then and there. “I need your walkie talkie, please!” Before Sophie could answer, the communication device was slipped off her belt loop.

“Dad? It’s Mari! Do you copy?” she asked over the thick static.

A short pause followed by some feedback static was the only barrier between Sam's confused-sounding answer. “Uh—Mari? Yes, what’s wrong?”

“DRINK SOME WATER! You’ve been drinking too much coffee,” she shouted knowingly into the receiver. There was a long pause then after, followed by a heavy sigh on the radio.

“I’ve got water. Thank you, sweetheart,” Sam replied, probably relieved there wasn’t a real issue.

Mari then clipped the walkie back onto Sophie’s belt, leaving the security guard slightly dazed at the young girl’s responsible demeanor. Hell, she might make a good security guard when she’s older…

Michael had to stifle his laugh by turning it into a rather furious coughing fit. It was sweet to see Mari still fully invested in her role as the security bot of her earlier days, but imagining the look on Sam’s exhausted face when she called him “dad” so casually was enough to set off a fit of poorly-disguised giggles. Sophie would never know how absolutely bizarre their whole twisted “family” situation was…

“Thanks for helping keep your dad in check, Mari,” Michael eventually managed to say with a roll of his eyes. “God knows he needs it…”

“She’s so thoughtful!” Sun praised, jumping on the opportunity to shower his new friend in even more affection. This time he did pick her up, gently rubbing his face against hers while being careful of the bright spokes signaling his sunny disposition.

“Best mini-security guard around, that’s for sure,” Michael agreed, flashing a grin up at the pair. He then stretched his arms out, miming the action of cracking his joints as he looked to his coworker. “I guess we should head for that check-in?”

“Yes, yes, you don’t want Sammy to worry!” Sun encouraged, setting Mari back on the floor so she could say her goodbyes. Before she got the chance to though, the Daycare attendant crossed his arms overtop each other and grasped one of Michael and Sophie’s hands in his own, shaking them vigorously. “It was soooo good to see you! We have to play a game next time you both come around!”

Mari looked over the moon. She seemed to love the attention from others, and especially from one of the animatronics she chose to spend a lot of her time with. Until very recently, she couldn't express herself much. A living doll limited to its mask. Thanks to her creator, she could experience the world as the others did and finally share all that she knew. 

Sophie, none the wiser to the twisted monster in the pit could eagerly shake Sun's hand carefree. There was nothing amiss at all in the Pizzaplex today. Sam would be happy to hear that after so many nights of constant stress... which might give her some the opportunity to do some snooping without anyone watching too closely. Though Michael knew his stuff—she would have to be careful around him when maneuvering the security cameras and other employees later.

“I'll bring a board game next time I come on by, Sun,” Sophie promised, knowing soon it would be her turn to watch the Daycare. Turning to Michael, she nodded her way to the door with a casual smile. “We're making pretty good time today—how are you liking the Pizzaplex so far?”

“It's growing on me,” Michael replied with a little smile that was hard to read. With a final wave, he followed Sophie to the exit. As he crossed the threshold of the doorway, he swore his slightly advanced hearing picked up on plastic shuffling from the ball pit, as well as a near-imperceptible “Wait, silly!” from Sun. Resisting the urge to roll his eyes with all his might, Michael picked up the pace until they reached the entrance lobby, upon which he slowed again for Sophie to take the lead.

It wasn't yet time to come out, Sun and Mari had to practically wrestle him back below the plastic balls. Sophie would look over her shoulder at this display with the expectations of seeing them messing around playfully. As Ennard sucked Mari into the pit below, making her break into a giggling fit, Sophie smiled at how much Mari was enjoying herself. Completely clueless as to the happenings of the Pizzaplex, she was quick to guide Mike back out and into the main atrium where people remained busy in order to have the place opened on schedule.

“It sure is eventful around here though,” Michael commented as he saw some staff members bustling around. He knew it was nowhere near what it'd be like when the place was actually open for business, and admittedly he was glad he worked mostly night shift. Over the years he'd gotten used to the relative quiet of darkness.

...Well, when he wasn't cursing in terror from bloodthirsty animatronics at the office window, that is. Soon enough they'd made it to the check-in location, where a few other staff members were milling about. Michael looked around for Sam, wondering if he'd make an appearance—clearly he was awake from Mari's recent short, chiding call.

Currently, something huge was being taken on a dolly and into the freight elevator by a few workers and Mr. Emily himself. Whatever it was had been covered by a large canvas sheet, wrapped in hooking bungee cords to keep the canvas from slipping off the odd shape. Samuel was currently holding the elevator, allowing the people helping it upstairs to fit inside the lift without it shutting on them. When Sam spotted the pair walking in tandem, he waved to them.

“How's the tour going, guys?” he asked, seeming in a better mood than the last week as a whole.

“Good!” Michael replied, staring at the elevator curiously as the large object was finagled inside. Another animatronic, perhaps? There were still a few more to get up and running, after all… 

“Sophie’s been taking me on her daily route,” Michael elaborated, sticking his hands on his pockets and slouching casually to the side. “We stopped by all the animatronics to check in, too—DJ, the Glamrocks and Sun. They seem to be doing great!” A corner of his mouth twitched up in a knowing smirk.

“Also, Sophie got to meet your daughter—Mari’s certainly keeping Sun entertained.” Mike tilted his head. “How’s the coffee to water consumption ratio by the way, boss?”

Sam should’ve known that was the reason he received such a strange call coming from Mari; it’d really thrown the employees he had asked to help him for a loop. One remarked how they didn't know he had a daughter, while the other had spoken up to say they thought he had two. It made answering Mari just the slightest bit difficult. Then again, he was so tired, he could deadpan a lie fairly easily.

Sam chuckled, finding it weird how he had to pretend he had two kids—one being his sister, and the other a robot designed to protect both himself and said girl...

“Was she being good? And I'm drinking more water than I was before, if that's helpful,” Sam replied in a cheeky way.

“Oh, she was just fine. The Daycare attendant loves her, predictably,” Sophie said with a shrug. Sun loved all the kids, of course, but she reckoned he probably had a soft spot for his creator's daughter.

“I think she’d live in the Daycare if she could, to be honest,” Michael chuckled. If Mari could have a permanent slumber party on that padded floor surrounded by all her friends new and old, he just knew she’d be the happiest little robot in the world. While he couldn’t offer her that, Michael could give her a chance to experience something potentially just as exciting… He’d have to stop by on his way out to see if she’d be up for an adventure.

“Anyway, am I allowed to ask what you’re up to, or is it top secret?” Michael inquired, tilting his head towards the elevator as Sam let the doors close after staff finally got the mysterious object inside.

Sam looked around him and as the handy men loaded his project into the lift, he would let the door shut before saying anything—leaving quite the suspenseful beat for Sophie and Michael to endure. Then, he waved them closer and whispered just for their ears only. “It was a project I’d been working on for a while before this whole fiasco started. You guys remember Foxy the Pirate, right?”

Sophie’s eyes couldn’t get any bigger. Another employee passed them by to make use of the lift and Sam gently herded them both away while Sophie asked in awe: “Wait—was that why we couldn’t go to Parts & Service?”

“Mhm; partly,” Sam said, dodging her eye contact by pretending to look at his watch. “We are switching the department, however. I don’t know what we’re going to use that room for next. Maybe a break room—we just need more space for the newest animatronic line.”

The explanation eased Sophie’s conscience a little. The more she learned, the more most of this sounded like it was in the works for a very long time, and not just a spin on last ditch cover up.

“I’ll be powering him on shortly, but he needs to charge. I think someone accidentally left his roaming mode on sometime last week… You guys think Roxy’s ready to meet her brother?” he asked, hoping Roxy wouldn’t take it harshly to have a family member performing in the band with her.

“Holy shit,” Michael murmured under his breath, followed by a whispery chuckle. He knew it was coming, yet somehow the announcement of Foxy the Pirate Fox in the official lineup was still surprising. A bright smile lit up his face as the initial shock wore off. 

“Sammy, this is awesome! And I think Roxy’s going to be just fine.” He snickered, lips twitching into more of a smirk. “She’ll have someone else to get into trouble with."

As way of explanation for his reaction to a refurbished children’s character, Michael told Sophie: “Foxy used to be my favorite as a kid.”

Sophie could see the way Michael brightened when speaking about the character and his hardwired personality. It gave away exactly who Mike’s favorite was. Sophie was interested in seeing how the animatronic was going to stack up against the already established cast.

“Foxy was so cool—” Sophie agreed, seeming to be a big of a fangirl herself of the rowdy cartoon pirate. “—did you tell any of the Glamrocks yet?”

With a finger pressed over his lips, Sam made a soft shushing sound.

“No, keep it a surprise until tonight. I’m going to get the band all together then introduce the old Fox. Mike, come up to my office after you’re done with check-ins.” Sam flashed him a self-satisfied smirk, taking pride in the thing he had created for the brand new line up. “I want you to be the first to see his design. I think you’ll appreciate the work I put into it.”

“Will do, boss-man,” Michael replied with an overzealous salute. He was desperately trying not to laugh, his movements seeming a bit manic for no apparent reason. It was simultaneously so ironic and entertaining that Mike already knew about the Glamrock Foxy model in a more intimate way than anyone but its AI would ever get to. He'd have to explain—and apologize on everyone's behalf—to Sam later this evening why the fox had disappeared from its hidden storage and “free roamed” over the weekend...

But even though they'd been bonded for the better part of twenty-four hours, Michael still hadn't gotten to meet Foxy's programmed personality like he'd done when hitching a ride with Freddy. A flush of childlike excitement filled his eyes as he thought of meeting what was sure to be the friendliest iteration of the fox to date. He had a few more things to do first, though.

“So it's back to the security office after this, right?” Michael asked Sophie, not intending to rush her but simply to indicate he'd like to get a move-on now that they'd confirmed they were still alive and well (to Sam's satisfaction, at least).

Sam may have given him a cockeyed glance. Michael's sudden bursts of mania usually meant there was something strange afoot. Though with nothing else to go by, he departed with an equally ironic salute to his two guards. With Sophie's attention back fully to Mike and her job, she grinned.

“You want to go see the Fox, huh?” she asked almost teasingly. Before he could answer her, seriously or otherwise, she raised her phone from her pocket and checked the time. “Yep—so looking around everywhere, if you're not distracted, should take about an hour.”

It was time to head on back to the main office. Sophie made conversation as she led them back to home base. “I don't blame you, though. You're lucky to be helping Sam work on those things. And I mean you... made it so far; so to speak. He must want your opinion on it as a mechanic.”

Clearly Sophie had paid attention to their introductions during the meeting and was fairly aware of the vast number of safety protocols they normally need for doing work on an animatronic.

Michael's enthusiastic smile slipped into one that was a little more subdued as he followed after his new coworker.

“Well, unlike most franchises, the owners of Fazbear Entertainment have always been rather hands-on,” he said. Contrary to his chipper personality moments before, Michael's tone was relatively flat. Not wanting her to perceive this as him being haughty, he was quick to add: “I learned a lot from my predecessors; probably more than ever wanted to know, honestly.”

He gave a short laugh, rubbing the back of his neck. “But it's definitely useful when animatronics go on the fritz like they did this weekend. I really don't mind helping out with that sort of stuff if anyone ever needs it. To be honest, it can get kind of boring sitting in that security office all night...”

Not that I want any action—PLEASE let things stay calm for the foreseeable future... Michael silently prayed to whoever was listening.

Sophie nodded, taking in what he said. It would probably be useful to listen to him about the history of this place given how vested he was in the company from what she assumed was a young age. He was related to the original owners, too.

“Tell me about it. For the most part, the band and everyone else reminds people to behave. The day shift is here pretty much for making sure dads don't get into fights at Monty Golf and throw a putter through the set props...,” Sophie remarked so specifically, one would probably think she was speaking for a real experience. “But usually people behave. Unless they want to get shaken down by a bunch of giant robotic animals dressed like the Twisted Sister front-man...”

“Mm, yeah, I'd hate to be on any of those robots' bad sides,” Michael responded with a little hum. His eyes shifted around, unable to stay on Sophie for a moment as the previous weekend flashed through his mind in rapid succession. Oh how far those animatronics had come from their dirty, broken shambles as they chased down an innocent child with the intent of ripping him apart limb by limb...

A small shiver ran through his body, though Michael ignored this as they stepped into the safety of the central hub yet again. He stretched out his arms with a sigh, then plopped down in one of the swivel chairs and used the momentum to do a 360-degree spin, braking with his foot to grin up at Sophie.

“Thanks for showing me around,” he told her, already stealing a glance at the security feeds as was habit. When there was a set of monitors and live camera feeds in front of him, Michael had to watch them. Managing to reign in his gaze, he leaned casually back in the chair and looked to his coworker again. “I'll be sure to reach out if I need while I adjust to things around here.”

“No problem! I look forward working with you, Mike,” Sophie replied with a thumbs-up, before grabbing her coat from one of the storage lockers. Her footsteps disappeared down the hallway while Michael's phone buzzed in his back pocket. Charlie had been trying to reach him through text. There were several photo attachments.

Mike it's Charlie. How do you use clippers?

Like the electric ones for hair

OK I figured it out never mind.

OK maybe not. duck

I meant Duck not duck

The texts became decreasingly verbose as Charlie panicked. Then, there was an album, a photographic progression of a haircut Charlie was apparently giving to Gregory. There was hair everywhere as a shaggy mullet was now cut into the kid’s head. He stood on the bathroom sink, glaring into the camera as Charlie took pictures of him. She eventually figured out how to take a selfie in the ending photo, managing to get the boy to smile after styling the old school cut.

“No fucking way,” Michael chuckled to himself as he scrolled through the pictures. They were ridiculous, the lot of them...

Out of all potential hairstyles, she'd gone with a mullet? Well, it'd certainly be hard for the Smiths to recognize Gregory at first glance, that's for sure. Plus, Michael couldn't deny his soft spot for the style... Pulling up the virtual keypad, he typed a response as quick as his fingers would go.

Sorry, was getting a tour from Sophie; all done now. Gregory looks adorable... don't tell him I said that

I'm hanging out for a bit then coming back w/a surprise... be there in 1-2 hours, & we can go to the Pizzaplex together for night shift later

With that Michael slipped his phone back in his pocket, though he'd barely gotten to roll his chair into the prime camera-watching position before it buzzed again.

***

Previous Chapter ~~ Next Chapter

Looking for more? Check out the Chapter Masterlist on Tumblr!

Or check out the entire Wires that Bind Us Series on ao3!

[aung-khant-kyaw]

How Viral Memes are Shaping U.S Elections and Public Opinion

Back in the early ages of the internet, memes were just supposed to be fun, mischievous and shareable jokes that many young users used to express themselves. But in recent years, memes have become such a powerful tool to use even for business or politics. The most notable example of this is how in recent U.S. elections, politicians use memes in their promotional campaigns to raise polls, especially among younger voters. In this blog, we are going to look at how meme culture is growing to be a powerful weapon to harness if you want to attract more attention online.

How the Internet Changed Political Communication

Because of the internet, we have shifted the way we engage in politics. While traditional media is still alive and around, younger generations, especially people younger than 35, Millennials and Gen Z, are getting more political news from social media platforms like Twitter, Instagram, TikTok, Reddit and even YouTube. Memes are a huge part of today's online world, offering either long, detailed video essays on platforms like YouTube or quick attention-grabbing content such as memes.

Why Memes Click with Young Voters

First of all they are short. With so much information and posts out there, memes offer a fast and often fun way to break down complex political topics. Second of all relatable. Political memes tap into everyday frustrations or experiences, making politics feel more connected to real life. And finally they are easily shareable. Memes spread quickly, making it easy for political ideas to go viral on different social platforms.

Politicians Are Jumping on the Meme Bandwagon

Seeing how effective memes are, politicians have started using them in their communication strategies. This marks a huge shift in how they connect with younger voters.

Barack Obama’s 2008 campaign was one of the first to really use social media well. This has made other politicians hop in the meme whip to use on digital political campaigns. Now, we see politicians like Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez (famous on the internet as AOC) taking it further, using platforms like Instagram and Twitch to engage with voters. AOC mixes internet humor with serious politics, making her relatable to Millennials and Gen Z.

The Two Sides of Political Memes

Memes can shape a politician’s public image, but this can go both ways. They can make politicians seem more down-to-earth and relatable, or they can dig their own grave by accidentally making their past mistakes come out and harm their reputation.

Making Politicians Relatable

Bernie Sanders has become a stable in the political meme world, with images and videos like “I am once again asking for your financial support” and his viral mittens moment at Biden’s inauguration. These memes showed Sanders as authentic and down-to-earth, even appealing to people who might not agree with his politics.

Another great example of a politician connecting with voters through memes and social media is Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez (AOC). She frequently hops on Instagram Live to talk directly to her followers while doing everyday things like cooking dinner or getting ready for bed. These casual, relatable moments have been meme’d endlessly, with screenshots and clips from her live streams spreading across platforms. The combination of her authenticity, humor, and openness has made AOC a favorite among younger voters. Memes from these streams reinforce the idea that she's not just a politician but someone you could hang out with, and that helped her build a strong connection with her fun base.

Another example is Hillary Clinton's attempt to reach younger voters with her infamous "Pokémon Go to the polls" line. While the intention was there, it instantly became a meme because of how forced and out of touch it sounded . The internet took it and memed the living world out of it, highlighting her struggle to connect with Gen Z and Millennials.

When Memes Backfire

On the other side, memes can also be used to mock politicians. Donald Trump’s interview with Jonathan Swan on Axios became a meme when people focused on what they saw as his poor response to the COVID-19 pandemic. These memes made the interview go viral and the video made its impact way beyond its initial broadcast.

And then there’s Joe Biden, who has had plenty of meme-able moments. One of his infamous blunders was when he said he could sum up China in "one word," and then proceeded to say something totally incomprehensible and totally not "one word". That moment, along with other slip-ups, fed into memes questioning his ability to lead and questioning his health especially related to dementia. In fact, Biden recently dropped out of the 2024 election, and many believe it’s partly due to the accumulation of these viral stumbles. The memes, like ones showing him mixing up numbers or fumbling sentences, stuck with people and shaped how they saw him as a candidate.

Memes as Political Game Changers

Memes aren’t just for laughs—they can actually influence political outcomes. They spark conversations, spread messages, and get voters, especially younger ones, involved.

During the 2016 election, Trump’s campaign got a boost from meme makers who helped make his anti-establishment image. Memes like “Covfefe” and “God Emperor Trump” spread his message on platforms like 4chan, Reddit, and Twitter .

In the 2020 election, both Trump and Biden’s campaigns used memes to rally their supporters. Memes about Biden’s speaking style or Trump’s tweets helped shape how the public viewed their leadership.

The Future of Political Conversations

Looking ahead, it’s clear that memes are more than just online jokes. They’re becoming important tools in politics, influencing how people vote, shaping public opinion, and giving politicians new ways to connect with younger audiences.

For Millennials and Gen Z, memes offer an easy entry point into politics, making complex issues more relatable. As meme culture keeps evolving, its influence on U.S. elections is likely to grow, becoming a part of digital politics.

While we still are not sure about the true impact of memes on political conversations, one thing for sure is a meme can be more powerful than we think.

References

Cillizza, C., 2020. 'The absolutely remarkable social media power of Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez', CNN [online], 24 July. Available at: https://edition.cnn.com/2020/07/24/politics/aoc-ted-yoho-cspan/index.html [Accessed 28 October 2024].

Donovan, J., 2019. 'How memes got weaponized: A short history', MIT Technology Review [online], 24 October. Available at: https://www.technologyreview.com/2019/10/24/132228/political-war-memes-disinformation/ [Accessed 28 October 2024].

Douglas, E., 2022. 'Texas GOP's voting meme shows how Trump-style messaging wins internet's attention', The Texas Tribune [online], 8 January. Available at: https://www.texastribune.org/2022/01/08/texas-gop-voting-covid-meme-trump/ [Accessed 28 October 2024].

King, A., 2023. 'How meme culture is engaging Gen Z in politics', Canvas8 [online], 3 January. Available at: https://www.canvas8.com/library/reports/2023/01/03/why-satirical-memes-have-gen-z-talking-about-politics [Accessed 28 October 2024].

Mina, A.X., 2018. 'Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez Has Mastered the Politics of Digital Intimacy', Harvard Kennedy School [online], 30 November. Available at: https://cyber.harvard.edu/story/2018-11/alexandria-ocasio-cortez-has-mastered-politics-digital-intimacy [Accessed 28 October 2024].

Ossorio, M.A., 2024. 'Do memes affect our political ideas?', Universitat Oberta de Catalunya [online]. Available at: https://www.uoc.edu/en/news/2024/memes-affect-political-ideas [Accessed 28 October 2024].

Pew Research Center, 2018. 'Social media outpaces print newspapers in the U.S. as a news source', Pew Research Center [online], 10 December. Available at: https://www.pewresearch.org/short-reads/2018/12/10/social-media-outpaces-print-newspapers-in-the-u-s-as-a-news-source/ [Accessed 28 October 2024].

Costa, P.O., n.d. 'Barack Obama's use of the Internet is transforming political communication', Universitat Autònoma de Barcelona [online].

[paleparearchive]

Soothing Singing Voice

Renoir's 1st initial 3★ story (1/2) ( 1 - 2 )

Location: entrance (morning) | Characters: Renoir, Sisley

Renoir: (Fufu, that was fun. And the ladies were nice too…)

Sisley: … Phew.

Renoir: Ah, Sisley. You had a part-time job this morning, didn't you? Good job.

Sisley: Ah… Renoir. Thank you. I see you were out too.

Renoir: Yes, I was out shopping with some ladies I met the other day. There were so many nice things, we couldn't stop looking.

Sisley: Fufu, sounds like you had a lot of fun. I'm glad.

Renoir: (If it were Bazille, he would've had a wrinkle between his eyebrows and said "Aren't you bothering people?”... If it were Courbet, I'm sure he'd let out a sigh and say, "You've been playing around again?”.)

… Hey, Sisley. I've been playing around again... You don't find that appalling?

Sisley: Fufu, I don't. I think it's very typical of you.

Renoir: I see…

(Sisley basically never denies anything. He's open to everything… Fufu, I feel at home with Sisley.)

Oh yeah, how about we have some tea now? I bought some nice tea leaves from a lady I met today.

Sisley: Ah… Alright, then should I invite Monet and Bazille too?

Renoir: That would be okay, but… now I might be in the mood for a cup of tea with you alone.

Sisley: …

Renoir: Sisley?

Sisley: Ah, sorry. Did you say something?

Renoir: I said I'd like to have tea with you alone... Are you tired, by any chance?

Sisley: N-No! I'm fine.

Renoir: Hmm, You're so quick to say you're fine. I'm not sure I can trust you. Is that the truth?

Sisley: … Just a bit. I think it's because I've been working part-time these past few days.

Renoir: That's why I haven't seen you for the last few days. You should loosen up, you know? Why don't you get some rest?

Sisley: Of course, I know. I was actually supposed to take the day off today… but suddenly they said they were short on people, so I had to take a shift.

Renoir: (He's always been the kind of person who can't say no when asked to do something. That's what I like about Sisley, though.)

I know I'm the one who invited you, but shouldn't you take it easy?

Sisley: It's okay. I don't have any plans after this.

Renoir: But you have another part-time job tomorrow, right?

Sisley: About that, well…

Renoir: What job?

Sisley: … Construction sites, restaurant kitchens, and then maybe handing out flyers.

Renoir: That many!? And they all require physical strength…

No matter how much you want to do, you'll collapse. Don't push yourself. Come on, let's go back to our room. I'll bring some restful aroma there later. If there is anything else I can do, please let me know.

Sisley: … Anything is fine?

Renoir: What about it? The only thing I can do is to ask young ladies in town out on a date.

Sisley: Oh, Renoir… Bazille will scold you again if you keep talking like that, you know?

Renoir: Oops, that would be a problem. Let's not joke about this. So, is there anything you would like me to do, Sisley?

Sisley: Well... Oh, I'd love to hear you sing. That might cheer me up.

Renoir: Sing?

Sisley: Yes. You were a stage singer during our art school days, weren't you?

Renoir: Aaah… Come to think of it, you, Monet and Bazille came to listen to me. Fufu, I remember you drawing pictures of me on stage as a model.

Sisley: Right, right! Then we would ask you to decide whose painting was the best. I still have the pictures from that period. They're a precious memory.

Renoir: Oh really? Typical of you, Sisley.

Sisley: I haven't heard you sing since that time, and it's been a while since I've had the chance to do so. And you have a beautiful singing voice, so I'm sure it'll help... But maybe not?

Renoir: Hmm, well…

[astralfms]

“you  were  SUPPOSED  to  remember  the  food  ?!”  she's  laughing,  head  shaking  as  her  face  reads  nothing  short  of  incredulous.  “that's  what's  implied  when  you  ask  someone  on  a  picnic  date,”  teasing,  she  squeezes  his  hand.  “unless  there  was  a  memo  that  went  out  and  i  missed  it  ?”  unlikely,  but  she  would  give  him  the  benefit  of  doubt.  “i  guess  i  can  give  you  a  FEW  points  back,  though.” 

hands  untwine  with  his  request,  pulling  her  phone  from  her  lap  to  queue  his  song.  she's  never  heard  it,  almost  eager  for  her  own  to  end  and  his  to  start.  she'd  always  believed  music  could  tell  you  a  lot  about  a  person,  if  only  you  listened.  a  new  song  was  perfect  for  a  new  memory,  celeste  humming  along  and  tapping  against  her  thigh  to  the  beat.  “i  can't  believe  i've  never  heard  this,”  tapping  the  heart  icon  and  adding  it  to  her  driving  playlist.  “you  get  extra  points  for  showing  me  a  NEW  FAV."

listening  intently  her  body  turns  toward  him,  hair  blowing  around  her  as  wind  whipped  through  the  window.  it  was  only  a  matter  of  time  until  they  reached  the  beach,  and  she  intended  to  soak  up  every  moment  of  their  shared  bubble.  “that's  what  made  me  want  to  see  you  again,  i  think,”  a  small  hum,  lips  ticking  upward  as  she  recalls  the  night.  “it  felt  so  EASY,  and  the  night  went  by  so  QUICK.”  time  had  passed  in  a  way  that  left  her  wanting  more,  curious  about  who  exactly  the  man  across  from  her  was.  beyond  a  night  out  at  the  bar,  and  in  a  more  NEUTRAL  setting.  she'd  had  a  good  feeling  about  it,  and  was  glad  that  she  hadn't  been  proved  wrong.  “hopefully  today  will  be  nice  and  slow  down  for  us  a  little,"  a  small  bout  of  laughter  follows,  seeing  the  pattern  in  them  being  unaware  of  their  surroundings.  “maybe  we  both  need  to  stop  paying  so  much  attention  to  ourselves  and  LOOK  AROUND.  imagine  how  much  sooner  we'd  have  met,  neighbor  ?” 

the  light  is  green  and  they're  back  on  their  way,  eyes  drawing  back  out  the  window  as  she  mulls  over  his  question.  the  air  has  shifted,  more  sentimental  in  a  way.  “why  wouldn't  she  ?”  turns  back  with  the  question,  head  tilting.  she's  noticed  his  apprehension,  and  found  it  endearing.  “do  you  have  some  FREAKY  SKELETONS  hiding  in  the  closet  that  should  scare  me  away  ?”

“ really? i lost points? ”  his mouth parts to emit a small gasp. “ now how many points do i get for remembering to bring food? ”  parker passes a cheeky smile—he'd taken a peek inside her bag when he tucked it away. in a smaller cooler he packed the following: a greek pasta salad, some homemade hummus and pita bread, some sandwiches, and a simple charcuterie board. maybe they wouldn't finish it all but he hoped to impress. “ i'll remember it. ” it's almost laughable how quick he is to agree with her. celeste made it easy to. especially with his hand in hers and over her lap. “ song request. can you play "tiny moves" by the bleachers for me? ”  it's a strange feeling, really. usually he'd pull back and pass his phone so that they could scroll through his liked songs. he finds that he's reluctant to pull away. her song choice makes it feel like a movie. when celeste poses her question, parker starts with, “ well... ” his voice trails off to take some time to give more thought into his answer. he hums softly until the light turns red and his foot eases into the brakes. “ i think i just hoped you'd want to see me again. i didn't write myself off but i also know that i'm not entitled to anything either, you know? i didn't expect anything of you. ” he feels her eyes on him and to follow through with that connection, he does his best to hold eye contact (while praying that the light would stay red and that the cars in front of him with hover if the lights turned green). it was a feeling that was hard to describe. parker was a cautious soul—he was never one to call it love prematurely. he took his time. so it wasn't a love at first sight but rather, a familiarity. celeste was somewhere between (or a mix of) 'i've lost so much time not knowing you' and 'it might just be you.' “ something i can say for sure is that when we met, i just felt hopeful. i guess i was so busy, i didn't notice my surroundings. then we talked, and i was glad i was there. ” from the corner of his eyes, he notices that the light turns green. saved by pure timing, his focus returns to the road and words come easier. “ what about you? ” there's a quick glance over at the other. “ no niceties? the pretty girl actually wants to be around me?  ”