#say or ask me something in response to my points

[bluewxrld07]

Soap (Alternate Ending)

Lando Norris X F!Reader

Summary: Y/N has always loved hard and shows that through affection. Especially lately. She's a touch-starved kind of lovergirl, and Lando has always been okay with it. At least she thought so.

Warning(s): tension, flangst, fluff

A/N: TAGLIST IS FULL!!!! I won't be able to tag anymore of you on it, I'm sorry, loves!! ALSO HOLY MOLY WE HIT 1,000 FRIENDS???! YOU GUYS ARE AMAZING WTF!! I love how much you guys are loving this fic and my writing, it truly means the world!! Enjoy this for now, friends :)

Lando hadn't slept.

He hadn't been able to think straight.

People noticed at the premiere that he had only been there physically, but not anywhere near emotionally or mentally.

Critics kept saying it was because of the loss he took, or that maybe McLaren was trying to replace him with Oscar. Replace what Lando had built from the ground up.

The truth was, it was never that. It was the words he said to Y/N. It was the way her facial expression changed and broke as he spat absolute nonsense at her.

Everything he said was out of anger and frustration. He couldn't get his words out of his head. He couldn't get her out of his head.

It didn't help that his encounter with Max had haunted him. The way he had this fire in his eyes, he's rarely seen. Something he has rarely even seen on the track.

His emotions got the best of him that night, and they continued to get the best of him. When it came to the after-party post the F1 movie premiere, he couldn't stop thinking about Lewis' words.

It didn't stop him from messaging Max that night of the premiere, asking if it were true.

You have a lot of fuckin nerve to be sending me a message right now

That's all he received from the Redbull driver, nothing more, nothing less. Lando didn't know if he should be worried or have no right to be upset knowing what he knows now.

He didn't even think Max would send a response back. If anything, he expected a middle finger emoji if Max did respond.

Lando sat in the backseat of the large SUV, playing with his lower lip as his knee bounced continuously. His other hand was counting his fingers back and forth with his thumb.

To say he was a nervous wreck was an absolute understatement.

His mind wouldn't stop racing. It just wouldn't give him a quiet state of mind. Not once.

He had finally touched back home in Monaco, being driven back to his place as he kept arguing with himself if he should go see her once he was unpacked at home.

She'd probably slam the door on him. Or worse, Max would probably answer and have Lando's head on a stick for even trying to talk to her when she wasn't ready.

At that point, he wouldn't care if he was being honest with himself.

He decided against it for the time being, deciding that maybe he should try later in the week. Even though it would eat him alive till he saw her again.

Once Lando had gotten up to his place, he threw his stuff on his couch, the apartment already feeling empty and cold without her presence there. It was as if the light had left with her. His place was dark and gray in that moment.

He let out a sigh as he looked around the place, feeling both defeated, hungry, and tired. All at the same time.

When he went to his kitchen to see what he had for food, he let out a frustrated groan as he realized he had emptied his fridge before going away.

He slams it shut before heading back over to his living room to grab his wallet, keys, and phone, soon making his way out of his apartment to head towards the car garage.

It was a quiet drive as he drove down the still buzzing streets of Monaco, not missing the way some people were videoing his car passing by. Nothing out of the norm for his life, he didn't thinka single thing from it.

He tries to pull his hoodie higher over his head, adjusting his cap as well, not wanting people to catch the way his face looked more hollow and sad.

Once he makes it to the cafe parking lot, he pulls into a spot more secluded from the entrance and quickly scurries over to the front door.

The cafe smells like fresh coffee and grilled food, something that made the atmosphere feel much lighter than Lando had expected.

He goes up to order something to eat and drink, mentally fighting with himself to remember to have his assistant order his groceries later on when he is settled back home.

As he goes to sit at a table and wait, his eyes do a double-take and his body freezes.

His eyes lock with none other than Max Verstappen's own, who is walking into the cafe and waiting in line. Max's eyes looked like they could put him six feet under if they were able to.

Instead of Lando going to take a seat, he decides to stand over by the end of the bar, and wait paitently till Max was done ordering.

He could hear the way he had ordered Y/N's go-to choices, making his heart and chest cave in. He felt so many questions began to bombard his mind, not even stopping them from increasing as it made him just want to fix things with her more and more.

He knew that would probably be borderline impossible with Max being the way he was about her.

More or less, the way he felt about her.

Once Max had finished paying, he made his way down the line and closer to Lando, his eyes glaring at the green-eyed man.

As Max walked up to him, instead of bumping Lando's shoulder, he turned to the side and pushed himself past his figure. Lando's body reacted before he could, grabbing Max's forearm.

Max whipped around and shot a look at Lando, his eyes still having fire in them.

"Let go."

Lando clenched his jaw, feeling his self-esteem slowly increase. He wasn't going to give in.

"I'm not letting go," Lando shook his head. That meaning had more behind it, and he knew Max figured that out as his eyes widened only slightly.

Max clenched his jaw before snatching his arm away, turning his full body towards Lando, and crossing his arms.

"Oh, so now you've got some spunk in you? Where was that at dinner?" he asks. "You're lucky I don't put you in a fucking grave right now."

Lando nods slowly. "I deserve that-"

"You deserve way more than that."

"Yeah, I do. I'm not going to deny it," he admits, watching Max not let up on his stance. "I never meant to hurt her. You know me. You know me more than anyone else in that paddock."

Max scoffed and rolled his eyes. "I thought I did. Until you threw everything Y/N has ever known back in her face like it was so easy. Like she was a joke."

Lando rubs his face. "I never meant to say any of it. I won't even excuse it, because taking my frustrations out on her should've never been the case. I know that. I know that, Max."

"So why the fuck did you say it then? Hm?" Max shoots back, stepping closer to Lando. "Why would you break her heart like that? Why would you say she is-"

"Because I was upset! I know it's not a valid excuse, I don't want to make any excuses. Because this was unexcusable," Lando snaps back, huffing in a defeated way as he feels his eyes begin to burn. "I regret what I said. Every single day since then. She is not even close to anything I said. She is the absolute and complete opposite of it. She's been my rock forever, Max. And if anything, I took it for granted."

Max sees Lando's eyes turning red, hearing a small sniffle leave his figure. This made Max soften. Not out of guilt, but out of shock.

Lando rarely ever cried in public. It wasn't something he did. He was emotional when it came to racing, of course. This was a different story.

"Y/N is loving. She's caring. She always gives love to everyone around her because that's just who she is. She's a giver. And I took her for granted."

Lando looks up from his shoes to Max, shrugging his shoulders as he felt his emotions take over, making him feel defeated more than he did five minutes ago.

"I'm sorry, Max," he says before chuckling dryly to himself. "I'm saying sorry to you because I broke your trust with her. I'm sorry that I made you think you can't trust me to date her."

"I'm not her dad, I don't care who she dates. I'm just protective of who she is around because-"

"Because you're in love with her. I know that."

Max froze, his shoulders dropping. "What?"

Lando nods before biting his bottom lip. "Lewis told me. He said how you really feel for her. It's why you are so protective over who she keeps around."

"That fucking piece of-" Max stops himself before rubbing a hand over his face, shaking his head as he scoffs to himself.

"You know what I'm not sorry for, though?" Lando spoke up, making Max whip his eyes to Lando, squinting at him.

"I'm not sorry for loving her, too. I'm also not sorry for wanting to fight for her," Lando admits. "I want her. I want her more than anything in this world, or the next. I want her more than a fucking world championship."

Max feels his chest tighten at his words, trying hard to not smack Lando in that moment.

Yet, at the same time, Max didn't blame Lando. He couldn't blame Lando for speaking his truth. He had more balls than any of the other racers at that moment.

Yes, Max loved Y/N. He always has, and deep down he always wished it would've been him she chose.

He also wasn't going to force her to fall for him; he wanted her to make a choice in who she wanted. Who she wanted to love.

At the end of the day, he just wanted her happy.

So, as Max stood in front of Lando, he took in every single detail of Lando's appearance. Thinking back to how much Y/N had raved about Lando when they first got together. How right he treated her, no matter the circumstance. Lando was her one.

And Y/N was Lando's.

"I'm not going to ask for your forgiveness, because I don't deserve it. I don't deserve hers at all, out of anyone's. I just wanted to get that off my chest. It's been eating me up," Lando adds. "But it doesn't mean I won't redeem myself for her, and show her how long I'm willing to wait to make things right."

Before they can say anything further, both of their names are called, causing them both to go grab their items.

Lando grabs his, Max still looking at him with a frown on his face. Lando gives him a purse smile.

"See you around, Max."

With that, Lando leaves and makes his way to his car.

"Lando."

Max's voice calls out behind him, causing Lando to stop and turn his head to look at the Dutch man.

Max walks up to Lando, stopping in front of him. Only to peer down at the items in his hand, and soon motioning over towards Lando to take.

They were Y/N's items. Her iced latte she loved, her favorite pastries, and a chicken caesar wrap with crisps.

"Don't fuck this up. Or you're not getting another chance. Ever," Max says, giving Lando the bag and coffee.

Lando looks up at him with a confused frown. "What?"

Max shrugs before letting out a huff. "Yeah, I love her too. I do," he admits with a nod of acceptance. "But I love seeing her happy more. And she gets that with you."

Lando feels his heart swell at the thought of that. Of her feeling that way with him.

"She's gonna kill me, but if this works out, it will be worth it," Max says dryly. He pats Lando's shoulder.

"Don't. Mess. This. Up."

With that, Max walks off towards his car. Lando slowly turned back to his car, setting the items in his car nicely so none of them spilled. Once he fully got into his car and turned the ignition, he sat there for a moment, just thinking about everything he was going to say.

Then he took a deep breath, put his car in drive, and set off for Y/N's apartment.

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Y/N had frowned at Max's message as it came in, wondering what he could've meant as she sat there.

Don't kill me, just trust me

He sent that message over fifteen minutes ago, still not back from the cafe. She hadn't known whether to worry or not, as he didn't respond to her questioning messages.

There were soon a few soft knocks on her door, making her frown to herself. She got up from her spot on the couch, wrapping the large hoodie more over her figure as she got to the door.

"Max, you can just walk in-"

As she opened the door, her voice froze mid-sentence, and her eyes widened.

"Hi."

She stood there frozen, looking at Lando, who stood there with the cafe bag in his hand and her iced latte in the other. His face showed a sign of uneasiness and caution, but she could also see he looked so tired.

"Lando?"

"May I come in?"

"Why are you here?"

"I want to fix things," he shrugs slowly. "Or at least say my part, and then you can kick me out. I just wanted to at least see you. Talk to you."

Y/N stayed silent for another moment before slowly moving to the side and letting him come in.

Once he had gotten inside, it immediately made him feel warmth grow in his chest. The familiar scents that screamed her, the warm lighting from her lamps and fairy lights in the room eased his mind. Eased his emotions.

He set her stuff down on the coffee table, his eyes catching her go to binge-watch show playing quietly on the TV.

Lando turned to face her once again, taking in her figure. Not missing that the large sweatshirt she wore had been one of the pairs he gave to her. It was his favorite one he owned, but he gave to her because he loved seeing her in it.

His eyes soon find her own, seeing her face also flush as she probably noticed he caught her wearing it.

"You can talk," she spoke softly, keeping her arms crossed and keeping a safe distance. He hated seeing how far she stood from him. The more they stood across from one another, was like his body began to realize it was her there. It had begun to crave the touch he knew and loved all too well.

"I first off want to say I'm sorry," he says slowly, clearing his throat. He watches her face contort lightly, as if she hated hearing the apology. He nodded. "I know that's not what you want to hear, but it's the first thing I need to tell you. Because I am. I will spend the rest of my days saying that."

Y/N stays silent, only nodding slowly for him to proceed.

"I don't condone anything I said, and no excuse will make up for what I said. How I reacted," he croaked out, trying his best to keep his voice from shaking fully. "No matter how upset or mad or frustrated I get, I shouldn't use you as a punching bag. It's not fair to you, especially when you're all I want after I have a shit day."

"Then why did you say that stuff?" her voice cracks out, making his chest tighten and his heart break. He sees her eyes watering.

"Out of frustration. I was upset at the race. At McLaren. At myself," he admits. "So I pushed you away. Distanced you from me because it was getting harder. I didn't want you to see me at my worst."

"You know I would never judge you. I'll never downplay you at your worst times. I've never done that. Did I do something to make you think that?"

He began to shake his head quickly. "No. Absolutely not, never. You've never shown me any sign of that," he reassures her as he takes a few steps closer to her. He watches as her body cowers lightly at his closeness, so he stays where he then stood.

"You have done nothing but love me, care for me, and show me how much I deserve. Showed me more than I think I've ever deserved," he assures her.

Lando watches her lower lip wobble, her eyes never leaving his own. He can see the puffiness underneath them now from where he stood.

He wanted to do nothing but take her into his arms, and shut them both away from the rest of the world and nurse her back to herself again. The her he loved that he broke apart.

"You were never clingy. You were never too much for me. You were never any of that," he shook his head as he looked down at her. "You've been nothing but loving, caring, selfless, and my anchor. You have always been everything I've ever needed."

Y/N sniffles as she looks at him. "Because I love you, Lan. Because you made me happy in my own skin."

He sighs in relief, nodding at her. "Y/N, I love you so much. So so much. I love you for you. I love who you are, and I'd never want you to change that. I fucked up in the worst way possible, and I can't tell you how much I regret that entire interaction. It haunts me. Absolutely haunts me."

"What if you were right? What if I am too much?" she chokes out, and he shakes his head.

"You're not, Y/N, you are not. You bring nothing but light and warmth to this world. To my world. To the F1 world. You are the absolute sunshine. Don't dim that light. Please," Lando shakily says, tears falling freely from his eyes. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry I made you think you were. You aren't. You're everything."

Y/N slowly takes a step closer to Lando. Then another. Then another. Then another, until she is right in front of him.

Both of them are crying freely. Something she hasn't seen much from Lando, and she could tell his body had held in so much. So, being who she always has been, she reaches up her hand and softly uses the pad of her thumb to wipe away some of his tears.

She doesn't miss the way his body physically relaxes at her touch, a sigh of relief leaving his shaky lips as he closes his eyes. His body almost chasing her hand as she cups his cheek just barely.

"You have no idea," he says, slowly shaking his head. "No idea how much I miss you. How much I miss your touch. I crave it. I literally crave you, Y/N."

His eyes open slowly to find her own, looking down at her.

"I'm so sorry."

Y/N just looks back and forth between his eyes, before nodding slowly. Lando lets out a few relieving breaths as she nods, feeling his whole body relax as he keeps his eyes on hers.

"Please let me touch you. Hold you. Anything."

"Okay."

With that, Lando doesn't hesitate to wrap his arms around her waist tightly, lifting her up and wrapping her legs around his hips as he carries her to her couch.

He lays them down, her on top with her body wrapped around his own. Lando's grip not letting up, scared as if she might slip away again.

The pair held each other tight, Y/N finally letting her sobs fall freely as Lando held her tight, caressing every piece of skin he could. His voice stayed hushed as he whispered sweet nothings and apologies in her ears, vowing to never hurt her again. How he promised he would never let her slip away.

Y/N looked up from her spot in his neck a few moments later, as her sobs came to quieter sniffles, his eyes looking down at her.

Before she knew it, she had slowly pressed her lips onto his own, Lando humming softly at her lips on his after much too long. He felt his heart growing again, Y/N feeling her chest become full again the more she stayed in his arms.

The pair knew that there was much to work from, and much to still sort out. They knew they'd come back strong, it was just going to take time.

This was a start.

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A/N: Ahhhhh hello friends!! Hehe I told you that you'd be seeing me again VERY soon! I won't lie, this had been rewritten, deleted, and rewritten once again, like five times, lol until I was satisfied. I hope you all enjoyed this as much as I did writing it. I got a little emotional ok, it was too good.

I have some more stuff in the drafts, and most likely will be sending out a poll later tonight on which to release first. I can't thank you guys enough for showing all the love you have! I can't wait to show you all what more I have waiting hehe :)

Love you all and I will see you soon, friends!!

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[screamlet]

reunion cuddles? 👉👈 (also yay you're working on layla and bailey)

a happy one!!! my god!! in this economy!! (and layla and bailey are chugging along, can you believe difficult conversations are difficult to write? surprised the hell out of me) anyway: 850ish words of post s8 fix-it. inspired by @rcmclachlan's recurring tag "a three-minute conversation could fix them." this is like. idk. seven to eight minutes max.

---

As Buck and Tommy unpack their flea market and garage sale findings, Buck looks around his new apartment. He's been here a month and a half and it already looks so much like a home, a place where he wants to spend his time.

He knows in his gut that's because he can see so many pieces of Tommy here. The dark teal vase he said looked better than a navy one. A pair of framed sketches of backyard bugs, where Buck had found one and Tommy had dug around for its match, finally found it for him.

And there's the most obvious: Tommy standing in his kitchen gently cleaning a new vintage serving dish they'd found that Buck can't wait to cook in. Fuck, this is—it's what he wants.

Buck has been thinking and staring long enough that Tommy's finished drying off the dish. He catches Buck's eye and smiles. "Everything okay?"

"Yeah. Yeah, kinda." Buck moves into the kitchen and stands across from him on the other side of the island. "Can we talk about something?"

He can see the way Tommy's shoulders immediately tense. "Yeah, of course. You can tell me anything."

"I know, but as I want this to go both ways," Buck says. He waits until Tommy's done drying the dish and Tommy's done when he realizes Buck isn't talking until he is.

"So what's up?" He looks so terrified already that Buck wants to back off; he doesn't want to be responsible for putting that expression on his face. But the only way out is through, and Buck has to get this thing moving.

"I want to try again. Us. Being together. Dating." Buck doesn't look away. "Would you want that?"

Tommy looks at him like there's a catch and, honestly, he's right to do it. There's lots of catches, Buck's going to make sure of that. "Yeah. Yeah, I do."

They say it in unison: "What's the catch?" Tommy rolls his eyes, smiling, and Buck can't help tilting his head to follow his smile.

"We have to talk to each other," Buck says slowly. "I want to know you, Tommy. All of you. I mean it."

He can tell that a dozen self-deprecating jokes want to punch their way out of Tommy's mouth, but he's holding them back. He's digging. They might actually do this. Buck really hopes so.

"I think," Tommy says, "that when you scratch past all this, you're gonna find a whole lot of nothing."

"Yeah, well. Let me decide, would you?" Buck tries his best not to look away. "Maybe what you call nothing means more to me than everyone else's something."

Tommy nods, still unconvinced. Buck asks, "What do you want? What do you need? I want you to stay with me. What can we do to make that happen?"

The silence stretches out and Buck lets it. He can do this—he can make space for Tommy. He's just relieved that Tommy's trying. He's trying to try. He's digging and that's all Buck wants. He wants more Tommy.

"I listen to you, Evan," Tommy says, "and I think you're used to letting your words roll off people's backs. I'm not like that. I hear you. I take you seriously, so you have to watch what you say. You have to think about what you're saying before you say them to me. And if you promise to do that, then I'll promise to stay. I just—" Tommy drums his fingers nervously on the counter. "If I show you my feelings, I don't want them to get hurt. So don't hurt me with things you don't mean."

Buck nods. "Okay. Okay, I can try to do that."

"Okay." He's going to drum the kitchen island to pieces at this point. "And you have to give me time. Like." Tommy laughs and motions to himself. "The excavation process here? It's a long one. A long one. So just. Let me." Tommy smiles. "Like you're doing now. Like this."

"Okay. I can do that." Buck smiles back. "I like hearing things about you. I can listen, Tommy. I want to hear you. So talk to me."

"And we have to talk," Tommy says. "I don't want to bury things because I think you'll leave. I don't want to leave because I think you want me to bury things."

Buck nods, then grins. "I'm getting a notepad. We should write this down."

Tommy laughs. "Really? You can't remember this?"

"Now? Yeah. When we need it, in the moment? Maybe not! So: terms and conditions."

The only paper Buck has is a 5×5" notepad with a crate of vegetables printed in the corner. Tommy shakes his head as Buck comes around with a pen. "Okay, so."

"Come here," Tommy interrupts. He hugs Buck, his hand resting at the nape of Buck's neck. "We're doing this?" he asks quietly.

Buck hugs him back tight, pen and paper in one hand as he sways in his arms. "Yeah, we are. As soon as we finalize our contract."

Tommy hugs him tighter. Buck sighs with relief, the newest piece of his new life finally in place, exactly where he wants him to be.

[rooksamoris]

OLD WORLD POP CULTURE !!

💞 — in which you blurt out internet quotes from your home world to your twisted wonderland friends. 💞 — featuring; mozus trein, ace trappola, vil schoenheit, rook hunt, malleus draconia and leona kingscholar. 💞 — gender neutral reader. a bit over 200 words each. warnings: cursing. i let my impulsive thoughts win with this one. all are quotes i regularly use, i fear.

MOZUS TREIN.

“Daddy chill.”

The moment you said it, you regretted it. The entire class went silent, including Professor Trein, who had been ranting about you and your classmate’s reliance on your tech devices. He was getting quite passionate as he went on and on about the benefits of physical media and the dangers of misinformation online, and you just had to say it. You were on the ledge, and no one was there to talk you down.

Even Lucius seemed disgusted.

Trein slowly turned around to face you, his expression stern. His gaze narrowed in on you, and his lips were curled into a scowl. “Prefect,” he started, but you were quick to speak.

“I am so sorry, sir,” you mumbled, bowing your head. Beside you, Grim was muffling his laughter behind his paws. 

He huffed, “I want a written apology. Ten pages. With detailed arguments for why your behavior was inappropriate, and a description of how you will improve your behavior.”

“Holy shit,” Ace muttered, shutting up when Deuce glared at him. He could not let this ruin his honor student goals.

You just nodded sadly, “Yes, sir.”

“And stay after class. You will be skipping your free period to help me organize documents for the rest of the week.”

ACE TRAPPOLA. 

“You’re not getting it—it’s not clocking to you. It’s not clocking to you that I’m standing on business.”

Board game night with the first years was never an organized event, nor was it a friendly event, despite being all about getting your friends in one place to have a good time. You were all in a circle, with Ace being across from you, Epel on your left, and Sebek on your right. It was a wonder you managed to get him to come (with help from Lilia). You were just livid at this point with Ace's claims that you were cheating, when really, you were just that good at the game. He did not need to drag your name in the mud because he was shit, and it reminded you of something great said by Justin Bieber.

Epel laughed out loud, while the rest were silent.

Ace just stared you down for a moment before scoffing. “You don’t even make any sense,” he said, before gesturing to the game, “But there’s no way you should be this far! You didn’t shuffle the action cards properly.”

You frowned and threw the dice at him, hitting him in the chest. “Maybe you should stand on business, and then you’d be as far as I am.”

VIL SCHOENHEIT. 

“Beautiful? This is the skin of a killer, Bella.”

Vil had you sitting on the stool before his vanity as he tested out a new highlighter he was sent. He figured it would suit your complexion much better than his, and he wanted to test it out. He mentioned how beautiful it looked on you, and you replied with that strange response. 

He raised a brow, pulling the brush back from your cheek.

“The skin of a killer?” he asked, almost seeming tired of your strangeness. Vil leaned away from you, resting a hand on his hip. He was used to Rook, but you had a specific type of weirdness about you. “And who is Bella?” 

You grinned, eyes brightening, “So, it all begins with this Mormon woman named Stephenie Meyer, back in my world…”

Unfortunately, part of your weirdness came with these long rants about media you spent many years interacting with in your home world. He was always happy to learn about your world, the way things worked, and the different ideas you had because of it, but he could confidently admit that he did not need to know that much about the Confederacy, shimmery vampires, Mormonism, and Nessy, nicknamed after the Lockness Monster.

ROOK HUNT.

“I hate to say it, I hope I don’t sound ridiculous, I don’t know who this man is… I mean, he could be walking down the street— I wouldn’t— I wouldn’t know a thing. Sorry to this man.”

The blonde gasped in surprise. You expressed to Rook that you wanted to learn more about film in this twisted world you were stuck in, but you were admittedly too intimidated by Vil to ask him and appear silly. Rook was more than happy to share films with you, firstly showing you one of his favorite actors, sure that you would at least recognize his face from your time stuck here, Neige LeBlanche, but instead, you admitted to not having the slightest clue about him.

“Oh, mon Trickster…” he swooned, dramatically resting a hand on his heart, before looking at you, “Worry not. As your dear friend, I shall open your eyes to the beauty of Neige and Vil’s work,” he said. He was very eager to ramble to you and make you watch the films with him, sharing his commentary and so on. 

“Sure, we can make a marathon of it,” you said, smiling. Every moment was amusing with Rook.

He grinned, “Of course! We should start as soon as possible, mon ami,” he said, taking your hand and tugging you through the halls of Pomefiore and towards his dorm room.

You may have just sentenced yourself to five hours of watching films with Rook. 

MALLEUS DRACONIA.

“My New Year’s resolution is to keep my foot on these bitches necks.” 

Malleus’s eyes widened, and then his brows furrowed. What had been a deeply philosophical discussion about the human concept of New Year's celebration became awfully strange and almost offensive. He had expressed to you how each year seemed to pass by so quickly. He was often put off by the speed of time. Fae time was different from human time, and that meant that before he knew it, humans would be born, humans would grow, and then they would die. 

After it all, he asked what your resolution for New Year’s was. He assumed it would be about going back to your home world, or something selfless. Not that.

“Whose neck would you like your foot to remain on?”

“These bitches,” you replied, admiring the snowy weather. 

“Ah,” he nodded, watching you, seeming a bit frustrated. Malleus had to think for a moment before deciding to chalk it up to you being from another world. He could not act as if he were well acquainted with humans, generally, much less humans from another world. He smiled and then nodded, “Then may you keep your foot on the necks of these grimalkin.”

LEONA KINGSCHOLAR. 

“If you had a fucking business that you were passionate about, then you would know what it takes to run a fucking business, but you don’t!”

You were out in the botanical garden, typing away essays for other students on campus. It was an easy way for you to earn a lot of money since it turned out that wealthy students at this prestigious campus would go through great lengths not to do their work, and you needed more money to survive, quite honestly. However, typing away at Ramshackle was becoming too difficult with Grim's demands and the creaking of the floorboards, so you wanted to get a change of scenery to inspire you. 

Too bad, because his majesty Leona Kingscholar was trying to take a nap and the clickity clacking of your keys was pissing him off, so he just had to tell you to shut up. So, you remembered the words of the most out-of-touch businesswoman, Kim Kardashian. 

Leona’s brow twitched. “What does your business have to do with anything? Go write somewhere else. I was here first,” he muttered, not even bothering to sit up, resting his head on his toned bicep. 

You clicked your tongue. “Business comes first.”

©rooksamoris 2025. do not steal or translate my work!

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[professional-idea-haver]

There was a point in my life where I was trying to reconnect with my parents after I'd transitioned (mtf). I was visiting for christmas when my mother gave me some gift cards. They weren't for huge amounts, just enough for some fast food, the $20-25 usd range. Well, one of them was a chik-fil-a card.

Now, I'm fully aware of the fact that they already had my parents money. This purchase is on the books and anything I do from this point won't get that money back. I didn’t even think I could get my parents to stop going. At this point, I was looking for the absolute rock bottom minimum of acceptance and understanding from my parents. I thought I could at least get my parents to understand that this wasn't a gift they should get *me*.

When I brought this up to my mother, her response was an emphatic, "No they don't."

When I cited reports and articles, it became "They donate to all kinds of charities."

When I pointed out that didn’t cancel out the harm they were doing to people "like me, your daughter", she corrected me by saying "my *child* is fine."

I've never been good at confrontation with my parents. I was struggling to string together the arguments I'd rehearsed in my head for moments exactly like that one. It didn't help that I suddenly had two of my siblings swooping in like buzzards to try and pick the gift card out of my hand as they crowed, "If you don't want it, I'll take it!" I was claustrophobic, trapped, and crashing out. So I did the only reasonable thing and crumpled the thin pastic card as best as I could so no one could use it.

THAT was when my parents flipped.

Now *I* was in the wrong because I'd just thrown $20 straight into the trash. Didn't I know how thoughtful it was for my mother to give me - someone just barely able to cover living expenses - some free meals? Didn't I care how this made her feel?

And when I turned that around and asked, "Don't you care how that makes ME feel?" I got a resounding "No."

THEY* were tired of constantly hearing about the queers. Who cared if Chik-Fil-A funded whatever anti-lgbtqabcdefg campaign.

I wish I could say that was when I cut off ties with my parents, but the best I could manage was understanding that they really meant what they said.

Buying from Chik-fil-a isn't JUST actively funding hate campaigns. It's something someone actively decides to do, even knowing how it affects people they *say* they care about. It's a statement that you, a person they know, are worth less to them than whatever they spent on the stupid sandwich, the fucking wizard game, or the chance to "own the libs".

And they don't care. They don't want to think about anything that challenges their self-image on what's good and normal. They want keep living in the matrix and pretend everything is exactly as it is without any of the complications of the real world they're plugged into.

[agentmaxa]

How would Huntrix react to you having tattoos?

A/N: I wasn't descriptive with the tattoos, it's implied they're on your arm though. Masc!R slightly implied, if you squint. And I was going to do Bodyguard!R but I tried to make it so you can decide backstory.

I've also done the girls separately then as a poly.

Rumi is… conflicted to say the least.

She was born with markings she had to hide, marks she didn't want. And there you were.

Your body, a canvas. Your marks, your choice.

It was almost enough to make Rumi envious of you, maybe part of her was a first.

And at first, you thought she hated you for hiding the fact that you had tattoos. The behavior of an Idol was ingrained into her very core, so anything that wouldn’t be okay for an Idol wasn’t okay with her.

Then you noticed her staring a little longer.

Lingering, but not out of judgment. Something you dared to call intrigue, fascination even.

And then one day, while Zoey and Mira were out shopping or doing whatever, you and Rumi sat in the kitchen. You were making some rice cakes in a tank top, Rumi watching from the island in the middle of the kitchen.

Suddenly asking, “Did they hurt?”

You looked over your shoulder, only saying, “Depends on where.” Guessing she was talking about you tattoos.

Now, Rumi was a tattoo virgin (to no one’s surprise), so what she learned about tattoos was typically through social media. Which wasn’t very educational.

And thanks to you, now Zoey, who had been obsessing over tattoos as her new hyper-fixation the last few days.

“So what? The arm hurts more than the leg? That’s it?” You chuckled at her questions.

“In extremely simplified terms, yes. The arm is the least painful spot, actually. But whether you get it here,” You pointed to your forearm, “Or here,” You raise your arm, flexing your bicep to point out your triceps. “Can make the difference for some wimps.”

“Oh.” Was all Rumi said as she admired the tattoo and the muscles it adorned. All while you go back to making tteok.

Once they defeated Gwi-Ma, and you two got romantically involved, through more than a small effort on Zoey’s and Mira’s part, when you cuddled, you two often traced over each other's marks/tattoos.

You smirked when her marks lit up under your touch, part of you wishing your own tattoos did that. Rumi blushed when you told her this little fact, and also mentioned how adorable she is.

Although Rumi easily got back at you when she found out a little bit of your tattoos were layered over some ticklish spots for you. Robbing you of the high ground you had to tease her with.

One night, when kissing the marks on her shoulders as you spooned her, you asked, “Ever thought about getting some ink?”

She mumbled tiredly, “We have ink, it’s in the study we never use.”

Rolling your eyes, you said, “You little dork.” Kissing her neck as you try to rouse her a little, now genuinely curious. “I mean, would you ever consider getting a tattoo?”

Not hearing a response from her, you just assume she fell asleep, but a moment later she says, “I don’t know. I’m still getting used to my marks. Maybe- Nevermind, let’s just get some sleep.”

You turned her on her back, straddling her waist. “No, tell me. You’re not going to leave me on a cliffhanger.”

Rumi gave you a soft glare, trying to turn away as she blushed, “It’s not that important.”

You just blinked at her, saying, “It is to me.” As if it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

Oh my god, I want to marry you.

Was the only thought in Rumi’s head as she looked at you like a deer in headlights. She shook her head, her tiredness getting to her.

“Come on, tell me… pleeeeeease?” You gave a crooked smile and tilted your head ever so slightly. Taking notes from Derpy’s book and turning the charm up to 10 as Rumi when silent.

Rumi felt her blush deepen on her cheeks as it also went to her ears.

“Fine.” She mumbled, just wanting to get you off of her, but you didn’t move.

So she huffed, mumbling, “If I ever get a tattoo, I want us to have a matching thing or something. Happy?”

Now it’s your turn to be a deer in headlights, blushing much like Rumi, but it spreads to your neck instead.

Rumi, looking at you confused, “What? Do you not want that?” Asking nervously.

“Um…” You tried to gather your words, but your mouth moved while your voice stayed caught in your throat. “I…”

Rumi’s nervousness and avoidant eye contact brought you back to reality. Straddling her so both of you could think, you lay back down mumbling, “I’d like that. A lot, actually.”

Rumi turned over in surprise, “Really?” You nodded, feeling your blush fade, but it was still there.

Without hesitation, she kissed you passionately. One thing was for certain: neither of you was going to sleep for a little while.

-----

Mira and Zoey were coming from the bathhouse, umbrella in hand, as you had made a few grocery stops, meeting them in the lift. An unlikely downpour actually happened based on the weather reports.

In the elevator up with them to the penthouse, you shrugged off your jacket, planning to carry it in your arms as it was soaked from the rain, as was your undershirt, not being able to protect yourself from the rain with an armful of groceries. Your shirt was sticking to your muscles.

Now having Mira’s and Zoey’s full attention, you stood in a bad mood, waiting to reach the penthouse and get a clean change of clothes, forgetting they’d never seen your tattoos before.

When Mira first met you, you were quite attractive to her. Well-built, defined muscles from the training and workouts you did.

At least from what little she could see, with a nice suit adorning your body. A 10 out of 10 for her, if you will.

And then she found out you had tattoos.

Originally, you thought you were seeing things when popcorn was coming out of Mira’s eyes, and downright hallucinating when you saw the blush that accompanied her features.

Then Zoey got a bowl out of thin air, collecting some as she watched and admired you as well.

All you could do was say, “Um…” Then the lift door opened, you stepped out, and got into the penthouse first.

Seeing Rumi on the couch, you asked her, hoping for a voice of reason, “What’s happening right now?”

Mira and Zoey are still following you in their own trance. The only reply you got was stunned silence.

Leaving the groceries on the counter, turning to go into your room, you ignored the trio, thinking you were dreaming or something.

Mira, being the most alternative out of the three, you were surprised to feel her analytic gaze the most, as if committing every ink line to memory when available to her. If you hadn’t known any better, you’d guess it was more judgmental than anything.

You found out why when you had seen her leave her fashion sketches on the coffee table, blushing when you saw a figure you could only describe as well… you, in clothes that complemented your tattoos, some even following the lines of your skin onto the fabric as some sort of illusion.

Leaving the sketches untouched, you couldn’t stop thinking about them.

You suppose it was a silent compliment in a way, she had found them beautiful enough to sketch the details of them. Having to stop yourself from blushing on occasion.

No, Mira couldn’t be into you. She was just appreciating art as an artist herself.

Each time you saw her, you thought back to the sketches, until… wait… remembering the handful of sketches she had sprawled out, almost comparing them, why did all of them show off your abs…?

Mira had also made a point on all of the shopping trips they made, you’d carry basically all of the bags. You didn’t mind as you normally did this anyway, but you found it odd how insistent they were about it when you were wearing a tight-fitting long-sleeved shirt.

Rumi just rolled her eyes a little when she caught on to Mira's plan while Zoey didn’t complain one bit as she also reaped the rewards of this.

Most of the time when you weren’t paying attention, Mira was also taking pictures… quite a few pictures, actually. Mira just kept telling herself, it’s for an art study piece for tattoos.

Yeah, that’s what it was, and it’s what she’d tell herself and Zoey or Rumi if they ever questioned her about it.

The photos were just references for her sketches and fashion designs later. That’s all.

And then Zoey caught a glimpse of Mira sketching you sleeping during movie night when your tattoos weren’t even visible.

“Just admit it, Mira. You think Y/n is h-o-t.” Zoey smiled wickedly after she spelled out hot, thinking she had caught Mira. Finally.

Mira, not missing a beat, says, “Sorry, I want to draw a different body type that isn’t 90% legs and not a pencil-thin waist.” With a hint of sarcasm in her voice, with a small smirk.

Zoey threw her head back, groaning silently, focusing back on the movie.

Mumbling, “So close.”

Mira’s smirk dropped, glancing over to you, not moving her head so it wasn’t obvious for Zoey. Looking at you, taking in every detail.

Maybe you were attractive… okay, fine, you are very attractive.

Over the next few days, Mira… oh god, she’s hopeless.

Her idea of flirting is stopping a moment of her sketching and saying, “Your tattoo on your arm is very asymmetrical.”

“The designs are clean and cohesive.”

“Did you purposefully make it so your tattoo moves like that when you flex?”

When all your responses were “ums” and brief answers, Mira was starting to think you weren’t interested. If it weren’t for Zoey’s and Rumi’s face-palming, she wouldn’t have guessed otherwise.

Because of this, Mira, not willingly, now has the help of Zoey and Rumi.

Eventually, Mira and you started hanging out without the other girls, sharing tastes and style. Even showing Mira any future work you have planned for your body.

One night, you lay on Mira’s bed, your shirt off as Mira straddled your waist. Scrolling your phone as you feel Mira continue to draw on your back with a tattoo pen.

“Stop moving.” Mira chastises you a little as she goes over a particularly ticklish area under your ribs near your spine, making you hold in a giggle, making it seem like you were shivering. “It’s just a pen.”

“It’s… ti-tickling… m-me.” You tried to stop the laugh from bubbling up, but failed, Mira pulling the marker away from your back just in time.

“Big baby.” You could hear her smirk in her teasing words.

You just huffed, “Are you almost done anyway?”

“If you stopped moving, I would have been done hours ago.” You looked over your shoulder, giving her a playful glare.

“You’ve only been drawing on me for two hours.” You mumbled, looking at the time as you felt the marker on your back again.

“That’s besides the point.” Mira almost mumbled, speaking softly. You smiled, sighing as you felt her go for another minute or two before hearing her cap the pen. “And done.”

You got up, turning to see the temporary tattoo in the full-length mirror. Line-work for a traditional Japanese dragon was laid out on your back, “Damn. Are you sure you weren’t a tattoo artist in a past life?”

“Glad you like it.”

You took a picture with your phone, saying, “Maybe I should just invest in a good tattoo machine and have you do everything.”

Mira smirked, chuckling a little, “Okay, now you’re pushing it.”

“I’m serious, I think I’ll be disappointed if I actually do get this tattoo done and it ends up being anything else.” You say with your own crooked smile. Picking up the pen, you said, “Okay, your turn.”

Mira just raised her brow, taking off her shirt, lying on her bed while keeping on her bra. Same as she did, you straddled her waist, about to ask what she wanted, when Zoey came into Mira’s room.

Looking at her phone, she asked, “Okay, I know Y/n normally makes dinner, but Rumi and I were craving takeout. Y/n is also M.I.A., so there’s that. We wanted to do sushi, well, Rumi wants sushi…”

You and Mira look at each other, both topless. Trying to get the ignorant girl’s attention, you softly say her name, “Zoey…”

“Oh hey, Y/n,” Zoey said, barely glancing up from the screen.

“But I’ve been craving something American. Maybe you and Y/n could be a tie-” Mira nearly face-palmed herself then and there as Zoey continued unfazed.

Zoey slowly looked up from her phone a second time, “OhMyGod, ImSoSorry, YourBothPracticallyNude-” Zoey said quickly, backing against the door, trying to walk out without turning around.

“C-carry on.” Zoey stammered, speeding out of the room, cheeks as red as can be.

You burst out laughing, knowing Zoey thought something else was going on. Mira cursed herself even as she found the predicament funny, too.

Then you both heard bickering on the other side of the door, not that Rumi and Zoey were listening in, but Zoey felt the need to immediately share her experience with Rumi, even though Rumi was almost falling asleep as she skipped her nap earlier.

“What do you mean they’re doing it?” You could hear Zoey’s blush from here.

“You know what I mean, I mean they’re doing it.”

“No, we're not Zoey!” Mira said, groaning while dragging one hand down her face.

“You’re both naked!” Zoey argued. You groaned, getting off Mira.

Opening the door, hearing Zoey make an “EEP!” sound, you turned around, showing off Mira’s line-work.

“This is why, and don’t worry, I have pants on, Zoey. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a girlfriend to tattoo.” Not waiting for a response, you closed the door, making sure to lock it.

“You know you didn’t have to do that,” Mira stated.

You shrugged your shoulders. “No big deal.” Popping open the cap on the pen, “Now, where were we?”

-----

Zoey doesn’t even care about tattoos and their stereotypes; the moment she sees you have them, she's obsessed.

In fact, if it weren’t so bad for Idols and their image, you’re positive that she would have asked for matching ones.

And she’d definitely insist you stop covering with long-sleeves since you always cover them around any Huntrix member, not wanting to affect their reputations somehow.

Cue you accidentally admitting that is 90% of your wardrobe.

Next thing you know Zoey is sending a GIF to the group chat of the meme, “Get in, bitches. We’re going shopping.”

On said shopping trip, you wore your medical mask and sunglasses to conceal your face, not wanting anyone to guess who you were.

You were subject to the girls, many Zoey, shoving something into your arms and pushing you in the direction of the nearest changing room.

Settling at a small bakery, Zoey casually mentions, “Maybe we should buy our own tattoo machine and tattoo each other.”

In unison, you, Rumi, and Mira said, “No.”

Once you were done for the day, you were exhausted, carrying bags for yourself but also the other girls. Flopping onto your bed, your phone started buzzing every few seconds.

“What on earth…?” You ask as you see a dozen messages from Zoey. Asking several things about your tattoos, sending you Pinterest boards for inspiration, with an emphasis on turtle-inspired tattoos.

“Zoooooey.” You groaned, a small smile appearing on your face anyway as a few of the tattoos were nicely done.

Over the next few days, you got the breadcrumbs of Zoey’s train of thought as she sent you things.

You could honestly say it was cute, even rolling your eyes fondly as she sent you gimmicks or other weird tattoo things until she started to find the ‘gone wrong’ tattoo posts and people who had blurred the line between body modification and mutilation, like the black alien project.

Like you, Zoey believed everyone should have bodily autonomy over themselves, but removing ears, noses, and other things where she started to second-guess somethings, and not in a good way.

Leaving you with a human ball of anxiety, worried that you’d go to that degree as you hid your tattoos.

Because classic Zoey rationality deemed it so.

After a few minutes of you shooting down almost every point she made, she finally believed you. Also, only after you promised to check in with her before and after every tattoo session you had.

And you thought that smoothed out every new development caused by Zoey finding out you had tattoos.

Little did you know when you were passed out after an exhausting day, Zoey had bought a pack of temporary stickers and was now using your blank skin as a canvas. Taking her time to curate the turtles that now looked like they were swimming around your actual tattoos.

Having gone to sleep herself, you woke up and went to the bathroom. Pausing at the mirror for a second to see if something was different.

“Zoooooeeey…” You said, exasperated as you whined a little, seeing the dozens of temporary tattoos.

Getting on with your shower, trying not to irritate the temp tattoos too much, as you know that would disappoint Zoey.

After drying and getting dressed, you headed to the kitchen, seeing Zoey practically bouncing on a bar-stool. Smiling gently, you walk into the kitchen, starting the coffee maker.

“Sooo…?” Zoey asked hopefully.

You just turned around, raising a brow, mimicking her, “Sooo…?”

“Do you like them?”

“Like what?” You teased her by faking innocence.

Zoey groaned, “The temporary tattoos!” Still waiting for your response.

“The tempo- Oh, funny, I didn’t notice those.” You looked at your arm, teasing Zoey even more.

Looking back up at her, you see her pouting. Gently huffing, you say, “Yes, I like them.”

Zoey's smile grew to a cartoon-ish extent, but before she could say anything, you said, “But I am not getting real tattoos to replace them.”

Zoey pouted a bit, seeing you unmoving in your resolve, she sighed, “Fine.”

Focusing on her bowl of cereal, about to pour milk into the bowl. You stopped her, grabbing the carton.

“It’s Sunday. Let’s have an all-American big breakfast. Rumi and Mira can have some too.”

Zoey was back to looking like a kid in the candy shop as you moved around the kitchen to make good on your promise.

After an hour, you had a sample plate of bacon, sausage, eggs, small pancakes and waffles, hash browns, donuts, a few biscuits, and some cinnamon rolls. Knowing the girls would probably have leftovers, but you wanted them to have options.

Being woken up by the smell of food and soft clattering in the kitchen, Rumi and Mira emerged from their respective rooms. Rumi’s eyes fell on the food, looking shocked but also hungry. While Mira’s gaze found you first.

“Whoa,” Mira said while Zoey and Rumi were preoccupied with the food.

You pointed a spatula at her, “Not another word.” Knowing she had seen the temporary tattoos, Mira put up her hands in surrender, focusing on the food like the other two.

-----

Rumi, Mira, and Zoey [Polytr/x] never knew you had tattoos and were flabbergasted when they first saw them.

As expected, Mira just thought you were twice as hot as before. So did Zoey and Rumi, but they were just a tad bit better at hiding it. 

And when Zoey walked in on you two tattooing each other with a pen, she did misread the situation, but she and Rumi were almost sulking as they’d been left out. A little less hurt when they saw how innocent your activity was. 

You and Mira still promised to make it up to both of them.

Zoey does a deep dive into a new tattoo obsession and ends up scaring herself, needing you, Rumi, and Mira to comfort her. Raising your brow, as barely an hour later, the group chat had received a list from Zoey about date ideas involving tattoos.

And Rumi was now positive she was going to have a future with you, but she still had to defeat Gwi-ma. Looking at you in amazement as you still kissed her patterns with love even after she told you they were demon patterns.

Even as she felt guilty for not telling you about demon hunters, as that wasn’t just her secret to tell. You traced her patterns; somehow, your touch was more tender than before.

After defeating Gwi-ma, she’s falling in love with the idea more and more that she'll have a future with you, Mira, and Zoey.

And on a small Huntrix hiatus, you, Mira, Zoey, and Rumi are all sitting in Mira’s room, Zoey applying temporary turtle tattoos to herself while you help Mira map out a temporary piece with a tattoo pen. Rumi watched in silence as her gaze often drifted to her patterns.

“Oh, now look who’s laughing, you big baby?” You jokingly told Mira as she briefly shivered as the wet tattoo pen went over sensitive skin. Smirking as you got back for when she did your back piece.

“You’re doing that on purpose, aren’t you?” Mira accused, still lying down, as you draw around her flat abdomen.

Then Zoey interrupted, “Come on, stop flirting, I want Y/n/n to draw fluorescent and iridescent waves on me next, and you guys are taking foreveeeeeeeeer.” You all just chuckled at Zoey’s impatience.

Taking a moment, you suggest, “I mean, Rumi’s hands are looking pretty free right now.” You turned to Rumi, teasing her, “Unless you think your artistry can’t compete.”

Rumi seemed to break out of the trance she was in. Looking a little confused, until she spotted Zoey looking hopeful while holding two bottles of body paint. “I’ll help.”

You and Mira looked at each other while Zoey just celebrated as she didn’t have to wait any longer. An unspoken conversation that simply conveyed, “We need to watch her.”

Going back to detailing Mira’s stomach, you just listen while Mira moves a little to get visual cues from Rumi. Trying not to be obvious.

Everything seemed to be going fine, thinking you and Mira were worried over nothing, when Zoey suggested it was Rumi’s turn to get a fake tattoo.

“Um… just… I… give me a minute.” Rumi said, hurrying out of the room.

All three of you looked at each other. Zoey asked, “Did I say something wrong?”

You shook your head, “No.” Thinking back to how Zoey and Mira only recently learned about Rumi���s patterns. “Maybe she’s still uncomfortable with her patterns.”

Zoey looked sad and worried, “But we love her. All of Rumi.”

Mira said, “We know that, but maybe Rumi is still accepting it.”

You grabbed the two bottles of body paint Zoey had next to her, the fluorescent and Iridescent paint. Shaking and catching the bottles. You smiled, “I’ve got an idea.”

After looking at Mira’s photo collection of Rumi with her patterns visible, you, Zoey, and Mira worked on each other’s bodies. Going over each other's fake and real tattoos, mixing both of the paints. 

Smirking just a few minutes later, Zoey turned off the lights, the fake patterns making a soft pink glow.

Squinting when the lights came back on, you crossed your arms, Mira and Zoey in patterns. Looking surprised when Zoey’s phone flashed, saving the memory. Whipping off the ones on your face temporarily, you said, “I'll get Rumi.”

You pointed at Zoey, “Don’t post that yet, Zo.” Zoey just smiled innocently and blushed. You turned to the door, about to leave, “On second thought,” You saw Zoey about to hit the post button, “Mira, a little help.”

Without a second thought, Mira grabbed Zoey’s phone, holding it above the girl's head, “Way ahead of you, Y/n/n.”

“Heyyyy!” Zoey whined, trying to jump for her phone.

You just smiled, heading to Rumi’s room.

Knocking softly on the door, you make sure the bathrobe you snagged covers all of your body, keeping up the surprise of the shiny purple patterns underneath.

After hearing a small sniffle, you soften, seeing Rumi barely crack open the door. Whispering, “Hey, I wanted to check up on you after giving you some time.”

Rumi looked through the small opening, opening it more. It wasn’t terribly obvious she was crying, but she did look upset. 

Rumi rubbed her eyes, pretending to be sleepy, “Yeah, I’m just cranky, I guess. Not enough sleep last night.”

You smiled, “Okay. If you insist. Maybe we can all cuddle later, but I have something to show you first.” Rumi looked at you, surprised, looking down at the hand you held out. She took it, letting you lead her to Mira’s room.

Opening the door led to a scene neither you nor Rumi had expected. Zoey had made Mira her personal climbing gym, trying to get the phone back.

You cleared your throat, making the girls freeze. Pinching the bridge of your nose when Zoey and even Mira had given you a sheepish grin in return.

“I… I don’t… understand… what’s going on?” Rumi asks, taking a minute as she sees paint on Mira’s and Zoey’s bodies mimicking her patterns. You get a brush and start reapplying the patterns on Rumi’s face onto yours.

Zoey started, “Well,” glancing over at Mira, who continued,

“Zoey’s little date idea for this tattoo party was to…” You finish as the patterns on her face were easy to replicate, “tattoo stuff that we loved.”

Undoing the robe, you let it drop to your feet, showing you had done the same thing to your body, only being covered by shorts.

“And we love you, Rumi. Every single part of you.” You said softly.

All three of you moved closer to Rumi until you had your hand on her shoulder, seeing her eyes tearing up. Mira and Zoey were standing in front of her, almost waiting for permission to touch her.

Rumi turned to you and put her head into your neck, as she started crying. You held her, nodding for Mira and Zoey to join. Within seconds, Rumi was engulfed in a group hug as her body gently shook and her cries got heavier, turning into sobs.

We stayed like this for a few minutes, then we heard Rumi’s cries dissolve to whimpers, and then suddenly, you, Mira, and Zoey were the only things holding her up. Carefully backing up, you picked her up, carrying her to bed, the other two joining you.

Mira uses a remote to turn off the lights in the room, making all of you glance at Rumi’s sleeping form as her patterns still glow softly.

Mira whispered, “So you weren’t exaggerating about her being a glow-stick.” Making you chuckle as you remember the debate while you were tattooing patterns onto each other.

“It’s cute if you ask me,” Zoey whispered.

“You think everything is cute,” You teased Zoey, then glanced over to the sleeping girl, “But yeah, it’s definitely adorable.”

“Rumi care day tomorrow?” Mira asked you two, knowing you all wanted to take care of Rumi. God knows she won’t like getting babied.

“Yeah.” You and Zoey said at the same time.

[swanimagines]

HEY! ME AGAIN! if you're still writing one shots, you could do a morpheus (sandman) x goddess! reader?? i was thinking of one where they were lovers with no strings attached for a long time (like some kind of friendship with benefits??) until morpheus asked reader to marry him because he realized he was really in love. reader turned down the request because she was scared of the weight of commitment it would bring and the rejection eventually led to a fight, despite the two loving each other. when morpheus disappeared, reader didn't go after him for some reason and when he returned, they were reunited. they talk then and make up, maybe getting back to the relationship they had before?? i dunno, maybe morpheus admits he was scared to let her go and they decide to take things more quietly thank you and have a good day!

A/N: Note for anyone who's smut-hungry/expects this to have smut because the fandom swarms with y'all: you can read the fwb relationship including sex if you choose to (I haven't stated it directly but there's a scene you can read that way), but I did not include smut scenes, as I don't write smut.

HEARTBEAT

Your relationship with the King of Dreams was never meant to be traditional. You weren’t in love, but sought warmth and affection from each other outside of a relationship. Some humans had relationships like that and even when you first thought it was weird, you soon found yourself in a relationship much like it, and with the Lord of Dreams no less.

It wasn’t love at any point, you weren’t attracted to each other. Or at least, you weren’t supposed to be attracted to each other.

But still, he felt his feelings for you growing, despite trying to stop himself. The more he touched you, more he kissed you, more he had you — every time deepened his feelings toward you.

And after it going on for centuries, he couldn’t keep it in anymore as you laid beside him, in a bedroom he made for the two of you. To be closer, to love you better. Maybe he tried to warm you up for what he was about to say.

“Become my Queen.”

You laughed at first, rolling your eyes. “Weird joke.”

He didn’t laugh, which quickly killed your own smile, and you lifted yourself up from the bed slightly. “Are you… proposing?”

He swallowed, before a ring appeared on his palm. “I want you to rule The Dreaming by my side, as my equal. As my Queen.”

You stared at him, then at the ring before you sighed. “Dream…”

He cut you off. “I will treat you with anything you want if you accept. I… I am in love with you.”

You took in a shaky breath and closed your eyes. “I… I cannot. I cannot commit to something that grand. You know that.”

He stared at you, his eyes darkening slightly as you pulled away from him, straightening your dress before you swung your legs over the edge of the bed and stared down.

“So… you will turn my offer down?” he murmured, his voice low, echoing through the bedroom walls.

You pursed your lips together. “I… I would say yes in a heartbeat if I would be able to commit to something as big what you ask of me. I do not know if you even realise how grand your proposal is. You would give the whole world and its weight on the palm of my hand, I have responsibilities too but not that kind, not in that scale. I love you too, but I… just cannot take that kind of responsibility.”

You heard the sheets shift as he came closer to you, and you felt his breath on your bare shoulder. “I would support your hand. You would learn to hold it on your own.”

You huffed. “I said no. Please just drop it.”

He was quiet when you said that, and you felt the energy shifting. He was frustrated, maybe even angry.

“You dare to turn me down?” he growled, and your head snapped to look at him.

“I am allowed to say no, for your information,” you scoffed. “You do not own me or my feelings just because we have had this relationship.”

He sat retreated from you. “You have given me every reason to believe we could be something more one day. And now… you are taking it all away from me.”

Before you could reply, you heard steps coming towards the bedroom and shut your mouth.

“My Lord? Can I have a moment? I have news about The Corinthian’s whereabouts.”

He laid one last glare at you, before he turned his head toward the door. “Yes, Lucienne. I will be with you shortly.”

And then he, without another word, left your shared bed and marched out of the room, leaving you alone, watching the moonlight illuminate your form.

And… he didn’t come back.

One hundred years had passed.

One hundred years, and the sky rumbled, welcoming someone home. Someone who had been away for a long time, someone The Dreaming had crumbled without.

You couldn’t help but rush to meet him halfway the bridge, cradling his face into your own as soon as you reached him, staring at him into his eyes before pulling back and hitting his chest hard.

“Where were you?!” you screamed, tears welling up. “I thought you would never come back! To abandon The Dreaming over me… not marrying you?”

He cocked his head and scoffed. “Do you truly think I would abandon The Dreaming, my duty, over the heartbreak you caused me?”

You blinked, surprised by his answer before you composed yourself. “Then what was so important you abandoned us for one hundred…”

He cut you off. “I was taken prisoner by mortals who wished to have my powers. Eternal youth, health and prosperity. I was able to escape only because my captors finally made a mistake.”

You frowned at his words, unable to speak for a moment. “…Who would even know how to capture you?”

He sighed. “They were trying to capture my sister, using ancient magic. Death. But something went wrong and they got me instead. But this is enough talking. I need to go after my artefacts that were stolen from me.”

He stepped away from you and quickly walked through his palace’s crumbling doorway. You stood there for a moment, before you ran after him. “Dream, wait.”

He stopped after a few more steps, bowing his head but not turning to look at you. “What is it?”

You swallowed, taking a few careful, slow steps toward him. “I… I had a lot of time to think about your proposal,” you mumbled. “And I admit, I am still not ready for marriage or taking the role of a Queen of The Dreaming, but… if we take our relationship slow, let it deepen… put more effort on it… maybe in the future I’d be willing to accept your proposal. And gradually take responsibility as a future Queen. But it would take a long time, and I can’t promise it will happen. But if you promise to be patient with me, I promise to try.”

He stood still for a moment longer, before slowly turning towards you. His eyes had softened from the hard stare he had just a moment ago. “I have had a lot of time to think about our last meeting too. And… I apologise for what I said. I should not have tried to make you feel guilt for your feelings or pressure you into marriage. I now realise it was too much to ask from me.”

You nodded at him. “Yes. You should not have said that, but I am glad you saw the error in your words.”

After another moment, you offered him another smile. “We can continue as before. And in time, we will see if it becomes more.”

He nodded, offering you a smile too. “Yes. That would be the best.”

On that day, your hearts were finally together again.

Requests are open! FANDOM LIST | PROMPT LIST(S) | RULES (READ!!!)

[edwardhartenjoyer]

can you do the "one bed" trope too please? with maybe Jiro, Towa, Alan, Lyca, and Subaru? If thats to many, feel free to take some off the list ^^

Hi Anon!! Happy to do that trope for you!

Only One Bed

You were out on a mission with some of the ghouls. It was taking a long time, though, and it was clear you'd all be staying overnight.

Some rooms are gotten, and everyone has to share a room. You choose to go with the ghoul you've been secretly crushing on, and when you get to your shared room, there's only one bed...

Featuring: Jiro | Towa | Alan | Lyca | Subaru

Jiro Kirisaki - You stared into the room in mild horror. Sure, you'd agreed to share a room with Jiro since Yuri had complained that having to share with anyone would disrupt him from his work, but this really wasn't what you had been expecting.

"You can just take the bed, I likely will not be sleeping." Jiro said from beside you, and you glanced up at him, noting the bags under his eyes that weren't related to his sickness.

"When's the last time you slept Jiro?" You asked him gently as you sat down onto the edge of the bed.

"A few days." He shrugged. "Yuri has been working on something and required my assistance."

You narrowed your eyes at him. Despite the awkwardness the situation presented, you didn't want to be the reason for Jiro missing out on yet another night of sleep.

"Sleep is good for your health." You huffed. He opened his mouth, likely to rattle off the benefits of sleeping that he was well aware of when you cut him off. "We can just..share...the bed.." you suggested.

He paused, and though his expression retained his usual emotionless look, he seemed to be considering what you suggested. Finally he nodded.

"If this is what you wish, then we can share."

You nodded and started to get ready for the night. By this point, you were used to changing while Jiro kept his back turned, so this is what you did before sliding into bed after turning away so Jiro could change too.

Jiro turned off the lights and slid into the bed next to you, lying stiffly on his side of the bed.

"Night, Jiro." You whispered.

"Goodnight, MC." He whispered back.

You closed your eyes and tried to sleep. It's a struggle and evades you. You shift around, thinking maybe you are just not able to get comfortable, but nothing helps.

Just as you're about to give up, an arm wraps around you and pulls you so your back is pressed against Jiro's chest.

"You're struggling to sleep. Does this help you?" Jiro whispered as he held you close. You tried to calm your racing heart, glad he couldn't see how red your face was in this light. You did find you were more comfortable like this though, the warmth of his body against yours calming your mind.

"Yeah.." You whispered in response, your eyes slipping closed. With the warmth of his body feeding into yours, you were soon lulled into sleep.

When morning came, you woke to find yourself still nestled in Jiro's arms. You carefully turned around in his arms and watched his face as he slept. His face was much more relaxed than it normally was, and it warmed your heart to see him looking so unguarded and open.

"Sleep well?" Jiro muttered as he began to wake, opening his eyes to look at you.

"Best sleep of my life." You admitted. A small smile cracked across his features.

"Perhaps it would be beneficial to do this again then. For your health of a proper sleep."

You blushed and hid your face against his side. "Yeah..for health..of course."

Towa Otonashi - "Okay, team! We've got two rooms, so we split into pairs to share the rooms!" Haru chirped happily as you all got to the cabin you were all sharing.

Before anyone could say anything, Towa gripped your arm. "Dandelion shares with me ~"

You didn't really have any objections to this, so you followed Towa to your shared room. When he opened the door, though, you paused in the doorway. There was only one bed.

Towa spun and grinned at you. "Dandelion! We get to share a bed!~" he hummed happily, beaming with delight.

You blushed at the idea of sharing with him, but you didn't really have any objections to it. You were exhausted, and you weren't going to make him sleep elsewhere because that would have just been mean.

You slipped away into the washroom to get changed, and when you came out, Towa was already sitting in the bed waiting for you.

"Dandelion!~" He called, beconing you over. You smiled and crawled into the bed. He instantly wrapped his arms around you and held you close, resting his head against your chest. "Sleepy cuddles okay, Dandelion?" He asked

You blushed and nodded, running a hand through his hair, shocked at how silky soft it was. "Yeah, this is okay."

He hummed happily and nestled closer to you, closing his eyes. You kept petting his hair until you slipped off to sleep.

When morning came, you cracked open your eyes to see Towa hovering aboe you, face inches from yours. A deep blush crossed your features. "~~~~" he hummed happily, beaming at you.

"Morning, Towa." You replied softly. He grinned and leaned in to kiss your cheek before leaping out of bed to start the day. You stared after him, a happy grin slowly spreading across your face.

If this mission took a few days, you definitely wouldn't complain.

Alan Mido - You chose to share a room with Alan. You ignored Leo's mocking as you walked off after Alan, though, when you reached the room, you nearly smacked into Alan who had frozen in the doorway.

You peered past him and saw what had made him pause. There was only one bed in the room.

"I'll just go share with Bandana and Leo." Alan muttered, turning to leave. You reached out a hand to stop him.

"Odds are their room only has one bed too, and three people sharing would just be awkward. We can just share this one." You suggested, even though your cheeks heated up at the idea.

"I don't want to hurt you." Alan replied immediately, a look of concern crossing his features.

"You won't hurt me. I promise." You assured. He still seemed hesitant, so you gently took his hand and pulled him into the room, shutting the door behind the two of you.

His shoulders slumped a bit as he gave in, though he was still clearly worried about hurting you.

You slipped off into the bathroom and got changed, slipping into bed when you were done. Alan did the same, slipping into his side of the bed, far from you as he could get.

You whispered a goodnight to him, and slipped off to sleep pretty easily.

When you woke in the morning, you were surprised to find yourself wrapped up in Alan's arms. He held you close, a protective pose as he curled around you.

You blushed and relaxed into his arms, relishing in his warmth. You knew when he woke up he'd leap away, apologizing for his actions before checking to make sure you weren't hurt. But you were happy to just enjoy the moment and see how relaxed and peaceful Alan looked.

You hoped that later, once you assured him you were fine, he'd agree to doing this again.

Lyca Colt - "That dumb Gigalo can't even get a room with two beds." Lyca huffed as he followed you into the room you'd agreed to share with him.

"Well, I'm really glad now I chose to room with you. Otherwise, I would have had to figure out how to share a bed with Rui without him accidentally killing me or have to share with Ed." You joked, trying to lighten the werewolf's mood.

Lyca glanced at you, his faze narrowing at the mention of his two housemates. "No way, I'm not letting you share with those creeps!" He pouted.

"Don't worry, you're my first choice to share a bed with." You admitted before blushing darkly at your own confession.

He didn't seem to catch onto it, though, as he stalked forward to flop onto the bed beforing eyeing you. "You coming?"

"Just let me get changed first." You called, going off to get changed. You came back when you were done and flopped down next to him.

He suddenly seemed awkward, like he was unsure what to do. "So..now what?" He finally asked.

"Now we sleep." You replied. "If you want to sleep on your side of the bed, you can... I'd be okay with cuddling, though.." you explained, whispering the last part.

He still heard you, though, and he blushed a bit before shifting closer to you, wrapping his arms around you. "This okay?" He asked, and you nodded in response. You wrapped your arms around him in turn and settled in. Sleep soon overtook you both.

When you woke in the morning, Lyca was still nestled close to you, using your chest as a pillow. You smiled and ran a hand through his hair gently. He leaned into your touch, cracking an eye open.

"Can we stay here, like this for a while?" He asked, voice husky with sleep.

"Yeah, let's stay here." You replied, content and happy.

Subaru kagami - "Ah, this is, not an ideal situation.." Subaru lamented as you followed him into the room. You were confused until you saw past him to the only bed in the room.

"Oh.." you mumbled. You had a massive crush on Subaru, but the sudden thought of being made to share a bed with him filled you with nerves.

He turned to you and bowed in apology. "Take the bed, MC, I'll sleep down on the floor."

You frowned. "No, that would be way too uncomfortable for you. We can just share." You suggested.

"I couldn't ask that of you."

"Please, Subaru. I wouldn't be able to sleep otherwise, knowing you were uncomfortable because of me." You pleaded, and he relented.

When you both slipped into bed, you stayed on opposite sides. You fell asleep quickly, but Subaru stayed awake to watch you.

He hadn't known there would be only one bed, but he was pleased with the outcome. It meant a chance to share with you in what he hoped was only the first night of getting to sleep in the same bed. After this, he selfishly hoped you'd want to do this again.

He carefully slid closer to you and wrapped his arms around you, mindful to not do anything to set off his stigma. Not yet. He'd rather those thoughts were freely given.

As he held you in his arms, he finally began to drift off, content, and hopeful for the future.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Tag list: @cloudcountry @ash0-0ley @ventisimpilysm @tinumaru

Wanna be added or removed? Let me know!

[xxxskipsgooner420xxx]

!SMUT! (Realized) Skips Shadley x Reader

One of my mutuals requested I write a smut fanfic of realized skips being edged so here you go😈 (SPOILERS FOR REALIZED SKIPS AND HIS CAREER)

To be specific it is while he’s doing spotlight duty at the theatre and reader edges him during an intermission and leaves him desperate before he goes back to doing his duty

Skips always loved asking you to come to the theatre to watch the plays he does spotlighting for. He always pushes through the crowd to find you because he thinks you’re the real show.

It was another day where you were at the theatre because Skips asked you to. How could you ever say no to him anyway? The last intermission had started so people could do stage prepping for a new scene with a different setting. Skips exited the followspot booth and looked around for you. He found you in the usual spot you wait in for him. Skips snaked his arm around your waist and pulled you closer.

“My penumbra.” He mumbled into your neck as he wrapped his other arm around you. Skips seemed more clingy than usual today… and you could’ve sworn you felt something poking against your thigh. You reciprocated his affection and pulled him close as well. He bit his bottom lip from your touch.

“My umbra.” You said in response with a smile. He lifted his face up out of your neck. His cheeks were red and flushed, the rosiness spreading to his ears that were hidden away underneath his jet black hair.

“Um… can- can you help me with something?” Skips sheepishly asked with a nervous chuckle. You brought your hand up to his rosy cheek and felt how warm he was.

“Yes of course, but are you okay? You’re… warmer than usual.” You pointed out with deep concern in your voice. Sure his face was warm, but so was his groin… Skips’ breath hitched.

“Well, I uh…” Skips looked around to make sure no one could hear. He said quietly into your ear.

“I just need some relief. Please, can you help me?” He pleaded with a desperate look in his eyes. You knew exactly what was happening. A smirk crept onto your face.

“Come on.” You said before you pried his arms off you and grabbing his hand. You dragged him to a random storage closet since you know the bathrooms would be too crowded. You shut the door behind him and locked it. It was hard to see because of how dark it is, but there was a bit of light that leaked in through the slim translucent window on the door. Skips was already palming himself through his pants, which didn’t go unnoticed. You removed his hand and started to unbutton and unzip his pants.

“F-fuck… penumbra-“ Skips whimpered out as he rested his forehead on your shoulder. You haven’t even done anything yet, but he was already squirming and panting. It was quite the sight to see. You slipped your hand into his boxers and slowly teased him by gently rubbing his cock. He bucked his hips forward and put his hand over yours, pushing your hand down on his cock. He was too desperate at the moment for teasing. You just complied and tightened your grip around his member and started to slowly jerk him off. He let out a soft moan and started to breathe heavier.

“Faster… please.” Skips whined out. His hand travelled to your waist and his grip tightened. You fulfilled his request and moved your hand faster. He looked up at you and leaned in, hungrily kissing you as you continued to jerk him off. It didn’t take long for him to feel like he was already close to having an orgasm. He pulled away from the kiss

“Ngh~ (y/n)… I-I’m gonna-“ Skips struggled to finish his sentence, but you knew exactly what he was trying to say. You stopped moving your hand to edge him.

“Ah ah, we don’t want you making a mess, do we?” You teased him with a sinister smirk on your lips. Skips panted heavily and desperately thrusted into your hand.

“Cmon (y/n)… please, it’s fine. I swear…” Skips protested, his cock throbbing from wanting more of your touch. You planted another kiss on his lips.

“Wouldn’t that be impolite of us to make a mess in public? I think you’re just gonna have to wait.” You teased him with a smile evident in your voice. He scoffed buried his red face in your shoulder.

“Ugh- fine.” He mumbled grumpily. You removed your hand from his boxers and zipped up his pants for him. He was still extremely horny and desperate, but he knew the intermission was going to end soon anyway.

You grabbed his hand again and led him back to the auditorium. Before you went back to your seat, you pulled him in for another hug and kiss. You purposefully brushed up against his crotch to tease him.

“Good luck~” you taunted him after you pecked his cheek. Skips looked away with an intense blush on his cheeks.

“Gee, thanks.” Skips replied sarcastically. There was no way he could focus now. His cock was still throbbing in his pants, desperate for some relief. He headed back up to the followspot booth before the play started again. He had to keep adjusting his pants as he walked because they felt so tight now from his erection.

As the show went on, he couldn’t even focus because all he could think about was you and what activities he’ll partake in with you once you both got home. All these thoughts running through his mind caused him to be clumsy and off time with his spotlighting.

[her-mortal-projections]

something to show that you're mine

S4!Steve x fem!reader (18+)

This is a continuation of 'hot for you,' but can be read as a standalone

You dramatically collapse on the couch next to Steve, with a huff. He smiles, playfully rolling his eyes while sliding his arm around you. The worst heatwave to hit Hawkins in thirty years has thoroughly worn you out. Although you did spend most of the day in the pool, your time didn't solely consist of lounging on a float. Steve was proving to be insatiable, seemingly needing to make up for lost time.

It's exhilarating feeling so desirable, as a simple glance from him is never just that. There's always an underlying need hidden in his warm, inviting eyes. It's actually been there the whole time, you just didn't notice it until now.

You curl into him, your eyes briefly closing as you bury your face in his old t shirt. You smile into the worn cotton, as he still smells like sunscreen and some expensive cologne you can't place. The biggest lovesick smile then spreads across his lips as you nuzzle into his chest. He's glad you can't see it because he knows you'd tease him about it all night.

"So, what do you wanna do tonight?" He asks, gliding his fingertips down the side of your arm.

"Stay just like this," you reply, snuggling closer to him.

His heart melts at your response. He holds you closer, leaning forward to press a kiss to the top of your head.

"But we have to eat at some point..." he reminds while you sigh.

"I'm open to suggestions," you say, lifting your head to meet his soft gaze.

"Well, we still have some movies left over from last night, so how about I order us a pizza and we can have a little movie marathon?" He offers, with his hand gently cupping your cheek.

"I like that idea," you smile, leaning into his touch.

"I thought you might," he smiles in return before kissing you sweetly.

"Can you order it now?" You ask, abruptly breaking the kiss. "Because I'm starving."

"Absolutely," he replies, giving you another peck on the lips before getting off the couch.

-

A large, empty pizza box and Diet Coke cans cover the coffee table as the second movie in your marathon plays on the big screen TV. It goes unnoticed as soon as it begins, when Steve pulls you into his lap. The skirt of your floral dress bunches at your waist as you grind your clothed core against the strained bulge in his shorts.

You take turns panting into each other's mouths as each kiss is more desperate than the last. He whimpers when your lips leave his, with you trailing kisses along his jaw to his neck. He sounds so pretty as you try to kiss as many freckles as you can. An idea then pops into your head, making you smile against his skin.

"Remember earlier today, when you said I should wear your initial on my necklace?" You ask, nuzzling your nose right under his strong jawline.

"Yeah," he shakily replies, with his hands dropping to your hips.

"Well if I have something to show I'm yours, what will you have to show that you're mine?" You continue, as he curses under his breath.

"What do you ha- oh, fuck..." he breathes when he feels you suckling on his skin.

He tightens his grip on your hips, and moves his upward. Getting this reaction makes you feel so powerful, knowing the hottest guy in town is whimpering just for you. You pull away to admire your work before glancing up at him. His hand instantly cradles your jaw, guiding you in for a heated kiss. It's almost sloppy with how desperate he is to feel your lips on his.

"Honey," he breathily begins against your lips, "I need to be inside you when you do that."

"That really turns you on that much?" You ask, teasingly.

"Yeah, can't you feel it?" He counters, raising his hips again and causing you to gasp. "That's what you do to me... fuck, I want you so bad..."

"Lets go upstairs then-"

"No," he interrupts, "I wanna stay right here. Want you to ride me."

"Really? On your parents ridiculously expensive couch?" You question, grinding down again, earning another whine from him.

He nods. "Been wanting to fuck you on it since the first night you came over."

He pulls you in for another kiss. It's so rough and passionate, it has you dizzy with lust.

"You wore that blue skirt..." he continues, between softer kisses.

"The denim one?" You ask, remembering the exact outfit you wore but wanting to hear more.

"Yeah, that one," he smiles. "It made your ass look incredible... I wanted to tear it off you..."

"I wish you would've," you whisper into a kiss.

"Wasn't the right time. Wanted to be a gentleman," he replies, nuzzling his nose against yours.

"One of your many redeeming qualities," you breathe, with your lips curling into a smile.

He laughs under his breath before kissing you again.

"Lift those gorgeous hips for me, angel," he purrs.

You eagerly comply, lifting up just enough for him to pull his shorts down. You quickly realize he isn't wearing any underwear and whine when he pulls you back onto his lap. He captures your lips for another kiss as he moves your panties to the side. You instinctively raise your hips again, helping him ease inside you. You gasp into his mouth as you lower yourself onto him.

Despite having had sex with him a few times, you weren't used to the stretch just yet. Once you feel how deep he is, pleasure soon takes over. You start to rock your hips back and forth when he stops you.

"I'll do all the work, angel," he smiles. "You just focus on making me yours."

His words have you blushing for the first time that night as you nod your head. He rewards you by kissing you deeply before slowly thrusting up, into you. You sigh into his kiss relishing in how you're making one of his fantasies come true.

The burning in your lungs makes you pull away and turn your attention back to his neck. The thought of giving him multiple hickies actually has you salivating. Not to mention him going out in public with them on display for everyone to see. Your arousal grows as you feel him twitch while pressing tantalizing kisses to his golden skin.

Pretty whimpers and whines fall from his lips as you leave several marks of your affection. You watch how his Adam's apple bobs when he tries to keep from moaning too loud.

"Its okay," you soothe, with your face still buried in his neck. "I want to hear how I make you feel."

He breathily curses again before throwing his head back, against the couch.

"Fuck, this is so hot... you're so hot..." he pants, his hands squeezing your hips.

This new angle gives you better access to the column of his throat, and you instantly take advantage. You lick and kiss your way up to his jaw while he shifts underneath you. With a whine of his name, you lay your head on his shoulder and lazily kiss his newly bruised skin. He wraps his arms around you, holding you tightly as roughly thrusts into you.

The obscene sounds of skin on skin echo in your ears before you hear his gutteral moan as he uncomfortably squeezes your body against his. After you each catch your breath, he tenderly runs his fingers through your hair, while still holding you to his chest.

"Wanna go upstairs now?" He softly asks, prompting you to raise your head.

You meet his equally soft gaze and smile.

"Yeah," you reply, while leaning in to kiss him.

-

The shrill beeping of his alarm clock wakes you from possibly the best sleep of your life. You groan while Steve reaches over and shuts it off.

"Why did you set the alarm?" You sleepily ask as he snuggles closer to you.

"Because I switched shifts with Rob so I have to open the store," he explains, before pressing kisses to the nape of your neck. "I meant to tell you last night, but forgot. Sorry, honey."

"Its okay," you reply, while turning to face him. "I just wanted to spend the day with you... again."

He smiles, moving closer to nuzzle his nose against yours.

"You can totally come see me and we can go to lunch or something," he suggests as your hand cradles his face.

"We'd just end up having a quickie in your backseat," you say with a laugh.

"Not necessarily," he defends. "I can behave myself until we're back in the privacy of my house..."

"Oh, can you?" You tease.

"Yeah," he smiles, his lips brushing yours. "I'll show you how good I can be."

"Promises, promises..." you also smile, before he kisses you.

-

Hours later and after a stop by your place, you stroll through the door of Family Video. You're still humming the last song you heard on the radio as you approach the counter. Steve immediately looks up to see you standing in front of him and smiles.

"Hey gorgeous," he greets, pressing his body against the counter.

"Hi," you reply, smiling in return.

"I was starting to think you weren't gonna show," he adds, while you lean closer to him.

"Like I would miss an opportunity to have lunch with Steve Harrington..." you say with a laugh.

"Didn't know I was that important," he breathes, as your fingers curl along the edge of his green vest.

"I'm so sure," you say, before pulling him into a kiss.

You intended for it to be brief, but he reaches out and holds you in place before you can pull away. He slips his tongue past your lips, moaning lowly as he deepens the kiss. Your grip on his vest tightens as you temporarily forget you're shamelessly making out in the middle of a video store.

"I missed you," he whispers, after breaking the kiss.

"Obviously," you remark, unable to keep from smiling.

He sighs before cupping your cheek. "You're so annoying, you know that?"

"Only because I enjoy it so much," you reply, gazing into his eyes.

"I'll have to do something about that later," he begins, sultrily, "but right now, we have a lunch date."

"Yes we do," you smile.

He leans in to give you one more kiss before stepping out from behind the counter. He's able to see the rest of your outfit, as he follows you to the door and bites his lip when he sees you're wearing his favorite skirt. He resists the urge to put his hands on you, knowing he'll get to have you in a matter of hours.

Once outside, he starts to walk towards his car but you stop him, telling him you're taking him to lunch, not the other way around. He smiles, a familiar warmth spreading through him as he slides into your passenger seat. You drive to the diner down the street, remembering its one of his favorite spots left in town.

It's when you're seated across from him in a booth that you notice the little, purple hickies on his neck. He notices how your cheeks seem a little rosier as you struggle to maintain eye contact with him. He silently revels in the memory of you in his lap the night before. He's eager to make more of them with you later that night.

-

After driving back to the store, Steve leans on your center console, and caresses your cheek in an attempt to get you to look at him. You turn towards him, as his index finger traces along your jaw.

"I'm glad you came today. I wasn't sure I'd be able to make it a whole day without seeing you," he then softly admits.

"I'm sure you would've survived," you reply, as he moves closer.

"I don't know, I've been pretty spoiled by spending so much time with you lately, that I don't think my heart could've handled it," he continues, nuzzling his nose against yours.

"I didn't know I was that important," you breathe, with your fingers brushing the back of his neck.

He smiles. "You are, honey, very much so."

He then reaches into his pocket and pulls out his keys. You watch as he takes his house key off the keyring and holds it up.

"I want you waiting at home for me," he adds, placing the key in your hand.

You just blink at him for a moment until you close your hand around it. He leans in again, with his hand cradling your face before kissing you deeply. You feel yourself melting into his touch, only ever feeling this way when you're with him.

"See you tonight, gorgeous," he breathes against your lips, before getting out of the car.

You watch as he goes inside, then look at his house key laying on your palm. You close your hand around it again, smiling to yourself, before dropping it into your cup holder. You then start the car and shift into reverse, while trying to decide where you want to be waiting when he comes home.

[macarxncito]

Thoughts on Scars (ALNST)

I was up tweaking until like 3am waiting for the translations for this comic to finally drop so now I just got to get my thoughts down lmao

As always this isn't meant to be a super deep analysis, just somewhere for me to lay out my personal thoughts and opinions and analyses

TW: self-harm and other trauma-related responses

~~~

The way that this is drawn out gives the idea that Till was reluctant to leave Ivan's body and had to be physically dragged away from it... vivimeng do you want me to jump

~~~

IVAN BEING THE FIRST THING THAT TILL SEES WHEN HE WAKES UP EUGH

But there's also a really interesting contradiction happening here, Till says that Ivan's the person he doesn't want to see and yet he's the one that's actively imagining him being there :O

~~~

Welcome to the unreliable narrator club, Till!!!!!!!

This fucks me up so bad bro omg </3 we know Ivan would never say anything like that to Till, we know he would never look at him with that sneer, and yet this is how Till imagines he would </3

This Ivan is a manifestation of Till’s grief and guilt

~~~

The fact that Ivan wholeheartedly believed Till would never see him, would never even spare him a glance, and yet here we see that after he's gone Till is unable to look away from him for days at a time

Sickening </3

~~~

Oh they make me so sick

This kiss is very obviously a reflection of Till's survivor's guilt, grief, and trauma. The way that Till doesn't actively initiate it and yet doesn't exactly fight back against it and kinda just lets it happen gives me the idea that he views this trauma as some kind of punishment that he deserves

Interestingly to me though is that despite both this kiss and the one from round 6 appearing forced, this Ivan that Till sees in his mind still asks for consent here :O

~~~

This was a very important part of the comic to me

Before this comic dropped I assumed Till became mute because of the injuries to his throat, and while I'm sure that's still part of the case (no way in hell are his vocal chords completely unscathed after getting shot in the neck) this shows that his mutism is also partly caused by his trauma :O

As someone who's selectively mute myself I find this bittersweet and conflicting because on one hand I see a lot of myself in Till and this makes me relate to him even more but at the same time I feel a lot of sympathy for him and his tragedy </3

His trauma weighs down on him so deeply to the point of silencing him

~~~

Here's a scene that I want to give a few clarifications for

Yes, Till is shown to be speaking here but I still think he's more-or-less entirely mute (shown through his speech bubbles being completely black and the fact that he's only shown speaking to his imaginary Ivan)

I also don't think this is an Ivan ghost per-se but rather a hallucination or otherwise only existing in Till's imagination

As for this, I fear the Ivan-assaulted-Till believers are going to run with this </3 I don't know Korean but I've spoken to a few people who say that the translations for this comic are a bit wonky here and there and that this particular dialogue translates closer to "it's touching to be thinking of the old times" or something along those lines

~~~

OH I'M GONNA BE SICK

I think this is Till finally acknowledging the feelings he's had for Ivan all along and feeling the guilt of not having been able to tell him sooner </3

And this is also the first instance we see of Till's self-harm

Before this I believed that the scars on Till's neck came from him being shot there or perhaps the removal of his brand but now we see that they were self-induced </3 the "here we go again" is especially heartbreaking to me

~~~

This moment is soooooo important to me

IvanTill's whole thing is that they're doomed by miscommunication, that perhaps their love could've bloomed if only they'd had the time to understand each other, and it appears to me that that's finally happening now after it's already too late

The surprise on Till's (and Ivan’s) face, the red in his pupil (and I think it's worth pointing out that the red pupils in both Ivan and Till are the only color in the entire comic)

It's sooooo tragic and I know there's no happy ending to this story but it gives me hope that we'll at least finish to see Ivan and Till finally understand each other (or at least Till understanding Ivan) and Till finally being able to accept and acknowledge his feelings and leave his past behind <3

[fourkisses]

shotgun wedding! ⚭

a mv33 one shot where. . .

max is driving, you're sitting shotgun, and lando tries to wed you two in case you don't escape the police who's chasing after you.

pairing: mech eng!max verstappen x fem!mech eng!reader

(bonus law student!lando norris x chemist!oscar piastri) (sort of)

my four cents: i just finished watching motorheads. this is me still hungover from the series :,)

kindly keep in mind: this is purely fictional as it is an au! (if it's not already obvious wink). the actions of the characters does not reflect their real-world counterparts!

thank u & enjoy ! :)

“I mean, I'm a future lawyer, and that's close to a judge—wait, I'm even close to the judge, so I could technically marry you two,” Lando suggests.

“The fuck you mean? You can't even pass Torts, and it's just Torts,” Max, who's driving besides you through the darkness of the night, complains.

“Are you fucking serious about this?” you turn back to Lando.

“I'm so serious, you guys. We can then have Osc as our witness.”

“What witness? Are we about to do another crime?” Oscar cluelessly chimes in the conversation.

“Great. We got a law student who can't defend for his life for fuck's sake, a chemist who has sniffed more than enough fumes of God knows what, and two mechanical engineers trying to get through a fucking car heist. Sure, it's the perfect time for a wedding.”

“Well. . . isn't it?” you respond. “If we're gonna get caught tonight, might as well be Mr. and Mrs. in those criminal documents, you feel me?”

“Uh, not officially?” Max reasons out. Really, schatz?

“We are being chased by the police right now and you're still concerned with due process?”

Max chuckles with your quick-witted response. “Fair point.”

“So, what? We're gonna green light plan B?” Lando asks, even though he's totally still going to do it without both of your approval.

Max shrugs. “Give it your best shot, Attorney.”

“Fuck, yes!” he punches the air. “I say shotgun wedding!”

Oscar tries to correct him. “I don't think that's what you call this, Lan.”

“Why? Max is driving, she's riding shotgun, and they're gonna get married right now! It fits perfectly.”

The Australian can do nothing but bury his face in his palms as a response.

“Okay,” Lando says, now kneeling on the floor of the car, trying to squeeze himself between your and Max's seat. “By the power vested in me, I now pronounce you: man and wife. You may now kiss the bride."

“That's all?!” the Aussie exclaimed.

“What? That's what they only show in the movies! How am I supposed to know the whole shebang?”

“You could've at least had us say I do,” your boyfriend says, tone coming off as unamused.

“Okay, then,” Lando waves his hand at Max, gesturing him to say something.

Max looks at him, eyebrows furrowing. “What?”

“Say ‘I do’? Fucking hell, man! Don't you do?”

“You are so not going to officiate my wedding,” Oscar says, more like a promise to himself than a response to Lando.

“Duh? Of course? How can I officiate and be the groom at the same time?” Lando whispers to himself.

“What'd you say?”

“Huh? What? Nothing!” Lando defends. He shifts his attention at the two of you, whom he notes still haven't kissed yet. “Oh my goodness, just kiss already!”

“I'm driving, fish head. If it's not already obvious.”

“Ugh,” Lando pulls himself out of the space between you and Max and moves to the far left of the car. “Scoot over.”

He bends over Max's car seat and grabs the steering wheel from his grip.

Your boyfriend unofficial husband shifts in his seat so he can face towards you.

"Hi husband," you smile at him.

"Hi wife," Max replies.

He leans over and you both continue your salutations using only your lips.

"Wait, wait. You guys! You don't have a ring!"

You pull away from the kiss and turn your head back to Oscar who's balaclava is now sitting around his neck. Max returns to driving and Lando goes back to his seat.

"Oh yeah, you're right,” you fake frown. “Too bad we only have these souvenirs," you say, raising your left hand. Four car keys dangle off of your ring finger.

"Wait . . . what?" Oscar's eyes widen at the sight of it.

"Oh, you think we were going to steal the entirety of Wolff's car collection tonight?" Max asks.

Lando responds to his question, getting back at the Dutch. “That's why we're here, big head. If it's not already obvious.”

“Ha ha. Funny, Lando.”

"It's already done, boys. These keys in my hands are the only cars left in there," you interject.

"Huh? Wh—so why didn't we get them?" Oscar's tone is laced with confusion.

Lando joins in on the interrogation. "Yeah, and where's the rest of it?"

"We're gonna get those four later. We gotta lead these police cars to Christian Horner's shipment container in the dock first," Max says.

"Where the cars may or may not be in," you add, a smile escaping from your lips. You would've done a witchy, villanous laugh right here right now if it weren't so not normal. But then again, you're in a car heist with your boyfriend—no—unofficial husband, your unofficial officiant, and your witness, which is far from normal. Guess that's how your life had always been.

"Oh my God," Oscar exclaims, piecing the puzzle pieces together. "Oh, fuck. Okay. I get it now. It's the perfect set-up!”

You nod even though he can barely see your head from back there.

“This was never a car heist; it's a revenge plan to get back at the boss!"

“Ex-boss,” Max corrects him.

The Brit has quickly got onto what Oscar was trying to say. He nods slowly, realizing something. "And this is the perfect distraction for us to get the four remaining cars back in the garage.”

"Attaboys!" you exclaim.

“Fucking smartasses. You two. You're perfect for each other,” Lando quips, shaking his head. In disbelief or amazement, you're not sure.

You look at Max and he meets your gaze. He takes your hand from the center console and brings it close to his lips for a quick kiss.

Your lips stretch into a smile at the gesture.

“Wait,” Oscar's voice, ever-curious, cuts through this moment between you and your unofficial husband. “Toto has like, fifteen cars in his collection, and you say only four are left back there, right?”

“Yup,” the p popping from your lips as you say it.

“Then how did you manage to drive all of his cars last night? I don't think you did it all on your own, given that it would be dangerous going back in the garage multiple times and seeing as you now didn't get caught at all.”

You chuckle as you recall the actual heist that happened last night. “Well, we got a little bit of help.”

“From who?” Lando interjects.

Max answers the question for you. “The guys. Danny, Yuki, Alex, Liam, Pierre, Checo. They were more than willing to help when I told them the plan.”

“Woah,” is all Lando could say. Oscar, on the other hand, is at a loss for words.

The police sirens grow louder and louder as you approach the dock. Max steps harder on the gas.

“Guys, I have another question,” Oscar interrupts.

“Of course you do,” the word of drags longer than it should be from Lando's mouth.

Oscar whips his head to look at the Brit, sending dagger eyes at his direction. The latter immediately shoots both his hands up. “It's a compliment, okay!”

The Aussie raises a middle finger to Lando before turning back his head to face you.

“As I was asking, how will we convince the police we're not the ones driving this car? They'll surely know we're trying to set up Christian once they get ahold of us. I mean, what's our alibi?”

“Don't worry, Osc. Lewis got that one covered,” Max reassures the Australian in the backseat as he drives the car inside the shipment container.

“Yeah, and if worse comes to worse, we can always say we got married tonight. You're our witness, right?” You wink at him from the rearview mirror before opening the car door.

As soon as you got out, you hastily slam the doors of the Koenigsegg Gemera, leaving it inside the shipment container. You run to another car a few containers behind, one less flashy and situated closer to the main street.

The sound of the sirens, the whir of the helicopter, and chatter that's going on back there gets cut off once you shut the front door of Carlos' trusty old Golf close.

Max inserts the key and twists it, and the car replies with a roar. He starts to rev the engine to life, the hum of this sleeper a sweet sound in your ear.

You turn to the pair at the backseat and tosses them each a car key which they catch on time.

“Now, who's ready for the real heist?”

[writingwithfolklore]

How to Read and Analyze Writing Critically

Reading critically, much like thinking critically, is a skill you learn and develop—not something that you’re born with. All those English classes about blue curtains and the symbolism in Shakespeare (that we made fun of) are about teaching this skill. It’s the difference between rating a book one star because you felt tense and uncomfortable over the conflict, and rating it one star because it wasn’t built with tact or intention.

The very first thing you need to know about reading critically is this:

Everything you read is written with intention.

And

Even if it wasn’t intentional, all writing contains political implications anyway and it’s the author’s job to be able to see those implications.

Which means, in turn, if you’re a writer, you are responsible for the implications of your work whether you meant it that way or not.

This is a good thing! This is how we hold people accountable for bigoted or otherwise biased work, and how we can make positive changes to our work when someone else points out something we didn’t see. The point is in the trying, and the constant improving, and the best way to improve is to start here: by learning how to read (yours and others) work critically.

Like and Dislike:

Most people, when starting out in reading and media analysis, start with this question: do I like it or not?

But in true analysis—when we’re trying to recognize what a piece of work is attempting to do—whether or not you like the work isn’t a very helpful question to answer on its own. What you really want to be asking is: why?

Why was the decision made? Why do you like/dislike it?

Our likes and dislikes are good indicators of our intuition. If something makes you feel itchy or wrong, it’s not enough in analysis to then say, “this is bad because it made me feel uncomfortable." You need to then ask, “why does this make me feel uncomfortable?” Because maybe the answer is, “because the protagonist is being treated like a stereotype. Thus, this piece of writing is biased.” There’s a basis for true critique there. If the answer is, “because my personal experiences make me uncomfortable with sibling rivalry.” Your feelings are certainly valid, but they aren’t a basis for critique of the work itself (unless the author claimed the work was perfect for people with your specific personal experience).

Do you see the difference? Likes and dislikes are important, but they are only one step in the broader question.

Consider word choice

Everything is written with intention, which means the very words the author uses are chosen with precise care to elicit a specific feeling or experience within the reader.

For example, maybe you read a passage and it makes you feel a little gross—dig into the word choices here, maybe they used a word like “moist”. Many people make the mistake of then saying: “this passage was so gross, who even says moist?” without considering that this was a very intentional decision to make you squirm—this passage was meant to illicit that feeling.

When a piece does exactly what it’s set out to do, and contains the messages it has intended to make, it has done a good job as a piece of writing. You can still critique a work like this, however, and it is very important to do so. For example, what if the author set out to create a message that was politically incorrect? Or what if they intended their word choice to bully a certain experience or person?

That’s level two analysis—it’s taking the work outside of itself and into our current and historical world. So you can say, “this work’s word choices intentionally dehumanizes women, which reflects the author’s political standpoint. A work like this is problematic for a countless number of social, historical, and political reasons.”

This is an important step, especially when we’re considering works from the past. We can acknowledge the things that these works did well, while also bringing it into the present day to analyze its political messages.

However! This is also a tricky step, because what if that work that dehumanizes women is, in itself, a critique on thinking patterns present in a patriarchal system?

We’d have to look into the time the work came out, the history and views of the author, whether it was claimed that this work was a critique or satire, and if, in that case, it achieves its job in being a critique (usually found in the theme/ending of the overall work—like if the protagonist who dehumanizes women gets speared to death at the end or something).

True analysis takes work and research like this, and there’s never really any one correct answer. Some will argue that a work knows its own message and is thus critiquing itself, whereas others may argue it doesn’t. What’s important is that you’re as informed as you can be on a work, and your stance is backed by this research and knowledge.

It’s okay to admonish a “good” work for an unclear message or intention. It’s okay to admonish a “good” work from the past that has problematic messaging. These stances are up to you.

So how does this apply to your own work?

The more analysis and critical reading you do, the more you’ll be able to pick out in all works—including your own. Being able to see how killing off a certain character at the end changes the theme of your work, or carries an implicit message about people like that character, is incredibly important to writing with intention, and making sure you’re saying what you want to say.

It takes practice, time, and knowledge about our political and social world today. Stay informed, keep analyzing old and new works, and be open to second opinions and diverse perspectives that may point out messaging in your works you hadn’t considered.

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

(Psst... Did you know I launched a website?)

Head on over to www.gatesannai.com (or click here!) for exclusive blog posts, updates on my work, and pictures of my dog.

While you're there, consider signing up for my newsletter too :-)

[chefs-other-corner]

Don't Look At Me Like That

☆Paring: Zoey x Mira x Rumi

☆Tags: angst angst and more angst

☆Sum Sum: Just a Zoey not being well and crashing out

☆Word count: 0.7k ☆Note: Just wanted to write angst cause Zoey's is my favorite character

────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ────── The kitchen is quiet.

Too quiet.

Which means Zoey’s thoughts are screaming again.

She’s standing over a bowl of soggy cereal like it’s an anchor. She hasn’t touched it. Doesn’t plan to. Her phone buzzes—ignored. The fridge hums. Her spoon taps glass over and over, like it’s trying to shake her out of whatever this is.

Then footsteps. Two sets. Familiar.

Fuck.

“Zo?” Rumi’s voice is soft, too soft, and Zoey’s skin starts crawling.

She doesn’t answer.

“You okay?” Mira now. Blunt. Suspicious.

Still no answer.

Mira walks into view, scans the disaster that is Zoey—smeared eyeliner, unwashed hoodie, her knee bouncing like a motor. “You haven’t slept, have you?”

Zoey doesn’t look up. “Don’t need to. I’m running on vibes and spite.”

“You look like shit.”

“Then stop looking.”

Mira raises a brow. “Nice.”

Rumi approaches slower. “Zoey, seriously. Have you eaten?”

“I’m eating right now,” Zoey says flatly, gesturing at the bowl.

“That’s soup.”

“It’s cereal.”

“It looks like death.”

Zoey shrugs. “Matches the chef.”

That’s when Mira sighs, real loud, real pointed. “Okay. Cut the act. What’s actually going on with you?”

Zoey slams the spoon down. “Oh my god, you too?!”

Rumi blinks. “We just want—”

“To help? Yeah. Heard it. Felt it. Didn’t ask.”

“You’ve been shutting down all week, Zoey. We’re allowed to notice.”

Zoey’s head snaps toward Mira. “Yeah? Well maybe next time just shut the fuck up instead.”

“Oh that’s rich.”

“No, what’s rich is you acting like this isn’t your favorite part!” Zoey yells. “Getting to play the responsible one while I spiral. You love this.”

Mira’s eyes narrow. “Fuck off.”

“No! Fuck you! You don’t care about helping, you care about being right!”

“I care about you not dying!”

“Oh wow, what a fucking sacrifice,” Zoey hisses. “Carrying poor broken Zoey like some goddamn charity case—must be exhausting.”

“You think I pity you?”

“I think you hate me! And I don’t blame you! I fucking hate me too!”

The words hit the room like a bomb.

Mira stares at her. Rumi goes still.

Zoey’s eyes are wild. Her hands shake as she yells, breath catching between every syllable like it costs her something to speak.

“You think I don’t know I’m a burden? You think I don’t know I’m a fucking mess? That every time I walk in the room you’re bracing yourselves?”

“Zoey—” Rumi tries.

“NO!” Zoey screams. “Don’t do that voice! Don’t do that sad, gentle fucking voice like I’m a dog you have to coax out of the corner!”

She’s sobbing now, but it doesn’t soften her. It scalds.

“You wanna know why I don’t talk? Because every time I do, it hurts more. Because you’ll either leave or stay out of guilt and I don’t know which one is worse!”

Mira opens her mouth.

Zoey cuts her off.

“Shut up. Just shut the fuck up! Let me say it so you don’t have to.”

Her voice drops into something ragged. Barely human.

“I am selfish. I am exhausting. I’m a fucking anchor and you’re both dragging me like I’m worth something and I’m not. I’m not. I’m not.”

Rumi looks like she’s going to cry.

Zoey sees it.

And breaks harder.

“No. No no no—don’t look at me like that.”

Rumi’s lips part. “Zoey—”

“Don’t! Don’t—please, please, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it, just don’t look at me like that, like I’m worth saving, I can’t—I can’t fucking take it.”

She stumbles back, gasping, voice wrecked.

“Please I’m sorry I didn’t mean to yell—yes I did, I did, but I didn’t mean you, I meant me, it’s all me, I know that—I fucking know that, so just stop pretending it isn’t!”

She’s full-on crying now. Screaming through it.

“Hate me! Just fucking hate me already! Stop giving me chances, stop looking at me like I’m yours, like I’m not one fucking slip away from ruining everything—because I am! I already have!”

Silence.

Then—

Rumi takes a step forward.

Zoey collapses.

Not gracefully. Not in a way that’s cinematic or tragic or poetic.

She sinks. Knees hit tile. Hands shaking. Shoulders caving in.

“I’m sorry,” she whispers.

And then louder—

“I’m sorry I yelled, I’m sorry I pushed you, I’m sorry I can’t stop being like this—please, just don’t leave, please, I’ll fix it, I’ll be better—just don’t look at me like that. Please don’t look at me like I’m still worth it. I’m not. I know I’m not.”

She covers her face.

And sobs.

[acciojaeyun]

– love grows, where my rosemary goes. | psh. (PREVIEW)

PAIRING. jock!sunghoon x fem!reader

SUMMARY. summer, 1983. you work at reeltime video, alphabetize tapes, and fall in love with stories too big for your small town. park sunghoon, campus heartthrob with a members only jacket and a habit of returning late tapes, is the last person you'd expect to work the summer shift beside you. but then he does. and one thursday, he climbs through your window.

CONTENT. slowburn, virgin!reader, experienced!sunghoon, first time sex, praise kink, mutual pining, falling in love over summer, 1980s nostalgia, video store setting, hurt/comfort, miscommunication, window climbing scene, rom-com tropes, soft smut, emotional climax, sunghoon in love and desperate, mentions of reader’s first time, safe but descriptive intimacy, lots of feelings

WORD COUNT. 7k-ish

RELEASE DATE. july 19, 2025

MY LIBRARY. REQUESTS ARE OPEN! TO BE ADDED TO MY TAGLIST, YOU CAN SEND ME A MESSAGE.

”I… don’t think I’m mentally equipped for this,” you say flatly, straw still in between your lips.

He gestures at you, “That makes two of us.”

You slide your milkshake away like it might combust in your hands.

“Why are you here?” you ask, slowly standing up, “Did you get lost looking for your reflection or something?”

“Did they hire you for your customer service?” He deadpans, shooting you a look.

You open your mouth to retort, but then the bell above the door chimes again.

Two sharply dressed adults step in, and the temperature drops ten degrees. His parents. You know this without being introduced. The posture, the judgment, the expensive perfume that doesn’t suit the musty, tape-sleeved air of ReelTime.

You step out from behind the counter, clutching the corners of your best like a shield.

“Miss Y/N?” the man says, voice precise, smooth, like it’s been filed down to a razor edge, “Mr and Mrs Park. We spoke briefly on the phone.”

“I think you spoke to my manager, actually,” you squirmed.

“Well, she said you’re one of the store’s most efficient hires,” Mrs Park chimes in with a rehearsed smile, “And we’re hoping you can help Sunghoon adjust to this…environment.”

”Environment?”

”This store,” Mr Park says. “We’ve arranged for Sunghoon to work here until school resumes. A bit of structure. Accountability. You know that.”

Your gaze drifts to Sunghoon, who looks like he’d rather chew glass than be standing here.

”And you want me to…”

”Keep an eye on him,” Mrs Park answers, too quickly. “Make sure he shows up on time. Stays out of trouble. Make sure he learns the value of responsibility.”

”I don’t need a babysitter,” Sunghoon grits out, throwing you a pointed look.

”But you sure act like you do,” you mutter. His eyes narrow at you.

Mrs Park clasps her hands together, “This is going to be such a wonderful experience, sweetie,” she says as she looks at Sunghoon. And you look at Sunghoon again. Vest wrinkled. Arms crossed. Standing beside a cardboard cutout of Princess Leia.

Yeah, you’ll be needing another milkshake.

©️ acciojaeyun, 2025.

[yannaryartside]

Why should I believe you?

How Carmy's journey parallels the addict in Replicants

Some time ago, I started wondering if the show was using the relationship between Carmy and Syd as a representation of the struggles of relying on and connecting with a recovering addict/someone with a mental health struggle. These scenes in Replicants made me think about that again.

The show does a good job of showing how difficult it is to get yourself out of toxic patterns of thinking. I think the metaphor here applies more in the sense that most addicts are also recovering from trauma, and the difficulty of changing one's way of thinking in order to actually heal. So even if Carmy doesn't have to deal with addiction, he does seem to see himself in the addicts that are talked about in this therapy group.

In s1, after a spouse of an addict talks about "changing the chemistry," he makes a speech with the exact phrase, and puts Sydney in charge of the brigade as a way to "change the chemistry" (kinda foreshadowing the end of s4 if you think about it.

In s3, he hears a son of an addict talk about feeling affected by the things their parent did, even if they apologized, and that made Carmy feel guilty and think his apologies won't fix anything.

And now, in s4, he hears this woman talk about an incident of having his addict brother live with her, unsupervised, for a weekend. The brother in the story got drunk, invited people, and damaged her property after promising there would be "no mischief". The woman speaks about how difficult it is to believe someone would change, especially when you love them, and then they manage to let you down, even if they think they are doing better.

And that was playing in the back of my mind, rewatching this scene, especially in the context of Carmy leaving.

He is trying to be better than his brother in the story, owning up to his mistakes and his flawed ways of thinking. Sydney's reluctance to believe he has changed parallels the woman's skepticism about her brother, trusting him only to be disappointed again. Not to mention the emotional turmoil it causes.

As much as it hurts, in this context, it makes perfect sense that Sydney didn't want to bring Carmy with her to the hospital, when the most consistent thing in her life, her father, was at risk. She didn't want to give herself a chance to be doubly disappointed. Not that she really believes Carmy would bail on her, she may just subconsciously fear it, which is fair, let's remember, Sydney already has issues relying on people, problems that may come from before she met Carmy.

I think it's quite essential how Syd actually takes responsibility of not being "consistent" either, reminds me of how in S3 she said she felt like an "accomplice" of Carmy's going off the rails. This is something people with loved ones in recovery struggle with: how much they can love someone and not notice if they are enabling them, maybe because they are afraid of how to act, or fearful that they are going to hurt them instead of helping. The whole family in S3 were accomplices too, but Syd is the only one who says it.

Just water the plants

In the story, the brother tries to minimize his relapse, pointing out that at least he did one thing his sister asked him to do: water the plants.

And I wonder if that is a clue on how and why Carmy is doing his fixes this season. He is in a depressive episode, feeling lost (aka, he has relapsed) so he is doing a round of watering the plats (aka, doing the one thing that everyone told him to do) he apologize to Claire and tries to requindle their romance, he apologize to Richie and tries to connect with Nat while she is discovering motherhood. He gives Sydney a set menu and gives her a new partnership agreement. He makes compromises on the components for the dishes after his recklessness made the restaurant finally unfeasible. He ends the season thinking he is too broken that he cannot bring anything good in proximity to the ones he loves, that he is damaging them because he can't find his own center.

But he hasn't done the one thing he needs to do; instead of what other people tell him to do, he needs to heal, to look inward. And I still think he's running away from himself here, because he is the bear, and so is Syd. "Whatever change of anything good, any chance of survival, is with you." Because Syd always applies patience and fairness to his issues. Because she is his peace.

So all of S4 looks like Carmy doing the step of "making amends" when he was avoiding his actual wound all along. We also know that Claire made him think "he was on fire", which is something he does when "he doesn't want to think of anything," in other words, self-punishment/self-harm for fear of confronting a wound/feeling broken.

I'm not sure how Carmy will start his healing journey, but I hope he gets help to reframe his approach to it.

I hope that made sense. I don't want to minimize the struggles of addiction on what Carmy displays or the elements I understand in the subject, just how the show used this particular story to set Carmy's character arc.

Also, the subtitles are a little delayed in the scenes, so that may look weird.

[zerosomnia]

Thunderbolts* x Reader

The Kisspiricy - Walker's Ending

Summary: With the search for your mystery kisser fully underway, Yelena helps you narrow down the options. In this case, one teammate is acting a little suspicious.

Genre: Fluff

Author's Note: Ah, yes, John Walker fluff - my specialty. Anyways, I hope you enjoy this ending and check out the other ones as they are posted! Also my requests are open, so feel free to ask me anything!

@sunkissedsentry, if I remember right you asked to be tagged in the post my dear, so here you go! 🫶

Wordcount: 2,369

PARTS: Part 1 | Alexei | Ava | Bob | Bucky | Yelena |

Your search began in the common room, with Yelena sluggishly trailing behind you as you stumbled off the lift. Both of you had eaten and caffeinated yourselves, one step closer to feeling human after the wild night. Initially, the room seemed empty, and the bright midday sun that was shining in harshly through the large windows made your eyes sting. But Yelena was a better hunter than you, instincts on point even when she was far from feeling decent. She stalked around the side of the sofa, towards a low seat by the window, body poised like she was trying to avoid scaring flighty prey.

“Hi Bob,” Her voice was light and drawn out, a good mask for your intentions. He ogled the pair of you with wide eyes, probably concerned over how both of you appeared.

“Hi, uh, you guys look… not great.”

“I feel like shit,” You shrugged, sending him a small smile. Your attempts to comfort him were quickly ruined by Yelena lowering herself down to his eye level and not-at-all-suspiciously questioning him.

“So, how was your night, Bob? Get up to anything fun?” His stare flickered between you both as he replied uncertainly, playing with the hem of his sweater.

“I was with you guys all night… you… You saw what I was doing?” His voice heightened at the end of his sentence, clearly worried he was saying something wrong. He nervously tilted his head at the blonde; it looked like he was trying to assess her response. Yelena hummed thoughtfully.

“I don’t know Bob, did we see what you were doing?” You crossed your arms at her as she looked back at you, shaking your head with an exasperated chuckle and looking up towards whatever entity could save you from the embarrassment of being seen with her.

“Yelena, you’re worrying him.” She gasped, you weren’t sure if she was acting offended or genuinely was dumbfounded by your accusation.

“I am just trying to find out what fun Bob had last night! What is wrong with such talk between friends? Right, Bob?” She motioned to him, and he nodded with scrunched eyebrows and visible confusion on his face. He quickly reached for his coffee with shaky hands, taking a long sip as she started talking again. “So, did you get up to any kissing last night?” Then Bob choked, spluttering out a series of confused noises that were probably various ‘what?’s and ‘why?’s.

“Okaaay, we are done here.” You pulled Yelena away from the brunette by her shoulder, leading her back towards the lift. She accepted your hurried bustling, obliging as you shoved her into the metal box and shouted an apology over your shoulder towards Bob. You sighed in relief. It was over.

“I don’t know, he seemed pretty suspicious.” She shrugged once the lift was moving. You stared at her incredulously.

“You’re joking, right?”

The next two targets of your questioning were found in the shared gym. Bucky and Ava seemed surprisingly well, despite the amount they had both drunk during your celebration.

“Wow, you two are actually alive. Well done,” You applauded the pair as you stepped off the lift and into the space. A movement by one of the side doors caught your eye. Whatever it was, it was too quick for you to identify. You let your stare linger for a moment before returning to your friends.

“Bucky promised he’d take it easy on me today – I’m yet to see the ‘taking it easy’” Ava panted, a sheen of sweat on her face, and chugged water from her bottle.

“I’m helping you detox.” Bucky deadpanned. “You’re supposed to be younger and fitter than me anyway.”

“I also drank a lot more than you,” She glared at Bucky, who had a hint of a smirk on his face. “Anyway, I didn’t drink as much as you two. You just about rivalled Alexei.” She nodded at you and Yelena, appearing somewhat impressed.

“Yes, you did well,” Yelena patted you on the shoulder roughly.

“Uh, thanks… so did you?”

“I’m Russian, it’s in my blood.” Ava chuckled, and Bucky nodded in agreement.

“Anyway, seen much of anyone else today?” You mused. “We’ve only seen Bob so far.”

“Well, that makes sense, because Ava, John, and I have been here all morning,�� Bucky grunted, wiping himself down with a towel.

“All morning?” Yelena squinted at the pair judgmentally. Ava nodded with a weary huff, a flicker of annoyance crossing her tired features.

“Oh, we didn’t see John – Is he still here?”

“No, he practically ran away when you both arrived. Must have made a fool of himself last night – not that it’s hard for him.” Ava smirked. You exchanged a quick glance with Yelena, who raised her eyebrows and pursed her lips in a contemplative expression.

You conceded, knowing you wouldn’t learn more from the pair unless you asked directly. “Do you guys remember much of what happened last night after the shots? Because, honestly, I really don’t.”

“You mean you don’t remember Alexei’s amazing Karaoke? Which he started directly after the shots, by the way, I was still downing mine." Ava feigned shock, and Bucky visibly grimaced at the mention of it. Yelena groaned, facepalming.

“It wasn’t that awful, old song he’s been singing all week, was it?”

“It was probably supposed to be,” Bucky muttered, eliciting a laugh from everyone.

“You’d think he’d be a little quieter, y’know, have a sore throat from all the yelling and singing? But he’s as loud as ever. Even made us breakfast – while he was still singing.” Ava sighed, stretching off her muscles.

“Ok, thanks, guys. We’ll let you get back to it.” You nodded and started to back up towards the lift. Ava, looking utterly defeated, dragged herself over to the mat where Bucky was waiting for her. Yelena stuck close to your side, falling into step with you.

‘So now we, thankfully, know you didn’t sleep with my dad.’

“Well, I didn’t sleep with the kiss thief either.”

“No, you think you didn’t sleep with them.” She side-eyed you as you stepped back into the elevator. “How do you know if you don’t remember anything?”

“I just know, ok?” You huffed at her, shaking your hands in frustration. She stayed quiet for a few seconds, leaving you to simmer before she started another argument.

“I still think it was Bob.”

The argument followed you as you proceeded back upstairs, and the pair of you automatically started wandering towards the kitchen. As you reached the doorway, seconds away from yelling at the Russian woman for being so irritating, you spotted a recognisable, broad back making its way down the hall. You paused, watching as John ducked into his room. Your sudden silence caught Yelena’s attention, who also watched him leave. She turned to you, making a motion that conveyed a ‘Well?’.

So, you set off towards the doorway of his room, nerves fluttering in your chest. Yelena had disappeared, probably into the kitchen, as you now heard the distant, loud exchange occurring between her and Alexei.

The background noise didn’t do anything to interrupt your racing thoughts. It must have been him that you saw leaving the gym, but he went through another door. Was he avoiding you on purpose? Maybe he didn’t want to talk to you? If he was the person you kissed, did you upset him? It hadn’t been that long since his divorce – maybe he wasn’t ready for that kind of thing. Did you ruin everything?

You’d be lying if you said there wasn’t a small part of you that liked Walker. He was funny, in an awkward kind of way, and sometimes he was even charming. Plus, he definitely wasn’t bad to look at. Not with those huge muscles or how tall he was, and the blonde hair and blue eyes were a deadly combination. Ok - so maybe the part of you that liked him wasn’t so small after all. But you had always told yourself he wasn’t an option. He was still figuring himself out, there was no way he could like you on top of that.

But now you weren’t so sure.

You broke yourself out of your spiral, feet having carried you to his door like they were on autopilot. The dull metal sheet stared back at you in empty judgment. The doors were so modern, and bare – it annoyed you. The metal was cool as you rapped on it with your knuckles, the knock barely made more than a ‘ting’ noise against the hulking sheet, but the sudden stillness in the air convinced you that John had heard it. You waited. Should you knock again?

As you raised your fist, the door slid open with a quiet whirl. Walker stood awkwardly by the panel of controls, staring at your dishevelled form for a minute before he backed off into the room, jerking his head in a ‘come in’ motion. The silence between you both was heavy as you passed the threshold, the whoosh as the door closed again echoing like a gunshot.

His room was tidy, regimented almost. There was little in the way of personal decorations, and everything was ordered meticulously. His beard grooming kit lay open on his desk, stacked neatly in front of the mirror. His bed was neatly made, like he hadn’t even slept in it, and his clothes from last night were draped neatly over his desk chair. You hovered, not knowing where to stand or look. Walker was no better, patting his face with the towel laid over his shoulders. He had likely just washed his face, judging from the water drops hanging off his hair and the damp around the collar of his grey shirt.

“I thought I’d come check in, see how you are after last night? We drank a lot so…” You trailed off, struggling for conversation with the way he was pensively staring at you. He cleared his throat, switching his focus to arranging items in his room.

“uh, yeah, yeah. I’m… I’m ok – I think you drank a lot more than me. You seemed pretty out of it by the end of the night,” You caught his eye, making a point of staring at him.

“I’m gonna be honest, I don’t remember much past the shots Alexei bought us. Did… did we dance together at some point?” John paused for an abnormal amount of time.

“Well… I mean, everyone danced together at some point,” He kept shifting his weight, trying to brush past your question.

“You know what I meant.” You stated quietly. He stilled, contemplation evident on his face.

“You really don’t remember anything?”

“I remember some things, but I want to know if what I remember is what you remember too.” Your answer clearly brought him no ease, as he stepped back a bit from facing you. He almost walked a small circle in his pacing, bringing his hand up to rub over his face and resting it on the back of his neck.

“We..uh” He cleared his throat, taking a deep breath in before he sighed out the confession you had been waiting for. “We did dance together. And… we kind of kissed. Well -  you kissed me, and I guess I kissed back, so I guess. We kissed.”

You nodded at him, trying to still your flipping stomach and the nauseous dread that was forming. “I’m really sorry, John.” He stopped, looking at you with evident confusion.

“What?”

“That wasn’t fair of me. It hasn’t been that long since you… since you and Olivia. And-“ You swallowed, trying to blink away the way that your eyes were stinging. “I understand if I was out of line, and if you feel uncomfortable with being around me-“

“Hey. No.” John closed the distance between you both, grabbing your shoulders as he bent down a little to meet your eyes. “I’m not upset. I didn’t think you liked me back,”

After a brief moment of contemplation, you gave him a small, sly grin. “So, did you like the kiss?” The tips of his ears turned red and he straightened back up.

“Well, yeah. I mean, it was nice – and you… you’re a good kisser. So, it was pretty good.”

“Oh,” your tone changed, something mischievous brewed under the surface. “Well, it’s a shame that I don’t remember such a good kiss.” John nodded along with you, clearly not getting what you were insinuating. You leaned forward, lowering your voice. “Maybe we should try it again, just to jog my memory a bit, y’know?”

A grin cracked across his face as the penny dropped, and John stepped closer to you. His movements were surprisingly gentle as he brought a hand up to hold your chin, leaning in with a teasing slowness. The kiss was tender, sharing the same softness as the one in your memories. His beard tickled at your face, and the gentle scent of his cologne enveloped you both when his other arm wrapped around your waist, yanking you in suddenly. You squeaked into the kiss, a laugh breaking you apart. John grinned down at you, moving so that both arms were wrapped around you, holding you close. That was definitely better than the first kiss.

“I thought you hated it, that’s why I avoided you.” His sudden confession caught you off guard as you leaned back a little in his arms.

“What made you think that?”

“You ran away really quickly after it happened. I guess I just got in my own head about what that meant.” He shrugged. You chuckled at him.

“John, I was smashed, I was probably chasing a bug or something. That doesn’t mean I don’t like you.” He laughed at your insinuation, leaning back in to chase another kiss, and that was when the door opened.

“Aw Damn it! I really thought it was Bob.” The two of you stared at Yelena for a minute before John broke through the tension.

“Uh, first of all, how did you get my door code? And second of all, what about Bob?” You sighed, pulling away from Walker in the wake of the blonde tsunami. This was going to require an explanation.