#there are so many things to be said. and we have to say them. but we have to be able to confront the truth.

[fangirl-overload13]

I mean of course it works on children and animals.

Positive reinforcement is a much better teaching tool than aggression regardless of who or what you are trying to teach.

People just think about training dogs because of the commands and obedience rather than word association or manners.

If someone is only just learning to speak or do things for the first time, they don't know the rules of what's allowed so if all they get is aggression in return they only have a negative connection to it but no corrections to fix it.

Saying no, then immediately following it by a change in attitude plus some kind of reward either compliment or treat is a better way to connect good and bad.

Animals don't speak but can be taught words or phrases in much the same way children are learning about the world for the first time.

A dog isn't going to be practicing phonics through sesame street but they will understand let's go for a walk. Don't bark. Time to eat. Lay down.

A child may not understand everything you tell them especially about what they are doing being good or bad unless you teach them what good or bad means. If all you do is yell or growl at them they are only learning that you are angry at them not what they are doing.

When I babysat for this young family for a few years the little guy was just learning to walk and talk when I started with them, over and over if he did something bad they would say "No means No" which is a great lesson like no hitting, no screaming or throwing things, no running out the front door by yourself. But they're just words with no connection. When he'd do something that requires being told no I'd follow it with an action that matched. He learned no means stop. No throwing toys, toys get put away. No more tv it's nap time, tv turns off. One time we were staying with the mom's sister and her family and the little guy had been hitting his cousin and no matter how many times the other adults said no hitting he wouldn't listen but as soon as I told him the same thing he listened. They asked me how I did it and the only thing I could say was "He knows I mean it." I would never hurt him or anything but he would receive a punishment if he was bad and a reward if he was good. He loved when I played music and we'd dance together or I'd make him a snack and bring him treats. At one point his mom started telling him "Amanda says no" and he'd stop misbehaving immediately, again because he knows when I say no I mean stop. I wasn't even around but still my word held impact.

Meanwhile when my sister got a puppy she was very out of control and wouldn't listen to much because no one had the time to train her. I managed to get her to understand that she can't jump up and grab food or knock it out of your hand, she has to sit and wait. I would hold the food just out of reach until she'd settle down and wait for it to be placed down. Now after a few years all I have to do is say "what do you do?" When holding food or treats and she will sit and wait politely until the food is either in her dish or handed to her.

When the dogs are misbehaving my mom just yells, nothing else, so at this point the dogs just figured this is how she talks. Loud. There's no positive or negative impact because there's nothing to associate it with.

Kids learn things in a simmer way based on tone and actions so if all you ever do is yell or throw a fit without addressing what the issue is they are just going to associate aggression with you and not the specific situation.

Positive reinforcement is the best way to help them correct behavior and learn that not everything will lead to an aggressive reaction.

But again because people associate obedience with animal training they might get the wrong idea if they don't understand that it's just a teaching method.

I want to apologize to my friends and family who have children for low key treating their kids like dogs but the standard methods for training dogs are even more effective of them because they actually understand language and are better at reasoning.

Positive reinforcement is amazingly effective, like I saw my nephew poking their cat so I sternly told him no, he stopped and I immediately changed my demeanor and cheerfully told him thank you and how happy I was that he listened to me instead of staying angry at him and he got this strange “Oh…It actually does make a difference wether I’m naughty or not” and later my sister in law asked why he’s so polite around me.

That’s literally what works best on dogs. Let them know when you don’t like what they’re doing but also let them know when you’re happy with them even if that means changing your demeanor on a dime (and even if you’re still a bit mad at them for doing it in the first place).

Oh and little treats. I skipped the aunt phase and is already turning into a grandma who has candy in her pockets for the kiddos for good behavior.

[jack-of-heartstrings]

With us getting such big gay wins recently, I wanna take a moment to appreciate how inherently queer Miraculous has always been, even when it was far more subtle. I don't know if it was corporate pressure, actual meddling and censorship, or simply the writers being afraid of such things and finally taking off the gloves now, but I do know you could always feel it, and I don't just mean the previously implied couples now made canon, though maybe more in them than most really appreciate too.

It's in Marc's whole everything, how he's a walking gay pride banner to a point his name is a pun on "arc en ciel" (rainbow), yet his episodes have always been about belonging and acceptance and his personality revolves mostly around his passion for writing (and occasionally sports!) rather than Liking Boys being his defining trait as many shows with such an obvious design would do.

It's in how WAY back in season 2 Rose straight up kissed Juleka on the mouth, just slightly off-screen, and under the Zombizou effect.

It's in Kitty Section's whole vibe, and multiple characters directly assigning Luka the David Bowie song Rebel Rebel. (The song starts "You got your mother in a whirl, cause she's not sure if you're a boy or a girl." Bowie was also openly bi.)

It's in the ways the Love Square plays with gender norms. In the way Chat Noir's aesthetic would be traditionally only be for Catwoman and (Spider-Man's) Black Cat types. The way Marinette is frequently portrayed as the Knight to Adrien's Princess, the way Adrien is allowed to be a "damsel" in a lot of ways and still worth of love and treasured just as he is with no need to "earn" that, in Adrien being the Yin and Marinette the Yang with their symbolism. The ways their presentation and energy varies between personas. Etc.

It's in Alec, and the fact that they were one of the first characters we ever met in the show, and maybe the writers hadn't planned anything with them yet but even if it was retroactive that's still cool. The fact that their change was so casual and just remains a thing now.

It's in the pregnant lesbian dressed as a French flag sans-culottes wielding a fucking guillotine as a weapon storming the Paris capitol a day or few before Bastille Day and yeah okay maybe the lesbian part is relatively small but come on that was just one of the sickest things ever lmao. But yeah Miss Bustier and her wife are nice to see, as are Majestia and Knightowl while we're talking about relatively minor but still present adult queer couples. (I hope we'll meet Kim's dads in the show this season, too!)

It's in the occasional crumbs of polyamory acknowledgement. When Andre says he could make a three-person ice cream, it just "might throw off the delicate balance" (which is more than the vast majority of everything would give us). When Marinette says Zoe's crush could like two people. When Marinette acknowledges her feelings for Luka and Adrien as valid at the same time even though she still pressured herself to choose and then to shift flavors with Luka. Nathalie's whole everything and arguably the implications she was in love with both Gabriel and Emilie.

It's in how Alix is only said to be aromantic via Twitter but she's clearly so happy in her solo time guardian role, just chilling with herself. And the ways her reactions to Marinette's issues occasionally vary from the rest of the cast, i.e. "Wouldn't it be more logical to buy her a smoothie and help her work out her love problems?", are so good.

It's in how they treat chosen names in the series. That one I feel is so easy to overlook or take for granted, but whatever someone identifies as right then is their objectively true and correct name (see: the Book of Truth identifying Pharaoh, not Jalil, in Reunion). Every time Gabriel changes his villain name everyone uses the new one immediately. It's just really nice.

Nearly all of these things individually are so small, but there are so so many of them and I'm probably forgetting more. The series has always had queer influence, and it's honestly not surprising that they went through the steps needed to use the Progress Pride flag in a commercial work, let alone that we're finally getting more loud and explicit rep this season after the bolder steps they took in s5. But I'm so glad for every bit of it, deeply glad that it's finally more front and center, and I hope we get more moving forward, too!

[jazziejax]

𝐉𝐮𝐦𝐩𝐢𝐧’ 𝐈𝐈𝐈

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 - Modern AU | Elias ‘Stack’ Moore x Black!OC & Elijah ‘Smoke’ Moore | Modern AU

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 - A simple day turns into something much more. Tension brews, words are exchanged, and things begin to shift between old friends.

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 - Mild language, romantic tension, use of a gun, emotional vulnerability, slight suggestiveness.

𝐉𝐚𝐳𝐳𝐢𝐞’𝐬 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬 - Part 1 of this is series is the very first time a post of mine has gotten that many likes. I’m mind blown, excited, thrilled and juts so grateful that you guys are liking this idea i literally just threw together. I’ll have to make a special chapter to express my gratitude but i hope you guys truly enjoy this, THANK YOU ALL SO MUCH!!! Sorry for any spelling errors and grammar mistakes!!!

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 - 13,018+

The girls had barely gotten the bags set down when a knock sounded at the door. Sinclair, baby Ryan perched on her hip, answered it with a small smile. Standing there was Smoke, Stack hanging back in the car. Smoke was looking stoic as ever, and Stack waved and offered a sheepish grin as he looked at the baby in her arms.

“Uh, left my wallet.” Stack said, rubbing the back of his neck. “Think I dropped it in one of the bags.”

Sinclair didn’t miss a beat. “Perfect. Y’all can help me real quick too.” She said, shifting Tyson to her other hip. Before Smoke could protest, she nodded toward the driveway. “Car won’t start. I was gon’ get Juicy to call Keith to take care of it, but since y’all are here…”

Juicy groaned softly behind her sister as she came from putting some of the things away in the kitchen. The last thing she wanted was to owe these two anything — they had just gotten back into town, and she wasn’t tryna look helpless. But Sinclair had already ushered them inside, thanking them sweetly before disappearing down the hall with the baby.

“I can call a tow or something.” Juicy tried weakly, crossing her arms as she followed Smoke outside. “Ain’t no need to trouble y’all—”

Stack waved her off, already heading for the hood of the car. “Ain’t no trouble. We bored anyway.” He said, flashing her a wink as he popped the latch.

Smoke was quieter, surveying the car with narrowed eyes. He glanced at Juicy once, reading her reluctance, but didn’t say anything. Just lifted the hood and started working with the tool bag so close placed on the porch before running back into to Tyson. Mary flopped down onto the porch swing beside Juicy, nudging her shoulder into her leg with a grin.

Juicy exhaled loudly and joined her, watching as the twins tinkered with the car. Occasionally, Sinclair peeked out from the doorway, shouting little updates or asking if they needed anything.

After a while, Stack called over his shoulder, “Y’all just gon’ sit there and stare?”

Juicy, ever the quick one, shrugged, trying to mask her real reason for watching. “The view ain’t so bad.” She quipped, flashing a cute, closed-lip smile.

Both men chuckled. Stack shook his head while Smoke smirked under his breath, glancing back at her with an amused, almost… intrigued look. Juicy could feel her cheeks heat up, but she played it cool, sitting back and licking at her slowly melting strawberry ice cream.

“Girl.” Mary leaned in closer, lowering her voice to a whisper only Juicy could hear. “I’m sorry, but if that was me? I’d hop on that so fast.”

Juicy frowned, glancing sideways at her. “Huh?”

Mary gave her a look like it was obvious. “Come on, Ju. You see how they lookin’ at you. Both of ’em. Like they tryna figure out who’s gon’ get the first move. You or one of them.”

Juicy shook her head, lips pressed tight to hide a smile. “You trippin’.”She mumbled, though her heart picked up in her chest.

“Nah, you just blind.” Mary laughed, licking her own ice cream cone. “I’m just sayin’ — if you don’t do something about it, I might.” She said suggestively, nudging in the arm. Juicy just rolled her eyes, pretending she wasn’t affected, but her eyes wandered back to the driveway, watching the way Smoke leaned over the hood with his sleeves pushed up, the muscles in his forearms flexing with each turn of a wrench. Stack was no better, lounging against the side of the car, wiping sweat from his forehead with the hem of his shirt, flashing a glimpse of his abs.

Damn. She thought. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad if Mary wasn’t crazy.

After a while, since Juicy wasn’t about to let the twins work themselves to death, she brought the men out something to drink. Slipping back inside the house, she returned with a small tray balanced in her hands, setting down a cold pitcher of lemonade and a stack of bottled waters on the porch railing. She also dragged out an old, battered radio, plopping it near the steps and fiddling with the dial until it landed on a station spinning smooth R&B tracks.

Stack caught the change in atmosphere first, glancing over his shoulder and giving a low chuckle when he saw Juicy setting everything up like a little hostess. Or a nice housewife. Smoke didn’t say anything — just wiped his hands on a rag and nodded his thanks before ducking back under the hood of gray ‘96 Buick LeSabre.

Juicy and Mary settled on the porch again, bare legs swinging lightly above the ground, chatting and laughing while the twins worked. Every so often, Stack would pop his head up, teasing them about being lazy, and Juicy would shoot something back just as quick, the easy back-and-forth slipping into something more familiar. Something warmer.

“You gon’ sit there and watch all day?” Stack called out as he tightened a bolt.

Juicy rolled her eyes as she sipped at her lemonade through a straw, the corner of her mouth twitching up in a smile. “I’m minding my business, which just so happens to be that car, and making sure y’all don’t make it worse. Now get back to work, handsome.” She tossed back sweetly, flashing him a playful grin.

Both twins barked a laugh at that — Smoke shaking his head with a smirk while Stack grinned wider, flashing those gold fronts that caught the sunlight.

They were almost finished when a group of girls strutted up the sidewalk, all lip gloss and cut-off shorts, waving excitedly at Juicy and Mary.

“Y’all coming to the rink tonight?” One called, Sharee, bouncing on her toes. “It’s ladies night — free entry. And DJ Sammie’s on the music so you know it’s gon’ be poppin’!”

Juicy hesitated, letting out a questioning him and glancing sideways at Mary, who immediately nodded like a bobblehead. Juicy couldn’t help but laugh as she stood up from the wing and moved over to the porch railing.

Sensing the pause, another girl chimed in, grinning mischievously. “Keith’s gonna be there…”

That name got both Stack and Smoke’s attention. Stack looked up from under the car, wiping his hands on his jeans, while Smoke just leaned an elbow against the hood, eyes narrowed slightly as he listened.

Juicy groaned, rolling her eyes so hard it was a wonder they didn’t fall out. “We ain’t goin’ for Keith.” She said firmly, crossing her arms. “We goin’ for the music. And the skating.” The group of girls just giggled, but the twins kept their reactions to themselves, although the way Stack shook his head and muttered something under his breath wasn’t lost on anyone paying attention.

Just then, Smoke stepped out from under the car, grabbing the hem of his white muscle shirt and dragging it up to wipe the sweat off his face and neck. The move revealed a long stretch of carved abs and broad chest, glistening slightly under the sun.

The girls on the sidewalk went still, staring, barely trying to hide it. Mary leaned over to Juicy and whispered something that made her snort.

Smoke’s arms, chest, and abs were cut and gleaming, every muscle shifting as he moved. His expression was calm, like he didn’t even notice the sudden heavy air. But the girls noticed.

They tried — tried — to stay cool, fake texting on their phones, fiddling with their hair, pretending to stretch like they weren’t sneaking glances at every inch of him. One girl tilted her head, lips parting slightly before she caught herself and quickly turned to whisper something to her friend, who was already elbowing her back.

The whole group looked like they wanted to fan themselves but knew better than to make it obvious.

Smoke ignored the attention entirely as she turned and waked towards the porch. His focus stayed locked on Juicy as he strolled up to the porch, a confident stride. Without a word, he picked up one of the glasses she had set out and drained it in a few long gulps.

When he finished, he lowered the glass, standing close enough that Juicy had to tilt her head up to meet his gaze. The other girls might as well have disappeared.

“Can I get some more ice, please?” Smoke asked, his voice deep and steady. Juicy blinked, a little caught off guard by the way he said it — by the slow, deliberate way he spoke, like every word was dipped in syrup.

“Of course.” She said, a little softer than before, reaching out to take the empty glass from his hand.

“Thanks, ma.” He added, flashing a rare, almost boyish grin that somehow made him even more dangerous.

Juicy barely managed a nod before spinning on her heel quickly and disappearing into the house with the glass, feeling the heat creep up her neck.

Smoke watched her go for a second longer than necessary before heading back to the car without a word, his expression unreadable. Stack only laughed lowly, shaking his head as he tightened another bolt. “You got her flustered, boy.”

Smoke just smirked under his breath and leaned back under the hood. “Shut up and fix the damn car.” He muttered, but even then, there was a certain lightness to him that hadn’t been there before.

Meanwhile, on the sidewalk, the group of girls tried desperately to collect themselves, sneaking peeks at each other like who the hell are they and why haven’t we seen them before? Their excitement was bubbling under the surface, barely contained, especially knowing there was still another fine man half-hidden under the car.

Juicy came back out seconds later, filling the ice cup with water and said it down, waiting for the man to come get whenever he wanted. She saw the looks on the girls faces, and before the girls could even chime in about the fine men fixing the car, Juicy suddenly rethought what Mary had just said, realizing she didn’t like the way the newcomers were looking at Smoke and Stack. She blinked, glancing between the ogling group.

The girls were too busy stealing glances to notice Juicy’s mood shift, or even her arrival, especially as Stack slid out from under the car, sweat dripping down his bronze skin. Without a second thought, he tugged his white muscle shirt off completely, exposing his toned body to the beaming sun. He used the shirt to wipe his face, running a hand down his cornrows before slipping right back under the car like he hadn’t just stopped half the sidewalk.

Juicy felt something twist in her chest. She didn’t like this one bit. Straightening up, she forced a polite smile, her arms folding over her chest tightly.

“Okay, I’ll see y’all at the rink.” She said, voice tight but sweet.

The girls, slow to pull their attention away from the men, nodded distractedly. One of them even started to raise a finger, angled towards the men and probably about to ask something Juicy had no patience for. Before she could get a word out, Juicy was already coming down the porch steps, keeping her arms folded as she approached.

“I have to go help Mary pick out an outfit. We’ll see y’all there.”She said firmly, her tone leaving no room for further conversation.

Her smile stayed taut and polite, but her eyes sharpened a bit as she looked at the girl who’d been about to speak. The girl simply blinked and nodded. Maybe they caught on to the shift in attitude, maybe they didn’t. Either way, Juicy didn’t care.

She waved them off, watching with a hard stare until they turned the corner and disappeared out of sight.

When she turned back toward the house, Mary was sitting on the porch, one brow raised knowingly. Juicy rolled her eyes at her friend’s silent teasing.

“Come on.” She huffed. “We gotta find you something to wear.”She stayed planted on the sidewalk, not bothering to head back inside since they were about to walk to Mary’s house anyway.

Mary scoffed as she stood up, amusement all over her face as she made her way down the porch. “Don’t be mad at me ’cause you’re conflicted.”

“I’m not conflicted.” Juicy snapped, arms still crossed over her chest, her bottom lip pushed out in a pout. It was a look Stack, still under the car, caught from the corner of his eye — a look that he and Smoke both secretly adored.

Stack rolled out from under the car and looked between the girls. “Where y’all going?” He asked, already pretty sure he knew from the bits of conversation he’d heard. “To Mary’s.” Juicy replied quickly, still sounding a little ticked off without even knowing why.

Stack stood up, stretching his arms over his head lazily before wiping his sweat away with the shirt still in his hand. “Okay, well, you’re not gonna walk. I’ll take you.”

Juicy frowned, confused. “Why? What about the car?”

Stack looked down at her, his gold skin glinting in the sun, cool and unaffected. “Smoke got it.” He said, simple and sure. Juicy opened her mouth, ready to argue, but Stack cut her off, stepping closer and towering over her just slightly.

“And he don’t care. He’ll be a’ight. Now walk on over to that car so we can get you girls ready for the rink tonight.” He said, more a command than a suggestion.

Juicy bit the inside of her cheek, arms pressing tighter against her stomach, trying to ignore the way her body responded to the authority in his voice. When she didn’t move, too caught up in her spiraling thoughts, Stack quirked a brow at her, waiting.

That little flick of his eyebrow snapped her out of it. She blinked, glancing away quickly, then shoved her hand out toward him. “I need the key.” She said sassily, shifting her weight onto one leg, her chin tilted up in challenge.

Stack smirked slightly and pulled the key from his low-hanging pants, dropping it into her palm. Their fingers brushed, and Juicy had to bite back a shiver at the sudden spark that zipped up her arm.

“Go.” Stack said again, his voice low, almost amused.

Juicy scoffed, even though she was already moving toward the parked car across the street. Mary fell into step beside her, grinning devilishly. “Girl, if he talked to me like that, you don’t even wanna know the things I’d be calling him. Shit you only hear in pornos.” She said, her voice loud enough to make Juicy’s face heat up.

Juicy scoffed softly but said nothing, sliding into the back seat with Mary right behind her.

“Girl, you say things you hear in pornos in regular conversation.” Juicy shot back once they were both buckled in.

Mary laughed so hard she snorted. “Exactly! That’s why I said you don’t even know what I could pull out. I got a Rolodex of words that would taint the whole Hall household if I even thought of ’em.”

Juicy scrunched up her nose playfully, a look of exaggerated disgust crossing her face. “Yo freaky ass.” She muttered. The girls�� laughter echoed in the car as Stack disappeared inside briefly, grabbing one of Martin’s spare shirts to tug on and fixing himself a glass of lemonade before joining them.

════════════ ⭑.ᐟ ════════════

The drive to Mary’s house didn’t take long—it never did. Just a few blocks through the old neighborhood, past houses that still had their porch swings and clotheslines, windows cracked open to let the breeze in. Stack drove with one hand on the wheel, the other resting near the gear shift. Mary sat up from the back seat, chatting about outfit options for the rink while Juicy stayed quiet in the back seat, arms still folded, her mind split between Stack’s voice in her ear and the way her body still buzzed from it.

When Stack pulled up in front of Mary’s house, he barely shifted the car into park before he popped open his door. Juicy blinked, confused, leaning forward from the back seat. “Where are you going?” She asked, watching as Stack stepped out, the driver’s side still wide open. Her brows were drawn together, confused by his quick exit.

He paused, glancing back at her with that same half-annoyed, half-amused look that always made her want to slap him—and maybe kiss him, too, if she’d ever admit it.

“You thought I was about to sit in this hot ass car while you girls take forever to find one outfit?” He asked, brows raised like she was the one being unreasonable. “Hell no.” Before Juicy could reply, he added with a shrug, “Plus, I gotta speak to Ms. Boothe.”

That caused Juicy to scoff a little and roll her eyes, the corner of her lip twitching into a pout even she didn’t realize was there. “My bad.” She muttered, opening her door. “I was just asking.”

As she began to step out, hand on the car door, he hit her again with that low, level voice.

“Don’t slam my door.”

Juicy paused, one foot on the curb, one hand still gripping the door. She stared at him over the top of the car, unblinking. No sass. Just that locked-in eye contact that always made the air thick between them. He knew her too well. Without a word, she eased the door shut—not too soft, not too rough—just enough pressure to make sure it caught and locked, but nothing close to a slam.

Stack smiled up at her as he got out and rounded the car, locking it behind him. “And I know you’re sorry, baby.” He dded, eyes playful. “I wasn’t yelling at you.”

That smug little smirk made Juicy roll her eyes again, but there was no heat behind it now—just a flutter in her chest that she refused to acknowledge. She turned without another word and made her way up to Mary’s porch, Stack only a few paces behind her.

Mary was already up the steps and in the home, letting herself into the house as if she lived alone as she waked to her on after a quick greeting to her mother. Juicy followed suit, opening the screen door and stepping into the familiar scent of lemon oil and hot grease.

“Hi, Missy.” She called out automatically, slipping off her shoes by the door like she always did.

Missy Boothe, Mary’s mother, was in the kitchen as usual, standing over a simmering skillet and humming something old-school under her breath. At the sound of Juicy’s voice, she turned from the stove with a warm smile.

“Hey, baby.” She said, her voice honeyed and sweet.

But her eyes immediately shifted past Juicy, going wide as she spotted the tall figure behind her.

“Oh, Elias!” She practically sung, her arms already opening as she came toward him. Stack grinned and stepped into the hug with ease, like he’d done it a hundred times before—because he had.

“Hey, Ms. Missy.” He said, wrapping his arms around the petite Southern woman, careful not to smother her with his size.

She pulled back just far enough to look up at him with adoration. “Just look at you.” She fussed, eyes shining. “You’ve grown your hair out again! And that skin is just glowing, boy. You look so handsome. So grown.”

Stack chuckled low in his throat, rubbing at the back of his neck. “I’ve just been outside, Ms. Missy. That’s all the glow you’re seeing, sweat.”

“Oh, hush that modesty.” She waved him off. “You and Elijah must be doing something right. Still keeping up with your cousin?”

“Yes, ma’am. He’s good.” Stack nodded, his voice softening with respect.

“That’s good. Well, you have got to come sit with me for a spell and tell me what you boys have been up to. Come on in here, let me fix you something.” She was already turning back to the kitchen, hand still gently latched around his wrist like she didn’t want him slipping away.

As she led him deeper into the house, Stack glanced back over his shoulder at Juicy. She hadn’t followed yet. She stood near the front room, watching the exchange with a small, unreadable smile on her lips. One that held warmth… and maybe just a hint of something else. A tenderness that surprised even her.

Missy Boothe was one of those women who made everyone feel like home. She’d known them since they were small children, always feeding them, always welcoming them in like they were her own. But Stack had a particular place in her heart. She’d always doted on him a little extra, claiming it was because he was so well-mannered, but Juicy suspected it was something else. Like the way his father treated him. He’d always been around. Showing up for more than just meals. Fixing things around the house. Walking Mary to the store when Missy couldn’t. Making sure her trash was taken out without even asking. That kind of presence made a mark.

She watched as Stack settled onto one of the barstools at the counter as Missy poured him a glass of sweet tea. She was talking a mile a minute now, and Stack was answering with polite hums and the occasional laugh that made his shoulders shake. Juicy watched them from the kitchen doorway, a soft smile on her face before she walked further into the house, leaving the man with the woman that adored him most.

Upstairs, Mary’s room was still the same explosion of color and chaos it had always been—posters of Dru Hill and B2K on the walls, an old Destiny’s Child CD case cracked open on the nightstand, and a tangled mess of clothes spilling from an overworked dresser. The window was cracked to let in the breeze, the lace curtains fluttering gently as the soft hum of a fan blew from the corner. It was just past noon, and the air smelled faintly of coconut oil and flat iron heat.

Juicy flopped onto Mary’s bed, laying on her stomach as she watched her friend rummage through her closet. Mary, dressed in a pink camisole and cutoff shorts, was talking to herself more than anyone, throwing tops over her shoulder and groaning dramatically.

“I swear I don’t have nothing to wear!” She exclaimed, stepping back and putting her hands on her hips.

“You have too much to wear.”Juicy countered, grabbing a red Baby Phat halter top off the bed beside her and holding it up. “You could pull this with your denim mini.” She suggested.

Mary turned and wrinkled her nose. “Girl, I wore that the last time I went out.”

“And nobody remembers but you.”

“I remember, and that’s what matters.” Mary said, then spun around with a grin. “But I know you’re not talking. You know you gon’ pull out that same lil’ rhinestone tee you always wear when you tryna be cute. The one that say ‘Spoiled’ on it.” She snickered.

Juicy narrowed her eyes, flipping her off playfully before burying her face in the comforter. “The shirts nice. Can’t help it if it makes my boobs look good.” She shrugged. Mary laughed and flopped down beside her. “Yeah, you’re tryna be cute. And make them look good for somebody.”

Juicy raised her head slowly. “What you mean?”

“I mean…” Mary’s grin grew wide and mischievous. “Keith gon’ be there tonight.”

Juicy’s face twitched—but only just. “I don’t care if Keith there.” She muttered.

“Mmmhmm.” Mary sing-songed. “You was all shy when he asked for your number last week. Actin’ like you ain’t like him back.”

“I didn’t give him my number.” Juicy mumbled, face buried in the pillow now.

“Yeah, ‘cause I was standing right there.” Mary laughed. “But I know you wanted to.”

Before Juicy could respond, the floorboards outside the room creaked. They both glanced up at the same time.

Stack leaned against the doorframe, shoulder pressed to the wood, arms folded across his chest. He hadn’t bothered knocking—he never did when it came to Mary’s house. He let his eyes trail lazily across the room until they landed on Juicy still lying on the bed, then flicked toward Mary with a lopsided grin.

“Keith, huh?” He questioned.

Juicy sat up fast, like she’d been caught red-handed. “Were you eavesdropping?” She asked.

“I just walked in.” He said, pushing off the doorframe. “Y’all was talkin’ like I wasn’t even here.”

Mary, unfazed, gave him a look. “Yeah, because you wasn’t here a second ago.”

Stack turned to Juicy, narrowing his eyes a little. “So who this Keith dude?” He asked, going back to the subject.

Juicy avoided his gaze. “Ain’t nobody important.” She shrugged.

“Seem like somebody.” His tone was light, teasing even, but there was a sharpness just beneath the surface. His eyes didn’t leave hers, though she didn’t look at him, Mary, still oblivious, perked up as she sorted through more clothes. “He’s the boy that helped us bring the sodas to some function last week, he went and picked them up for the free. Real polite. And cute too—Juicy even said it.”

“Mary…” Juicy warned, her voice low.

“What?” Mary said with a shrug. “He’s nice. You blushed when he said you smelled good.”

“You know that my favorite compliment.” The darker skinned girl mumbled, crossing her arms. Stack looked at Juicy, face unreadable and jaw ticking ever so slightly. “You like him?” He asked.

Juicy met his eyes but only for a second before glancing away, her voice suddenly clipped. “No.”

Mary snorted. “You do. You just don’t wanna admit it ‘cause he quiet and not all hard like—”

“I don’t like him.” Juicy cut her off sharply, more forcefully this time, her eyes flicking to Stack’s.

He studied her closely now, catching the shift in her tone, the way her shoulders stiffened a bit and how she wouldn’t look at him. Something about her denial felt too practiced, too deliberate. Like she wanted him to hear it, believe it—need him to.

Mary didn’t seem to notice. She was still talking, still pulling tops and jeans and accessories. But Stack… he was locked in on Juicy. And the longer she avoided his gaze, the more his protectiveness stirred.

“Just curious.” He said finally, voice dropping a notch. “I don’t know the dude. If he weird or got a rep, I need to know.”

Juicy shook her head. “He’s not weird. And he don’t got a rep.”

“So he just a regular dude… interested in you.” Stack said, stepping further into the room.

Juicy sat up straighter, furrowing her brows at him. “Yeah?” She said. “Why does that sound like a problem?”

“It doesn’t.” He said simply, but his eyes told a different story. “Just don’t like niggas coming around who ain’t got good intentions.”

“And who’s to say he don’t?”

Stack smirked a little but didn’t answer. His silence said enough.

Mary finally caught the shift in energy, turning from her closet with a raised brow. “Okay, why does it feel like y’all are arguing over a boy that neither of y’all dating?”

“I’m not arguing,” Juicy muttered, sliding off the bed. “Ain’t nobody checking for Keith.”

“Exactly.” Stack said, but softer now. His voice didn’t carry the same edge. He watched her brush past him toward the door, like she needed some air. And when she left, Mary gave Stack a look that held just the slightest suspicion.

“You ain’t never asked me about no other boy before.” She said.

Stack’s jaw flexed. “Cause you can take care of yourself. I taught you that.” He said. “She’s…I have to look out for her.” He said, but even he didn’t believe it. Not all the way.

Because when it came to Juicy, looking out always felt a little too close to holding on.

Mary finally ended up settling on a teal crop top with rhinestone straps and a pair of low-rise jeans that hugged her hips just right. After a playful back-and-forth, Juicy finally came back and Stack was back in the kitchen. Juicy claimed a vintage red mesh top with long sleeves and a white tank underneath that gave just the right ‘03 attitude. The girls had spent the last hour laughing, poking fun, dancing to 106 & Park reruns in the background, and throwing clothes across the room like it was a sport.

Mary’s room looked like a dressing tornado had touched down—tops and skirts strewn across the bed, sneakers tossed into corners, and hangers hooked on anything that could hold them. Juicy stood in front of the mirror, smoothing her hands down the borrowed crop top, a snug baby pink number she’d snagged from Mary’s drawer the moment she saw it.

“You sure you don’t want this one back?” She asked, turning with a sly smile.

Mary grinned from where she knelt on the floor, digging through a pile of shorts. “Nah, it looks better on you anyway. Plus, I’m tryna go a little tomboy cute tonight. Let folks know I got range.”

Juicy laughed and adjusted the hem of the top. “I still can’t believe you keep clothes like this tucked away. What else you got hiding in this closet, Mary Poppins?”

Mary tossed a pair of high-waisted denim shorts at her and stood. “Years of thrift and heartbreak, that’s what. You look cute, girl.” Mary said, admiring Juicy’s reflection in the mirror as she tucked one side of her shirt behind her belt loop.

“You think?” Juicy asked, checking herself out with a slight turn.

“I know. Keith might choke on his words if he see you like that.” Mary teased, bumping her with her hip.

“Don’t start.” Juicy warned, grabbing her flip phone and slipping it into her back pocket. “I’m tryna skate, not entertain.”

By the time they made it downstairs, dusk was slipping through the windows, casting the living room in a warm honey-glow. They laughed all the way down the hall, the sound of their sneakers and flip-flops echoing against the hardwood. The smell of baked chicken and cornbread drifted from the kitchen where Missy was pulling something from the oven. She was a sharp woman, always dressed even when she was home, with earrings in her ears and her hair pinned up with care.

“Where y’all headed?” She asked, glancing over her shoulder. “To the rink.”Mary answered, swinging into the kitchen to grab a bottled water. “Me and Juicy. It’s ladies’ night so we get in for free.”

Missy arched a brow, her lips already curling with suspicion. “Who all gonna be there?”

“Just us.” Mary said with a shrug. Missy turned to look directly at Juicy, a woman-to-woman kind of look, as if she knew her daughter could get a little wild sometimes, but Juicy? She trusted Juicy. Still…

Juicy stepped forward. “We’re not doing anything crazy, Missy. Just skating, maybe a slice of pizza and back before midnight.”

Missy’s eyes narrowed just slightly, still unconvinced.

That’s when Stack’s voice cut in from behind. “Me and Smoke gon’ be there too, Miss Miss.” He said smoothly. “Ain’t nothin’ gone happen to them with us around.” He was lounging against the archway, arms folded and keys twirling on one finger, decided to chime in.

Missy turned to look at him, eyes softening a bit. “You and Elijah?”He nodded, stepping into view and flashing her that easy, boyish smile. “Yes, ma’am. Promise they’ll be good.”

“Well…”She said, resting a hand on her hip and looking from Juicy to Mary and back. “As long as y’all got some backup, I don’t see no problem with it. I know Juicy’s a good girl.”

Mary rolled her eyes dramatically. “Here we go…”

Missy leaned against the counter, folding her arms. “Juicy, baby, what you been up to now that school’s out?”She asked. Juicy tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “Just… enjoying the break while I can. Taking it easy, having fun, you know?”

“Well, I hope not too much fun.” Missy said with a teasing tilt in her voice. Juicy groaned, throwing her head back while Mary cackled. “Missy…”

“Oh come on.” Mary waved her hand. “You know she’s not that kind of girl.”

“I know, I know.” Missy said with a nod. “But I also know how these boys around here get. They see a sweet girl like you and think they can play you.”

“I’ll be fine.” Juicy said, her tone reassuring but calm.

Missy hummed, then tilted her head. “Speaking of, how’s it goin’ with that Powers boy? What’s his name—Kevin?”

“Keith.” Juicy and Mary corrected at the same time.

Stack raised an eyebrow, cutting a look toward Juicy, as well as Mary, who avoided their eyes. “Mm.” Stack muttered under his breath, eyes sliding over Juicy’s figure.

Missy chuckled. “Right, Keith! How’s he doin’? I know he’s sweet on you. I’ve seen the way that boy look at you when he mowin’ that lawn. Almost broke his neck tryin’ to catch a glimpse.”

Juicy sighed, her smile bashful and soft as she avoided Stack’s gaze. “I think he’s doing fine.”

“You think?” Missy prodded.

Juicy shrugged. “Yeah, I mean, we’re not together. We barely even talk. He’s just… around. I don’t know why everyone’s so pressed about who I’m supposedly dating.”

“Because you’re a nice girl.” Missy said plainly, “And nice girls should have nice young men in their corner.”

“Well, I’m not interested in none of that right now,” Juicy replied gently. “I’m going to school and getting my degree. That’s the goal.”

Missy nodded thoughtfully, her tone softening. “I hear you. But don’t work so hard you forget to enjoy yourself. Everybody needs somebody in their corner. Even the strong girls.”

“I am enjoying myself.” Juicy said, her voice just as gentle.

Their eyes met for a moment, the quiet between them holding weight. Missy smiled then, a glint of pride flashing in her eyes, just before something else crossed then as she looked at the girl.

“Have you talked to your parents?” She asked after a pause.

“Mama.” Mary hissed, shooting her mom a warning look as Juicy stiffened slightly. Stack eyed the women, wondering why was going on.

“What?” Missy said, raising her hands. “I’m just asking. I talked to Serena this morning—”

“It’s okay,” Juicy cut in smoothly. “Uh, no, I haven’t spoken to them in a bit, but it’s just been… you know, school. Finals. Everything’s been a blur. I’ll reach out soon, though.” She reassured, but wanting nothing more than that part of the conversation to be over. Stack eyes the girl, seeing the way she had stiffened at the mention of her parents.

Missy hummed again, slow and understanding. “Alright. Long as you do.”She then clapped her hands once and pointed toward the door. “Now go on. Get dressed, go skate, and have some clean fun. Y’all hear me?”

“Yes, ma’am.” Both girls said at the same time, heading for the door.

Missy turned to Stack on their way out. “And you better come visit me again soon. Bring Elijah with you. I got questions for that boy.”

Stack grinned. “Yes, ma’am.”

As the screen door creaked open and the sun spilled across the porch, Juicy caught herself thinking—still feeling the heat of Missy’s words, of Stack’s lingering gaze, and the weight of everything unspoken hanging between them.

════════════ ⭑.ᐟ ════════════

By the time the sun had started its lazy descent behind the neighborhood rooftops, the girls were back at Juicy’s house with Stack pulling into her driveway like he belonged there. He cut the engine, and hopped out of the car, just as Smoke came out of the Hall home, watching as Juicy and Mary dashed past him.

“We taking them to the rink now.” Stack said, watching the girls disappear into the house. He watched as Smoke’s face morphed into one of annoyance, but he continued before his brother could express his discontent verbally. “I promised Missy I’d keep an eye on them. You in? Cause I know you ain’t got none better to do.”

Smoke shot him a look. “Yeah, whatever nigga.” He said.

They crossed the street to their place, casual and unbothered, stepping into the familiar scent of cologne and laundry detergent. The music thumping faintly from Stack’s room gave the air a soft pulse while the boys got changed—nothing fancy, just fresh fits and cologne. They weren’t skating, but they weren’t about to show up looking like they didn’t belong either.

By the time they were back outside, posted in the car and waiting, the sky had shifted to blue, the street lights casting long shadows across the pavement. The car windows were rolled down halfway, the breeze just enough to cool the sweat off their necks. They didn’t say much—just let the music play and kept an eye on the house.

An hour passed before the front door opened again.

Juicy stepped out first, her curves hugged by denim jeans and a tight off-the-shoulder top the color of blush wine. Her skin caught the soft shimmer of the porch light, collarbones on display and hair done up in that effortless way that still looked like it took forever. Mary trailed after her in a cute, more sporty outfit—a cropped tee Juicy had let her borrow and a skirt with built-in shorts underneath.

Smoke leaned forward. “That’s them?” He asked, since he couldn’t quite see the door from the page her seat,

“That’s them.” Stack said with a little smile, unlocking the doors. “Hop in.” He called out to them.

The girls jogged up to the car, Juicy opening the back door on Smoke’s side with a teasing smirk. “Y’all wasn’t gon’ leave without us, right?”

“You know I wouldn’t dream of it.” Smoke said, sliding his phone into his pocket.

The ride to the rink was filled with soft music and low chatter, the windows cracked to let in the cooling night air. The city was still humming—streetlights flickering, kids biking down sidewalks, couples walking hand in hand, and the occasional honk from a car passing through a yellow light. It was summer energy—slow but charged, with laughter always somewhere in the background.

By the time they reached the rink, the parking lot was alive with it. Cars lined up like a pop-up car show—hoods open, music blasting, boys leaned back on their trunks with drinks in hand and girls circling like butterflies. The smell of hot food, cherry slushies, and lit blunts hung thick in the air. Laughter mixed with the low thrum of bass-heavy music and the metallic clang of skates hitting pavement.

Martin and the crew were already there, posted on the hoods of their cars, chopping it up like they ran the block.

“There go our people.” Smoke nodded, gesturing toward them.

“You go on.” Stack said, looking back at the girls. “We’ll meet y’all inside.”

“Say less.”Mary said, hand in hand with Juicy as she led them to the building while the men were already veering toward Martin and the crew.

Juicy and Mary stepped into the rink like they’d done it a thousand times before—confident, cute, and catching attention. Inside, the air was cooler, tinged with sweat and slushie syrup, the wooden floors gleaming under the multicolored lights that spun in slow circles above. The DJ booth was lit up, music flowing loud but smooth, classic 2000s R&B remixes with just enough bass to keep the rhythm.

Near the tables by the rink, Sharee and the girls from earlier were lounging, drinks in hand and skates already laced up, legs stretched across benches. The moment they spotted Mary and Juicy, they perked up.

“Heeyy!” Sharee waved, sliding out from behind the table with practiced ease. “Look who finally showed up.”

“You know we had to get cute first.” Juicy teased, laughing.

“You didn’t have to try that hard.” One of the other girls said, eyes sweeping Juicy’s figure. “Damn, girl.”

Mary bumped her shoulder, grinning. “Told you this top was gon’ cause a problem.”

“Let’s get you laced up.” Sharee said, already pulling them toward the counter. “The floor’s live tonight.”

Back outside, Stack and Smoke dapped up Martin and the others. They leaned against hoods slick with the day’s heat, cooling drinks in hand and shoes crisp as new, now matter the scuffs they faced from the street. A few of the guys had new cuts, fresh white tees, gold glinting under the glow of streetlamps. They talked hoops, girls, and music—nothing deep, just that loud, layered kind of conversation that could only happen between boys who’d grown up together.

“You came out with Juicy?” One of Martin’s homeboys asked them, flicking ash off his blunt. They glanced at Martin, who was too busy rubbing up on some shock to even pay attention to their conversation.

Stack shrugged. “Yeah, she’s with Mary. Promised her mama I’d keep an eye out. Plus, it ain’t nothin’ wrong with a lil rink night.”

Smoke grinned. “Girls look too good to let ‘em come alone anyway.”

Everyone laughed, the night stretching wide in front of them like a scene from a coming-of-age movie, the kind where nothing big had to happen for it to feel unforgettable.

Inside, Juicy stepped onto the rink, her body finding the rhythm easily, hips swaying as she slid across the polished wood. The girls flanked her and Mary, all of them catching the music like they were made for it. Lights danced across their skin, and for a moment, the world outside the rink—the boys, the pressure, the expectations—melted away.

And it felt good.

The rink was buzzing, the air thick with the sugary scent of concession stand snacks and body spray. Colored lights flickered overhead in lazy circles, casting moving shadows over the skating bodies below. Music thumped with a throwback beat, and the floor pulsed under the weight of roller wheels. Girls glided in tight curves, boys tried to show off, and somewhere in the chaos, Mary and Juicy were exactly where they were supposed to be—together, laughing, skating fast and carefree.

But even in the haze of fun, it didn’t take long for the cracks to show

They’d met up with Sharee and the girls by the tables again, and as soon as Juicy and Mary sat down to catch their breath, the gossip started flowing like soda from the fountain machine.

“You see what Jaleesa got on?” One girl leaned over, dragging a French-tipped nail through her hair. “I know she saw that little muffin top when she looked in the mirror.”

“Girl, don’t play.” Another snickered. “She wore that on purpose, swear she thick now ‘cause she got some new jeans.”

Juicy raised her brows, sipping from her slushie with furrowed brows. Mary met her eyes with the same familiar look—Here we go.

They listened, half-engaged, nodding here and there, but it was the same old routine. The moment one of the girls left to go say hey to someone else, she became the next topic.

“Did y’all peep how Destiny keeps skating past Keith like she don’t seem him?”

“Mmhm, and acting like she didn’t cry when he stopped messing with her.”

“She was real loud last week talking about how she ‘don’t care about no boy’—now look.”

Juicy and Mary both leaned back a little. It wasn’t like they were innocent—hell, they had sharp tongues too, but something about the girls’ energy was just off. And it’s something they peered everyone they were asking the girls they considered acquaintances. It was loud and fake and dipped in desperation. The kind of thing you could only stomach in small doses.

Mary leaned over and whispered, “They so fake. And boy-crazy. Like, get a grip.”

“Girl.” Juicy said, voice dry. “You one to talk.”

Mary laughed. “I like men. That don’t mean I’m dumb about it.”

“No,” Juicy agreed, “You just use ‘em.”

“And they love it.” Mary flipped her hair and looked over the rink like a queen surveying her kingdom. “These chicks only keep us around ‘cause dudes still be thinkin’ I’m exotic or whatever.” She said in disgust. “Only white girl they ever seen with a little edge and ass.”

Juicy smirked. “And me?”

“Please. You know why, Miss Juicy. All them boys lookin’ at you like you a prize they ain’t won yet. You know every boy in here waitin’ for you to slip up and let one of ‘em get a taste.

Juicy rolled her eyes. “That’s ‘cause I ain’t let none of ‘em hit.”

“Exactly,” Mary said with a wink. “Mystery makes ‘em drool.” She smirked, taking a sip of her drink before starting again. “And they don’t even like each other for real.”

Juicy laughed low. “Tell me about it.”

“They just keep us around for clout. Me ‘cause dudes still think I’m exotic or some shit.” Mary said, her voice only for Juicy as she scoffed in disgust.

Juicy rolled her eyes but didn’t deny it. She knew how they looked at her—especially now. She’d grown into herself, thick in the right places, cute with a touch of mystery, and still untouched. That part made them more curious. She hated it sometimes.

“You the main one they scared of.” Mary added, nudging her. “They’re trynna peep who you want and act accordingly for themselves.”

“Too bad none of ‘em will get anything from me.” Juicy said sweetly, standing up. “I need me something sweet.”

She rolled off on the carpet, coasting across the floor toward the concession stand. Her body moved with practiced grace, her skates soft against the rhythm of the music. The line was short, just two people in front of her, and soon she was at the counter, fingers tapping lightly as she placed her order.

“One strawberry cotton candy, please.” She said, already fishing out her few crumpled dollars.

And then, rolling up beside her on silent wheels, came Keith.

“Didn’t expect to see you off the floor.” He said with that easy, boyish smile that always lingered too long. Juicy looked over at him, trying not to grin but failing. “Didn’t expect to be stalked at the snack bar either.”

He laughed. “Stalked? I’m offended. This here’s just coincidence.”

“Mhm. Coincidence got you skating all the way over here, huh?” She questioned, waiting for the man to come back with her sweet treat. “I call that audacity.”

Before he could answer, the concession guy came back, handing Juicy her fluffy, pink cotton candy wrapped around a paper cone. Juicy reached into her pocket, but Keith slid his hand in first, already paying.

“Come on, Keith.” Juicy frowned, smacking his shoulder lightly. “I had that.”

“Nah, let me.” He said with a grin. “Sweet stuff for a sweet girl, ain’t that what they say?” He smirked, causing Juicy to side eye him, though the blush was undeniable. “Oh, you are so corny.”

“But you smiled, didn’t you?”

She tried not to, but the corners of her mouth betrayed her. “Barely.”

“So not funny, but corny and generous.” He said he said with a shrug, plucking a piece of her cotton candy before she could stop him.

“Boy, get your sticky hands out my—!” She laughed, trying to shield the candy, but he grinned through it, teasing her as they shared space there by the counter. “Oh, no sir. You didn’t even ask.”

He popped the bite in his mouth anyway, laughing. “Mmm. Tastes better when it’s yours.”

“You are triflin’.”Juicy muttered, spinning away, but she was grinning. And then, right on cue, Sammie’s voice came over the speakers, smooth as syrup and twice as slick:

“Alright, alright, alright. Y’all know what time it is—it’s 10 o’clock and that means love jams, baby. If you got you a lil somethin’ somethin’ or wanna get you a lil somethin’ somethin’—this is the part where you skate up close. We playin’ them slow ones now. Lovers only.”

The lights dimmed slightly, shifting to a warm red-and-purple glow, and the first slow song came on—“So Into You” by Tamia sliding in soft and sensual.

Keith looked over at Juicy, cotton candy still in hand, his smile tilting into something more. “You wanna skate with me?” He asked.

Juicy blinked, caught off guard. “What, like now?” She asked as she put a piece of cotton in her mouth.

He glanced at her lips as she sat and nodded. “What about my candy?” Juicy said. “I just got it. And I can’t have it in the rink.” She said, giving him a flat look, only for him to grin wider and say. “I’ll buy you another one. Maybe even two more.”

“You makin’ some big promises.” She said, eyes narrowed playfully.

“I’m good for it.” He smirked. And something about the way he said it—smooth, sure, not cocky but real—made her believe it.

She sucked her teeth, laughing. “You are somethin’ else.”

“You like it.” He said simply, holding out his hand.

“Please.” Juicy scoffed. The them look down at his hand, and she hesitated just a beat—long enough to feel that nervous flutter in her chest—but then she set her cotton candy down and took his hand, warm and sure in hers.

“Come on, Miss Hall.” He said, tugging her gently toward the rink as the beat throbbed and couples began pairing off under the dim, romantic glow.

And just like that, they rolled out together, hands locked, the world around them fading for a little while as Tamia sang softly overhead and the air spun slow with sweet summer magic.

Juicy and Keith were giggling like two kids sharing secrets, fingers laced as they rolled in unison across the floor, their skates moving in an easy rhythm.

Juicy’s cheeks were still a little pink, but it wasn’t from skating—it was from Keith leaning in too close, whispering nonsense in her ear that had her biting her lip to keep from smiling too wide. Every now and then, he tugged her hand to spin her, and though she wobbled, she laughed and let him pull her back, their fingers never losing contact.

They ignored the eyes, because there were eyes. Girls posted up by the benches, whispering and frowning behind manicured hands. Boys paused mid-glide to try and piece together who Keith was, and why Juicy—the thicker, glowing, and untouchably pretty girl—was giggling with that square. The looks were hot, heavy, and nosy, but neither of them paid it much mind. Not tonight.

Across the way, Mary had peeled off from the rink, gliding smoothly toward the concession stand with her usual sway, flipping her hair over her shoulder like she was walking a runway. Her eyes scanned the crowd lazily, but they sharpened the second she noticed a familiar figure at the entrance.

Smoke.

He walked in slow, scanning the place like he owned it, his eyes low but alert. He didn’t come to skate, not really. He’d told himself he was just checking in, that maybe Mary or Juicy needed a ride or an excuse to leave if things got too messy. But the truth was more complicated—more annoying to admit. He just wanted to see her. Juicy.

He clocked Mary first, her red lips curved into a knowing smile as she spotted him. She raised her hand and waved, but he barely gave a nod before his gaze drifted past her—to the rink.

And then he saw them.

Juicy.

And some dude.

Holding hands.

Skating like they were in a damn music video.

Smoke’s jaw tightened, not all the way, but enough that Mary caught it when she walked up beside him, sipping from Juicy’s forgotten cotton candy. “Didn’t know you were coming in tonight.” She said casually, leaning one hip against the wall.

Smoke didn’t answer right away. His eyes were locked on the couple on the rink that guy with his laid-back smile and cocky posture, Juicy with her radiant laugh and those soft brown thighs thick in her jeans as she spun around, smiling over her shoulder.

He didn’t recognize the boy. And he didn’t like that he didn’t recognize the boy.

“Who’s that?” He asked, still watching.

Mary licked a bit of cotton candy from her thumb, eyes twinkling. “Keith. We went to school with him, but he and Juicy’s dint started talking until a few months back. He been sniffin’ around since.”

“Yeah?” Smoke muttered, eyes narrowing slightly.

“She ain’t locked down with him or anything.” Mary said, a little too pleased. “Girls gotta skate with somebody.”

Smoke didn’t laugh. He crossed his arms, watching the way Keith spun Juicy one more time, then pulled her close so they glided side by side, nearly shoulder to shoulder, laughing about something only they could hear.

He wasn’t mad. Not really. But something settled low in his gut. Tight. Irritating.

He’d seen Juicy laugh before—she always had a laugh that felt like honey, thick and warm and sweet—but he hadn’t seen her laugh like that for another dude.

That was his girl.

Except she wasn’t.

He had only just gotten back and now he seemed to want this new version of Juicy he was seeing before him. He was just like every other guy, but they had history. He knew her better than she knew herself, and he wanted her before any other guy could come along and ruin the beautiful woman she was becoming.

But since he’s been back, he’s never made a move. Never said anything. Just hovered in her space like a shadow, being there when she needed him, listening when she talked, watching when she wasn’t looking. And now, someone else had slipped into the light.

Smoke’s fingers twitched at his sides.

Mary, sensing the tension, leaned in a bit. “Stack’s been askin’ about her too.“ Smoke’s head turned slowly toward her, a frown tugging at his lip. “Stack?”

She shrugged, smirking. “What can I say? She’s a catch.”

He didn’t respond. Just stared back at the rink where Juicy and Keith moved in sync, the lights reflecting off her skin like she was glowing from the inside out.

Mary nudged him. “You wait too long, Smoke, someone else gon’ scoop her up. That girl is gold. Every boy in this building got their eye on her.”

Smoke didn’t look at Mary, but his voice dropped low, quiet.

“She don’t belong to nobody.”

Mary’s smirk grew. “Not yet.” She said.

They stood in silence for a moment, watching the two on the floor finish the song, Juicy still giggling as Keith led her to the edge of the rink. He said something that made her shake her head and laugh harder, brushing his hand off her shoulder in mock annoyance.

Smoke’s fingers curled loosely into fists at his sides. The lights dimmed again, a new slow jam beginning to play. He watched Keith lean down, whisper something in her ear, and watched her smile, wide and unguarded.

Smoke didn’t move. Didn’t storm over. He wasn’t up for a show like that at the moment. But his jaw locked, and his gaze darkened, his stance quiet and unreadable. Mary tilted her head, watching him. “She ain’t picked yet, y’know.” She said, and Smoke finally glanced her way, catching the grin she was giving him. “But they sure tryna make her.”

And with that, she stepped away, cotton candy in hand, hips swaying back toward the crowd, leaving Smoke alone at the entrance, still watching Juicy like she was his favorite secret.

The music began to fade, the rink’s lights lifting into a lazy spin overhead, casting a golden shimmer across the floor. Juicy and Keith slowed to a halt, still holding hands, breathless from skating and laughing. She gave him a soft smile, her hand slipping from his fingers as they made their way off the rink, shoes tapping back onto solid ground.

Just before they could grab their seats or even decide what came next—maybe snacks, maybe a few more laps—Smoke appeared.

Before Keith could speak, before Juicy could even brace herself, Smoke’s hand wrapped gently but firmly around her wrist. He didn’t say a word, didn’t spare Keith a glance, and pulled her away as if he’d been looking for her all night.

“Hey—” Keith started, but stopped when Juicy gave him a small smile over her shoulder, eyes soft, waving her fingers as if to say, It’s okay. I know him.

She did.

Even if she didn’t always know what to do with him.

“Who is that?” Smoke asked, low and rough, not even glancing back at her as they moved. Juicy stumbled slightly on her wheels, nearly losing her balance.

She huffed. “Smoke—”

But instead of shaking him off, she reached out and wrapped her arms around his waist from behind, resting her chin just barely against his shoulder. He didn’t let go right away, but her warmth did something to him—made his grip shift, his hands finding a resting place on her hands that were placed on his abdomen as she coasted behind him. She wasn’t walking. Wasn’t skating. Just letting him pull her along like he was gravity and she was the moon.

“Why is that any of your business?” She asked, voice drowsy with irritation.

Smoke slowed a little but didn’t stop. “Because you are my business.” He said, tone flat but firm. “And I asked politely.”

Juicy sighed, eyes rolling so hard it was a miracle they didn’t fall right out her head. These twins—always in her damn orbit.

“That’s Keith.” She muttered.

Smoke veered toward one of the booths near the edge of the rink, dragging her the last few feet before sliding in without asking. She didn’t sit across from him. Not yet. She stood there, leaning her weight on the table, hovering like some storm he couldn’t ignore. Her brown skin glistened with a thin sheen of sweat, and her denim jeans gripped her thick thighs in a way that made Smoke’s gaze flick there—just for a second—before dragging itself back to her face.

“And who’s Keith?” He asked, tone deceptively neutral. Juicy blinked, arms crossed. “What do you mean, who is he?”

Smoke tilted his head, voice a little sharper now. “Who are his folks? What’s he do? How you know him?”

Juicy raised a brow. “Is he my boyfriend now?”

“That too.” He said, calm, but unblinking.

Juicy took a breath and finally plopped into the booth across from him, sliding in slow, arms still crossed beneath her chest. Her legs stretched out under the table, brushing against his.

“He’s from Clinton. The Powers people.” She began, tone clipped. “His daddy owns that car wash off Main and his mama runs the beauty shop next door. I sweep floors there on Saturdays. He’s got other folks—one granddaddy’s a preacher, the other’s a retried principle, I think. Keith’s a sophomore at Morehouse. Same year as me, but he came back for the summer.”

Smoke listened, his face unreadable, only the slow tightening of his jaw betraying how closely he was taking it all in.

Juicy kept going. “We went to Provine together. Barely talked. He played basketball. His sister was prom queen. But when he came back about a month ago, we started talking a little. Nothin’ serious. He brought his boys down to see what Mississippi life is like.”

Smoke raised an eyebrow. “And?”

“And what?”

“He your boyfriend?”

Juicy gave a dry little chuckle. “No. And I don’t think I’m interested either.”

He leaned back a little, arms stretching over the back of the booth. “What do you mean, you think?”

“I mean what I said.” Juicy’s gaze dipped for a second, her voice losing some of its edge. “He’s cool. Sweet, even. But I don’t know. Something about him feels more… friend-like.”

Smoke nodded slowly, lips twitching like he wanted to smile but didn’t. He looked up at her fully now, meeting her gaze as she halfway sat up on the table, the curve of her body framed by the light above.

Juicy tilted her head, eyeing him.

“Why are you and Stack so interested in who I’m dating, huh?” She asked, a teasing edge returning to her voice. “What? Y’all interested or something?”

Smoke didn’t flinch. Didn’t blink.

“In you?” Be asked, voice low. “Yeah.”

Juicy froze.

For a beat, she wasn’t sure she heard him right. Her lips parted, brows knitting together just slightly. “Huh?” She asked, breath quieter than before.

Smoke licked his lips, never taking his eyes off her. “You heard me.”

The air between them thickened, her heart skipping a beat even though she didn’t want it to. He was sitting there, arms stretched like he wasn’t affected, but his eyes—those deep brown eyes—were watching her like she was the only thing he saw in the whole damn rink.

She stared at him, mouth still slightly open, heart thudding against her ribs like it wanted to leap out and slap her.

And then, softly—so softly—she smiled. Not wide. Not flirty. Just… soft.

Like maybe, just maybe, she’d been waiting for him to say it. “Smoke—” Juicy began, but Mary interrupted, her voice sharp as she rushed over to them.

“Sharee’s fighting some girl outside over Jarod.”

Juicy gasped, her eyes widening. “What?”

Mary grabbed her hand, pulling her toward the large windows overlooking the parking lot. They skated over, their wheels clacking against the floor, and pressed against the glass, trying to get a clear view, Smoke right behind them.

Outside, under the harsh glow of the parking lot lights, a crowd had gathered. Sharee was in the center, her hair wild, arms flailing as she shouted at another girl. The other girl, equally animated, was yelling back, her friends trying to hold her back. The tension was palpable, the crowd’s energy feeding the chaos.

Suddenly, fists flew. Sharee lunged, grabbing the other girl’s hair, pulling her down. The crowd erupted, some cheering, others trying to intervene. Men began to get involved, pushing and shoving, the fight escalating beyond control.

Juicy’s eyes scanned the crowd, her heart pounding. She spotted one of Donavan’s boys throwing a punch at one of Martin’s homeboys. Her stomach dropped. She knew what was coming.

She gasped, stepping back from the glass. Smoke stood behind her, his eyes fixed on the scene outside.

“Where you going?” He asked, his voice low.

“Martin’s out there.” She replied, trying to remove her skates. Smoke grabbed her arm, his grip firm. “You’re not going out into that bullshit.”

“My brother’s out there; something could pop off.”She scoffed, struggling against his hold.

“And he’s a grown-ass man who can make his own decisions.” Smoke hissed, tightening his grip. “What the hell are you gonna do, huh? Stop the fight? Yell?” His voice was as fine as he stare as she looked down at her.

Juicy paused, her eyes meeting his, fire blazing within them. Before she could respond, the sharp crack of gunshots rang out. Three shots, each one louder than the last.

She gasped, turning toward the window, but Smoke pulled her down, shielding her with his body. Mary dropped beside them, her hands over her head.

The rink fell silent, the music cutting off abruptly. Screams echoed from outside and inside as people scrambled for cover. Security rushed toward the exits, trying to restore order.

Amid the chaos, a familiar voice boomed over the commotion.

“Get yo ghetto asses on with this bullshit! Get the fuck outta here before I bust every last one of you!” Stack hollered, his voice cutting through the noise.

Smoke muttered under his breath, his eyes narrowing. Mary peeked over the window sill, her eyes wide with fear and curiosity.

The night had taken a dark turn, the once vibrant energy now replaced with tension and fear. Juicy clung to Smoke, her heart racing, unsure of what would come next.

The parking lot quieted in slow, tense waves, the smoke of chaos still lingering in the air like the fading scent of gunpowder. Tires squealed in the distance as the last of the scattered crowd peeled off, leaving only a few clusters behind—faces tense, adrenaline high.

Stack stepped through the roller rink doors, his presence commanding even without a word. He adjusted his oversized tee, slipping his piece back into the waistband of his jeans. The music hadn’t resumed. The rink was silent now, a thick hush of unease draped over everyone still inside.

His eyes scanned the crowd until they found Juicy crouched behind one of the snack counters, her curls wild, jaw clenched. Just as he opened his mouth to ask if she was okay, she pushed past him—skates gone, socks damp on the rink floor—and made a beeline for the exit.

Smoke was leaning against the wall nearby, arms folded. He met Stack’s glance and simply shrugged.

Mary, quick to catch on, stumbled after Juicy. “Ju!” she called out, struggling to keep up with her determined pace.

But Juicy had her eyes locked on someone else.

Her feet hit the pavement outside like a warning shot. “Are you fucking crazy?!” She snapped the moment her gaze landed on Martin, who was leaning against a car, arms crossed like he hadn’t just helped set the whole block on fire, cloths a little disheveled from the brief scrap he’d gotten into.

Martin sucked his teeth, clearly over it already. “Not now, Ju.”

“Not now?” She echoed, her voice rising. Her fists were balled at her sides, brows knitted in fury. “Not now?! Nigga, it obviously is now since you and these other dumbass niggas out here startin’ shit!”

Before Martin could even respond, Smoke and Stack jogged up from behind her, Smoke with her shoes in his hands, the gravel crunching beneath their sneakers. The streetlights cast long shadows, and the night felt heavier than ever.

“What the fuck is your problem, Martin?” Juicy went on, unrelenting. “Out here fighting—for fucking what? That shit didn’t even have anything to do with you!”

Martin’s jaw twitched. His hands dropped from his chest as he stepped forward, the tension between them flaring like fire to oil. “And it definitely ain’t got shit to do with you! So just shut the fuck up!” He pulled as she walked up on her.

Juicy reeled her head back, stunned at his tone and the way he was approaching her. The insult didn’t sting so much as the threat behind it did.

“Oh, so what, nigga?” She barked. “You were gonna hit me?!”

Smoke was already stepping between them, one firm hand on Martin’s chest. “Chill, Mar.” He said evenly, nudging him back just enough to plant a line in the dirt.

Martin’s nostrils flared. “All you fucking do is butt into shit that ain’t got shit to do with you! I’m handling my shit like a grown-ass man!”

“Handling it?!” Juicy yelled, the two of them shouting over each other now. “You tryna act hard in front of these broke-ass bitches with no fucking life, huh?! These fucking bums! You gonna put your fucking hands on me, huh?! That’s what you’re doing now?!”

“Juicy,” Mary whispered, catching up and tugging on her arm. “It’s okay.” Her voice was soft, but her grip was steel. She was trying to hold the girl back, to reel her in before it really got out of hand.

But it was already too late.

“Yeah, get your bitch before she gets her ass whooped.” A voice piped up from the sidelines.

Everyone turned.

A light-skinned girl stood next to Martin, arms folded, lip gloss gleaming under the streetlight. No one remembered her name—just that she was Martin’s latest. The flavor of the month. The disrespect in her voice was enough to turn the air toxic.

Juicy’s eyes snapped to her like a trigger being pulled. “Girl, shut the fuck up. Wasn’t nobody talking to you, bitch.” She spat.

The girl straightened. “Who you calling a bitch?”

“You, bitch!”Juicy and Mary said in perfect unison.

“Martin, you better get your sister and her lil’ friend.” The girl sneered. Martin looked at her like she had just spat on his momma’s grave. “Louie, shut the fuck up and mind your damn business.”

The air cracked with tension. The vibe was off, and everyone felt it.

That one sentence set everything off again. A whole new layer of commotion buzzed to life—heated glares, muttered curses, the tension between family and outsiders now reaching a boiling point. The looks from Stack, Smoke, even Mary—all shot straight toward Louie with collective disdain.

Juicy stepped forward again, but this time Smoke grabbed her from the side, lifting her by the waist with practiced ease. “Nah, baby. That ain’t worth it.” He murmured, his voice low and soothing in her ear even as his eyes stayed locked on Martin. He was handling it—but only barely.

“Let me go!” Juicy shouted, still swinging as he hauled her backward toward the car.

Mary wasn’t far behind, shouting over her shoulder, “Nah, you better watch your fucking mouth, you tired-ass hoe!”

“Bitch, who even are you?” Juicy spat over Smoke’s shoulder.

Louie opened her mouth again, but this time Stack got involved, stepping between the girls and throwing up his hands.

“Enough!” He barked, his tone sharp, slicing through the mess. “Y’all out here lookin’ real fucking dumb right now.”

Finally, after enough huffing and yelling and near blows, Smoke and Stack wrangled the two angry girls back into the car they came in. Mary got in first, pulling Juicy in behind her while still shooting death glares at Louie.

Martin, left to handle the foolish woman he was still stupidly sleeping with, didn’t say much else. Just shook his head, muttering something under his breath while Louie scoffed and rolled her eyes, clearly still not getting it.

The parking lot fell back into uneasy silence. Whatever heat had ignited earlier had burned itself down to embers—but the damage had been done. Lines had been drawn. And Juicy, still seething as the car door shut beside her.

The ride to Mary’s place was quiet, tired but quiet, the kind that settled in after long nights full of heat and mess and words better left unsaid. Smoke sat in the backseat, gazing out of the window as he smoked while Stack drove, hands loose on the wheel. Mary leaned forward between the seats from the passenger side, breaking the silence with a soft voice.

“I’m not staying over tonight.” She said. “Gotta be up early to help my mama shop.”

Juicy, nestled in the corner behind Stack, turned her head and smiled. “Call me. I’ll come with. Ain’t got shit better to do tomorrow.”

Mary grinned. “You sure?”

“I mean, I ain’t say I was reliable. But I’ll show up.”

They both laughed, their shared chuckles easing the final moments of the evening. Mary grinned. “Bet. I’ll call you after breakfast.”

When the car pulled up in front of her place, Mary opened the door, but before she stepped out, she and Juicy leaned toward each other, pressing cheek to cheek in their usual goodbye. A sweet ritual. One kiss each side, soft like sisters.

“Be safe.” Juicy murmured.

“You too.” Mary said, her eyes flickering toward Smoke for a second before hopping out. She offered a lazy wave, then disappeared behind her gate.

The silence returned as Stack finished the drive, turning down their block, the tires crunching soft under the gravel. They pulled up in front of their house, and the car shifted into park. Juicy reached for the door handle before Stack even turned off the engine.

“I’m out.” She said, already stepping out.

“I’m gonna walk her.” Smoke told Stack, nodding toward her as he slid across the backseat and stepped out himself. Stack gave a simple nod, already leaning back in the driver’s seat, half-asleep.

It was silent as the pair walked, and it wasn’t until Juicy was halfway up the porch steps when she looked over at him. “You know you didn’t have to walk me. I’m literally right across the street.” She said. The air was cooler than before, the night settling into its stillest hour.

“I know.” Smoke said, hands stuffed into his jacket pockets. “But I’m just looking out for you.”

“I don’t need that. I’m fine.” She replied, brushing a strand of hair from her face.

He glanced at her, lips quirking. “I don’t know. Based on today? I’m sure you can handle yourself, but I don’t know if you should.” He quipped. And Juicy let out a short laugh, her breath fogging up in the night air. “You’re a mess.”

Silence hung between them again, thicker this time. He looked at her, really looked at her—like he could see beneath the tough exterior and find the girl who once used to braid ribbons into her curls and laugh with her whole chest.

“You got a key?” Smoke asked, breaking the quiet.

She blinked, pulled from her thoughts. “Uh, yeah.” She patted down her jean pockets, checking front, then back. ”…Somewhere.”

“If you don’t, you can always crash with us.” He offered casually. “There’s more than enough room, and I don’t want you waking Sinclair trying to get someone to open up.”

She laughed again, patting her back pocket now. “It’s okay. Here it is.”

Smoke watched her pull the key ring free, his mind drifting for a second when she turned around, her figure bending just slightly to line the key up with the locc since she couldn’t see that well in the dark without her glasses.

Couldn’t feel the key with all that ass back there, he thought, mouth twitching before he quickly checked himself, eyes raising the second she turned back to him. She looked soft again. The fire from earlier was gone, her stress dimmed like the rest of the night. Her eyes glimmered in the moonlight, lashes long and glossy lips catching what little light was left. Her voice broke the moment.

“Goodnight.” She said gently.

“Goodnight.” He replied, his voice low and a little rough.

Juicy started to push the door open but hesitated, turning to look back. Smoke was already descending the steps, his shoulders broad, head ducked, like he’d made peace with leaving.

“Smoke.” She called, stopping him.

He paused on about the third step, glancing back. “Yeah?”

Juicy lingered in the doorway. Her lips parted like she had something to say, but nothing came out. Her fingers played with the edge of her jacket sleeve. He noticed her nerves instantly.

“What is it, Ju?” He asked, brow narrowing in concern and stepping one foot up.

She swallowed. “Did you mean what you said?”

Smoke blinked. “What I said?” He questioned.

“Earlier.” She began softly. “At the rink. Did you mean it?”

There was a long pause—pregnant, heavy, something sitting thick between them that neither wanted to name just yet. The kind of silence that tugged on heartstrings and made the air feel full of something tender.

“I did.” He said simply. His voice was honest. Steady.

Juicy’s eyes fluttered once. Then something cracked open inside her, soft and trembling. She stepped forward without thinking, crossing the space between them in two strides and threw her arms around his neck, her lips landing on his in a kiss that felt like a storm giving way to calm. Her feet stayed on the porch while he stood a step below her, but he reached up for her like he’d been waiting.

His hands landed on her waist, a bit of warm skin meeting his fingers where her shirt had lifted. The contact was electric, but the kiss was affectionate—slow, meaningful. Her hand curled behind his head, thumb brushing over the waves at the nape of his neck.

The kiss was tentative. It was full of the quiet ache of wanting someone for a long time but never knowing if you could say it out loud. Her lips pressed against his like they belonged there, her body warm against his as she stood a step above him. His hands found her waist instantly, skin meeting skin where her shirt had ridden up, and he breathed her in.

Juicy’s hand found the back of his head, fingers threading into his waves. The kiss deepened, languid and tender, a slow dance of mouths and want and words they couldn’t say.

When they broke apart, the need for air becoming undeniable, Smoke didn’t move—just stared into her eyes, dazed. Her gloss left a faint trace on his lips, and she looked at it before meeting his gaze again.

“I feel the same.” She whispered, rubbing her nose against his.

He blinked, stunned for a beat. Smoke didn’t speak. He didn’t need to. catching her lips again in a kiss that was heavier, needier. His hands slid lower, resting just above the swell of her ass as her own hand tugged him closer. Juicy hummed into the kiss, and he swallowed the sound like a promise.

When they broke apart again, they couldn’t stop pecking each other’s lips—one, two, three soft kisses shared like a secret. Soft, delayed kisses, forehead to forehead, breath to breath, her eyes closed, and his stayed on her. She looked peaceful, and for a second, it felt like the world had gone quiet just for them.

Finally, Juicy leaned back, her palms resting lightly on his shoulders. “Have a good night, okay?”

Smoke nodded, and so did she. She leaned in, pressing a gentle kiss to his lips, then turned and opened her door. Before disappearing, she looked back over her shoulder.

He was still watching her, eyes tender.

She smiled bashfully, locking the door behind her. Smoke lingered on the steps for a moment, heart still racing, lips still tingling. He exhaled through his nose, smiled to himself, and made his way back home across the street.

Everything felt different now. Everything felt like something had finally begun.

They would’ve stayed like that all night if the world would’ve let them.

But Juicy slowly pulled back, hands drifting to his shoulders. She looked into his face, eyes half-lidded and warm. “Have a good night, okay?”

Smoke nodded, his throat tight. “Yeah. You too.”

She leaned in one last time, pressing a gentle kiss to his lips. He didn’t move until she slipped inside, the door closing softly behind her. She paused just before locking it, her bashful smile the last thing he saw before the bolt slid home.

Smoke stood there for a moment longer, staring at the closed door. Then he exhaled through his nose, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips, and made his way across the street in silence.

@the2daily4scoop @childishgambinaax @notapradagurl7 @marley1773 @prettyisasprettydoes1306 @synsualsage @wabi-sabi1090 @jackierose902109 @simethingidk @theunsweetenedtruth @blondfortheweekend @nunya7394 @brattyfics @ramp-it-up @afrosandsweatpants @blkandchic @foxybrownsugababe @avoidthings @lovelylocs @thickemadame @greeneggsanpam @blkgirlsneedlove2 @abrienirvana @j0joworld @j0ysyndr0m3 @vile-harlot @inkdrippeddreams @imsohappyilovekbop @bbymuthaaa @susanhill @angryflowerwitch @aliensuperstvr @blackisy2k @the2daily4scoop @prettyisasprettydoes1306 @michifilmz @wabi-sabi1090 @jackierose902109 @ingeniousmindoftune @-harmonytbh @aesthetic-lyssa @yamst3rdamctrl @vaintya1

[theonlyonesora]

The Third Rule

Lily x Oscar Piastri x You (Reader)

Synopsis. “They were a pair—until we became a triangle.”

Chapter 01 – Pocket Boyfriend

The sun hit just the right angle on campus that day, golden and soft, like it had been filtered through a summer memory. I had collapsed onto the grass beside our little group, my backpack flung somewhere behind me and the weight of my finance finals finally peeling off my chest. I was free. My brain was still buzzing with formulas and late-night study sessions, but the only math I wanted to think about now was how many drinks I could responsibly down at tonight’s party.

“I swear if I failed macroeconomics I’m transferring to a cult in the woods,” Meg said, sipping iced coffee like it was the blood of her enemies.

“I’m going full wine aunt this holiday. Just me, my dog, a playlist called ‘crying at brunch,’ and no contact with reality,” Jessy declared, lying flat on her back with her sunglasses sliding down her nose.

And then there was Lily—perfect posture, hair somehow unbothered by the wind, scribbling something in her planner like we weren’t already mentally clocked out for the semester.

Lily and I had met in the first month of college. She was studying engineering, which meant she said things like “thermodynamics” and “fluid mechanics” and actually understood them. I was the finance girl with chaotic energy and a too-big planner filled with dreams and half-baked budgeting tips I never followed. We clicked instantly. She was the responsible one, I was the one doing tequila shots in the dorm hallway on a Tuesday. We balanced each other like opposite ends of a seesaw—somehow always meeting in the middle.

And yet, for all our closeness, there was always one ghost in the room: Oscar. Her long-term boyfriend. Formula 1 driver. Constantly flying. Constantly in another timezone. I hadn’t met him yet, not properly. He was always just on the other end of a FaceTime or in the stories she told, but never quite real.

“You should meet him,” she’d say. “You two are weirdly alike. It’s actually kinda scary.”

But the meeting never came. He was in Monaco. Or Melbourne. Or training. Or sleeping. But he never once seemed to mind that Lily and I were basically joined at the hip. And truthfully, I liked that. I liked that he trusted her. Trusted us. Because I loved her. Not in that way—not really. At least, I didn’t think so. Until that one day on the grass.

Jessy’s voice broke through the sleepy lull of our post-finals haze.

“So (Y/N),” she asked with a wicked glint in her eyes, “have you done it?”

“Done what?” I blinked, half-dozing.

“Ménage à trois.”

“Excuse me—what? It’s noon,” I groaned, sitting up. “It is way too early for this kind of scandal.”

“Just answer,” she pressed.

I laughed, brushing a blade of grass off my jeans. “No, I haven’t. Never done it.”

Jessy raised an eyebrow. “Not even curious?”

Before I could open my mouth, Lily’s voice slid in, soft and casual. “Are you curious?”

I turned to her. “Are you?”

She shrugged, playful, but something flickered in her expression—quiet, electric. “I don’t know… I think it can’t just be with anyone. But wouldn’t it be strange to do it with strangers?”

There was a pause. An almost imperceptible shift in the air. The kind of silence where a thousand things go unsaid but somehow still felt.

“I did it with a cousin once,” Jessy said, so casually she might as well have been talking about borrowing sugar.

“Oh my God,” Meg choked, nearly spitting her coffee.

“What?” Jessy blinked, genuinely confused.

“It’s family!” I said, horrified but laughing.

“It was high school!”

“Still!” I replied, shaking my head, half-disgusted, half-intrigued, and fully spiraling into the kind of laughter that makes your ribs ache.

Lily was laughing too, but something in her gaze lingered. She looked at me for a moment longer than usual, head tilted slightly, like she was filing something away in the corner of her mind for later. Like she was imagining something.

And I should have known then. I should have felt it—that thread pulling tighter, twisting quietly around us, waiting for the perfect night to snap.

.

Lily’s room smelled like coconut body lotion, hot flat iron, and vanilla perfume—basically the scent of girls getting ready to destroy lives

“You realize we’re just going to a bar, right?” I said, grinning. “Not the Oscars.”

“You can’t call it a ‘just a bar’ when it’s finals week and the entire city is out celebrating,” she replied, adjusting a gold hoop. “Besides, it’s been forever since we all went out.”

“We went out last week.”

“I said all

I rolled my eyes and stepped further into the bathroom, stealing a pump of her lotion while she was distracted. We'd been living together for four months now in a spacious apartment two blocks from campus—big enough for sleepovers in each other's rooms, dance parties in the living room, and nights spent sharing pizza and soft secrets. It was easy with Lily. Always had been.

And just as she picked up her phone to check the time, it started buzzing. Oscar.

“Speak of the devil and he FaceTimes,” I muttered, smirking.

Lily answered, holding the phone up to her face. Her voice instantly softened. “Hey, babe.”

I backed up a little to give them space but hovered just enough to be nosy.

“Are you with (Y/N)?” Oscar asked through the speaker.

I leaned into the frame dramatically, still in my towel. “Hello, pocket boyfriend.”

Oscar chuckled. “Hello, trouble.”

“Are you still calling him that?” Lily asked, amused but mock-exasperated.

“What? He’s always in your pocket! I’ve never seen him outside of a phone screen. Honestly, I’m starting to believe he’s AI.”

“Deeply hurt,” Oscar said with a hand to his chest. “You wound me.”

“But you're so polite about it,” I teased. “That’s what makes it worse.”

Our dynamic was weirdly natural for two people who’d never met in person. Friendly banter. Inside jokes. I’d always respected the space he and Lily shared, but I’d also never shied away from being me

“You two going out tonight?” he asked, brushing a lock of damp hair off his forehead.

Lily nodded, tilting the phone to show her outfit. “Yeah. The girls and I. Just bar hopping. (Y/N) made us promise we wouldn’t end up doing karaoke again.”

“That was one time!” I shouted from the bathroom.

Oscar grinned. “Just make sure she drinks water this time.”

“I always

Lily laughed. “Don’t worry. I’ll take care of her.”

Oscar’s eyes softened at that. “You always do.”

There was a little pause then. Just a second too long. Like the sentence sat there between us, warm and humming with something neither of us fully named. Because yeah—she always did. And sometimes, I worried I let her.

“I gotta get dressed,” I said, suddenly aware of the towel slipping a little too far down my chest. “Nice seeing you, Oscar.”

“Soon, I hope,” he replied. “In real life. Not just FaceTime.”

Lily smiled, eyes flicking between the two of us. “Maybe we’ll finally make it happen this summer.”

“Careful,” I said with a wink. “I might actually steal him.”

“She’d probably let you,” Oscar joked.

And Lily?

But she didn’t say no.

[thesvnandthemooon]

𝐢𝐧 𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐥𝐢𝐟𝐞

a/n: part 2. idk

summary: natasha romanoff x married!reader; nat and you used to be in love. now, years later, you're married to a wealthy man and have a daughter with him. will running into natasha change everything?

warnings: none

word count: 6.4k

part 1, part 2, part 3, …

✷ ✷ ✷ ✷ ✷ ✷ ✷ ✷ ✷ ✷ ✷ ✷

— COOKIES AND CONVERSATIONS —

"Natasha?"

Her eyes lock with yours as she slowly straightens up, making Nina let go of her sleeve in the process. You pull your daughter closer, staring at Natasha incredulously.

"Y/N", she finally says, a tad too coolly for your liking.

"What are you doing here?", you ask, still wary. Nina has grabbed your hand, a bit confused by how icy and distant the interaction between you two seems. You both said you're friends, after all. She's too young to grasp just how complex your relationship actually is.

'Friends' is far from the truth.

Natasha looks around the lobby, noticing the stares she's getting from strangers.

Yes, she specifically. You're a familiar face around here, probably visiting every week with your daughter in tow. She, however? She's unfamiliar. A face that stands out, someone who doesn't fit in. Her traitorous brain remarks that she should be used to that feeling by now. But she isn't.

"Can we maybe move this outside?", she asks quietly, her eyes flitting back to meet yours. You frown, unsure whether you should agree to her request.

But then again, Natasha is safe. Despite the breakup, despite the years of distance — you trust her. Part of you also realizes that your conversation is being overheard, which you don't like. Too many people know too much about you already, so there's no need to give them more stuff to talk about.

"Fine." You reluctantly follow her, making sure you're holding on to your daughter. No way is she running off again. That'd be the second time within less than a week.

You look at her as soon as you're outside, standing by your car. Natasha pushes her hands into the pockets of her coat, observing you out of the corner of her eye. She still can't shake that habit, it seems — always on the lookout, always studying you. It's as endearing as it is frustrating.

"So?", you eventually say, your thumb rubbing Nina's fingers. You're trying to calm yourself down. Or keep yourself calm. Either of those. "Answer me."

Natasha's gaze briefly sweeps over your surroundings. Traffic, an empty sidewalk, that gigantic building you just exited. Nobody in vicinity, which is a relief.

"I wanted to see you", she says. A half-lie. She did want to see you, in some way at least, but that's not what she's here for. She came her to find evidence, to gather intel about your precious husband.

Can she tell you that, though?

No. Not yet.

Your expression falters for a moment, the mask of indifference crumbling and vanishing. A variety of emotions flickers across your face, unreadable yet obvious. Natasha can see every single one, making her chest feel tight with guilt.

"You've got great timing", you say weakly, feeling the early autumn breeze brush over your cheeks. "It's been seven years."

"It's been a little more than five days", Natasha corrects you, still stoic.

"You know what I mean", you say sharply. "That thing at the art gallery? Doesn't count. Besides: if you wanted to see me, why'd you come to my husband's office?"

"I didn't know this was his office", she immediately replies, which — to you — is even more ridiculous than her claiming she wanted to see you. She's a spy, for god's sake. She doesn't do anything without a purpose, especially not something like this.

"So this is a coincidence?" You let out a hollow laugh. "Natasha-"

"Okay", she says, stepping closer. You quickly look at her, feeling the urge to take a step back. You can't get close to her again. "Maybe I did know he works here. But how else was I supposed to find you?"

"Not at all would've been a start."

"Charming", she says drily, her attempt at concealing the hurt in her voice failing. "Nice to see you too."

"Oh, come on." You sigh. "I'm sorry, but this...it's odd. I didn't think you'd be the one to seek me out first after, you know...", you trail off. She smiles bitterly, averting her eyes.

"Not all of us hold grudges", she says, softer this time. "I guess you're just harder to forget than I thought."

There's a teasing lilt to her voice, something that's meant to protect you both. It doesn't work, but you appreciate the effort. Plus, it manages to elicit a small smile from you. That's more than enough for Natasha.

Nina, ever the restless one, lets go of you to grab Natasha's hand again. The woman looks down at her, a smile appearing on her lips. The child is staring at her as if she's some kind of superhero, which is pretty much spot on.

"Looks like I've been replaced", you comment, the smile on your face turning more genuine now.

Nina is sociable. She loves people of pretty much all ages and is guaranteed to talk their ears off. Still, this kind of immediate fascination is something you haven't seen before. Like mother like daughter, it seems. When you first met Natasha, you felt this kind of enchantment as well. It's a spell that's hard to break.

"I am very likable", Natasha boasts playfully, grinning at your daughter. The little one turns to look at you, pleased that she made the pretty lady smile at her.

"Mommy, she's nice", she pipes up. "Can we get cookies? You promised."

"I did promise cookies", you sigh, shooting her an affectionate look. Then you glance at Natasha. "We were supposed to pick up a snack on our way home", you say sheepishly. "Care to join us?"

"Change of heart?", the redhead teases.

"Yeah, well..." You crack a smile. You're aware you went from pissed off to mildly flustered, all within the span of mere minutes. It'd throw her off guard if she wasn't still familiar with it. "It's always been difficult to stay mad at you."

Natasha hums, looking at Nina again. The girl smiles as if on cue, bouncing on the spot.

"Please?"

"Will I get a cookie, too?", Natasha asks, raising her eyebrows.

Nina nods. "You can have one", she says, her tone generous yet slightly self-important. You and Natasha exchange an amused look — it's a kind and genuine offer, but the way she's saying it makes it sound like the cookies are hers to give away. You're starting to see why your parents have called your daughter spoiled before.

"Looks like the boss has spoken. So, you're joining us?"

"I can't say no to Miss Nina here", Natasha confirms, squeezing Nina's hand.

"Nobody can", you huff, smiling, and take Nina's free hand. "There's a café down the block. We can walk there."

To say that this is weird would be more than just an understatement.

You haven't seen her in years. Haven't talked to her, haven't texted her, nothing. Refusal to reach out from both sides resulted in complete radio silence. And now?

Now you're walking down the street together, both of you holding onto Nina as she walks between you. You're not talking — thankfully, your daughter has decided to do that for you. She's chattering nonstop, her little voice ringing through the air.

It's warm inside the café, with the scent of pumpkin spice wafting right into your faces. Nina instantly lets go of you both, running up to the counter to inspect the pastries. She clasps her hands together in front of her, as if to prevent herself from touching the glass that's separating her from the sweet treats.

"She's a good kid", Natasha says quietly as you catch up to the girl. "She must get that from you."

You smile slightly, glancing at the woman next to you. Your gaze gets stuck, lingers, traces her features. You never could've forgotten what she looks like — not in a million years — but she's even more beautiful than you remembered.

Natasha notices you staring. She looks at you from the corner of her eye, subtly tilting her head. "What?", she asks softly.

"Nothing", you respond in a low murmur, quickly digging through your purse. "It's just weird seeing you here."

She manages a faint smile, silently agreeing with your words. Her eyes zero in on your wallet as you reach for a few dollar bills and her hand comes up to gently stop you.

"I got this", she says, reaching for her own money.

"No, hey-"

"Hush", she says firmly, then gives the barista a polite smile. She lets Nina order her own cookie (the rainbow one, of course), then she lists off everything else. Chocolate chip cookies — a classic —, an espresso and your favorite beverage.

You hide your smile, trying to get over the fact that she still remembers.

You find a quiet, secluded corner of the café, and sit down there. The sky is littered with clouds, covering the sun and allowing the soft lights of the café to be the star of the show.

Nina is tucked into the corner seat between you, her little hands breaking the cookie in two. Her excitement over something so mundane is serving as a buffer between you and Natasha, helping you through initial awkward silences.

"It's a nice place", Natasha comments, taking a sip of her espresso. "Much better than that place in D.C. with the squeaky chairs."

"And the bitter coffee", you add, looking at her. You reach out, tapping the frame of the glasses she's wearing. Those are definitely new. "Didn't know you need glasses now."

"I don't", Natasha says, quickly sliding the glasses off her face. Her eyes meet yours, deep green and softened. "They just help me be recognized less, believe it or not."

"I recognized you", you counter, stirring the hot drink in front of you before taking a tentative sip.

"Yes, you did", she says pointedly, glancing at Nina as she holds out a piece of her cookie. The girl has her head tilted sweetly.

"Trade?"

"Sure, honey", Natasha says, handing her a piece of her own cookie in exchange. Then she focuses on you again. "Now let's hope the rest of Manhattan isn't as sharp-eyed as you."

You roll your eyes, an amused sound escaping you. "Well, don't look at me. I don't think a pair of glasses could ever make you blend in." You pause, a thought crossing your mind. "What are you hiding from, anyways?"

Natasha looks at you, her brain — again — settling on a half-truth. "You know me. From the rest of Manhattan, pretty much."

"Right", you say, smiling faintly. "Always on the run."

"Old habits die hard", she says wryly, leaning back with her arms crossed. Irony — her very own way of suppressing the guilt that's starting to rear its head. She's lying to you pretty much constantly, keeping secrets and finding excuses.

Natasha has reasons for that. She can't just tell you what's going on, not until she knows for sure. Until then, you might be of use.

Telling herself that is easier than admitting why she's actually sitting here with you.

"Funny. I thought you'd have found some peace by now." You tilt your head pointedly. "Or at least a better disguise."

"Me and peace in the same sentence? Never thought I'd see the day", she says, finishing her espresso. "And the disguise? It's low-maintenance."

You let out a sound that's between a laugh and a scoff, wiping a few cookie crumbs off Nina's face absently. She rubs her eyes tiredly and you place a soothing hand on her back. "You were never low-maintenance."

"I thought I was charmingly uncomplicated", she smiles, briefly glancing at Nina to check on her. The girl looks sleepy, so it must be nap time for her soon.

"Yes, sure. If that's what you'd call having three passports in the glove compartment whenever you drove me anywhere."

The sole purpose of the smirk on Natasha's face is to hide a wince. It wasn't just the passports — it was everything that came with being with her. Switching cars while driving in the middle of the night, being prepared to run at any given moment. Making sure she could up and go whenever she wanted. Never entirely grounded, one foot always in the shadows.

Her existence was unpredictable, untethered. A stark contrast to the safe but stifling life you lead now, filled with monotony and routines.

Being with her allowed you to soar, even if it sometimes meant crashing down.

"Touché", Natasha says, watching you smooth down Nina's hair. Yet another new mannerism you've picked up — an endearing one at that. "Makes me wonder why you didn't run."

"Maybe I liked the thrill", you reply, looking at her again. Nina's head droops onto your arm for a moment. She's definitely ready for her nap. "Or maybe I liked the person behind the passports."

"That person hasn't changed as much as you may think."

"I think we've both changed."

Natasha watches you scoop the yawning child into your lap. Nina nestles against you, her eyes closing.

She never thought she'd see you like this: all motherly and nurturing, quietly soothing a child — your child. So maybe you have a point. Maybe you did change.

"Maybe", she admits, giving a small smile. "Some things don't, though."

"Like what?", you ask quietly, a hint of challenge in your voice.

Natasha leans forward, her gaze holding yours. The café, the people around you, the noises and smells — it all disappears. At least for a moment, it does.

"Like the way I recognized you, too."

. . .

— THE WEB UNFOLDS —

Her office is small but efficient, filled with the tools of her trade. Screens glowing with data, paperwork and open files scattered across her desk, a steaming mug of tea. She toys with a pen as she scans the financial documents she retrieved once more, one name standing out: Durant Enterprises.

Multiple transfers to and from said company, the amounts large and the descriptions vague. It's the frequency that makes her pause. This isn't just routine business — it's deliberate.

Natasha feels on edge as she puts her pen aside, now pulling up a secondary window on her screen. She cross-references the company with known entities in her database and starts to dig.

At first, Durant Enterprises doesn't raise alarms. Everything seems ordinary until more troubling details surface.

Natasha pauses, her hands stilling. She stares at the screen, feeling a chill run down her spine.

Ties to overseas operations, suspiciously under-the-radar accounts — and, most notably, an association with human trafficking syndicates.

She swallows, her fingers continuing to move over the keyboard in a rapid pace. A list of contacts connected to Ethan catches her eye, several names matching aliases from SHIELD's database of traffickers and corrupt officials. A few of the numbers that are listed appear to be burner phones, heightening her suspicions.

Natasha plugs in the USB stick and runs a deep scan of the files on Ethan's computer. A dense folder of corporate documents, mostly financial data — endless spreadsheets, balance sheets, transaction records. But, nestled among them, an invoice marked for 'freight services' from a shipping company she's never heard of.

It's not an innocent transaction — the total is unsettlingly large.

She pulls up the details, her eyes narrowing as she connects the dots to previous intel. And there it is again: an obscure company, linked to the same shadowy network she's seen before.

Dammit, Bailey, she thinks, taking a hasty sip of tea. What are you dragging them into?

As expected, her thoughts have drifted back to you. To you and Nina, completely oblivious to what Ethan — the man who's supposed to protect you and care for you — is doing.

And then there's Natasha — about to tear this entire network down, about to expose him to his family and countless others. She knows you'll have to find out eventually; it's only fair, after all. You deserve to know the full truth, even if it'll add yet another weight to your shoulders.

Part of her wonders whether you'll forgive her. She's been lying to you ever since that night at the art gallery, and she continues lying to you constantly. It's what she has to do to protect you and Nina.

Lingering affection wars with duty. Shield you from all of this or tell you the truth, let you live in this little bubble you've created for yourself or make it burst. Natasha shouldn't let her feelings get in the way, especially not when this entire mess concerns you and your daughter as well.

Every part of her being is trying to stop her from getting you involved in this. You don't deserve to be a part of this — but here you are.

And she's certain she'll do everything in her power to protect you, even if it means losing you once and for all.

Natasha sets the tea aside and grabs her phone. Her finger hovers above the call button for an excruciatingly long moment, then she decides against it. She leans back in her chair, starting to massage her temples. A dull ache has started to form behind her eyes.

It's a realization, a resolve, that hurts.

She'll have to use you somehow.

. . .

— MOMENTS IN FOCUS —

The sunlight filtering through the windows has a richness to it, making everything appear softer and more vibrant. Leaves dance in front of the floor to ceiling windows, shades of amber and russet that make the scenery outside look like the perfect October morning.

You look up from the ingredients in front of you — bananas, berries, a handful of spinach, all ready to be thrown into the blender — when you hear footsteps approach. Ethan pauses at your side, briefly glancing up from his phone to press a short kiss to your cheek. 

"Good morning", he says, looking like the epitome of effortlessness. Hair wet and slicked back, a crisp white robe tied loosely around his waist. Nina doesn't even notice him; she's too engrossed in the picture in front of her, her tongue sticking out as she focuses on coloring within the lines of the butterfly. "What's on the menu?"

"Smoothies, scrambled eggs, yogurt with granola", you list off, turning on the blender. It hums softly as the colors swirl together, creating a nice pinkish shade.

"Hear that, Nina?", he asks, leaning against the counter next to you. She barely looks at him before going back to coloring, now choosing a purple crayon. "Jesus. We've really got to make sure she pays more attention. This is rude behavior."

"She's tired", you defend her, pouring the smoothie into two glasses and one plastic cup. "Also, it's 7 in the morning. You can't expect her to function properly at this hour, Ethan."

"Why not?", he counters, reaching around you to grab one of the smoothies. He takes a few big gulps, already sitting down at the breakfast table and reaching for the newspaper. "She's almost four. It's time she learns some manners."

"She has manners", you retort, crouching down in front of your daughter. She stops coloring, her eyes meeting yours expectantly as she waits for you to say something. "Breakfast is ready, sweetheart. Are you hungry?"

"No", Nina says, but gets up anyway. You smile and swiftly lift her into the air, then sit her down on the chair with her booster seat. She reaches for her cup, holding it with both hands as she takes a sip. "That's yummy."

"Thank you, baby." A kiss is planted on the top of her head, then you join them at the table.

Ethan looks up from the newspaper, casually drumming his fingers on the surface of the table. "Do you have anything planned for today?"

"Not that I know, no", you say, glancing at him. "Why? Did something come up?"

"Oh, yeah. This magazine — Art & Culture Monthly, you probably know them — called this morning. They want to feature the gallery's grand opening in their upcoming issue. It's a pretty big deal, you know? Anyway, they'll interview me and also feature our family."

You can hear the excitement in his voice, causing you to smile faintly. Of course — another thing he can add to his long list of achievements. You can't believe you thought he'd ask if you wanted to do something normal. Go to a pumpkin patch, maybe visit a park. Simple, ordinary things.

"Whatever. They want to take a few pictures of us later today — you, me, the kid. It'll be great for the gallery's reputation, and it'll really solidify our place in the art scene."

Your smile fades a bit. A photo shoot. You've done a couple of those before, but they were always for private usage. You don't want Nina's face to be printed in some magazine everyone can buy, even if basically no one would recognize her anyway.

"I don't know", you say hesitantly, handing Nina a napkin. She has some of the smoothie smeared across her chin and cheeks. "It's a bit unexpected. Plus, Nina is too young for that. She won't be able to sit still for that long."

"Hey, it's okay", he says, brushing off your concerns. "You'll be fine, Nina. Won't you? Anyways-" He turns to you without waiting for an answer, "it's a huge opportunity for us — for me, really. They want to showcase the perfect family, and we're pretty much spot on."

The perfect family — husband, wife, cute little daughter. Well-off but still relatable, at least in a way. Always happy, always fitting society's expectations. You're tired of being pushed into this mold.

You sigh, glancing at your daughter. She looks at you, not understanding too much. "Photos?", she asks curiously.

"Yeah, photos. A photo shoot", you say, feeling uneasy. "Are you sure this is necessary?"

"Come on", your husband pushes impatiently. "It won't take too long. Besides — it's not like you have anything to do, do you? You'd spend the entire day sitting around. At least you'll make yourself useful."

You roll your eyes. Yes, that's definitely the case. It's not like you have a toddler to take care of, right? And even if you do — it can't be as hard as what Ethan does, obviously.

"When do we have to be there?"

"Two hours", he says happily, eating a bite of his scrambled eggs. "By the way, did you put chives in this? You know I don't like chives."

. . .

It's an upscale studio, bustling with assistants, lights and backdrops. Ethan is just as polished as the space you're in, immediately stepping up to the photographer — an older man, balding, with tiny glasses and a sweater vest — and staff to charm them. You keep your daughter close, feeling out of place.

As much as you hate this — you have to admit that Nina looks impossibly cute in her outfit. A white cabled fisherman sweater, matching yours, paired with denim jeans in a light wash. A pastel yellow headband is keeping her hair out of her face, making her cheeks look even rosier than usually.

"Mommy, this is itchy", she whispers, tugging at the front of her sweater. You grimace, quietly sympathizing with your daughter. The fabric doesn't exactly feel nice on your skin.

"I know, honey", you reply in a hushed voice, making sure the assistants and photographer don't hear you.

"And it's bright", she adds, squinting as she accidentally looks at one of the lights. You snort in amusement, gently making her turn away so she doesn't let the brightness fry her eyes.

"Yeah, I know. It'll be over soon, alright?"

"You ready?", one of the assistants says, waving you over. You nod and gently nudge Nina along.

The photographer positions you in various poses — Nina perched on Ethan's knee, Ethan with his arm around you, you holding Nina. It feels rehearsed, like they know exactly what they want to sell. Which, realistically speaking, is probably the case here.

Picture after picture, pose after pose. You're not the only one who starts to get restless. You spot Nina fidgeting more than once, subtly reaching into her pockets to make sure her crayons are still there — crayons she brought along secretly.

"Stop that, please", the photographer's voice cuts through the air. You don't like the irritated tone with which he's speaking one bit, but you decide to ignore him.

Nina stops, quickly pulling her hand out of her pocket.

"Yes, perfect. Ideal!", he gushes, continuing to snap pictures of you. You smile, but it doesn't reach your eyes. You silently wonder whether anyone will look at the pictures and realize that you'd rather be anywhere else. Ethan won't, that's for sure — he's beaming, oblivious to your discomfort.

"Mommy?", Nina whispers as you pick her up, already clutching her crayons in her smaller hand. You're finally done after what feels like an eternity of posing and smiling stiffly. "Can we go home now?"

"Yes, sweetheart, we're going home", you nod, letting her nestle into you. "Let's just finish up here, okay?"

"Okay", she mumbles, her crayons pressed against the clean fabric of your sweater. They'll most likely leave stains, but you couldn't care less about that. You're just relieved you're done with this.

The drive home isn't silent, to your dismay. Ethan keeps going on and on and on about how great the photos are and how important this is and how it'll certainly elevate his public image. He's talking so much you're surprised Nina managed to doze off in her seat, her chin resting on her chest.

You don't bother responding — instead, you just stare out the window, your mind drifting. You wonder whether Natasha would've laughed at how absurd this whole thing is. You wonder what's she's doing, whether she's thinking about you.

In that moment, you get a text message.

Natasha: Hey, Y/N. This is a bit random, but does Ethan know a few guys in the whole arts world?

I'm looking into something for Tony. — 2.17 pm

You: Hey! I can ask him for a few of his

contacts and send you a list, maybe? — 2.17 pm

Natasha: That's perfect, thank you. — 2.18 pm

You look to your left when Nina stirs. She looks at your phone, rubbing one of her eyes with the back of her hand.

"Who is that?"

"That's Natasha", you say. Ethan doesn't even notice. He's now telling your chauffeur about the feature, again rambling about the interview and the art gallery. Part of you is thankful for that.

"Natasha?" Nina suddenly doesn't seem so sleepy anymore as her eyes light up. "Say hi!"

You smile at your daughter's enthusiasm. Seems like she's really starting to adore the redhead.

You: By the way, Nina says hi. She's all smiley. — 2.19pm

Natasha: Right back at her :) — 2.20pm

Natasha: Are you guys in town next week? There's this park near

the old tower, I think she'd love it. (I promise I won't hog the cookies

this time.) — 2.21pm

You glance at Nina. She looks at you, wide-eyed and practically buzzing with excitement.

"Natasha's asking if we want to go to a park with her", you say, reaching out to adjust her seatbelt. "What do you say, NeeNee?"

Your daughter immediately nods. "Yes, I want to go! Can we go?"

You smile faintly. "Sure, we'll go."

You text Natasha back, confirming the day and time. Then you slip your phone into your pocket.

You let out a small breath, your lips curving into a smile before you even realize it. The weight of your lousy day lingers, but it seems lighter now.

The idea of seeing Natasha tugs at your chest in a way you weren't prepared to unpack. It's almost absurd, how a simple text exchange could bring you such warmth. There's a faint flutter beneath your ribs, caused by a mix of excitement and a wary kind of anticipation.

It's been years, yet you still don't know what it is about Natasha Romanoff that can do this to you with such little effort.

. . .

It's a nice day — the October sun is warm but not overbearing, the chatter of children is echoing through the open space. You get out of the car and scoop the squirming child out of her booster seat, her hand tightly clutching her favorite stuffed bear. You set her on the ground, making sure she doesn't just run off.

"Mommy, can we go there first?", she asks, pointing at the swings. You smile, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.

"Let's find Natasha first, sweetheart. Then maybe she can push you."

Your suggestion earns a gleeful nod. With her hand clasped in yours, you start making your way down the winding path leading into the park. The late-afternoon light dapples the ground through the trees, creating a peaceful but slightly surreal atmosphere — though maybe that's just your nerves.

You spot Natasha near a quiet corner of the park, leaning casually against the wooden fence by the playground. Her pose is relaxed, but her sharp eyes are scanning the area around her.

Once she sees you, her face softens.

"Natasha!", Nina yells, voice bubbling with excitement, and frees herself from your gentle grip to dart forward.

Natasha crouches down just in time to catch the girl in a gentle hug, her expression warm. "Hey, Tiny!"

You ignore the nickname and the way it sends butterflies through your stomach. Instead you approach her, your steps hesitant but steady. She straightens up, her eyes meeting yours, and the park fades into the background.

You feel a small rush of warmth — one that leaves you confused.

"Hi", you say, your voice quieter than intended.

"Hi", she responds, her tone equally soft. But her gaze lingers, taking you in, and the curve of her lips hints at something deeper. "Should we sit? Or does Nina have a playground mission I should know about?"

Nina tugs at Natasha's hand, a grin on her face. "Swings first!"

The little girl manages to slightly break the tension. You let out a laugh, shooting your daughter a fond look. "Looks like you've got your orders."

"Please", Nina adds, remembering the magic word. She keeps pulling at Natasha's hand, who plays along easily. She follows Nina to the playground, all while exchanging a brief look with you — a silent 'Is this okay?'

"Go ahead", you say, nodding, and follow them to the swings.

Leaves crunch beneath the soles of your shoes, the air having a slight bite to it already. A boy, slightly older than Nina, runs past with his father chasing after him. Laughter and voices carry through the air, allowing you to relax a little.

Natasha makes sure Nina's holding on tight before she takes the lead in pushing her. You stand next to them, arms loosely crossed over your chest to preserve some warmth.

"Higher!", Nina promptly demands, trying to glance at Natasha over the thick fabric of her scarf.

"Higher? What are you, a little daredevil in training? You're going to give your mom a heart attack!"

"She's already started", you say, mildly exasperated. "You should've seen her last week, when she tried to climb the bookshelf."

"Huh." Natasha smiles, her eyes briefly meeting yours. There it is again, that annoying tug of warmth. "Sounds like someone I used to know."

You huff, but you can't deny the truth behind her words. You shrug, pushing your hands into the pockets of your coat.

"You never complained."

"I didn't", she agrees, gently stopping the swing when Nina starts to talk about the merry-go-round. "Doesn't mean you didn't make my nerves fray, though."

"Please." You start walking to the merry-go-round, watching Nina speed ahead. "If anyone's nerves were frayed, it's mine. I watched you leave for missions on a weekly basis. I can't even count how many times I stitched you up afterwards."

"You make it sound like I was some kind of wrecking ball", she smirks.

"You didn't need to be." You let out an amused chuckle, your eyes glued to Nina as she sits down on the circular bench of the merry-go-round. "You were a force of nature, and I spent most of my time just trying to hold it together while you ran off into the chaos."

"You always did", she agrees, her voice quieter now. You stop when you reach the merry-go-round, watching Nina as she starts to spin around. "You were good at it, though. At stitching me up, I mean. Better than I deserved most days."

"Very true", you say, trying to keep it light. "I think I deserved a medal for keeping up with you."

"You mean for putting up with me?", Natasha corrects you, her hand briefly touching the handle of the merry-go-round to make sure it doesn't spin too fast.

A faint smile forms on your face. She's not entirely wrong — some of the time, it really was 'putting up with her'. Rolling with it, with her lifestyle, with the way every day seemed to be pure chaos.

You know it's not her fault. It's who she is, it's the life she ended up choosing for herself after never getting to have a choice. You were patient, too — you understood why she had to do all those things. Why she could never just rest.

"I'm just saying: most people would've thrown their hands up after the third emergency stitch job", you say mock seriously, earning a quiet laugh.

"Good thing you're not most people", she says, her smirk letting some tenderness shimmer through.

"Yeah", you agree, watching her. She's looking at Nina again, making sure she isn't spinning too fast or getting dizzy. Again and again you realize the same thing: only days later, Natasha fits in perfectly. Maybe that's what scares you the most. "Real good."

. . .

With Nina playing in a sandbox, you and Natasha get to be alone for a moment. You never take your eyes off your daughter to make sure she stays right where she is, but most of your attention is on the woman sitting next to you.

"I never knew how fast things could change", you speak softly, your words lingering in the chilly air. "I mean — one moment, I was making all these big plans. And now?"

"...now, you're a mom", Natasha says, smiling faintly as Nina smushes down her sandcastle.

"Yeah, exactly."

"You found a calmer life", she says, half to herself. It's bittersweet — she's glad you made it to a place where you don't have to worry about her or the dangers that come with the territory anymore. Now, your days are filled with cartoons and picture books and colorful bandaids. No more midnight missions, no more bloodies bandages. "A safer one."

"Calm and safe, sure", you mumble absently. "But I'm not so sure about...better."

Natasha turns to look at you, frowning slightly. What you said is odd enough, but the way you said it really threw her off. She scoots closer, her voice lowered.

"What are you talking about?"

You open your mouth to answer, but before you can say anything, Nina calls out to you. She's running, one hand clutching her teddybear. "I'm thirsty, mommy."

"Come here, honey." You grab a juice box from your backpack and hand it to her. She struggles with the straw for a moment, then she manages to poke it through the hole. The straw is now covered in grains of sand, making you grimace — but, of course, your daughter doesn't care about that.

She empties the juice box in record time, then she tosses it into the trash can. Off she goes again, her eyes locking onto the pony spring-rider. Natasha watches her with increasing fondness, silently wondering whether, in some other, faraway universe, this is what her life looks like.

"Always on the go", you say quietly, watching her. "So full of energy, I swear."

"I guess that's why I like her so much", Natasha says, glancing at you. You smile.

"She reminds you of yourself, huh?"

Natasha laughs under her breath, shrugging. "Maybe. Though I hope not too much."

You look down at your lap, at your hands that are resting there, and subtly toy with the ring on your finger. Your gaze shifts back to Natasha, a small, wistful smile on your face.

"I disagree. I wouldn't mind if she was a bit...wilder." You bite your lip, then add: "Like you. I mean, you were the one always pushing me out of my comfort zone. It was part of the deal: I tried to rein you in — unsuccessfully —, and you kept pushing."

Natasha smiles, her hand briefly reaching out to squeeze yours. You exhale softly at the simple touch — you haven't felt her skin against yours in years, but it's still the same.

"Did I ever do it right?", she ponders. "Push you the way you needed?"

"Maybe not always", you admit. "But you made me feel alive. Even when it was complicated."

. . .

"For you!", Nina says, handing a flower — a chrysanthemum — to Natasha. The redhead smiles, taking the small plant and twirling it between her fingers.

"A flower? For me? I'm honored!" Natasha turns to look at you, a teasing look on her face. "See? She already likes me better than most people."

You chuckle, lifting Nina into your arms. "I wouldn't be so sure", you say, smiling back just as teasingly. "She gave the mailman a flower last week, too."

"Oh really? And here I thought I was special."

You hum, adjusting your hold on your daughter. "You are special", you say, this time completely sincerely. You can't remember the last time Ethan spent the whole day with you like this — simply existing, doing things that aren't work-related, making sure Nina has fun. This was Natasha's idea, too — not yours. For the first time in a while, you don't feel isolated.

You clear your throat, giving a quick nod. "Well, uhm...thank you. For this. She really had fun."

Natasha hesitates, her gaze flickering from the flower to your face. "I didn't just come for her", she eventually speaks, the words hanging in the air as you exchange a look. You swallow, managing a faint smile.

"Let's not get too sentimental", you say, trying to sound lighthearted. You nudge Nina to distract yourself. "Say bye, honey."

Nina waves at Natasha. A few hours of playing outside in the fresh air have turned her cheeks rosy. "Bye, Natasha!"

"Bye, Tiny."

Another quick glance at each other, then you part ways. Natasha goes in one direction, you go in the other. Years linger between you, years that were spent together and that keep you close. There's a pull that's close to magnetic, and you're not sure how you managed to resist it for such a long time.

Both of you wonder whether you were ever able to truly leave your past behind — or if, somehow, you're still tangled in it, just waiting for the right moment to unravel.

✷ ✷ ✷ ✷ ✷ ✷ ✷ ✷ ✷ ✷ ✷ ✷

🌙 tagged (as per request): @fxckmiup

[delulumel]

Still yours

Pairing: exbf!bangchan x f!reader

Genre: ex’s to lovers, a little bit of angst, fluff at the end, possesive!chan

Synopsis: they say time heals wounds but two years later, he still looks at you like you are his. The problem is…you never stopped being his.

Word count: 3.0k

Warnings: cursing

Note: I’ve read so many stories here so I thought I might give this a try. I’m kinda nervous but hope you like it!

Your breakup with Chan wasn’t dramatic. No screaming, no breaking things—just the quiet realisation that you two won’t work out. The distance between you has stretched too far, the missed calls and unanswered messages for days.

But the last thing you didn’t expect from him was forgetting your birthday.

He didn’t forgot—no, he called you saying he will be working late and not to wait for him. While you stand there wearing your cute dress expecting him to surprise you.

When he showed at your shared apartment he knew immediately. He remembered it last minute and ran to you, but it was already late. The colour of his face drained when he saw the bag full of your belongings.

“We can’t do this anymore.” you said, your voice steadier than you felt.

Chris didn’t argue—he couldn’t, it was his fault. He just stood there and accepted it.

You thought that would be the end of it.

But you were wrong.

You tried to move on

You deleted his number, threw away things that reminded you of him, you started to date other people—most of them were horrible.

Chan though didn’t move on.

He didn’t blow up your phone or something. Instead, he lingered.

“@gnabnahc liked your post” at 2 AM

He commented at old posts “I remember that day.”

And then your friends brought him up.

“Chan asked about you yesterday.” your friend mentioned.

You stiffened “what did he say?”

“He just wanted to know if you are seeing anyone.”

“Why?”

“You know how he is. He doesn’t like sharing you.”

You rolled your eyes. “he didn’t seem to mind sharing his time with everyone but me when we were together.”

Later that night you had a dream about him. Of course he would creep back into your mind after some while.

You shouldn’t have gone to the party.

But your friends begged you just so you can clear your mind.

The moment you walked in, he was there.

Leaning against the balcony railing, drink in hand, laughing at something Hyunjin said to him. His hair was a little longer, his black button-up rolled up to his elbows— he looked really good.

You turned to leave.

“Y/n” a familiar voice called you.

When you turned back Chan was already walking to you, his gaze dark.

“You are here.” He said in a deep voice.

“Yeah, suprise.” you said while forcing a smile.

His eyes devouring your figure like he wanted to memorize the image. “You look good.”

“Thanks.” you took a step back “You look good too.”

His jaw clenched “You’ve been avoiding me.”

“No” You lied “Just busy.”

“Bullshit” He stepped closer “You blocked my number.”

“Well that’s how breakup works Chan.”

Then—thank god—Hyunjin slided an arm around his shoulders, grinning “Stop scaring the guests man.”

He didn’t smile. He continued to stare at you.

You on the other hand tried to escape to the kitchen.

He followed you.

Of course he did.

The second you stepped inside, you whirled around “What the hell Chan?”

He pinned you against the kitchen counter, his body way to close, the cologne he always wore filling your lungs. “You blocked me” he repeated.

“I had to” Your body trying to escape but the marble counter was stopping you. “You kept—”

“Kept what? Caring?” His warm breath warming your face. “You think I could just stop?”

“You didn’t care enough when you needed to.” you shot back.

Chan let out a harsh laugh. “That’s what you think? That I didn’t care? I cared too fucking much. That’s why I worked so hard trying to built something—”

“For who?” You interrupted. “Because it sure hell wasn’t for us”

The words hung between you. Chan’s expression twisted, something vulnerable flashing across his face.

“You’re right, I fucked up.” His hand hovered near your face before it dropped to his side. “But don’t stand here telling me you didn’t know what you got yourself into. You knew who I was—what my life was like.”

“I knew the man who promised me I’d always come first.” Your voice breaking “Not the man who ignored me for weeks.”

Chan’s composure cracked. “I was trying to built a future for us!”

“Without me in it!” Tears blurred your vision. “You made all the plans, all the decisions but you never asked what I wanted!”

“I just wanted you.” You whispered. “Not your success. Not your sacrifices. Just you.”

Chan’s breath hitched. For a long moment he just stared at you, his eyes tracing every feature like he was memorising you. Finally he brought his hand up to cradle your cheek.

“Well I’m here now” he murmured, thumb brushing away a tear that had slipped from your eyes. “All of me. Let me make it up to you.”

You searched his face—the sincerity in his eyes, the tension in his shoulders, the way his fingers trembled slightly against your skin. Two years of anger and loneliness warred with the part of you that never stopped loving him.

Chan held perfectly still, letting you look your fill, letting you decide. The music from inside faded into background noise.

When you finally leaned in, his sharp intake of breath was the last thing you heard before his lips met yours.

A/N: omg I’m sweating, this is not for the easy lol. If you see any mistakes please let me know!❤️

[cathnospam]

“One kiss won’t hurt our friendship, right Katsuki?”

You ask him that at least once a week, for the past 4 months. At this point he’s not sure if it’s a joke anymore.

“Shut up and focus!”

It all started at your graduation party, everybody was having fun and kissing each other;

Mina with Kiri

Ochaco with Deku

Jirou with Denki

Even Sero managed to find somebody to make out with in a corner. It left you and Bakugo the only ones out of your friend group kissless during all of that you both just shared glances at them and each other before heading back up to your dorms for the evening, he didn’t care much to continue the celebration and you were just feeling a little awkward seeing everybody paired up.

Later that night Bakugo came to your door to grab an aspirin from you after 1 two many drinks, “Stupid ass music is still playing I’m about to blow the fucking speaker up.”

“Here. Also, eat. You haven’t eaten since this morning so your blood sugar is probably low too.”

He glared at you with an annoyed look of confusion, “Don’t observe me.”

He says as he takes the other half of your sandwhich, eventually he just stayed in your room, making himself comfortable splayed out on your bed as you were finishing packing to leave on Monday back to your parents, and that’s when a night of comfortable silence between you both turned into you making a joke about everybody hooking up in your class except you both.

“Yeah, even Robot legs got some pussy tonight i think.”

Which led you to making a joke about you stealing a kiss from each other, I mean you figured why not, you’re hot, he might have a mean mouth, but your blonde friend was hot too, it wouldn’t mean anything, but Bakugo immediately rolled his eyes and scoffed at you. It wasn’t mean either it was more of a, “Yeah right as if.” kind of thing.

It wasn’t a direct no though.

Since then you’ve had a continuous back and fourth of asking for a kiss, which again he never ends up saying no like any of the continuous fan girls he got during 2nd year.

Once the new semester of Uni started it became a routine and honestly you never thought you’d actually wear him down.

“It wouldn’t hurt our friendship y’know…it’d be something we do once and never speak about again.”

“You’re insufferable.”

“No I’m a good kisser.”

“Yeah right.”

“Yeah too, but you wouldn’t know because you won’t just come here and let me take your kiss virginity.”

You probably took it a little too far with that, because you’ve been friends with Bakugo long enough to know he is a drama. Queen.

“Who the hell said i never kissed anybody before?! I probably have!” His voice cracked, already a sign that he was lying. He definitely never kissed anybody. You knew, he probably knew you knew, but he refused to give you the satisfaction even IF his face became flushed.

He got up from his desk to sit in front of you on the bed, uncharacteristically so he cupped your cheeks, your phone long forgotten between your legs having to be forced to look into his irritated face.

You never noticed how sharp and soft some features of his face were.

And how clear his skin was.

And how pretty his eyes were even if they’re fiery and mad, “Close your damn eyes.”

“I’m not closing shit YOU close your eyes.”

You matched his energy by cupping his cheeks, they were nearly burning to your warm touch, thumb caressing his smooth skin. The tension was so thick between you both, you swore you could hear both your heart beats quickening. His lips were grazing yours as you pulled him closer, your stomach was actually doing backflips seeing as Bakugo had the choice to push you off, curse you out and never talk to you again, but

He didn’t and you didn’t stop either until you pressed your mouth against his. You could taste the mint gum he had in his mouth when you started to move yours, Bakugo’s sweaty hands took grip of your waist, partially holding onto you and also wiping it off on your shirt.

You were surprised when he still didn’t pull away, for an inexperienced kisser he got the hang of the way your tongue was dancing to be let inside, which he finally gave you access, but completely took charge and slid his tongue into your mouth instead.

What turned into an awkward still moment of passion transitioned into a wet, sloppy make out session which him getting lost from what he’d experienced as his first moment of pleasure ever. His hands pushed you on your back firm on top of his pillows, but not disconnecting from your mewls against him.

He tasted sweet and savory, his lips were average sized and hot, but managed to consume you. This was more than a kiss this was damn near foreplay.

Both of your bodies felt so connected though. It felt right, something so foreign felt…comforting. It suckling and moaning noises until the harsh knock on Bakugo’s door broke you both out of your cloud 9.

“Shit—Who is it?” He barked at the door, hovering over your panting body, his chain dangling over your face seeing his sharp jawline clench out of irritation,

“Hey man, we are heading to get some food y’wanna come?” It was Denki and Kiri oh so unknown to the view right behind his door, that if they wanted to barge in because the door was unlocked could see their hot headed friend on top of his own friend and in between her legs.

“No I’m fine. Leave me alone.”

“Wait I’m hungry—-“

“Shut.Up.” He covered your mouth, almost growling at you for speaking, the footsteps eventually fade off and he sits back up. Looking away.

“Well I’ll be damned you are a good kisser.”

“Shut— I know I am.”

“Well. I figured, because I sure as shit didn’t know what I was doing.”

He snapped his head at you, realizing you were lying about being an experienced kisser. He didn’t know whether to feel prideful or mad, “You—“

“Well you lied too. I know you never kissed anybody. Thanks for letting me take your lip virginity though.” You giggle wiping the lips gloss you left on the corner of his lip, you weren’t sure because he had some black joggers, but you tried to not mention the somewhat obvious growing erection from between his legs that made him more embarrassed.

“If you tell anybody I’ll—“

“You’ll what…kiss me again?”

[yoiisa]

hello! I just read your pining fics ab windbreaker boys!! can we also have that with sakura, suo, kiryu, sugishita and kaji if that’s okay? but with a crush that is very popular that even small little thing they do get fawned over? like they could be walking and people would say: “theyre so pretty!” “how cute” “I can walk them in any aisle!” cue the boys getting jealous + points if reader knows their crush on them yet rejects their advances every time in a playful way? Like wb boys would confess their feelings for the Hundred time and reader only say: ”awh how sweet!”

eeeee! ofc ofc! these ones might a lil short for each though since i'm doing multiple characters! also this prompt totally reminded me of Aoi and Akane from TBHK iykyk (>ᴗ•) !

➜ sakura haruka is already incredibly romantically dense, so i feel like having a crush on someone who's constantly being showered with flirtations and romantic advances just makes it worse ➜ i can imagine him being like really protective over you though in an overt way ➜ like he will actively tell people off/to leave you alone when their flirtations get to be a bit too much ➜ in my mind, the reason why the two of you haven't started dating is because sakura still has a lot of issues socially that he needs to work towards fixing before he can take on the responsibility of the relationship ➜ but you've promised to wait for him, and that's really all he could ever ask for, so cue a romantic limbo for the ages!

Saturday mornings always meant the market was a little busy, but you didn't mind it one bit. The hustle and bustle made you feel a lot more energized. However, there was one thing that was thing that was draining your spirit, and that was this middle school kid following you around and continuously pestering you for your number. You'd told him off multiple times, and he seemed to take the hint, but nope. You'd turn the corner and he'd be right there, with another cocky grin and a can do attitude that made you want to put your head in a wall. "Please! Just one shot!" the boy says desperately. "Here, where's your phone? I pull my number in-" "I told you no!" you say adamantly, "Now please leave me alone! How many more times do I have to say it?" "Please-" the boy reaches for your arm and his hand wraps around your wrist, but just as it does, a chill runs up that boys spine. Sakura appears, and looks ready to throw the boy into the nearest vendor's stall. His two-toned eyes are all fury and he growls, "She said no. Now beat it." The middle schooler rambles out an apology before turning on his heels and promptly diving back into the crowd, desperate to avoid Sakura's wrath. Sakura turns to you and gives you an unimpressed look. You meet it with a wide smile and say, "Thanks Haru!" Sakura's face burns and he shakes his head as if to try and dissipate the heat. He grabs the same wrist the guy had, but infinitely more gently. His thumb smooths over the skin and he gently leads you throughout the rest of the shopping trip, making sure to keep watch for any more creeps lingering about.

➜ suo hayato's honestly the most mature of the bunch, so i feel like you getting showered with attention wouldn't bother him that much ➜ at least that's what he'd like you to think ➜ honestly, i feel like suo would be a weird shield from all the comments directed at you. he would always hang out near you and try to distract you from the hoard of attention coming your way ➜ god forbid you pay attention to anyone other than him. he wants to be the apple of your eye, and he knows exactly how to do it ➜ if a guy is particularly persistent, suo will promptly take him to the side and as passive aggressively as he can ward that other person off ➜ see, he likes to pretend that he's all mature and stuff, and he definitely is in the show, but at the end of the day, he is a high school boy. he's got that immaturity in him too ➜ even if you lowkey eat it up . . .

"Suo?" you ask as he returns to your side. You'd been standing on a bridge and tossing some bread down to the fish in the water below when he walked up towards you. "What're you doing here? "I was just walking by and saw you, so I wanted to come over and say hi," he says, a soft smile gracing his features. "But you went to the bakery . . .?" you ask, but then Suo raises his hand and gently pats your head. In doing this, he also directs your gaze downwards by gently pushing on your head. Your eyes land on his hand, where he's holding a small bag with the bakery's logo on it. A baguette sticks out of the bag, and you can see the top of what looks like . . . strawberry cake?! "I wanted to feed the fish with you," he explains, " and they were having a sale on cake. Two slices for the price of one!You like strawberries, right? I got chocolate for myself." "Ahh!" You squeal and hug him, your eyes squeezing shut. He sets the cake down and hugs you back, his hands going to your waist "You're the best Suo, thank you so much!" He looks up just in time to see the poor soul wandering out of the bakery and sending him a withering look. He's holding his own bag, because you see, that kid initially wanted to pull what Suo's doing right now. The two of them had been in a race at the bakery, anxious to see who'd get checked out first and make it to you. By some stroke of luck, the other guy's cash register crashed, and Suo was first to leave. He'd made sure to flash the guy a . . . daring smile at the guy as he left, an invitation of sorts. Just try it, Suo said with his eyes. I dare you. But you don't need to know all that. Not while you're enjoying your cake!

➜ kiryu mitsuki has a bit of a playful personality, so i feel like he'd enjoy you teasing him back a little the most out of all the boys ➜ after all, he's canonically known as a ladies man, so you can't let yourself get drawn by some potential fuckboy! ➜ you've known kiryu since you were little, and occasionally would bring him some food for lunch. the first time it was a little scary since you were going into a place that had no girls, but everyone was super nice to you, so you got used to it by your third time going ➜ however kiryu knew a lot of the niceness was just because of how cute you are, and honestly you do too ➜ but it makes you happy seeing kiryu get riled up a little bit from all the attention you're receiving, especially since he's normally even keeled

"Ah! Y/N! Hey!" someone calls from behind you. Anzai and a few of his friends are walking with him. Anzai is waving at you and you slow to a stop in front of the classroom door. "Hi Anzai," you say sweetly, and you wave at his friends as they catch up to you. "Hi guys." "Wow! Is that another bento for Kiryu?" one of them asks, eyeing the small box in your hands. You nod. "It's just some sushi I got from a convenience store. I was super busy yesterday, I'm so sleepy~ I couldn't be bothered to cook anything at all!" "Wow Y/N, you're so hard working!" Anzai marvels, opening the door. You step inside, and all the attention falls on you. "You were so exhausted, but you still look so put together," his friends point out. "You're so cute!" "Thank you!" you say cheerily, running your hands through your hair. It falls perfectly back into place, courtesy of the amount of product you'd put in it to keep it healthy and strong. You shrug and sigh, "I try." "It's really paying off!" Anzai says with a bright smile. "Enough!" Kiryu calls from the other side of the class. Tsuguera and Nirei giggle at him, Sakura rolls his eyes. Suo just smiles at the pink-haired boy's attitude. "Y/N's here for me not you!" "A little possessive there, no?" Suo asks. Kiryu pouts and buries his face in his arms as he puts his head on his desk. "I'm hungryyyyy~" "Yeah, yeah, I'm coming," you laugh. You wave Anzai and his friends bye before walking over to Kiryu and his friends. You set the bento down in front of him, and talk with his friends. Your smile grows a little as Kiryu links his pinky with yours.

➜ i think sugishita kyotaro is a little like sakura, but like, silent ➜ whereas sakura's more likely to verbally call the person out, sugishita will just loom ominously near you, and chase away anyone who wants to make a pass at you ➜ he's so doberman coded, it's honestly hilarious ➜ i think the one person he can stand that kinda behavior from though would be umemiya. he worships that man, so he'd just bite his tongue, and let umemiya just say whatever. ➜ he still gets mad though, so if he's a little more touchy later on, well, how can you blame him? ➜ after all, blushing, jealous sugishita is the cutest thing in the world!

You're sitting on the roof with Tsubaki, Umemiya, and Sugishita for a tiny tea party. Tsubaki and you organized it, and just brought your respective . . . people with you. "Hey, Y/N," Umemiya starts after eating a macaron, "did you do something different with your makeup?" "Yeah, I was gonna say something," Tsubaki says, pouring more tea in your cup. "I just tried a different blush," you explain. You touch your cheek, and quietly ask, "Does it look bad?" "No, no, no!" Umemiya hurriedly says, holding his hands up in defense. "It looks cute! It compliments you really well! Matches your eyes and stuff?" Sugishita sits up a little straighter at Umemiya's compliments and you laugh softly at his rigid posture. You look at Umemiya and ask, "Have you been getting into makeup lately, Umemiya?" The white-haired boy shakes his head and says, "Nah, I've just been spending too much time with this one." He rests his hand on Tsubaki's shoulder and smiles. "But seriously, you look gorgeous." "Thank you!" you say taking a sip of your tea. You look over and Sugishita out of the corner of your eye, and you freeze momentarily at the look on his face. His eyes are lidded and his face is flushed slightly. He nods and says, "He's right." It takes everything in Tsubaki and Umemiya not to combust right then and there. They feel like crying, as if they're proud parents. As the tea party continues, you and Sugishita link fingers under the table, and he scoots ever so slightly closer to you. Umemiya gives him a knowing look and smile, and Sugishita does everything he can to avoid his gaze for the rest of the party.

➜ think kaji ren's solution to all of this is to just put his headphones on you instead ➜ because in his mind, if you can't hear it, it never happens! but like . . . that's not true ➜ you refuse to keep his headphones on. first of all the two of you have different music tastes, and second of all, you like making him upset ➜ like everyone around him says, he's a cat! to a certain degree, messing with him is endearing ➜ so you don't actively encourage the flirtations you get, but you will lean into them just a little bit to get under his skin ➜ plus he's hot when he's protective

"Where are my headphones?" is the first thing he says to you when he sees you. "I gave them to Hiragi," you say, blinking at him innocently. "Why?"" A vein pops in his forehead and he snaps, "Why did you take them off." "My ears felt like they were bleeding," you whine. "You set the volume up so high!" "You could've lowered it!" "It's too much work!" "Y/N!" "Ren!" "What is wrong with you?!" "Why do you caaarreee-uh!" you protest cutely. Kaji stares down at you, his cheeks turning red. He stutters something incoherent, his voice raspy with frustration. You can't help but smirk as you stare up at him, knowing that now you've got him exactly where you need him to be. You cup his face in your hands and pull him closer to you. He freezes and his eyes go wide as you brush your cheeks with his thumb. "I'm playing," you giggle. "I know why, but seriously Ren, you don't need to worry. No one else is this fun to annoy." Kaji can't decide where or not her wants to kiss or kill you. His brain short circuits and he settles for something in between. His forehead falls against yours and he grumbles. "You're so stupid," he grumbles, a pout forming on his lips. "I know," you smile.

[possesseddesiress]

The Great Shift: Streaming

CONTENT WARNING: This story includes themes of transformation and body control with a suggestive approach. If this type of narrative is not to your liking or you do not meet the recommended age, we suggest you do not continue. All images used (if any) belong to their respective owners. I claim no authorship over them and they are only used for illustrative purposes.

If you decide to go ahead, welcome to Possessed Desires, where mind and body are never completely under your control.

The Great Shift: Streaming

My name is Phil, I just got into college and I feel pretty lost about my life. I got into a career that I don't even like (but my parents said that money and opportunities matter more), I don't have many friends, much less a partner.

The few friends I have say it's weird that I'm so unsuccessful in love, I'm not bad looking, though maybe... yeah too skinny.

I don't have a hint of muscle, I'm small and scrawny. Also very shy, I do my best with regards to relating to others, but it's like I fail epically every time I try.

It was like my life was destined for unhappiness... and I was settling for that.

That afternoon was pretty quiet, I had a few chores (that I didn't understand), just me in my room at school because my roomie was out, and all my friends were busy. A pathetic afternoon, really.

I lay back on my bed, let out a sigh, pulling out my phone. Something I was quite a fan of, was video games, I liked the mechanics, the designs, and partly because I could pretend to be someone else: to know other worlds, other stories, although no doubt, it was also boring to play without other people.

So in part I also liked to watch some video game streamers. How they narrated the games, their charisma or their jokes, many times I just watched them while I was eating or doing something else.

There was one in particular, his name was Corey. Corey or better known as Noobro, was quite famous on Twitch, and had a certain charisma that I found quite attractive.

I looked up his profile, noticing that he was live.

- How are you today? - he said with a smile, he was playing something like Fornite. He said a couple of things but I didn't even pay attention thanks to a strange buzzing sound that started to play quite loudly. I couldn't quite identify the source, it almost seemed to be coming from my own brain.

I let go of the phone, clenching my head. I heard Corey moaning in the same way on the live feed, I swear even the lights flickered as if they were going to explode. And all at once, everything went black.

A second or two later, I felt some sort of tug, and I saw light again. I looked around confused, besides having a bad headache, I couldn't make out the noises very well either, they were like low murmurs of what seemed to be... music?

I wasn't listening to music before this, what the heck? I opened my eyes without being able to focus at all. Until I ended up glimpsing a computer in front of me.

A computer?

I blinked several times thinking that maybe it was a hallucination, but the computer with a loading screen was still in front of me every time I closed and opened my eyes. It seemed to be from a... game.

I noticed that he was also wearing headphones. I moved my face closer to the screen to notice that there was a camera above, and on the screen. A series of messages, and a thumbnail of someone's camera, seemed strange to me until I saw that it responded to my movements.

Wait... that wasn't someone's camera. That was my camera. But... Where am I?

I looked down at my hands, noticing thick fingers where small ones used to be, followed by a huge hand. I swallowed nervously, but mostly confused. I looked around, it was then that I noticed that the room looked strangely familiar.

I refocused my gaze on the screen, reading the comments, my heart pounding as I read some of them:

《 Hey, noob 》 《 What will you play today, noob? 》

I picked up a phone that was on the table, opened the camera and almost fainted at the sight of my reflection.

The man I watched almost day and night for his videos and live feeds was now in front of me... copying every move I made.

For a moment surprise was the only thing inside me, until I smelled his scent.

I noticed my new stench... strong, masculine, quite stinky, I almost let out a gasp. I wanted more, that was for sure, I tried to pull down a little more the sleeve of the t-shirt that was a little tight to expose my hairy armpits, but because of my new strength, I ended up tearing it.

Out of concern, I ended up cracking a smile, raised my arm and placed it behind the backrest, flexing it and enjoying the sensation; as my bicep swelled up and showed off my new huge muscles.

I almost didn't remember that Corey was originally on a live feed, until I heard the messages start coming out one after another.

Some confused, talking about how they woke up in other bodies and didn't know who they were now, but others were more... interesting.

《You're not him, are you? 》《 I was watching this video in my previous body, I ended up in someone else's who was also watching it, Noob, is it still you? 》

My shyness was about to cut off the transmission, but I felt a strange tingling, I had never felt it before, it was... courage?

- Nah, I'm not him - I said with unfamiliar confidence. It was strange for me to act like this but at the same time it felt so right, like something was finally finding its place in me.

《 And who are you? 》 《 How does it feel to be inside him? 》

- Well, I won't say who I was before. That's not important - I smiled, flexing my arms - It feels amazing, I look good, don't I?

I flexed my arms more and more towards the camera again, I also grabbed my pecs to start massaging them.

《 Let us see more then 》

- You sure are dirty, aren't you? - I teased, although I wasn't at all uncomfortable with what they were asking - I guess they're my fans now, so I must please you.

I spread my legs, feeling his thick build, wide and fat... I moved a little closer to the screen, starting to make slight provocative gestures: sticking out my tongue, biting my lip.

I looked like a fool at first though.... I felt good, and watching the messages explode with excitement did nothing but cheer me up more.

I continued to smell my new stinky, hairy armpits.

- You guys would love to be smelling this, seriously - I pressed my nose against my skin, ecstatic. Continuing that exploration for what seemed like hours, several of them even sent me some pretty juicy tips for getting.... more creative.

That day was somewhat chaotic in the streets, there was panic and no one knew what to do. It took the world at least a week to get used to the “Big Shift”, or at least that's what the scientists called it.

They explained that 80% of the world's population changed bodies without any control or pattern. Some changed between families, others with people from other countries, between genders... it was definitely chaos. Although it is quite lucky if we are honest, the exploration in private was undoubtedly... wonderful.

However, I did have a hard time adjusting to my new body, specifically because of the... work part.

Apparently, Corey's job wasn't just being a streamer, he was also an accountant. The career that I was about to study and that I didn't understand at all. So clearly, I ended up losing the job in a few weeks.

They gave me compensation for the whole body swap thing and at least to keep me afloat for about two months. I felt like it was all coming down but then I thought of something. Corey was famous on Twitch and other social media because he was charismatic, right?

Plus... He had a really good body.

Why wasn't I capitalizing on that?

The first bold move I took on his body was to wax my entire chest, I liked how he looked with hair, I must admit. Although seeing him hairless made it more... eye-catching. Two fat bulges that would catch anyone's attention.

I started uploading more racy stuff, pictures working out, in the gym, sweaty, with clothes that barely covered.

It was a risky move, but it sure paid off, in no time, I also opened a slightly more... explicit account, and suddenly I didn't have to worry about money anymore. I could have this glorious body in all its glory, play video games most of the day, make enough money to support myself and even have more for my personal tastes. I even bought a new car!

My life as Corey was going great, I finally had confidence with other guys (and none of them would miss the opportunity to get all body worshipping), I had money, I was doing what I loved. I finally had a purpose in life.

I'm sure you wonder what happened to the original Corey, don't you? Well, he ended up in my body.

Some people suffered a "direct" exchange, which was that two consciousnesses moved between their bodies, closing only between them.

I talked to him for a while, I thought he would be upset or going crazy, but no, he was actually happy to relive his youth again, study again the career he liked (and take advantage of his knowledge), even try to do streaming again. I think he's doing well even though he's more successful as an influencer or something.

I just know that I improve my appearance quite a bit.

And I know he also watches a lot of my new content (I checked the subscriber list so I know he's definitely there), I guess he likes to see his body still. Maybe he even fondles himself watching my videos.

Anyway, I feel pretty good about being Corey now, the big "Noobro", and not just "big" in video games, if you know what I'm talking about.

- Hey guys, welcome to a new video. I just got back from the gym all sweaty - I smiled before dipping my nose into my armpit, leaving it on display for the camera's delight - How about we play something new today?

----

I hope you enjoyed this story as much as I enjoyed writing it. If you liked it, don't forget to follow it and share it so more people can discover it.

I'm always open to suggestions and ideas, so if you have any fantasy or scenario in mind, let me know in the comments or in messages. See you in the next story... Who knows what body you will occupy this time?

---

[finally-im-home]

Akin and his Disorganized Attachment Style with Jin

(No spoilers from ep9)

If you don't know what a disorganized attachment style is, it is one of the four attachment styles (Secure, Anxious, Avoidant, and Disorganized), often stems from childhood experiences resulting in inconsistent and unpredictable behaviours in relationships.

People with this style of attachment often find it difficult to trust people, have mixed feelings, and have negative views of others and themselves. They seek closeness and then withdraw to avoid getting hurt.

Akin, the most huggable (or sexiest) man and the winner of so many Best Actor awards comes across as cold and detached at first. But then we see how caring and considerate he is of the people around him (arranges food for the whole crew, helps a newbie with his acting, and even deals kindly with his stalker). He is emotional (the hundred times he cried) and most importantly he is a perfectionist. Even though that helps him in his acting career, he tends to bring the same in his relationship with Jin which worsens their already existing issues. Perfectionists need a certain amount of control over whatever they do and when they cannot have that, they either procrastinate the task or abandon it completely.

Akin suggests breakups whenever he feels like he's at fault because he fails to control the situation.

-> He starts freezing Jin out when he doesn't win the Sexiest Man award and feels even worse about feeling the loss. The breakdown that day was not from jealousy. No- when he couldn't maintain the perfect Actor/Celebrity status he’s expected and worked to be, he broke down. To stop projecting that bitterness onto Jin he acts cold.

-> He wants to break up when Johnny happens and he believes he was at fault. He lost control and there's nothing he can do/be to Jin to make it any better or perfect as before. During ep7 when Jin confesses his love, Akin’s instant response is, “That's why want to break up with you “. Meaning- ‘I did something wrong, I can't be perfect for you so let's end this’.

But he doesn't bring breakup during the whole stalker headache. He knows he's not completely at fault (he says the same thing in ep8) and knows there’s something they could do to control the issue.

-> He wants to break up again (not spoiling for those who didn't watch ep9, but you're going to see a lot of Akin’s need for control there). He's losing control, he cannot ensure the perfect love life for Jin if things continue this way.

But what does Jin want?

Jin only wants Akin. He wants to be there, good or bad. He doesn't care for awards or titles. He’d praise his boyfriend openly, even when he's the winner, consequences and ego be damned, and wants to share every happiness with him.

-> He throws himself out of the car immediately when Akin storms out in distress in ep5. He doesn't hesitate a second to run behind his man, lets Akin cry and gather his thoughts by himself and then kisses him to apologize for not understanding him.

-> Even though he leaves Akin alone in the parking lot after the Johnny thing, he goes to watch Akin’s play, when he himself said he wouldn't chase Akin anymore. He's not ready to abandon their relationship and goes to investigate the truth of it. Again there's no hesitancy in Jin to apologize for leaving Akin alone and not be with him that day.

Now Jin is not perfect, none of us are, but he is perfect for Akin’s disorganized attachment style.

Often people with this type of attachment are the first to initiate breakup as a means to control the situation. But do they really want a breakup in the first place? No. Underneath all the pain, and fear of abandonment they need someone to fight for them and be with them even when they are not perfect.

(None of the GIFs and images are mine. All credit to the creators)

[unluckycricket]

“I had a friend once.”

Garnet froze at the unprompted statement. Slowly, he dipped the wire brush back into the scale oil, and when the dragon didn’t continue, he replied, “Oh?”

Drigheid huffed, smoke curling from his snout in a lazy arc. He drew his head back further so the boy had a better angle of his neck. The scales gleamed with the oil, polished and pretty, like rubies under a lapidarist’s hand.

The rust-colored remains of his recent shed littered the floor around them, though Drigheid took no heed. “A good woman, she was. Had a penchant for bear meat of all things.” A rumbly noise escaped his throat.

The smell of saffron, leathery and sweet, wafted as Garnet scraped the bristles down the dragon’s neck. It was loud against his ears, just shy of painful, and so different from the sound of Drigheid’s chuckle.

Dragons didn't laugh. That’s what everyone said. The townsfolk he bought his produce from during summer; the trappers who sold him meat in the winter. The travelers, the drunks, the peddlers. 

Dragons didn’t laugh, didn’t tease, didn’t tuck you against their side on those particularly cold nights, when the fire wavered for all it tried to burn; when the cavern walls trapped nothing but frost within their glittering gemstones.

No, dragons lusted for wealth. They burned down homes, and stole with greedy claws and sharper teeth. Dragons swallowed men whole.

Dragons didn’t care.

Garnet often wondered if he was foolish, for doubting the words of many. 

He paused, the screech of the wire brush falling silent as he smoothed his other hand over the oil-slick scales. They were bright as rubies in his eyes, yet others would say they were dark like blood.

He had known no other life than beside this creature. Pressed against hard yet warm bulk during the winter months. Helped when summer brought the languid sloth of overheat, with hunters who sought the dragon’s hoard and scales for profit. Garnet would bring him whatever prey he could find: rabbit, fish, deer. The dragon’s gratitude was always well earned and sincerely given, a delighted rumble deep in his chest.

Am I your friend as well? Garnet wanted to ask him now, but refrained. 

Instead he said, “Is that why you are so eager to hunt bear during the fall?”

Drigheid grunted an affirmative, and angled his head lower so the boy could reach the softer skin of his throat. The action was done without thought, his trust given so readily Garnet faltered.

Dragons didn't care. Dragons didn’t care.

“Better to find before the hibernation season. It feels wrong to hunt them when they’re at their most vulnerable. As for the warmer months…I hesitate to mess with cubs.” His tail flicked wryly as he added, “And the summer heat, of course. Fall seems to be the only time we have a chance, don’t you think?”

Dragons shouldn't have had honor either. And yet…

Drigheid must have noticed the boy’s body going rigid, because he pulled back. The brush still held aloft between them, dripping oil down to the stone floor. “Garnet?” he asked, lowering his snout to face the boy head on.

“Garnet? Are you well?”

The brush fell to the ground between them. The clatter echoed off the walls as Garnet stepped away. Afternoon light spilled through the cavern’s entrance, shimmering against crimson. Rubies. Blood.

“What happened to her?”

Drigheid’s lips peeled back at the edges, revealing jagged teeth. It looked like a snarl. It was a confused frown. “What?”

Garnet fidgeted with his tunic. He was dressed in well-worn clothes; shabby, and so unlike the opulence of the dragon’s other possessions. But he was valuable in other ways. He helped during the overheat of summer; fed him the rabbit and fish and deer. 

And here he was, assisting the dragon with his shed, polishing scales until they were as brilliant as everything else Drigheid owned.

Except Garnet himself.

He blew out a breath. “What happened to your friend?”

Drigheid’s slitted eyes blinked but didn’t close. Third eyelids. “Ah. She died.” He said it factually, and though his wings remained firmly tucked, the scales down his spine rippled; his tail giving a start at the admission.

Oh, Garnet thought. No one had ever mentioned dragons feeling sad.

He wiped the oil on his palms across fraying breeches, and quietly asked, “How did she die?”

Drigheid didn't respond at first, more teeth revealed as his frown deepened. “Have I truly not told you?”

“Told me...Told me what?”

The dragon sat on his haunches and drew down until his body was more level with the much smaller boy. A sharp claw hooked gently around Garnet’s abdomen, pulling him close until he leaned against warm scales.

Drigheid’s voice vibrated against his skin, and Garnet relaxed into him without thinking. “I apologize. My age deceives me and it seems I’ve faltered in the face of it. I’d meant to tell you when you were old enough to understand, yet that day seems to have long passed.” His head shook. “I’ve only myself to blame for letting the seasons slip by as such.”

Garnet frowned at his troubled tone. “Drigheid?” It was the first time he’d called the dragon by name since he’d learned what it meant to be in the company of such a fearsome creature.

Smoke plumed from Drigheid’s nostrils as he sighed. “Forgive me. That woman was your mother. She used to keep me company during the height of the summers, when I was naught to even move much less hunt.”

Garnet gasped, hand bracing against Drigheid’s shoulder. “What? My mother?”

“Yes. Like I have said: a good woman. You look much like her in the face. The same smile...though I have seen less of it as of late.” He dipped his head to bump lightly against the boy, and Garnet could feel his eyes begin to sting.

Dragons didn’t offer comfort…except this one did.

“And she…died?”

Drigheid’s wings twitched, and he didn’t answer at first. Garnet pressed deeper against his side. “She came to me one night, after I hadn't seen her in nigh on five years; fell in out of a thunderstorm, clinging to a little boy who cried at the first sight of me.” He huffed, just a little, and smoke drifted. “Henriette was ill and could go nowhere else she thought was safe. She was scared, as if something was after her. But she never divulged her story in full, no matter how much I asked.” There was regret in his voice at that. “She and the little boy stayed with me through a full turn of the seasons, and at the height of winter Henriette drew her last breath. I was left to care for the boy by myself, even though he still cried if I showed my teeth even a little too much.” 

His expression was troubled, caught somewhere between a smile and a frown. Garnet had no urge to cry while looking upon the dragon’s teeth in that moment, yet tears still fell from his cheeks. 

“Oh,” was all he could think to say.

It was silent as Garnet took in Drigheid’s words, the story he’d told.

They had all been wrong. Dragons did care.

“So, then,” Garnet began haltingly, “you don’t just keep me around because I'm useful?”

“What?” Drigheid pulled away, aghast. “Why ever would you think that?”

Garnet shook his head, hope pouring in like light through a gem facet. Brilliant and gleaming. Like rubies. “Am I your friend?” he asked, almost demanded.

Drigheid still seemed perturbed but answered sincerely, pressing his cheek against the boy's stomach, “Of course, Garnet. You are every bit as dear to me as your mother was.”

Garnet let out a watery laugh.

Oh, what a fool he had been. Listening to everyone else but his own heart. Garnet pressed a palm to his eyes, despite the strong smell of saffron, the residue of oil. It didn’t bother him. Not as he leaned all his weight into the dragon’s side.

The warmth was familiar and comforting. The warmth was home.

“You’re my friend as well” he said fiercely, clinging tight to Drigheid's neck. The dragon welcomed the embrace, a low rumble vibrating though the boy, filling him the same as the hope had.

Dragons did laugh. And they hugged too.

The human servant knew he should've been incinerated by his dragon master. He had outlived his usefulness, after all... it's a mystery as to why the dragon hasn't killed him already.

[cripplecharacters]

Thank you so much for this blog. Can I take a moment to ask the rest of your followers to please stop using it to ask for *permission* to write whatever they're trying to write? On every ask that starts with "can I write XYZ?", I just wanna grab the asker by the shoulders and ask back "what do you think is going to happen if you do?"

Since there's no ableism police going around inspecting amateur creative projects, this is really a poorly worded version of "is this bad/ableist/problematic/gonna get me cancelled/punished?", with an undercurrent of "am I bad? Am I a bad person? Please reassure me that I'm not a bad person", which is a hell of a lot to drop on a handful of strangers online who can only ever give you a bit of information and their own biased personal opinions.

I swear I'm not trying to be a jerk about this. It's good that so many people want to depict disability in fiction beyond flat stereotypes. But it's incredibly hard to create *anything* with this level of anxiety and craving for approval. It's sooo much better to be driven by playful curiosity. Learn to love research! Don't underestimate your capacity for critical thinking! Dare to form your own opinions! The worst that can (and will) happen is that you'll be wrong and make mistakes. Big deal.

I also invite everyone to get further along in the writing process before running to consult here. Writing is rewriting, and it's easier to rewrite what's already on the page than toy with hypothetical ideas forever. Tumblr jokes a lot about the mere existence of bad pieces of writing being "a hate crime", but let's get real. Your accidentally ableist first draft is not an act of violence, and treating it that way is not disability advocacy or activism or helpful to anyone.

Sorry if this ended up too long or verbose. What do you mods think? Agree/disagree?

I can't speak for the other mods but I mostly agree TBH.

There's much more to writing disabled characters than just getting a "stamp of approval" that what you're doing "is OK". And it's not that it's bad to consult others to make sure you're not being ableist (it isn't), but a good disabled character can't just be a character that's Not Offensive.

They should be well researched, they should be interesting, and they shouldn't just be there to be "good disabled rep". They should be a character, not a diversity quota to fill.

I've addressed the whole "no one is actually going to Cancel You if you write something ableist" in one of my older posts about writing characters with facial differences because it's true. One billion movies and series and comics come out every year and a ton of them are ableist, and I promise you no one is getting "cancelled" over having a villain with a scar.

I stopped answering those "is it ok if my villain is deformed and scarred?!??" asks because they don't really add anything, they're usually not looking to change anything or learn anything, they just want a Cripple's Stamp of Approval. And that's not going to result in a good character, ever, it's just like showing a thumbs up to a writer that it's OK for them to write this offensive thing. What's the point? If you want to write it so bad, just do it... There is no Council of Disfigured People that will cancel you and take your house. You don't need my permission to write a generic evil disfigured guy and I'm not going to grant it. If you don't want to actually learn or change anything, there's no point in asking.

As I said, that's my opinion and not necessarily representative of the other mods on the blog.

mod Sasza

As to my opinion I largely agree. You (the general you, not you specifically asker, which is what I will mean in this whole ask when I say 'you') can write whatever you want and no one will send you a certified letter by mail that says you are Cancelled or a Bad Person or whatever.

We just want people to do research and put thought behind what they're writing. To think about why things are considered ableist, by us or by anyone else. And we want people to make disabled characters be characters and not just a Trope.

We as a mod team, but also as just regular people, can't or control what anyone does or doesn't write/draw/do. No one can. If you want to write something we hate, then do it. We won't stop you. We can't. We just won't like it, but if you're that committed to writing what you're writing, you can live with that, or at least you should. Someone's specific piece of art/writing/etc won't change our minds on what we've previously stated. No, not even yours. But you can do it if you really want to because that's how being an individual person works.

mod sparrow

[zarnzarn]

Hob Gadling as a husband is vastly different than Hob Gadling as a boyfriend.

Dream had known this vaguely- held old memories of how things settle after marriage, how arguments become commonplace with contentment, how people grow out into the reassurance to become different people.

What he wasn't quite expecting was the certainty.

He had no idea how much Hob was holding back in their courtship- or how insecure he must have felt, perhaps, to be so reserved. Dream had done his best to assuage the other's idiocies as they came up- why there was surprise that he would never choose to deal with this and that latest sycopanth when he had been tipped off that his husband was waiting for him at home in new clothing, he still doesn't know- but there annoyingly still seemed to have been hidden trepidations that he couldn't root out.

But proposing marriage seemed to have thrown all of this out of the window. The hidden steel-backed spine that Hob has had to prop him up all these years shines through much more freely now, and Hob is less and less afraid to show it.

("If I'd known how much you'd change if I married you," He'd snarled during one of their worst fights. "I'd have thought better of it."

Hob had put his hands on his hips. "Oh, is that what we're doing now? Alright, then." He'd poked his right hand into Dream's chest roughly, then held it out, one eyebrow raised. "Take the ring off then. No, you want a fucking divorce, take the damn ring off yourself, Dreamlord. Go ahe-"

"That's what I thought," Hob had said with due smugness 48 hours later- as was his right- as he slipped coffee and held the newspaper up for both of them. Dream hummed, curled in his lap and idly tracing his fingers over the many bruises over his husband's neck, and privately congratulated himself for the stroke of luck he finally seemed to have found, winning over a man who both loved him and liked him.)

"If you can't handle even the land parcel you currently have without Dream having to intervene every decade," Hob snaps now, crossing his arms as he glares at the Weavers of the Sa-Inaa'l galaxy. "How do you even have the audacity to ask for more?"

They hiss at him, raising their mandibles in threat. Hob raises an eyebrow back.

"It is not enough for our Weavers," The Elder says, voice even. "We cannot sustain on what we have."

"Not enough for your Weavers, or not enough for your greed?" Hob shoots back. "I've heard that the Sa-Inaa'l is being patronized now by the Western Forces. Just because you're willing to whore out your ancient art for money-"

"We do business with the Dream King, peasant ape," One of them snarls, banging a fist on the table. "We do not bargain with the likes of you!"

"Mind your tongue," Dream says mildly. "He is my husband in my ways, his ways and yours. Also, he is older than most of you."

"He is not even of royal blood!" The Elder bursts out, the first show of emotion from them that Dream has seen from them since they were a juvenile. "Surely this is unbefitting of your station!"

"Oh, because you're so befitting of yours. How much have you lost in profit within one year again?"

"You are out of place!" One of the younger ones shouts. It is amusing as always when they look Dream's way after saying it, as if Dream is in any way capable of putting Hob back in any places whatsoever. Dream is lucky if he gets Hob to listen to him once a week. Dream has not won a single conversation about food since the rings slid onto their fingers. They are quite satisfied with this setup, overall. "You are nothing but filthy peasant scum."

"Filthy peasant scum who is right about his information," Hob snaps. "Don't think we don't know that you're trying to distract us from the topic. Also fuck you."

Dream stirs and stops admiring the pitiful expressions on the Weaver's faces- honestly the farmer's market suffer his husband more than they are, the dramatic things- to look over at his husband, frowning at the last bit. He cannot decide whether that was hurt or frustration. Better not to take the risk.

He stands. "As entertaining as this has been," He cuts into the shouting. "My husband is correct. You will not receive any more land than you have. Also- my consort is worth a hundred generations of your Elders. Do not try to ever say or imply otherwise, or I shall make you regret it."

They are all cowering in the corner when he is finished speaking. He dips his head in dismissal and they shakily bow and scatter out.

Hob huffs as he watches them go, scowling. Dream drifts over and presses a kiss to his cheek. "I hope you don't believe their words, lover."

"I stopped feeling insecure about this whole prince thing the fifth time you shoved me into a scratchy outfit, ducks," Hob replies. He softens as he turns to Dream, and kisses his cheek back. "Don't worry."

"I worry," Dream returns. "I love you."

Hob smiles. It is not as wide and awe-filled as it used to be, and Dream feels pleasure hum in his throat at the sight of it. "I know."

[bernardsbendystraws]

This is a genuine question since people keep trying to say I'm a pedophile or a groomer, I'm not trying to argue, I'm genuinely lost.

How is me commenting on a smut about Matt Sturniolo before I knew someone's age (and it wasn't labeled on their blog) pedophilic?

I can admit that I shouldn't have agreed with the person who said they wanted to finger Matt's butt in a group chat containing some minors, but that's still not grooming.

As for the second ss from that chat of me saying my fingers hurt from fingering Matt's butt, I followed that comment up directly with the fact that I had tried to crack my knuckles but I couldn't and my knuckles just hurt.

Again, I can see it being inappropriate and I've stopped saying those things in the group chat like that, but I don't see how it's pedophilic or considered grooming.

These were things said over a month ago and I wasn't the only 18+ blog who was simping over the pictures of the triplets with inappropriate comments. We all were since that's what we're used to on here and it was a group of over 50+ people at the time.

I never talked to minors on purpose, knowing their age. Comments towards the triplets have been said to them in comments and such but it's never about the minor themselves. Usually it's me leaving some sort of comment that's relating to the smut like 'omg wet' or something sexual along the lines of the plot from the fic. Also, a lot of blogs do not have their age displayed on their blog, so how am I supposed to know?

And I don't understand how some are saying I write smut for minors. I don't control who has Tumblr and goes onto the #sturniolo smut or whichever tag. It's unfair to hold me to a standard that so many others would also be in violation of.

Again, I'm not trying to argue. I'd like to have a genuine conversation about this. If anyone could explain without being rude, we could come to a conclusion. Again, those comments were all made over a month ago. I realized it could be taken as inappropriate so I've not said anything similar since.

And it's unfair to say I'm the one who's 'dragging things out.' Did I post the full three days? Yeah. And so were a lot of other people who said more rude things towards the group chat. I never called them any names or anything that wasn't true. I said they were mean because that's what the truth of the matter was. Never said anyone was a bitch or anything and plenty of people said that. Again, it's just an unfair standard that I'm not sure why I'm getting called out when there's plenty of other blogs who could be called out for the same.

[executivedysfunctions]

While this whole thing is so horribly fucked up in so many ways, I would like to add a little bit of insight from someone who works in human subject research that is often funded by NIH.

To start, according to NPR, the memo from the NIH director said "they would like us to have funding announcements within the next six months to get this moving". Funding announcements don't mean that research will start immediately. I have a study that took nearly 2 years between our funding approval and our approval from the IRB (institutional review board - the regulatory board that oversees every aspect of human research; these will be based out of the institution where the researchers work). Now, 2 years is not the norm, but it all really depends on the IRB and how long it takes them to approve things - researchers cannot do ANYTHING until the IRB says they're allowed to. And then once it's approved, there's no telling how long the study will take or how long they're going to be collecting data for. We likely won't know that for sure until it's been IRB approved, which, again, who knows how long that'll take

There are a lot of steps along the way with the opportunity to slow this shit down at the very least - things can be delayed simply because the reviewers are taking a long time, they can come back and be really picky with language, or if the proposal has things that go against the standards of that institution's IRB they can try to fight that or straight up deny certain parts. We can only hope that wherever this study ends up, there are people along the way that are willing to do what it takes to minimize damage.

The other thing with funding is that they have to find researchers to actually conduct the research, and there will be pushback from many researchers who aren't willing to put their name on research like this - there's already been an outcry in the research community; people are very worried about scientific integrity, ethics, and the harm that this could lead to politically, among other things.

Another thing that's almost certainly going to hinder this research is that they're going to struggle to find participants. Even if they're only conducting surveys or something simple like that, finding people who are willing to participate in research is hard enough, let alone finding people from a community that is very understandably wary of research about them right now. Research needs participants to be able to provide insight on anything whatsoever; no participants = no data, no data = no results

And then the last line of defense is going to be the peer review process. If they actually get enough data to publish any findings, they will have to go through so many more people before there's even a possibility of getting those findings in a scientific journal. Now, might the results just get disseminated to the public through the White House in another ignorant-ass memo? Yeah, I guess, but it's not going to have any kind of scientific credibility if it doesn't get published in an actual journal. I know that doesn't mean much for this administration because they don't listen to science anyways, but it does matter in the long run. Think about the infamous vaccines=autism study - it's been discredited a million times over again in the scientific community, but it did get published back then, so people can still access it and try to use it as proof ("see it's scientific, it's an actual published article, it's legit!" while ignoring the mountain of more recent studies saying what a quack that guy was.) So if this new study doesn't make it to a credible journal, it will be much less effective as a long term tool of propaganda.

TDLR; this is definitely concerning and has the potential to have very bad repercussions, but it is highly unlikely that the study will even start collecting data by the 6 month mark, let alone publish anything by then that would lead to those repercussions. There are so many steps of review required throughout the process of conducting human research and so many opportunities for different individuals to drastically slow things down or hinder this study from running smoothly, let alone get published in a reputable scientific journal. This is scary, but I highly doubt we're going to hear much about this study for a while

>censors all existing data on trans healthcare

>orders a study

I'm sure this will be completely unbiased

[violetscar656]

"Knowing them" - Aftermath Part 4

Summary: Y/N is a member of the inner circle, sister to Rhysand and Cassian, best friend of Azriel?

Warnings: Blood?, slight graphic,

Author’s note: Finally the part 4 is here, and it’s kinda a multi- POV, only small sections though 90% is in Y/N POV I hope you guys enjoy this, PLEASE read other parts before this one. Comments are open to all suggestions. ENJOY

You were walking by the Sidra, needing to walk in city for awhile to see the lives outside and the starry night sky. Sound of sudden laughter and “Yes, yes I will” reached you; you turned, looking at the couple who just got engaged, you smiled and walked away

--

 “I saw a couple getting engaged by the sidra today” You say to Cassian, sitting in the living room in the House of Wind

Cassian looks at you, eyebrows raised, you look at your brother studying him

“Don’t” Cassian said with a side smile, “My story will continue when it needs to”

You huff, “How can it continue when you're sitting here not acting on it?”

“Sweets, you are good at advising,” he pauses, giving you a knowing look “Buut you are bad at following your own advice” You narrow your eyes

It was true, the complicated mess that was Cassian and Nesta was well parallel to your mess, you and Azriel. Az did call you his best friend, and the next day he left for his spymaster duties. That prick you thought

Cassian grins at your loss for words, “So when do we leave?” You were happy for the subject change

You glance at the clock, knowing later in the night, Azriel will come back “I think by tomorrow, or the day after”

--

You were standing at the landing waiting. You tried to sleep, but sleep didn’t come to you; there were too many things going on in your mind

The flap of wings sound reached you, then shadows danced over, there was nothing in this realm that could have stopped you grinning, 2 heartbeats, and there he was; cedar and night chill scent reached you Wait, what do I smell blood, your smile falls.

“They got here before me” Azriel chuckles “Did you perform like a witch ritual on my shadows? They do not obey me when it comes to you” He teased

You go near him, scanning him for anything, Azriel holds you, “It's not my blood”

You gape at him “I got a few locations, I was checking the IronCrest borders when I got into a little situation” He says moving inside, you follow him

“Situation?” you cock your eyebrow

“Yes, situation” He drawls, walking towards his bedchambers, you blindly following “And that situation was dealt with” He enters his room, and you freeze, realising where you were standing

“Since when do you need permission to come in?” Az repeats your words in a taunting manner, you narrow your eyes and step inside his bedroom. Somehow, being in his room made you, well, feel inappropriate things, given the time and situation.

You clear your throat, glamming your scent “Here, you left without taking it” you take out truth-teller and hand it

Azriel glances at his blade “Keep it” He says, you gasp and widen your eyes, Azriel chuckles “I mean, keep it until this is over” he wraps his hand over yours, which was holding the blade. You could just stare

“What is it?” he asks, holding your chin up with his other hand “You always have this look on your face when you're thinking something, but you're really forcing yourself to keep quiet”- “Tell me, dove please”

You bite lower lip “I was wondering – “ you look at the hand that held yours “How tiny I am in comparison to you, like see” you lift your Az hands to show him “I mean I’m not tiny I’m on the taller side, and not at all fragile, but look” you gesture to the hands again, his hand engaoled yours,

Azriel’s face seemed like it was about to burst – and it did, he started laughing, loudly

You were in awe of that sound; all you could do was blink. Az releases you “Y/n” He sings your name “Your mind is the only one that would compare yourself to an Illyrian warrior, and that too me of all males” He exclaims

Sitting on the edge of the bed, still chuckling “You can get so cute sometimes, my love”

The world halted, the air in your lungs trapped inside W-what? Did he just call me love? No? What? No

Unsheathing his weapons, “So? Are you gonna sleep here?” He teased, you get out of your stupor, pink creeps your face

He chuckles again and gives you one of the rarest smiles “You should get some rest, dove”

Yes, dove, I think I misheard him, dove not love, dove.

He comes closer and tucks a few strands of my hair back “We have a long day tomorrow”

I look in those eyes of warm honey, smile, and just nod.

--

Everyone was sitting in the living room of the Town House. You flew in here an hour ago with Cassian and Azriel, just finished with the discussion for females who survived the attacks

“Well, that sounds doable” Rhys says when you asked him if any willing females would like to come to the library and training

“I think it is a good idea, the training will help them” Cassian says

“We’ll need to change a few things, and ask Clotho, but yes” Azriel chips in

You rub your hands on your face and sigh “I just hope they agree”

You notice a movement, you see Az waving, you turn and see Elain standing there, you give her a small smile, and a wave, she walks towards where everyone was seated

“Hello everyone” Elain said sweetly “Sorry if I am interrupting” She was dressed to either go outside or just return. Frankly, you didn’t notice that much

“No, don’t worry, you are not, we were wrapping up anyway” Feyre says “Are you going out somewhere?”

“Yes, to the plant shop in the rainbow, actually”-  “I need to also get few seeds and tools”

You were about to speak up, but “I’ll come with you” Azriel bet you to it, and stood up

The too familiar pang in your chest hits you again, and suddenly you wanted to leave from there, Cassian notices it and puts his hand over your shoulder

“Oh, thank you, Az” Elain says “We should get going”

You make yourself grin, “We’ll see you soon brother, we also should get going” Cassian says, looking at you

Rhys claps his hands “It's been a while us 4 on a mission, it’ll be fun”

You chuckle, “Yes, brother, it shall be” You give a dark smirk

--

You land in Windhaven with Cassian, regular updates, well, at least that’s what Devlon thought. What he didn’t know was that Rhys and Azriel were already here, winnowed directly in front of the cabin

“Not this again” Devlon growled and stopped in front of you and Cassian

You grin, “Well hello to you too again” – “It is always so nice to see you, Devlon” sarcasm practically dripping in your voice

Cassian stands tall “Devlon” He nods

“Why is there another visit, when this one came a week ago?” Devlon demanded, jerking his head towards you

Cassian just moved closer to him “You should ask that question to yourself”-“Or have you forgotten she bet you top soldiers with ease?” he pauses “Disrespect my sister again, and I’ll not hold her back” Cassian's voice lethal

“Well, we’ll be going” you pause and glare at Devlon “For now”

--

Entering a shop, Cassian staying beside you “We are going in tonight” You don’t bother with pleasantries

Lucy looks at you, her eyes soft “I’ll tell the others” She glances at Cassian “Thank you” – “People like you make me want to believe that there is good in males” Cassian just smiles

“Please be safe” Lucy tells you both. You smile “We will be don’t worry” You reply to her

--

You and Cassian enter the cabin, you look around “Here” came Rhys' voice

You two walk towards the dining table, you see Rhys not in the head seat, but on the right side of it, the seat next to him empty. Azriel is in the kitchen cooking, and Cassian takes the seat opposite to Rhysand’s

Tears began to gather in your eyes at the memory of how you 4 used to sit when you were younger, it always Rhysand’s mother on the head seat, Rhys on the right, Cassian on Left. You took the seat next to Rhys, and Azriel sat next to Cassian.

Your eyes betray you, and a tear slips. You wipe it and clear your throat “It’s been so long”

Cassian, ever the supporting brother, “Thaat we had Azriel’s food, yes, mother save us”

“Last time I was sick for 2 days” Rhys complaints

“Hey! Don’t, he tries” You look at Azriel in the kitchen and walk towards him

Shock was all over your face, there was no mess, no spilled anything !

“I learnt, few dishes at least” Azriel says, not turning back. Then you really notice on what he is making, potatoes boiling, chicken in the oven, and you take out the cover from the bowl

You smile, this male was making your favourite dish “You didn’t have to”

Aziel comes closer “No I didn’t, but I wanted to” He smiles, flicking your nose with his finger “Although I cannot make the delicious gravy you do”

There was nothing beyond this, the world was you, him, and this kitchen, you smile and grab the chopping board

“Mushrooms” You look at him grabbing the knife, “That’s what I add, that’s what makes it so, delicious” You teased

He folds his arms, and just stares at you. You didn’t need to look at him to feel his stare, you finish the chopping, and take a fork to check the potatoes Seems soft enough, you grabbed a cloth when Azriel leans forward and holds your hand with the cloth, “I’m the one that’s gonna cook today dove” He takes the cloth from your hand, and you both look into each other

A throat clears “So dinner?” Rhys shifts in his seat uncomfortably

You widen your eyes Stupid stupid stupid fuck how can I forget that my brothers are here , you turn leaving the kitchen, and sit at your seat cheeks pink heart pounding

Cassian grins at you; “Dove?” Rhys whispers

“Oh shut up” You whisper back

“Cass help me with these plates” Azriel shouts. Cassian doesn’t reply, “Sure you don’t wanna help him” he pauses “Dove?” he teases

“Cassian” Azriel’s serious voice comes, Cassian shoots up and goes to the kitchen

“Let's begin” Azriel announces walking towards the table

--

I was seated in front of Y/N, dinner already eaten, “I must say, brother, it was a delicious meal” Rhys said

I glance at him, “Thanks”, “It really was good Az” Y/n tells me. I can’t help but blush a little and smile, “Thank you”

They 3 started talking about what now, but my concentration was on Y/N and her laugh. I move my foot under the table, trying to reach hers just like we used, my foot hits the other, and I tap slightly twice. She doesn’t move, doesn't respond. I nudge her foot again, still nothing. My brows furrow in confusion

“That’s my foot” Rhys' voice echoes in my mind. I sink under my seat, and Rhys laughs mentally

--

You sheath yourself to the teeth. The plan was simple: divide and conquer, you notice a very familiar shadow curling on your wrist

“I still think you should not go alone” Azriel speak ups

“You know I expected this mother henning from him” You tell, pointing at Rhys “But I’m also not alone” You show him your arm with the shadow “This one is mine now”

All four of you were ready “Remember, we get back here as soon as we are done” Cassian taps on Azriel's shoulder “No going on different locations”

“I will contact whenever I can” Rhys says

--

You were in the forest border of Ironcrest and WindHaven, you found 2 bases, and the males in those did not survive the rage inside you. Dead all of them, they didn’t have a purpose to be kept alive.

You keep to the shadows, nearing to the cave you were kept in. You see the cave and take a deep breath, the shadow on your wrist uncurls and heads inside.

You walk inside the dungeon, and you see it then, the tools, the clips, the lanterns, and the smell of old blood. The memories come back to you, and you breathe, the shadow curling up making sure you were alright  I escaped. I lived. You begin searching for anything

 You hear a sound followed by a mumbling, you hide behind the boulder of rock, trying to be away from the sight, but making sure you can see what is happening. A male walks in half drunk of his ass, you notice one red siphon. He mumbles under his breath and sits on the metal chair in front of the boulder, playing with a tool. You do not wait, you don’t have a reason to question him, silently you move grasp his hair, and slit this throat.

You move towards this body, checking his pockets for anything, any information , nothing you sigh

You were able to find two more bases, one empty underground, you made sure to recked everything before you left. And another in the mountain, this time higher and in a depth of cave, you burnt that one.

You didn’t risk flying, making sure most of the time you were on foot. With most of your area managed, you contemplated going near the mountain line of CrimsonStone; you took flight, knowing you’ll get in trouble for this

Nearing the border you heard the rustling of trees Probably the wind

An arrow shot or you, you moved, another one same direction, you dodge again, another one this time from the opposite end, and it grazed near your ribs. Instinct kicked in, you unsheathed your sword and took charge, knocking off arrows and heading to the closest direction it came from.

Behind a tree, you saw a male; you tackled him, and he dodged and attacked. You took hit and got knocked on the ground, your ribs aching with the wound and the hit. You sit up and unsheathe your dagger, flinging in on the male's leg, another aimed towards his arm. You go near, you don’t bother with inquiring, you unsheathe truth-teller and hit true.

You lift your shirt to see the wound, red, purple and green marks on your whole side, but the wound was healing. You sprint towards the other location where the arrows were coming from, cradling your ribs, you halt at the body before you, and hazel eyes stare in fury at you

--

“I can do it myself” You exclaimed, taking the medicine and bandage from Cassian. You were back in the cabin, done with locating bases that covered your area

Cassian looks towards you “Can you even reach the area?” – “Okay, I get why you don’t want my help, how about I get one of the females or would you like Azriel?” Cassian snaps at you

“Asshole” - “I can bandage myself up just fine Cass” you say angrily with that you walk

You were halfway upstairs when a door opened “Y/N! CASSIAN!” Rhys's voice boomed, you hurry downstairs

You see the bloody mess that’s in front “No” You scream, looking at Rhys’ and who he held  You walk towards Azriel’s limp body on the floor, Cassian and Rhys already there No, no, no, not him, not right now no.

“He is breathing, and a little conscious” Cassian says

You notice the dullness in his siphons and the wound near his heart that is not healing  “Faebane” you stand, move towards the couch, take out the antidote from your jacket

You place a trembling hand on Azriel’s neck, motioning it up “Please, drink it” You say voice rough, keeping the antidote near his mouth. Your brothers' further move Azriel’s upper body, he so slowly takes the medicine. But the relief was shot as the blood from the wound was not stopping  

“Rhys I need the first aid kit” You bark the order “Cassian, get me a cloth and water”

“But you are-“ Cass began “NOW” there no room for argument in your tone “The antidote will take time to kick” – “I need to close the wound” you say more to yourself

Cassian hands you the washcloth, you clean the wound. Azriel hisses, “I know I'm sorry it's gonna sting, I’m sorry” You try to comfort him

You take the first aid kit, and see the sewing needle, and thread, you take deep breaths to calm your nerves. This is just another wounded person I cannot lose focus

The trembling stops momentarily. You disinfect the wound and sew up the wound on Azriel's chest “It’ll be alright, you're gonna be fine”

You get up and move away, gone was the focus, your whole body starts to shiver, hands trembling, mind going into panic. You see the war again in your mind, how Azriel’s wings were shredded how you almost lost everyone. You close your eyes, trying to get yourself under control

“Breathe” came Rhys' voice, “Breathe, sister”, You're trying to take the uneven breath

You see Azriel lying on the floor, and your heart just, you can't place the emotion “Look at me” Rhys commands. It took every restraint in your body to look away from Azriel

Rhys holds you, “Breath, he is going to be fine, we all are here” – “You know guilt will eat him if he sees you in panic”

That was more true than you would wish it to be, but he is fine, everyone is fine

“Y/N” came a rough voice of Az

You rush beside him and hold his hand “I’m here” He get’s up

“Easy” Cassian said, “You took a nasty hit” helping Azriel get up from the floor and sit on the couch

“I’m better, the antidote it’s helping” Azriel replied

You sit on the armchair, Rhys walks behind you and clasps your shoulder “Well, you scared us there for a minute, brother”

Cassian looks at you, “Go and bandage up” he says seriously

“You're hurt?” Azriel and Rhys ask in unison

You sigh, getting up and grabbing the first aid kit, “Mother hens” that’s all you said, going up to the room

--

Cassian walked to the kitchen to grab the amber colour liquor and 3 glasses. Y/N passed out some time ago. He wanted to ask a few questions to Azriel, but he was on the edge of passing out himself . He walked near the living room, Rhys seated on the armchair, and Azriel taking up almost the entire couch with his legs stretched up. He put the glasses and the liquor-filled 2 glasses, and raised his eyebrow to Azriel, and all he did was nod.

Cassian handed his brothers the drink, took one himself, and nudged Azriel's legs to sit on the couch “So, do we want to know?” He asked, looking towards Azriel

The shadowsinger just chuckled, “All you need to know is that those who attacked me don’t live anymore”

“Hmm, and?” Rhys asked in curiosity, taking a sip of the liquor, Azriel looked at his brothers, confused  

Cassian takes a drink and looks towards Azriel “You're different with Y/N now, why?” He declares

Azriel’s brows furrowed “No I'm not” he chugs half a glass in one go

Rhys barks a laugh, “Brother, anybody who sees you two together will think otherwise” He says while chuckling

“I don’t know what you idiots mean” Azriel mumbles, finishing his glass

He reaches for the bottle Rhys' hands stops his “We know what we mean, brother, do you know what you feel?” Cassian gives an audible smirk

Azriel moves his empty hand and lets out a loud sigh, then looks at his brothers.

--

You wake up by morning light hitting your face, you get up from the bed with a growl; your side isn’t in excruciating pain like it was last night, you see the empty bed beside yours, and stand to start your day.

You head downstairs, and then freeze by the stairs, you couldn’t believe what your eyes were seeing, Rhys was sprawled on the armchair his legs on the table, Cassian was half on the couch half on the floor, and Azriel was no better, but the only difference he was hugging a liquor bottle.

Confusion, Curiosity and laughter filled you I really need to tell Feyre to paint this.

You couldn’t help it anymore; you burst with silent laughter, you were breathless, and your stomach clenched. “Iliyrian babies indeed” You say, between chuckles. You go in the kitchen to start preparing breakfast, knowing they will wake up with the smell or sound

--

You take a sip of coffee  “So will I ever know?” you ask the company at the table

All 3 look at you, then look at each other, you raise up an eyebrow “No, no, wait, do I want to know?” thinking better of your question, cause brothers and best friend or not, these 3 were still males

“Actually, no, I don’t know” you say with half-curious half-disgusted face

Cassian and Rhys laugh, the latter giving you a slight push, you mouthed a little OW sound

“How is your wound?” Azriel asks, changing the subject

“All better” You hum to the shadowsinger,

“See what happens when you go alone” Azriel says, a hint of teasing in his tone, but you were not having it

You narrow your eyes at him, pointing your spoon towards him “I should not have gone alone? Me?” – “Cass” you point the spoon to him “Remind me when did I get shot in the chest, with faebane?” Your voice still carried a little the hurt from last night

“Mother save us, they started again” Rhys mumbled. You breathe loudly, stomp your foot in anger, and leave

--

“Is it all done, truly?” Sara asked you, shock on her face.

“Well as much as it could have been, but I think the majority of it is done” You reply, sitting in Lucy’s shop with Sara and Ruby

You pause “I need to tell something to you girls”

“The females who survived, we are helping them out with training and letting them either visit or stay in the libraries near House of Wind” – “The libraries are more like sanctuaries, they are multiple priestesses who have dealt with life” You give a small smile

You look at Ruby and Sara “I’m thinking of shifting the females' training there” you pause “to whoever that are willing to come” You look at Lucy “This offer is for you as well”

Something like admiration and excitement dawns upon Lucy’s face “Yes, I will”

--

You were curled up on your bed, the copy of the romance you were reading in hand. You got here an hour ago, Azriel and Cassian deciding to stay in Illyria for a while longer.

You were reading the most indecent chapters in the book, you bit your lip, an ache settling down your core, lost in the world of this book

“What are you reading?” You gasp at Azriel’s voice What? when did he come in, you jolt up from the bed, closing the book

You clear your throat “A-Az, what happened?” – “When did you get here” He just looks at you, smirking

“Well I did knock” he looks towards the book “Buut I guess you were” his smirk deepens even more “Occupied”

Your face was red “W-well” you drawled, knowing you didn’t glamour your scent

“I thought you were going to stay with Cassian tonight” You ask as calmly as possible Azriel chuckles darkly, he steps inside “Y/N” he hums “Is that what you do, when we are not around, read dirty books?”

There went your subject change, “N-no” You say hesitantly, you move from your bed towards the shadowsinger

He bites his lower lip “You lie so prettily, dove” He says, closing up the distance between the two of you

You try not to shiver from his words “How can I help you?” You tell him, looking in those hazel eyes

Azriel hugs you, and it felt different somehow, this hug felt like, like something more

Suddleny you remember the promise you made yourself, Later, after this mission, if I survive, I’ll tell him, later.

You feel his breath on your neck, and that- THAT send shivers down your spine

He releases you from the hug, but both of his hands are still at your back. You see resolve but also fear in the spymaster’s eyes. You licked your lips and bit your lower lip

Slowly, he lowers his head, as if unsure about his movement and kisses you, nearly missing your lips.

You don’t move for a heartbeat “Az” his swallow was audible

You move this time, crashing your lips to his in a searing kiss, you hear his low growl, and open up for him, he angles his head, deepening the kiss, and you moan at the taste of him.

You didn’t know how, but suddenly you were half sprawled on the bed, Azriel on top, your lips still moving, tasting him, devouring him. Hot need hits you, and by the hardness you felt, you know he wants this too

You start rolling your hips, needing him closer with no barrier between the two of you,

Azriel breaks the kiss, you whimper on the emptiness “Y/N” he pants out, slowly moving from above you

You get up, wondering if what you did was right “Sorry I – I thought” You began

“Don’t apologise, you thought right” Azriel says cutting you off “It’s taking every ounce of my control not to fuck you so hard that the only name you remember is mine” He says through gritted teeth

You see his hands white knuckled into fists by his side “I want to do this right” He says, voice heavy “Please, love, you need to help me in this”

It was so rare that Azriel asked for help. You knew what he meant by Doing it right,

You move closer to the edge of the bed “Az anything you do will be the right way for me” you pause “But I do understand what you mean, and” you let out a sigh of relief “Alright” – “Okay” you tell him, placing an easing kiss on the forehead “My love” you taunt him.

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

Note: Finally, I think I wrote like 3 different endings to this one. There was SMUT before, but idk my age group sooo I had to save that for another part. And guys thank you so much for showing your support, it means a lot to me

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