#surely not something ive been well aware of for years . SURELY not

[codecicle]

Congratulations on figuring out there are multiple people in your brain btw. I saw a while ago you posting about it being unsure so, YAY YOU FIGURED IT OUT!! LETSGOOOO!!! HELLO CHARLIE AND OTHER CODECICLE ALTERS!!!! YAAAYYYY!!!!!

FIGURED IT OUT!!! It really is crazy I didn't figure it out sooner, but I just assumed I was weird and didn't talk to anybody about it. Made a joke about it after multiple years of hiding it from everyone (and myself) and got told by multiple people "Hey yeah you're not normal go research stop feeling scared" and I did and now I'm friends with the people in my brain 🔥🔥 huge wins all around! LETSGOOO WOOOOOOOO CHEERING YAAAY!! Everyone rattling around up here says hi back!!!

[fardf150]

fuck

[mssalo]

safety - Part: I

Summary: After years of isolation, Joel Miller's life revolves around control and keeping danger at bay, his past as a soldier leaving him constantly on edge. But when a sweet, soft-spoken young woman starts working at the supply store, her innocence stirs something inside him. Despite his efforts to remain detached, Joel becomes obsessed with keeping her safe from the dangers he’s certain are lurking everywhere.

As his protective instincts morph into darker desires, the lines between safeguarding her and possessing her begin to blur.

Warnings will vary by chapter depending on the content.

Warnings: Dark!Joel, 18+ MDNI, Obsession themes, Stalking, Joel has major Trauma/PTSD, Mentions of military past, Manipulation, Power dynamics, Joel needs a hug and therapy. As per usual.

4k

Enjoy!

Part II Part III Part IV Part V

· · ───────────𖥸──────────· ··

Joel Miller wasn’t the type of man who sought peace or ease.

He’d spent too many years living a different kind of life-one built around routines of survival, discipline, and a level of alertness that never quite faded.

Now, back in Texas, he carried that constant vigilance like a second skin.

He’d settled in a small, secluded home just outside of Austin.

The area was quiet, isolated, the kind of place where nobody asked too many questions.

The locals respected boundaries, and Joel had made his clear. He kept to himself, lived a simple life, and preferred things that way.

People complicated things—something he wasn’t interested in anymore.

Most of his days followed a routine that he clung to with the same intensity he had in the service.

Early mornings were spent with coffee and silence, the smell of pine trees drifting through the windows of his old, weathered cabin.

Afterward, he'd take to the woods, either hunting or just walking trails he knew as well as the lines in his hands.

Out there, he could let his mind focus on something tangible—the tracks of a deer, the feel of the rifle in his hand.

There, his senses sharpened again, always on alert.

Joel’s awareness never dulled, not even after all these years.

Every noise, every shift in the wind or crunch of leaves beneath his boots, kept him on edge.

He was always scanning his surroundings, ready to react.

He knew it wasn’t just about the hunt.

It was the way his brain had been wired, after all the years of needing to be ready—whether it was for survival or something worse.

It wasn’t paranoia, just the reality of a mind that had been trained for danger. He told himself.

He didn't see many people. He didn’t want to.

But the thing about always being on edge was that it left little room for rest.

At night, the memories clawed their way in—images he’d rather forget but couldn’t.

Sleep was shallow and rare.

Even when he managed to drift off, he was often jolted awake by some phantom noise or sensation.

And once he was up, it was hard to shake the feeling that something or someone was out there.

He’d get up, check the locks, sometimes even patrol the perimeter of his land just to make sure.

In the quiet of his cabin, with only the crackling of a fire or the hum of the wind for company,

Joel would pour himself a drink.

Whiskey, usually. Something to dull the noise in his head, to take the edge off the constant tension that never quite left him.

But he never drank too much. He couldn’t afford to. He needed to stay sharp, always ready—just in case.

His life wasn’t complicated, and he liked it that way. He didn’t need company or connection, not anymore.

He kept things simple: survival, routine, and the solitude of the Texas wilderness.

It asked nothing of him, and in return, he didn’t have to share the parts of himself he’d buried long ago.

· · ─────

Waking up in the middle of the night drenched in sweat had become part of his routine, and after tossing and turning for hours, Joel would get up, make coffee, and try to focus on the small tasks that anchored him.

The sun was just beginning to rise as Joel Miller pushed the key into the ignition of his truck, the familiar rumble beneath him a small comfort in an otherwise uneasy world.

He had always been an early riser, but lately, the habit had turned into more of a necessity.

Driving out into the quiet Texas morning was one of those tasks.

The roads were mostly empty, and Joel preferred it that way—less to watch for, less noise, fewer things to trust.

He liked things simple.

Routine. Predictable.

After everything, it was easier to stick to what he knew, to keep the world at arm's length.

It was safer.

His hands gripped the steering wheel tightly, his knuckles turning white as his eyes flicked from side to side, scanning the road ahead and the landscape around him.

There was no telling who or what could be out there, even in a sleepy Texas town.

He wasn’t stupid enough to let his guard down, not after everything he'd seen.

Trust was a currency he couldn’t afford to spend, not anymore.

He kept the radio off, preferring the silence. It gave him space to think, to process.

Most of the time, though, it just made him more aware of the quietness around him.

Every little creak or snap of a twig was magnified, every shadow cast by the rising sun something to take note of.

He didn't trust the peaceful exterior of the world anymore.

Too much could change in an instant.

It was exhausting, always being on edge like that, but Joel had learned to live with it.

He couldn’t imagine doing things any other way.

As he drove further down the road toward the camping&outdoor supply store, he caught a glimpse of something moving in the distance—a flicker of motion between the trees.

His heart quickened, and his foot instinctively lifted off the gas pedal.

He slowed down just enough to check the rearview mirror, his eyes narrowing as he scanned the tree line.

Nothing. It could’ve been an animal, but Joel’s mind didn’t let him settle on that.

Even when he convinced himself it was probably just wildlife, he remained alert, tension rippling through his muscles.

"Could be anything," he muttered under his breath, gripping the wheel tighter. "Ain't takin' chances."

The camping store was a bit of a drive, but Joel didn’t mind.

The solitude of the open road helped him clear his head, as much as his thoughts would let him, anyway.

Hunting was something he could still rely on.

He didn't need anyone else for it, and it gave him an excuse to get away from people.

He wasn’t much for conversation these days, always keeping interactions short and transactional.

He liked the supply store too; the guy who ran it knew not to ask too many questions, just handled the sale and let Joel be.

It suited him fine.

As the store came into view, Joel exhaled, his mind already running through what he needed to pick up.

The truck tires crunched against the gravel as he pulled into the lot, parking in a spot that allowed him a clear view of the entrance and the surrounding area.

Old habits.

Joel turned off the ignition and leaned back in the seat, taking a moment to observe the store.

His hand absentmindedly reached toward the glove compartment, where his gun was stashed, just in case. He didn’t need it often, but knowing it was there kept him grounded.

After a few seconds of scanning the area and feeling satisfied that nothing was amiss, he stepped out of the truck.

The supply store wasn’t busy, just a couple of people browsing inside.

As Joel stepped into the store, the familiar scent of leather and canvas greeted him. Country music hummed low in the background, and the quiet atmosphere brought him a sense of calm.

The simplicity of the place was something he appreciated—straightforward, nothing complicated.

Just the way he liked it.

His boots thudded softly on the wooden floor as he made his way toward the back, scanning the shelves for the hunting gear he needed. It was his routine, one he kept to himself.

The sudden crash jolted him like a gunshot.

Joel’s instincts took over, his body reacting before his mind caught up.

His hand flew to his side, fingers brushing the handle of the knife he always kept on him. His eyes darted around the store, scanning for threats, muscles coiled tight and ready.

He felt that old familiar rush of adrenaline—the kind that came from years of having to be on guard every second.

His heart pounded, the edges of his vision sharpening as he prepared for the worst.

But then, he saw her.

Just a girl. Bending over, trying to gather the gear she’d knocked to the floor. No threat. No danger. Just her.

Joel exhaled slowly, the tension easing out of his shoulders as the world settled back into place.

He let go of the knife, though his pulse still hammered in his ears. He hadn’t been expecting someone like her to trigger that reaction. Not here. Not now.

But for some reason, he couldn’t look away.

She was clumsy, but calm—no panic, no rush to fix what she’d done.

It was as if she was used to things slipping from her hands, not bothered in the slightest. That softness, that ease, it drew him in like nothing else had in a long time.

And even though the tension from the noise had faded, he found himself still rooted to the spot, watching her.

His eyes trailed over her, catching the way her long, soft looking, hair tumbled down her back, how her tender fingers fumbled with the items before her.

She was a mess of soft edges, and he hadn’t seen anything that soft in years.

He’s not used to that.

His world had become hard, sharp, filled with things that made sense, with people who didn’t get too close.

People like him, always on edge, always prepared.

She stood up, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, and for the first time, Joel saw her face.

Young. Too young. Early twenties, maybe.

Her cheeks were flushed a soft pink, her lips parted in what looked like mild embarrassment as she glanced around at the mess she had made.

But it was her eyes that hit him the hardest.

Doe eyed, wide, bright, completely unguarded.

So easy to read.

She looked right at him, her gaze catching his, and Joel’s breath hitched in his chest.

What was this girl doing? Looking at him like that?

She wasn’t supposed to look at him that way—not with that kind of openness, that kind of… trust.

Her blush deepened as her gaze flickered to the ground, but not before Joel saw it creep up her neck, warming her face.

She was blushing because of him.

When was the last time that happened?

“Oh! Sorry,” she said, her voice light, soft, but not the irritating kind of soft.

It was smooth in a way that made something settle in Joel’s chest. Normally, he hated small talk.

People’s voices grated on him. But hers didn’t.

Her voice wrapped around him, warm and gentle, and for reasons he couldn’t explain, Joel didn’t hate it.

“I didn’t see you there,” she continued, letting out a nervous laugh, her hands brushing against the fallen gear.

“I swear, I’m always knocking things over.” She smiled shyly, that blush still clinging to her cheeks, and Joel’s chest tightened again.

She was yapping—just rambling on in a way that would’ve made him turn his back on anyone else. But he couldn’t move.

He was locked in place, listening to her soft, musical voice as if it was something he hadn’t heard in years.

Maybe because it was. Maybe because no one ever talked to him like this anymore.

Most people avoided him.

They saw the hard set of his jaw, the cold glint in his eyes, and they stayed far, far away.

And that was just how he liked it. Less mess, less trouble.

But not her. She was still standing there, babbling about how clumsy she was, her voice a soft hum in his ears.

Joel felt something shift inside him, something he wasn’t sure he liked. He didn’t know her.

Shouldn’t care about her babbling, or the way her scent—something fresh and sweet—drifted toward him, making his head swim.

But here he was, standing there, drinking in her voice, her scent, like he hadn’t been around anyone like her in years.

Which, to be fair, he hadn’t.

Joel cleared his throat, forcing himself to speak, though his voice came out rougher than he’d intended. “Don’t worry ‘bout it,” he muttered, his words gruff, but his feet still rooted to the spot.

Her smile widened, and her eyes lit up.

The warmth in them caught him off guard. He wasn’t prepared for that.

“Thanks for not laughing at me,” she said with a small, bashful laugh, her fingers fiddling with the edge of her jacket. “Most people would’ve.”

Joel’s brow furrowed. “Why would I laugh?”

She shrugged, glancing at the gear still scattered on the floor. “I’m kind of a mess.”

Her words didn’t sit right with him. How could someone like her—someone so soft, so full of light—call herself a mess? He is a mess.

But before he could respond, she smiled again, her lips curving up in that sweet way that made his chest tighten all over again.

And that scent… God, he couldn’t place it, but it clung to her, swirling around him like a warm blanket.

His mind raced, cataloging every little detail about her.

Her soft pretty eyes. The way her smile made the corners of her eyes crinkle just a little. The way she smelled, like fresh air and something sweet. Vanilla?

He was reading her, studying her like he used to study his surroundings, picking up on every detail.

But none of it made sense. She didn’t make sense.

Normally, he’d be long gone by now. His thoughts already moving on.

But she was still talking, still smiling up at him, and instead of walking away, he just… stared.

She cleared her throat again, glancing down at her hands before looking back up at him.

“Do you work around here?” she asked, her voice a little softer now, a little shyer.

Joel blinked, realizing he hadn’t said a damn thing in what felt like minutes.

He shook his head. “Nah, just pickin’ up some things.” His voice sounded foreign to him—rough, cold, not at all the kind of tone that matched the warmth she was giving him.

But she didn’t seem bothered by it. Instead, she tilted her head slightly, her lips curving up in that smile again.

“Oh, cool. What are you picking up?”

Joel stared at her, unsure of why she was still talking to him, still smiling at him.

But he found himself answering her anyway. “Just some gear. Hunting stuff.”

Her eyes brightened, her smile widening even more. “Oh, hunting! That’s cool. I’ve never been, but I always thought it seemed kind of… peaceful, you know? Just you and nature.”

Peaceful? Joel had never thought of hunting as peaceful. Necessary, sure. But peaceful? Not in the way she was describing.

He grunted, not sure how to respond, but she just kept smiling, her voice still light, still soft.

“Oh, gosh,” she said, standing up with a bundle of fallen gear in her hands, a sheepish smile on her face. “I could never hurt an animal, though. I don’t know how people do it. Like, I get hunting and all, but... me? No way. I’d be useless out there.”

Joel’s brow furrowed, still caught between the sharp edge of his earlier reaction and the softness of her voice.

“Right,” he muttered, nodding slightly, feeling more awkward than he had in years.

“Well,” Joel grunted, his voice a little rougher than intended, “it ain’t about enjoyin’ it. It’s necessary. You do what you gotta do.”

And for the life of him, Joel couldn’t understand why he didn’t just walk away.

He should’ve. He should’ve grabbed what he needed and left.

But something about her—her scent, her smile, her softness—kept him rooted in place.

He wasn’t good at this. Talking. Interacting. Especially not with someone like her—someone who looked at him like he wasn’t something to be avoided.

But she was smiling at him, her eyes wide and innocent, like she wasn’t aware of how the world really worked.

Before he could say anything else, he saw her blush deepen, her fingers fidgeting with the hem of her jacket.

She was nervous, but not in the way people usually got around him.

She wasn’t scared. She wasn’t backing away.

She was blushing because of him.

Hm?

As the awkward silence stretched between them, Joel cleared his throat, the sound rough and abrupt.

He hadn’t realized how long he’d been standing there, just staring at her while she kept talking, her soft voice filling the space between them.

He needed to go.

This whole interaction had lasted far too long, longer than he was comfortable with.

His chest tightened with a mix of confusion and frustration, and he could feel the tension creeping into his limbs, urging him to move, to walk away.

She was still smiling at him, her eyes bright, completely unaware of the storm brewing inside him.

“Right,” Joel muttered, his voice gruffer than he intended.

“I should… get goin’.” He nodded awkwardly toward the hunting gear in his hand, using it as an excuse to leave.

Her smile faltered for just a second, her eyes flickering with a hint of confusion.

“Oh, sure! No problem,” she said quickly, her voice still sweet, but there was something softer in it now, like she wasn’t quite sure what she’d done wrong.

Joel could feel her eyes on him as he turned away, the tension in his shoulders growing with every step he took.

He forced himself to keep walking, not allowing himself to glance back, not letting himself think about the way her scent still lingered in the air around him.

As he pushed open the door of the shop, the cool air hit his face, a stark contrast to the warmth that had been building inside him.

He needed to get out of there. Now.

“Have a good day!” she called after him, her voice still light, still warm.

Joel didn’t respond.

He just kept walking, his boots heavy against the gravel as he made his way to his truck, his mind already trying to shove the whole interaction into the back of his mind.

It shouldn’t have affected him like that.

Joel climbed into his truck, the door creaking as it shut with a heavy thud.

The sun was setting, casting a golden light over the horizon, but his mind was somewhere else entirely.

His hands gripped the steering wheel tightly, his knuckles turning white as he sat there, staring straight ahead.

He let out a slow breath, trying to shake off the strange feeling that had settled deep in his chest.

That girl—he couldn’t get her out of his head. It didn’t make sense.

Her smile. The way her cheeks flushed when she looked at him.

The softness in her voice, the way she smelled—fresh, sweet, and somehow... so pure.

His brow furrowed as the memory tugged at him, gnawing at the edges of his mind like an itch he couldn’t scratch.

He hadn’t felt like this in years—hadn’t felt much of anything, to be honest.

And yet, there it was. Something stirring inside him, something he couldn’t ignore.

With a grunt, he turned the key in the ignition, the engine roaring to life.

He needed to get his mind straight, back to reality, back to the things that actually mattered.

Surviving.

Not some girl in a supply shop.

It couldn’t be because of her.

But as he shifted the truck into gear, his grip on the wheel tightened even more.

He couldn’t deny the physical reaction in his body—the tension building low in his gut, the heat rising through his chest.

Joel shifted uncomfortably in his seat, his breath catching for a moment.

He hadn’t even noticed it before, hadn’t allowed himself to.

But now, as he adjusted himself, the realization hit him with a force that nearly knocked the breath out of his lungs.

He was hard.

His heart pounded in his chest, the weight of it settling low in his gut.

How long had it been?

He couldn’t even remember the last time he felt like this, the last time his body reacted this way.

But it couldn’t be because of the girl in the shop, right?

“Jesus.” He clenched his jaw, the muscles in his neck tightening as he fought the urge to dwell on it. “There was no way.”

She was just a kid. I mean, a woman sure. But so young, soft, innocent.

Completely the opposite of everything he was—everything he’d become.

Joel’s grip on the steering wheel tightened even further, his mind racing.

This was wrong. He shouldn’t be thinking about her like this, shouldn’t be feeling this way.

But the more he tried to push it down, the more it rose to the surface.

Her voice, the way she’d blushed when she looked at him, the scent of her clinging to the air around her like a warmth he hadn’t known he needed.

Joel shifted again, trying to shake the thoughts from his head. He’d drive home, clear his mind, and forget about it.

Forget about her.

But as he drove down the empty road, the tension in his body only seemed to build. It had been years. Years since anyone, or anything, had made him feel like this.

And the truth gnawed at him, whether he wanted to admit it or not.

It was because of her.

· · ───────────𖥸──────────· ··

moodboard:

· · ───────────𖥸──────────· ··

New series incoming!! Thank you for the nice comments, they make me the most motivated to keep writing. :)

[kamaluhkhan]

GUILTY AS SIN?

GLUTTONY — part vi of we'll write sins not tragedies

pairing: luke castellan x nemesis! reader (afab) word count: 3k summary: after a mission gone wrong, you unknowingly take the fall for a friend; you get drunk with the enemy; and you start to think that, if they’re going to crucify you anyway, you might as well indulge in a few fatal fantasies. warnings: set during the last olympian so spoilers for the entire pjo book series; luke + reader get drunk; mention of death + war + reader has some survivor's guilt; smut (unprotected p in v, oral f receiving, kinda sub!luke, brief allusion to knife kink — 18 + MDNI) + angst author's note: not sure how i feel ab this one but i've been workshopping it for weeks so i think her time has come !! also maybe got a bit too deep into book lore oops. also also ive been listening to this song an outrageous amount and i hope i did it justice ANYWAYS lmk what y'all think, thanks sm for reading ♥

♪ "guilty as sin?" by taylor swift

you’re well aware of how suspicious this looks, rendezvousing with the enemy at a sleazy dive bar in the heart of the city. 

he walks in, and your heart starts to beat faster in anticipation. his familiar deep brown eyes are now striking gold, and a streak of gray is woven through his signature dark curls — evidence of the battles you've fought, on opposite sides, and an ominous reminder of a war that has yet to be over. 

as he casually orders himself a drink and one for you, you keep a hand on your concealed dagger. it’s become an instinct of yours, whenever he’s around.

“i didn’t come here to fight.” he assures, catching the glint of your blade. 

“and what about…..” you gesture broadly at him. 

“we’re not entirely synched yet, so it gives him a break whenever i’m in full control,” he explains as though reciting from a textbook (something like how to betray your loved ones and overthrow the olympians 101). “it’s only me tonight. i swear on the river styx.”

a shiver passes through you.

about a year ago, luke tracked you down in new york. apparently, kronos was pushing him to do something extreme, and luke felt conflicted. 

you thought it had to be some sort of cruel joke, because you could not think of anything more extreme than what luke had already done in facilitating a war between gods and titans. you had no patience for his crocodile tears, not after he played you so well the first time. 

you told him as much, then told him to fuck off. 

to be fair, you didn’t know that would lead to him bathing in the river styx and becoming a vessel for the titan lord himself.

luke wears the curse of achilles well: all strong muscles and sharp angles, his tan skin glowing ever-so slightly, and his body devoid of any fresh cuts or bruises despite surviving an explosion just a few days prior. 

“so….what? you’re the pilot whenever kronos needs to take a really long nap?” 

“i’d say timeshare is the closest way to describe it.” 

“50/50 ownership?”

“more like 90/10.”

you scoff. “sounds like a scam.”

the corner of his mouth quirks up in amusement. it reminds you so much of old times, his boyish charm peeking through whenever a camper would try to pull a prank on him, and then complain when he’d beat them to the punch. 

“it’s just me,” he repeats, but you didn’t need any more confirmation.

you know deep in your gut, from that mischievous smirk alone: it’s not the lord of time, but luke castellan next to you.

the bar is surprisingly busy for a weeknight. there’s a game being shown on TV, and people wearing sports jerseys occasionally groan or cheer or come to the counter to order another pint for their table while keeping their eyes glued to the screen. the jukebox in the corner plays music from the 70s and 80s as a group of friends starts to dance, tipsy after a deadly combination of jello shots and sangria.

for the first few drinks, you and luke are silent, letting these sounds of regular human existence fill the space between you. you half-expect him to ask about law school admissions, or the new tattoo you got on your upper thigh, or your band’s latest show — all fragments of your own mundane mortal life used to distract yourself from demigod realities. 

he doesn’t, though. luke just stares at the hockey game, one you know for a fact he doesn’t care about because the rangers aren’t playing, as he sips his old-fashioned like he has all the time in the world. 

“did you wanna meet so we could just sit here in silence or….”

when you had agreed to this meeting, you had a clear goal in mind: find out who the spy is and clear your name.

it might be too much rum or the crushing weight of recent events, but you no longer have the energy nor the drive to be strategic or even cautious around luke. now, you’re looking for a cure to your bone deep boredom and heartache.

"no. i’m here because….” he falters and runs a hand through his hair. “look, i heard about what happened at camp. and, with beck —” 

“dying?” you finish, taking one last gulp of your drink. all the rage, resentment and grief you’ve been feeling has been lodged in your throat. you’d hope each sip of your dark and stormy would burn through it, but instead it comes tumbling from your lips. 

“honestly, beck would probably still be alive if you didn’t join the dark side. i guess you’re kinda leading the dark side now, aren’t you luke? what’s that like?” 

luke polishes off his drink, too, his cheeks flushed. he gestures at the bartender for a third round of drinks. or is it fourth? 

“don’t be a dick,” luke sighs once a replenished glass is placed in front of him. “i obviously never wanted to hurt you — any of you.”

if you were of sober mind, maybe you’d point out that it’s too late; that luke already hurt all of you the minute he decided to side with kronos.

“i know i did, though,” he adds after swallowing a mouthful of his drink. 

you know that if luke was of sober mind, he would never have admitted that. he seems to know better than to apologize though, hopefully recognizing that the damage has already been done. 

it’s not like your hands aren’t bloody, too. 

“it was supposed to be me, you know?” you let out a watery laugh. “i was supposed to go with percy on the mission, but beck offered to go instead because he thought — he knew — that it would….it would be hard for me to see…. you.”

luke pauses and turns away from you. “you couldn’t have known what would happen.” his voice wavers, too. “beckendorf was looking out for you — it’s what he does. did.”

“i couldn’t even go to the funeral,” you continue. “i feel like i didn’t really get to say goodbye, you know?”

 “yeah,” luke hums sorrowfully. “mourning someone who fought for the gods isn’t really allowed where i am.”

again, you could point out the irony in what he’s saying. given everything he’s done, luke dug his own grave and clearly some for his friends, too. 

tears sting your eyes, but you blink them away. the reality is that one of your best friends died because you couldn’t handle an encounter with your ex-boyfriend, the one you’re currently sitting beside. 

you might not have done what they accused you of, but you’re nowhere near innocent. who were you to give yourself permission to cry?

in the dim neon light, you notice a tear slide down luke’s cheek before he wipes it away just as fast.

he clears his throat. “to charles beckendorf: a hero by any other name.”

you tap your glass against luke’s, and you both drink in honor of your lost friend. you drink to everyone and everything you’ve lost, too. 

beckendorf is dead; chris has lost his mind; clarisse might start her own war with the apollo cabin over a flying chariot; and ever since the princess andromeda mission went terribly wrong, silena can’t go one minute without bursting into tears. 

it was too easy for everything to fall apart, as though this was always what the fates had in store for you — the next generation of greek tragedies. 

thankfully, there always comes a break in the tragedy, and it seems to be now: you and luke, getting drunk off whiskey and rum and old memories. 

you remember countless times sneaking out to the beach after curfew, mixing store-brand soda with cheap alcohol smuggled into camp by luke’s half-brothers; hot summer nights spent fantasizing about existence outside of camp and returning to your head counselor duties in the morning with chiron and mr. d none the wiser. once you started dating, it became routine for the two of you to wander away from the group for some privacy, somewhere far enough away so that no one could hear you scream luke’s name.

those memories still make your skin flush, even as you’re here drinking cocktails at a bar in the city, with one friend gone to elysium and everyone else calling you a traitor.

“i can’t believe you don’t remember that night! mr. d caught a few senior campers getting drunk in his office? they stole a super expensive bottle of wine, threw up all over the carpet, and had to spend the rest of the night cleaning it?” 

you continue shaking your head. you tip your glass back to capture the last drops of amber liquid before confessing:  

“what i remember is spending the whole night jealous of malcolm pace because he got to slow dance with you.”

luke lets out something between a scoff and a laugh, then he’s silent for a few moments.

“i love this song,” luke muses, words blurring together. “i haven’t heard it in a while.” he finishes his drink and sets the glass down, holding his hand out to you. 

your brain is a bit foggy from all the alcohol, so it takes you a few seconds to realize what he’s asking. 

“you wanna dance?”

“yeah,” he answers. “make up for lost time.”

it’s not until you feel luke’s chest pressed against yours, his hands firmly on your waist, that you register what song is currently playing.

“downtown lights” by the blue nile — luke had spent so long trying to find the right song for your first time together. 

you told him not to worry, teased him a bit for planning every detail so meticulously, but deep down, your heart swelled with how much he cared.

the empty hermes cabin during capture-the-flag, both of you pretending to be too injured from sparring practice to play. luke’s sweaty hands fumbling with the condom, you having to step in and rip the wrapper with your teeth. clothes being haphazardly thrown on so you could run back to the infirmary before anyone noticed. silent vows to do it again, and again, and again. 

the more time spent exploring and experimenting, the more you got the rhythm of each other’s bodies, knew how to make the other squirm and throw their head back in pleasure — and that didn’t just go away when luke joined kronos’ army. 

even when your loyalties were more clear, your consciousness was plagued with visions of you and luke together, ones that left your sheets burning, more than the blazing summer heat. you confided in silena about these once, and she assured you that there is no such thing as bad thoughts. 

she did warn you, though: it’s when you indulge in these fantasies that they risk becoming fatal.

now, thinking back and forth between memories with luke and the events of this past very shitty week, you realize that maybe that’s why you’re here.

despite everything you’ve done, you supposedly betrayed people you consistently fight beside, fight for; you were thrown out of a place you once considered home and told never to come back. 

you were doomed from the start — a daughter of nemesis, assumed to be wicked and revenge-seeking since birth. 

well, if they’re going to crucify you anyway…..

once the song ends, you ask:

“you wanna go outside for a smoke?”

your hands start playing with the curls at the base of luke’s neck, hinting at what you were hoping comes next.

luke licks his lips, gold eyes darker than before. 

“guess you’re itching to put that celestial bronze to good use,” he says lowly.

“only if you ask nicely,” you drawl. 

luke blushes. 

you pull away from him, start walking towards the back exit, and pray that he follows you. 

—

this is why meeting with you was dangerous: there’s no one else in the world – god, titan, or otherwise – luke castellan would get on his knees for, let alone in the filthy alley behind a bar.  

technically, kronos sent luke here to recruit you. 

the scythe charm — the one used to communicate with silena — sits heavy in his pocket. it’s part of the reason why you were exiled from camp, why your friends don’t look at you the same way. why you can’t ever go back home, not really. 

luke imagines you might resent those who threw you out of camp, but you would never betray them. he knew that you weren’t likely to join kronos’ army.

he’s thankful that, at the very least, you still have a penchant for breaking some rules. 

the two of you are a tangled mess of teeth and tongue. luke tastes the spiciness of ginger beer and rum, mixed with sweetness from the clove cigarette you just smoked. you lock one leg around luke’s hip, and the brief glimpse of your lacy black underwear has him throbbing. one of your hands slips underneath his shirt to trace the contours of his abdomen. luke’s breath hitches when your hand reaches down even further. 

“wait –” you pause your actions to let luke finish his sentence, and already he regrets voicing his hollow concern. “i….i probably should not be doing this.”

“me neither,” you concede, breathing steadily.“but, they already think i’m guilty.”  with your other hand, your thumb dances over his kiss-swollen lips and luke feels something ignite in the pit of his stomach. “maybe i am, with how much i think about you.”

luke knows what’s at stake for him, if anyone finds out, but in a booze-soaked haze and with you looking at him like that, he can’t seem to care. 

it’s coming back to him now: that endless cycle of waking up sticky and drenched in sweat over dreams of screaming your name and going about his day like it wasn’t a paradox to be leading kronos’ army and still wanting someone aligned with the enemy to devour him. 

when he agreed, however reluctantly, to be a vessel for kronos, luke had to lock those desires inside a vault deep inside his mind. 

this might very well be luke’s last chance to satisfy his cravings, once and for all. tonight, he’s in full control of his body and mind. 

he’ll happily yield his power to you. 

soon enough, your teeth gnaw on his top lip as luke messily thrusts into you, your underwear hastily pushed to the side. he tries to savor every part of this, of you — the heel of your combat boot digging into his back; the sting of your nails where you grip him; the familiar scent of your skin, sickly sweet cherries and burnt vanilla; the hoarseness of your voice, encouraging him to go faster, harder. following your orders, luke wraps both of your legs around his waist and digs his fingers further into your hips to keep them secure.

it’s a religious experience, watching you throw your head back against the brick wall as your orgasm crashes through you. luke follows a few seconds later, pulling out just in time to paint the inside of your thighs with his cum.

luke grins as he watches you come down from your high, eyes closed, chest heaving, neck engraved with the outline of his teeth.

“sorry, didn’t mean to give you a concussion.”

you open your eyes just to roll them at luke, who’s tucking himself back into his jeans.

“you’re such an asshole,” you jest through labored breaths, registering his shit-eating grin. you fix the hem of your leather skirt and pout dramatically. “and you had to leave a mess behind, didn’t you?”

without another word, luke kneels in front of you. 

he leans his head back to admire how your lips curl into a bemused smile at his antics. your fingers press into his pulse point, no doubt feeling how reckless his heartbeat becomes underneath you. once more, your thumb prods at his lips; this time luke grants access, the cold metal of your ring burning on his tongue. 

“is this how you pledged loyalty to your titan king?” you taunt. 

luke shakes his head, still sucking your digit. 

he did have to bow, but not like this. the only entity he’d worship this desperately is you. 

“i’m honored,” you coo. luke bites back a whimper when you remove your thumb from his mouth, instead tracing the scar on his face, up his cheekbone. “i have to say though: i miss your brown eyes, pretty boy.”

his whole body is on fire with how you touch him, but your passing observation feels like a knife to the gut. wanting to be good for you, to prove he’s still your pretty boy, luke pushes up the bottom of your skirt so it bunches around your waist. 

“luke!” you attempt to scold, concealing a moan when his teeth graze your clit through the damp fabric of your underwear. “someone might see.”

“it’ll be fine, baby,” he assures. “is this new?” luke is mesmerized by the fresh ink on your thigh, fingers trailing over swirling black lines. 

you hum, a goddess gazing down on her disciple. “do you like it?”

luke nods. he replaces his fingers with his tongue, journeying across your skin, tasting salty sweat mixed with his cum drying between your legs. he hears your whimpers for more. he complies and plunges two fingers beneath the lace until you reach your peak. luke places one last kiss to your core, before getting up again.

you crash your lips onto his, and you’re kissing him the way you did back when you really loved him, chaotic and feverish. your fingers snake through his curls, and you tug on them just enough to make luke’s head spin. 

you’re somehow more intoxicating than however many drinks he downed earlier.

he sees something simmering behind your eyes, when you ask if he wants to come back to your apartment. you both know you shouldn’t, but honestly — in the grand scheme of things, what’s one more sin?as the two of you are tangled beneath your bedsheets, you decide to frame it differently, as a mutual vow: maybe just one more time will satisfy this hunger.

[aidlyncanon]

we dont talk about taylors pov enough its always everyone else but ive never seen a single person talk about her like trauma alone

Like I feel like I only ever see people talk about how their fathers death effected Tyler never Taylor.

She had her father die at a young age, she watched her mom basically spiral until she wasn't in a well enough mental state to properly take care of the kids (love her tho). Sure she had Tyler who promised he'd take care or them but was that easy? I mean she watched her brother lose interest in everything after Ethan. Imagine her realizing she couldnt do anything about that.

Parents days, seeing other kids with their parents all around them. Holidays and Fathers day passing each year slowly being less ans less enjoyable.

Now to the actual plot.

We already saw how she reacted but still.

Red said on her story (you can see in character info) that the twins have severe separation anxiety. So like actually imagine seeing your brother fucking fall of a cliff.

Spending hours looking for him unsure if hes even alive. Not only is that the first real time they've been separated but thats the first time someone in the group has died (not that theyre aware hes dead).

When she wakes up hes just idk seizing? idk bro got possessed but regardless she just immediately broke down. Completely unsure of what was happening.

Imagine rhe fear when Tylers now in the hospital, the last time someone was in the hospital for something major she never saw them again.

The relief when he came out and they reunited (i sobbed). Her finally being allowed to go with him.

Then the NEXT NIGHT she finds her brother on a tree IMPALED and extremely injured. That shit was traumatizing. So luckily they get him down but oh look gotta stitch him up because again majorly injured.

Then when they finally get to a "safe place" aiden fucking dies. Sure there wasn't much of a reaction likely due to being aware that he'd wake up and the adrenaline of "get the fuck under the table" but still.

So yk they wake up, aiden wakes up, all is well right?

nah they get kidnapped the next day.

So she wakes up in a room alone unsure of where she is, if logan, ben or ashlyn are there and okay. At this point shes not aware tyler (or aiden) is there until Alex tells her.

So great shes alone again all day until the phantom dimension where shes still trapped in a room alone with the knowledge her brother and friend are hurt.

Now I could say more but thats fast pass so I cant but either way i need more people to talk about taylor please 🙏

[strawberries-and-racing]

i wanna be yours - mv1

pairing: max verstappen x fem!reader

requests that came together and inspired this series:

• nsfw prompts 9-13 (in pt. 2)

• 'listen up. Obsessive possessive crazy max for sweet innocent reader smut.'

• 'ok so we need dark FICS of any driver of your choice but make him very obsessive and possessive and don't forget the smut. Keep it up girlllll!!!'

summary: a lot of tension building between possessive max and sweet y/n.

warnings: alcohol consumption, fluff, slightly crazy max, some cliches (im sorry!) also the title is based off the arctic monkeys song because i felt like the vibes matched also i love arctic monkeys💕

a/n: screaming once again!!! this is the first fluff ive posted and it's part 1/2. the next part has the smut as promised but i wanted to take my time and build this up please enjoy🙏

the flight to the UK was long, but well worth it. two months ago you'd been offered an unbelievable opportunity.

an opportunity you'd been dreaming of for years, one you'd spent what felt like an eternity working towards— an engineering internship. not just any internship, one with the red bull formula one team.

you'd be able to travel with the team, shadow the engineers, help with various tasks around the paddock, and design parts at hq. an absolute dream.

after scouring a thousand real estate websites, you'd finally found the perfect place for to live.

a little 1 bed 1 bath apartment, tucked into a beautiful, quaint little neighbourhood. just 30 mins to the red bull hq.

you'd dedicated many late nights and ikea shopping trips to making the apartment your own. your comfortable escape from the grueling hours of studying and pressures of the internship.

you led a busy life, but it never bothered you. you adored what you did and formula one had been your passion since you were a little girl.

and now everything was falling into place. in fact, tommorrow you'd leave to attend your first race with the team. austria. red bulls home race.

you were ecstatic to say the least.

  °~•☆���♡•☆•~°

you hurriedly made your way through the paddock and into the red bull garage. your eyes glued to the schedule on top of the pile of papers in your arms.

you were on your way to assist one of the senior engineers in preparation before the race began.

you were nervous, and it was no help that you weren't exactly sure where you were supposed to be meeting him.

suddenly, you stumble over your own feet and bump into someone.

you feel hands on your shoulders, their grasp firm, steadying you.

you look up and are taken aback by the pair of strikingly blue eyes staring back at you. his eyes were the kind of crystal blue that would capture anyones attention. but despite their bright colour, they had a sort of inexplicable depth, darkness to them.

there was something in his expression that you couldn't quite read. something stirring beneath the surface of his icy gaze. it was as though he wasn't just looking at you, but into you.

you abruptly become aware of his hands, still on your shoulders. you're so oddly aware of them, as if it's your first time being touched by anyone.

he holds you firmly, as if trying to hold you together. the moment seemed to last forever. the two of you frozen in time.

a stranger's eye contact and touch shouldn't be affecting you in this way.

"you okay?"

it's only once he speaks that you realize who the man standing in front of you is.

your eyes widen, cheeks flushing. you straighten up quickly, mouth slightly agape.

"oh'" you start, at a loss for words "yeah, im sorry." you manage a small smile.

you straighten up an take a step backwards, pulling away from his grasp. you miss the warmth of his hands more than you'd ever like to admit.

"it's okay, no worries," his eyes linger on you a moment longer before you both go your separate ways.

as you walk away, you cant help but glance back at him.

max verstappen.

you'd certainly heard him speak before on tv, but something about his accent in person was enchanting. his energy seemed to linger on you like perfume.

everything about him caught your attention, long before you'd bumped into him in person.

you'd seen his dominance on track, it was impossible not to notice. he could control the car like no other driver, handling each corner perfectly. he pushed the car to the limit every race and it payed off.

it wasn't just his driving you noticed. his persona. it was everything. and you couldn't ignore the fact that it was sexy.

his short temper, his tendency to snap easily.

it was unreasonably and indescribably attractive.

  °~•☆•♡•☆•~°

the next time you see him he's across the room. you're studying the notes that the senior engineer gave you, papers and writing utensils spread across the table in front of you.

he was discussing something with his race engineer, he certainly wasn't doing anything that was particularly interesting or peculiar, he wasn't even looking in your direction. but for fucks sake you were distracted. you were somehow absorbed by his prescence.

ever since bumping into him you couldn't seem to get him out of your head. last night you'd replayed the memory over and over in your mind, finding it more difficult than usual to fall asleep.

all day, you'd silently prayed you would bump into eachother again. your relentless efforts to push your thoughts and feelings to the back of your mind were useless.

the mere idea of him was addictive, so alluring. he was drug-like to you and impossible to ignore.

although it was unknown to you at the time, max had found himself similarly hooked on you. or rather, the thought of you. even though he found enough strength to avoid looking at you, he was well aware of you. sitting at the table in the furthest corner. he was even more aware of the fact that your eyes kept flickering in his direction.

your energy was unlike anything he had ever known. you walked around with an aura of pure innocence. yet you seemed untouchable.

your smile shone. your laugh was contagious. you radiated sunshine. max had come to know these things about you.

you were magnetic in such a way that made him curious.

it stirred something inexplicable inside him. like you were another thing for him to win, to claim. another thing for him to dominant. to corrupt.

your innocence was tangible. and max wanted to be the one to wreck you. it was all he thought about.

ruining you.

  °~•☆•♡•☆•~°

the light in your apartment was soft. that's how you preferred it.

you relished your alone time. your small apartment was tailored exactly to you. it was always where you felt perfectly safe and at ease.

light from the sunset was just beginning to spill through your windows. you're stirring a big pot of soup on the stove with lazy motions.

a buzz from your phone catches your attention, the screen lights up and you see a new message. it's from andrew, one of the young engineers at red bull who you'd grown close with over the past few months.

your eyes widen upon reading the message.

a dinner with drivers? you couldn't deny that it sounded exciting.

but then again, you were already in your pajamas and the soup was beginning to steam.

you suck in a breath.

fuck.

the three letters of his name were more than enough to change your answer.

  °~•☆•♡•☆•~°

you spent half your time getting ready frantically choosing an outfit.

finally, you'd settled on your favorite black dress. your hair fell over your shoulders in soft curls left over from the day before.

now, you were standing outside the restaurant. you take a deep breath, trying to calm your nerves.

you walk in and the hostess greets you with a friendly smile. you're led to a booth connected to a big table that's only half full.

andrew waves you over and you take a seat next to him in the booth. lando sits across from you.

youd never spoken with lando outside of strictly professional context and you were pleasantly surprised by his charming humor. you're engrossed in the conversation with the two boys as the rest of the group fills the table. you look up to greet the others.

your breath hitches when you see him. his eyes stare into yours with the same intensity as they had two days ago. you don't break the eye contact until he sits down and a dark haired boy you've never seen before calls his name.

despite the abrupt rush of blood to your head, you manage to hold up the conversation with lando.

  °~•☆•♡•☆•~°

max couldn't keep his eyes off you for long, and the longer he watched the tighter his grip got on his glass, until his knuckles turned white. he was so focused on you laughing and smiling with lando that he didn't pick up on the way you fidgeted with your ring. a nervous tell.

max clenched his jaw as you leaned in close to something lando said. far closer than what many would deem an action between two casual friends. your giggles and blushing and landos knowing smirk and your hand jokingly smacking his arm made max see red.

"you alright, mate?"

"im fine."

  °~•☆•♡•☆•~°

as the night goes on and the chatter and laughter get louder, people begin shuffling around, moving to talk with new people.

lando is called over to a different group of friends and andrew leaves with him, leaving you alone in the booth.

"having fun?"

you recognize his voice immediately, sense his burning presence as he slides into the booth, sitting next to you.

"yeah." you manage a smile. "the food was really good."

"that's good." he says, briefly glancing away. your eyes involuntarily trace over the tendons of his neck.

he was wearing a dark button down, the sleeves were rolled up to his elbows. simple, but ridiculously sexy.

he turns his eyes back onto you. "i didn't know you were gonna be here."

"oh i—" you hesitate for a second, his eyes making your heart skip a beat.

"andrew invited me." you explained, turning slightly so you could face him.

"mm, so are you..." he gestures between you and andrew a few seats down, you know what hes asking.

"oh no, we're just friends." you toy with the edge of your napkin.

it was a bold topic to bring up during a first conversation to say the least, but it didn't feel weird. there wasn't the usual tension, usual coldness that typically came with talking to someone for the first time. it was comfortable, you were able to relax a little.

"hm." is all max answers with. he spreads his legs slightly and pushes his hips forwards, getting comfortable. his leg brushing against yours.

the casual action had your heart thrumming in your ears, beating so loudly you're worried he can hear it.

you swallow, having to glance away. you feel your cheeks turning red.

why max verstappen had such an intense effect on you was still a mystery.

"so um—" you start, trying to make some small talk that would distract you from his arm that now rested on the ledge behind you. you take a breath, composing yourself before speaking. "how often do you guys do this kind of thing?"

he shifted again, his leg touching yours, but he doesn't pull it away this time. the knot of nerves in your stomach tightened. you felt your face turn even redder. the physical contact made your body ache for more.

max smirked, his ego swelling as he saw the effect he had on you.

"once in a while, usually after a race." 

you nod, biting your lip.

"congratulations by the way." you say, it wasn't surprising he'd taken first yet again, but you said it anyways. you prayed he wasn't able to pick up on the way your words came out slightly shaky.

you wanted to do nothing more than relax into him, but with the way he was looking at you that proved to be impossible.

you took a sip of your wine, desperate to cool down as an unexpected surge of heat washed over you which lingered between your legs.

max was different than anyone you'd ever talked too before. he reminded you of nobody. his sense of humor was unique and hilarious.

as the conversation continued you grew immensely fond of the dutchman sitting beside you. although you were absorbed in the stories from his childhood he told you, you remained acutely aware of how close the two of you were now sitting.

max's night couldn't have been unfolding more perfectly. your body language made your thoughts and feelings painfully obvious.

he picked up on the way you blushed immensely at any slight touch from him. the way your pupils dilated as you stared at him. the goosebumps that spread across your chest when he complimented your dress.

but the loudness of the restaurant was a little too much for him. there were too many people here. he craved something more intimate, more private.

"do you wanna get out of here?"

you're caught off guard by his words.

the question was so cliche, yet coming from his mouth it made your heart throb.

"there's a beautiful view not too far from here," he continued, "we could walk?"

his voice was like velvet and he leaned in close, speaking in a low tone as if he didnt want anyone to hear except you.

by now, you're practically having heart palpitations. the pit in your stomach gapes wider.

it was already hard enough for you to keep your sanity intact with him while surrounded by other people. you honestly aren't sure if you could handle being out alone with him.

you nod slowly your head spinning, breathe quickening.

"oh, yeah i'd love that." your voice was unsteadt, yet enthusiastic.

without another word he starts getting up, but before he slips out of the booth he gently touches your leg with his hand, as if reassuring you.

his fingers may as well have been made of hot metal, his touch affected your entire body, his fingerprints burned into your skin.

you felt like a little kid with a crush as you gingerly got up and followed max out of the restaurant, butterflies in your stomach and in your mind.

you don't notice all the eyes on you two as you leave the restaurant, too caught up in the giddiness you were feeling. your own eyes too focused on max in front of you, more specifically on his back which looked so good in that damn shirt.

max, on the other hand, was well aware of all the eyes on him. he fought to keep his cocky grin at bay. there were at least 20 other people there, and out of everyone, you were leaving with him.

he opens the door and lets you by first.

"thank you," you say, the night air cooling your overheated body.

"of course."

amongst the ever present—extremely active— butterflies that fluttered in your stomach, you felt a twinge of genuine nervousness.

you realize that you had just left a restaurant, alone at night, with a guy you technically barely knew. was this safe?

it certainly felt safe. max felt nothing like a stranger.

your nervousness melted away once max fell into step beside you. you looked up at him, at those intense blue eyes.

you were walking so close your arms touched. you had the urge to reach out and take his hand, but of course you didn't.

so there you were, walking alongside max verstappen into the dark night, to see the promised beautiful view.

you'd only walked two blocks before max carefully took your hand in his, entwining his fingers with yours.

please let me know if you want to be tagged for pt.2 (this might end up being three parts)❤

[delfiore]

—MY DEAREST FRIEND AND ENEMY. (1/5)

pairing: ona batlle x fem!reader

synopsis: you were ona’s biggest headache at man united, until you both move to barcelona.

word count: 3.7k

a/n: i’ve been watching the men’s game for years but i’ve finally sobered FINAL TODAY LET’S GO ENGLAND LET’S GO SPAIN (MOSTLY SPAIN)

PART II, PART III, PART IV, PART V

It started four years ago when Ona first signed for United. She didn’t notice at first the way you were always gunning for her, she was just doing her job.

But now, you were here in Barcelona with her. As she looked up at you, a soft smile on your face, everything she had buried in the past year all came rushing back.

Everyone was aware of the new signing from the States for her rival club just a couple of weeks before, a dragged-out saga of whether you were going to choose City or United. Unfortunately for her, you chose the Sky Blues.

If things had been different, maybe she wouldn’t have despised you as much as she did.

The first Manchester derby you played, she thought marking you would be easy until you dribbled past her several times to register a goal and assist. She must have been glowering at you when she walked back to the midfield line, because you shrugged before grinning at her, saying: “All in a day’s work.”

“Could I just ask what put Man City above all the other contenders for your signature?” “Well, I mean, it’s a great club with a great history, amazing players too. I’ve spoken at length with the new manager and he gave me a rough plan for next year’s project. So I’m really excited and confident that it’ll be a great destination for me.” “What do you say to the people who think you’ve chosen City for the money?” “People can think whatever they want to think. I’ll just play my game, and they can judge me all they want. It’s all anyone’s good for.” “You’ve just transferred from Portland, you’ve got an enormous price tag for the women’s game, tons of big clubs in Europe wanted you. There’s a mounting pressure on you, it seems. Do you think you’ll be up for the challenge of the Women’s Super League?” “It’s no fun if it’s not a challenge.”

Ona Batlle was what people considered a modern full-back, dangerous in attack just as she was solid in defense. But when playing against Man City, she usually has to stay back to avoid a dangerous winger finding their way into the box; you. It wasn’t her way of playing, and it frustrated her that that was what her role was while her team was struggling to create chances, especially when she knew she could help.

“I want you to stay back and mark Y/L/N. Whatever you do, do not let her out of your sight,” Casey had told her.

She hated you for caging her in, and the worst part was she wasn’t sure if she can stop you sometimes.

The night before her next game against you, she watched how you played the previous match, studied your movement carefully, and took notes. She liked that she had found a pattern. You liked to use your speed, but you also liked to taunt your defenders; a pace of prime Thierry Henry’s, and showboating tendencies like that of Neymar. It’s why you were so entertaining to watch, because every defender you faced ended up a sort of decoration to your parlor tricks, her included.

Ona never liked being second best to anybody, and certainly not to you.

And so when she was on the pitch, zeroing on you like a hawk, there was nothing stopping her from getting away from you. She didn’t need to resort to any risky challenges, she just needed to stick with you, keep you at arm’s length, and stay between you and the goal at all costs.

You may be a skilled player for your age, but controlling your temper is something you haven’t been able to achieve. She heard you cursing a few times, eventually earning you a yellow card when your insults were directed at the referee.

The ball had only left the City’s goalkeeper, Roebuck, yet she already felt you pushing back against her.

The game ended 3-1 for United, but she was secretly much happier that she had managed to piss you off so much, that you didn’t bother shaking hands with her afterwards.

“Congratulations, Ona. A huge victory for United. What do you think went well today?” “I think that our plans worked because we practiced and showed what we’re able to do. We didn’t have a lot of possession, but we focused on the counterattacks, and I think that definitely was a very effective tactic today.” “I have to ask you about Y/N Y/L/N. She’s been a formidable player in the league until now, and notoriously difficult to defend against, but she was practically silenced today on the left-hand side. Do you think you had something to do with that?” “I think what I’ve prepared in defense has worked out, for sure. I’ve also got my teammates to thank for covering the grounds for me. Y/L/N is a good player, and it’s always a joy to play against her.”

Her rivalry with you continued, and soon even the press was picking up on it. Manchester derbies now included Y/L/N v. Batlle, and everyone was predicting what crazy thing would happen next. It wasn’t common for defenders to make waves in the paper compared to superstar strikers or even midfielders unless they were linked with a big move. But soon Ona was reading about herself in the news, how she has defended Manchester United’s left wing with an iron grip, how they started calling her la matadora, for her ability to hold off forwards and tame them like bullfighters do.

One bull remained to be tamed though, and her conundrum continued into her second season at United.

Unlike her, you seemed to take the new breath of fame easily enough. Day in and day out, there were news of you scoring goals and bringing Man City to the top of the table by November.

You were born to be a star.

But Ona knew from shooting stars in the game that burned out too quickly; if you let what’s outside the pitch get to you, you might as well just leave it altogether. You might have been a good player, on your way to becoming a great one even, but you did have a flare for the dramatics which riled up the press quite a bit. If she was lucky, maybe the pressure would take you out of the game before she does.

International breaks were times she always look forward to, being able to represent her country. Even if they were friendly matches, she knew Spain was always being watched, as a team’s form was important on the world stage. The team would play two friendly matches, the first one being against Brazil and the other against the United States. Some friendly fixtures . . .

Brazil was a breeze, mainly because she wouldn’t have to face her biggest adversary. Naturally, you were called up to your national team, and the back-and-forth game persisted.

She had played against you many times at club level, but the way you played for your country was something else. There was more passion to the way you weave your way through defenders, more flare to your shots. It could also be the adrenaline of being called up for the first time, and wanting to prove yourself—she knew that feeling well.

It didn’t come as a surprise, then, that when a long ball was played over the defense line and Marta Cardona was on her way towards goal, you’d be there to strike her down right at the edge of the box. Her teammates appealed, and the referee paused the game, but all Ona saw was red. With a speed she didn’t know she had in her, she sprinted to you and shoved you away as you were bending down in a show of checking on Marta.

“What was that?! You could have broken her ankle, cabrona!”

“Watch it.”

You had never seen her so angry before—her jaw locked as she continued to hurl insults at you. If she wasn’t your mortal enemy maybe you could have found it attractive. So you pushed back, and soon both your teammates and hers crowded around you, trying to separate you. Kelley put her arm around your neck and walked away, telling you to “keep your cool, this is only a friendly”.

Never, you thought. Never while I’m playing against her.

You apologized to Marta eventually, and she was cool with it. “Heat of the moment”, she said, and you were grateful. You never meant to hurt anyone. Sometimes you just couldn’t control your adrenaline spike.

As expected, Ona didn’t even look at you after the match. So you went home with Marta.

The next morning at breakfast, Ona heard laughing from the girls surrounding Marta.

“How was your American late-night snack, Marta?” Leila laughed.

The girl only shook her head with a grin. “It was delicious, alright.”

Ona didn’t know what that twisted feeling in her gut was when she heard what Marta said, as she walked back to her hotel room after breakfast. She just knew that as long as she was alive, you were the most despicable person she knew.

ESPN: Y/L/N-Batlle Feud Continues, Bonmatí Controls Midfield in Spain-USWNT Clash “LOS ANGELES -- Thursday night saw a friendly match between Spain’s women's national team and the USWNT at the Snapdragon Stadium that ended in a 2-2 draw. Several debutants started for both teams, including Man City powerhouse Y/N Y/L/N. After a stunning cross into the box from the left for Mallory Pugh to tap in, a dangerous slide tackle on Marta Cardona ensured Y/L/N to be the heart of a confrontation between several players, including Ona Batlle. It seems their club rivalry persists as they were seen giving each other a very clear piece of their minds, and several clashes succeeded the Cardona tackle. It would have been a good performance for both if not for the slip of attitude. One thing is clear, though; the mentality is there, and it sure is entertaining to watch. […]”

The end of the season was fast approaching, and while you had become a thorn in her side, it came to a point in which she would not think about you until a week before a clash. This one in particular was crucial in the race for a Champions League spot that both Manchester clubs were vying for. She knew what it meant for the club to secure a UCL spot for the first time, and you were not about to ruin it for her.

Tooney and Millie invited her out for dinner the night before the derby, but she turned them down, opting for a quiet night in instead. After a few hours, however, she suddenly felt antsy, the anticipation before the game nipping at her. It was only 7pm when she checked and she decided to go for a run. She followed the familiar path she always takes to the nearby park, and she was glad she did because the sun was going down, leaving a glorious trail of orange in the sky. She loved these peaceful moments, away from adrenaline, away from the constant pressure, away from constantly having to push herself or she’d be called ‘lazy’.

A constant huffing sound appeared next to her, and when Ona looked down she saw an adorable corgi looking up at her while wagging its tail.

“Hello,” she bent down and pet the dog. Loving the attention, the little corgi jumped up in an attempt to lick her face, to which she let out a laugh.

“Bratwurst! Come back here!” She heard a voice call in the distance, which she assumed must have been the owner. “Sorry, he loves people.”

Ona looked up, and her face dropped. You did the same, standing frozen in front of her. Bratwurst was jumping up and down before you, probably excited that he received pets from someone else today.

She had never seen you in plain clothes before. You clearly knew how to dress yourself, because she might have admitted that you looked good if she didn’t hate you so much. But it was difficult to see you as anything else other than Y/N Y/L/N, Manchester City winger, and potentially Golden Boot winner this season by the looks of it.

And yet, she sat down on a nearby bench with you anyway, watching Bratwurst stick his butt in the air, attempting to catch a squirrel.

“I named him Bratwurst ‘cause he’s . . . long, you know?” You chuckled. ”Short form is Brat too, that’s kinda funny.”

In a sea of northern Englishmen, she never got to hear your American accent properly as she’d only heard you speak no more than two words to her, and most of the time they weren’t pleasant.

“How do you have time to own a dog?” She asked.

“He’s a foster. I just got him a couple of weeks ago.” You looked down at your fingers. “It’s nice to have him to come home to.”

The conversation died down, and suddenly Ona felt like this was a mistake. Maybe she should just leave, and continue her run. But she saw a different side to you—a gentler, quieter side unlike the boastful player she knew you as—and she wasn’t sure whether it was a good thing or not.

“Are you planning on adopting him permanently?”

“Maybe. I just want to make sure that I’m settled before making him move.”

You leaned back, placed your arm on the bench, and closed your eyes.

“You don’t want to stay in Manchester?”

“I don’t know yet. Why, would you be happy if I did?” You smirked, and she saw a glimpse of that player again.

Yes. “Your presence doesn’t bother me. It doesn’t bring me any joy either.”

“Just face it, Batlle.” You turned your body to her. “I get under your skin, don’t I?”

Ona blinked, her jaw clenching. “You don’t intimidate me, Y/L/N. You might be used to people bowing at your feet, but I won’t let you walk all over me. We will win tomorrow, and you might think to show some respect for others in the game.”

“Sorry, Batlle, can’t let you win. We’re playing Champions League next season.” You really enjoyed taunting her.

Ona huffed and stood up. As she walked away, she heard you call out to her. “See you on the pitch tomorrow, la matadora!”

There was nothing you could ever do to make yourself less hateful in her eyes.

It was matchday, kick-off time. Ona saw you on the other side of the midfield line. “Remember what you came here to do, and finish the job,” Marc had told them in the dressing room. He was right. She had a job to do, and she wasn’t about to let you ruin that for her.

They were to play with a high line today, which required Ona to stay near the midfield line and run back, should a forward slip through. About halfway through the first half, she had a startling realization; you were dropping back too, playing a number-10 role. It meant that she couldn’t do what she did last time you met, because there would be a gaping hole where she covers.

United was leading 1-0 by halftime, and while they had the advantage, the fight was far from over.

“Okay, ladies. Have a drink and take a seat,” Marc stood at the front of the dressing room. “We’re doing good, we’re holding them off. Keep up the pressure.”

Ona sat back to catch her breath. You were much more versatile than she thought, and maybe that was her mistake for underestimating you. It seemed too easy that you were giving her exactly what she wanted, playing high at the flank like she always does. There was more to it, but she needed to adapt.

Ona held your gaze for a moment across the field. You weren’t giving up. It seemed you were confident enough in whatever wicked plan you still had up your sleeve, that you sent her a smirk back.

It was the 70th minute of the game and they were so close to achieving it. Katie was looking for a pass, so Ona made herself available.

There was empty space near the side of the box, and she wanted to utilize it but it meant having to get past a couple of defenders.

“Vilde! 1, 2!” She called, passed the ball to her teammate, and started running. Her momentum was halted when Vilde’s ball was cut off and instantly launched forward.

The counterattack came so quickly, it must have been what you practiced. 1-1.

Suddenly, the tides have shifted. The momentum was with City. Time was running out, and the sudden goal disoriented her team. It took about five minutes for everyone to get their head back into the game, but Ona could tell City were used to having possession by then.

And then, in the 88th minute, you were given the ball from the left. Everyone except Alessia had dropped back to defend a series of dangerous balls up until now. You didn’t have anyone to pass to without getting intercepted, and you were outside of the box. So you took the shot. She watched helplessly as the ball flew past Mary into the top right corner.

1-2.

Ona’s body ran cold as she watched you celebrate with your teammates.

When the final whistle came shortly after, she collapsed on her knees.

Some of her teammates were there to console her, but she let their comfort pass through her. She needed to break something.

She needed to get away from everyone and found a spot near the bathrooms where she could catch her breath. Her boots were dangling from her hand by the laces. She slumped against a wall and began to cry, the boots clattering next to her on the floor.

It wasn’t that she was sad to have lost—she blamed herself for letting you get to her head. The interaction of the day before got her thinking what ifs. What if we didn’t meet under these circumstances? What if I could have just gotten to know you without wanting to rip your head off every time I see you?

You heard quiet sobs down the hallway and knew it was her. You had quickly gone into the tunnel when you didn’t see her anywhere on the pitch, but you certainly weren’t expecting to see her cry.

“Batlle?” You called.

She didn’t seem to notice you, sitting against the wall and wiping her face with her shirt.

“Hey, it’s okay.” That was a stupid thing to say considering you just beat her out of a Champions League spot, of course it’s not okay.

“I’m really not in the mood,” she said, looking away.

“You did good out there,” you said, watching her anxiously.

“Don’t act like you care,” she sniffled. “You got what you wanted.”

“I’m not as heartless as you think, Ona.” You quipped back. “I’m not sorry that we won, but I am sorry that you’re hurt.”

“Why are you doing this to me?” She sobbed and glared at you. It sent a chill down your bones. “I wish we had never met.”

How do you tell her that you never meant for things to go this way? That every word you had ever said to her didn’t stem from malice but from fear? You had wished to push her away so that you don’t collide with her head-on. How do you tell her that no matter how hard you tried, you still gravitated toward her?

“I’m sorry.” You repeated, like a fool.

She was hurting because of you.

You snuck a glance at the form of the girl in front of you, like you would be penalized if you were caught looking at her. You took a step back to go, but she held onto your arm and pulled your body against her.

You had been fantasizing about having your mouth against her for months, usually in absurd circumstances, like you two making out in a bed of roses or you giving her a kiss after she, a masked superhero, saved you from danger. Never like this, muscles aching, sweat coating your foreheads, wearing your respective uniforms—being so you doing this.

You wanted to enjoy it. Her lips were soft and salty, and she might have secured you by the waist against her. Your knees trembled as you sighed into her lips, pushing her against the wall gently. Your hesitancy soon turned into hunger, as you pressed your body into hers, desperate to feel her.

Murmurs in the distance snapped you out of it. “Where’s Ona?” You made out one of the voices saying.

You looked back at her, your faces just inches away. You never noticed, but she had so many beautiful freckles adorning her face.

“Ona—“ You said, but she quickly picked up her boots and left towards the voices.

Chest heaving and head spinning, you slumped against the wall with a small grin, bringing your fingers up to touch your lips where she had been.

“Where have you been?” Keira asked in the dressing room, but you just shook your head.

“Just to the bathroom.”

Sky Sports: Man City’s Talisman Y/N Y/L/N Nets Stunning Late Goal Against Man United To Secure UWCL Spot […]

a/n: this gif is so y/n and ona coded

[jolalibrary]

iv. before the gold and glimmer

javier peña x f!reader | chapter four of late night texts

summary: It's the year 2000. Javi is minding his own business on the porch of his pop's ranch when a text from an unknown number vibrates his phone. The only problem is, no one knows he has a phone and no one has his number.

chapter warnings: fluff. flirting. continuous romcom vibes. an: i adore each of you who are coming along this weird and wonderful journey, we're getting closer, i promise. wordcount: 2.5k.

text key: bold is you/reader | italics is javi

I’ll be home in an hour.

I’ll be ready 

Are we going to do the crossword tonight or are you going to spend an hour flirting?

too early to comment

I’m bringing my A game. 

to flirt with me? baby you flatter me 

No. Crosswords, you fucking flirt.

hermosa did you just swear at me 

I did. Now I have to concentrate, stop distracting me. 

Javi is aware that his pop is thinking things. 

Has been since the phone conversations began. The ones initially having slotted in when the house was empty. Quiet. Just him and his thoughts banging around, occasionally punctured by him pressing the keys on his phone until the phone rang.

Now, the phone calls have bled out into quick chats on other nights (Javi’s hand over his mouth, trying to muffle a laugh). He’s caught sight of his pop’s smirk more than once.

He’s very aware that he hasn’t helped things by dropping your name into conversations.

Accidentally, at first.

Then just accepting his fate and embracing it. Talking about you as if you’re this fully fleshed thing in front of him—mentioning the news thing you’d heard, something funny you’d said. 

He even mentioned you to Murphy. Again, not on purpose. 

Steve was quick. Picking up on it immediately in their latest monthly catch-up where usually Javi listens to how amazing, disruptive and yet tiring kids are—how Miami would be good for him, and that Connie misses him. This time it segwayed suddenly into, and who might she be then, Jav? 

It had crossed his mind to play it down. To conceal you—because a part of him suspects he should hate all of it.

Before, he had always preferred secrecy. Kept the women he had been seeing behind lock and key. Partially due to the nature, the risk—now, though, he thinks he just doesn’t want to share. 

Doesn’t want to taint it. Selfishly wanting to keep you all to himself, his slice of happiness that no one can dull.

It also aids in holding himself back from falling over the cliff, tumbling into ruin because he let himself get ahead of himself. 

Feel too much, too quick, because Javi didn’t even know what you looked like. Hadn’t eyed you up across a bar, hadn’t spotted you in the aisle of the store.

You’d stumbled into his life.

No reason, no real cause or explanation, and now he’s not entirely sure as to why he feels the amount he does. That he cares, that he likes you. How that when he talks to you, he feels only happy, content and joy—like he could do and be anything.

You provide the key to the semblance of normalcy he’s been longing for. Liking what others would think is mundane, like about your day. Now he longs for it all face to face, where he can read your face instead of dissecting your voice. 

She’s just someone I’ve been talking to. Don’t—don’t even know her, really.  You knew all the others well before? Fuck off, Murphy.  Just sayin’, sometimes, shit just don’t make sense, Jav. 

Steve says it as though it answers all his problems. 

Like he thinks the words will make all the pieces click into place, suddenly cemented and real—all understood and no longer complex. 

But it’s all still very much messy—a tangling of feelings that ready exist and more which threaten to come.

In truth, he doesn’t mind the complications of it all. He just thinks it’s best to protest it a little. Pretend he hasn’t abandoned all logic just because someone made him smile and feel a little less broken.

Because he knew, just like those around him, that he was done for. 

It all perfectly evidenced by the fact he doesn’t mind when his pop begins giving him one of those smirks more often than not—the ones surrounded by wiry white hair, partnered with a knowing look on his face. The same conversation circling, the one that’s been going on for days now—

“When the two of you meeting?”  “I don’t know, pop.”  “You made plans to see her yet?” “No, pop.”  “You should go see her. You need a break.” “Pop.” 

At some stage, his pop stops beginning it—challenging him. Now he just signals the words with a look. One he assumes parents are given when their child enters the world—the one that is part knowing and part ‘you know you’re going to do what I’m saying, anyway’.

Javi hates that more than he hates the rest of the situation. 

Because his pop isn’t wrong. He wants to see you, watch your expressions instead of imagining them. 

Not just to see what you look like, but so that he can see how you react when he says certain things. Whether you scrunch your nose or your lips curl before you smile; whether you hide your face when he embarrasses you, or whether you fold your arms and pout. 

Each time the two of you text or call, he thinks it—wants to bring it up and ask.

A need in him growing, in the same way his feelings do. Multiplying, quivering in his bones when you laugh, and it travels straight to his heart—making it swell and bloom. Filling the expanse of his chest until he isn’t sure he can feel any more happiness. 

Picking up the phone on the first ring, he hears your usual chirpy hey, which he follows with his now usual: “Hey baby.” 

“¿Cómo estás, Javi?”

“Ay, you’ve been practising.” 

Hearing you laugh makes him smile. Unknots the stresses of the day from him as he pulls the chair over—sitting on it as his head rests against the wall. 

“I purchased a Spanish for kids book, so that’s my skill level.” 

Smirking, he rolls his lips. “You trying for me?” 

“Sí.”

Snorting, he rubs the bridge of his nose. “Eres tan linda, baby.” 

“I know the last word means darling.” 

“I said you are very cute.” 

You pause, a shuffling sound coming from your side of the phone before the softest of sighs. “You’re making me blush, again.” 

“You make it too easy.” 

“Stop,” you say, all fake warning and all likely accompanied by a cute smile, “How’s your day been—tell me you got a splinter in your ass?” 

Smirking, he slumps further into the chair, legs spread, spare hand resting on his thigh. “Starting to think you only talk to me for my body.”

The laugh you let out is closer to a howl, and his cheeks hurt from hearing it—his grin so large, it doesn’t fade for hours. 

apprehensive feeling, 5 

Come on, Javi. 

I think it may be angst 

If I were there I’d kiss your cheek. 

I know you mean that in a nice way but it feels demeaning 

Oh no I meant it as the latter. 

is that how we’re being

You tell me. 

paris divider, 5 

Seine. You ever been to Paris?

no have you 

Not yet. 

not yet? 

Well there’s always time. Heard it’s a romantic place to go.

maybe if you were nicer someone would take you 

You make a good point. 

things go ok this morning

Not like I wanted but not the worst. I can apply but they’re playing the experience card again. 

bullshit, you ok

I will be. Thank you for checking in on me. 

you can tell me if youre not yknow

I just need to destress is all. It’s like talking to a fucking wall sometimes.

fuck I love it when you swear 

Javi, stop. 

do you really want me to 

No. But you’re making my face burn. 

bet you look real pretty getting embarrassed 

I actually do not, so you should stop so you don’t inflict the face on others. 

I don’t believe you

Maybe one day you’ll see it for yourself so you can believe me 

wish one day was today 

Why would you destress me? 

baby I’d make sure you couldn’t even think the word stress never mind feel it 

You confident in that? 

youll have to find out

Something was different in the air the moment he woke up. 

Things went far easier than they normally would. No one tried to bowl him over during feeding. The fence he went to check on didn’t look all that bad—and there wasn’t even a queue when he visited the homeware store for pop. 

There also wasn’t a rain cloud in the sky.

And it put him on edge. 

His gut—the one he had relied on to take down the narcos—flared back to life. It could be a good day, a once-in-a-blue moon, a blessing in a sea of disguise. 

But rationality didn’t stop him from checking over his shoulder, do a final sweep of the land. 

It had been like that when he’d first gotten back. All on edge, finding it difficult to settle. He had smoked back then, worse than he had done when he’d been over in Colombia. It’s why he’d chosen to quit.

Now, he rotated the phone between his finger and thumb, feeling it vibrate against his palm, checking if it was you before he allows the smile—the one you pull from him by just texting him—blossom. 

So I have good news and I have bad news lead with the bad first I can’t call you on Thursday night

His heart drops, plummets. 

A part of him knew something bad was around the corner. Taking in your text, over and over. Checking he understood it as he climbed the stairs up the porch. 

Javi rolls his head on his neck, staring up—the flies around the porch light buzzing away as he tries to compose himself. 

Somehow always knowing that deep down, this day would come. His mind is too quick to act, abruptly busy with conjuring thoughts. That old analytical part of him whirs back to life as it tries to make heads or tails of the situation in front of him, as though it was a case.

Because he suspects that your good news is that you have a date—someone you’ve seen face to face and has swept you off your feet. A person who will take you away from him because he can’t offer you that.

Plus, you don’t even know him.

Not really. 

He’s just this person you text. 

This person he feels…

well fuck. The good news best be the best news ever I think it is. Don’t tease me Says you, baby.

Baby?

It takes him a second. 

The four letters blowing all the conjured theories well and truly out of the water. 

His eyes trace over the letters, even after he’s sent the reply. Javi’s heart suddenly in his throat, pulse in his ear—the blood banging around. 

Shut up. Anyway I can’t call you because I’ll be on an early flight in the morning to Houston. Work needs me to check out some odd sales. You’ll be in Texas? Yeah. So the good news is, if you meant what you said, we could meet in person.

He swallows, spine straightening—posture suddenly pristine, making the muscles in his back ache from the day as they flex and tighten under his shirt. 

You want to meet him. 

Or he thinks. 

Not wanting to read between the lines—needing the confirmation, to hear you say it. His shirt begins to cling to his back, hair falling over his forehead as sweat grows, strands of hair being grasped against his skin.

You want to meet me? Of course, I’m the one suggesting it. But if you don’t, that’s fine. I mean, I’ll begin judging how lonely you actually are if you don’t. But it’s fine.

His thumbs aren’t quick enough. 

Each text firing in—and he wishes, more than he usually does, that he could be there with you. Clutch your cheek, assure you, make you breathe—

baby breathe. I want to meet you, I do But? but nothing

Even if there is. 

There seems like there’s a but

Javi doesn’t mean to, but he laughs. 

Somehow, miles away—you can already read him. Know him. His thumb massaging his nose, wrist hiding his smile from the world. 

I’m nervous about the fact you could see me and never want to speak to me again You think I’m that shallow? No. It’s just you’ve been the best thing about my day in a long, long time, hermosa Call me. it’s late isn’t it Javi. 

He moves, the chair he had been on almost toppling over as he opens the storm door and then the next. Moving into the kitchen, not even needing to pull your number up. He knows it. 

It’s burned into him. 

The receiver meets his ear as you answer in record time as your voice greets his ears. Followed by a sigh when he greets you in a low-whisper.

“Javi, I feel the same.” 

He swallows. “Yeah?” 

Silence greets him before you do a soft laugh. That little one he’s begun noticing you do when you later tell him you’ve just nodded or shrugged—forgetting he can’t see down the phone. 

“I wanted you to call so you could hear it. That I want to meet you because I can’t stop thinking about you. And that might be insane, and odd. But… I like you. I feel things.” 

“I know,” he says, pressing his forehead against the wall—eyes closing, hand tightening around the phone. “I like you, too.” 

Javi hears it. The discernible way you relax. 

It comes across in the way you take a breath, in the way he suddenly feels his own shoulders slide from his ears. 

“But if it’s too soon, I can use some time off—“

“No, cariño. No. I… I want to. I’ll be there.” 

You swallow—loud in the silence. Almost clunky. “I’m scared too.” 

Opening his eyes, he stares at the peeling paint. Something running over him, from his head to his feet. It whispers to relax, to breathe—allowing him fully to do both. 

“You could… I don’t know, see me and find I don’t match the image of me you’ve created. Or, find me horribly boring. Or that I’m actually the strangest person. It’s scary. I’m scared too.” 

He nods, smiling to himself. “I’ll pick you up from the airport.”

“You don’t have to—“

“Baby.” It silences you, and the thought makes him smile. “I’ll pick you up from the airport, okay?”

It takes a beat. 

A full ten seconds. 

“We’re going to meet,” you say softly, almost wistfully. 

And it cracks then, a smile. A real one. His usual one. Turning on the spot, pressing his back against the wall, head meeting it as he lets the grin spread into his cheeks, almost to his eyes if his thumb and finger didn’t begin rubbing them. 

“We’re gonna meet,” he replies.

Opening his eyes, seeing the noticeable flicker of the television—its shimmering light flittering through the doorway, illuminating his pop, who is standing smiling at him. 

AN: remember, if you wish to see the deleted 18+ scene for the birthday bash, be sure to check back on 8th of July, otherwise see you next Tuesday 

next ->

[wonwoonlight]

finding love / kim mingyu

a/n: mingyu brain rot bc i dreamt of him last night and ive never felt so loved 😭😭😭😭 first fic of the year! not proofread bc im too lazy. Enjoy🤍 do tell me if u enjoy this??? Hello???

wc: 1.1k // just some musings about love // fluff // super very soft // i dont think theres any warning except that i want him NOW.

[ ♤♤♤ ]

You don't know love until Kim Mingyu.

It's not anything as dramatic as you not believing in it. You just really haven't found the right person, nor have you been trying to look for one. Which is why it's a wonder that you end up with someone as wonderful as Kim Mingyu.

Your meeting with him wasn't anything special either. It's nothing out of a fiction; it's not exciting and it's not magical. It's just you, being Chan's friend and introduced to the members when he invited you to their concert and you visited the backstage once it finished.

It wasn't an instant click either, you just ended up talking individually somehow and the relationship progressed as time passed by.

You don't know love until Kim Mingyu.

He holds your hand when you're afraid even if you don't say anything.

He holds your hand when you're afraid even if he's afraid.

You both hate horror movies with passion, but once in a blue moon you two would challenge yourself just to see if it has changed. Every single time Mingyu would brace it and watch through everything just so he can tell you when to close your eyes and when it's okay to open them again.

You don't know love until Kim Mingyu.

He would listen to everything you talk about. From your complain about your coworkers, to your random ramble about some stuff you see on Instagram reels.

He listens.

He always does.

Because one day you're talking about how it's been quite some time since you've eaten lasagna and the next dinner Mingyu bakes lasagna for you himself.

He listens.

Because when you mention once in passing to your friend, to which Mingyu only listens partly to because you're on the phone and doesn't realize he's already awoken from his nap, that you've always wanted to try snorkeling, Mingyu arranges for it immediately once he finds a suitable date for you both.

You don't know love until Kim Mingyu.

He finds time to contact you in midst of busy schedules, and always tells you beforehand if he's going to be too busy to reach out in any way. You've told him plenty of times that you understand and that he doesn't need to reassure you everytime, but you've also told him once long before you started dating that you're the type to welcome words of assurance more than anything.

So he continues to reassure you everytime he can.

“What do you think about this?” Mingyu asks, yet again in another set of outfits.

You don't know shit about fashion, and you think Mingyu looks good in everything because he knows how to dress himself well. This is something that he's aware of, but he also likes your validation so you always try your best to say anything other that “You look good” and “I like this better than the previous one”.

“I think… you know I like it best when you're in black so I'm not sure if your current outfit is actually better than the black one or not.” You say sheepishly, to which Mingyu laughs at.

Your heart skips a beat at the sound of his laughter, something that hasn't changed despite having dated him for almost a year now. He makes his way to you and engulf you in a hug, whispers something that sounds suspiciously like “you're so cute” though he doesn't admit it because you don't like being called cute.

“Hmm.. Maybe I should go for the black one.” He says as he looks at himself in the mirror once again.

“What? No! Wear what you think is best. You know I have zero sense of fashion.”

“You like it, though.”

“I like you. You know you can wear the ugliest shirt out there and I'll still like it.”

Mingyu freezes and you see the tips of his ears turning red. You don't always say your feelings out loud, and when you do, it always hits a soft spot within him. And for all the cheesy comments Mingyu always parades to his fans, he's actually bad at receiving them himself.

You would usually jump at this opportunity to tease him, but you're feeling especially soft today, so you walk up next to him and tiptoes to kiss his cheek.

“I appreciate your sentiment, but don't trust me this time around, okay?” You chuckle and cup his warm face before dropping a peck on his lips.

“Alright…” He presses his lips together and goes for another kiss. “You'll really like everything…?”

And as much as Mingyu reassures you, you reassure him back.

“I like you. So you can wear anything, and I'll like it as long as it's not something weird like a dragon costume or something.”

Mingyu succumbs with a shy smile and hides his face in your neck.

You don't know love until Kim Mingyu.

He's brought you happiness that you didn't know existed. He always makes your bad days good and your good days even better.

You automatically look for him when something makes you laugh, a part of you always wishes to share your happiness with him no matter where he is. You also look for him when you're not feeling your best, because one look and Mingyu knows you need him beside you, his arms enveloping you to ground yourself to him, and his deep voice reminds you that things are going to be okay.

“Does it bother you?” Seungkwan asks one day. You, him, Mingyu, and Seungcheol are chilling in Mingyu's dorm.

“What?” You return his question, getting more comfortable on the sofa. You're leaning against Seungcheol's shoulder, as Mingyu is too busy playing something on his phone and you don't want to restrict his movement by leaning into him.

“The… you know. Whispers. What people say?”

“About me and Mingyu?” You make sure. Your relationship isn't public, but you know some people in his company doesn't exactly approve of his choice of a girlfriend even though their opinions don't matter.

“Yeah…”

You hum as you look at Mingyu, sitting comfortably on the floor near Seungkwan. He comments on how random the younger guy's question is, but doesn't seem too bothered by it.

Something pleasant settles in your chest as you continue looking at him, your smile growing when the answer to Seungkwan's question pops in your mind.

“Not really, no.” You turn to him with a smile, your voice firm with security. “I know Mingyu loves me and that's enough.”

You don't know love until Kim Mingyu.

Because he loves you with everything he has to offer and beyond, never once failing to let you know his feelings haven't wavered.

Because you want to do everything for him even if you're not able to, your heart always finding a way to be with him even when he's not next to you.

[wandsandwheezes]

NASCAR IV | G.W //F.W

WARNINGS // 8.6k // SMUT 18+, George x Reader // Fred x unnamed OC, Angry Fred, Racer!George, light angst, fighting, rough sex, soft sex, breeding kink af, mentions of alcohol, cars, sex, possession, praise kink, a (tiny) amount of degradation, oral, unprotected sex.

A/N // Ladies n gents we are back n better than everrr!! This has legit been sat in the WIPs for a year and I have not had the energy or motivation to get back to it until now. ps.. thank you to @darthwheezely for helping me out on this one as my co-writer, idk what i'd do without you!! pps.. stay tuned for more works in the future!

It was always good to be home. As much as George adored being on the road, there was something so blissful about waking up in his own bed, with the woman of his dreams curled tightly into his chest. This was what made it worth it. 

“Good morning, muffin,” you muttered peacefully, hand reaching up to push the messy tufts of hair from his sleepy eyes. He threw his head back and groaned at your use of the corny nickname so early in the morning.

“That divorce and sweet sweet alimony cannot come soon enough,” he grinned, soon getting whacked in the face by the pillow next to you, his own hand reaching to pull you by the scruff of your neck into a sloppy kiss. 

Like most mornings, George was already out of bed, walking around aimlessly in his low-slung plaid pj bottoms as he searched sleepily for either his shop uniform or at the very least something that would easily pass without Fred throwing a fit.

“Are you sure you want to leave me?” You teased, pushing yourself out of bed, letting his t-shirt fall past your hips as your feet patted along the wood floors, taking you to him. You wrap your arms around his waist groggily, forehead resting against his back as you take in his warmth.

“I’m never sure about leaving you, angel, I doubt you’ll take much convincing if I suggest lunch?”

“I’ll make your favourite sandwich and swing by later, yeah?” You smiled, giggling as he spun you around, strong hands holding your arms as he leaned down to kiss you.

“They say you’re the lucky one, but lord, woman you make me the luckiest.” 

The sun was not Fred’s friend today. But honestly: no one was Fred’s friend today, not when the sun was over a hundred and two degrees in a shop with shitty A/C with his wife away playing hostess for god knows how many interviewees in that pretty black dress.

He probably wouldn’t even be this angry if she hadn’t been an insufferable prime American tease, waking up to her lips wrapped around the base of his cock and sending delicious vibrations throughout his body before pulling off right as he was about to release:

“You’ve got work today, ace, I need you to be a good boy.”

So there was Fred, as horny as a fourteen year old, deprived as a fourteen year old, and about as pouty as a toddler. Even George knew how pissy his brother had been, eyeing him rather sharply. 

“You know, Freddie, It would be nice to come into work one day with you having not woken up on the wrong side of bed.” George chuckled, pulling up the bottom of his already oil-stained shirt to wipe at his jaw. The older twin stalked around him and hit him in the chest with his rag.

“Actually, I was sleeping quite well on my lovely and rosy smelling side of the bed until I got fucking booted like a small boy and-” he was briefly aware of George laughing at him and made to punch his younger brother over the hood. “- it’s not funny, you know...it’s…” he swallowed, the familiar feeling of his strawberry tint rising to the surface, “...ithasn’tbeenasrecentasyou and before you ask me how I know that, remember you’re the other half of my DNA in mum’s womb,” he childishly spat. He slid into the driver’s seat of the Mustang they were working on and began drumming the dash, his knee bouncing against the side door - a tell tale sign of his frustration.

“I thought we established that you are in fact half of my DNA, just because you were born first doesn’t mean shit.” George rolled his eyes, throwing the rag on top of the car before joining his brother in the passenger seat.

“No, because I, in fact, am the prettier twin, which means I not only had sex first, but also get more privileges such as Denny’s coupons, discounted smoothies, and more phone calls with my mother than you.” Spotting you walk into the workshop area he honked the horn a couple times and giggled, whistling when you walked in.

“Ahoy my lovely sister-in-law!” He grinned and honked once more, a loud and obnoxious greeting - so uniquely Fred.

Rolling up to the side of the car, you laughed, seeing George rub at his temples, sighing to himself over the continuous blaring horn. You leaned in against the window, poking your head into the car with a smile, pressing a kiss to George’s cheek while Fred’s smile dropped, his face forming into a stare of jealousy, quickly forcing a smile again to hide his obvious frustrations. 

“Oi! Get a bloody room you two!” He huffed, honking loudly when George leaned in to kiss you again.

“Do you mind?” George gritted out.

“Yes, a bit, actually, you may have the back office for now to do somewhat lovey and sinful things but please try to be discreet, kids!” He winked salaciously and leaned forward against the wheel, his elbow cocked on the dash as he fought to not think about destroying his wife to be the second she got home. Usually racing helped, kept his mind (and libido) wandering if he felt a bit pent up - but at least for a few months or so, there wouldn’t be any release. The thought alone had him throw his head back and groan in displeasure.

“I brought lunch, wanna eat with me?” You grinned, batting your eyelashes, a move that practically had George falling out of the car, grabbing your hand as he followed you out to the back office. It was definitely hotter in the back, if you were being honest, yet that had nothing to do with the blazing sunshine but the way your fiance could have practically drank you in whole by the way he was staring. 

“Stop staring, George, your eyes will go square.” You laughed, setting your bag on the table, pulling out the sandwich you had made for him, pushing it into his chest as you pulled out your own lunch. 

“You know that doesn’t work with staring at humans right? Just TVs.” George retorted, walking backwards before plopping himself down on the sofa. “You didn’t happen to bring my-” You had already reached into your bag, pulling out his water bottle, something he not only had a habit of leaving at home but something he nearly always drank with lunch. Props to him for staying hydrated but after so long together you had managed to pick up on nearly all of the smaller things about him. 

“What would I do without you, huh?” He smiled, taking the bottle from your hand as you slipped onto the sofa next to him, legs swinging over his thighs as you unwrapped your sandwich. This was normal for you, reminding you of the days before racing and before America, a part of you growing fond of those memories. 

“You seem lost, Angel.” He muttered, hand reaching up to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear, a worried look painting his expression. Shaking your head at him, you pulled yourself up to be straddling his hips, your nose bumping against his softly before capturing his lips into a kiss. 

A part of both of you needed this, the locked lips while his hands held your hips in their place, effortlessly controlling the way they would rut against his growing bulge, both desperate for the friction. He was moaning into your mouth, his hips bucking up to meet yours as the innocence in the kiss quickly slipped away, his own desperation to have you ruling how his hands had practically ripped your shirt off of you, his lips messily pressed against the newly exposed skin of your chest. 

“Shit, baby, I just wanna get those tight little fucking shorts off of you.” He groaned, hand snaking up to tangle in the hair at the back of your head as your hips continued grinding relentlessly. You were ultimately putty in his hands, moldable and pliant only for his skilled grip and teasing touch. 

“No time for that though.” He chuckled, his quick fingers effortlessly slipping the material to the side before the pad of his thumb found your clit, rubbing in teasing circular motion, a loud and lewd groan falling from his lips at the feel of just how wet you were already. Your hand flew to his mouth, finger pressed against his plump lips to keep him silent.

“Not so much noise, Georgie.” You giggled, a faint moan falling from your lips as his fingers began to tease your entrance. Your own warnings of silence had fallen short the second you found yourself wrapped around his fingers, his long digits pulling desperate moans from you by the second.

“Not so much noise, angel.” 

—

The elder twin had watched his brother follow you out, had seen the way his twin’s eyes had smoothed over the curve of your ass, how he’d admired your shorts and in utter and complete disdain Fred kicked the inside of the car. It was dumb, the way he was wishing he could have his girl thrown in front of a bathroom counter and force her to watch him fuck that pretty pretty cunt of his, and unknowingly slid his hand down to his jeans and started to palm.

His jaw was clenched at the thought of her slutty little stunt she pulled this morning when they both knew how wet she would get when she had her mouth around him, and gritted in a groan as he squeezed his clothed erection.

“God, fuck, love,” he panted, unbuttoning and unzipping his jeans half way to slide his boxers down, his cock springing free instantly. He thought about how her cunt fit perfectly to his cock, how no matter how many times he’d slipped deliciously into her, she always seemed just as tight as the first time, meanwhile his hand loosely pumped back and forth on his shaft. This was pathetic, he knew it was pathetic, but still the idea of her underneath him while her breasts heaved and her smokey chocolate hair was strewn about the pillow had him grunting.

“God, I’m so surprised you’re not pregnant yet, with the amount of cum I stuff you with and the rounds we do in a day,” he growled, all eleven inches sunk deep into her.

“Oh, shit, baby, god, you feel so good,” he panted, his thumb tightly rolling small circles on his tip. 

“Want it so bad, baby, wanna be so full and round soon as we can,” she had moaned, arching so far into his hold that he had thrusted at the same time a nipple brushed his lips and into his mouth, biting the sensitive flesh and causing her to whine.

“Such a fucking whore,” he snarled, his hips bucking up to meet each stroke of his fist, his head thrown back in ecstasy as he imagined his palm to be nothing but her - no, his - soft and soaked pussy. 

His hips were jerking at the speed of sound, he didn’t really care if anyone else could hear, if anything it made him more turned on, let ‘em hear, he could give less of a shit and especially if she were here, he’d make damn sure everyone from Houston to L.A. knew exactly which racer she was getting boned by each and every night.

“Freddie, honey, please, I need you to so bad,”

“I’m right behind you, baby, goddamnit so fucking good,” and with a faint shout of her name he released, his dick twitching under his own rough touch, his eyes screwed shut at his own frustration, none of it was real, the memory of it and the smell of sweaty sex in not only hotel rooms but in cars across the country dimming his mind back to square one. He laughed harshly at his own predicament, assessing his own situation before whistling lowly.

“Fuck, I need a drive.”

—

“George, for the love of God, stop fuckin’ with the carburetor, we already checked it an hour ago,” Fred whined, leaning against the back of the car. The day had been relatively slow beyond that one car, the hour approaching about 4:30, Fred eagerly awaiting until those hands hit 6.

“We did? I could have sworn we didn’t but I wouldn’t know, would I?” George rolled his eyes, pushing himself away from under the hood, heading over to you to take the tool you aimlessly held from your hands, not before his hands pressed against your neck, pulling you into a quick kiss.

Fred went to retort, interrupted only by the grizzly rotary of the engine rev close by. He knew exactly what the sound was, the same kind of rev that ecologists blamed on the hole in the ozone, the smell lewd and hungry for attention. 

It wasn’t just any old car, it had to be for racing. And sure enough it was, two in fact, fully souped up in high gear and brand new paint blinding in the Arizona sun. Fred held a hand above his eyebrows to see who it was, and George leaned back around Fred trying to do the same thing. When the cars pulled up and swerved albeit messily into the lot the twins broke into grins.

“Is that-?”

“-yeah, it’s-”

And then the car doors opened, one man rather lanky and lean and the other shorter and stocky, the rather lean one putting both his hands on his hips and clucking: “Well, I’ll be damned, freshen up then lads,” and grinned mischievously.

“DEAN!”

“SEAMUS!” They both yelled and jumped at their friends, a chorus of rowdy hugs and how are yous being traded from each of the boys.

“Alright then, boys?” Seamus quipped.

“Well, Jesus, we sure hope so, haven’t seen you since, shit what March?” George ran a hand through his hair, looking at Fred to confirm that and he nodded in response.

“Sounds about right, we’ve had to keep to ourselves - don’t want a bust like what happened to Diggory, y’know,” Seamus smirked.

“That arsehole from - shit what was his sponsor, Georgie?”

“Wonderbread,”

“Yeah, I never liked him, hits on everything that moves he does, my girl included,” Fred made his way to their mini-fridge swinging out a couple of bottled cane-sugar Coke (the only kind he and his wife ever drank, unfortunately for their bank account), and distributing them to each of the boys, passing around the bottle opener.

Dean scoffed. “Fred, you think everyone flirts with your girl and Y/N.”

“I’m a protective man, Thomas, not my fault I see a douche bag and-”

“Anyway,” George cut him off, leaving a rather pouty Fred in his place, and leaning back to sit on the hood of the car. “What brings you two ‘round then?”

Seamus and Dean visibly held their bottles a little tighter, then looked at each other.

“Well, we um...we have this thing we do on Thursdays down behind Tucson-” Seamus started.

“-not the raceway...it’s a bit more shifty, if you get it.” Dean finished, taking a swig of Coke. George studied the two for a second and finally leaned back on the car hood.

“Boys, what is this?” He asked softly, Fred shifting uncomfortably on the minifridge.

Seamus opened his mouth again, his face a great shade of crimson when Dean leapt in again.

“We do it in secret because if Indy or Nascar found out we’d all be dead but...we never really stopped racing you know. We just...we do it in the backwoods area of town-”

“Where it’s basically just sand and flat land for miles,” Seamus added, nodding vehemently. 

“Count me in.” Fred spoke quickly, pushing himself up off the mini fridge and over to the two boys, a smirk hanging off his lips in anticipation of being able to put his foot to the floor again on a track, albeit a dirt-road track, it was a course nevertheless.

“Yeah, no, Fred you can’t, if the Wood Brothers find out you are never racing again.” George cut in, fingers pressed to his temple in fear of his brother’s own recklessness.

“Come on, baby brother, I think you need to loosen up a little, what do you think, y/n?” Fred’s smirk only grew as he raised his eyebrow, hoping to entice the younger twin into his lure.

“You know, Georgie, I think it would be good for you and Fred to race together, you know, just for fun...” You shrugged, staking over to George, arms wrapping around his waist, as you looked up at him with a pout.

“I suppose if those two big brains can still have jobs, we’ll be fine, right?” George sighed, feeling himself giving in, purely from a look from his girlfriend.

“That’s the spirit!” Dean smirked, a smile cracking up on Seamus’ lips as the four boys looked among each other, almost silently communicating a plan until they had erupted with laughter.

—

The clock had said 9:34, roughly 26 minutes before Fred would be ecstatically waiting for George outside his studio apartment. His neck was tilted upwards, covered in shaving cream with a bath towel wrapped loosely around his waist. The sink was littered with expensive cologne and aftershave, the first purchase he ever made after his first check at the shop, his scalpel grifting smoothly up his jawline. 

Fred had learned very early on that preparation was absolutely everything, and after his little twelfth place charade - he felt his mates needed to remember that he was, for all intents and purposes, that bitch. 

“Fred, baby, you home?” He heard her call out, the clanging of keys falling into the empty fishbowl on the coffee table.

“Yeah, cupcake, I’m in here,” he called out stiffly, listening to her start to rant on about the interviews at hand - none of them were ever any fun, he’d been to enough to learn that all they cared about were raunchy questions geared at his wife and female reporters flirting with him in front of studio audiences. 

“...and god my feet were killing me, she wanted to walk with me all the way down the block and-“ she stopped analyzing his posture, his broad and freckled back still slightly covered in drops from the shower, his V-line angled to the side to a point where if she tugged on his hips juuuust right it would be sure to drop in one fell swoop, combined with the fact that he was shaving. 

“Honey?” 

“Yes, dear?” He side eyed her and smirked before turning his eyes back to the mirror, finishing the last of the area around his upper jaw and by his cheekbones.

“Are you going somewhere tonight?” She questioned, standing next to him now, looking at him directly through the mirror. He licked his lips at the sight of her minorly aggressive position and broke contact.

“Just for a bit, love, I’ll be back probably when you’re asleep.”

“And were you planning on telling me?”

“And were you planning on being a tease this morning after I gave you such a lovely time last night?”

He watched her mouth open and close as if she were about to say something and faltered, and snorted. “Yes, exactly, I thought so,” he said, turning around to grab a hand towel, splashing water on his face to rinse off the cream.

“Oh...I see what this is,” she purred. He stopped and slowly pulled his face up to the sink, setting a hand down on the sink to ground him from the massive hard on that was occurring under his towel, and turning towards her.

“What was that?” 

“I think you’re a pent up, horny teenager that doesn’t like being told no,” she smiled cruelly at him and watched as Fred’s jaw tensed ever so slightly. 

He rolled it gently and went to move past her but she was quicker, and pushed him backward with five painted red nails to his chest. She looked up at him and roughly scratched down his torso, causing Fred to hiss at the fresh red stripes. She slid a hand up his chest and stopped at the column of his throat, gripping ever so slightly, before leaning up to kiss him and pulling away just so he could feel her exhale.

“Have a nice night, Freddie,” she whispered before quirking a brow and grinning, prancing off to their bedroom alone.

When she was out of earshot he shakily breathed out, trying to steady his breathing and his yearning cock - he’d deal with her later for sure, regardless of his behavior or not.

It was 9:32, approximately 28 minutes before George would pick him up outside his studio apartment…

—

The twins arrived at around 10:15, the drive there filled with only uncomfortable silence at what was to come. George was a bit pissed to say the least, once again Fred was getting his way for an adrenaline run, and this time Y/N had backed him up.

George’s last place he would be right now is behind the wheel of his own fucking car.

He parked it next to Dean’s sleek, jet black chevy, his hands gripping the steering wheel ever so slightly as he leaned back against the headrest.

“You realize if we get caught we could never race again, right?” George prompted quietly.

“Here’s an idea; don’t.” Fred rolled his eyes, reaching over to flick his brother in the ear, eyebrows raised playfully.

“Yeah, no shit, sherlock.” George grumbled, turning off the ignition, listening to the signature growl of his engine grind to a stop. 

“Why is it always such a bad idea to do anything fun once in a while, Georgie,” Fred grumbled, his knee bouncing against the floor of the car. “It’s not like we’ve had anything to do as of late, you know.”

“Of course, besides, hmm, I dunno, not making our sponsors upset? By like possibly following the very slight and basic set of rules we’ve been given?” George snipped, his fingers drumming on the steering wheel. He sighed to himself and went to get out of the car when Fred grabbed his arm.

“Hey, you agreed to this too, you know-”

“Yes, at the behest of my lovely fiance and my snot nosed, ant thorax of a barely older brother and as such, I’m driving this thing when this shit factory of a drag race starts.” He whacked Fred’s arm away and exited the car, immediately all but smiles on his face as he went to greet his friends, a sporadic and adrenaline heated Fred on his tail.

“Well if it isn’t the two most obnoxious bastards in NASCAR,” Fred turned to see his best friend and ex-pit crew member, Roger Davies, and excitedly gripped him in a hug, hands clapping backs and tears falling down cheeks at the renewal of friendship.

“Georgie! Look, it's Rog!”

“Holy shit, not my first husband-!”

“Your only husband, Weasley number 5, and Fred can disagree all he wants,” Roger grinned and pulled both boys into a hug before whispering in their ear, “watch out for Finnegan and Thomas, boys, the cheating hasn’t stopped since last season,” leaving the twins utterly confused.

“Oi! Not another sleepover without me?” Boomed Dean from behind them. Roger immediately pushed past the two entirely confused twins and went to clap Dean on the back.

“Just getting them acquainted with the rules before a race...you know how hard it is to follow all the rules, don’t you, mate?” Roger winked and headed back to the twins, moving them back to the car as all the other drivers retreated to theirs.

“Rog, what was all that?” Fred whispered.

“Dean has been known to be a bit...well, shifty as of late with these. Always been a bit of a windy bloke, you get it, but ever since Target dropped him from the sponsorship he hasn’t really been...getting off as much in racing as he used to.” Roger nervously laughed, rubbing the back of his neck, leaning against the back of George’s car.

“By ‘cheating’ what does that entail?” George crossed his arms in repose.

“He’s always been a thrill chaser, you know this, Georgie.”

That was true, Dean had always been after a nice high. An adrenaline junkie back at primary school, Dean and Fred (as George unfortunately remembered) would feed off each other like invasive flowers, the group think of two singularly aggressive and needy young boys clouding the canopy of their friends (and brothers) with misfortune. Anything from groundings to almost arrests to nights spent aimlessly wandering the London streets in the wee hours of the morning - to Dean’s favorite: bets.

Dean would bet and bet and bet if his life depended on it and when it came to racing, if there was a bet out in his name to win, he was sure as shit going to make sure that he was the winner, this led to more and more alterations to his cars, some that even street racing frowned upon. The media never got their hands on the true reason Dean had lost his Target sponsorship; just one simple, illegal, engine part. One that gave him the lead in a race that caught him out. 

“How hasn’t someone banned him then?” George laughed, looking over at his friends, only for Roger to clear his throat with a chuckle himself.

“You can’t ban someone from street racing, Georgie, not without the authority that NASCAR has.” Roger explained, pushing away from George’s car to head towards his own. “See you on the track, boys.” 

“Track?” Fred choked over the words, confused thoroughly at this point.

“I don’t think we’re in for just a drag race, Freddie.” George gulped, watching Roger slip inside his car, the lights flashing on and the sounds of rumbling engines echoing through the air. 

—

“What do you mean I can’t drive your car.” Fred practically whined, if his eyes rolled any harder they would be in the back of his head.

“I mean what I said, dumbass, you’re not driving my car.” George protested, his arms crossing over his chest as he stood protectively in front of the driver’s side door.

“But you’d let me drive it in a drag race, that doesn’t make any sense, like at all.” 

“That was when you had to drive in a straight line, you are not putting my baby in danger just to race her round a track.”

“Your baby? George, you do realise I race too right?” 

“Fuck off. You’re not driving, that’s final.”

“Yes the fuck I am, now move.” Fred was practically pushing his brother out of the way as he tried to get himself in the driver’s seat. “Twenty minutes ago you didn’t even want to be here, now you want to drive?”

“Fine.” George sighed, finally stepping aside, only to grab the back of Fred’s shirt. “One scratch and you’ll be fixing it, either that or I’ll break you.” 

“I’m not gonna crash the car, George, now get in.” Fred slid inside the car, George following suit on the passenger side. Fred went to pull out of the space that George had parked the car in, only to stall, dropping the clutch out of excitement, causing his younger brother to yell, out loud and quickly. 

“Nope! I’m not doing this.”

“Fucking hell, George, shut up I can drive.” 

—

There was something about the way tires kicked dust up as they sped around the dirt track that had Fred on edge. This race was unlike anything he’d ever seen or been a part of before, if he was being brutally honest it was exhilarating to be doing something like this, much more so when his brother was sat in the passenger seat. He didn’t need to look over or even take his eyes off the road to know that George was already being hypercritical of Fred’s driving skills, especially when the livelihood of his pride and joy of a car lay in another’s hands.

If George were gripping the steering wheel in that moment, his knuckles would have been well and truly white, watching clouds upon clouds of dust spray over the freshly washed exterior of his car. Instead, George’s hand was dripped tightly on the door, bracing himself for the sharp corners and bumpy jolts, thinking about how all the up and down was surely going to fuck his suspension. 

Fred laughed to himself, but mostly at the way his twin was acting, almost as if George hadn’t spent most of his adult life behind the wheel of a car driving faster than any other man would dream of. Fred shouted over the roar of the engine “Jesus, Georgie, let loose a little will you?”

“I’d be way less uptight if you would have just let me drive.” George replied, sighing to himself, a small ‘woah’ falling from his mouth at the feeling of the back wheels spinning.

“It’s a bit fucking late for that decision.” Fred laughed back, passing a car that had the unfortunate and untimely end of spinning themselves off the joke of a track. Once the dust parted and George saw the mess in front of him, his eyes widened, heart racing if it could have beaten any faster.

“I will kill you if you do that.” the younger man grumbled, watching Fred speed past car after car, pushing them up the ranks. 

“I told you I won’t crash your precious car… I’m starting to think you love her more than your lovely lady.” Fred bit his lower lip to stop himself laughing at his own comment. Looking up in the rear view mirror, he spotted the glistening black and bright blue of Roger and Dean gaining on the lead the twins had.

It was nearing what Fred hoped to be the end of the track, watching as the finish line grew nearer with every second. In what seemed to be all at once, a loud revving came in from Fred’s Left, The lightning bolt blue car overtaking George’ in a matter of seconds, pushing right past the finish line without a care in the world. Following closely in second was Dean’s beauty of a car, Fred managing to keep right behind his two friends, pulling third rank in the race. 

—

Fred was the first out of the car, slamming the door behind him as his rage was starting to bubble out from his lungs. George hurried to catch up with his older brother, the look in his eyes and his body language evident that nothing short of violent impulsivity would amount from the situation. Fred pushed past Roger, ignoring the pleas for peace, he was never mad at Rog, Rog deserved a top rank, but his anger was centered towards Dean.

Dean needed a nice loss.

“Oi, Thomas.” He got closer to the man, Dean turning around slowly, a haughty sense of pride glazed on his face. “What’s wrong, Freddie, I’d figured after your little twelfth place at the table third should be a nice welcome to you,” he drawled, before Fred lunged at him, getting held back only by Davies.

“Aw, does poor little Freddie still need a babysitter?”

“Open that mouth one more fucking time-”

“Fred-” Roger stuttered.

“No,” he pushed from his grasp and proceeded to get inches from Dean’s face

Dean smirked and leaned back to grab a beer from the cooler beside him. “Fred. Your little tough guy act doesn’t scare me anymore, you know that.”

George stepped up next to Fred, “It’s not an act, mate, I think you know us well enough by now to get that we don’t take kindly to cheaters,” he said softly, rising to his full height.

Dean immediately leaned back at the sight of the two gingers, and even going as far as shrinking at the pure sight of Roger Davies, not as tall but definitely as intimidating, standing between them.

“The track never did cater to a liar, Thomas, we figured you’d know that by now,” Roger added quietly. 

Dean scoffed, the adrenaline clearly rising in his chest, as the men behind him started to eye each other, the violence of the situation reaching a silent all time high. “I’m not gonna take shit from a losing tosser, his stooge of a younger brother, and a dumb blonde-“ 

Fred had launched himself all the way forward, his index and thumb forming a U shape as he grabbed Dean’s face, slamming it directly into the window. Dean struggled in Fred’s grasp, lifeless and sloppy fists flying in every direction possible. When Fred finally pulled off the boy and began to walk off, a smug and bloody smirk gracing his haughty face, Seamus lunged forward, a punch matching the back of Fred’s head. 

A full on fight occurred, George rushing forward to slam Seamus to the ground, dust flying in every which way under the artificial lights. Fred had taken to pummeling Dean as if he was losing himself entirely in aggression.

The twins had always had an aggressive streak - but it had rarely been released in their current younger years of “adulthood.” 

Amongst the mess of brawling fists and kicked up dirt, Roger had managed to summon the presence of one of the two Weasley girls - you, the understanding quick thinker with a tendency to be for whatever your boyfriend did and Fred’s Wife, the american firecracker who rarely took no for an answer.. When you had arrived, Rog and George were stopping Fred from lurching at Dean once more, Instead you were focused on the graze that lay above George’s brow, taking a deep breath and shaking your head at just how reckless he had become. 

“George Weasley, I swear to fucking god you bastard.” You shouted, pulling him up by his bicep and pushing him back against his dust-covered car. “One night I leave you, One night and you end up in a back street race nearly getting your ass handed to you by Dean fucking Thomas-”

“It was Seamus, actually-”

“Not the fucking point, George.” you slapped his chest, only for him to wrap his arms around your waist, keeping you pulled close, a small smirk hanging off his lips.

“Fred said I needed to let loose, and I did and it was the best fun I’ve had since the end of season… but that obviously isn’t what I should be saying… I’m sorry, really am.”

You rolled your eyes, a sigh falling from your lips as you rested your head on his chest, with all the stress that NASCAR had given him, it really was the best thing that he was getting some actual joy in his free time. “At least you had fun.”

-

You knew you couldn’t be mad at him for long, not with the puppy dog eyes he was giving you as he knelt down on the floor, elbows resting on the mattress to look at you. Part of him realised that he needed to not piss you off any more than he already had, after all it was a little more than what you were expecting from him and with so much on the line after all of his hard work you were more mad at the fact he would so easily chance it.

“Stop looking at me like that.”

“Like what?” He quipped, a small smile on his lips as he stretched his back out, leaning forward across the mattress, fingertips grazing over your knee.

“You know what you’re doing.” You sighed, trying to look away from him, only to feel his full firm grip squeeze at your thigh.

“I’m just trying to apologize to you.”

“Yeah right.”

“I know how much you gave up to be here with me, for us, for me to achieve my dreams and I only went and nearly threw it away for a cheap race and I’m sorry.” 

His eyes were glassy, filled with a sadness that you only recognised from the day he left for America, he truly was sorry for what had happened. 

“I want to make it up to you, princess.” He pushed himself up onto the bed, his head resting on the pillow, your eyes never leaving him as you watch him shift to get comfortable. 

Your hand reached out to brush the hair out of his eyes, watching his eyes flutter closed as a small sigh fell from his lips. You were quick to shift so that you lay next to him. 

“There’s nothing to make up for, Georgie.” You smiled softly, shifting slightly closer to him, feeling his hand drape lazily over your side. Something about seeing him so vulnerable made you want to protect him with your whole heart and yet he was always the one to protect you.

“There’s everything to make up for, my love.” He smirked, leaning in to nudge his nose against yours softly before pressing a small kiss to your lips. “Just let me make you feel good.”

“George you don’t–” You went to protest, but he was quick to cut you off with another kiss, this time his hand gently pulling your hips closer towards him.

“I know just the way to make things up to you.” He pushed himself up slowly, arm wrapping around you to lay you down on your back, finding his place between your thighs, your legs either side of his hips.

His hands slowly raked up your thighs, finding his way up to your hips, fingers hooking underneath the waistband to pull the material down your legs, leaving you bare from the waist down. You had almost forgotten how much of a tease George could be, the way his fingers had quickly found your clit, the long digits finding your entrance soon after, only to warm you up.

Positioning himself with your legs hooked over his shoulders, he drew in a breath, releasing the cool exhale over you as you sighed frustratedly, hips bucking to try and get some friction if any, only for his hand to push your hips back down, a chuckle falling from his lips.

The second his tongue was licking a prominent stripe along your aching pussy, you were well and truly putty in his hands. Each flick of his tongue had you squirming, unrestrained moans falling from your lips as the pleasure built.

It didn’t take him long to attach his lips to your clit, sucking relentlessly at the bundle of nerves, his fingers pushing knuckle deep into you, curling up to hit your favourite spot, having you a wordless mess of nothing but moans of his name.

“Such a pretty thing you are, baby.” He hummed, thumb coming up to circle over your clit as he watched the way you had thrown your head back, your hands finding his hair to pull him back down needily, earning a chuckle from him.

His tongue continued its work, pulling you closer and closer to release with every flick. He didn’t let up until your thighs were shaking and your chest heaving, mind clouded only with thoughts of him and how lucky you were.

—--

Fred Weasley got home all too late, the door closing a bit louder than the man had wanted behind him. The slightly elder Weasley crept from the doorway to the bedroom, careful to mind the light creaks in the hardwood floor, taking every ounce of stress on his feet to avoid any miscalculations. 

When he got to the bedroom, he saw the woman he loved, asleep no doubt by the sight of her mussed hair and lightly agape expression on her lips. Fred exhaled slowly, what he thought was quietly, until he heard her voice clearly say:

“So where were you?”

The man before her felt his heart thump harder than he felt when his own mother would corner him in the kitchen, the memories of sneaking out and sneaking back only to return with a-

“So are you going to tell me where you were?”

“Out.”

“No, really?” She spat, sitting back up and clicking the lamp on, her face etched with rage.

“I waited up for you the entire night, the least I probably deserve is an explanation.”

“Well, love, you didn’t seem to want to talk to me earlier, so I guess the lack of communication goes both ways, now move over.” he said briskly, beginning to take off his shirt. When she didn’t move, her face unwavering in anger, he rolled his jaw, swallowing back and refusing to feel the light effervescence of guilt in his throat.

“I said m-”

“I’m aware. See, Fred,” his wife exited the bed, and unfortunately for him, she was clad in only the black satin nightie he had gotten for her after his first big win. The guilt was rising now, as was something else low on his hips.

“Sweetheart, I’m sorry, okay? I am, I-”

“Interrupt me again, and you get the couch, got it?” He nodded, his eyes drawn to the tears welling up in hers. “Fred, I’m your wife now and-and knowing my husband, my husband was out doing god knows what or who for that matter and has the audacity to come back in at three in the morning and be pissed at me? Who the hell are you?” 

“I was racing! I was racing alright, and I’m sorry, I’m sorry I-I came in late and made you pissed because I love you and I am never going to do this again but God can you please put something else on so I can focus correctly-” and then he was kissing her, and somewhere deep in his cerebral cortex, this was probably unbearably toxic, for him to start apologizing angrily for the shit that he put her through but-

“God, you are a piece of fucking work aren’t you?” She snarled, already beginning to unbuckle and unzip his pants. 

“But ‘m your piece of work, and currently,” he spat back, mouth melding in a messy and unkempt addition to hers, the entire situation wholly and completely Fred in every way possible, as he shed himself of his shirt and picked her up, “-I’d like to be fucking you.”

It didn’t take him long to pitch her body on the bed, his wife scrunching delectably at his fiery hair and his own ropy and iron hands squeezing at the bottom of her bare thighs. It had been long, too long, and with the already latent tension from their little bathroom incident earlier in the day - there wouldn’t be any denying Fred nor his girl of a quick, ravenous fuck tonight.

“Missed you so much, baby,” she whined, yanking his head up to mold herself to him in a heated kiss, the man atop her not needing to be shown twice at her action. “Missed you more, had me fuckin’ twitching and creaming in a car earlier, you did,” he chuckled, arousal thick and evident in his tone.

“Really?”

“Yeah,” He rasped, his eyes scrunching close as one of her delightfully un-dainty and gently calloused hands palmed him over his boxers. “God, wanted you so bad, baby, wanted to just drop the towel and have you on the sink, then ‘n there.”

“You mean that?” She said shakily, as he kissed her one last time before sliding down her body, his lengthy digits trailing down above him.

“God, absolutely, and if I look under here I wonder if - oh look at that, ‘was right, wasn’t I?” Much to her disagreeing whine, he sat up on his heels, his damn near naked body covered in sweat, his myriad of constellations adorning his chest like only the finest stars in the night sky. He looked up at her, the face only him or his twin could make, rum eyes bright and full of mischief, but also something else more sinister as his fingers trailed up her thighs.

“Fred, please-”

“‘Got you, baby, don’t you worry about me,” he mused, lazily almost, while his fingers drifted higher up the apex of her thigh before-

“No.” She said simply.

“Shit, I’m sorry do you want me to stop-?”

“No.” Fred’s wife, almost too fast for him to register, threw her left thigh around his waist, gathering momentum from her other leg fast enough to get him on his back, effectively pressing her hand to the center of his chest before all he could say was:

“Didn’t know you could do that, love,” he drawled, a quirk of a brow and a little smile on his face.

“You didn’t know I could do a lot of things, Freddie.” She shot back, bringing her nails up and in to scratch at his bare chest, her hips rolling to his and rubbing his tip under his boxers so well he thought he was going to explode.

“You have any plans beyond making me cum in m’pants, dear?” He hummed, his hands reaching up and under her satin to cup and squeeze at her bare ass.

“I was planning on making you cum so hard your ears pop, actually.”

“Merlin, woman, get on with it then,” he groaned, her laugh bubbling in his ears like champagne as her nails abandoned their spot on his broad chest to the hills and valleys of his v-line, the light grazing and nimble touch causing a wanton moan to erupt from the back of his throat along with a small, “fuckin’ hell, petal.” He watched with rapt but seemingly pained eyes as she slowly - too slowly, for his personal taste - began to lift her hips and grind the tip of his erection, his palms getting more clammy as he waited with need for her to sink onto him - if she’d even give him that.

But all too soon, she stopped her rolling onto his cock, making him swear at the loss of contact. “Goddamnit, fuck me already.”

“Oh, Freddie,” she preened, moving a hand back to cover one of his own sliding it to her soaking cunt, “after how bad you’ve been today? And you think I’m gonna reward you? Baby…” she drawled, reaching down to squeeze his thick cock, the action alone making him grunt and his neck veins pulsate with life.

“‘Do anything y’want, anything,” he whined, desperately trying to fuck his hips up to meet her friction. He knew his wife would push him, push him to the absolute limit until his dick exploded and his throat gave out from how hard he’d be screaming, she’d done it before, but it was so late, and God, he needed to bury himself deep in the milk and honey of her sex before it was too late.

“Then you have to be a good boy, Freddie, remember?”

“I know, I know, ‘m sorry, ‘m sorry, ma’am,” he babbled, the pleasure and lack of stimulation running through his veins. “Please,” he whimpered, his voice small and pliant like rubber.

She cocked a brow at him, curling her shiny red nails around his chin and gently tilting him toward hers. 

“Been so bad, baby boy, but I guess ‘m gonna have to give you a treat some time…you just look so delicious like this,'' she purred, moving her hands to the swell of his bulge, delighting in the whine that escaped his throat like the rush of water in a stream (or something a bit more sinful in its entirety.) Fred’s wife swiftly lifted his cock free from it’s confines, his hands coming immediately to steady at her hip bones and kneading greedy circles into the tough skeleton. 

“Ready f’me, precious?”

“Fred, don’t be pretending you’re the one on top at present,” 

“Good Lord, woman, stop the banter and rock already.” The two chuckled breathlessly at Fred’s words, his wife pressing an airy kiss to his red and puckered mouth before bringing her cunt to just barely graze his tip, a movement that had the ginger subjected to her ministrations roll his eyes back and murmur a throaty “fuck” against her lips. 

“Baby, please-“

“I know, Freddie, my love ‘ve got you,” she whispered before finally sinking down onto him, both partners releasing hisses and throaty moans at the feeling of being one.

It took no time at all for the ginger beneath to bring his hands to her now bouncing ass, guiding her roughly to every ridge of his cock. She was sloppy, the ride of pushing Fred’s high further and further to the forefront of his system. Fred oh the other hand had started to spastically fuck up into her now, moaning out her name the more he listened to the sound of her wet cunt being slid up and down on his thick cock. 

She was close, dangerously close, the feeling of his balls clapping against the bottom of her ass in time with her pants. Fred was in nirvana, the way the light graced the sides of her face making her look like the most fallen of angels when-

“Fred, I can’t, I, please”

“I know, bub, ‘m right there with you,” he coaxed, all too soft in contrast with the rampant fucking he was giving her, waiting until he could feel her about to soak his cock before flipping her over, almost too quickly throwing her legs around his waist and thrusting further than what he thought was possible. His hands gripped hers and somewhere in his mind he blacked out against the feeling of the black satin rubbing against his torso. 

“Baby-“

“Fred-“

Fred relished the feeling of her collapsing around him, his back fully extended as he rolled softly and slowly into her to push them through their conjoined high. He loved this, he always had, how her body heaved gently under his and his hands and mouth could whisper sweet nothings into her skin, soothing her form and giving her all the love he could possibly muster. 

“I am sorry you know, bub.” He finally said after a while, his hands rubbing back and forth on her thighs. 

She leaned up and pressed a kiss to his nose and then his lips, smiling lightly against his mouth as her eyes fluttered shut, “yeah, yeah, I know.”

“Just…don’t do it again okay-?” She whispered.

“Baby, you know I won’t. Scout’s honor ‘n all-“

“You didn’t let me finish, Weasley!”

“Well, then what’s the rest of it?” 

She smiled at him before craning her lips to his ear: “next time you drag race, I better watch.”

She giggled when he threw the covers above their heads.

—

It was two days later, the sun blaring just as brightly as it had when Dean Thomas proposed a drag race, and now, as the front door bells jingled an entrance, the twins had done something they didn’t last time.

“We’re closed,” they both said flatly, not looking up from the respective cars.

“Even for me?” A familiar voice asked the boys, causing them both to raise their heads.

“Sirius!” They both squawked, the lanky men scrambling to their feet to hug their favorite agent, the older man hugging them back immediately.

“Why’ve you come from LA?”

“Yeah, is something wrong? I can guarantee you whatever it was it was 100% George’s fault-”

“Fred.”

“Sorry.”

Sirius released a small smile that had been tugging at his face the whole interaction. “Boys, I’ve got a bit of an announcement for you.”

“And what would that be?” George asked suspiciously. Fred looked out the corner of his eye at his twin, and all Sirius did was throw his hands out and up.

“Boys: we’re going to Monaco.”

[ssivinee]

➢ 𝙳𝚛𝚘𝚠𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐

IVE! Band! Yujin x Band! F reader: You and Yujin didn't have the best relationship, and it has only gotten worse over the time you've known her. Although she doesn't expect those feelings and emotions to change overnight... but it does?

Word Count: 4.4k

Author's Note: This song is used in the fic, but the lyrics I've gone with are the English version just so it isn't confusing. BUT GUYS THE SONG IS SO GOOD. I HEARD IT ON BUILD-UP AND NEVER LOOKED BACK🥹.

⚠︎ Directions ⇒ Main | Previous | Next

It was a normal Friday at a rented studio. The sound of vocal warm-ups and the quiet strums of a guitar filled the air. Ningning sat on the velvet blue sofa, relaxing her mouth as she let out several loud, odd noises. Karina sat behind her drums, beating the snare drum lightly while waiting for everyone to get ready. 

Winter and Giselle could be found sitting next to Ningning, checking out their guitars. The four girls' peaceful ambiance lets you sit on the plush yellow lounge chair, legs crossed, as you focus on the pen and notebook in your hands. 

Your eyes never wavered off the paper as Ningning stood tall and proud from her seat, “I’m ready!” Her loud voice echoed throughout the room. Winter chuckles, “Of course you are,” and shakes her head. Giselle grabs your bass, heading towards you to give it. “She finally ready to go?” you ask your unnie as you shut the book and take your instrument. Giselle nods, shaking her head at Ningning’s usual antics. You sling the guitar strap over your shoulder, walking to the center of the room.

“So, what songs are we playing for this setlist?” Winter asks, tuning her guitar slightly. “As far as I’m aware, the owner wanted Spicy, Armageddon, and Lucid Dreams,” Karina tells you. “Isn’t that such a super short set?” You ask, and the others look at each other, “what?” Ningning rubs the nape of her neck, “It’s cause Yujin’s band is a majority of the first set.” 

Winter nudges the younger girl, and you can’t help but roll your eyes when hearing the name. Ahn Yujin is the girl you deemed to be your rival in every aspect. It wasn’t a secret that you two hated each other. You were sure everyone who knew the two of you was aware of that.

It all started when you and Yujin were six years old, both small girls from Daejeon who loved discovering new hobbies and talents. The two of you met in grade school and have been getting along well since you first met. You remember it so clearly: Yujin came up to you during recess, her puppy-like eyes sparkling as she gave you the friendliest smile you’ve seen. “You're the pretty girl who sits in front of the class, right?” You were taken aback at her enthusiasm and compliment, “Uhm, I do sit in the front?” You say, more as a question.

“You are her! Y/n, right?” Asked with her jumping in excitement, “Yeah?”

“I’m Ahn Yujin,” she introduces herself with her arm reached out. “Cha Y/n?” You shake the girl's hand hesitantly. “Let’s be friends from now on!” Yujin gave you no choice, which still confused you, but in the long run, you didn’t seem to mind it. You enjoyed the newfound friendship, sitting next to each other in class, hanging out at each other's houses, basically, everything you’d expect friends to do. At some point, you even believed that she was your best friend. You guys had much in common: wanting high grades, loving music, liking sports, and even your favorite songs were the same.

It all changed when you guys turned ten years old. You began feeling resentment from Yujin, and you believed it was because people began heavily comparing you two. Being super alike didn’t really help; your parents, friends, teachers, and practically everyone seemed to say something good about the other and then proceeded to belittle the other. I was like a broken seesaw.

“Yujin is such an amazing singer, probably because she took vocal lessons. I told you we should’ve enrolled you in those classes,” your parents would say as you ate dinner.

“Yujin-ah, Y/n’s grades are spectacular again this year! All A’s again. You're like a daughter I wish I had,” Yujin’s parents would say when picking up Yujin from your house.

“Yujin is the MVP of this football (soccer) game. You were a close second, though, Y/n,” one of your friends said.

Those little comments slowly caused a rift between you two, and soon, the two of you began competing to be the best at anything the other was interested in. Yujin began participating and studying in school to try and beat your grades. You began to take vocal lessons and practice at home while watching YouTube videos. You would run around more in physical education to better your endurance for any sport. 

By the time you both reached middle school, you had lost any friendships. Both find new groups of friends, become popular, and even compete in that aspect. In the early days, you were hurt, and it felt like Yujin was slowly becoming your ‘enemy,’ but that all went away once you heard Yujin talking about you behind your back while you were still “friends.”

You were going to turn the corner of a corridor when you heard a familiar voice using your name, “Oh, Y/n?” Your steps paused, and you could recognize your “best friend” 's voice from a mile away. You stood still, back leaning on the wall as you listened. “I’m better than her at everything. I mean, come on, I’m the Ahn Yujin. I sing better, play sports better, have better grades, better friendships. I’m basically the better and prettier version of her. Don’t you agree?” You hear her new friends giggle and agree, feeling yourself fuming with anger from what you heard.

That's when you decided to stop being friends with her, and every interaction that followed was hostile and always had an insult. 

When college came around, you were still fated to be in the same school, and the competition stayed in course. The popular girls of the university were known as sworn enemies by everyone. During that time, you joined bands around the same time and graduated. Now, here you were, feeling as if Yujin was haunting you even when she wasn’t around.

“Are you kidding me?!” you scoff at the news Ningning shared. “You guys always seem to share the spotlight,” Winter points out, and you roll your eyes again. “Yeah, and for once, I’d like the world to divert our paths.”

“Hey, it’s not so bad. We’re going to be recognized even more because of this gig, and I know you know this, but your gonna have to suck it up, baby bear,” Karina voices, and you nod reluctantly. “Now, how about we get to practice? We’ve been here for thirty minutes, and we haven’t started. Chop chop girlies,” Karina says as she hits her drumsticks together to get us all in place and to get this show on the road.

The five of you entered the buzzing club, equipment and instruments hauling behind you. Hearing the blaring instruments on the speaker, you began nodding your head to the song. You kept appreciating the music, and you went through the sea of people through the back but quickly halted once your eyes lingered onto the stage. There you saw them, Elysium.

They were good, and they always have been. You weren’t going to deny that, but your eyes traveled to her, holding the mic stand as she sang her heart out. “This must be their new song,” you hear Giselle say beside you, and you shake your head. “Like I could give a shit,” you express. You’d rather be caught dead than be seen by Yujin ‘admiring her work’ as she would like to say. 

Since college, every performance Yujin caught you watching had her irritating you every chance she could. You knew Yujin’s flirty personality when it comes to women, but you knew she did it to you just to get on your nerves. The winks, smooches, comments as she looked at you dead in the eyes. It was all a scheme to piss you off. So you decided to ignore it usually, and this time, like usual, you did as you all made your way to the backstage area.

The five of you changed your outfits and checked on your equipment. After 20 minutes of doing that, club music began blasting on the speakers, and Giselle suggested, “Maybe we should take a small shot before our performance tonight.”

“I’d be down,” you say, standing up from the guitar case on the floor. None of you were exactly lightweights, so a small shot would help calm everyone's nerves. Going back into the sea of sweaty drunks wasn’t usually your cup of tea, but you did just to get to the bar area. “Hey, five tequila shots, please?” Karina asks the bartender, who quickly whips up the drink. The four girls begin talking as you observe the location in your world, standing at the edge of the five girls.

“Well, if it isn’t the famous Cha Y/n,” you bite your lip in annoyance at the voice and turn around to see no one other than Yujin herself, holding a cocky smirk on her face. “What do you want?” you said, practically sneering at her as she took a swig of her drink. “Can’t I just greet my long-time friend?” she says, leaning into you. You stand your ground and stay in place. “Did they let you out of the psych ward again? The delusions are kicking in,” you tell her, and the latter raises her brows. “Fighting back again, I see?” 

“When haven’t I stood up against you, Ahn?” you tell her, straightening yourself and getting more in her face. “Didn’t say you never did. You’ve just never won against me.”

“Says who?”

“Says me, babe,” she says, emphasizing 'babe' as she gets even closer to your face. “Babe, my ass, Yujin. Now maybe go talk to someone else who might give a shit about anything that comes out of your mouth.”

“Feisty, just what I’ve always liked about you, Cha,” she says, finally ending the annoying interaction as she walks away, not without giving you a seductive wink. “Maybe, I don’t know. You guys should just fuck and let bye-gones be bye-gones,” Ningning butts in as they hear the end of your conversation, taking your attention off of Yujin’s dramatic exit. “Girl, I’d have to be trying to get out of a crime for you to even get me there,” you joke, and she giggles.

“She isn’t wrong, though. I know you always say she does it to piss you off, but the damn sexual tension couldn’t even be cut by a damn chainsaw,” Giselle says with her brow raised as she holds the tequila shot in her hands. “You guys know she does that to get a rise out of me.”

“Well, clearly it works since you don’t back away from her when she comes close to you,” Karina says and hands you the shot, “but enough of Y/n’s weird dynamic with her mortal enemy, let’s have a good time since we aren’t here for a long time,” the eldest declares as she raises her shot glass for a cheer.

You all follow and down the entire shot, feeling the warm liquor cascade down your throat. You wince at the feeling but feel refreshed as you bite the lime. “Alrighty then, let's head on back so we can set up the stage?” Winter suggests, and you all agree, following one another to the back.

Once you guys finished setting up and were given the okay to go on stage, you stood on the right of Ningning, holding your cherry red bass in your hands. “What’s up, everyone!” Ningning says, the crowd already cheering at the sight of you five. “Well, we hope you guys are having a fantastic night, and we hope we can make it even better! So enjoy our first track, Lucid Dreams.”

You quickly came in on the intro, and to your surprise, many people in the club began singing along. Your smile grew wide as you chuckled, combing your hair back slightly to focus on the crowd. Without a care in the world, you strummed your bass as you got into the groove, your head lightly moving to the rhythm. 

Yujin watched from the far corner of the crowd, admittingly enjoying the view. She wasn’t going to admit it to your face, but you were beautiful, and the bass made you very attractive in her eyes. The way you focused on playing, not caring about all the eyes and people that drooled over you. It was a pleasant sight, almost reminding Yujin of your old self back in the day. Those thoughts took her by a wave of emotions, her slight smile slowly disappearing. 

She didn’t know where it all went wrong, but she did know that most of it was her fault. Yujin couldn’t blame you for the attitude that you always gave her. Did she hate you? She would've said yes if you asked her that ten years ago. Now, it was just something she got used to. After some time, Yujin couldn’t find the heart to ‘hate’ you any longer, but the constant fighting and bad-mouthing just became something that she was used to. Maybe she found comfort in it? She wasn’t too sure herself.

It’s why, when you got into college, she just decided to interact with you more through teasing and flirting. It felt as if she missed the person you once were or the friendship you once had, so to feel that old feeling, she resorted to this. Her thoughts get cut off by the sound of Spicy beginning to play.

Yujin’s eyes find your figure on stage again, and she sees you as the background vocals for the song as you sing lightly into your microphone. Your delicate-sounding voice and Ningning’s power made the song even more fun. The song called for sassiness and a lot of personality. Your playful facial expressions entertained Yujin as your eyes took a glimpse at the crowd. Your smile was addicting, causing Yujin to reciprocate it.

Was it possible to go back to the way it was?

That event was a month ago, a month of peace and quiet.  You, Ningning, and Giselle decided to spend the day at Karina and Winter’s apartment. Winter had to run small errands, Karina was fixing clothes in their room, and Giselle and Ning chose to watch some Netflix. You sit in the balcony area, the same notebook and pen in hand, scribbling a line and revising it to your liking.

Your eyes followed the pages of lyrics, and after a year of working on it, it finally felt completed up to your standards. Ning peeks her head out and finds you closing the thick book. “Finally finished the song?” she asks as she reveals the rest of her body. Yeah, I think I finally have,” you nod with a tinge of happiness filling your voice. “Take a look?” you ask, handing her the notebook with it open to the pages. “Drowning?”

“Yeah, it felt fitting, you know?” You say as Ning reads the book, looking like she’s immersing herself in the book. “Y/n! This is so good! What key are you envisioning the song being in?” She asks, continuing to read the lyrics. “I was thinking an A flat major like,” You then begin to hum the melody, and Ning smiles at it. “It sounds amazing, baby bear,” she squeals excitedly. 

“Guys! Come look?” Ning yells as she brings your book back into the apartment, and you follow. You see, Winter was just getting home with grocery bags in her hands while Giselle and Karina were now sitting on the couch. “She finally finished it?!” Giselle claps as she recognizes the book in Ningning’s hands. “Finally,” Karina says, smiling, knowing you’ve been working really hard on it. “Do you have the melody in mind?” Winter says tiredly as she plops her body down on their egg-looking chair.

“I do, but I still have to record the arrangement. I’ll send it to you this week, unnie?” You ask Karina, and she nods, “Well, I think I’ve found the perfect time for you to debut the song,” she says with a mischievous grin. “They actually responded?” Winter’s brows go high while the rest of us look evidently confused. “So wanna keep us in the loop, or are we invisible right now?” You asked.

“So last week I reached out to the Blackout, the venue that went viral on TikTok, and they replied that they wanted to hear our songs. It sounds pretty promising, so I’ll send them our tracks and tell them we have one we want to debut at their place.”

There was a pause, which felt like an eternity before the other four of you began jumping and cheering like excited little puppies. “I’ll literally work on it first thing in the morning and send it to you ASAP!” You collected your things and dashed out, making your way to your apartment. You dashed into the recording room that you set up and worked your magic.

…You basically stayed up all night to finish, but by eight in the morning, you sent the track with the vocal demo to Karina and were knocked out. 

Within the next week, you were finishing up your part-time job at the local cafe in your area and felt your phone vibrate in your pocket. You take your time slot card out of the machine and head out, fishing your phone out. It was the band's group chat and Karina chatted.

MinMin Unnie🤓 FYI Blackout confirmed our schedule on Saturday night  Be there or be square

You chuckle at the ‘loser’ like comment in the end as you put on your headphones, listening to the proper recording of ‘Drowning’ on your phone. You and Ningning decided to record the vocals of the song last week, and it sounded perfect. It was the first time your voice was being used as a lead vocal in the song. It was a pretty nerve-wracking experience for you, but Ningning assured that you sounded great. So now you guys find yourself at Blackout, setting up ahead of opening time.

“This is actually happening?” You hear Ningning ask, almost as if she was spacing out as she unraveled the mic cord. “Yeah, Ning, come on now,” Giselle giggles at the girl as she shakes her head. “You think we’ll fill out the venue?” You ask as you sit on the edge of the stage with your bass in your lap. 

“You guys sure will,” You hear, and you turn to see the owner coming into the building with the social media manager. “Did you guys even check Blackout’s story?” The manager says, pointing to her phone. Karina gets her phone from her bag, tapping away and gasping once she sees something.

All of you looked at each other and rushed to her side to see what was so surprising. You see the long, messy line everyone was forming outside. “Are you kidding?!” Winter asks the two, and they nod, “Well, before anything even happens tonight, I’ll say congrats. You guys are gonna be a big hit.”

“Holy shit-” You voice, still staring at the story from Karina’s phone. “I know we’re all really excited, but it's time to get ready in the back guys.”

You all make your way to the back, doing hair, make-up, outfits, and warm-ups. Feeling pumped for tonight, you were just filled with excitement. Little did you know, Yujin’s bandmates informed her of your band’s performance, so they all decided to check it out. The line was horrendous, though, and the group felt bored despite nearing the front of the line.

“Did they actually get this many people to come watch them?” Chaewon asked, genuinely surprised at the fans you all garnered. “I didn’t know they were this well known,” their tall youngest asked. “Wony, I’m sure it's a mix of their fans, regulars, and tiktok fanatics that saw the venue,” Yena said as she saw so many people on their phones, watching the exact video that went viral.

After about forty-five minutes, the four girls make it into the venue. Yujin’s ears practically only heard the bass of the music, and it was so loud near the entrance. Her eyes scan the large building, the place already being halfway filled, in spite of the long line that was still outside.

She feels her hand being dragged deeper into the crowd, shimmying through the sea of bodies. They somehow made it through to the right end of the room to find the bar. The bartender was just being swarmed with people; the group just sat down and waited till everyone settled down.

“Can we get one old-fashioned, two mojitos, and one club soda, please?” Chaewon says, ordering for everyone. The three other girls settle beside her, and Wonyoung scrolls through her phone to see their promo set list for tonight. “Have you guys seen this? I think they're playing a new song tonight,” she flips her phone to the front, showing her unnies the question mark on the end of the setlist next to the number 10. “I guess we have to wait and see then,” as if on cue with Yujin’s words, you and your band step out onto the stage. Everyone in the venue is hyping you guys up, whistling, cheering, and even just flat-out roaring. Yujin and her girls couldn’t help but look at your guy's outfits, finding the slight hints of coordination pleasant. As Yujin’s eyes linger on your body, she almost has to do a double-take. She had never seen you look so… hot.

Yes, she admits you’re usually attractive, but fuck, did you look good. The tight body suit clung onto your upper half, showing so much skin. You practically glistened under the stage lights. Your set began, and these were all songs that the group had heard before. However, that didn’t stop the four girls from dancing hard with the rest of the crowd.

As you were on stage, the higher production of lights caused you to see less of the crowd, but you didn’t mind as it calmed the nerves for tonight. Due to your lack of vision, you focused on playing like no one was in the room. It actually felt freeing to play this way despite having one of your senses practically taken away from you. 

Yujin, not noticing how many songs had passed, was surprised when the group began speaking. She sees Ningning smiling at the crowd, her exhaustion evident due to the heavy breathing. “So~, how did you like our songs, guys?” Everyone cheered at Ning’s words, which caused you to smile. “It has been a great show, huh? But like all good things, they must come to an end,” Karina tells the crowd, everyone responding in sadness. “Okay, maybe a little too much. We’ll always have more shows to come,” You say while looking at Karina, who laughs at you, calling her ‘too much.’

“Well, you all must be wondering what this last song is?” Winter asks the crowd, and you hear small ‘yeahs’ from around the venue. “We’re actually debuting a new song tonight, and you guys get the first listen,” Karina says in a hushed manner as if it were the biggest secret in the world. You hear the buzzes of ‘oh’ and ‘ah,’ and you feel the butterflies in your stomach already emerging.

“So this song is actually composed and produced by my lovely best friend, Y/n, here,” Ning states, giving you a side hug as you give a small bow at the hyped-up crowd. “She’s actually the one singing our final song tonight.”

Ningning’s words rang heavily in Yujin’s ears. You were gonna sing? Tonight?

Only if she had a seat on hand, she would’ve been sat already. She watches you come up to the front and center of the stage, bass carried behind your back as you speak into the mic. “So for the for time, you guys are gonna get to hear me sing,” many of your fan girls respond with ear-piercing screeches.

You chuckle, leaning your head back slightly so it wouldn’t pick up on the mic so much. “Well… are you guys ready?” Everyone cheers again, and the lights dim down low. 

The silence killed people until they heard Winter’s guitar strumming a grungy yet slow and mellow sound. Then Giselle’s guitar comes in, layering the two sounds as the lights begin increasing a bit in brightness. The slight pause in the song counts you, Karina, and Ningning in, and people begin to hear your voice.

I was madly in love We argued so much You left first It's been raining all day here It quickly reached the tip of the chin I'm out of breath

Yujin listened to your velvety voice as it filled the entire venue. Everyone almost listened in silence, not only because it was a new song but also to cherish their first time hearing you. The lyrics interested the girl, and many thoughts flowed in her mind. ‘Who was this about?’ She thought. 

The pendulum of my heart holds me deeper and deeper

Ningning seeming sang the backup vocals, having everyone nod their head through the build-up of the song. 

Oh, I'm drowning It's raining all day, yeah-yeah (Yeah) I can't (Yeah) breathe, yeah Oh-oh, I'm drowning Oh, I'm drowning Oh, I'm drowning Oh, I'm drowning You're taking my life from me

Hearing the words, Yujin couldn’t help but think this was about her but in a love song. Feeling conceited even thinking about those words. Your emotions were overflowing, and everyone felt them while listening intently. You seemed to be expressing the hardships and burdens you felt in your heart.

As you sang the chorus, you kept your eyes shut, and the R&B sounds with hints of soul, no one in the crowd realizing that this was the voice you’d hidden from them. It was powerful; Yujin almost felt her skin crawl because of your voice. Your face somehow looked in pain, yet as the spotlights focused on you, Yujin couldn’t help but just stare. For the first time, Yujin saw you in your element.

It made her almost tear up; the way you sang tugged on her heart, and she felt as if she had to protect it by keeping her right hand on her chest. “You feeling okay?” Wonyoung asks, and the latter can only nod, just paying attention to you and only you.

After a few seconds, you seemed to get into the groove, as you looked much more relaxed on stage. You release the mic stand, and your hands find the strings of your bass easily without any hesitation. The realization settles into Yujin as she blanks while staring at you, just admiring every part of you.

…Is she starting to actually like you? 

“Im so fucked.”

Taglist: ⟪𝙾𝙿𝙴𝙽⟫

@lorenztired @1luvkarina @yuyuy90

[whumpdoyoumean]

Whumptober #30

part 1 || part 2

xxx hospital bed

"Is he breathing? Oh, fuck, Louisa, is he--"

"Just shut up for a second! Let me...Oh, thank Christ. He's got a pulse, he's alive! Where the fuck is the ambulance?"

"They're coming. Now that they know the scene is clear and they aren't going to get blown up, they should be here any minute. You're sure he's alive? He looks--"

"He's alive, Shirley! Come help me untie him! Oh, god, River."

"Jesus, that's a lot of blood...I really don't think he's breathing."

"Shit. Help me get him out of this chair, we need to lay him down!"

"You know CPR?"

"Yes. Find out where that ambulance is, will you? ...Come on, don't do this to me, River. You do not get to do this. Come on."

xxx

Louisa jerks awake, heart hammering wildly for a second as she gets her bearings. And then she takes a deep breath, slumping down in her chair. Visitors aren't usually allowed in ICU for long periods like this, but Lamb had pulled strings. Officially, Louisa is there to provide security for River. The man who had landed him here won't actually be causing him any more trouble—Louisa had seen to that—but she still can't bear the thought of leaving River on his own. She remembers the feeling and the sound, the awful snap, of his ribs cracking beneath her hands and shudders.

He looks better now than he had when they found him, which is really saying something considering he looks like shit. There are dark circles under his eyes and his cheeks, scruffy and unshaven, look sunken in. But he's not so pale as he had been, and his lips aren't blue. That's something, at least.

A nurse comes in after a few minutes to check River's vitals and surgical incisions. She looks over at Louisa with a big smile when she gets done, and Louisa has to fight the urge to roll her eyes at the cheeriness that so obviously doesn't belong here.

"Everything looks great. I imagine it won't be too long now before Mr. Cartwright's moved out of ICU," she says, her voice just above a whisper. "Do you need anything?"

A year long vacation? New job? Friends that don't nearly get themselves killed every few months?

"No," Louisa says. "I'm fine."

"How's your hand feeling?"

Louisa looks down at the bulky splint on her right hand, then glances at River's leg before looking up at the nurse.

"Better than his leg is going to feel."

The nurse winces in sympathy. "He's got a long recovery ahead of him, that's for sure. But he's got good friends to help him along the way, so I'm sure he'll turn out alright."

"I'm his security," Louisa says, and the nurse nods, an exaggeratedly serious expression on her face.

"Of course, of course," she says, and winks before going to check on the next patient.

This time, Louisa does roll her eyes.

xxx

River hurts. That's the first thing he's aware of. There's a sharp pain in his gut, and a deeper, more intense ache in his leg. He groans. Everything else sort of filters in slowly – the sensation of oxygen tickling at his nose, the stingy itch of IV needles, the antiseptic smell of hospital, and a familiar voice saying his name.

"River, you awake?"

River grimaces and forces his eyes open. Louisa is leaning forward in a chair next to him, her left hand gripping his right one.

"My fucking leg," River rasps, his whole body tensing at the intensity of the pain. "Ow."

"Here," Louisa says, placing a small plastic remote into River's hand. "The doctor says you can press this when the pain gets bad. It's all calibrated so you can't get too high a dose."

River presses the button, face screwed up in pain. "I don't think it's--" And then, relief as the pain recedes to a dull background noise. He sinks back into the pillows with a small sigh. "Oh, that's better. Thank you."

He looks over at Louisa again and frowns. There's a bluey-purple bruise over her left eye and another at her jaw. "You okay?"

Louisa rolls her eyes and almost smiles. "You should see the other guy."

"I mean it."

"Yeah, well, so do I." Louisa lifts her right hand. Her pinkie and ring finger are splinted together in a clunky brace of some sort. There's a hint of pride when she says, "Boxer's fracture. Anyway, I should be asking you that question. Are you okay?"

"Better now that you showed me this." He waves the remote at her and this time she does smile, shaking her head.

"Yeah, well, don't get used to it. It's just to tide you over until they can do surgery on that leg."

River hums in response. He's feeling a little strange, like things are a bit hazy at the edges. Soft. Probably it's whatever meds the magical button has pushed into his bloodstream. Even with the drugs, though, memories start to piece together – being hit in the crosswalk. Being tied to that chair. Being stabbed.

Just in case, I'm gonna stay awake as long as I can.

"You guys came," he says. The words feel...mushy, somehow, as he says them. He doesn't let that stop him. "You saved me. I don't remember...Was I awake?"

Louisa's smile falters, the corners of her mouth twitching, and she blinks rapidly, looking away from him. "Uh, no, River. You weren't."

"What happened?"

Louisa sighs, still not looking at him. "You almost died. It was a trap – which we knew, by the way, before you told us. There were explosives at the entrances of the building where they took you. If we'd opened either door, the whole place would've gone up. We had to call in a bomb disposal unit, while I knew that you were inside bleeding to de--" She cuts herself off and takes a deep breath, finally turning to face him. "But we got to you in time."

River has the vague impression that there's something else, something she's keeping back, but he doesn't press it.

"Well thanks...Whose face did you break your hand on?"

"Oh, this," Louisa says, lifting said hand at him. "His name was Gabriel Rakes. He's the one who stabbed you. It was Coe that figured out where he and the others were. He knew they'd want to see their plan unfold in person. Something about the theatricality of it, I think. Anyway, you don't have to worry about any of them. Assuming he wakes up, Rakes will be joining the others deep in the basement of Regent's Park."

River smiles at the idea of the people who'd done this being stuck in tiny cells for the rest of their lives.

"Good."

Sleep is starting to tug at his consciousness and he blinks heavily.

"You can go to sleep," Louisa says.

"I don't need to," River responds. When he blinks again, though, it turns out to be much easier to just keep his eyes closed and he drifts off anyway.

xxx to be continued...

[smalljxnnie]

⏝ִ︶⏝ִ︶⏝ִ︶⏝ִ︶⏝ִ︶⏝

HAVE YOU MET YOUR FUTURE SPOUSE

⏜ ︵⊹︵ ⏜ ︵ ୨୧︵ ⏜ ︵⊹︵ ⏜

01. 02. 03.

04. 05. 06.

˒🪻៸៸ ꒰ disclaimer ୨୧ ⋆

All of the images was collected and saved through pinterest. Take all everything as grain of salt as no one can really truly predict the future. Any resonated results are purely product of the current energy. Every option for each pile are from left to right.

˒ 🪻 ៸៸ ꒰ copyright ୨୧ ⋆

All right reserved by smalljxnnie 2023. Do not copy, re-word, re-publish, transmit, and exploit this reading in any way. Please do obtain permission of the creator. Any infringement of copyright are punishable by the law.

Pile 1

cards: king of swords - king of wands - iii of wands

Before I shuffle your cards, I saw something in my vision that you meet them in beach approximately the time is around 9-11 in the morning. Your person is having fun and playing with 2 other people, s/he seems young(16-19 years of age during the time. It happen this person caught your attention as they were someone attractive, olive to tan skin perhaps become more tan because of the sunlight. That's all the vision I see and I'm not quite sure if it is will apply to all. Asking the questions in the cards, the answer is strong yes however you doesn't actually know them really. If I were describing your person, they were sharp as tack and isn't able in a romantic relationship, not interested in any dating someone as of now. A little bit hard to get and keep there worth,

微 ‹3 like - reblog - follow ⌁ ✮ : 𓂃 🎧 ៹࣪

Pile 2

cards: iii of swords - iv of cups - vii of swords

No, not yet both of you are not ready for the union. This present time aren't the ideal time for you to meet. Numerous problems and challenge needs to address before being able to meet each one of you. Don't force the energy to meet them instantly cause you will just put a mess into the energies, your person seems not interested with romantic partner at the current moment. I think you will meet them when you got hurt more likely a heartbreak from romantic relationship/ a situation. Meeting them rn will not benefit for the both of you. Deal with any challenges and problems first before exploring the love you been seeking for.

微 ‹3 like - reblog - follow ⌁ ✮ : 𓂃 🎧 ៹࣪

Pile 3

cards: iv of pentacles, the tower, knight of swords - v of cups

This pile is split into two energy which mean, half of the people who pick this pile actually met their person while the other half are still not. For people who feel they didn't met yet their person, something you need to work on too such as learning to budget finances and how to save up, your person likes these said traits so if you think your lacking with it then learn how to. Perhaps your life right as of the present are currently feels sad and something is missing, your unable to find the happiness and thought that love is the only happiness so you must work this as well. For people who think they met there person, you met this person unexpectedly and you are not aware of. Perhaps they were your friends, a colleague, or even someone who you have mutual understanding.

微 ‹3 like - reblog - follow ⌁ ✮ : 𓂃 🎧 ៹࣪

Pile 4

cards: page of cups - death, the hanged man

Yes, you met them already. You may meet them during your sleep at nights or they are your classmate/schoolmate or once your puppy love or could be your crush or even a friend If you want me to define who they are, they're someone who is calm and quiet but is shy. Either be this is someone who fell instantly to any trends especially the fashion trends or doesn't want to follow trends. Dark might be there favorite color or You already have gut that they are your person but it fade also like on and off. Seems that they have glow up here which makes them more attractive in your view. You experience something with this person which you could never forget. Maybe before both of you were super duper close and now everytime you both see each other, it's like nothing, no hi and hello, in simple word you both become stranger to each other.

微 ‹3 like - reblog - follow ⌁ ✮ : 𓂃 🎧 ៹࣪

Pile 5

cards: the moon - ii of pentacles - queen of wands

As speaking this is a weak yes for this pile. You not meet them yet physically however in dreams you already know each other. Looks like both of you are channeling or manifesting in a way to create a simple connection. The main reason why you both doesn't met yet, there's much things you both need to work into perhaps you two are struggling financially, experiencing anxiety or even feel insecure about yourselves. Both are pretty similar and likely close how similar what situation you both had. If I describe your person, they are close to in most of feminine than masculine people. This is someone who is attractive, athletic (body), interested in sports, sporty, sexy, and charismatic.

微 ‹3 like - reblog - follow ⌁ ✮ : 𓂃 🎧 ៹࣪

Pile 6

cards: king of pentacles - viii of cups - ix of swords reversed

This pile also got a neutral yes. Your person isn't not fully visible in your life. This is someone who is older and mature than you, they are a leader, and a stable person. They may give you money when your first meet each other cause you seems sad for them- also they are successful, if not really, they will offer you a long lasting relationship or you may meet them when you decide to walk away to someone or in a situation that are no longer serving you in any way or when you finally releasing your self doubt and anxiety. Be ready and be patient at anytime they will just appear in your life.

微 ‹3 like - reblog - follow ⌁ ✮ : 𓂃 🎧 ៹࣪

[hiemaldesirae]

AU where *Vox* is the one who disappears for 7 years, and ALL of Hell suffers for it. The remaining 2 Vees end up with their souls contracted to Alastor, Carmilla and Zestial have to become allies and join forces-most overlords do by the time Vox comes back there ARE no solo Overlords left, except technically Rosie and Alastor but even they are 'allies' in the loosest sense. Everyone else is paired up and it all because of the madness of Radio Demon at the disappearance of his muse. He's shacked up inside of The Vees Tower, taking over Vox's floor as his own, adding a radio tower to the side of it.

And then, 7 years after his disappearance, Vox reappears and joins Charlie Morningstar at her hotel for rehabilitation of sinners of all things, with Angel Dust as her first client, and--

The very foundations of Hell shake.

OHHH this one is fun. yesyesyes im so onboard with this one!!! i think about swap aus very fondly no matter how many times i see premises where vox and al get their storylines swapped ill ALWAYS eat it up.

okay so i do have some questions i want to get over with first. did al and vox breakup before the whole. (waves hands) seven year leave thing. like did they fight before he left because that brings a wholly different dynamic to the table rather than 'oh vox just disappeared one day', which in fairness i can see driving alastor crazy in a much different way, but also if they'd fought beforehand and alastor had expected to see vox back with the vees the day after or something, only to find him missing with no one aware of where he was... hoo boy. and also- does alastor take over the entertainment district here? like, he's got val and velvette as contracted souls, so do they stop running the district because they can no longer hold the respect of those they were once under and just do menial tasks under al's servitude, or is there a completely different dynamic here that ive passed over?

anyway with that over with... (bashes my head into the wall) YES I NEED THIS. ohmuy god. the aus where vox is sponsoring the hazbin hotel because of a deal he made with lucifer or something have been haunting my head for weeks upon end and i cant help but imagine something similar here- i can just imagine how pissed alastor would be to learn of the fact that vox was back and didnt even think to go and SHOW HIMSELF to him first??? vox was HIS. his muse, his rival, his stupid, stupid picture box- and he went off to make a deal with that bright-faced, stupid little princess of hell? instead of going back to alastor? no, no, no, that cant do, absolutely not, VALENTINO, you have to get your oblivious little employee under control before i rip out both your throats-- anyway. i imagine al probably hates intearcting with either of the vees but he does to make sure theyre not dead or trying to kill him (its all for voxs sake. he wouldn't be glad to return and find his friends slaughtered, after all.)

sorry i dont really have any other thoughts to addonto this (theres a reason why i havent written/drawn a swap au with them and its because ive no idea how the story would change given all the different nuances that we dont yet know... so. yeah) except maybe that alastor would probably be pissed as hell at the attention vox gets when he returns- because he was a celebrity figure before he was gone, too, and his return is like the equivalent to a comeback on princess diana's revenge dress level. instead of being pissed that other sinners are paying attention to vox in a 'they should be looking at me' kind of way though he's more pissed in a 'no one should look at him except for me' kind of way which really weirds charlie vaggie and angel out who are kinda just going like... 'are you sure about that guy man' and vox just shrugs like 'well last time i was face to face with him we had a really bitter breakup fight so idek if hes sure about me tbh'

[drpeppertummy]

u can tell ive been fuckin around with this for months bc its set before school starts😭😭😭😭😭 shoutout 2 my beloved colleague @tummyfreakoftheweek for providing input & inspiration

[mild hunger, comfortable stuffing, super tame, marianne doesnt even hassle him she is looking respectfully]

Max sighed as he looked over the diner menu. For most people, it was an overwhelming wealth of information, pages and pages of densely-packed text rattling off nearly every category in the book of greasy American cuisine, beginning with all-day breakfast and working all the way down to an appealing list of desserts. For Max, it was another reminder that the world was simply not built for people with dietary restrictions. Nearly everything on the menu threatened to grab him by the guts and shake him around like a chew toy; even the things that might not typically have gluten were almost certain to have some level of cross-contamination in a small town diner like this. The list of items that were guaranteed to be safe, nestled down in a footnote at the bottom of the page, was small and unimpressive.

"We can still go somewhere else," Keonda reminded him, noticing his discouraged expression.

"We're already here," he said with a dismissive wave of his hand. "I'll find something."

"Are you sure? There's not much there," said Helen.

"Helen, I just wanna eat and go home and go to bed. I don't wanna be out any longer than we have to."

It had been a long, sweaty, stressful day at work, as the days before students started often were. Max and Helen had been wrapped up enough with their own work, staying well past when they were supposed to, but they'd taken a couple hours before leaving to help Keonda decorate her classroom--it was a difficult enough task with two hands, but having only one made putting up posters slow going. Together, though, they'd gotten the place looking sharp. Tired and hungry, they'd all decided that nobody wanted to go home and cook, and that they'd run out to the nearest restaurant for a quick dinner before going home and promptly collapsing. Keonda had offered to treat them for their help. Max had every intention of swiping the bill before she could take it.

By the time the waitress came to greet them, Max had noncommittally decided on flounder. Just broiled; he fondly recalled enjoying fried flounder many years ago, but he couldn't have that anymore unless he made it himself, and rarely did he have the desire to go to the trouble of making such a mess. In fact, in the twenty years since his celiac diagnosis, he could only recall having made it once. Broiled was a poor substitute, and he wasn't particularly enthusiastic about the bland-sounding meal, but it was what it was. He was beyond exhausted, and he'd have eaten the placemat if it meant filling his empty stomach and getting home quickly.

"Well, aren't you all a lively-lookin' bunch," the waitress teased with a friendly smile. She turned her gaze toward Keonda, lifting up her notepad. "What're we having tonight, cutie pie?"

Keonda, ever the avid breakfast fan, ordered a stack of blueberry pancakes with fresh fruit and home fries, and Helen, more in a savory mood, went with an open-faced roast beef sandwich with steak fries and a side of vegetables. Max, the hungriest he'd been all week and more aware of it than usual, felt more and more unenthused about his flounder as he listened to his colleagues order, but he didn't have the brainpower to rethink his choice. He also didn't have the time--before he knew it, the waitress' warm, piercing eyes were upon him, an expectant, almost hungry-looking smile on her face.

"Can I have, um, the broiled flounder?" He looked up, then back at the menu. "Uh, the gluten free one," he added, knowing broiled flounder was likely elsewhere on the menu and uncertain if they were the same.

"You got it, handsome," she said, jotting it down on her notepad. He blushed, and Keonda stifled a giggle. "How about your sides?"

Max's brain went blank. He'd forgotten about sides. He quickly glanced back at the gluten free section of the menu, but no sides were listed. He flipped to the back page and scanned over the list of sides. None of them were marked gluten free. He supposed the steamed vegetables might be safe, but he'd learned by now not to trust an assumption. He could ask, but the idea of prolonging the visit any further made him want to crumple to the floor.

"Ah… Can I just, uh, do it without sides?" he stammered, looking back up. The waitress--Marianne, her nametag said--looked concerned.

"No sides? Oh, honey, I know that little piece of flounder isn't gonna fill you up. Don't think I didn't hear your tummy growling when you came in!"

"It's fine, I just--if it's no trouble, I'd rather just leave them off," he insisted reluctantly. Marianne considered that for a moment, and then it clicked.

"You're worried about the ingredients," she said. He nodded sheepishly. "Y'know, sweetpea, I've got a cousin who can't have gluten," she explained. "I know she goes through an awful lot of hassle makin' sure everything's safe. Tell you what--you pick any side you like, and I'll personally make sure they don't add anything you can't have."

"Oh, really, it's fine," he began, but she waved her hand.

"Come on, now. No trouble. You three are just about the only people in here, after all. There's not much goin' on in the kitchen tonight. Why, I think I saw the cooks sitting around playin' poker just a minute ago. Now, is gluten the only thing?"

Max was skeptical, but Marianne was insistent, and with her sympathy for her gluten intolerant cousin, he supposed he was willing to trust her word. He gave in and ordered broccoli and a baked potato--they seemed like safe enough options even if the friendly waitress were to let him down, although, for some reason, he had an odd, uncharacteristic faith in her. She began to turn away, then paused, looking back down at him.

"Y'know, pumpkin, nobody likes plain old flounder unless it's fried up in breadcrumbs," she said, a sympathetic smile on her face. "Maybe we could find a way to liven it up for you, cutie pie, hm? How's that sound?" Max tried to decline--he hated the idea of anybody making more of a fuss over him than was absolutely necessary--but, with a charming smile and the argument that the cooks were just dying for something interesting to do, she won him over. He supposed, after all, that the risk of cross-contamination was low enough if they were the only ones ordering, and something about Marianne was alluring and persuasive enough to wriggle through the cracks of his untrusting shell. He just hoped, as he watched her walk away, that he wouldn't regret letting her talk him into it.

"Handsome," Keonda teased, reaching across the table to poke him with her straw. Helen broke out into laughter, and Max gave them both a look of playful irritation.

"Well, I am," he said defensively, hand on his hip.

"She likes you," Helen chuckled, giving him a playful pinch on the side. "You see the way she was eyeballing you?"

"Oh, shut up." He swatted her hand away and she tousled his hair roughly. He had, of course, noticed Marianne's striking fondness toward himself in particular--it would have been impossible not to--but he chalked it up partially to her concern about his dietary restrictions and partially to the typical friendly demeanor of the average diner waitress. Her friendliness had lifted his spirits a little, though. Right now he didn't mind the idea of spending a little time at the diner; the rush to get home had eased up, and although he was still apprehensive about what the overly-eager waitress had in store for him, he was looking forward to dinner.

The three got to chatting, the energy coming back to them now that they'd had a moment to sit and catch their breaths after the long day. They talked about the coming school year and all the things they still had to do, plans they were looking forward to and silly things they had to complain about, laughing and joking and poking gentle fun at each other until finally Marianne returned with a tray of dishes.

"Alright," she said, setting the first plate down in front of Keonda. "Pancakes for this little cutie pie, here's your sides… Roast beef for the fine lady over here… And the flounder for this skinny little sweetheart," she beamed, setting down a steaming plate before Max. "Now, I don't know if it'll hold up to our usual, but I had them fry it up in cornstarch for you--in clean oil, don't you worry. I double checked everything, nothing on the broccoli but salt, pepper, and garlic, and the flounder has a little garlic powder and onion powder in the breading. That alright?"

"That's--absolutely," he said, eyes darting between her and the plate. "I really appreciate it, really. It looks fantastic." He wasn't lying; the fish looked delicious, and it smelled just as good.

"You'll have to let me know how it is," she said with a wink. "Maybe we can give that little gluten free section a makeover. Get it looking just as good as you, hm?" She gave him a friendly pat on the shoulder and left him blushing as she walked away.

"She's barking up the wrong tree," Helen snorted, elbowing Max.

"Maybe it's you she's after, huh? 'Fine lady,'" he teased. "Don't know where she got that from."

"Shut up and eat your fish," she said, giving him a playful shove. She didn't have to tell him twice. His belly had been rumbling since they left work, and Keonda had already dug into her pancakes while they were bickering. After keeping his empty stomach waiting all day, he gladly picked up his fork and broke off a bite of the flounder. It was light and crispy and flavorful, and still strikingly hot.

"How's your flounder, handsome?"

"Hot," he said, covering his mouth as he spoke around the steaming mouthful of fish. He gave a thumbs up with his other hand. That molten first bite was difficult to swallow, but his stomach greeted it with open arms. He nearly went straight in for another bite, but, deciding it needed to cool for a moment, turned to his broccoli instead. It pleasantly surprised him; he was expecting the typical bland steam job diners typically gave their vegetables, but the light seasoning was enough to bring some life into it. The flounder was the real star, though, and it barely had time to let out any steam before Max was flaking off another piece.

"How are you gonna gripe all day when you burn your tongue off?" asked Helen, amused by his clear discomfort. Max simply waved his hand at her, and she laughed. Though he was still exhausted and sore, he felt better already, rejuvenated by a mixture of good food, friendly moods, and having had the chance to relax for a minute. His stomach was no longer aching with hunger, and he didn't feel half as irritable as he had twenty minutes ago. As he scooped up a forkful of baked potato, he thought he might even survive the next day.

The conversation died down as the three friends ate, focused on filling their empty stomachs. Marianne smiled as she approached the table. There was little she enjoyed more than the sight of somebody enjoying a good meal, and a quiet table was a sure sign of satisfaction.

"Sounds like we're enjoying ourselves over here," she said, a bright, friendly smile on her face. "How'd everything come out? Good?" This was met with a unanimous chitter of approval and a couple of thumbs ups, and she clasped her hands together, pleased with the response.

"Fantastic," she beamed. "How's your flounder, honeybunch? Better than broiled?"

"Absolutely," Max nodded.

"Oh, good! I'd have hated to see you leave unsatisfied. You go ahead and eat up now--especially you, cutie pie, you look like you could use a couple of good meals in you," she teased, winking at Max. She wasn't wrong; Max didn't eat nearly enough in his day to day life, his schedule and appetite both bogged down by work and anxiety and plenty of other factors. He'd been doing better since losing his single status, but he had a good long way to go on the road to self care. He blushed and gave her a sheepish smile, and she was on her way.

It wasn't long before Max felt comfortably full--not stuffed by a long shot, but content enough to take the rest home--but Helen and Keonda were both still eating, and, knowing the crispy coating on the fish would be best while it was fresh, he made the uncharacteristic decision to eat a little more. He had no intention of overdoing it; the last thing he needed to spice up these busy days was a bellyache. He supposed it wouldn't hurt to fall asleep on a well-stuffed tummy, though. Maybe he'd even sleep more soundly than usual. That was an alluring thought. Taking care not to eat too quickly, he scooped up another bite of potato.

Marianne watched the trio as she wiped down the counter. She was particularly taken with Max. She'd have loved to take him home and put a few pounds on him, though he struck her as a man who already had somebody to be loyal to. That wouldn't stop her from enjoying him for the evening, though, and she was pleased to see him eating his fill. He certainly looked like he could use it. As she watched him, wishing she could feed him a nice hearty meal every night, she wondered whether he'd be able to eat any of their desserts.

Max was beginning to fill up now, a warm, gentle tautness beginning to bloom in his belly. By this point, though, there wasn't quite enough of his dinner left to take home. He considered it, wondering whether it might make a good snack; it wasn't enough for a full meal, even for his tiny appetite. Had Keonda and Helen been ready to go, he would've just brought the rest home. They weren't, though, and, not wanting to sit around making things awkward, he kept going.

He was no stranger to the feeling of his belt tightening around his middle, but that familiar sensation coming from a good meal rather than an upset tummy was a nice change of pace. Despite its fried coating, the flounder was light, not too oily or rich, and while he was beginning to inch past his typical threshold for full, he didn't feel uncomfortable at all. As a matter of fact, the warm pressure in his belly was pleasant. Still, he was running out of space, and, inevitably, slowing down. He paused for a moment, resting a hand on his belly. It was rounder than he expected, and he glanced down, surprised.

"I didn't think you could get that much in there," Helen chuckled, giving his tummy a playful nudge.

"Me either," he said. Restaurant portion sizes were typically a lot more than Max's stomach could hold, and it was rare for him to clean more than half of his plate. Right now, though, only a small fraction of his dinner remained, and he was considering trying to finish it. If it hadn't been enough to take home when he first felt full, it certainly wasn't now; it would be a light snack even for him. Of course, it didn't seem like a light snack at the moment. On top of his already full tummy, it seemed like a lot. Still, he felt like he might just be able to squeeze it in. He waited a moment longer, giving his stomach a second to settle, and picked up his fork again.

The last few bites went down slowly, and Marianne relished them from across the diner. Max was a scrawny thing, but she could see the slight curve of his full tummy pushing out against his shirt. She could tell he was stuffed by the way he ate cautiously, hesitating between small bites, clearly not wanting to push his stomach too far too fast. She watched as he held a tentative hand against his stomach, trying to judge whether he could fit one last bite. To her pleasure, he went for it, then sat back with a sigh, looking sleepy.

"Well, good job, sweetheart, I didn't think you'd eat the whole thing!" Marianne gave Max a grin of approval as she approached the table. "You don't look like you could fit another bite, but is anybody feeling dessert?"

"I might get something to go," said Keonda. Helen nodded in agreement. Max looked apprehensive. He remembered passing by the counter when they came in, boasting a wide array of cakes and pies, but he didn't have high hopes for any of them being gluten free, and when his turn came around after Helen and Keonda ordered, he simply declined. Marianne went to get the two desserts without a fuss, and that was just fine with him. When she returned with three boxes, however, he was confused.

"I thought you might want a little something sweet afterwards, and I didn't want you leaving empty-handed," she explained, "so I had one of the girls run across the street and pick this up for you just in case. I don't know how much you like chocolate, but it was the only gluten free thing they had left."

"Oh, gosh," Max exclaimed, both touched and embarrassed. "You didn't have to do that."

"I won't have anybody leaving underfed on my watch," she insisted with a dismissive wave. "Besides, you look like you could use a little extra sugar--not that you aren't sweet enough as it is, of course."

Max successfully took the bill before Keonda had a chance and was promptly met with a playful smack. The three left the diner in good spirits, a stark contrast to the irritable, exhausted group who had gone in about an hour ago, and as they said their goodbyes for the evening, there was a certain optimism in the air that the coming days wouldn't be so difficult. Max thought about Marianne as he drove home, the slice of gluten free chocolate cake sitting safely in the passenger seat and the seatbelt gently hugging his rounded belly. In the past twenty years of his life, he couldn't recall ever having such an enthusiastically accommodating server. The surprise dessert had made his week, and that flounder had been the best meal he'd had in a while. He felt thoroughly content, tummy happily digesting the big dinner, and, after sneaking just one bite of the cake before putting it in the fridge, he slept well that night, better than he had in days.

[ludi-cerealia]

PAC- Your next/first photo with your FS

A fun little PAC ive been meaning to do for a while. Take a deep breath and go for the pile you're drawn to the most! Top piles are 1 and 2, and bottom piles are 3 and 4 respectively.

Pile 1

Cards 5th house (passion, play, children, confidence & creativity), Ace of Wands, Deceit

Your first/next photo with your future spouse may be taken to commemorate a prank of some sort, done for good fun. I get the feeling that it was a cheeky incident set-up by friends or a community shared between the two of you for you to get out of your comfort zone. You may be feeling sheepish or flustered when this photo is taken, and subconsciously cling onto your future spouse for support very briefly; so quick that neither of you think much of it but your future spouse will feel a certain spark at that brush of contact. Everyone else will be just as oblivious, having way too much fun in the moment. Think going into a haunted house as a group, and you grab onto someone/something when you're spooked; or while crossing a drawbridge and needing someone's hand to hold because you're afraid of falling. Apply to whatever resonates, but I'm getting carnival/theme park vibes very strongly. A specific message, but the group around you may all be petite in size but your future spouse stands out like a sore thumb, scrawny, wiry, and tall. Both of you are quiet, but your spouse is strong and silent while you're meek and shy.

Pile 2

Cards: Neptune (Dream and transcend), King of Swords, Cycle

Immediately I got the message that your first photo of your future spouse was in a psychic reading, particularly one where the reader channeled their appearance into a doodle. You may know them already as a crush or some will-they-won't-they type scenario that you toy with now and then but are too afraid of committing yourself to. Your first photo with them is not exactly one where the two of you are together, but one of you taking a photo of them at the height of their achievements. They may be presenting a speech or participating in some debate/forum that perfectly displays their sharp and inquisitive mind that has yet to be dulled with pride. This footage is not something you share with others, but not in a creepy-stalkerish way. This was your future spouse's moment and everyone was watching, but none really are aware of how much you cherish it. One of those instances where your future spouse unearths it years later into union to tease you about your affection for them.

Pile 3

Cards: Taurus (trust, patience, & sensuality), King of Wands, Bond

You may have been drawn to Pile 2 as well, because I'm getting a similar storyline and your cards kept landing on P2 as I was shuffling them. However, instead of an intellectual setting, I'm getting creative/theatrical/informal vibes. Like P2, your first/next photo with your future spouse will see them at the centre of attention, the life of the party; perhaps you two are part of a creative passion project, and this takes place during downtime where everyone is bonding by the water cooler. Your future spouse is a charm at directing the flow of the conversation and really navigating the mood of the room. For some of you they are the party leader themselves and are facilitating the icebreaking and breaking-in of newbies, and this video was taken for posterity. At this point neither of you are familiar with the other, and just so happen to be caught in the same frame.

Pile 4

Cards : Conjunction (union, merging, coming together) , Four of Swords, Time

This photo may be taken some time after you and your future spouse enter a relationship, you both have been platonically acquainted then later caught romantic feelings for the other. There were growing pains in this relationship for sure, I heard because of the distance between you two; which would explain the time taken to mentally prepare yourselves to ground this long-distance (for some of you, virtual) relationship into reality. There may have been nerves that bordered on cold feet leading up to this final union, which you both sheepishly confessed were unneccesary, but opening up about it did bring you two closer together. (commitment issues vibes). You may have be staying at each other's family homes during this visit, and both of you collapsed on the couch exhausted from the travel. Unbeknownst to both of you, a family member (I heard younger sibling) took a photo of you both asleep cuddling on the couch for the family group chat.

I hope you enjoyed this PAC! I’d really love to hear how it resonates for you. Any and all feedback is welcome. If you liked my work, do consider tipping me .